THE ROYAL MISTRESSES OF FRANCE, OR, The Secret History OF THE AMOURS Of all the FRENCH KINGS, From PHARAMONT the First Monarch, Anno 418. to this present Time.  
Made English from the French Original.  
London, Printed for Henry Rhodes at the Star, the corner of Bride-lane in Fleetstreet; and John Harris at the Harrow in the Poultry, 1695.   

To the READER.  
MAny are those Excellent Observations, and Instructive Admonitions, that might be drawn from the following Sheets; but lest the Men should take amiss my going about to descant upon their Follies, and the Women be offended with me for unfolding the Arcana's of their Empire; the Reader is left to make his own Reflections himself. I am none of those Enthusiasts who dream of Fifth Monarchies, but I cannot tell what to think of it, when I find the Women in so fair a way to erect One. Some perhaps there are, who may think these Stories Fabulous, but such People display their Ignorance. For certain it is, that in the Main, these short Stories agree exactly with what they call the Truth of History: and as for the Circumstances which are added, they may be justly thought rather to illustrate the Stories, and discover the Causes of those odd Events, which others only barely and obscurely relate. For example, 'tis assuredly true, that a Prince committed such and such miscarriages, that such and such Persons of no Worth or Merit were advanced to high Prefern●●ts, and that others greatly deserving of their Prince and Country, fell into disgrace, while the True Historian (as they call him) is at a loss for the Reason of these Whimsies of Fortune. But here the Riddle is unfolded. Let no Man therefore censure that for fabulous, which in the least he cannot tax, to savour either of Romance or Improbability.   


THE AMOURS OF THE Kings of FRANCE, etc.  

The Amours of Pharamont, First King of France.  
THEY who apply themselves to the reading or History, to the end they may reap Benefit by it, aught to understand the true Causes of the most remarkable Events: and this is that which cannot be known, without being perfectly acquainted with the Intrigues of the Courts, wherein they were acted. For many times, what is attributed to Policy, has no other foundation than an erroneons Indulgence of Princes to their Mistresses, or their Favourites: And at the same time that they were believed ●o have in their Thoughts nothing more than the welfare of their Dominions, 'twas only a burning Desire to revenge the quarrels wherein the Amours had engaged 'em. This is that which will be found in the sequel of this History, wherein I have endeavoured, as much as lay within my Power, to clear and give light to matters of ●act that seemed obscure, in regard the contemporary Historians, were either ignorant, or willing to conceal the weaknesses of those Princes, under whose Reigns they, lived. I have very little to say of our first Kings, not only because the Authors disagree among themselves, touching the most memorable Events, but also because the Princes themselves, being obliged to be continually on Horseback, for the preservation and establishment of their Dominions, never minded Love, but only as a trifling business to pass away time, and were ignorant of the Delicacies of that passion, which is the refinement of all Pleasure.  
All Historians agree, that we ought begin with. 
* Anne. 418.  Pharamont, when we go about to recount the extended series of Kings, that have ruled the flourishing Kingdom of France; which is justified by a Medal that represents the Ceremony of his Coronation. We shall say nothing of the Achievements of that Prince, which relate to the story of his Reign, because they nothing concern our subject. And for his Amours, we are ignorant of 'em, as also of the very name of his Wife; and tho' It be very probable that such a Prince as he, could not choose but be engaged in amorous Adventures, worthy to have been transferred to Posterity; yet in regard Historians make no mention of 'em, neither can we deliver any thing of certainty concerning 'em. No body doubts, but what is said by the Author of the Romance, which hears the Title of Pharamont, was very ingeniously invented: and thither it is that we refer all those who are Lovers of Fictions. 'Tis concluded on all hands, that Pharamont was He, who first introduced into France the Sallck Law, which excludes Women from the Succession to the Crown. At length, after he had established his Empire by several Conquests, and Reigned about 14 years, he died, and left his Son Clodion to succeed him.   

The Amours of Clodion.  
CLODION, the Son of Pharamont, was called by the French to succeed his Father. He was surnamed the Hairy, because he wore his Locks very long; which was at that time a mark of free Dominion. But we are no more informed of his amorous Intrigues, then of those of Pharamont. Historians only report, that the Queen, his Wife, walking one day upon the Sea sto●e, was surprised by a Monster, that fling himself of a sudden out of the Salt water, and that she had a Son by him, who was called Meroveu●, and was his Successor. 'Tis thought this Fable was invented by Meroveus, to conceal the lose Amours of his Mother, and to imprint Respect and Awe into the Minds of his Subjects, by attributing to himself a birth so extraordinary.   

The Amours of Childerick.  

* Anno 459, or 460.  CHILDERICK, at his first coming to the Crown by no means followed the example of his Father M coveus's Virtues. For, he debauched the Wives and Daughters of his Subjects, so notoriously and openly, that he drew the Hatred of the whole Kingdom upon him, and constrained 'em to depose him. Upon which, he retired into Turingia, where King Basin at that time reigned, Now, in regard he was of a very amorous Complexion, and for that his misfortune had not cooled the heat of his, lustful Desires, he soon became enamoured of the King of Turingia's Wife, who was a most lovely Princess. As for himself, he was handsome in his Person▪ and very pleasing in his Conversation; so that it was not long before he reaped the fruit of his Sighs. The Queen Basina corresponded with his. Affection in a most tender manner; insomuch that his banishment became a pleasure to him. But at length his Subjects having recalled him home to the re-possession of his Throne, his Love was forced to give way to his Ambition, and he was constrained to quit his Fair Queen. Who not being able to raze from her Heart the remembrance of Childerick, followed him into France, where he was re-sett●d in his Kingdom, neither regarding her Honour, nor her Husband. Childerick, admiring to see her, asked her what reason had induced her to leave her Husband Basin, to follow him? Thy Modesty answered she, Thy Valour, and thy noble Carriage, have in a manner constrained me to come and seek thee for my Husband. I am only in love with thy Virrtue; and if I knew where to fi●d a person of greater Vitue than t●y self. I would not spare fo● any paints to enjoy him. Childerick, charmed with her Language, and inclined as well by his own passion, forgot the Duties of Friendship, and the Protection which King Basia had so generously afforded him in his Misfortunes. The pleasures which he hoped for, in the possession of Queen Basina, would not permit him to hesitate one moment, nor to ponder: upon the injury, the greatest he could do the Prince his Benefactor. 'Tis said, that having desired Childerick not to lie with her the first Night of their Nuptials, she went three several times to desire him not to be afraid, but to observe the Apparitions that should present themselves before his Eyes; and that, by virtue of her occult Magic, she showed him the first time. Unicorns, Lions, and Leopards; The second time Bears and Wolves; and the third time Dogs and Cats: to signify the various manners and conditions of the Princes that should descend from that Marriage. But i● we observe the ardent Affection which that Queen had for Childerick, 'tis enough to convince us, that this same Story was no more than a Fable invented at random. For 'tis not probable that her vehement desires would permit her to employ her time so ill, as to lie alone, while her Lover was taken up with gazing and musing upon pretended Apparitions.   

The Amours of Clovis, the First Christian King.  

Anno 485.  CLOVIS who succeeded Childerick his Father, desirous to devolve and establish his Authority upon his Legitimate Offspring, (for he had had already by one of his Mistresses a natural Son, whose name was Thierry,) cast his Eyes upon Cletilda, the Daughter of another Childeri●, and Niece to Gondebaut, King of Burgundy, who was a very beautiful Princess, and by the Marriage of whom he might reap so much the greater Advantage, because it afforded him an opportunity to aggrandise his Dominions on Burgundy side. For Gondebaut, after he had defeated his Brother, and cut the Throat of their Wives, and male Issue, let the Daughter live, and retained Clotilda at Court, where she was so strictly looked after, that they watched even her very smiles, and all the meanest her Actions, not, permitting any Man to come near her. But Clovis' Love and Ambition found out a way to deceive her Guards. Aurelian, a Confident of Clovis, his Master, took his time to go into Burgundy, when Gondebaut was in Italy with Thierry, and found a way to speak to the Princess, by disguising himself in the habit of a ●eggar: for in that disguise he waited for her at the Church-door and begged an Alms of her; which when she stretched forth her hand to give him, he squeezed and kissed it after so passionate a manner, that she presently conjectured there m●st be some secret Mystery in the Beggar's carriage. Having therefore found out a way to discourse him, she listened to his Propositions, and received the Nuptial Ring that Clovis sent her, with this condition, that he should turn Christian. The Prince being thus assured of the Affection of his Mistress, sent a magnificent Embassy to Gondebaut, on purpose to congratulate his good success and demand his Niece in Wedlock; who ●●ous'd himself, under pretence of his Religion. But Aurelian, who was Clovis' Ambassador, promised to remove that obstacle out of the way▪ so that Gendebaut having no other exception to make, and not knowing which way decently to avoid it was forced to comply with his demand.   

Deuterie, Theodebert, the King of Austratia's Mistress.  
Clovis' Children having divided the Kingdom of F●●●ce bet weul●om, Austrasia sell to Theoderie est ●●●el Prince; this Dominions were of a large 〈…〉 b● o●p● che●do not only Lorraine, but the ●o●i Countries and part of Germany, which was the ancient ●●tismony of: our Kings and ●eath was far as Bavaria Theod. had but one only Son, whose name was Theadeb●rt, a Prince both stood and ambitious, and medicated nothing but great designed. His Father b●t bought himself of Marrying him betimes, and to match him unto such an alliance; as might be able to assist him in the preservation of the Dominions which he should hear him alter his Death. To that purpose he ●●st his Eyes upon Wisgard, the Daughter of Woc●in, King of the Lombard's Wa●●o● as a Parent Prince of his possessed a good part of Italy, and who was able to assist him to wage W●● with the other ●●nus of Clovit, if any of 'em, not contented with his share should attempt to fall upon Austria. Theoderic having taken his Resolution, sent Ambassadors to Wachon, to demand his Daughter, and having obtained his desire, he affianced her to his Son; but the Marriage was not consummated, whither it were that Theodebert had any reluctancy to the Match, or that Theoderic growing jealous of his Son's Ambition, would not entrust him with an oppurtunity to make himself 〈…〉 by that Alliance. All the People of Austras●●● were charmed with Theod●bert's Virtues, and they spoke so highly in his praise that the King was somewhat disturbed at it, and resolved to remove him from the Court. To which purpose, an opportunity offered itself, which he was unwilling to 〈◊〉 escape him. The Serviant, who possessed Spain, finding themselves over poured by the 〈◊〉 who made it their business to 〈…〉 of the Kingdom, solicited the King of ●●●trasia to fall upon Narb●n●ois● Gaul, to the end, the Enemy might be compelled to ●epass the 〈◊〉, in order to defend that Province, which at that time belonged 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Theodori● discovered to his Son the Preposals that had ●een made to him, and asked him whither he would command the Army, which 〈…〉 to send into 〈◊〉 the Young Be●●●e was 〈…〉, that his Other offered 〈…〉 opportunity to exercise his Valour▪ and declared that 〈…〉 ready too set forward as 〈…〉 few Days after 〈…〉 with a powerful Army, and 〈…〉 Burgundy and the 〈…〉 to his entering into 〈…〉 in all the Towns that he did 〈…〉 Army, and after 〈…〉 strong 〈…〉 Nimes and Montpelier, to come and 〈…〉 his Camp upon the Banks of the ●i●er Or● near ●o 〈◊〉.  
Deuterie, Wise to the Governor of that City, laythen at his Castle of Cup●●●ic, which some call Cabrieret, but others more justly Capost●●. in regard that Village stands more near to Beziers, whereas Cabrieres adjoins to Nimes. She would fain have go away to her. Husband with her Daughter about ten Years of Age, but She had not time, for they were both taken by the aven● Couriers of Theodebert's Army, and presented to the Prince. He was charmed with their Beauty and after he had made a thousand excuses for the ill usage they had met with, he surrendered up to them his own Tent, and besought 'em to make use of it. In the Evening, he went and paid a visit to Douterie, and told her, she was at her own Liberty, and that she should have a Convey to guard her to Nimes when she pleased. But Deu●erie, who was not insensible of the goodly presence and Virtues of Theodebert, was not over desir●●● to part with him so soon; and therefore she made him answer, that she would not wrong his Civility, since it was not just be sho●●● deprive himself of a Pledge that might he worth him the Conquest of Ri●iers This Language was accompanied with so passionate a look, that Theodebert might easily perceive that an Incitement more persuasive than Generosity, made him refuse a happiness that was to be esteemed and preferred above all other cares of War, and therefore prepared to attack retires. Which Deuterie having notice of, gave him to understand, that she could not without a more than ordinary Grief behold him, shed the Blood of a People, among whom she was Born; and that during the Siege, she should be in continual fear for the Person of her Husband, who upon all occasions, would virtue himself as far as the meanest Soldier; which Reasons seemed so plausible, that Theodebert submitted. Tho' Deutetie all the while was swayed by a far different mo●●●, as being 〈◊〉 afraid of her Husband's Death then of the effects of his anger. Had be discovered h●●●eve, he might have been precipitated to some 〈◊〉 Violence, which made Deute●ie desire, that Theodebert would remove to some farther distance, that might deprive him of the knowledge of their intrigue, and she understood to 〈◊〉 to made the best of the indulgence of her Pathronate Lover, that she obliged him not only to remo●● from viziers, but to quit Laug●●do●, and take up his Quarters in Province. They stopped at Arles, where their chiefest Divertisement were ●alls ●●●ing, and Tournaments Lo●e having lulled the Valour of the young Prince ●●eep. However Witigez, King the G●b● not being a little alaturned at the Conquest which he had made, sort an Ambassador to him with an offer of all Provence, provided he would join his Arm with the Goths against Belas●rint; whom the Emperor Justinian had sent to drive ●em out of Spain, To which Theodebert made answer that his Father being alive, he could not determine any thing positively, in reply to that Proposal, but that he would dispatch a Messenger to him, to know his pleasure. Soon after, the Courier, instead of bringing back to Theodebert the answer which he expected, brought him news, that the King his Father was Dead, and that there was just Reason to fear, that his Uncles would make themselves Masters of his Dominions, if he did not speedily return to oppose their Designs. There, upon, Theodebert, immediately set forward from Arles, taking along with him not only Deuterie, then big with Child of Prince Theobald, who succeeded him, 〈◊〉 the Lady's Daughter, whom she had by the Governor of R●●er. Nevertheless, before his departure, he assured Witige●'s, Ambassador 〈…〉 soon as he had secured the Possession of the Kingdom, he would do what his Master should desire.  
But no soone● was 〈◊〉 Crowned King of Austrasia, but the people pressed him to Marty Wisg●●d, laying before him, that since he had a design to w●ge War with Justinian, it was him interest, to procure the friendship of the Lombard King, since it was to his power to set open or stop up the Poss●●, through which the Emperor's Army was 〈◊〉 march. These Reasons seemed to be of great weight, and would have prevailed upon The●●●bert, had he been less in Love. But he was so intoxicated with his Passion, for Deuterie, that his Love closed up his Eyes against all other Considerations, and to free himself from the importunities of those that pressed him to solemnize the Nuptials, so much desired with Wisgard, he publicly espoused Deuterie, with great care concealing the Truth of her Husband's being alive.  
And now his Passion no longer meeting any obstacle to combat, began to languish, and he yielded to the pressing importunities of Witig●●, who earnestly solicited him to pass the Alps, and make War upon the Romans. To that end, he set forward from Me●●, tho' Deuterie made use of all her Artifices to stop him, and marching into Italy with Ten Thousand Men, he joined Forces with Dor-ju, who commanded the Army of the Goths, and thus united they took Milan. Many other were the events of this War, which I pass over in silence, as being nothing to our purpose. But at length the Pestilence having ruined the greatest part of Theodeberts' Army, he repassed the Alps, and returned to M●●●.  
During his absence, Deuterie's Daughter, Gosminda's Features were arrived to that perfection, and the colour of her Complexion▪ was become so fresh and lively, that he became dazzled with the sight of her, not could he conceal, his admiration from Deuteries piercing Eye●, who perceived that their glances met and that her Daughter vaunted in private the Conquest she had won. She carefully observed the two Lovers, and being convinced, that Gossmi●'d corresponded with the passion of her Faithless Husband, she resolved to be reveng'd● but in such a manner, that she might not be accused of having contributed to the Dear of the Young Princess.  
The Court was gone to spend some few Days at Verdune, and the ●●●nd Walk was usually upon the Banks of the Me●●●, which is very deep in that part Kings, knew not then the use of Coaches, nor Magnificent Calashes, but only little Chariots, slightly covered over, wherein no more than one Person could sit, and drawn by Oxen. The jealous Deuterie therefore procured one of these Chariots to be prepared for Gosswind, and ordered it so, that a pair of Wild Oxen, such as had never felt the Burden of the Yoke, and kept on purpose without Water for several Days were put to draw it; so that the Young Princess had no sooner taken her seat in the Chariot, but the furious Beasts carried her a full Gallop toward the River, and eager to quench their thirst, fling themselves into the bottomless and rapid Stream with the Chariot at their Heels, where they were presently drowned, and the Princess swallowed up in the merciless Gulf.  
Theodebert was ignorant for some time, that the Death of Gosswind had happened so unfortunately, by the Connivance of her Mother; but when he came to understand it, he looked upon the foulness of the crime with so much detestation, that he could no longer endure the Person who had committed it. Thereupon his chief Ministers, seeing him so well inclined, took their advantage of it, and laid before him so feelingly the wrong which he had done his Honour in preferring a Lascivious Woman before Wisgard, whose Patience and other Virtues were admired by all the World, that he submitted to their Councils. In short, he thrust Deuterie into a Nunnery, and espoused Wisgard, who enjoyed her new Dignity but a very little while, for that she died within six Weeks after. Theodebert was extremely afflicted for the loss of her, yet not being able to reconcile himself to Deuterie, but leaving her in her retirement without so much as thinking any more of her, he spent all his time in Hunting, which was the occasion of his Death, for he was mortally wounded by a wild Bull that had broke from the Toils, wherein he had been entangled, as if he had designed to revenge the Death of Gosswind, whose Ruin he had been the cause of, by his incestuous Love.   

Clotaires Incestuous Amour.  

Anno 560,  CLOTAIRE reunited the Kingdom of France, which had been divided, after the Death of Clo●is. He had Married Isgend, of whose Family or place of Nativity, the Historians speak not a word, However, she had a Sister that far exceeded her in Beauty, for whom she besought the King to provide a Husband, and to that purpose, sent for her to the Court; but Clotaire found her so amirable, that he could not endure to part with her. He took so great a delight in her Conversation, that at length he perceived in himself an affection for her much more tender than it became him to have for the Sister of his Wife. For some time therefore he contended with his Incestuous, passion, and strove to vanquish it: But finding at length, that the more he withstood it, the more is increased he resolved to speak to her. Heregoud trembled at the King's first imparting his mind to her, and for some time, avoided coming into his presence, but afterwards she grew less scrupulous, and accustomed herself to listen to his Allurements, and in matters of Love, when a Virgin gins once to hearken, she is not far from drooping into the share; so that when she once forceased to be deterred with the horror of the Crime, that accompanied the King's Love, she soon surrendered her Fortress, and became the Mother of Chilperick, who Reigned after his Father in Normandy, and Paris. But when Clotaire had satiated his Lust, that same disgust, that usually follows Enjoyment, opened his eyes, and made him sensible of the wrong he had done Ingoud, by violating the conjugal Vow, that he had made her, in devoting himself to her Sister. Thereupon he submitted to the Remonstrances and Reprimands of Pope John III. who constrained Heregoud to betake herself to a Nunnery. Some time after, the King having buried the Queen his Wife, espoused Chinsiu or Chimsen for the Historians are not agreed about her Name.   

The Amours of Cherebert, King of Paris.  
AFTER the Death of Clotaire, the Kingdom of France was divided, and Paris fell to Chereberts' share, who was the eldest. He had married Ingeberge, 〈◊〉 Princess extraordinary Virtue, and who Loved him tenderly; she saw to her grief, how the King spent all his time in Hunting, and never came near her till late in the Night, of which she made most grievous complaints to Meroflede and Marco●efe, her Maids of Honour, in which the most consided. They were Sisters, and tho' they were of no higher extraction than the Daughters of a C●mber of Wool, yet the Queen disdained not their attendance about her Person, because they were endowed with particular Talents. Marcovefe had spent her Youthful Years in a Convent, and had also entered into Vows, but in regard she pretended a constraint upon her, she had ●●●●●●ded herself under the Queen's protection. She 〈◊〉 learned all sorts of Needlework in the Cloister, and she had a lively Wit, polished with much Learning. She was serious, yet she had so many charms in her conversation, that it was a difficult matter to be tired with her Company. On the other side, Meroflede was of a lively frolic disposition, danced with a goodly grace, sung most charmingly, and played upon several Instruments. Now these two Young Lady's proposed to the Queen, as the neatest course she could take, to divertise the King with courtly ●easts and Banquets, thereby to retain him longer in his Palace. They also studied a sort of Pastoral, wherein Meroflede proved so successful, that the ●ing gave her a thousand praises; he took so much delight in her conversation, and found the Air of it, so acquaint and delicate, that he could by no means forsake her company: Insomuch, that he very seldom went a Hunting, unless it were upon a set match. Meroflede, who was Ambitiois, forgot the Duty which she owed her Mistress and plied all her Artifices with so much diligence, to keep possession of the King's Heart, that a length, be obtained the utmost of his desires. But being a wanton, as she was, she could not be content with one single, tho' so noble a Conquest: She would be continually ensnaring with her purloining glances, all that were so daring as to seek their Thraldom in her looks, Marconefe, who was no less Beautiful, nor no less witty than her Sister, tho' more reserved Stomached a preferment, that seemed so injurious to her. However for some time she stifled her Vexation in her Breast, not breaking her mind to any person whatever: But when she saw the Meroflede let herself lose to others, besides the King, she discovered her Infidelity to him, after so discreet and so ingenious a manner, as if her intention had been only for her sister's sake to reform the Errors of her ill conduct. On the otherside, Cherebert lodged in Marconefe's Breast, all his vexations and sorrows for Merofledes wanton, and no less wand'ring humour, and found so much Judgement in her arguments and her councils, that he thought he might be far more happy with her, then with her Sister; and therefore he attempted to gain her affection, wherein the speed of his success was answerable to the eagerness of his pursuit. Marconefe spared for nothing, for indeed, her emulation was so great to deprive her sister of Cherebert's Heart, that she prevented his desires, to the end, she might compass her ends. Meroflede on the other side, was soon sensible of this alteration, and did all she could to regain his affections. Cherebert gave ear to her reproaches, bore 'em patiently, and endeavoured to justify himself; and finding charms in both, unwilling to lose either, he made it his business to persuade one Sister that he was entirely devoted to her; and the other, that she was the only Mistress of his affection.  
All this while he was so enthralled to his passion for these two Ladies, that he neglected the Government of his Dominions, and altogether slighted Ingoberge. And she, unfortunate Queen, acknowledged soon the fault, she had committed, in drawing off the King from the pleasure of Hunting, to make him sensible of amorous delights, and found herself more unhappy than she was when the King forsook her company, only to wage War against the wild Beasts of the Forest. So that after she had in vain attempted to reclaim him by her caresses and her complaisance, she had recourse to St. , at that time Bishop of Paris, who had gained a high reputation for his piety, and begged of him to lay before the King the wrong he did her, in making her such ill returns of her kindness. But the remonstrances of that Prelate, were so far from moving him, that they rather served to render the Person of Ingoberge more hateful to him. For from that time forward, he looked upon her only as a jealous Woman, that sought to interrupt his pleasures, and whose revenge was to be dreaded, so that he redoubled his scorn of her, and obliged her to retire into a Convent. After the Queen's retirement, the jealousy of ambition intermixing with that of Love, the two Sisters were emulous each to possess, alone, the King's inclinations, and dispose of all his Favours; and their embitterment augmented to that degree, that it enraged 'em to a quarrel, which made a great noise and divided all the Court. The King in vain endeavoured to reconcile and persuade 'em to live peaceably together, at least to keep an outward correspondence of civility, if they could not love each other as sisters. But at length disheartened by their transportments, and despairing of doing any good, he sell again to his old sport of Hunting, and left 'em at leisure, to quarrel among themselves.  
One day, being separated from his Train, and very Thirsty, 
Anno 524.  he alighted close by a Fountain, for want of a glass he took up the Water with the hollow of his hand, at what time a young Shepherdess perceiving him, drew near him and presented him an earthen Cup. The King took it, and observing in her Face, all the agreements of proportion and colour that Nature could afford, without the help of Art, he asked her name, to which she answered, that her name was Dandelind, and that she was a Farmer's Daughter, who had a House hard by adjoining. Upon that, Cherbert declared who he was, and told her withal, that he would carry her to Court, she excused her  with an ingenuity that charmed him, alleging that Obedience and Duty which she owed her Father; and the Grief it would be to her to live absented from him. Go then, and fetch him hither, replied the King, and I will carry, ye along with me both together. Immediately away ran the Shepherdess, and soon after returned with the Peasant, whom she called her Father. Presently the good old Man, who understood by his Daughter, that it was the King who sent for him, sell at his Feet, and begged to know his pleasure. 'Tis my pleasure, replied the King, to make your Fortune, and your Daughter Happy: come to morrow morning to me, when I rise. The Countryman failed not to attend upon him, and he made him Keeper of his Palace. Nor did the King believe he should meet with any reluctancy in the Shepherdess; but she showed him ●o much Prudence and Virtue in her Conduct, that he was afraid of offering any violence, and rather thought her worthy of a Crown. And the death of Ingoberge, that happened soon after, afforded him an opportunity to fulfil his desire. So that he espoused Dandelind, and married his two Mistresses to two great Lords of his Court. Cherbert, however, could not continue faithful to his new Queen: for he involved himself in so many Courtly intrigues, that the young Queen, who loved him entirely, died for grief, within two years after her Marriage. Cherebe●t after that, Married Theogedild, who was so far from being troubled at the infidelity of her inconstant Spouse, that she paid him in his own coin. And her extravagancies were so notorious, that the King, having in vain made use of entreaties, and Menaces to reclaim her, fell into a deadly Melancholy, that put an end to his days in the Castle of Blaye, whither he retired from the World.   

The Amours of Guntran, King of Orleans.  
GUNTRAN, the Brother of Cherebert, 
Anno 572  to whom the Kingdom of Orleans fell for his share, being very young when his Father died, disburdened himself of the weight of his Government, and laid it upon the Shoulders of Rotharic, who had been Prime Minister of State under the Reign of Clotair. This Rotharic had two Daughters, who might well be said to be the Ornaments of the Court. The eldest of the two was named Veneranda, not above fifteen years of age at most: Fame-Rofle the youngest, not above eleven years old, promised much, but she was not as yet come to perfection. Their Mother was dead, so that they lived both together in Rotharic ●s House, under the care of an ancient Governess. The King, who often went to visit his Prime Minister, was charmed with Veneranda's Beauty; so that he never saw her, but he gave her to understand, by a tender and passionate Look, that she had obtained the conquest of his Heart. However, Veneranda was a stranger to that language, or at least she feign'd to be ignorant of it; which troubled the enamoured Prince so much the more, because he could never have an opportunity to speak to her, in regard her Governess would never permit her out of her sight. Desirous therefore he was to corrupt the old Woman, nor did he think it impossible, but he knew not whom to intrust with the secret, for fear it should reach Rotharie's ear; who having the disposal of all Favours, had all the Courtiers ●t his command. But while he was in this perplexity, fortune gave him a fair opportunity to get rid of it. For Rotharie recommended to him for one of his Pages, a Nephew of the Governesses, who discovered so great an affection for his Service, that the King thought he might impart his Mind to him, without danger. Thereupon he adventured to speak to him, and found him well inclined to second his designs. Accordingly, the Page gave his Aunt an account of the King's desires, and the great advantages she might justly expect as the Rewards of her faithful Services. Presently the old Woman suffered herself to be overcome, and being well acquainted with Veneranda's Humour, which was naturally ambitious, she told her, that 'twould be her fault alone, if she did not come to be Queen, provided, she would but comply with Gontran's Affection: but in regard it became her first, to be assured of Gontran's Heart, before Rotharie were acquainted with the business, 'twas requisite she should admit the King to visit her in private. Veneranda firmly believed she could never go astray, while she followed the Counsels of a Woman, to whose care and conduct her Father had entrusted her, and who had never preached to her any other Lessons, but those of Virtue: So that by her means, she saw the King more than once; she harkened to his Courtship, and entered into those strict engagements with him, that she became the Mother of Prince Gondebaut.  
In the mean time, Fame-●o●le's Beauty, 
Anno, 574  which augmented as she grew in years, arrived to so extraordinary a perfection, that Gontran fell in love with her, at the same time that he began to be tired with Veneranda's Favours. But Fame-Rafle, who was not ignorant how her Sister had engaged herself, by her example had learned how unsafe it was to rely upon Gontran's protestations; and therefore taking better measures, she kept her ground, and disputed the Conquest inch by inch. She opposed her Reservedness against the Transports of the Prince, and neatly, and ingenuously gave him to understand, that there was nothing to be got, but by fair and lawful means; so that the Prince, whose Passion resistance augmented, gave his consent at length, and married her. Upon that, St. German, who was acquainted with his former engagements, earnestly remonstrated to him, the heinousness of such a scandalous Wedlock, and told him withal, that the Church would never approve his incestuous familiarity; therefore be exhorted him to break it, and divorce himself from Fame-Rafle; and not being able to gain any thing by fair means, he had recourse to anathemas, and banished those two Lovers from the communion of the Faithful.  
Veneranda, though sensibly nettled at Gentran's Infidelity, had a long time patiently undergone her misfortune; yet not daring to exert her Revenge upon her unconstant Lover, because he was her Sovereign; nor upon her Rivalless, whom she could not ruin, without violating the Law of Nature. Nevertheless, she altered her opinion, when she saw her Excommunicated: for then no longer looking upon her as a Sister, but as an Abominable Person, whose life lay at the mercy of any one, that would take it away, she gave her a dose of Poison and sent her out of the World. However, she was never the more happy for so doing; for she could never regain the King's Affection, the heat of whose Passion was quite extinguished. Nor was she less perplexed to see him so prodigal of his amorous Sedulities to Theodegild, who after the death of the King her Husband, was fled for Sanctuary to Gentran's Court. That Princess made him proposals of Marriage, to which he gave ear immediately, more out Ambition then Love; in hopes, by that means, to join the Kingdom of Paris to that of Orleans. Nevertheless, reflecting upon the Troubles which the Marriage of Fame-Rafle had brought upon his Shoulders, he was unwilling to engage himself in a second Incestuous Wedlock, for fear of emboldening his Subjects to revolt, and furnishing his Brothers with a pretence to invade his Dominions. He therefore contented himself, with making the best of his Sister in-law's confidence in trusting him to lay violent hands upon her Treasure; which done, he banished her into Provence, and thrust her into a Nunnery. Upon Theodegild's retirement, he espoused Marcatrude the Daughter of Duke Magnacaire: and this new Queen had a Maid of Honour, whose name was Austrigild, a Lady of surpassing Beauty; with whom Gontran fell in love, and having gained her Affections, had two Children by her, who died both before him.   

Fredegond, Mistress to Chilperic, King of Neustria and Paris.  
CHILPERIC, the Brother of Cherebert and Gontran, to whoss lot fell the Kingdom of Paris and Neustria, had for his first Wife, one Audovaire, whose Original is not known, only 'tis said that she was the Daughter of one of his Subjects, and that by her he had three Sons, Theodibert, Meroveus, and Clovis, together with a Daughter, whose name was Basina, who took upon her the habit of a Nun, in the Convent of St. Crosse's in Poiteer, of which St. Radegond, was then the Abbess. But while Queen Audonaire lived, she had a Maid of Honour of mean extraction, that resided with her, who was born in the Village of Auancourt in Picardy, but whose Beauty, Wit, and other endowments rendered her worthy of high esteem, and her name was Fr●degond. She had ingenuity enough to gain at the same time, the affection both of her Master and Mistress, and withal, she knew so well which way to conceal her feigned commerce Chilperic, that no body at the Court perceived it: but the King's passion for her, was near, a whit the less violent, for being secret: and Fredegoud on the other side, who had a piercing Wit, conjectured shrewdly, that it would be no impossible thing for to see herself seated in the Throne, if she could preserve that ascendant, which she had over the Queen; who being a good honest, downright simple Woman, and consequently never mistrusting Fredegond's tricks and artifices, easily fell into the snares, which she laid for her.  
About that time it was, that Chilperic left Paris to make War upon his Brother Sigebert King of Austrasia, leaving Audovaire big with Child, nor was it not long after his departure, that she was brought to Bed of a Daughter, to which by Fredegond's advice, she stood for one of the Godmothers herself, who persuaded her, that would it be a means to render her more acceptable to her Husband. Chilperick being returned, she inflamed his Love by affected Refusals, and seeing him one day at her feet, protesting that he loved no body but herself, and that nothing in the world could equal the delicacy of his passion, she answered him with a cold indifferency, that if his protestations were sincere, he would not every day as he did, share his caresses between her and a Princess, whom the laws forbade to look upon as a Wife, since she was become so near a kin to him, by being Godmother to the Young Basina. Chilperick was at first surprised at this discourse, but at length suffering himself to be prepossess d by the artifices of Fredegond, he was made believe that he committed Incest, in performing the duty of a Husband to Audovaire; and therefore to avoid all occasions of committing so foul a crime, he shut up his Wife in a Nunnery.  
Fredegond, having thus removed the main obstable, believed that nothing else could prevent her being Queen: only one politic reason crossed her designs. For Sigebert had Married Brunebant the Daughter of Athanagild, King of Spain. Now Childerick fearing lest that alliance should render him too Potent, sent to demand for himself Galsuind, the sister of that Princess, and to oblige Athanagild the more easily to give his confent, he offered to affiance Basina to the Prince, his Son. But that was more than he could perform, in regard the King could not procure the consent of the States of his Kingdom, that his Daughter should Marry with the Prince of Spain, because he was an Arrian. Which denial, tho' it was enough to have incensed Athanagild, nevertheless it infused into him no occasion of resentment against Chilperic, as being well acquainted with his sincerity, and for that he knew 'twas none of Chilperic's fault, that he could not be as good as his word; so that he consented to his demand of Galsuiud, and gave her to him without any scruple. But in that Marriage, Chilperic met not with those sweets of Wedlock which he expected Galsuiud was proud and haughty, as all the Spanish women are, and not of a humour to brook that her Husband should, share-with another Heart, and that affection which she believed to be only due to herself: she soon perceived the Love which her unfaithful Husband had for Fredegond, and displayed her resentment with a vengeance. Chilperic, accustomed only to the patience of Audonaire, could not submit himself to Galsuinds outrageous transports, and Fredegond left nothing omitted to exasperate the King against her. For in regard she beheld her certain ruin before her Eyes, unless she ruin'd the Queen, she never boggled at the taking a resolution to prevent her, and she understood so well how to make the best of the shallow feeblenesses of which the King had given her such frequent marks, that she persuaded him to make away Galsuind. Thereupon, Chilperic, after he had fully resolved upon it, made a show of more than usual compliance with the Queen's humour, and never visited Fredegond, but withal the precautions imaginable, that he might take from Galsuind, all occasion of mistrust, and when he found her quite cured of all her jealous suspicions, one night that he was in Bed with her, he strangled her with her own Hair.  
Sigebert being informed of the Death of his Sister in Law, thought it his duty to revenge it, and laid the design without ever considering that the Murderer was his Brother. He engaged also Gontran to join with him. On the other side, Chilperic raised an Army to defend himself; but before he took the Field, he Married Fredegund. However, he did not prove successful in that War, for that his Army being defeated, and his eldest Son Theodebert having lost his Life in the Battle, he himself made a hard shift to escape to Tournay, where Sigebert immediately besieged him. But Fredegund, who made a slight matter of commiting the greatest crimes▪ suborned a crew of Ruffians, who assassinated Sigebert in his Tent, and by that means delivered the King her Husband. For which piece of service, Chilperic thought himself so highly beholding to her, that he could not imagine any better way to gratify her, then by settling the Crown upon Fredegond's Children, to the prejudice of those whom he had by Audovaire. But Meroveus to whom the Kingdom belonged, as being his eldest Son, understanding what was a brewing so contrary to hi● interest, took Arms against his Father, and retired to Rou●u, whither Brunebaut, Sigebert's Widow had been banished by her Brothers in Law. There he beheld that Princess, and thought her so amiable, tho' he were then above forty Years of Age, that he resolved to Marry her, To that purpose, he made the Proposal to her, and with little trouble obtained her consent, because she looked upon that Marriage as the means to obtain her liberty. So soon as Chilperic received the news of this Marriage, he marched directly to Roveu, with all the Forces that he could muster together; nor did the City make any great resistance, so that by the taking of it, Chilperic became master of the new Married couple. Presently he declared the Marriage void, as being solemnised without his consent; and after he had shut up Brunebaut in the old Palace of Roue●; he marched to Soissons, taking his Son along with him, where he was no sooner arrived, but he was besieged by the Champenois, who took part with Childebert, the Son of Sigebert. Fredegond▪ that she might deliver herself from the captivity of a Siege, got out of the Town with Clovis; the Youngest of Audouair's Children, nor did she return till after the War was ended, by the defeat of the Champenois. At he return, the invasion of those People was the subject of all the Town discourse, and Fredegond cunningly infused it into Chilperic's read, that they had never entered into his Dominions but at the solicitation of Merov●●●, who by their assistance, thought to have seized upon the Throne. And tho' there were a Thousand reasons to have justified the conduct of that Prince, Chilperic believed him guilty, because Fredegond accused him, and therefore after he had caused his Head to be shaved, shut him up in a Cloister. But the cruel Queen was not satisfied with that punishment, which was not deemed severe enough, for an imaginary crime: and rightly judging, that she could not secure the Crown to her Children so long as Audouair's Offspring remained alive, she thought it behoved her to send them out of the World. Therefore, to bring this to pass, 'twas requisite to engage Meroveus in some new exploit by which he might incur his Fathers farther indignation. For which purpose, she sent Gontran Bosor, who was wholly devoted to her interests, to discourse him in the Monastery. Presently the Young Prince know him, because he had seen him at the head of Sigebert's Armies, but he was ignorant of the secret engagements between him and his Mother in Law; so that he easily fell into the snare which the traitor had laid for him, who proposed to him, his leaving the Convent to head a party that he had ready to embody under his Banners, and to that purpose, gave him an opportunity to make his escape. But no sooner was he arrived at the place appointed, but he was assassinated by the very person into whose arms he had thrown himself, for protection. Which Chilperic looked upon as a great piece of service, as being misinformed, and not understanding the depth of the affair.  
There remained now no more than Clovis, 
Anno 577.  of all the Children of Audonaire, and Fredegond was not without hopes of being rid of him too. But Heaven, that would not permit her to enjoy the fruit of so many crimes, in less than six Months swept away all the three Children she had by Chilperic, with the Pestilence. So that the King not having any more Children than Clovis, placed all his affections upon him, and consequently rendered him more odious to Fredegond. Nor did the Young Prince less mortally hate his Mother in Law; and tho' it highly conccerned him to conceal his sentiments, which otherwise might prove his bane, yet could he not forbear to entrust his secret thoughts with one of her Maids of Honour, with whom he had an intrigue. So that as Lovers can keep nothing hid from their Mistresses, he told her one day, that if he ever came to the Crown, he would not leave the Death of his Brothers unrevenged, and that he would extend the punishment of Fredegond to the utmost rigour of the Law. This severe language being reported to Fredegond, as she had great reason to, fear the dire effects of it, so she made it her business to prevent her Son in Law: And to that purpose, she accused Clovis to his Father, for having destroyed the three Children born of their Body's in lawful Wedlock, by virtue of certain charms, composed by one of her Maids of Honour and her Daughter, the very same person in whom the Prince had put so dangerous a confidence. Thereupon the King, falling into the snare, tho' so palpable and obvious to the sight, caused the two unfortunate Lady's to be arrested; who being put to the Rack, that they might free themfrom from torment, whatever was asked 'em, they confessed not only all, but more than was sufficient for the conviction of Clovis. So that the King, after he had seen the verbal report of the depositions, commanded Didier and Boson, the Captains of his Guards and Fredegond's creatures, to seize the person of his Son; which was presently done with more than ordinary inhumanity. Immediately by order of the King his Father, they carried the Prince to Chelles, and from thence to Noisy, beyond the Marne, where they stabbed him, and upon their return persuaded the King, that he laid violent hands upon himself, to avoid the deserved punishment of his crime. Some few Days after, the Maid of Honour and her Daughter were sentenced to be burnt alive, and accordingly Executed in the public Market place of Paris. Nor did the cruelties of Fredegond stop there. For being afraid lest any one should remain alive, that might revenge the Death of so many innocents', she sent in like manner to the other World, both Andovoire and Basina her Daughter; although that, being shut up in a Cloister, they were not in a condition to give her any occasion of jealousy. And now there was nothing wanting more, to satisfy the ambition of this remorstess Princess, but to have a successor to Chilperic born of her own body. Propitious Heaven also, not yet resolved to punish her transgressions, gave her one who was called Clotaire, in whose person France being once more reunited, was never since divided again.  
But neither was Cruelty Fredegond's only vice; for her unchastity was no less; and several Lovers had a share in her favour, among which were Didier and Boson already mentioned, and Beleran, Archbishop of Bourdeaux. But he who enjoyed her Heart the longest, was Landry de la Tour, Mayor of the Palace, who being both Younger and handsomer than the rest, constrained 'em to give him place. Nevertheless, although the intrigue was publicly known at Court, the King had no knowledge of it; Husband's being generally the persons who are latest informed of the disorders of their Families. However he discovered it at length, and that discovery cost him his Life.  
One Day that he had appointed for a match at Hunting, 
Anno ●●4●  he risen betimes in the Morning, leaving Fredegond a sleep in her Bed. But the weather not proving favourable, enforced him to return sooner than he was wont to do. Thus he road back full speed, attended only by one Page, presently alighted, and ascending by a back pair of Stairs, entered the Queen's chamber, who was then fitting at her Toilet with her hair about her Ears; and at the same time stealing softly behind her chair, tickled her gently upon the Shoulder with his wand. To whom the Queen, who was intent about dressing her Head and cur●ing her locks, and having her imagination filled with the Idea of her Favourite, without ever looking behind her, Ah Landry, said she, that's no trick of a right Courier to come behind a Lady. The King surprised at such an amorous and familiar piece of merriment, slipped out of the chamber again, without so much as one word, leaving Fredegond, who was become terrible of her mistake, in a most terrible astonishment, and the less he seemed to take notice of it, the more did the jealous Princess believe she had reason to be afraid, as making no question, but she should soon feel the effects of his revenge. By this time Chilperic was got a Horseback again, and gone to find out his retinue, who were not yet returned. And Fredegond made use of that interval of time, to resolve upon what she had to do, in such a nice and delicate conjuncture. Immediately she sent for Landry, and having told him what had befallen her, asked his advice what course to take. Landry advised her to retire forthwith to Guntran, and to put herself under his protection. The Queen beholding him with Eyes, which, tho' full of wistfull passion, yet darted forth some certain mixtures of despite, For a Knight, said she, like you, that have acquired some reputation by your courage, the resolution which you would infuse unto me, is nothing generous. As much a Woman as I am, let me take my own course. Chilperie must die, or we are both ruined; nor have we minute to lose upon this occasion. He is gone a hunting with a very small attendance: either than resolve to send him out of the World, or to drop your head upon a Scaffold. Landry stood a while like one in a trance at such a desperate proposal; but a length after he had pondered for some few minutes, with a fixed resolution, he shall die, Madam, said he, and you shall be obeyed. At the same time he fling out of the Chamber without speaking a word more, and being returned home, he sent for six undaunted Ruffians, that feared no colours, and whom he knew to be entirely devoted to his interests, to whom he unfolded his design, and having furnished 'em with the best Horses in his stable, and Money in their Pockets to make their escapes, which way they thought most convenient, he directed 'em to the place where the King was a Hunting. Away flew the apposted villains like Lightning, dogged the King all the remainder of the Day, and keeping close up with him by the favour of the Dusk, till he was got all alone into a solitary Village, there they gave him several mortal Wounds, and fling themselves into the Forest adjoining. Fredegond understanding that the business was done, put herself under the protection of the Bishop of Paris, and after that, sent to Guntran, to offer him the Regency of her Kingdom, and the education of her Son; who accepted both, adn undertook to defend 'em against Childebert and his Mother Brunebaut, who resolved to dispute the Crown with Young Clotaire. Fredegond finding herself free from all control, continued her licentious manner of living, with so much open scandal, that Pretextatus Archbishop of Roven, could not forbear severely to reprehend her. But the liberty which he took, offended the Queen to that degree, as not enduring to be reprimanded by her inferiors, she caused the Prelate to be assassinated at the Altar as he was saying Mass. Some time after, Guntran happening to die, Fredegond had still so great a reputation in the Kingdom, as to give the Regency of the Realm to Landry. Childebert, who pretended it to be his Right, was so enraged to be put by, that he entered the Dominions of Clotaire with Fire and Sword. The Queen, nothing astonished at the approach of his Army, resolved to march in person against her Enemies; and taking her Son along with her, she carried him from Rank to Rank, as a sight most proper to encourage the Soldiers: which done, she gave Battle with so much Valour, Conduct and Success, that she utterly defeated Childeber's Forces. After which Victory, she fell into Austratia, where she proved very victorious, till a malignant Fever put an end both to her Days and her ambitious Designs.   

Dagobert's Amonrs.  

Anno 626  DAGOBERT, the Son of Clotaire, had espoused in his Father's life time, Gomartude, an Austratian Princess, a kinswoman to Cunibert and Pepin. But there was so terrible an Antipathy between the young married Couple, that▪ it was never to be reconciled; whither it was through an insnrmountable disagreement of their Humours, or whither they inherited the hatred of their Families; there having been always an extraordinary aversion between the Pinces' of the Blood of Meroveus, from whence Dagobert descended,  and those of the Clodi●● Branch, from which the Queen derived her original. Dagobert, who was a great lover of Music, going one day to the Abbey of Romilly, to hea● Vespers, heard a voice that pleased him extremely. So that after Mass was done, he went into the Convent and desired to see the person that had sung with so melodious a voice. With that, the Abbess sent for her, and presenting her to the King, told him her name was Nantild. Nor was Dagobert less charmed with her Beauty, than he had been taken with her Voice, and leading her aside, told her, 'twas a great loss to the World, that so amiable a Person should be mewed up in a Cloister. To which Nantild repl'yd, That she had not assumed the vail of a sequestered Life, but in obedience to her Parents, who had constrained her to quit the World; and that if his Majesty would grant her his Protection, she would renounce her Vows. The King was overjoyed to find his Hopes so fairy flattered by the yielding disposition of the young Virgin, for whom he began already to feel a violent Passion. So that he was no sooner returned to Paris, but he sought which way to break the Knots that bond him to Gomatrude; and finding his Prelates complaisant enough to approve his Design, he caused his Marriage to be declared void: and being by that means at liberty, he sent for Nantild out of her Convent, and publicly espoused her.  
But Heaven was not pleased to prosper this Marriage; for the new Queen had no Offspring; which insensibly cooled the Affection of Dagobert toward her, and infused into him a desire to go and hold his Grand Assizes in all the Principal Cities of his Realm, according to the custom of the Kings of the First Race. Now while he lay at Blois, a young Lady came and presented a Petition to him, demanding Justice against the Count, who abusing his Authority, had possessed himself of certain Lands that belonged to her Father. She made her Addresses with such a comely Grace, that the King was charmed with her deportment, and promised that Justice should be done her. After she was gone, he sent for the Count, and being informed of the particulars of the whole Affair, he commanded him to make Raguetrude satisfaction; for that was the name of the fair Lady. The next day she came with her Father to return her humble Thanks to the King, who ordered 'em both to follow the Court, during his Progress. Dagobert also gave so many marks of his Affection to the Lady, that she could not remain unsensible; and at length, upon his Return, she was brought to Bed, at Orleans, of a Son, who was Christened Sigebert by Aribert King of Aquitain, who was Dagobert's Brother. The Ceremony of Baptism was solemnised by St. Amant, Bishop of Vtrecht. 'Tis reported, that the Infant, not then above Forty days old, when the Bishop pronouned these words, VISUS BAPTIZARI, answered VOLO, which extremely surprised the whole Assembly. Raguetrude, for several years, preserved the Heart and Inclinations, of Dagobert, remaining faithful to him. But happening again into the company of Nantild, he could not withstand her Caresses; and then he had a Son by her, that was named Clovis, and who succeeded him in the Kingdom. The Birth of that young Prince, re-kindled his first Flames; he begged Pardon of Nantild for his youthful going astray, and sacrificed Raguetrude to her Love. Who seeing herself despised, retired into a Convent.   

Alpayde, Mistress to King Pepin, Mayor of the Palace, under the Reign of Childebert II.  
TOward the end of the First Race, the succeeding Kings gave themselves up in such a manner, to their Pleasures, that they left the care of the Government so entirely to their Majors, that they never meddled with Public Business. Pepin exercised that Dignity under the Reign of Childebert II. He was one of those Great Genius's that Heaven seemed to have raised, for no other reason, then to Command others. All the French had so great a Reverence for him, that they looked upon his Will and Commands, as so many Oracles. 'Tis true, that his Virtues rendered him extremely worthy of that absolute Power to which he was advanced. He was an enemy to Sloth and Effeminacy, and during the first year of his Ministry, he seemed to be insensible of Love. He had always lived in great Reputation with Plectrude his Wife, though she were somewhat stricken in years, and of an imperious Humour. But there are certain Minutes, when the greatest Heroes suffer themselves to be surprised by that dangerous Passion, which equals 'em with other Men. A French Lord, whose Name was Dodon, had had a quarrel with one of his Neighbours, and had killed him. Upon which, the kindred of the Person slain, prosecuted him with great fervency: and according to all outward appearances, he dould not have avoided suffering the extremity of the Law, unless he obtained the King's Pardon; which his Sister Alpayde went to beg of Pepin. This Lady was one of the most amiable Persons in the Kingdom, and her Manners and Deportment were so engaging, that 'twas a difficult thing to refuse her whatever she demanded. Pepin beheld her with Admiration, and felt, upon the sight of her, something that he had never been sensible of before. He upbraided in private his own weakness; and was just going to send back. Alpayde, with the rudeness of one that scorned the Tyranny of Love. Nevertheless, he could not resolve to lose her for ever; and therefore, that he might have a pretence to see her again, he told he would examine the Informations, and that if the Fact were not very foul, but deserved Pardon, he would grant it her Brother. After that he counterfeited scruples, started obstacles, and at last, after he had been often waited on by Alpayde, he declared to her, that Dondon's Life depended upon her compliances with his Affection. The Lady stood surprised at his Discourse, which was altogether unexpected; she blushed, and looked pale. But at length, Pepin, accompanied his Courtship, and his Proposal, with such passionate Terms, and such large Promises, that Alpayde could no longer hold out. She yielded to his importunities, and surrendering to his Caresses, became the Mother of Charles Mar●●ll, who afterwards became so famous in History. Plectrude having discovered this Amorous Intrigue, made a most terrible Harburlie, and became so outrageously troublesome to her Husband, that her Extravagancies exasperated him to seek out ways to be rid of her. 'Twas a great vexation to a Person of his Rank and Reputation, to see that such Domestic Squabbles should render him the object of the Public Lampoonry. Nevertheless, he could not quit Alpayde: and he believed it no less an unbecoming weakness, to sacrifice her to his Wife because she made a noise. He therefore made use of the liberty which the French were wont to take at that time, which was, to repudiate their Wives, contrary to the Prohibitions of the Church and the Holy Canons. He put away Plectrude, and continued his Intrigue so publicly with Alpayde, that Lambert Bishop of Liege, after frequent and severe Admonitions, both in private and public, threatened to Excommunicate him. Alpayde was alarmed at this, and made her Complaints to her Brother Dodon, who being a Man Violent and Revengful, murdered the Holy Bishop. For which it was not long  he received condign punishment from Heaven; for he fell into the Lousy Sickness, which drove him to such a terrible despair, that he threw himself into the . Some time after Pepin died, and Plectrude made herself Mistress, both of the Government, and of the Person of Charles, whom she shut up in the Castle of Cologne, which was the usual place of her Residence. Charles, however, found a way to make his escape out of Prison, and having found a considerable Party in the Kingdom, got himself chosen Mayor of the Palace, and constrained Plectrude to renounce all her Pretensions.   

The Amours of Charlemaigne.  
THO' Charlemaigne had several Mistresses, 
Anno 771.  while his four Wives lived, we know the Names of none, but of Reginia and Adelond: nor do we know who was the Mother of Pepin, the eldest of his Natural Sons.  
This Emperor passing through Mayence, as he was going to make War against the Saxons, Count Ganelon, considerable for his Rank and Quality, in that part of Germany, besought him to receive Reginia his near Kinswoman, into the number of Luigard the Empresse's Maids of Honour, who had accompanied him in that Journey. Charles, consented to it willingly, and found the Virgin so amiable, that he many times took delight to divertize himself in her company, after he had tired himself with the toil of business. And at first the Emperor thought of making no more than a Pastime of his Discourses with the young Lady, but in a short time he soon perceived, that he had another sort of Kindness for Reginia, and begged her to correspond with his Passion. How was it possible to resist the importunities of a Prince, who was already the Admiration of all Europe? Reginia suffered herself to be overcome, and grew big with Child. Charles, afraid lest the Empress should discover the Intrigue, left her at Aix la Chapelle, where she died soon after. In the mean time Reginia was brought to Bed of Frogon, he was afterwards Bishop of Mets; and the next year of another Prince, whose Name was Hugh. Nor was Reginia ungrateful to her Kinsman Gamelon, to whom she was beholding for her Fortune; for she procured him Preferments and Employments, which obliged him to follow the Court. And in regard he was frequently in his Kinswoman's Chamber, during these marches and journeys he beheld among the rest of her Companions, a Lady, whose Name was Adelond, with whom he fell so deeply in love, that he resolved to Marry her. To which purpose he besought the Emperor's permission, so soon as he returned to Aix la Chapelle; who at first, readily gave his consent. But having better relished Adelond's Wit, he could not resolve to behold her in the possession of another; and having therefore found some pretence to recall his Word, he engaged himself altogether with Adelond, and forsook Reginia. Nor was this Second Mistress less fruitful than the First; for she made him the Father of Prince Thierry. However, the Emperor did not give himself up so absolutely to his amorous Pleasures, as to forget the Affairs of his Dominions. Understanding therefore, that Alphonsus, King of Leon had made a League against him with Fortune Garsil, King of Navarr, and with Marsillus, the Moorish King of Cordona, he crossed the Pyrenans in order to fight 'em. Ganelon thought this an opportunity to be revenged of the Emperor for bereaving him of his Mistress, and for having dishonoured his Kinswoman. Thereupon he went over secretly, and by giving 'em seasonable notice of the march of the Imperial Army, was the occasion of the loss of the Battle of Roncèvaux, wherein the choice of the French Nobility were slain. However, the Treason of the Count was discovered, and he received a punishment proportionable to the enormity of his Crime; the marks of which are to be seen by what befell the Tours of Monthlery, and de la Queve in Brie, that both belonged to him: for they were half demolished, and so have ever find remained, Reginia, who had no share in the Conspiracy, was no less exempted from any Consequences of his punishment; as being all along in high esteem with Charlemaigne, who put her Children into his Will.  
year 814 Charles gallantries had been so public, that they gave an occasion to the Princesses his Daughters, for whom he had not been very careful to provide Husbands, to seek out for Lovers themselves: and tho' the Emperor had notice of their irregular Conduct, he did but laugh at it, and let 'em live according to their own Fancies. But after his death, Lewis, his eldest Son, who was of a different character from his Father, and desirous to remedy these disorders, gave Commission to the Princes Walon, Warner, Lambert and Tagobar, diligently to inquire into 'em, and to punish those that should be found guilty. To this purpose, he sent 'em before to Aix la Chapelle, and followed 'em himself with a puissant Army, to support the execution of his Orders, and oppose the Pretensions of his Sisters, who had made a powerful Party against him, and with their Arms in their hands, demanded their share in the Succession and Inheritance, left by their Father, The Prisons of Aix la Chapelle were soon filled with those who had abused the easy Nature of the Princesses, or who had favoured and encouraged their unchaste Amours, and they were punished according as their Crimes deserved. Harwin, who had been summoned to answer to the Informations exhibited against him, made his appearance, but armed and well attended; and when Warner and Lambert ordered him to be examined upon the Interrogatories, he drew his Sword and slew the first, and dangerously wounded the other in the Thigh. However, he could not escape death; for he was massakered with all his followers, by the Prince's Officers and Guards. When Lewis also arrived at Aix la Chapelle, he sent for his Sisters, and after he had caused his Father's Will to be read in their Hearing, he unbraided 'em with their lose Conduct, and then sent 'em away to the Lands, of which Charlemain had given 'em the Rents and Profits, and which he assigned 'em for their Dowries, for term of life only.   

Valdrade, Mistress to Lothaire King of Lorraine.  
year 862 AFter the death of Lewis the Debonair, his Dominions were divided among his Children. Lothaire was Emperor and King of Italy; Lewis obtained Germany; Charles had Burgundy with Neustria; and Pepin enjoyed Aquitain. Lothaire turning Monk, left three Male Children, Lewis, Lothaire and Charles. Lewis shared Italy, together with the Empire; Lothaire the Kingdom of Lorraine; and Charles, Provence, with part of Burgundy. The young Lothaire had married in his Father's life time, Thietberge the Daughter of Hubert, Count of Burgundy Transjurana, at this day called Savoy. He was tenderly beloved by that Princess; and on the other side, he had all the Affection for her, that her Virtue deserved: but this Union lasted not long. For Hunting being the chief Divertisement of this Prince, one day being surprised by a violent Storm, while he was impriming a Stag near Metz, he retired to a Castle hard by, where he was received after a most obliging manner by Valdrade, the Daughter of the Lord, who was the owner of it. He was no less charmed with her Wit, than her Beauty, and thought himself Happy, that the bad weather had procured him such a fortunate meeting. Afterwards he paid Valdrade such frequent 〈◊〉, that the Queen perceiving him so much estranged from her, was resolved to know what sort of pastimes he followed. To that purpose she caused him to be dogged; and by that means discovered that she had a Rivaless. Nor could she dissemble her Jealousy. She plagued Lothaire with such tart and bitter reproaches, that to be revenged of her, he no longer observed any Decorum. He sent for Valdrade to his Palace, and allowed her as many Officers, as if she had already been his Wife. Valdrade also, abusing the Power which she had over the King's Heart, persuaded him to get rid of Thietberge, whose fretful taunting Humour disturbed the King's pleasures, and to dissolve the Marriage. Thereupon Lothaire proposed to Gontier, Archbishop of Cologne, his Grand Almoner, the design which he had to repudiate the Queen, and that he might engage him to a compliance, the King put him in hopes, that so soon as he should be at liberty, he would marry his Niece Hermengard. Flattered with these pleasing Hopes, Gontier summons a National Council, to meet at Metz, composed of all the Prelates of the Kingdom, and having gained Thietgand, Archbishop of Treves, who promised to serve him with all his Friends, he proposed the Dissolution of the Marriage, upon these grounds, that Thietberge had committed Incest with her own Brother, and that the King had been affianced to Valdrade before he married the Queen. He likewise produced false witnesses to support the Calumny, and so well managed his Affairs, that he obtained whatever the King desired. Thietberge was summoned: she was examined upon the Articles exhibited against her, and confronted by the Witnesses, who persisted in their Depositions. Upon which, the Assembly ordered, that she should be divorced from the King her Husband, and banished whither his Majesty should think convenient. Now, tho' this Sentence set Lothair at liberty to enjoy his Amours, nevertheless, he was not wholly satisfied. Valdrade would needs be crowned, and secure the succession of the Kingdom to the Children begot upon her Body: and with this design, she pressed the King so to order the matter, that the Clergy of Lorraine should more clearly explain themselves upon the invalidity of Thietberge's Marriage. Upon that, Lothaire calls a second Assembly, to meet at Aix la Chapelle, where he represented to the Prelates, that it being necessary for the public good, that he should have Children to inherit his Crown, he desired 'em to consider, whether his Marriage with Theitberge were contracted in due Form, to the end he might take her again, if she were his lawful Wife, or marry another, if his first Nuptials were of no force. Wherein he testified such a seeming Sincerity to the Assembly, that they gave him permission to marry another: and he immediately caused this Sentence to be published over all the Kingdom. This done, he declared to Gontier, that he had a full intention to accomplish his promise, and engaged the Archbishop to send him his Niece Hermengard; but after he had obtained whatever he desired, he returned her back to her Uncle, and espoused Valdrade publicly at Savern.  
Thietberge finding herself so unworthily and undeservedly used, 
Anno 863.  retired to her Brother, who implored the aid of Charles the Bald, King of France, and Lewis the German, who were both glad of the pretence to invade the Dominious of their Nephew Lothaire. But Nicholas VI then Pope, having intelligence of the War that was just ready to break into a flame, sent away his Legate Arsenius, with Orders to accommodate the difference and take cognizance of the affair. After Arsenius has fully informed himself of every thing, he returned to Rome, accompanied with the two Archbishops, Gontier, and Thietgaud, who pretended to obtain at Rome a confirmation of the sentence given against Thietberge, But the Pope understanding their prevarication, and treachery against the Queen, at a Council assembled on purpose, in St. John di Laterano, cancelled the sentence, deposed the two Prelates, and excommunicated 'em. Instead of submitting to this Judgement, they retired to the Emperor Lewis, Lothaires Brother, and wrote an insolent letter to his tunnels, wherein they declared himself to be excommunicated. Which done they joined with John Archbishop of Ravenna and P●otius Patriarch of Constantinople, and had like to have made a schism in the Church. But Heaven protected the justice of Nicolas' cause, and enforced all those Prelates to submit to his Authority.  
The Pope sent back Arsenius to Metz, that he might oblige Lothaire to take the Queen his Wife again. But the Legate unwilling to do any thing of his own head in so nice a matter, assembled all the Bishops of France, and having made known to those Prelates, the innocency of Thietberge, he desired 'em to instruct him what course it became him to take for reparation of the scandal which Lothaire had committed. Thereupon it was resolved in that assembly, that Arsenius should admonish the King in the name of the Holy See, to take his Lawful Wife again, and to break of all commerce with Valdrade, under pain of Excommunication. The Legate acquitted himself of his Commission with all the respect that was due to His Royal Majesty, but yet withal the resolution and constancy that became his character. Lothair, surprised at such a terrible menace, recalled Thietberge, and put away Valdrade, who being cited to Rome, ordered Angeltrude, her confident, and the Daughter of Count Mainfroy to solicit her pardon. For Angeltrude was obliged to take that journey, with the Legate, for her own interests, as being under Excommunication for having quitted Boson her Husband, to marry Auger his Vassal. When Angeltrude departed from Metz, she appeared to be the greatest penitent in the World, and fully resolved to do penance for her past disorders. But she was hardly arrived at the foot of the Alps, when being no longer able to live absented from the person she loved, but she slipped away secretly without saying any thing to the Legate, and hastened back to seek out her Lover. Nor was Lothaire more constant in his resolution: For so soon as h● saw that Arsenius' back was turned, he expelled the innocent Thietberge again, and renewed his illegal engagements with Vildrade; and carried his violence so high, that he made an attempt upon the Life of the disgusted Princess.  
Thietberge finding herself no longer safe in her Husband's Dominions retired to Charles the Bald, 
Anno 865.  who took her into his protection, and offered the King his Nephew, a Champion to maintain the rights of the wronged Princess according to the custom of those times. But the Pope would not suffer that no affair which had been already adjudged, should be referred to the hazard of a combat, and gave Charles to understand, that he could proceed no farther without entrenching upon his Authority. So that the King being unwilling to displease his Holiness, contented himself with only exhorting Lothaire to take his Wife again, but could not obtain any thing from him.  
The Princess therefore perceiving there was nothing more to be expected on that side, 
Anno 866.  returned to her Brother Hubert, who having no other way to maintain his Sister's interests, but by Force and Arms, raised an Army and fell into Lothaires Dominions with Fire and Sword. In revenge of which, Lothaire mustered a more numerous power together, led 'em himself, and crossing the Mountain jura, repaid Hubert in his own coin; but fortune did not favour him: For he lost three Armies, without being able to take so much as one Town. Lothaire discouraged by so many losses sen● Conrard, the Father of Bacul against the rebellious Prince; who was more fortunate than the King his master. For he perceiving the Passes ill guarded, and surprising Hubert, utterly defeated his Men, and slew him himself with his own hand. Thietberge understanding the Death of her Brother, retired to Rome, where she took upon her the habit of a Nun, and shut herself up in a Cloister, leaving the King her Husband to enjoy his Amours in peace and quiet. But Death soon after put an end to his Life and his disorders.   

Richild, Mistress to Charles the Bald, Emperor and King of France.  

Anno 869.  CHARLES the Bald had Married Ermentrude, Granddaughter to Adelart, who had been Treasurer of the Royal Exchequer, in the Reign of Lewis the Debonair, his Father, and who had greatly enriched himself at his Master's cost. This Prince lived very lovingly with his Queen, and showed himself as complaisant towards her, as if there had been no inequality in their conditions. But after Thietberge had quitted the World, Richild her Niece, betook herself to Queen Ermentrude, who endeavoured to comfort her in her misfortune: And she recommended her so often to the King her Husband, and spoke so highly of her, that he was desirous to know whither the praises, which his Queen bestowed on her, were true or no. He several times discoursed her, and as oft he found in her Wit, a Tour so free and yet so delicate, that he could not choose but Love her. 'Twas a long time however before he durst adventure to discover his passion; because he perceived her enriched with sentiments so virtuous, that he was afraid of incurring her displeasure. Nevertheless he could not long contain himself within the bounds of this reservedness. His dignity and the reputation he had acquired by a Thousand glorious exploits, put him in hopes that he should be heard with some kind of indulgence. He spoke, but met with resistance from Richild's Wit. For she made use of all her address to cure him of his Love; and told him with an extraordinary constancy, that having been a witness of the disorders which Lothairs passion for Valdrade had occasioned in his Family, she would not give the same occasion of grief and vexation to Queen Ermentrude, her benefactress, and draw down the curse of Heaven upon a Prince whom she esteemed. Richild persevered a long time in this resolution; but at last, (for what Woman is able to resist a lovely Prince and very amorous?) she suffered herself to be overcome by one had been Victor over many. Nevertheless, she so well observed her measures, and carried herself with that decorum in this intrigue, that the Queen had never any knowledge of it. Which in Charles created so high an esteem of her virtue, that after the Death of Ermentrude, he married her.   

Ansegard, Mistress to Lewis the Stammerer, Emperor and King of France.  

Anno 876.  DURING the long Wars that Charles the Bald waged with Lewis the Germane and his Children, Lewis the Stammerer lived with Richild his Mother in Law, who was Regent of the Kingdom in the absence of the Emperor her Husband. And in regard it was his interest to live in friendship with her, as being Mistress of all the King's favours, he had a kindness for all persons for whom that Princess had a value. He had observed, that Ansegard, of all her Maids of Honour, had the greatest share in her affection, which was the reason that he studied to please her with an extraordinary assiduity. But long converse and society had begot a more tender passion between 'em; insomuch that Lewis the Stammerer had two Children by her, Lewis and Carloman; and she was brought to bed of both, without any bodies perceiving that she was big with Child. After the Emperor returned from his Journey into Italy, whither he went to receive the Crown Imperial from the Pope's hands, he bethought himself of marrying his Son, and told him he had designed him for a Wife Ricarda the Daughter of Alfred King of England. You may easily conjecture the grief of those two lovers, when they heard the news. Lewis therefore had recourse to Richild, and besought her to make use of all her credit to persuade his Father to consent that he might marry Ansegard. But reason of State prevailed above the Emperor's complacency for his Wife, and Lewis was constrained to conform to his Fathers will.  
After the Death of Charles the Bald, Richild who was in great credit and had a powerful party at Court, endeavoured to set the Crown upon the Head of his Brother Boson, upon whom she had already persuaded the Emperor her Husband to settle the Counties of Provence, Milan, and Paris, under the title of the Kingdom of Arles. But the French would not permit that prejudice to be done to the right and lawful Heir, and therefore acknowledged Lewis for their King. So that Richild finding herself frustrated in her expectations, employed all her credit with Ansegard to make her peace with the King, whose passion▪ for that Lady was not at all abated; for he had still a high respect for her, tho' he lived very contentedly with Ricarda. Richild also promised Ansegard, to employ all her Friends in order to secure the succession of the Kingdom to her Children; and to assure her that she would never part from her interests, she proposed to her a match between her Son C●●leman, and Ingoberge, the Daughter of Boson. Ansegard relishing the proposal, the two Princesses resolved to make it to the Emperor at a banquet that Boson was to give him. And they carried it with so much neatness, and so much artifice, that they obtained of Lewis to consent to the Match. And for fear the Emperor should alter his mind, they caused the nuptials to be solemnised in a short time after. But the Emperor dying the same Year, there happened great disputes about the succession, in regard that Ricarda, who was left big with Child, was soon after brought to bed of Charles the Simple. The States assembled at Meaux to regulate this difference, and Boson left nothing omitted to procure the exclusion of the Posthumus, but he could not compass his design, and therefore contented himself with obtaining the regency for Lewis and Carleman during the minority of Charles. 'Tis true, that when they were in possession of the Government, they understood so well how to fix their Authority by Boson's counsel and intrigues, that they caused themselves to be acknowledged Kings, and divided the Kingdom between 'em at Amiens.   

The Amours of Blanch, the Wife of Lewis Clotaire III, K. of France.  

Anno 985.  LOTHAIRE, after he had successfully concluded the War of Lorraine, and taken Jeoffrey, Count of Verduu, Prisoner, associated his Son Lewis to the Crown, and married him to Blanch the Daughter of Rothbaud, Count of Arles. She was a Princess of an exalted Courage, a lively Wit, and a Humour inclined to Gallantry. On the other side, Lewis was a weak Prince, and whose Genius was extremely limited. Blanch therefore, well understanding his defects▪ despised him, and suffered herself to be taken with the Assiduities which Jeoffrey paid her. Nevertheless, she carefully concealed his Intrigue, and carried herself so cunningly, that she obtained his Liberty of King Lothaire. At the same time Ancelin Dalbron, Bishop of Laon, was fallen in love with the Princess, and tho' he were already above Fifty years of age, nevertheless, she forbore not to listen to his Courtship, because the City of Laon, of which he was absolute Master, was looked upon as one of the best Fortresses in the Kingdom, and she was willing to be assured of a Sanctuary. Jeoffrey became jealous of her complacencies for that Prelate, and therefore Blanch, to stifle the Count's Jealousy, engaged Lewis to go along with her, and spend some time in Provence; by which means she got rid of the importunate Bishop. In a short time after, she departed secretly, without giving Lewis any notice, and hastened to meet Jeoffrey, according to an Assignation by herself appointed. King Lothaire was desirous to apply some remedy to a disorder of this nature, but it cost him his life; being poisoned by Blanch. Ancelin on the other side, finding himself deluded by the subtle Princess, quitted her, to pursue another Amour with Emma, the Mother of Lewis, who, tho' advanced in years, yet still preserved a fair stock of Beauty This Princess pretended to Govern the Kingdom, though her Son was come to the Crown; But Lewis, by the counsel which Blanch gave him, caused her to be seized, together, with her beloved Bishop, by Charles of Lorraine; nor could they obtain their liberty, though earnestly sued for by the Empresses Adelaida and Theophanis, and all the Bishops of the Kingdom. For Lewis was so afraid of Blanch, that he durst not release 'em, because she would not have it so. However, he was but very ill repaid for his complacency: for Blanch poisoned hi●, as she had done his Father, and obliged him upon his Death▪ bed, to declare Hugh Capet his Successor, upon condition he would marry her, as unchaste as she was.   

Almafrede, Mistress to Robert King of France.  
CAPET had been too busily employed in Reforming the abuses of his kingdom, which had taken root in the Reigns of the Kings of the Second Race, and fecuring the possession of it, to mind Affairs of Love. But his Son Robert, who had not the same multiplicity of Business, delightfully spent all the time he had to spare, among such Ladies as he thought worthy of his Addresses. He had in his Father's life time made choice of Hugh de Beauvais for his Favourite. This young Lord one day, entrusted him with his Passion for Almafrede, the Daughter of the Count of Nogent. But he found her so agreeable, that instead of promising to assist his Favourite in his design, he prayed him to surrender his Mistress to himself. Hugh was somewhat difficult at first to resolve, but at length his Ambition prevailed above his love. Moreover, he himself discovered to Almafrede the Passion that Robert had for her, and served his Master so well, that he had no reason to complain of Almafrede's Reluctancy. She admitted him by Night into her Chamber, and not being able to defend herself against his importunities, was brought to Bed of a Son, who was named Amaury, from whom are descended the Counts of Montfort. In the mean time▪ in regard the Matches of Princes are usually grounded upon Policy, notwithstanding all the engagements and ties of Affection that had fastened Robert to Almafrede, he was constrained, in obedience to his Father's Commands, to espouse Constance the Daughter of William Count of Arles, and Sister of Foulke Nera, Count of Anjou. However, he concealed from that Princess, his first Engagements, and abstained from any familiarity with Almafrede, so long as his Father lived. But so soon as he came to the Crown, he surceased to put that constraint upon himself, and to repay his Favourite for the Sacrifice he had made him of his Mistri●s, he made him Grand Master of his Household; and wholly relied upon him for the Government of his Kingdom. Yet did not Hugoes Business so entirely take him up, as to hinder him from sharing sometimes in his. Master's Pleasures. They often went together to Nogent, to divertise themselves at Almafrede's Palace: whither it were, that the King had still the same tenderness for her, or that it was their Rendezvous, where they met other Ladies. However it were, the Queen being informed of these Assignations, turned all her Hatred against the Favourite, upon whom she looked as the Author of this Disorder. Thereupon she sent a Trusty Officer to her Brother, to give him an account of the injuries done her, and to desire him that they might not go unrevenged, Presently the Count of Anjou laid the Resentments of his Sister so deeply to Heart, that he promised the Messenger to fulfil her desires. With that, he gave his Commission to a dozen Gentlemen, whom he knew to be Men of resolution, and devoted to his interests. He gave 'em Money and Horses, and sent 'em to King Robert's Court▪ where they saw the Queen privately, and agreed with her upon the means of being serviceable to her jealousy.  
One day then, that the King had appointed a Hunting match with Hugo, to the end, that afterwards they might go and visit Almafrede, they followed the King at a distance, and when they saw him and his Favourite separate from their company, and take the Road to Nogem, they got before 'em, through by ways, and powdering full Gallop upon Hugo, gave him several mortal Stabs before the King's Face, though he made himself known to 'em, on purpose to stop their fury, out of that respect which was due to his Person: and when they had done, they threw themselves into a Forest adjoining, and soon became invisible. Several Months find away, before the King could discover the Authors of so dating an enterprise: but at 〈◊〉 he understood that the Murder was committed by the Queen's Order; and so far he was from showing himself either grieved or displeased at it, that he loved her the more ever after, and wholly fortook Almafrede, who out of despair, retired to a Convent, and veiled herself. As for Foulque● he underwent a severe Penance for having contributed to the Homicide, being at Jerusalem, whither he accompanied Godfrey of Benillon, and others of the Croisado. For he caused himself to be drawn naked upon a Hurdle, with a Rope about his Neck, and to be whipped till the Blood came, crying out with a loud voice, Have mercy Lord, upon the treacherous and perjured Foulques.   

Bertrade, Mistress to Philip.  

Anno 1086.  Foulques Rechin going to pay a visit to Amaney, Lord of Montfort, and condole with him upon the death of his Mother, fell in love with his Sister Bertrade. He left nothing omitted to procure her Affection, during the stay that he made at Montfort, and not being able to obtain any Favour from her, he resolved to marry her, though he were already married to Ermengard, the Daughter of Archambaut, Lord of Bourbon, and that he had a Son by her, who was afterwards called Jeoffrey Martell. To which effect, he caused his Marriage with Ermengard to be declared null, under pretence of being near akin, and took Bertrade to Wife, by whom he had a Son that bore his Father's Name, and who going to the Holy Land, was King of Jerusalem. In the mean time Foulques Rechin having had a Quarrel with his Brother Jeoffrey, about sharing the Succession of their Father Foulques Nera, the contest came to a Battle near Brochelac, where Jeoffrey was overthrown, and taken prisoner, but took his being detained in Prison so heinously, that for mere vexation he run mad. Pope Gregory VII. being informed how hardly Foulques had used his Brother, and of the unlawful Marriage which he had contracted with Bartrade, excommunicated him. Jeffery Martell, who by this time was arrived to years of maturity, taking advantage of the excommunication thundered out against his Father, took Arms to revenge this Mother's Quarrel, and set his Uncle at liberty. Bertrade seeing herself so dangerously threatened by the ambitious Youth, who was already become the head of a potent party, sought which way to rid him out of the World, and caused him to be poisoned. Pope Gregory being dead, Foulques scent Ambassadors to urban VI who succeeded him to obtain his absolution; offering to set his Brother at Liberty, and to quit Bertrade. Upon which, the Pope empowered Hugo Archbishop of Lion to take off the censure, provided the Count performed what he had promised.  
In the mean time Philip, coming to Tours, to give Foulques a visit, year 1093 and settle affairs between 'em, in reference to the County of Gatinois, which the Count had mortgaged to him during the Wat with his Brother, saw Bertrade▪ who appeared to him most charmingly beautiful notwithstanding those Clouds of sorrow that hung upon her countenance, because her Husband was just going to put her away. The King therefore having engaged her to entrust him with the cause of her grief, offered her his service and promised to marry her, having under pretence of consanguinity vacated his Marriage with Bertha, the Daughter of the Count of Frise, whom he had banished to Montrevil upon the Sea. Bertrade suffered herself to be surprised with these alluring hopes, and consented to be conveyed away by force. The King thus satisfied, after he and Bertrade had consulted upon the ways and means which way to effect their design, departed for Orleans, and left behind him at Tours a Gentleman, whose name was William Rechin, to put the project in execution. Bertrade and the Knight having conserted together how to manage the business, she herself went to hear Mass at St. Martin's, upon Easter-eve, and after she had sent away the persons that attended her upon several errands, slipped into a by Street where Rechin waited for her with two Horses. She made choice of that which went most easily, and being got a little way out of the City, they met with laid Horses fresh and fresh every six Leagues, and made such haste, that before Night they reached Orleans, where the King, who had notice of every thing, received 'em with those transports of joy that are hardly to be expressed. He carried Bertrade to his Palace, and by a thousand caresses endeavoured to alleviate the Fatigues of her journey. As for Foulques, he did not much trouble himself for the loss of his Wife, whom he looked upon as an obstacle of his reconciliation with the holy See; and finding himself well stricken in years, he wholly gave off his debauchery. Some time after Philip publicly espoused Bertrade, and caused her to be Crowned with extraordinary magnificence. He had two Sons by her, Philip, to whom he gave the Barony of Mang upon the L●ire, and whom he Married to the Daughter of Gontier▪ Lord of Montbery; Henry, who was designed for the Church, and a Daughter, named Cecilia, who was first married to tancred, Son of the Sister of Bremond Prince of Antiochia; and after his death, to Ponce, the Son of Beritand, Count of Tiral in Stiria, descended from the Counts of Thoulouse. However several Bishops who where present at the nuptials, to which they were invited according to the custom of the Kingdom, remonstrated to the King, that the Church could not approve a Marriage directly contrary to all the Canons, as well by reason of the proximity of Blood between him and Bertrade, as for that Bertha was still living as well as Count Foulques. But none of 'em took upon 'em to speak with more freedom then: Yves Bishop of Chartres; which exasperated the King to that degree, that he caused him to be apprehended. However, in a short time after he released him again, at the solicitation of the Clergy. Pope Vrban VI being informed of these disorders, sent away on purpose a Legate into France, who assembled a Council at Au●u●, where it was decreed, that Philip should be excommunicated. But the Pope suspended the effect of the Decree till the next Year; and then he thundered out his anathemas against the King in the Council of Clermont. The King terrified with these censures, parted from Bertrade for some time; but he recalled her shortly after, by the consent of her Husband Foulques himself; over whom she had so powerful an ascendant, that he sighed at her feet, like the most passionate of Lovers. The Pope's Legates perceiving that the King had renewed his crminal familiarity, assembled another Council at Portiers, where the Prince was excommunicated again. But Philip, over-constant in his affections, set so many Engines at work in Rome, that the Pope sent other Legates to rehear the merits of the cause. They, to that purpose, assembled a Council at Bougency, where the two Lovers made their appearance, and promised to separate, till they had obtained a dispensation from his Holiness. Which at length was granted 'em, after long solicitations, by Pope Paschat II. who was more indulgent than his predecessors. The nuptials also being solemnised anew by virtue of that dispensation, the King and Bertrade went to pay Foulques a visit, who regaled 'em at Angiers withal the divertisements that could be devised. Soon after Philip dying, Bertrade retired to Angiers to the Son of Foulques, who had also ended his days, and renouncing all manner of amorous courtship, applied herself to adorn the Castle of that City, and caused the Church of St. Maurice, which was gone very much to decay, to be repaired. In a word, she employed the remainder of her days in acts of Piety, to make an atonement for the sins of her Youth.   

Eleoner of Acquitaine, the Wife of Lewis the Young.  
KING Lewis the Young, year 1148 had married Eleonor, the Daughter of William V Duke of Aquitaine; a Princess of surpassing beauty, of a lively and sparkling Wit, but wanton in her humour and addicted to coquettry. The King, who as yet had not espied that defect in her, loved her so tenderly, that he could not find in his Heart to leave her in France, when he undertook his expedition to the Holy-land, but engaged her to be the companion of all his dangers. They embarked together at Aigues-Mortes, and after several hardships, arrived at length at Antiossia, where Hugo Raymund, the Queen's Uncle, and Brother to Duke William, had obtained the Principality. He gave the King a most magnificent reception; and left nothing omitted to oblige him to make a stop there. He laid before him, the Noradin the Sultan of Damascus, made frequent incursions to the very gates of the City; and that 'twas greatly to be feared, that that same place, of so great importance would fall into the hands of the Infidels, if he were not powerfully assisted by His Majesty. But it was not only interest of State and Religion that prevailed with Raymund, to wish that the Court of France might reside for some time at Antioch. He had been bred up with Eleonor, and he was her Uncle, yet was he not much Older than she: ●and long familiarity had bred and fostered in both, a passion more tender than became two persons, so nearly related; neither had Raymund undertaken his voyage to Palestine; but to cure himself of his amorous passion, when he saw his Niece espoused to the King of France. But the presence of the beloved object rekindled his first flames, and in regard he found the Queen as favourable to his desires, as she was at Bourdeaux, he could not find in his Heart to part with her, so suddenly. However all his, artifices proved fruitless; he could not detain the King but very few days at Antioch. Lewis therefore, impatient to be at Jerusalem, pursued his journey, notwithstanding all the reasons that could be alleged to him; neither was Eleonor so sorry as Raymund. For she was altogether for present objects, and forgot the Prince of Antiochia, so soon as she had lost sight of him. She had several others that would not permit her to shed tears for his absence; and as she never repulsed any one that sighed for Love of her, her Court was always well filled: but tho' in the Court of a Queen, yet because it was in a Camp among none but Soldiers, the discourse was generally Military; and the warlike achievements of every day, produced sufficient matter for every days entertainment. Nor, did they forget their Enemies the Turks, whom were signal either for their Birth or Valour, so that 'twas impossible to pass in silence the noble qualities of Saladin, the Sultan of Damascus' Nephew. 'Twas said of him, that he was a● person well shaped, nimble in all manners of exercises, Valiant, Generous, Liberal, Courtly; and in a word, that he was endued withal the French manners. There were also some who added, that he was descended from the Count of Ponthieu, whose Daughter being taken at Sea, was presented to the Sultan of Aleppo the Brother of Moradin, who receiving her into the number of his Wives, had this Prince by her. Now, though ' this story were a mere fable, yet it failed not to augment the curiosity which the Queen had for Saladin: she sought for opportunities; and for a beginning, to enter into a correspondence with him, she wrote to him in the behalf of Sandebrevil, Lord of Sauzay, who had been taken some days before by a party which that Mahometan Prince commanded. Saladin granted the Queen whatever she desired, and sent her back the Prisoner without Ransom, Eleonor had several conferences with Sandebrevil, on purpose to inform herself of several circumstances which she desired to know, concerning the person of Saladin: She also made use of him to procure an interview between Saladin and her. To that purpose she appointed a Hunting match, about two Leagues from Jerusalem, where Saladin met her with thirty Horsemen only. So soon as he saw the Queen appear, he left his Troop that had made a halt, and advancing an easy hand Gallop toward her, presently alighted to salute her: he made her a compliment in the Italian Tongue, which the Queen understood very well, and after such a manner, as nothing savoured of the barbarity of the Nation; nor was she less taken with his Wit, then with his deportment: She obliged him to mount his Course▪ and so they road softly together into a Wood of Palm-trees close adjoining, where they were a long time in discourse together. Eleonor returned him thanks in a most obliging manner, for what he had done for Sandebrevil at her request, and pulling off an embroidered Scarf that served her instead of a girdle, presented it to him, desiring him to keep it as a testimony of her esteem and acknowledgement; which Saladin afterwards wore upon all occasions of danger. But she was discovered by some Courtiers, who gave an account of the whole story to the King, and others assured him that the Queen had given Saladin several other meetings. Now tho' there were more of vanity on both sides in this same courtly correspondence, the King was extremely troubled at it, and would stay no longer at Jerusalem. So that after he had taken his leave of King Baldwin, he set Sail withal his Fleet; but was obliged to put into Sicily to refit his Ships, which had been but ill handled by Manuel the Emperor of Constantinople's Navy. 'Tis very probable, that the Queen had made her peace in that Island; for she grew big with Child, and lay in, upon her return into France, of a Daughter named Alice, who was married afterwards to Thibaut Count of Blois. But some time after she was brought to Bed, the King being informed of all Eleonor's gallantries, resolved to vacate his Marriage. To which purpose he assembled the Clergy of France at Boisgency, where Alegrin his Chancellor set forth the reasons that moved the King to desire a separation, and easily obtained what his Master desired, because the Queen made no opposition. However Lewis, that he might come off with Honour, surrendered back to her the Duchy of Aquitaine, and the Earldom of Peitou, which she brought him in Dowry, and only kept the two Daughters which He had by her.  
Eleonor, after this Divorce, retired to Poitiers, where she was visited by Henry Duke of Normandy, the King of England's Son. Who though he were a Prince, whose Person was no way inviting, and had the worst coloured Hair in the world, yet she failed not to admit of his sedulities, and to hearken to the proposals of Marriage which he made her, because he was Heir presumptive to the Crown of England. Henry was well informed of all the disorders of her past life; but his eager desire to join Guyenne and Peitou, to the rest of those Dominions, which he was to inherit, prevailed over all other Considerations. He espoused Eleonor; which so enraged Lewis, that he suffered no opportunity of Revenge to escape him. So that a War was kindled between the two Princes, so soon as Henry came to the Crown, which lasted till an end was put to it by the Marriage of Henry the King of England's eldest Son, with Margaret, the Daughter of Lewis, and Elisabeth of Castille, his second Wife. And though the affianced Princess were but five years of Age, she was put into the hands of the King of England, for a farther confirmation of the Alliance. When she came to be of age, proper for the consummation of the Nuptials, the King of England refused to deliver her to his Son, for fear he should become too potent, and go about to dethrone him, with the assistance of France. Thereupon Henry, impatient to enjoy his youthful Spouse, that was to secure him his Succession to the Crown of England (the Princess being designed to the Heir of the Kingdom) he stole her away, and fled into France to the King his Father-in law. From thence he wrote to his own Father, demanding England, or the Duchy of Normandy, as an Earnest of his Succession: and upon the King's refusal, resolved to obtain his Pretensions by force of Arms. Queen Eleonor also engaged Richard Duke of Aquitain, and Jeoffrey Duke of Bretagne, her Brothers, to take part with Henry: and Lewis obliged William, King of Scotland to invade England on that side, while he sent Robert Earl of Leicester with a powerful Army, to make a descent into the Island out of France. So that a Man would have thought that the King of England, assailed on every side, must have been overwhelmed by so many Enemies. But Heaven protected him. His Son Henry died in a short time after, and Peace was concluded between England and France: and the Marriage of Richard, who was become Heir to the Crown by the death of Henry, with Alice the Daughter of Lewis, was the Seal of that Union. But in regard the Princess was very young, she was put into the hands of the King of England, as her Sister had been, till she came to years of maturity; and Queen Eleonor was shut up in close imprisonment, to prevent her contriving new troubles at Court. In the mean time King Henry showed himself so extremely complaisant to the Princess Alice, that it was looked upon to be an effect of love; and the Princess answered him with a frankness, pardonable as her years: however, Richard grew jealous to that degree, that he could not find in his heart to marry her, when he came to the Crown. Queen Eleonor also, whom he set at liberty so soon as he saw himself seated upon the Throne, confirmed him in his aversion, and negotiated a Match between him and Beranguelle, the Daughter of Don Garcias, King of Navarre, whom she carried to Richard then in Palestine, where he espoused her. This angered Philip, surnamed the August, King of France, who at the same time had made a voyage to the Holy Land; but he would not show his resentment there, for the injury done his Sister, because he would not give the Infidels an opportunity to take advantage of the division of the Christians. But so soon as he returned into France, he entered the Territories of the King of England in revenge. At length Eleonor, after she had been the cause of many mischiefs in both Kingdoms, where she had worn the Crown, ended her days at Poitiers, in the Fourscore and fourth year of her age.   

Marry of Moravia, Mistress to Philip, surnamed the August.  

Anno 1192.  PHILIP the August, after the death of Isabel of Hainault, his first Wife, married Isembourg, or Eudelberge, the Daughter of Waldemar the Great, King of Denmark, but found so little pleasure in the enjoyment of her, that after the first Night he never would Bed her again. However, he endeavoured a long time to combat this aversion; but not being able to surmount it, he imparted the secret of his disgust to William, Bishop of Beauvais, who told him, that in regard there was a near affinity between him and the Queen, it would be no difficult thing for him to disannul the Marriage, if he would summon an Assembly of the Prelates of his Kingdom. The King relished this Proposal, and having sent for all the Bishops of France, and amongst the rest, for the Archbishop of Rheims, who presided in the Assembly, the sentence of Separation was pronounced. Some time before the King had seen the Portraiture of Mary Agnes, the Daughter of Bertol Duke of Moravis, which appeared so charming to him, that he had always the Idea of her in his sight. Therefore, when he saw himself at liberty, he sent to demand her in Marriage, and having obtained his desires, he espoused her with a more than ordinary Magnificence.  

Anno. 1198.  Isemburg would not be present at the Nuptial Ceremony, but secretly left the Court, with a design to retire into Denmark. But when she came to the Frontiers of France, she bethought herself of the fault she was about to commit, in abandoning the Justice of her Cause: she returned back again, and shutting herself up in a Convent, sent an account of her misfortune to King Conuie, her Brother. He, being astonished at Philip's inconstancy, sent to his Ambassador then residing in Rome, to make his complaints to Pope Celestin, and to demand Justice of him. Celestin immediately dispatched away two Cardinals, the one a Priest, and the other a Deacon, to make inquiry into what had passed, in the dissolution of the Marriage, and to make use of all the Authority of the Holy See, to oblige the King to take Isemburg again, in case he had no lawful cause of separation. So soon as the two Legates arrived at Paris, they called together an Assembly of the Clergy, wherein the Motives to the annulling the King's Marriage with the Princess of Denmark, were strictly examined. But, tho' the Prelates assembled saw well, that the sentence of Separation that had been pronounced, was slight enough, yet they durst not attempt to revoke it, for fear of the King's Indignation. However, Pope Celestin being dead, Innocent III. his successor, at the solicitation of the Danish Ambassador, sent into France the Cardinal Sta Sabina, with order to make use of all the most effectual means to oblige the King to a reconciliation with Isemburg. When the Legate arrived, he assembled a Council at Lion, and cited the King,, together with all those that had pronounced the sentence of Separation, to make their appearance, but Philip, instead of appearing, sent a Herald, to Protest the Nullity of whatever should be done to his prejudice, and to appeal as from an improper Judge to the Pope, or the next General Council. But for all that, the Legate went on, and by advice of the Prelates assembled, Excommunicated the King, and Interdicted the whole Kingdom. Philip enraged at these violent Proceed, caused the sentence of the Assembly to be declared void, by a Decree of his Parliament of Paris, upon the motion of the Advocate-General: and to punish the Bishops who had been so daring, as to deal so unworthily by him, he seized upon their Temporalties. In the mean time, well understanding, that Isemburg had been the occasion of all these troubles, he sent her to the Castle of Estampes, with a prohibition not to stir from thence, upon pain of being declared Guilty of High Treason.  
Marry of Moravia, who was a Woman of great virtue, and very nice in her sentiments, was afraid that all Europe would look upon her, as the cause of the Divorce, in regard the King had so often given her in public, such transcendent marks of his affection. She was desirous therefore to be grateful, and willingly would have resigned her own Life, to have appeased these troubles, provided that the King her Husband's honour, might not be wounded by the accommodation. She besought him therefore several times, that he would permit her to retire into a Convent. But his passion for her was too violent to consent to such a separation, and he was too haughty to give his Enemies an occasion to think, that he submitted out of any sentiments of fear. But as it impossible for Princes long to conceal the most secret emotions of their Souls, the favourers of Isemburg had found out, that the violent proceeding of the Legate had not a little contributed to exasperate Philip against any reconciliation, with that unfortunate Princess. Presently therefore they acquainted the Pope with the King's inclinations, who yielding to their reasons, sent into France two new Legates, Octavian Bishop of Ostia, and John Bishop of Velitri, with Orders to make use of gentler means. Those two Legates, after they had assembled another Council at Soissons, immediately took off the excommunication that had been thundered out against Philip. Mary likewise laid hold upon this opportunity, to beseech His Majesty to take Isembergh again, and she assailed him with arguments so pathetically moving and so judicious, that at length he consented. Thereupon he sent for Isemburgh to his Palace; but the more generous Mary had appeared to him, the more it grieved him to have separated from her. So that after he had remained about forty days with Isemburg he sent her to a Monastery. The two Legates having notice of this so sudden and unexpected change, summoned a new assembly to meet at Soissons. Marry therefore afraid of the fresh troubles into which the King was about to precipitate himself, would return to him no more, and pressed him so earnestly, that she might have leave to retire, that at last with his consent, she betook herself to the Abbey of Boissy. But it was not without an extreme violence upon herself, that she took this resolution. She loved Philip sincerely, and it was merely to procure him that repose, of which he was going to deprive himself for her sake, that she could prevail upon herself to lose him for ever. And the combat she had in her mind, before she could obtain this victory over herself, reduced her to such a low condition of Health, that at length she sunk under the weight of her affliction, and died within a Month after her retirement from Court. Just before her death, she wrote to Philip, beseeching him to take Isemburg again, and to live lovingly with her. The King, not able to refuse her this complacency, at a time when she gave him such transcending marks of her Love, took Horse, and road alone to the Convent, where Isemburg lay. He sent for her out of the Abbey, and taking her up behind him, carried her back to his Palace, where he lived with her, after that, in perfect Conjugal society: nor did she die, till many years after, in the Reign of St. Lewis. The Pope was also so glad of this reconciliation, that to comfort Philip for the loss of Mary, he legitimated the two Children he had by her.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France under the Reign of Philip the Fair.  
PHILIP the Fair had Three Sons who reigned successively after him; Lewis, whom he made King of Navarre in his life time, and who married Margaret the Daughter of Robert Duke of Burgundy; Philip Count of Poitou, who married Joan the Daughter of Otheliu, Count of Burgundy; and Charles de la march, who married Blanch, the Daughter of the same Count These three Princesses were endowed with all the Graces, both of Body and Mind; and being of a gay Humour, their Courts were always full. They drew to 'em all the young Persons of Noble Rank and Quality, and their usual divertisement was Hunting, whither they went sometimes with the Princes their Husbands, but generally alone with the Officers of their Household, and such Ladies as were wont to be the companions of their Pastimes: more especially Philip, and Walter de Launoy, of whom the one was Squire to the King of Navarre, the other to the Count de la March, never left 'em upon these occasions. They might well be looked upon for two of the most complete and handsomest Lords in the Court, and they were persons of that brisk and lively Wit, that 'twas impossible to be tired with their Conversation. The two Princesses Margaret and Blanch, so well liked their jolly Humours, that without stopping at Esteem, they proceeded even to Love. The two Lords, who had great experience in that Passion, and had met with very few hardhearted Ladies, easily perceived the progress they had made in the Hearts of those two Ladies: and the Conquest was so illustrious, that without reflecting upon the fatal consequences of Intrigues of that Nature, they thought of nothing so much, as to pursue and preserve it. They dextrously wrought upon the Princes to declare their Minds; and having drawn from their own Lips the important Secret, they engaged 'em to facilitate the means to make 'em happy. Nor was it a difficult thing to gain the Usher of the Chamber, and the Princess' Ladies of Honour, who introduced 'em into their Mistress' Chambers, at a time when all the world was withdrawn to Rest. Every thing favoured their desires. Their Mistresses were the first movers, and 'tis easy to guests, how easy it was to prosper in Rendevouzes of that nature. However, the Princess' afraid of being at last surprised by their Husbands, begged leave of 'em to spend the Summer season at Maubuison, near Pontoise, where they admitted none but persons that were privy to the Intrigue, and abandoned themselves wholly to the pleasure of Loving, and being Beloved. The two Lovers every night got over the walls of the Garden, and slipped into the Chambers of Delight, without being seen of any body. 'Tis true, the Princesses had not imparted any thing of their Love to their Maids of Honour, in regard, that being young, they mistrusted their discretion. Nevertheless, the secret, which it so much concerned 'em to conceal, was at length discovered by her that was able to make the most mischievous use of it. Mademoiselle de Morfontaine, Maid of Honour to the Queen of Navarr, had been a long time intreagued with Philip de Launoy, who had also promised her Marriage; but being assured of her Mistress, he began to neglect her. Morfontaine perceiving his coldness, and imagining he was become enamoured of some, of her companions, resolved to watch him more narrowly, to the end she might find out her Rivalless. There was belonging to the Apartment of the Maids of Honour, a pair of Back-stairs that led into the Garden. One Evening therefore she slipped down those Back stairs, and walked the Rounds, to see whether or no her perfidious AEneas did not go to visit some of her companions in the night time. Nor had she long stood Centinel, before she perceived somebody jump over the Wall. She accosted him softly, and though the Moon did not shine, she knew, or else she fancied she knew him to be Launoy, whom she followed, without any noise to the Queen of Navarr's Apartment. Upon the sight of this, she stood as motionless as a Statue, and was sstill more embarrassed than before, not being able to persuade herself, that he durst make his Addresses to a Person so far superior to him. She saw the Maid of Honour open the door to him; and when he was entered, she listened, to try whether she could discover what he was gone to do in that Apartment. 'Tis easy to guests at her surprise, when she understood by the Queen of Navarr's expressions, that 'twas she herself whom Launoy sought for, and that he was beloved. Presently her jealousy changed into fury, and infused into her nothing but desire of Revenge. But after the first transports of her Rage were over, when she sought, in cool blood, the ways to satisfy it, she found 'em encompassed with a thousand dangers. 'Twas as much as her life was worth, to accuse her Mistress, without convincing Proofs; and it was to be feared, that in taking measures to prove the Intrigue, she might give her Mistress an occasion to suspect her design, and expose her to the dire effects of her anger. She floated several days in this uncertainty, but finding herself at length with Child, she thought it her duty to sacrifice every thing to the revenge of her injured Honour. She had a Kinswoman, a Nun, at Maubuisson, whom she entrusted with the deplorable Estate to which she was reduced, and so well aggravated the honour of the crime, which the two Lovers committed, in profaning the place that enclosed the Spouses of Jesus Christ, that she engaged the Nun to assist her in surprising the impious Couple together. And they took their measures so truly, that the two Launoys were surprised in Bed with the two Princesses, and were stopped in the Convent till the King was informed of it. They were both sent to prison, and upon their impeachment in Parliament, their crime being sufficiently proved, they were both condemned to be Flayed alive, to have their guilty Members cut off, to be tied to the Tails of two wild Horses, and in that condition to be dragged through a new mowed Meadow. The two Princesses were shut up in Castle Gaillard, where the King of Navarr caused his Wife, in a short time after, to be strangled with a Sheet. The Countess of March obtained her liberty, after the Prince her Husband had dissolved the Marriage, under pretence that he was the Godson of Manned of Artois, the Mother of that Princess. The Usher of the Queen of Navarr's Chamber, who was privy to the Intrigue, was hanged. The Countess of Poitou was also apprehended, but in regard, there was nothing material proved against her, the Prince her Husband went himself to fetch her out of prison, and by 3 thousand Caresses endeavoured to make her amends for the Affront she had received. As for Morfontaine, after she had thus fully satisfied her Revenge, she was tormented with most cruel remorses of Conscience, that ne'er would suffer her to rest, either day or night. Every Minute she thought she saw before her Eyes her Lover in the same deplorable condition, wherein he lay, under the tortures of the Hangman; and after she had languished in misery for above a year, she ended her days, detesting, with a sincere repentance, the disorders of her past Life.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Charles VI.  
year 1339 CHARLES VI who fell mad during the journey that he made into Flanders, having recovered his health, gave order for a sumptuous Ball, which was danced at Queen Blanche's Palace in the Fauxbourg St. Marcell upon occasion of the Nuptials of one of that Princess' Maids of Honour. The King would make one of the number, and danced an entry of Savages with five Lords of the Court, who were tied together with Ropes of Silk. The King as he was dancing, accosted the Duchess of Berry, whom he caressed with somewhat a more than ordinary freedom, at what time his Brother entering the room, and being over curious to know who that person was, in Masquerade, so familiar with the Countess, drew near with his Flambeau, and set Fire to the Habit of one of the Savages. The flame immediately ran from one to the other, so that in an instant, they were all in a blaze. Charles of Poitiers, Count of Valentinois, and Hongrinant de Jansay, died upon the spot. The Count of Nantovillet ran to the Cupboard, and throwing himself into a Charger full of Water, quenched the Fire that surrounded him. The Count Jony, and Yves de Foix died after they had lain for two days together in a languishing condition: But the Duchess of Berry, knowing the King, threw the skirt of her Gown over him, and saved him by that means. Dureing the confusion which this accident had occasioned in the assembly, the Duke of Orleans found himself near a Lady who was ready to be stifled in the crowd: he took care of her, and put her into the hands of one of his Gentlemen, who threw Water in her Face, and after he had fetched her again from the swoon into which she was fallen, carried her home to his own house. Some few days after, the Duke calling the Lady to mind, asked his Gentleman what was become of her, and understood that she was the Wife of Raoulet d'Auteville, who had been Treasurer of France, upon the recommendation of Philip Duke of Burgundy. With that he remembered that he had been the occasion of displacing him from his employment, for several misdeameanors, and believed, that the little service he had done his Wife would not countervail to extinguish that aversion, which without question, she had for him. Nevertheless in these contrarieties it is, that Love takes delight to show his capricious humours, as the Duke soon after found by experience. For one day that he was at Mass in St. Paul's Church, he there observed the fame Lady, who as she passed by, saluted him with an obliging smile. The Duke was too much a Courtier to be ignorant what that meant; and he was too great a Lover of adventures, to fall of the opportunity of making the best of 'em. Thereupon he sent a Page to delight Madam d'Auteville to meet him in the Evening in the Garden of the Palais des Touruelles, where he should be glad to speak with her, and the Lady accepting the Assignation, failed not to meet him at the time appointed. And then it was, that in her melting Breast, the Duke soon met with sentiments far opposite to those of that same hatred, with which he thought her prepossessed against him, and engaged her without much trouble, to come to him to his Palace the next Morning. Nor did she fail of being punctual to her hour, and being introduced into the Prince's Chamber by a back pair of stairs, she gave him no cause to complain of her cruelty. This visit was attended by several others, by means of which, the Duke of Orleans understood, that she was very intimate with the Duchess of Burgundy, and that she had understood by her discourses, that 'twas none of her fault, if he were not beloved by her. The Duke opened his Ears to this Proposal: For besides, that the Princess had charms sufficient to inflame his amorous desires, she might prove advantageous to him in the rearing of his Fortune, by drawing from her Lips the secrets of the Duke her Husband, who was declared Regent of the Kingdom during the King's distemper, and with whom he thought he had a right to dispute the Government of the Realm. He therefore left Madam de Auteville to manage the intrigue, who carried it on with so much address, that in a short time she accomplished his desires.  
year 1406 This Intrigue lasted several Years, and was carried with that privacy, that no body had the least inkling of it; but at length it was discovered through the imprudence of the Duke himself. For he had hung up in his Cabinet the Portraitures of all his Mistresses, and he was wont to say, that all those whose pictures were there to be seen, had never been cruel to him. The Duke of Burgundy likewise, had often heard him say the same thing, tho' he never minded it at first. But one day coming into that fatal Cabinet, he there beheld his Wife's picture, and then calling to mind the Duke's unlucky raillery, it gave him no small disturbance. Thereupon he resolved to be satisfied in his suspicions, and at last discovered, that the Duke had frequent meetings with his Wife by the means of Madam d' Autevil1e, whom she had made her confident: but then the jealousy of Love joining Forces with the jealousy of hatred, he thought it behoved him to be revenged upon a Prince, who was doubly his Rival. To this purpose he discovered his design to d' Auteville, who having a share in the affront, was easily induced to have a part in the revenge, and promised to serve the Duke according to his intentions. Next Morning therefore the profligate undertaker, corrupted several Ruffians, needing only the temptation of Money▪ and among others, William and Thomas Courtois, and John de la Mothe, who promised him upon their words to second his pernicious design, to the utmost of their power. He also gained one of the King's Valet's de Chambre, who was sent to tell the Duke of Orleans, at that time gone to the Palais de Tournelles, to visit the Queen, it being St. Cecilia's day in the Evening, that the King desired to speak with him, at the Hostel de St. Paul. Immediately the Duke got a Horseback attended only by some of his Lackeys without any weapons, and one that carried a Flambeau before him. But when he came to the gate Barbette, before the house of Marshal d' Eurex, out comes d' Auteville from a Tavern, where he waited the Duke's coming with about fifteen or twenty of his accomplices, and flew upon him with his drawn sword; and having cut off his Bridle hand, threw him off his Horse, and delivered him to the rest of his Confederates, who stabbed him in several places. When they had done, they set fire to a house adjoining, on purpose to amuse the People, and made their escapes through by Lanes and Alleys. The Duke was carried into the Marshal de Fires house, where he expired; and thence to the Benedictin's Convent. The Parliament took cognisance of this Murder, and ordered a Councillor to take the Informations. He presently issued forth a Warrant against the squire of the Duke of Burgundy's Kitchen, who was charged by the witnesses; and in regard, he never stirred out of the Hostel d' Artois, where the Duke lodged, and whence they could not fetch him out by force without his Master's permission, the Councillor who had took the Information, went to demand him of the Duke at the Hostel de Nesle; where the Duke of Berry lay, and where the Council was kept. Louis de Anjon, King of Sierly, being then present, when the Councillor made his compliment to the Duke of Burgundy, took notice that he turned pale, and that a sudden disturbance seized upon his mind. Upon which he drew him aside, and having made him confess, that the Duke of Orleans had been assassinated by his order, he advised him to retire. The Duke took his advice, and departing the Hostel de Nesle without any noise, went home, took horse, and never stopped till he came to D●jon. However, he could not escape the punishment that Heaven had prepared for him.  
The Dauphin resolved to revenge the Death of the Duke of Orleans, year 1419 and contended for the regency during his Father's sickness. On the otherside, the Duke of Burgundy entered into a League with the King of England, and France was in a strange combustion. Persons of high quality interposed to accommodate the difference, and the Duke was solicited to do homage for the Dukedom of Burgundy. He felt strange combats in his breast, and struggled with more than one single passion upon this account, and before he would positively determine, he would needs take advice of Madam de Gyac, with whom he had a long time had an Intrigue. That Lady, who was still young and handsome, did not suit with the King's age, who was already going down the hill of his years, and would willingly have been reconciled to the Court, in hopes of smiting the Dauphin in the Eye, for whom she felt some kind of amorous inclination, and with that design, she advised the Duke to do what was demanded from him. The place appointed for the Ceremony, was Monterault, where a large room of hoards was erected upon the Bridge, with three bars that were let down, as the Duke passed forward. But when he was upon his knees, in order to do his homage, a pretence was taken from hence, that he laid his hand upon the hilt of his Sword; upon which, Tonnequi du Chastel, who stood next the Dauphin, felled the Duke, with a blow upon his Chin with his battle axe, and the rest of the Courtiers completed the Murder. However his death was revenged by his Children, who introduced the English into France; nor had the Dauphin, who in a short time after came to the Crown, by the name of Charles VII. saved the Kingdom, but by a particular assistance that Heaven miraculously sent him.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Charles VII.  
year 1424 JAQVELINE of Haynault, Countess of Holland, had espoused for her first Husband, John, Dauphin of France, the Son of Charles VI and after his death was married to John of Burgundy, the Son of Anthony Duke of Brabant his cousin. He was a Prince both old and gouty, who avoided the World, and sought retirement only. Jaqueline, was quite of another humour, and could not find in her heart to shut herself up in the Country with her Husband. However she was bound to obedience, and was constrained to confine herself with him in a Castle, whither he had withdrawn himself from the hurry of business. Nor had she any other consolation, then to bemoan in private with her Women, the fantastic humour of her Husband. Her Maid of honour had formerly made a voyage into England, attending at that time upon Katherine of France, who had married Henry V and she was returned with all the Officers of the Household of that Princess, whom the King her Husband had sent back, some Months after. Now tho' that Lady had made but a short stay in London, nevertheless she had seen all the magnificence of that Court, of which she made so pleasing a description to her Mistress, that she infused into her a desire to cross the Sea's, and taste her share of the pleasures which that Court afforded. The Lady also spoke to her so advantageously of Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, the King's Brother, that she caused her to conceive an esteem for that Prince, which did not a little disquiet her repose. She desired also to see his Picture, and opened her mind to her Maid of Honour, who found a way to satisfy her curiosity. And the Portraiture, and the Persuasions of her Woman, increased her Chimerical Passion to that degree, that she resolved to cross over into England. She imparted her design to none but such Officers, whom she could not avoid entrusting with her Secret, and having made choice of a day for her departure, she got a Horseback with a small Train, carrying all her Jewels along with her. She got to Dunkirk, whence she embarked for Dover, and so for London. She was well received by the King of England, and better by the Duke of Gloucester, who had been informed how much he was concerned in the voyage which she had undertaken. And he knew so well how to make the best of her preventing him, that he obliged her to yield her fell up to him, upon the faith of a Marriage, which she could not contract, in regard she had a Husband living. But the King of England's complacency in indulging her idle Passion, had like to have broken the good correspondence between him and the Duke of Burgundy, Cousin to the Duke of Brabant his kinsman; but reason of State prevailed above that frivolous Disgust. Sometime after, John of Bavaria, Duke of Luxembourg, Governor of the Counties of Holland and Zealand, ordained his Heir Philip Duke of Burgundy, his Sister's Son, without making any mention in his Will of Jaqueline, his Niece by the Father's side; which obliged her to return into Haynault, where the Duke of Gloucester would needs, accompany her. She was received by her Subjects with extraordinary Magnificence, notwithstanding the opposition of the Counts of Conversano and Anguien, who sided with the Duke of Brabant. The Duke of Gloucester also endeavoured to make himself Master of such places as he pretended were fallen to Jaqueline, by the death of the Duke of Luxembourg. But he was constrained to quit his enterprise, and her whole Rights he maintained, because Pope Martin V threatened him with Ecclesiastical Censures if he did not restore the Duke of Brabant his disloyal Wife. The Duke obeyed without any reluctance, and was glad of that pretence to abandon Jaqueline, that she might not perceive he was become unfaithful, and paid his Vows to another Shrine. For Jaqueline had taken along with her into Haynault an English Lady, who was called Madam Shelton; and the Duke was soon ware of the advantage which that Lady had over her Mistress, as well for the Graces of her Body, as for the fineness of her Wit, and delicacy of her Sentiments. Nor could he withstand so many charms, and finding they concurred with his Sedulities, he was glad to find himself at liberty, that he might follow his own inclinations. He therefore left the Duchess at Mons, and returned into England, where he married Madam Shelton. But the Duke of Gloucester's infidelity was not the only thing which troubled the Duchess; she feared the effects of her Husband's just resentment; and she imagined every moment, that she saw him invading her Territories with an armed Force. But the death of the Duke delivered her from these Fears▪ news being brought her in the midst of her disturbanbances, that a Fever which seized him at Brussels, had put an end both to his Life and his Jealousies.  
Réne de Anjou Duke of Barr, having had a contest with the Count of Vandemo●; who should succeed to Charles Duke of Lorraine, they disputed their Right by dint of Arms. The Count had recourse to the Duke of Burgundy, a sworn Enemy to the House of Anjou, who assisted him with Men and Money; and after he had obtained that reinforcement, he marched to find out his Enemy, meeting him in the Plain of Bullenville, near Neuchatel in Lorraine, he gave him Battle, defeated his Army, and took him prisoner. Nor could the Duke obtain his liberty, till the death of Joan, Queen of Sicily, called him to the succession of that kingdom. Isabella of Lorraine, his Wife, Niece to Mary of Anjou Queen of France, used all her Credit to mollify the Count, and persuade him to deliver her Husband. To which purpose she addressed herself to Charles VII. at Vienne, in the Dauphinate, beseeching him to make use of his Authority, with the Duke, to oblige him to gratify her Request. The King, who was naturally prone to Acts of kindness, complied with the Duchess, and was desirous to serve her: but the cruel Wars, which he had at that time with the English, so busily employed his time and thoughts, that the Duchess would have received but little satisfaction from him, had not another motive more pressing then that of Generosity, spurred him forward. The Duchess had brought along with her Agnes Forelle, who was one of her Maids of Honour: and the King being charmed with her Beauty, engaged himself to serve the Duke of Bar to the utmost of his Power; and in short, he did oblige the Count to set him at liberty. Agnes acknowledged the King's Favour, with all Respect that was due to his Person, and showed him all the complacency that became her Modesty. And now the Duchess having done her business, prepared for her voyage into Sicily with the King her Husband; and according to all outward appearnces, Agnes was to have waited upon her. But the King, that he might oblige her to abide at Court, made use of Merlin the famous ginger. One day that Charles was alone with Agnes, Merlin entered the Room; at what time the King, as had been concerted between 'em, asked him what he thought of the Fortune of that fair Lady. Sir, replied Merlin, either there is no Truth in the Stars, or else she will be the Mistress of some Great King. Agnes, who presently perceived the Artifice, made answer with a smile, If it be so, Sir, I beseech, your Majesty to give me leave to cross over into England, to the end my destiny may be accomplished: there being no likelihood that the Prediction concerns your Majesty, who have hardly a Third part of your Kingdom left ye. Charles understood Raillery, and joaked with Agnes upon her Repartee: but he made his advantage of it however. And 'tis said, that his eager desire to render himself worthy the Affections of that Virgin, exalted his Courage to perform those noble Achievements afterwards, that made his Reign so Illustrious. Agnes, tho' she had treated him like a King, despoiled of his Dominions, yet could she not choose but applaud herself for the conquest she had made of his Heart, which she was no less covetous of preserving to herself; and therefore was as willing as he, to second the means of which he had bethought himself to stop her journey. She feigned herself sick, and the King's Physicians that visited her, confirmed it, by the King's Order, and gave it for their Opinion, that she could not travel without endangering her Life; the Queen also promising the Duchess to take particular care of her, and to send her after her, so soon as she had recovered her health. Now, tho' the Duchess well knew, that Agnes was not so sick as she made herself, and that she suspected the best part of the Truth, she took little notice of it, believing that if the Queen, who had most reason to concern herself, were so free to give her consent, 'twas not for her to make any opposition. After she was gone, Agnes grew better and better every day, and soon after quitted her bed of Sickness. And then she appeared at Court with new Charms, and the King's Passion for her, became so strong, that he heaped upon her new Favours every day. He gave her the County of Ponthieure, and finding her to be a Woman of a solid Judgement, he consulted her in Affairs of the greatest importance, and she was the Conduit-pipe through which he conveyed all his Favours. All the Court looked upon the King's kindness to her with Envy; but more especially the Dauphin, who being already of age sufficient to have a share in the Government, stomached to see that his Father imparted none of his designs to him. Tho' Agnes let no occasion of doing him good offices escape her, he looked upon all Kindnesses, all Favours, which he received upon her recommendation, as so many empoisoned Presents. Therefore he made it his continual study, by what means he could, to destroy her in the King's Affection: and in regrrd there was no way to do it, but by representing her disloyal to the King's Bed, he made it his business to put a Gallant upon her, who, as he was sufficiently devoted to his Interests, so he had merit enough to kindle the King's jealousy. To this purpose he cast his eyes upon Chabane, the Count of Dammartin, who, of all the Persons at Court, was the most accomplished for Beauty and Parts, and broke the proposal to him. The Count trembled at the first overture that was made him, and told the Prince, that though he owed him all the services that lay in his power, he could not resolve to engage in an affair, which would infallibly draw upon him his ruin; whether the King thought his Passion sincere, or whether he suspected that his love for Agnes was but counterfeited, on purpose to undo her. The Dauphin encouraged him, and told him, that so far from running any hazard, he would rather preserve the King's Favour, by sacrificing his pretended Passion, in giving him an account of all the marks of tenderness which he had received from the Countess of Ponthieure, and promising never to visit her more. Chabane, overruled by the Dauphin's Reasons, applied himself wholly to the business, and made it his study to bring about his design. He had a Valet de chamber, a crafty nimble youngster, named St. Colombe▪ whom he entrusted with the false show of his Love for the Countess, and engaged him to court Mortaigne, who of all her Waiting Women, was the person in whom she put the greatest confidence. St. Columbe was easily persuaded to undertake the business, and in regard he was very handsome, he found little resistance in Mortaigne's tender Heart, who quickly gave him all the most particular marks of her Affection. When St. Columbe had obtained his desires, he insinuated into his Mistress, that it would be more easy for 'em to continue their amorous Commerce, if she could engage the Countess in an intrigue with Chabane. Mortaigne approved her Lover's advice; and from that very Evening she laboured to bring it about. Being alone with her Mistress when she was going to Bed, she began to talk of all the Lords of the Court, and after she had given her opinion of every one, she named to her, after a careless manner, the Count of Dammartin. Upon the hearing of that name only, the Lady's countenance changed, and she showed such an aversion for him, that Mortaigne durst nor speak a word more. However, she gave an account to her Lover, who made his report to his Master, without concealing the least circumstance. Chabane revolving in his Mind the Countess' behaviour, to see whether the Countess had any reason to hate him, and being convinced that he had never done any thing to displease her, he Divined the Truth, and rightly Judged, that those marks of aversion were only an effect of the Indignation of that lovely Lady, that he was the only person at Court, who had withstood the power of her Charms, and that he had never answered those passionate glances, which she had cast upon him in vain. He examined with himself, what course he ought to take, and thought, it the safest way to engage the Countess to make the first steps. He gave her to understand, that he understood the Language of the Eyes; but at the same time he avoided all occasions of speaking to her. But the Countess was still more offended, when she perceived that he had dived into the Sentiments of her Heart, yet never stirred a foot to make any advantage of her favourable Inclinations. She therefore looked upon it as a point of Honour to make him sensible, and meeting him one day in a dark passage, that led from her Apartment to the King's, at what time he passed on without making any stop; Am I so terrible, Count, said she, that you should fly me thus? More than you can imagine, Madam, replied Chabane: a Lady so beautiful as yourself is enough to make the most undaunted courage tremble. Is it then so great a mischief to love me, replied the Countess? Yes, Madam, replied Chabane, when a Man can never hope to be happy, without betraying his Master. You are very nice for a Courtier, added the Countess; but we know how to cure your scruples. She said no more, but after she had spoken these words, passed on, afraid of being surprised in a Conversation, which the nature of the place would have rendered suspicious. Chabane stood there for some time, ruminating upon this Adventure; for he would have willingly served the Dauphin, but he could not find in his heart, to betray a person that had appeared so amiable to him. Nevertheless, his Love prevailed above his Ambition, and he resolved to think of nothing but making himself happy, and preserving so good a fortune. He saw his Affairs in so fair a way, that there wanted nothing toward obtaining all that he could desire, but to be alone with the Countess, and to that purpose, he addressed himself to Mortaigne. He told her that he found himself very unhappy, to have drawn upon himself the hatred of her Mistress, though he knew not which way he had deserved so great a misfortune, but that he was resolved to know the reason of it from her own Lips, or to kill himself before her Face; and therefore begged of her to give him an opportunity to discourse the Countess alone. Mortaigne excused herself at first, and told him, that knowing so well as she did, her Mistress' Mind, she must expect the utmost of her Mistress' indignation, should she contribute to an interview of that nature. But the Count, who knew well enough, that Agnes would not be so much offended at the sight of him, as Mortaign imagined, could have easily disabused her, durst he have discovered a secret which the Countess had concealed from her, for fear of being accused of indiscretion. Therefore he made use of another Fetch to encourage her, and gave her to understand, that she might easily do him such a piece of service, without appearing in the least to have contributed toward it. These reasons, and a rich Diamond Ring which he put upon Mortaignes' Finger totally defeated her. She promised to introduce him into a Wardrobe of which she had the key, from whence he might slip into the Countess' Chamber, so soon as she had left her. And this expedient prospered. Agnes was surprised to see Chabane, so late in her apartment: but at length, seeing 'twas so, she thought it became her to make the best of the opportunity; and without spending time in useless contests, she knew better, then to waste those minutes that Love makes precious.  
This intrigue lasted a long time, without being discovered, there being nothing to interrupt it, but the importunities of the Dauphin, who pressed Chabane to give him an opportunity, to let the King see that his Mistress was disloyal to him. Chabane excused himself, and denied his being in a capacity to serve him, under several protences; which tho' they were accompanied with a great deal of probability, yet the Prince who was not to be baffled suspected that Chabane did not deal fairly by him. Therefore to find out the truth▪ he engaged the Dauphiness to enter in a strict society with the Countess, and to admit her into all her sports and Matches that she made. On the othersule, Chabane, that he might not be known, was introduced into his Mistresses' chamber in Liveries, sometimes of one colour, sometimes of another, feigning to carry some message. One Evening that he went thither in the Dauphinesses Livery, the King and the Dauphin entered; and in regard there was no light in the chamber, the Count stole out again, without being seen. However the Countess afraid lest the shadow of her Lover might have been perceived, to remove all suspicion from the King, told him that the Dauphiness had sent her Lackey to give notice of a match that she had made against the next day. But the Young Prince was too cunning to fall into such a snare; he rightly judged, it was not for nothing that the Countess had no light in her Chamber, and made no question but the Lackey was some Lover in disguise. Nevertheless for his better satisfaction, so soon as he returned to his apartment, he asked the Dauphiness, what message she had sent to the Countess, and understood from her own Lips, that she had sent no body to her, of any errand at all.  
Now, tho' the Dauphin were convinced of the truth, by all these circumstances, these were not proofs sufficient to disabuse the King, who was absolutely convinced of the Loyalty of his Mistress: and therefore, there was a necessity of surprising her a Bed with Chabane. To which purpose, he gave order to one of the Scotch Guards, to have a vigilant Eye upon the actions of the two Lovers. The Soldier acquitted himself with extraordinary exactness, and came one Evening to inform the Dauphine, that Chabane was gone into the Countess' lodging, in the habit of a Lace-Merchant. Immediately the Dauphin posted to her apartment, but discovered nothing, in regard the Countess had hid her Lover upon the first noise that she heard. Upon the Dauphine's visit, Chabane thought he was betrayed, and therefore gave order to St. Columbre, to observe whither any body watched him. Who so faithfully discharged his duty, that they found the Soldier upon the watch at the entrance into the Countess' apartment, and presently gave Chabane notice of it; who for that reason forbore meeting his Mistress that Night, for fear of being surprised, and rightly judging, that it would be impossible to continue his amorous commerce, unless he could get rid of the spy that was set to watch him, ordered St. Co●●●●e to have him assassinated. Thereupon St. Columbe wriggled himself into the acquaintance of the Scotch Soldier, and having carried him to a Tavern, after they had done drinking, led him through a blind street, where he had posted half a dozen desperate Raskels, that fell upon him, and laid him dead upon the pavement. One of the Duke of Tremovilles' Lackeys, who was a kin to the Scotch Soldier, seeing him attacked, went to call some of his comrades, and came to his rescue, but too late; for the business was done, and the Murderers were dispersed. However, in regard that several persons in the Duke of Tremovilles' Livery were seen about the body, the Duke himself was accused to have been the author of the Assasination. The Dauphin was the only person that would not be surprised by these appearances, as guessing right, that the Murder was committed by the order of Chabane. Nevertheless he would not take any notice of it to any body, lest the fear of danger should dishearten those that he designed to employ in the farther espial of these secret rendezvouses, to serve him according to his desires. Therefore he said no more, but set other spies to work, and caused the Countess to be so narrowly watched, that word was brought him that Ch●bane was entered her Chamber in the disguise of a Stationer, with a great bundle of Books under his Arm. Immediately he went to inform the King. What said he merrily, I hope 'tis not la Trimo●●le, but tho' the Dauphin knew well enough, 'twas Chabane, he answered his Father, that he could not tell who it was, but that his Majesty would be soon satisfied. The Dauphin also had ordered all the Avenues to be so well guarded, that it was impossible for the Count of Dammartin to escape. But the Countess having timely notice by Mortaigne, who kept diligent watch and ward, locked him up in a Closet by the side of the Bed, which the King had never observed, as being covered with the Hang. So that the King found his Mistress a Bed; and while he was examing the Books that lay by her, the Dauphin asked her between jest and earnest, what was become of the Bookseller that sold her the Books? To whom the Countess with a countenance no way concerned, made answer, that he was gone, but that he could not be out of call, if his Highness had any thing to say to him. The Dauphin took a Flambeau himself, and finding nothing, after he had sought all about, retired without saying a word, full of vexation and shame, for the ill success of his enterprise. The King on the otherside, made a thousand excuses to the Countess, and the better to make his peace, would needs lie with her that night. Nor durst the Countess give him the least denial, tho' she was sure to spend the night in a strange intermixture of pleasure and disquiet. Nor was Chabane in a better condition; he was so near the Bed that he durst not breath; and which was worse, he was forced to lie patiented, while his own Ears told him, that another was enjoying those pleasures which were appointed for himself. But at length the King risen and left him at liberty, to make himself amends for his past sufferings. The Countess who looked upon the Dauphin as the Author of all her vexations, no longer had the patience, to carry fair with him as she had done before. They had frequent quarrels together, and one day such was the heat of passion on both sides, that the Dauphin gave her a whirret o'the Ear. Of which she made her complaints to the King, but not receiving that satisfaction which she expected, despite and vexation threw her into a languishing disease, of which she died in six weeks after, and was buried in the Collegiate Church. She had two Daughters by the King; Charlote, married Lewis de Brezè, Seneschal of Normandy, who surprising her in the act of Adultery, stabd' her to death; and Mary who espoused Oliver de Coitiny, Lord of Rochefort.  

Anno 1455.  After the Death of the Countess of Ponthieure, the King engaged with Madam de Villequiers her Niece, a Lady no less charming than she, and who inherited her hatred of the Dauphin, and persuaded Charles, that the Dauphin had caused her Ant to be poisoned. On the otherside, the Dauphin employed all the inventions of a crafty wit, to set the King at variance with Madam de Villequiers, but not being able to accomplish his design, he withdrew into the Dauphinate, whither all the malcontents resorted to him by his own encouragement. The King after he had made use of all gentle means to reduce him to his duty, commanded Chabane to march against him, and to apprehend his person; of which the Dauphin having intelligence, left Grenoble privately, and retired to the Duke of Burgundy. The King seeing his Son in the hands of his mortal Enemy, began to mistrust every body that came near him, and imagining every moment that there was a design to poison him, continued without eating eight days together, and weakened his natural heat by that long abstinence in such a manner, that afterwards when he came to eat again, 'twas impossible for him to digest his nourishment, which brought him to his Grave. Such was the tragical end of the Amours of this Prince.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Lewis XI.  

Anno 1469.  LEWIS XI. who had always great designs, sent the Cardinal d'Albret into Spain, to negotiate a marriage between the Duke of Guienne his Brother, with Isabella of Castille, the Sister of Henry IU. and presumptive heir of that Kingdom. But that Princess rather chose to unite Castille to Arragon, by the marriage of Ferdinand, eldest Son of Don Juan II. This negotiation therefore proving unsuccessful, Lewis XI. cast his Eyes upon the Princess Joan, which Joan of Castille had had by one of her favourites, and which King Henry had acknowledged for his Daughter, notwithstanding he was impotent, in hopes to set up the rights of that Princess against Isabella. But the Duke of Guienne, to whom the King made the proposal, would not so much as hear of a match that must have engaged him in a bloody War with the King of Arragon, and privately sent to demand Mary, the only Daughter and heiress of Charles Duke of Burgundy. But the Duke who saw that the greatest Princes in Europe sought his Daughter, would not determine so suddenly upon the choice of a Son in Law, but without engaging his promise to any one, kept 'em all in suspense. The Duke of Guyenne vexed at this hesitation of the Duke, took his leave of the King at Orleans, to go and drive away his melancholy in his own Government. At Amboise he had a sight of Magdalen, who had been the Widow of Lewis d' Amboise, about six months, who had married her for her beauty, but had no Children by her. The Duke was so pleased with her conversation, that he forgot for some time, that he had left the Court to retire to his Government of Bourdeaux, and made a proposal to Madam d' Amboise to go along with him: but she excused herself, alleging the injury it would be to her reputation. The Duke therefore to vanquish her scruples, conferred upon her the County of St. Severe, and obliged her by that same generous present, to answer his passion. The pretence then for her going was to take possession of certain Lands, which as she gave out, she had purchased of the Duke; and this served to conceal the Intrigue, that was between him and her. They arrived together at Bourdeaux, very well satisfied with each other; and Madam d' Amboise, who was not ungrateful for the favours she and received from the Duke, made use of all talents that Heaven had bestowed upon her, to preserve his affection. She sung with art, and had a charming voice, she played upon several instruments, and had a delicate vain in Poetry; so that the hours they spent together, ne'er seemed tedious. But in regard that Love is not always satisfied with these innocent pastimes, Madam d' Amboise was delivered of a Daughter, that after the death of the Duke her Father, was Abbess of St. Paroux in Perigort. The Duke's affection for his Mistress also daily increased, and their happiness would have been a subject worthy of envy, had not ambition interrupted their felicities. For the Duke of Guyenne held correspondences all a long at Court, which made the King jealous. He was afraid lest his Brother should grow too potent, and therefore suborned Jordan Fanre, Abbot of St. John de Angeli to poison him. That traitor upon whom the Duke of Guyenne had heaped his favours, readily undertook to sacrifice his life for the hopes of a pitiful reward. To which purpose he presented a lovely Peach to Madam d' Amboise, which he had envenomed: the Lady gave it her Lover, who sliceing it into a cup of wine, they eat it both together. Madam d' Amboise died the same day, but the Duke lay languishing for some Months. Nevertheless, the violence of the poison was so strong, that it fetched off his hair, the nails of his hands, and deprived him of the use of his limbs. Jourdain was apprehended, and the Bishop of Angiers was joined in Commission with Lewis d' Amboise, afterwards Bishop of Albi, to prosecute him. But the King put a stop to the prosecution, and ordered that the impeachment, as well as the informations, should be sent to him; which discovered to the World, the share which he had in the fact. But Heaven would not permit so enormous a crime to go unpunished; for the villain was consumed by a flash of Lightning that burned him to ashes, at the bottom of the dungeon, where he lay in Fetters.  
year 1474 THE Duke of Burgundy took the Field, to revenge the death of the Duke of Guyenne, and entering Picardy, committed great havoc in the Country. The King on the other side, mustered what Forces he could together to defend the Province, and arriving at a Village near Amiens, called Gigon, was accosted by a Woman all beblubbered with tears, who falling at his feet, demanded justice against his Soldiers, who making their way by violence to quarter in the Village of which her Husband was the Lord, had slain him. The King cast his Eyes upon the Widow, and perceived so many charms in her countenance, that he was dazzled with the sight of 'em. He raised her from the ground, and assured her he would punish the guilty so soon as he came to a place where he made any stay: Soon after, the King made a Truce with the Duke of Burgundy,, and returning to Paris, carried Madam de Gigon along with him: he discovered to her the Passion he had for her, and heaped so many Favours upon her, that he soon made her forget her loss. Nor was she ungrateful, but signalised her acknowledgement at the expense of her Honour. She had one Daughter that was afterwards married to the Bastard of Bourbon. The custom of that time was for Ladies to adorn themselves with Jewels, and they wore Chains of Precious Stones, that came three or four times about their Necks. The King gave Order to a famous Jeweller, whose name was Passefilon, to make one of those Chains for Madam Gigon; and the Jeweller's Wife carried it home to the King's Mistress, so soon as it was finished. The King was then by accident in her Chamber, and found the Jeweller's Wife so lovely, that his Love for Madam Gigon, could not protect his Heart against her Charms. However, he could not discover his Passion in his Mistress' Presence, but commanded Landais his Treasurer to send her to him, when she came to be paid for the Chain; telling him, that he would drive the bargain himself; which was a usual thing for him to do, in regard, that being very covetous, he would be taking notice of the meanest trifles, to hinder his Officers from making any advantage of their Places. Mrs. Passefilon, then, was admitted into his Cabinet, and observing her but in an ordinary Dress, he told her in plain terms, without fetching any great compass about, that if she would comply with his Passion, she should gain more by him in a year, than she could get as long as she lived in her Shop. The Jeweller's Wife, who loved Money, and had been a witness of the raising of Madam de Gigon, easily surrendered to this Royal Temptation, and the bargain was presenly concluded. In a short time she grew big with Child, and brought the King another Daughter, that was afterwards married to Anthony de Bueil, Count of Sancerre. But when Passefilon saw that she had wherewithal to live like a Lady, she was as willing as others to taste some high sauce with her amorous Pleasures, and was resolved to persuade her Royal Paramour to go more neatly dressed, than he was wont to do. One day therefore, that the King came to pay her a visit in a homely Suit, and a foul Shirt, Sir, said she, When I surrendered my Heart to a King of France, I thought to have sound in the Courtly commerce wherein I had embarked myself, all the Gaieties of Ornament and Gallantry, that the Magnificence of the most noble Court in Europe could have afforded; nevertheless, 'tis my grief, that when I have an eager desire to abandon myself to to the transports of a tender Passion; I smell nothing but slovenly Grease, where nothing but Musk and Amber should perfume my Nose. In truth, should one of my Apprentices accost me in that same Garb that you are in, I would kick him out of my sight. What must Foreign Ministers say, that see you so ill support the Majesty of your Royal Dignity? What Lampoons did the Spaniards make, between your Majesty and the King of Castille, upon your threadbare Cap, and your Leaden Agnus Dei, instead of one beset with Diamonds? The King was so amazed at this Curtain Lecture, that he had not the power to interrupt her; However, as he was a great dissembler, he did not discover his disgust, though he thought it high time to get him a more complaisant Mistress. To that purpose, having heard much talk of a young Lady of Dijon, whose name was Huguette de Jaqueline, that was well descended, but very poor, he sent for her to Court, and having taken her for his Mistress, he had a Third Daughter by her, whom he bestowed upon Amànd of Poitiers, Lord of St. Valier.   

Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Charles VIII.  

Anno 1483.  LEWIS, Duke of Orleans, had the misfortune to be beloved by Ann of France, the Daughter of Lewis XI. I say the misfortune, because the Passion of that Princess, was in good part, the cause of all the crosses that befell him, during his life. She gave him to understand her Inclinations toward him, and though the Duke did not comply with her, but in terms rather of Respect then Tenderness, yet she surceased not to interpret 'em favourably, and to believe she was beloved, because she deserved to be so. She refused for love of the Duke of Orleans, a Match, which her Father would have made for her with Nicholas of Anjou, Duke of Lorraine, and acknowledged to that Prince, that it was the only reason of her refusal. He answered with so much indifferency to what she spoke to him the most obligingly in the world upon that occasion, that she began at length to open her Eyes, and to understand that she had flattered herself to little purpose; when she thought he had complied with her tenderness, which was the reason that she resolved to marry Peter of Bourbon, Duke of Beaujou. Upon the first proposal of it, that the King her Father made her, as she was unwilling to be unfortunate alone, she persuaded Lewis XI. over whom she had a powerful Ascendant, to marry the Duke of Orleans to Joan of France, his Daughter, who was neither beautiful, nor of an agreeable temper. The Duke would fain have excused himself, but the King laid his Commands upon him so imperiously, that he was forced to obey. 'Tis true, that the Marriage was not consummated, whether it were, that he had an aversion for the Princess, or that she had some natural defects, as it was afterwards pretended, which hindered her having of Children. After the death of Lewis XI, the Duke of Orleans demanded the Regency, during the minority of Charles VIII. who was not above Thirteen years of age; but the Duchess of Beaujou carried it before him. But though she had got this advantage, yet for all that she could not choose but seek the Duke of Orleans' friendship, whom she had not the power to hate, notwithstanding his indifferency, and she offered him a share in the Government, if he would but live in a friendly correspondence with her: but he returned those Answers, that ill became him to her civilities. Thereupon, the Duchess exasperated by his Contempt, studied nothing so much, as which way to be revenged. She grounded her pretence upon a quarrel which the Duke of Orleans had had with the Duke of Lorraine, while he was playing at Tennis with him, and would have had the Duke apprehended; but he withdrew to the Duke of Bretagne. In whose Court, while the Duke of Orleans resided, he waited most sedulously upon the Princess Ann his Daughter, and fell so deeply in love with her, that he preserved his Passion for her, till his death. In the mean time he entered into a strict confederacy against the Duchess Regent, of which, himself, and the Duke of Bretagne were the Heads. They betook themselves to Arms on both sides, and they came to the decision of a Battle in the Plain of St. Aubin: where the Confederate Princes were defeated, and the Duke of Orleans being taken prisoner, was afterwards locked up in the Tower of Bourges: nor was he released till after Charles VIII. had espoused Ann of Bretagne, and at the same time that the King was preparing for his expedition into Italy.   

Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Lewis XII.  
LEWIS of Orleans being come to the Crown, made it his whole study to marry the Princess Ann, Widow of Charles VIII. his Predecessor. He caused the Reasons for the dissolving of his Marriage with the Princess Joan to be laid before Pope Julius, as being uncapable of ever bringing forth Successors to the Crown, and desired a Dispensation from his Holiness, to marry the fair Queen, whom he dearly loved. Nor would his impatience permit him to stay till he received the Dispensation: 'twas enough to hear by the Legate's Secretary, whom he had gained to his side, that it was allowed and drawing up. Yet for all this, the love of that Princess, surceased not to cause him new disturbances. She became jealous of Lovise of Savoy, Countess of Angoulesme, Mother of Francis the First, and their hatred broke forth to that degree of exasperation, that it divided the whole Court into Parties. Lewis XII. had a design to marry the Princess Claudia his Daughter with the young Count of Angoulême, whom he looked upon as his Successor, but the Queen opposed it to the utmost of her power. Therefore to cross this design, she resolved to marry her with Charles of Austria, who was already called Prince of Spain, and to give him Bretagne in favour of that Alliance. To this purpose, she sent privately a Gentleman of the House of Rieux into Flanders, and thence into Germany. This Gentleman made the Proposal to the Emperor Maximilian, the Prince's Grandfather, by the Father's side, and to Chievures, his Governor. They agreed upon the Articles, which were Signed, and there remained nothing but the Ceremony of the Nuptials, which had been solemnised unknown to the King, had not the tender age of the Parties been an obstacle to the Consummation; and had it been in the power of the Queen to have disposed of her Daughter as she would herself: to which end, fortune sometime after gave her an opportunity, of which she tried to make her advantage.  
The King falling sick at Paris, his distemper increased to that degree, that the Physicians gave him over for lost, and while the whole Court was in a consternation upon the desperate condition of the King's health, the Queen took her opportunity privately, to send away her Daughter by water down the River Loire, to Nantes. But passing through Angiers, she was stopped by the Marshal de Gi●, who was Governor of that place. The Marshal was one that took part with the Countess of Angoulême, and in regard, he was not ignorant that the Queen opposed the King's design of marrying Claudia, with the Son of that Princess, he soon conjectured the reason that his master's Daughter was sent away by that private conveyance, during his Sickness. Nor was he ignorant how prejudicial the conjunction of Bretagne to the Dominions of Spain, would be to France, which was the reason, that without many more to do, he resolved to cross a contrivance so dangerous, notwithstanding he was assured that the Queen would never forgive him, should the King happen to die of his Sickness. Thereupon he stopped the Princess,, with most respectful protestations of his sorrow, for being constrained to come to that extremity. This action of the Marshal was commended by the King, and all good French men, and the Queen herself feigned to applaud it; however, when the King was recovered, she made use of her credit to ruin that faithful subject. Nevertheless she could not prevent the marriage of her Daughter with the Count of Angoulême, because it was generally desired. But it was such an inward vexation to her, that sinking under the weight of her corroding anguish, she died in the thirty seven Year of her age. 'Tis true, the King did not express that sorrow for her death, as 'tis thought he would have done, considering the passion he had for her, as long as she lived: whither it were that his mind was taken up with his cares of the Wars of Italy, or that the Queen's attempts against his authority, had cooled the heat of his Love. However after that, he lived such a reserved life, that no body believed he would ever have thought of a third Marriage; but the Duke of Longueville was the occasion of reviving that desire in him.  
That Prince having rashly engaged himself in a battle against the English, year 1514 lost the battle of Spurs, and became a prisoner to Henry VIII. of England. To repair this fault, he undertook during his imprisonment, to bring off that Prince from his confederacy with the Emperor, nor did he find any great trouble to persuade him to it. For though he were very young, he was very thrifty, and he was a weary of paying the Emperor's Troops, who was extremely poor; and of furnishing him a hundred Crowns a day for his table. There only wanted therefore a plausible pretence to break the Confederacy; and there was not a better at that time to be found, than a more strict alliance between France and England.  
Henry VIII. had a Sister whose beauty was a domestic mischief to him, as we shall find in the sequel of this history. She was born after another Daughter, so much unprovided of the graces of the body, that the King of Scotland had never married her, but because the King would not marry the youngest before the eldest. The youngest being come of Age, the Duke of Milan, and several other Sovereign Princes sought her in vain, because 'twas not then the custom to marry the King's Daughter, out of the Island. This custom, which had not been altered for four Ages together, had infused into the young English Lords of the highest Quality, a confidence to pretend to the Princess, and the King gave way to it, lest he should be accused of too much severity toward his Sister; tho' he had no design to have married her to any of his subjects, for fear of drawing a civil War upon himself, not unlike to those wherein several of his predecessors had miscarried. Nevertheless, in regard it is a difficult thing for a Woman to hold out any long time against Love, when she makes it her business to allure, the Princess of England, after she had entangled in the snares of Love, all those that could give any cause of jealousy to her Brother, was herself smitten with one, whom he had little reason to fear. There was introduced into the Court of England, a young English Gentleman, whose name was Charles Brandon, without any other recommendation, then that of the King's Nurse, whose Son he was. He was extremely handsome, well proportioned in his person, and very active in all manner of exercises. He had the air of a person of Quality; and there was observed in him that sweetness of temper, and that discretion, that he was welcome into all societies, and chief into the Lady's company, who were altogether prevalent at Court. The King took him for his second in all his matches at Tennis, and made him the confident of all his most secret pleasures. He conferred upon him the office of his chief Huntsman, and lest his name should remind the Courtiers of the meaness of his Birth, he caused him to assume the title of the Counts of Suffolk, illustrious for the merit and quality of the persons who had born it, for above two hundred years. It is not certainly known, whether this new title had convinced the Princess, that she might, bestow her affection without any dishonour, upon the person whom the King her Brother had honoured with it; since the English Histories are full of precedents of several Earls of Suffolk, that have pretended to the marriage of the Sisters and Daughters of their King's; or whether the Love which she already had for him, had imprinted that Idea in her mind in his favour; but it was observed, that in a short time after the Princess looked upon Suffolk with a more passionate glance, than she was wont to do.  
Nor what it so much to be wondered at, that the Earl should make her suitable returns, with Eyes no less inflamed and sparkling. And the Courtiers in a little time were so used to it, that they took little notice of it: whether it were the custom at that time, to love at well beneath as above their quality, or whether it were, that the Courtiers thought it not proper to be more concerned about it, than the King himself was, who only laughed at the business, and made himself merry with the two lovers, so soon as he discovered their reciprocal affection. Not that he approved it in the main, or that he had so high a value for Suffolk, as to make him his Brother in Law, (though he had a greater kindness for him, then for the rest of his Courtiers.) But he was in hopes to draw some advantage from the inequality of this Amour, which he thought would exasperate the English Lords against her, and cause 'em to desist from looking any more after her; besides that, he assured himself that he should be so much the master of his Sister, and Suffolk, that nothing should be acted between them two, but by his consent.  
This was the posture of the Court of England, when the Duke of Longueville made a proposal as from himself, of a match between the Princess, and Lewis XII. The King of England listened to him with those marks of respect and approbation, which sufficiently discovered what he had in his Heart. He was importuned to bestow his Sister out of the way, and he met with the most lucky means that Fortune ever could have offered him. 'Tis true, he could not without some trouble to himself, put an end to a War so advantageous to him, however it would have been no less a vexation to him, to separate from his new Mistress, who would have been unwilling to cross the Seas, and follow him in his Armies.  
In the mean time he was engaged to repass into France, upon the return of the Spring, not doubting but that if he failed in his promise, both his Enemies and his own Soldiers would accuse him of Cowardice. There was nothing but a Peace that could handsomely disengage him from that excessive expense which he would be obliged to be at, if he intended to keep the Emperor's Army in pay the next Spring. In short, he grew weary of contributing to the ambitious designs of the King of Spain, his Brother in Law, yet getting nothing by it, and contented himself with having been twice deceived by as many Treaties signed by his Ambassador Quintana, as subtle a Fox of a Castilian, as ever was born. Nevertheless the King of England being haughty, told the Duke of Longueville, that it would be time enough to think of his Sister, when she should be demanded in due form. As much as to say, that it was not from the mouth of a Prisoner that the King was to take notice of any proposal of that nature.  
The Duke of Longueville gave a shrewd guess at the King's thoughts, and sent into France, under pretence of sending for his ransom, a Gentleman who assured Lewis XII. that it would be his own fault if he did not make a Peace with England upon reasonable conditions, and marry the King's Sister, who was the most lovely Woman in Europe. Lewis, who had always an amorous inclination, willingly entertained the proposal, and the portraiture of the Princess, that was sent him, was too powerful a charm to let his affection for the Female Sex lie dormant. He flattered himself also with the hopes of having a Son, and casting off all his former fears, of the inconveniencies that might befall him, if Bretagne were separated from the Crown, he dispatched into England the General of Normandy, who concluded both the Peace and the Match in fifteen days, and carried the Princess to Boulogne, where the Count of Angoulême, had Orders to go and receive her.  
The Count most gladly undertaken and discharged his trust, though the marriage which he solemnised by procuration from the King was the way, in all probability to deprive him of the Crown. However, Francines, the King's chief Physician, assured him that the King was very unlikely to have any more Children. So that he appeared at Boulogne like a Prince, who only minded his divertisement; at what time, he could not forbear falling in Love with her, whom he married for his Father in Law, as she could not choose but wish, that Heaven had ordained the Count for her Husband. And the convenience which they had to entertain each other with private Conversation, might perhaps have prompted 'em to have taken a far greater liberty, if the Prothonotary du Pont, who was placed near the Prince to moderate in some measure the transports of his youth, had not put it into his head, that 'twas not the new Queen's interest, to keep herself very cbast; because that in regard she was going to a Husband, by whom, as all People said, she would never have any Children, 'twas to be feared she would submit to a temptation that might help her to a Child, for the preservation of her race in France, when she came to he a Widow, and dispense with her return into England, under subjection to her Brother: but that as for himself, it concerned him above all Men, to take care of the Queen's living chastily, as being a thing far remote from his Interest, to solicit her to incontinence: for that if she had a Son by him, that Son would hinder him from coming to the Crown, and reduce him to be contented with Bretagne, which his Wife had brought him, while he contrary to the order of nature, must: be forced to do Homage to a Bastard. This reason cooled the Count of Angoulême's courage, and caused him to look upon the Queen with no other than jealous Eyes: and he watched her so narrowly, that at length he discovered the kindness she had for Suffolk. He followed her with the character of her Champion of Honour, but carried himself with that discretion, that they could have never penetrated into his affairs, had they not been already discovered in England.  
The Count understood every thing so well, that the slightest circumstances were not concealed from him, and because it was no less than either the loss or gaining of a Crown, that was now in agitation, he sought an opportunity to speak with Suffolk in private. He told him that he was well acquainted with his good correspondence with the Queen, and that he was so far from breaking it off, that he would countenance him in it, provided he might be no loser by it: that the King was not in condition to have Children, nor to live long: that Suffolk could never think of making any progresses in the Queen's favour, without exposing himself to the danger of being discovered, by a multitude of spies that would never lose sight of him; so that if he took never so little liberty, he was a lost Man past all redemption. On the otherside, if he would give him assurance to contain himself within the bounds of respect, he would engage never to cross his good fortune after the King's death, nay he would connive at his marrying the Queen in private, and allow him an establishment in France, as good as he could desire, till he could make his peace with the King of England.  
Tho' the Duke of Angoulême never considered at the time of his making those proposals, whither he could be as good as his word, when he came to the Crown, Suffolk found 'em so advantageous, that he was charmed with 'em, and accepted of 'em as real performances. He promised more than the Duke demanded, and offered to be himself a Spy upon the Queen. But, in regard it would have been a piece of imprudence to have wholly confided in his Word, Precautions were taken to hinder him from breach of Faith, should he have gone about to have violated his promise. The Baroness of Aumont was made of Honour to the Queen, and became her most intimate Confident. And it was by the advice of the Queen, that she enlarged the functions of her Office, beyond the usual bounds; and that knowing the Queen to be fearful and unwilling to lie alone, she pretended that the Honour of lying with the Queen in the King's absence, belonged to her, and carried it, to the exclusion of all the Ladies which the Queen brought with her out of England.  
Now because the Count of Angoulême's Friends thought it absolutely necessary, that he should have secret and faithful Spies about the Queen; Madam, and the Baroness d'Aumont undertook that Province, and divided their time so exactly between 'em, that either the one or the other was always by her; nor did she ever suspect the true Reason, for that she had much more Beauty then Wit. The Baroness covered their sedulity with the fair pretence of that Duty which they said they were obliged to pay her, the one as her Daughter-in-law, the other, as her Maid of Honour. There was only Suffolk who was so quicksighted as to perceive their design: but in regard he found at the same time they took care to conceal it, he rather chose to feign ignorance, then to give the Queen notice of it, for fear the Count should seek his rain, as taking from thence, an occasion to tax him with breach of Promise.  
This was the posture of the Intrigues at Court, when the King died, the First day of the year 1515. six Weeks or thereabout after his Nuptials. However, the Queen was observed with the same exactness as before, so long as there was any reason to doubt whether she was with Child, or no. But after she had declared herself free, and that that they were assured by undeniable proofs; that her Declaration was sincere, the Count of Angoulême being advanced to the Crown, by the name of Francis I. was desirous to keep his word exactly with Suffolk. To which purpose he spoke of it in his Council; at what time his Ministers endeavoured to divert him from it, laying before him, that it would be the committing a fault at the beginning of his Reign, which was never to be repaired, and an unsurmountable obstacle to his designs of marching into Italy for the recovery of the Duchy of Milan, which his predecessors had lost; and that it behoved him before his departure, to secure himself against his neighbours, more especially the English, who were most of all to be feared: that Hen. VIII. was the most haughty Monarch in Europe, and that it would be the most sensible injury that could be done him, to permit an inferior Marriage of his Sister. However, the consideration of Honour was more predominant over Francis I. then his own Interests. He suffered Suffolk to marry the Queen Dowager privately, and the King of England, whose haughty Passion was sometimes softened by a capricious Humour, which at times got the upper hand of him, consented to the Marriage when it could not be undone, which he never would have permitted before the knot was knit. His tender kindness for Suffolk revived in him, when he saw him guilty of a crime, which it behoved him, either absolutely to pardon, or to cut of his Head: and that Love, which he could not brook one day himself, without discovering it to the Party that was the occasion of it, rendered him indulgent to his Sister, who had forborn to satisfy her own Affection, till her Widowhood gave her permission. Thereupon he pardoned 'em both, consented to her second marriage, sent for her into England, so soon as he had secured her Dowry of 60000 Livres a year, and renewed his Alliance with Francis I. upon the conditions, that he had signed to Lewis XII.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Francis I.  
year 1517 FRANCIS I. was a Prince endowed with all those qualities that were proper to make a Great Monarch. He was mild and easy, liberal and magnificent in all things, and moreover, a comely handsome Person. He had a quick Wit, and a true Judgement, he was stout, and undaunted in danger, indefatigable in labour, and constant in ill fortune; he was a lover of Learning, and had a great value for Learned Men. With all these great Talents, it was to be thought that he would have carried on his Conquests far and near, had not his excessive compliances with his Mother, and his indulgence to his Mistresses, caused him to commit those faults, from which he had much ado to redeem himself. His extraordinary Expenses upon voluptuous Feasts, had so exhausted his Treasure, that he wanted Money for his necessary Exigencies. The Love of the Countess of Angoulême for the Constable of Bourbon, and her despite to find that he did not correspond with her Passion, carried her to those extremities, that he was forced to throw himself into the Spaniards Arms, to deliver himself from her persecutions. The choice which Francis I. made of the Brothers of his first Mistress, to command his Armies in Italy, occasioned the loss of all his Conquests; and the Intelligence which the Second held with the Emperor Charles V to make him her Protector against Diana of Poitiers, the Dauphin's Mistress, reduced him to make an ignominious Peace with the Spaniasds.  
The object of his first Amours, after his coming to the Crown, was the Countess of Château Brian. She was the Daughter of Phoebus de Grailly, a Prince of the House of Foix; a Person who had all the Graces both of Body and Mind, that could cause a Woman to be beloved. The Count of Château Brian sought her in Marriage, when she was but Twelve years of age, and obtained his desire, because he required no Portion with her. He had a Daughter by her very ●arly, and he had wanted nothing to complete his Happiness, could he but have kept the Trea●ure hid, which he concealed so long in a corner of Bretaigne; but noise and rumour is as inseparable from accomplished Beauties, as the shadow from substance. The King was easily overruled by his own Inclination, or by the Countess of Angoulême, his Mother, to permit the introducing those Ladies into Court, which never appeared there before, but upon great Ceremonies, and the Count of Chateau-Brian was invited to bring his Wife thither, who was to be the principal Ornament of it. He excused it however a long time, whether he were jealous, or whether he had any secret Prognostics within himself of what would befall him.  
His evasions were so courtly, and accompanied with so many probable circumstances, that they afforded no occasion to mistrust 'em of Artifice. He laid all the fault upon the morose humour of his Wife, which it was impossible to tame: but all his foresight could not prevent the destiny which the Stars had allotted him. An unexpected Affair, wherein his whole Estate was concerned, called him of necessity to Court, and forced him from Bretaigne, where he would have thought himself a happy Man to have spent all his days.  
Now, in regard he foresaw that his stay at Court would be of long continuance, he put his Invention upon the Rack, to find out an expedient which way to avoid the King's importunities, yet without depriving himself the liberty of sending for her, when he pleased himself. After he had weighed and considered several, he could not think of any better, then to cause two Jewels to be made of a fantastic fashion, yet so like as not to be distinguished one from the other, and to make use of one to let his Wife understand his intentions. One he kept himself, the other he gave the Countess, telling her withal that he was going to Court, whether he should be constrained to send for her; but that she should give credit to none of his Letters, if she did not find the Jewel, which he kept himself, enclosed within in it. The Countess never made many reflections upon her Husband's endocuments, for that having always lived above a hundred Leagues from Court, she was neither acquainted with the divertisements, nor the dangers of it. So that she only locked up the Jewel, and made a promise of Obedience to her Husband.  
The Count was most graciously received by the King, yet gently chiding him now and then for not having brought his Wife along with him; but having a great deal of Wit, he excused himself as long as he could, without making any promise. Afterwards he made as if he were willing to leave it to the Countess to do as she pleased herself, and wrote to her in the very Language that the Court prescribed him: but because she saw no Jewel, she still answered with some evasion or other.  
This collusion had continued much longer, had not the Count betrayed his own Secret. But he was governed altogether by one of his Valets de chambre, from whom he kept nothing concealed; now that Servant seeing him set such a value upon a Jewel that did not seem to be very rich, demanded the reason of it; because, said the Count, very imprudently, it contains the Secret, which way to make my Wife come to Court.  
The Valet de chambre did not presently apprehend the meaning of his Master's words, but after he had pondered 'em for some time in his Mind, he gave a shrewd conjecture at a good part of the Truth; and as he had been tempted several times to serve the Court to his Master's prejudice, he went to find out those that had sounded him, and told 'em, he could put into their hands the only infallible means to send for his Mistress, and to bring her up to Court, provided, he might be secured of a Livelihood, if the Count should turn him out of his Service. The bargain was made, and the Jewel was stolen, and delivered to an expert Artist, who made another so like it, that the Valet himself could not discern the one from the other. Thereupon the Counterfeit was intermixed among the rest of the King's Jewels, and the true one was kept, to fetch the Countess from her solitary Recess.  
This done, they told the Count, that they could never believe that he wrote sincerely to his Lady to come to Court, and upon his offer to make use of the most moving and tender expressions, and to deliver his Letter to any Messenger they should make choice of; he was taken at his word, and the Jewel was sealed up in the Letter. The Countess deluded by this Artifice, departed from Chateau-Brian, and made so much haste, that her Husband saw her, before he knew that she was sent for. But he was not so much surprised, however, at her arrival, as at the two Jewels which she showed him, and then he founnd that he was betrayed; but he never called to mind that he himself had been the occasion of it. He accused Heaven for the fault which himself had committed, and immediately departed, in order to his return into Bretain, for fear of being the witness of his own shame.  
The Countess thus abandoned by him, whom it most concerned to preserve her Honour, did no more than what m●ght well be expected from a Virtue that never was put to the Trial. She resisted for some time, but at length surrendered to the King's importunities. She had at first a very great Ascendant over the King, and she might have advanced her Husband to the chiefest Employments in the Kingdom, had he been of a humour to prefer Ambition before Honour; but he still refused what he suspected was was only offered him for his Wife's sake; nor would he ever hear talk of her under any pretence whatever.  
When the Countess saw, that her Husband withstood with so much obstinacy, whatever she did to advance his Fortune, she bethought herself of setting up her two Brothers. They were both as stout as she was Fair: and she caused the Government of Milanois to be given to Lautrec, who was the eldest; after the Constable of Bourbon was dismissed from his employment. And it was given out, that all was done to do justice to his Deserts, and to recompense him for Two and twenty wounds that he had received at the Battle of Ravanna, fight to save the Life of Gaston de Foix, his Cousin German Nevertheless, 'tis certain, that if the Countess of Chateau-Brian had not been his Sister, he had never obtained that employment, because the King knew him to be a Man fixed to his own Opinion, and one that would never submit to the Counsels of those who had more experience than himself. His negligence was the reason that Pope Leo X. lost the Duchy of Urbin, which made him repent of the Alliance he had made with France, and of which he made heavy complaints to the King. Trivultio also, who was one of the greatest Captains of his Age, because, that seeing Lautrec's faults, he took the liberty to school him, was turned out of Favour. The Countess of Chateau-Brian, caused him to be recalled at the solicitation of her Brother, and he came to Court to justify himself against several Crimes that were laid to his Chatge: but he was so ill received by the King, that it broke his Heart, and he died with Grief. Thus you see how this Prince, prepossessed by his Mistresses, entrusted the Command of his Armies with persons, unable to manage such great employments, and slighted those that were able to do him profitable Services.  
Lautrec therefore having done nothing considerable in Italy, returned to Court to marry the Heiress of Orval Teligny, whom he had left at Milan, to Command there in his room, by his good Conduct, repaired the disorders which his imprudence had caused, and the People appeared so well satisfied, that there was good reason to hope that all things would have gone well. But the King's Complacency for the Countess, spoiled all again. She persuaded Lesent her youngest Brother, made Bishop of Air, to quit his Cassock, and obtained the same employment for him, while Lautrec minded his own Domestic affairs in Guyenne.  
Lesent had all the virtues and all the vices which are commonly attributed to the Beruois his Countrymen. His courage was undaunted, and he never appeared with more a cheerful courage, then when he was to look the greatest dangers in the Face: but in exchange, he was highly presumptive, prodigal to excess, and these were two defects, the most contrary that could be to the Genius of the Italians, whom he was to govern. The first rendered him contemptible to the Nobility, and the second made him, for slight offences, confiscate the Estates of several wealthy Families, without any other motive then to maintain his Pomp and Luxury; so that he proved as unfortunate in the administration of the Government as his Brother. When the news came to Court, that the Pope had quitted his alliance with France, Lautrec was commanded to return to his Government. He made some scruple at first out of a secret misdoubting before hand, the ill success of his journey. He knew there was no Money in the Royal Treasury, and yet he required three hundred thousand Crowns, without which, he protested that the Duchy of Milan could not be preserved. But at length his Sister's tears, and the King's absolute orders she delivered to his hands, obliged him to take Post, after that Semblançay, the King's Treasurer had sworn to him, that he should no sooner arrive at Milan, but he should receive bills of Exchange for the Sum he demanded.  
But the ill omen that attended his arrival, was enough to have terrified a courage less undaunted than his. For a flash of Lightning set on Fire the Tower of the Castle of Milan, where the Powder lay, and blowing it up into the Air, in a solid bulk, overturned it after so odd a manner, that the top fell lowermost, and the Foundation stood uppermost. The rest of the structure was so shaken, that the French who were settled in Milan, and the Senators were constrained to keep watch, whole Nights together, till the Garrison was reinforced. The first Action then, wherewith Lautrec signalised his return, was the punishment of palavicini, the Pope's kinsman, accused of holding correspondence with the Spaniards, whose Head he caused to be cut from his Shoulders, and gave the confiscation of his Estate, amounting to 20000 Crowns a year, to his Brother Leseut, who was then called the Marshal de Foix, which only served to incense the most considerable Families of Milan against him, and to render his Government more odious.  
But notwithstanding the aversion of the Nobility and the People to the French, Lautrec might have preserved the strong holds within his Government, could he but have retained the Swisseses, that were the chiefest strength of his Infantry, but not being able to pay 'em what was their due, the Cardinal of Zion found a way to debauch 'em, by supplying 'em with the same Sum. Lautrec foresaw this inconvenience, and might have avoided it, had the Court of France been as good as their word. But the 300000 Crowns which he was to have received at his arrival at Milan, not being sent, and the Contributions which he drew from the Country not sufficeing for his Men, he was reduced to lose the flower of his Infantry, for want of five and twenty thousand Crowns.  
The King relied upon his Mother for the sending of Money into Italy. But she, who saw that her Son began to do at every Day more than other upon the Countess of Chasteau-Brian, was afraid lest she should supplant her in what concerned the Principal Government of affairs. And perhaps she might have been provoked to take some unhappy resolution against the Countess, if Bonnivet had not stopped her, by telling her that an unseasonable violence, would gather augment, then cure the King's passion. And that consideration made her have recourse to destroy the credit of that Female favourite. To that purpose she made choice of a way that seemed less hazardous, though most prejudicial to the Crown; which was to render her Brother odious, by ruining the success of their endeavours for the defence of the Milanois, committed to their care. This she thought an infallible way, since the King's aversion, which they would incur by the loss of that Duchy, the fairest in Christendom, would not fail to reflect upon their Loyalty, who had procured 'em the Government of it.  
With this design, the Countess of Angoulême, the same Day that Lautrec departed from Paris, paid away the Money that was designed him to another use; under pretence of Pensions and other gifts, charged upon the five greater Farms, And when Semblancy endeavoured to oppose it, she delivered him an Acquittance, and told him that the Authority which Nature had given her over her Son, was enough to secure a Treasurer from being called to any account. Semblancy was either so credulous or so timorous, that he suffered the Princess to carry away the Money, and thought it a sufficient dispensation, for the Oaths that he had sworn to Lautrec; so ingenious a Man is to deceive himself, when he is afraid of losing his employment.  
What the Countess of Angoulême had foreseen, fell out: for the Soldiers that were in Milanois disbanded for want of their pay. Lautres, after he had lost the principal strong holds within his Government, returned into France with two of his Domestic Servants only, and passed in disguise through the Cantons of the Swisseses. The King refused at first to see him, nor would he admit him into his presence, till the Countess of Bourbon had assured him, that he had wherewithal fully to justify himself, and that he came to discover those secrets, which were of great importance for His Majesty to understand. Thereupon he was introduced into a full Council, where no less haughty than ever, he could not forbear complaining of the King's frowning upon him. Francis I. made answer, that a Man, who had lost in one Campagne, all the Conquests that he had won in Italy, deserved no other usage; to which Lautrec replied, without seeming to be any way concerned, that it was an easy thing to know, who was the cause of all the mischief.  
The King imagining that he would lay the blame upon him, ased him after a scornful manner, and as it were to upbraid him, whither he had not received the 400000 Crowns, that were sent him by the way of Genoa? To which Lautrec replied, that indeed he had received Letters of advice, that Money should be sent him, but that he had never seen a Farthing. At those words the King stood like one in an amaze, at what time, Lautrec unwilling to lose the opportunity to inform him of the Truth, added with a resolute utterance, that no way betokened guilt, that he had often writ to His Majesty, that his Infantry, for the most part composed of Soldiers altogether mercenary, would infallibly Desert, if they were not paid by such a time; that the French Cavalry, Loyal and Constant beyond expression, had served Eighteen Months without receiving so much as one Muster, but that the Swisseses, who were no Subjects of France, did not think themselves bound to follow their example● that he lead the remainder of his Army into the territory of the Firm-land, but that the Venetians grew weary of supplying 'em, and had sent him word by the Proveditor Gritti, that they were no more obliged to preserve Milanoise for the French, than the most Christian King who took no care of it. Upon which he dislodged without sounding so much as a Trumpet, lest they should have stopped him, and delivered him up to the Enemy, in hopes of making their Peace.  
By this time the King being recovered from his astonishment, interrupted Lautrec, telling him that he could not but acknowledge the receipt of the 3OOOOO Crowns, that Semblançay had undertaken in his presence to pay him at Milan. To which Lautrec replied, that he had not received a doit either of the one or the t'other Sum; which put the King into a passion no less just, than it was violent. Semblançay was sent for, while the King in the mean while seeking to pick a quarrel with Lautrec, told him after an insulting manner, that Colonna and Pescara, were no better assisted with Men and Money than he, yet they had found a way to drive him before 'em; and therefore why could not he find a way to defend himself without Money which was the easier thing of the two. Lautrec answered very modestly, that to make the comparison true, 'twas requisite, that the Milaneses should have no more kindness for one party then another. Which might so fall out under the Reign of Lewis XII. when the French being exactly paid, lived civility and peaceably among 'em. But the Army being grown licentious for want of pay, the Italians had conceived such a hatred of 'em, that was only to be satisfied by opening their Bellies, and tearing out their Hearts, as had happened in Navarr and other places. Immediately upon these words, Semblançay came into the Council Room; but the King instead of calling him Father as he was wont to do, looked askew upon him, and asked him why he had not paid Lautrec the 300000 Crowns which he had so solemnly promised. Semblançay, who knew not the danger he was in, answered with that Ingenuity which was natural to him, that the same Day the Assignations for Milanois were drawn up, His Majesty's Mother came to the Treasury, and demanded to be paid for all that was due to her, till that very time, as well for Pensions and Gratifications, as for the Duchy of Valois, Tourcine, and Anjou, of which she was the Donee: that he represented to her, that by the paying away so great a Sum all at a time, the Royal Treasury would be exhausted, and the Funds appointed for the Duchy of Milan be delivered another way, contrary to what the King had ordered that Morning in her hearing, and to which she had consented; yet the Princess continued obstinate in her pretensions, and threatened to ruin him, if he did not let her have what she demanded: and whereas he declared to her, that it was as much as his head was worth, if Lautrec did not find the Money ready upon his arrival at Milan, she replied, that she had credit enough with the King to secure him from any prosecution; and that if he should be called to an account for the payment of the Money another way, that was designed for Italy, he should say, that 'twas done by her Order. Thereupon the King, to clear the dispute, sent for his Mother, and Semblançay repeated in her hearing, what he had said; which put her into such a rage, that the respect which she owed to her Son, could not restrain her from giving the Treasurer the lie, and demanding justice of the King, against a hair brained Fellow, that went about to make her guilty of High Treason. But in regard, they had the Acquittances which she left in the Treasury to justify her receit of the Money designed for Lautrec, she confessed that she demanded the payment of her Pensions, but she stood it out, that Semblançay when he gave her the Money, never told her that it was ordered for Milan. She denied all the rest that Semblançay had said, and demanded his Imprisonment with so much heat, that the King was forced to cause him to be arrested in the Antichamber.  
The business being thus cleared up, it appeared that Lautrec was Innocent, and all the blame fell upon Semblançay; upon which, the Chancellor du Prat, a Creature of the Countesses, the Precedent Gentil, and certain Counsellor who were the Chancellor's Friends, being appointed to try the Treasurer condemned him to Death, and he was publicly Executed. But the King never recovered the places which he lost in Italy; the Marshal de Foix also, who was left in Cr●mona to defend that City, surrendered it up to Colonna upon very easy term. These were the fatal effects which the jealousy of the King's mother, lest she should be supplanted by the King's Mistress produced. But she did a far more considerable prejudice to France, by her transports against the Constable of Bourbon; for she constrained him to departed the Kingdom, and treat with the Enemies of the State; she completed the ruin of the King's affairs in Italy, and was the principal cause of the King's being taken Prisoner. The story was thus.  
Charles of Bourbon, Constable of France, was the second of Three Sons of Gilbert Montpensier, and Clarice Gonzaga; that is to say, he descended from the only branch of Bourbon, that was unfortunate. His Father had lost his Life and reputation in the Kingdom of Naples, where Charles the VIII. had left him Viceroy. His eldest Brother expired for grief upon his Father's Tomb, and the youngest was slain at the Battle of Marignon. As for himself, he appeared at Court toward the end of the Reign of Lewis XII. when Claudia of France was married. The tournament matches, and the divertisements at that time, gave him an opportunity to signalise his Strength and Activity; but it was his misfortune, in despite of himself, to be the object of the Countess of Angoulême● affection, who could not be insensible of the rare endowments that rendered him so worthy to be beloved.  
He was extremely Beautiful, Discreet, Liberal and Valiant: nor did his frank humour, which came near that of the ancient Gauls, hinder him from being successful in all manner of Intrigues. For though he seemed to be very open, yet he governed himself so well in all Negotiations, and managed what he had to say with so much art, that he tired the patience of the most refined Politicians. The sweetness of his manners had acquired him the Friendship of the French, and the exact discipline which he kept among his Soldiers, produced him the esteem of his own Enemies. It seemed as if fortune had been unavoidably bound to follow him, because that eversince he bore Arms, the French had been always victorious wherever he was, and were vanquished wherever he was not. He was beholding only to his own deserts for the dignity of Constable, and it may be said, that he wanted nothing to accomplish him for the Hero of his Age, but a little more complacency for the person that loved him; or a little less resentment of the injury she did him, when she saw herself slighted.  
That haughty Princess made no opposition, either to the growth or progress of her passion, whither she were weary of living a Widow, or that she was unwilling, in changing her condition, to be forced to leave France, where she was assured of being in great credit, when her Son, the presumptive Heir to the Crown, should come to Reign. But this Love was not reciprocal; whither it were that the Count of Montpensier (for so was the Constable called at first) could not find in his Heart to marry a Woman that had a Son almost as old as himself; or whether it were, that he felt at the bottom of his Heart, a secret antipathy against her; or lastly, that he feared to create a jealousy in him, whose Father in law he was to be Slander invented a fourth reason, which could not be true, because that Montpensier, had not as yet that ill opinion of the Countess' vitue, as he afterwards gave out, when she had deprived him of the principal function of his employment. However, because he had not a Revenue sufficient to support the lustre of his Birth, and for that he was not of a humour to neglect any thing that he could lawfully come by, though his probity and his continency were exemplary in the age wherein he lived, he corresponded with the Countess' affection in such a manner, that she should not despair of rendering him sensible of her kindness, though she well perceived him so far from being moved, that still his Heart enjoyed its primitive liberty, nor to be enslaved by all her Charms.  
With this design she procured him the Command of the Army in Guyenne, where he proved fortunate; and that of the Army in Italy which he refused, out of a secret misdoubt of the little satisfaction he should purchase by it. The misfortune which always accompanied the person who had that employment in his room, manifested his judgement, and augmented his reputation. The Countess of Angouleme, who saw that all Men applauded the care which he took of his Fortune, would have advanced him at the same time to the chief dignity of the Sword, had he not been constrained out of an unavoidable necessity to espouse those interests, which were opposite to those of his Benefactrice.  
When the Count of Angoulême had married Madam Claudia, the Countess his Mother began to take her place in the Council, and quarrelled with the Duchess of Beaujen, who till then had the chief management of affairs, and had acquitted herself with extraordinary reputation. She had ●●ol●d judgement, accompanied with a profound penetration: and it may be said, that she deserved all the encomiums that were bestowed upon her: but her noble qualities were subject to two defects. She lived wrapped up with a continual admiration of her own person; and universally scorned all other Ladies, whatever their rank or merits were. Nor was she thus haughty without good grounds; for if there were any who equalled her in Beauty, there were none that came near her for strength and delicacy of Wit. These happy talents had obtained her the regency during the minority of Charles VIII. to the Exclusion of the Prince of the blood, who was afterwards Lewis XII. Tho' she had married no other than a Younger Brother of the House of Bourbon, the King, her Father, not deeming it convenient for reasons of State, to bestow her better, she had reduced the factious to their duty; she had supported the Royal Authority, preserved the Kingdom in peace at home, and reunited Bretaign to the Crown. The King her Brother therefore, being arrived at Years of Majority, and moved with the services she had do●e n●m, co●ti nued her in the prin cipal management of affairs; and Lewis XII. for the same reason, thought it not convenient for him to remove her. She was also in Council when the Countess of Angoulême was admitted. Lewis XII. perceiving these two Princesses embroiled, and not being able to reconcile 'em, chose rather to declare for the Mother of his Sod in law, then for his Sister in Law. Which partial giving the precedency to the Countess of Angoulême, enraged the Duchess of Beaujeu beyond Imagination, and made her greedily embrace the opportunity of revenge, which offered itself soon after. Her Husband died after he had reaped the succession of Buurbon, and left her but one Daughter named Susanna, who was afterwards the Original of the greatest suit that ever France beheld for several Ages.  
The Count of Montpensier, who was become the eldest of the House of Bourbon, pretended to the whole Estate, by virtue of a kind of Salic Law, as the Civilians term it, or rather by virtue of an ancient entail, renewed from time to time, in both the Houses of Bourbon, which invested in the succession to their Inheritances, the most remote Males, to the prejudice of the nearest Females. The Princess Susanna, on the otherside, grounded her right upon Common Law, and upon the Law of the Kingdom, which never excluded the Daughters of the most Illustrious Houses, any more than the Daughters of the meanest Families, from the Inheritances of their Fathers, when they had no Brothers.  
Now the only way to avoid the Suit, was to marry both Parties together, and the Duchess of Beaujeu, who had discovered the Countess of Angouléme's intention, thought there was no better expedient to cross the Match, then by insinuating into Monpensier, by trusty Persons, that it belonged to him as his Right, to marry the Princess of Bourbon. The Artifice of this Proposal consisted in this, That the Duchess of Beauj●u, was certain of securing by that means Monpens●er to herself, and bringing him off from her enemy; seeing that he who had so long withstood the charms of the Countess of Angouléme, when he was unmarried, would the more easily resist 'em, after he had married the Princess of B urbon.  
Monpensier never hesitated upon a Proposal that was doubly to his advantage. He knew well, that though the Estate of the House of Bourbon were adjudged to him by Decree, yet he should be liable to perpetual trouble, not only because the Duchess of Beaujeu's Portion, Jointure, and Right of Eldership were very considerable; Lewis XI. not having left any thing omitted in his Daughter's Contract, to make the Articles as advantageous as could be; but because the Princess had expended all the Profits of her Regency, in paying the Debts of the House of Bourbon, which amounted to vast Sums, and which she was to be reimbursed, before she could be put out of possession.  
Monpensier convinced by these Reasons sued to the King for leave to court Mademoiselle de Bourb●n, and to be so favourable, as to demand her for him. The King also thought this Match so necessary, that he caused it to be concluded in three days. His Majesty, the Princes, the Officers of the Crown, and fifteen Bishops Signed the Contract. But the Learned Lawyers who had drawn it up, forgot one Formality, of which the Chancellor du Prat made his advantage afterwards, convincing 'em of ignorance, in things which they had been studying all their life time. The Duchess of Beaujeu had given 'em leave to insert the most favourable clauses that could be for Monpensier; and they thought they had secured his Interests, and stretched 'em as far as humane Prudence could have done, by making the married Couple to exchange a mutual Deed of Gift to each other, of all their Lands, Rights and Pretensions of what nature soever. Nevertheless, they never minded that the Bride wanted two or three Months of being of Age to engage her Estates; and that for a supply of that defect, as to what regarded the Civil executions; they were, as it behoved, 'em, to obtain a Sentence. This neglect was afterwards laid to their charge; but they excused themselves, by saying, that they foresaw the difficulty, but that they did not mind it, because, that in Marriages contracted in France, the King's Presence was a Salvo for the defects of all Conditions, as the Bishop's Presence made good all Ecclesiastical Contracts.  
The Countess of Angoulên●e was so much the more incensed at these precipitated Nuptials, because she had so much the less time to cross 'em: and she made extraordinary efforts upon herself to curh her Passion. But when she thought she had reason sufficient to exchange her Love for Hatred, she made choice of the Duke of Alencon, the First Prince of the Blood, to be the instrument of her Revenge, believing him fit enough to second her designs, because he was particularly concerned in the Affair; Mademoiselle de Bourbon having been promised him before Monpensier sought her in Marriage. So that in point of Honour, with which the Court of France was at that time highly prepossessed, he was to look upon Mompensier, as one that had injured him in the most sensible part, by marrying his affianced Lady, before he had asked whether he persisted in his design to espouse her.  
Tho' these Reasons, upon which the Countess built her hopes, had a foundation solid enough, yet they produced not that effect which she expected. For besides that the Duke of Alencon was not a person to engage in a Quarrel with Mompensier, he was overjoyed at the Match, which others thought it behoved him to be offended at. In a word, after he had been designed to Mademoiselle de Bourbon, while she was yet in her Cradle, he had been in love with Mademoiselle de Angouleme, the Countess' Daughter; thó he durst not discover his Passion, for fear of provoking the Princes of Bourbon, who were extremely nice in the punctilios of Honour, and all were very stout. But the obstacle being removed, he thought of seeking Mademoiselle d' Angouleme in marriage, when her Mother came and offered her to him. He accepted the proffer with joy, and promised whatever she would have him to undertake to the prejudice of Monpensier: foreseeing, that otherwise the Countess would never have made use of all the Authority which Nature and Law had given her over her Daughter, to persuade her to a Match, against which, she had always testified a reluctancy.  
But after the Nuptials were over, the Duke of Alencon did not think it so proper to adventure his Person to content his Mother-in-law; and by good luck, which he ne'er expected, he was never solicited to accomplsh his promise. For the Countess, who had not well sounded her Thoughts, when she exacted that condition, was not long before she perceived, that she had still a kindness for Mompensier, and that she was deceived in taking the rancour, under which it lay concealed, for the quenching of her Passion. Her inclination was not exempt from the destiny common to violent things, that redouble their efforts, proportionably to the resistance which they meet with, seeing that she loved Mompensier so much the more vehemently, by how much the less she saw herself in a condition to be beloved. So that she observed no bounds in reference to the Favours which lay in her power to procure him; and the first thing that she demanded for him of her Son, so soon as he came to the Crown, was the Constables Sword. The new King, altogether young, and without experience, made some scruple at it, and excused himself, by reason of the danger of committing all the Forces of the Kingdom into the hands of a Prince, who would soon be able to overturn it, if his Ambition were answerable to his Birth and Deserts. But the importunities of the Countess, and the ascendant she had over her Son, prevailed above his Reason. And that which was most extravagant in this conjuncture, was, that the King suffered himself to be overruled, when his Mother told him, that if he intended to merit not only the esteem, but the admiration of his new Subjects, it was of great importance to him, to let 'em see, that he had neither the Pusillanimity, nor the want of Courage of his four Predecessors, that durst not trust the Sword in the hands of the Princes of the Blood, for fear they should afterwards stand in awe of 'em.  
Monpensier was no sooner Constable, but he repent his being raised to that Dignity. His Wife was brought to bed of a Daughter; and the King did him the Honour to go to Chantilly, and be Godfather to his Child He was received by five hundred Gentlemen, holding by Fealty of the House of Bourbon, clad in blue Velvet, with Gold Chains about their Necks consisting of there rows, and rarely well horsed. But this superfluity was far exceeded by the Luxury of Feasting, Tournaments, Balls and Masquerades; insomuch, that the King returned home stimulated with jealousy, as if the Constable had pretended to dispute the point of Magnificence with him.  
This his Majesty's displeasure broke forth in his march to Valenciennes, where the Duke of Alencon most earnestly desired his Mother-in-law, to procure the Command of the Vanguard for him, threatening to leave the Army if he did not obtain it: for, that being the First Prince of the Blood, he could no longer obey a second, without prejudice to his Quality, and redring himself contemptible to the French, of whom he might be one day Master before the Constable.  
His reason was easily answered; but he was otherwise so unfortunate, that he might well deserve to have his real discontents appeased by a shadow of Honour that was not to last above four or five hours. His Wife, who was the most witty Woman of her Age, could not find in her heart to love him, as well for his ill Qualities, both of Body and Mind, as for that she was constrained to marry him, after she had been so ambitious as to pretend to the Prince of Spain.  
This same disagreement between Man and Wife, with which the Countess of Angoulême was well acquainted, moyed her so much the more, because she had been the occasion of it. Therefore to make amends for the mischief she had done, as much as lay within her Power, she begged of the King to let his Brother-in-law lead the Vanguard; which pretention of the Countess was grounded upon two Reasons: One, because the Constable would not be much concerned at it, the King not being resolved to give battle; and the Other, for that the Duke of Alencon, would have no more than the name of Chieftain, all Orders being to be given out by the Marshal de Chatillon, who served under him with the Title of Lieutenant-General. But she was deceived in the first of her conjectures. For the Constable was as much concerned, that they should go about to set up another, to execute the most noble function of his Office, as if they had taken the Sword from him: and then it was, that in the first transports of his resentment, he let fall some words that reflected upon the Honour of the Countess of Angoulême. So many persons heard 'em, that the Countess had immediate notice of what was said, and in regard her Continency was that of which she principally boasted, though she had been a Widow Seventeen Years, she could not bear that the person whom she loved above all the World, should tax her of a criminal weakness, without seeking all the ways to hate him, that Reason and Revenge could infuse into her. But whither it were that the affront she had received was not so violent, as her despite to see her Lover espouse another person: or whither it were, that all things which ought to have abated her Love, contributed to augment it, she could not forbear loving the Constable, notwithstanding his ingratitude; in like manner, as the seeing him married could not stifle her passion before; it so falling out in Love, as upon the Sea, that sometimes we discern some rays of hope through the most gloomy and dismal Tempests.  
In May 1522. The Constable's Wife died in Childbed, leaving no Children behind her. Of which the Chancellor du Prat being informed, immediately went to the Countess of Angouleme with a Congratulation, that Heaven had now opened her a way to enforce the Constable to espouse her Interest, since he refused to do it out of his own inclination. Then he told her, that she was the next Heiress to the Deceased, in regard the Constable's Lady was the Daughter of Peter of Bourbon, and the Countess was the Daughter of that Duke's Sister. Whence he concluded, that he was in hopes to invest the succession in her, by finding a flaw in the Constable's Contract of Marriage, and the ancient entail of the House of Bourbon.  
That which induced the Chancellor to act in this manner, was not so much his desire to please the Countess, though he let slip no opportunity to do it, as to revenge himself upon the Constable for refusing him the accommodation of a piece of Land, that lay near his House of Verrieres, where he was born, in Auvergne. However the Countess returned him thanks, as much as if she had been beholding to him for the felicity which she expected all the remainder of her Life. The Chancellor undertook to furnish her with such Memoirs, as were requisite for drawing up the process. But the Countess before she began, resolved to make her last trial upon the Constable's inclinations. And she grounded her resolutions upon this, that she knew the Constable naturally loved Wealth, and a thrifty manner of expense; though he were, magnificent upon occasions that required Pomp and splendour; and for that having married to get an Estate, he might be induced to a second Wedlock, to preserve his Riches. To this purpose she employed the Admiral de Bonnivet: But she knew not that he was the most improper person she could have made choice of, to carry on her design with success, tho' he had all the qualities requisite, most delicately to negotiate an affair of that nature. There were therefore two reasons, which ought to have obliged the Countess to have cast her Eye upon some other person, had she known so much. The one was, that he was in love with the Duchess of Alencon, her Daughter, and that the virtue of that Princess, instead of vanquishing his passion, by putting him quite out of all hope had caused him to commit those follies, which in truth had no success, but for which, neither the excess of his Love, nor the quality of a favourite, aught to have procured a pardon, had not the King been more kind to him, than he was just to his Sister. So that the King's indulgence to him had covered his passion, but had not extinguished it; and in regard he was perfectly acquainted with the delicacy of the Constable, he well foresaw, that if that Prince married the Countess, he would absolutely forbid him the Duchess of Alençon's company. The other reason was, that Bonnivet, as he was the King's favourite, laboured nothing more than the Constable's disgrace, that he might afterwards have the command of the Armies. So that 'twas no business of his to employ his cares in advancing the reputation of that Prince, and fixing him at Court, by assisting him to Marry the King's Mother. But the Countess who was ignorant of all these circumstances, opened her Heart to Bonnivet, with an entire confidence, concealing nothing from him of her most secret thoughts.  
Nevertheless it was not the perfidiousness of the Negotiator, that was the principal obstacle to her design; for that another, more faithful, might have had no better success. Besides, that the Constable was so convinced of the Justice of his cause, that he did but laugh at whatever they said. On the otherside, the Queen had signified to him her wishes, that he would Marry Renê of France, her Sister. A Princess that was Mistress of all the advantages of a sublime Wit, for want of the graces of her body, and whose Estate was very large, in regard, a third part of the Free lands of the House of Bretaigne, belonged to her. The Constable therefore prepossessed with those hopes, sent away Bonnivet with a flat denial; so that the Countess of Ang●ulême, who could not dive into the reason, gave the Chancellor leave to set the Suit on foot in her name, and try her title to the succession of Bourbon.  
Monthelon, a famous advocate, pleaded the Constable's cause, with so much strength of argument, that the King thought him worthy to be keeper of the Seals. Poyet spoke for the Countefs of Angoulême, and though his Plea were neither so strong nor so solid as the former, yet he dazzled the greatest part of the Judges; whither they were propossessed by the Chancellor, who had furnished that Advocate with imaginary Nullities, or whither they were afraid of offending the head of the Law by not favouring the party for whom they saw him solicit with so much heat; or whither he had promised to reimburse 'em the twelve hundred Crowns, which they had paid for their places.  
Nor had they delayed to pronounce sentence, but at the solicitation of the Countess of Angouléme, who was willing to gain time, to make her last efforts upon the Constable, to persuade him to marry her. She laid before him, by the friends she had in Parliament, that his case was deplorable, and that he would make himself the poorest Prince in Europe. But those two considerations did but augment his hatred of her, and perhaps it was but only the more to incense her, that he begged leave of the King to court Reué, of France, his Sister in law.  
The denial which His Majesty gave him, could not be more civil than it was; and it may be said, that if Francis I. did second his Mother's desires, as unjust as they were, he did it in such a manner, that nothing could be imputed to him; since it looked, as if the obstacle proceeded wholly from the Princess René, who, as she said, could not find in her Heart to marry a Man, from whom they were going to take away his Estate. The Constable however dissembled his resentment, and for some time was in such a quandary, as made the Countess believe, it would not be amiss to give him another Attack. To that purpose she sent Bonnivet to build upon the Land, that went by his name, a stately Castle, in a place so near to Chastelraut, which belonged to the Constable, that it commanded it. Bonnivet most joyfully obeyed, and the Constable afterwards acknowledged, that he never was so much concerned at any thing, as at the boldness of that Favourite, who to brave him, had raised a kind of Citadel upon a sief that held of himself. So that the Constable not being able to brook so many affronts, bend an Ear to the proposals which the Emperor made him by Adrian de Croy, Count of Rieux, first Gentleman of his Chamber, to embrace his party. That same Envoy crossed all France, in the disguise of a Countryman, and arrived by Night at Chantilli, where he was lodged in an apartment adjoining to the Constable's, and where he concluded the Treaty which afterwards proved so pernicious to France.  
But in regard, that Rieuxes power was only expressed in general terms, and for that the Constable had reason to fear lest the Emperor should disown his Minister, he sent privately into Spain, La Mothe des noyer's, to procure a ratification of the Treaty from the Emperor. While the Constable stayed for the return of his Agent, the Dewager of Bourbon, instigated by her hatred of the Countess os Angouléme, and her grief to see her Son in law, despoiled of his Fortune, came to him at Chantilli, and told him that she was come to do him the Office of a real Mother, by discovering to him an infallible way to recover the lost condition of his affairs. Which Consisted in this, that Lewis XI. when he married his Daughter to the youngest Son of the Duke of Bourbon, had contracted by an instrument drawn up in due form, though it lay concealed, that in case the Princess survived her Brother in law and her Husband, and had no Children, she should inherit all their Lands. Whence it followed, that if the Countess of Angoulême agreed to that Act, she must deprive herself of the succession to which she pretended; or if she disputed it, she would be no less disappointed, since she had no way to withstand it, but by the entail of the House of Bourbon, which would restore the Constable to all his rights. The Dowager added, and made it appear by authentic papers, which she delivered into the Constable's hands, that she had disengaged with her own Money the greatest part of the Lands belonging to the House of Bourbon, and that the rest were so mortgaged for her Dowry, and for performance of Covenants, that though the succession were adjudged to the Countess of Angoulême, she would be constrained to quit it, as being more burdensome than profitable, by reason of the vast Sums which she must pay before she could enjoy it. The same Dowager after that, made a deed of gift to her Son in law of all her Estate, without any distinction or reservation, investing him in all her rights.  
The Constable was so much the more surprised at the generosity of his Mother in law, because it was a thing that he so little expected. However, he still persisted in his design of performing his Treaty with the Emperor; whither it were that he foresaw that his Adversaries, should they be deprived of the succession by a contrary sentence, would make use of the King's Authority, to preserve themselves in it: or that he thought himself so guilty, that he could not avoid Death if what he had concluded with the Count of Rieux, should come to be known. After La Mothe had brought him back the ratification from Charles V he hide it under ground in a little Box at the Root of a Tree, and sent away the greatest part of his Friends under pretence of accompanying the King beyond the Alps; but his project did not succeed. For Matignon and d'Argouges, going to confession at Easter, discovered to the Curate of their Country, that they had been tampering in a Conspiracy against the King; the Curate enjoined 'em to reveal it to the King, and to lead 'em the way; immediately took Horse himself to inform Brez●, the grand Seneschal of Normandy, what the Gentlemen had confessed. Who giving themselves over for lost, took post, and overtaking the King at St. Pierre le Moutier, threw themselves at his Feet, and obtained their pardon, by giving an exact Account upon Oath of the Constable's Negotiation with the Emperor.  
The King was advised to arrest the Constable, and confine him to a place of security, till his return; but he chose rather to reclaim him by gentle means. To that purpose he gave him a visit at Moulins, where he feigned himself Sick, not so much out of a design to deceive His Majesty, as to discover his real sentiments; the horror of his crime, having already shaken him to that degree, that he resolved to perform nothing of the Treaty concluded with the Emperor, provided the process against him, might be suspended.  
'Tis presumed, the King would have given him that satisfaction, had he known his thoughts; but he was of opinion, he had gone far enough in telling him, after he had commanded all the company to withdraw, that he was fully informed of his Negotiation with the Count of Rieux, and the reason of La Mothe des Noyers's going into Spain; that they were two great crimes, however that he made no doubt, but that the Constable was instigated to do what he did, out of a despite of which he would repent so soon as he knew what he would do for him. The King added, by way of explanation, that he could not hinder his Mother from prosecuting her suit, but withal he offered him to give him all requisite security, for the restitution of whatever should be taken from him by the decree.  
But this proposal, as generous as it was, did not please the Constable for two reasons. First, because it gave the Countess of Angoulême all the advantage she could pretend to over him: and next, because there was no judicial means by which he could be restored during the Life of that Princess, without offending her; and it was a base thing to be still wishing for her Death; till when, he must remain deprived of all his Estate. Nevertheless he confessed to the King what he was no longer in a condition to deny, and applauded the rare impartiality of his Majesty, who rather chose to preserve a second Prince of the Blood, then to take the advantage of an inheritance, wherein himself was concerned. With that the King believing he had won him, embraced him, swore to him, that he had buried his crime in Oblivion, desired him to mind the recovery of his Health, and told him that he was going to Lion, where his presence was necessary to hasten away his Men, and that he would stay for him there. The Constable promised him to come in his Litter, and to that purpose was actually upon the Road. But at Palisse, he received advice, that the Parliament of Paris, at the secret solicitations of the Chancellor, had ordered that all the Estate of the House of Bourbon should be sequestered, till the suit was fully decided.  
The Constable being by this means disabled to do any farther service, feigned that his distemper increased upon him, insomuch that he could not endure the easy motion of the Litter, and addressing himself to Vary, who as he verily believed, was left with him as a Spy, under pretence of bearing him company, conjured him to go to the King, and let him know the weakness of his condition. Varry durst not refuse what he requested, for fear of rendering himself suspected to the Constable; but so soon as he was out of sight, the Constable returned to Chantilli, from whence he dispatched the Bishop of Auntun to the Court, with Assurances, written and signed with his own hand, that if they would cancel the decree of Parliament, and grant him a Pardon in due form, for what he had done against the State, he would for the future serve the King with the same fidelity, as he had done before the King's Mother threw him into despair. But before Vary and the Bishops were arrived at Lion, the Countess being informed by her Emissaries about the Constable, that he was returned to Chantilli, and mistrusting that it was in order either to make his escape, or begin a Civil War, pressed so hard upon the King, that he sent the Bastard of Savoy, and Marshal Chabanes, with four hundred Lances, and four thousand Foot, to Besiege him in Chantilli, and seize upon his person.  
The Bastard and the Marshal advanced with so much haste that they met the Bishop of Autun at la Pacaudiere, year 1525 which is not above two Leagues from Palisse, and took him Prisoner: but one of his Servants escaping, road full speed to inform the Constable of what had befallen his Master. Who judging by the seizure of the Bishop, that there was no longer any trusting to the Court, immediately departed with the small train he had, and marched all Night to get to Herman, a place in Upper Auvergne, of which Henry Arnauld, a Gentleman of his Family was Governor. He arrived there by break of Day, September 8, 1525, and caused his Train to rest themselves. And when his own People were fast a Sleep, he went himself and waked Pomperan, and Montaignac d' Estansannes, and told 'em he was going into Burgundy, and wanted one of 'em to accompany him in his flight, and the other to favour and countenance it. Pomperan, was beholding to him for his Life, after he had killed in a Duel Amboise Chisay, the most famous gallant in the Court: he made his escape by the Constable's assistance, and the safe Convoy that he gave him, and afterwards obtained his Pardon.  
Estansannes was a near Confident of the Constables, nor did any thing pass between him and the Dowager, or any Foreigners, but what was either written or signed with his hand: and in regard, it was more dangerous to stay with the Train, then to follow the Constable, the dispute between those two Gentlemen was, which of the two should remain behind, and chance of lot decided the business, in favour of Estansannes. He was vigorous and capable of enduring a long fatigue, though he were near Fourscore Years of Age. He had all along opposed the Constable's design, accusing lafoy Moth des noyer's, and the Bishop of Autumn for having seduced him to his prejudice. Nor did he serve him but very unwillingly in a Negotiation, the unlucky consequences of which he foresaw. He was nevertheless over persuaded to counterfeit himself to be the Constable, and to lie in his Bed till two hours before Day; at what time he departed from Herman by Torchlight, clad in his Master's , and mounted upon his Horse, at the head of his retinue. He continued to act this part, till finding that Daylight would discover him, he stopped, and told his Companions with Tears in his Eyes, ●at the Constable was gone, excusing him to 'em as well as he could, and then taking his leave of 'em. After that, he road on alone by himself, and taking through all the by ways, got to the Castle of Puyguillon, in Bourbonnois, where he stayed fifteen Days, and shaving his Beard which he wore as long as his Hair, crossed the Country of Burgundy▪ disguised in the habit of a Priest; from whence the Constable sent for him to give him the Government of the Castle of Milan.  
The Constable had taken the same Road, accompanied by Pomperan, without any other precaution but what Arnauld gave him, which was to Travel with his Horses should the wrong way. Which advice cost Arnauld dear; for the Bastard of Savoy, and Chabanes, who had in vain pursued the Constable, being informed of it, went to the Farrier, who should the Horses, constrained him to confess the truth, road away to Arnauld's House, because he had followed the Constable, and plundered it. In the mean time, the Constable got without any stop to Dole, from whence he passed into Italy, and visited the Marquis of Mantua. I shall not here repeat the unhappy consequences of his revolt, which are more proper for a general History, than the Amours of the Countess of Angoulême. Who after she had occasioned the taking of her Son Prisoner, out of the jealousy of her Ambition, contributed not a little to the Tragical end of his Mistress.  
The Countess of Chasteau-Brian, finding herself exposed to the hatred of that Princess, who was left Rege●● in the King's absence, knew not where to shelter herself. The eldest of her Brothers was confined in Guyenne. The Second was slain at the Battle of Paula. And the Third had lost his Liberty and Life in the recovery of Navarr. So that finding there was no retiring for her among her own Friends, she was forced to return home to Chasteau-Brian. Her Husband received her, though after a very odd manner; yet so as to put her in hopes that she might appease him in time.  
He refused to see her, and shut her up in a Chamber, which seemed to be designed for Penance, as being hung all with Mourning. He gave his Daughter, by this time Seventeen Years of Age, leave to Eat with her; nor could he forbear looking upon her sometimes after Dinner, from a place where she could not see him; and comparing the growing Beauty of the one, with that of the other, which was in the height of its perfection. This usage lasted not above six Weeks, because the Daughter lived no longer: and now the Count, not having any longer before his Eyes, the only beloved object that Daily begged the tother's Pardon, thought of nothing more but his Revenge. To which purpose, he entered his Wife's Chamber with Six Men in disguise, and two Surgeons, who opened the Veins in her Feet and Legs, and so left her to Bleed to Death. The King upon his return was all for making examples of the guilty, but a new Amour soon blotted out the remembrance of the first.  
Nor was the Count forgetful of his own safety in the excesses to which his jealousy had transported him: for he prevented the prosecutions of justice, by a voluntary exile, and lived in Foreign Countries so long as the House of Foix was in a condition to prosecute him. At length he addressed himself to the Constable Montmorency, who was become a greater Favourite than before, by the Death of Bonnivet, and Monchenu, who shared with him in the King's good will. The Count offered him a deed of gift of his Royalty, provided he could get him out of his Troubles, and Montmorency chose rather to purchase Chasteau-Brian by that means, then by a Confiscation, which would have engaged him in perpetual quarrels, which the House of Laval, from whence the Count was decended. Some Critics have pretended, that M. de Varillas, from whom I drew these Memoirs, was ill informed; and that the Countess of Chasteau-Brian was reconciled to her Husband, and that she did not Die till ten Years after the King's return. But these objections are so well answered, that I am convinced of the Countess' tragical end; so that I made no scruple to follow that famous Historian, word for word.  
No sooner was Francis I. delivered out of the hands of the Spaniards, bat he re-entered into a new imprisonment; which though more easy and pleasant, yet was do less dangerous. The Countess of Angoulême going to meet him as far as Mont de Marsan, carried along with her, the young Ann de Pisseleu, who was called Mademoiselle de Hellé, who was entertained as a Maid of Honour, into the Household of that Princess. The King found her so amiable, that he was not able to defend his liberty against her Charms. He married her in a short time to the Duke d' Estampes, who connived at her conduct; neither willing to approve it, for fear of injuring his Reputation; nor to condemn her, lest he should bring himself into trouble. The Duchess finding herself at liberty to make the best of her good fortune to please the King, ne'er minded any longer the avoiding any occasion that might advance her prosperity. She had got so much experience at Court, as to know that the most dangerous Rock that the King's Mistresses could hazard their Fortune against, was to quarrel with the Favourites or Ministers, who having often the Prince's Ear, may take the advantage of certain moments of disgust, and petty fall out between Lovers, to exasperate 'em, and persuade 'em to an absolute Rupture. This consideration, made her resolve to unite Interests with the Constable Montmorency, the Admiral Chabot, and the Chancellor du Prat, who, by the Authority of their Employments, and by the King's Indulgence, had got possession of the prime Ministry. Those three Officers, very obligingly corresponded with the first movements which the Duchess made toward the Quadruple League; well knowing, that notwithstanding the Greatness of their Credit, yet it might be shaken, if the King's Mistress understood how to make the best of those Favourable Minutes, when a Lover can deny nothing to the person upon whom he dotes.  
This correspondence between these four Persons proved successful, during the remainder of time that the Chancellor lived; because that cunning Minister, by his experience and diligence, provided so well for all the exigencies of the State, that the Favourites had no other care upon 'em, but to divertise their Master. But after his death, the Council wanting a Director, the Constable and the Admiral, who took no heed to instruct themselves, appeared such Novices in the Government, that the King was constrained to call up the Precedent Poyet. He was one of the most able Magistrates in the Kingdom; and his Capacity was equally the same, to manage, as well great as small Affairs, only his Genius led him rather to put things into confusion, then bring 'em to a final end. So soon as he had taken his place in the Council, he proposed the removal of the two Favourites, that only served to fill up the number; because the haughtiness of the first was become insupportable to him, and he feared the resentment of the second, by reason of a Suit of great consequence, wherein he had caused him to be overthrown. Fortune seemed to favour his Designs; for the King disgusted at the ill success of his Erterprises, had it put into his Head, that he might justify his ill Conduct to posterity, if he laid the blame of it upon his Favourites, and that their downfall would render 'em guilty of all the false steps which he had trodden in the public management of Affairs. The Admiral was the first that was to feel the effects of his ill humour, though he were in friendship with the Duchess of Estampes. They who did not dive into the King's more secret Thoughts, ascribed the Fall of Chabot to his imprudence, which had hindered his Majesty from utterly despoiling the Duke of Savoy of his Territories. The King entrusted Poyet, whom he had invested in the Office of Chancellor, with his Indignation against the Admiral, and consulted with him the best way to proceed against him, in due form of Law. The Chancellor was overjoyed to find the King so well disposed to favour his designs, and made him those Proposals that gave him great satisfaction. Nevertheless, because he stood in awe of the Duchess d' Estampes's Anger, whose Power he well knew, he sought the Protection of Diana of Poitiers, Wife to the Seneschal of Normandy, and the Dauphin's Mistress.  
That Lady was the Daughter of John of Poitiers, Lord of St. Valliere, who had preferred her very young to the Countess of Angouléme: after which, she was advanced to the service of Queen Claudia, as one of her Maids of Honour. Neither was St. Valliere deceived in his design of getting some Protection at Court, through the power of his Daughter's Charms: for it may be said, that she saved his Life by the secret Engines that she set at work. St. Vallier had had a hand in the revolt of the Constable of Bourbon, and the misfortune to be apprehended. For which he had been Arraigned, and was condemned to lose his Head. Diana was so astonished when she heard the news, that she thought herself obliged to do her utmost to save her Father from such a threatening danger. Thereupon, she went and threw herself at the King's Feet, all in Tears, and begged pardon for him, to whom she was beholding for her Life. And she appeared to the King in that deplorable condition, so amiable, and so charming, that she obtained whatever she desired, and infused Love into his Heart, under the mask of Pity. She preserved her Conquest till the King's fatal march into Italy, and he endeavoured to conceal his Infidelity from the Countess of Chateau-Brian, for whom he had always a great respect. We have already said, that at his return, he was so enamoured of Mademoiselle d' Helle, that she wholly possessed his Heart, and rendered him insensible to all the other Ladies of the Court; Diana, who had been married a long time before to Lewis de Brezé, Seneschal of Normandy, endeavoured to comfort herself for that same change of the King's Affection, with the marks of kindness which the Dauphin showed her, whose Inclinations she understood so well how to manage, that he continued faithful to her till death. But though she had reason enough to be satisfied with this victory, yet she could never pardon Madam d' Estampes for stealing the King's Heart from her, and conceived such a mortal hatred against her, that she never failed of giving the proofs of it upon all occasions that presented themselves.  
Poyet, who was acquainted with all these things, believed that he could not make choice of a better support; and in regard she was no less glad to have the Head of the Law on her side, the League was soon made. The Chancellor, after he had taken these Precautions, gave the King such positive assurances of ruining the Admiral in due form of Law, that he caused him to be arrested, and sent him to Bois de Vincenues: and Poyet immiediately drew up the Interrogatories, upon which he was to be examined. Nor was there any need of any great subtlety in the matter, for that the Admiral answered after such a manner, as did himself the greatest injury. And in regard, he made his defence more like a brave Soldier, than a cunning Lawyer, he confessed the very things that condemned him, believing 'em to be service able to his justification. Nor did he speak exactly the language of the Seamen, which was only understood by the Mariners at that time; nor was he sufficiently informed of the difference between the Privileges belonging to the Admiral, and those which the Laws reserved to the King. The Chancellor therefore, that he might make the best of these three defects, persuaded the King to choose Commissioners out of all the Parliaments of the Kingdom, to decide the Process, and to take the particular cognizance of it from the Parliament of Paris, the natural judge of Affairs of the Crown, as the Admiral's business was.  
They who were made choice of, were so devoted to the Chancellor, that there was no question to be made, but they would regulate their Suffrages according to the Chancellor's Instructions; and had he been contented with that precaution, the Admiral would have been condemned, and no body should have known who had been the most active Agent in his ruin. But nothing would serve the Chancellor, but to put himself at the head of the Commissioners; of which the Admiral had no sooner knowledge, but excepted against him. It is hardly to be believed that Poyet should be ignorant that his Dignity exempted him, as well from the Exception, as from the Reproaches that attended it. Nevertheless, if we consider his Conduct at that time, it looked as if he understood not the Privilege that belonged to his Office. To ward off this blow, which broke all his measures, he had recourse to an Artifice, the malignity of which had never been practised in a Court, where there was some decorum still observed in matter of probity. He was assured that the imprisonment of the Admiral had alarmed the Duchess and the Constable, who could not choose but be apprehensive of the same usage in a little time, and that the consideration of their own, rather than of the danger of their Friend, would incite 'em to leave nothing omitted which they deemed requisite to save his Life. Therefore he ordered his Agents neatly to insinuate it into their Heads, that it was no less his interest than theirs, to preserve the Admiral, and that the change which had happened in the Council, threatened with the same disgrace, all those who had the Honour to be admitted into it. Nevertheless, that the mischief was not so great as it might be imagined to be, since the Chancellor was not excluded from the number of the Commissioners; that be had taken all the precautions which the Law had taught him, to prevent the Judgement from extending itself either to natural or civil Death; but that he had understood with equal sentiments of Vexation and pity, that the Admiral had not a worse Enemy than his own self: that of necessity it must be concluded, that either the fear of Death had deprived him of his judgement, or that the Council assigned him of were false to him, since he talked of refusing the Head of the Law, and the only Friend that he had remaining among the Judges: that his pretence for excepting against him, grounded upon the loss of his Suit, was ridiculous; in regard that besides that the business in controversy, was but a trifle; 'twas so long while ago, and there had been such a change in the face of affairs since that, that the Admiral had no more reason to bear it in remembrance, than two grave Old Gentlemen might have to mistrust one of another, because, that in their Infancy they had quarrelled about a Pin. This comparison as mean as it was, made 'em so clearly apprehensive of the difference between Poyet, a Counsellor in Parliament only, and the same Poyet, a Chancellor and Minister of State, that the Duchess and the Constable suffered themselves to be surprised, They were dazzled with the false hopes which the Chancellor gave 'em, and communicated their mistake to the Admiral, while they thought to un-hood wink his Eyes. So that they obliged him to desist from his exception, and the Chancellor by that means being become Master of the process, by the consent of the parties, promised to himself that he should be able to manage it as the King pleased.  
A Man would have thought there was nothing now that could have prevented the ruin of Chabot, after his Friends had so stupidly fallen into the snare that was laid for 'em, when the King unwilling to take away the life of a favourite, for a crime which he did not believe him guilty of, signified to the Chancellor, that he would be content with a decree that might only punish the Admiral with the loss of all that he had acquired. The sentence than was pronounced with all the formality that could be, and the King after he had made use of Poyets Ministry, to show a great example of severity, was no less desirous immediately after, of his own free will, and without communicating his thoughts to any body, to make manifest as great an example of his clemency: doubtless that he might improve the value of his Mercy, and cause the Duchess to set a higher price upon the favour which he was resolved to do at her request. For he did not only restore the Admiral to his employment, and his Government of Poitou, but he ordered the Process to be reviewed, and a Declaration to be made by way of Interpretation of the Edict, that that same Officer of the Crown had neither been convicted of Treason nor Treachery.  
After the Restoration of the Admiral, the Triumvirate recovered its former Authority, and it was thought that nothing could have broken the Union between those three Persons, when the Constable, through his own imprudence drew upon himself, a misfortune from which he could never retreive himself, during the Reign, of Francis I. and if he returned to Court in the following Reign, 'twas no longer to second the designs of the Duchess' d'Estampes; for he took part with her Rivaless, and married his Son to the Daughter of that Lady, the Widow of Horatio Farnese, of which more in due place.  
The Emperor had desired of the King of France, free passage through his Country, year 1539 to punish the Gaulois, who were revolted against him, and offered the investiture of the Duchy of Milan to the Duke of Orleans, his second Son. The Constable was for giving the Emperor leave to cross the Kingdom, provided that before he entered, he confirmed in writing the promise which the Commissioners had made, and that to that effect, some person of Quality might be sent to meet his Imperial Majesty under pretence of doing him the more Honour, but indeed, to get that Writing from him in due form. The Cardinal of Tournon was of a contrary opinion, but though supported with reasons so solid, that they seemed to be beyond all reply, yet it was not followed. And as the Constable in speaking, had more regard to the Idea that prepossessed him, then to the Truth, so did the King also give his judgement, rather according to his own inclination, which had turned his Eyes toward Milan, then with a prospect of the Kingdom's welfare.  
Not was the Constable contented to have turned the balance on his side, his vanity was such, that nothing would serve him, but to be made choice of for the person, that was to go and meet the Emperor, and receive him upon the Frontiers; nor would the vain glory of so honourable a Commission, let him see the dangers that attended it. He met the Emperor beyond the River of Bidassoa, and pressed him according to his Instructions, to grant before hand the investiture of the Duchy of Milan, to the Duke of Orleans, who, together with the Dauphin, stayed for his Imperial Majesty on the otherside of the River.  
The Emperor who had his answer ready, caressed the Constable after an extraordinary manner, and declared to him, that he would wholly refer it to him, and rely upon what he should advise him to do. Which done, he entrusted him with a Counterseit secret, feigning to discover to him the bottom of his Heart, and lest nothing omitted to convince the Constable that he was resolved at last to satisfy the King. He added that all the scruple lay in the time, and that he did not stand so much upon preserving his own Reputation, as the credit of Francis I. for that as his most Christian Majesty chief affected to appear generous, it would be the greatest injury that could be done him in the World, should his Honour be Eclipsed, by giving all Europe a pretence to presume that he had not permitted, but sold the Emperor a passage. Which they would not fail to give out, if the investiture should be given before the passage was granted. Whereas if the leave were permitted nobly and without conditions, he gave his Imperial word, that he would cause the Instrument of the investiture to be dispatched in the first City of the Low-Countries; with a preamble no less to the Honour of his Brother-in-Law, than his own: because it should contain, that the kind entertainment that he had given him in France, and the Friendship that he had-shewn him, had engaged him to acknowledge such signal favours by a present no less magnificent than was the Duchy of Milan-  
The Emperor, upon the score of his promise, was regaled from Bayonne, to Chatelraut, whither the King was advanced to receive him; nevertheless when Francis I. understood the snare, into which the Constable was fallen, he was dissatisfied with his Negotiation, and, was just upon the point of pursuing the Counsel that had been given him, to seize upon the Emperor's person, under plausible pretences, till he had put the Duke of Orleans in full possession of the Duchy of Milan. Le Peloux, a French Gentleman, who had put himself into the Emperor's Service, gave him notice of it; who judging the danger so much the more inevitable, by how much People are apt to believe as soon what they fear, as what they wish for and desire, he revolved in his mind, all the expedients that the most accomplished subtil●y could furnish him withal, and and found none better, then that of a surprising liberality. The Lady whom he feared most, was the Duchess d'Estampes, who solely governed the King, and had quitted her association with the Constable ever since the understood that he held correspondence with the Seneschal's Wife, to the end he might have the protection of a person near the Dauphin, when he came to the Crown. These two Ladies had had a terrible falling out, during Montmorenci's journey, and upon his return he was obliged to choose his side in the quarrel. The occasion of the quarrel was, that the Duchess should say, that she was born the same Day that the Seneschal's Wife was married. Which villainous reproach of Old Age, so heinously offended the person whom it concerned, that it was impossible to pacify her. The Constable after he had in vain employed all his credit, declared for the she Seneschal: whither it were, that he preferred the rising before the Setting-Sun, or that he thought his Fortune so firmly settled with the King, that nothing could shake it. But his foresight was not true on bothsides, for that in forsaking the Duchess he incensed a revengeful Woman, who had too much Wit to omit the first opportunity she met with, to hasten his ruin. In a word, she had approved the advice which the Cardinal of Tournon gave, and pealed continually in the King's Ears, that His Majesty would become the object of public raillery, if he suffered himself to be so cheated and deluded. Wither the Emperor were informed or no, of these particulars, is not so certainly known, but he acted after such a manner, as if he had perfectly understood 'em. One Day that he was washing his hands with the King before Dinner, and that the Duchess prereated 'em the Towel, he let fall a Jewel enriched with a Diamond of great value: presently the Duchess took it up, and would have returned it, but the Emperor told her with a graceful and pleasant aspect, which he could put on when he pleased, that he never envied the present that Fortune had made to so charming a person; that the Ring belonged to her by an inviolable Law, of the Empire, which was so far from permitting the Emperors to take back again what had fallen from their hands, how great so e'er the value of it were, that he ordained it to remain with the person, that should find it, as a testimony of the Adventure. 'Twas no difficult thing to find out the place from whence this Law was taken, nor to bring examples to justify that it had been in use. The Duchess therefore made use of all her alluring language to persuade the Emperor to receive the Jewel back again, and the King pressed him withal the civility that could be imagined. But the Emperor, who had too well begun his artifice to leave it off imperfect, persisted so obstinately in his resolution that the Jewel should remain with the Duchess, that the King was constrained to let her keep it.  
The effect of this Jewel was, that the Duchess, who wanted no Wit, reflecting upon the Emperor's courtship, and upon his suttlety, to make her accept of a magnificent present at the only conjuncture, wherein the King could consent to her acceptance of it, found herself engaged to defer her revenge upon the Constable, for fear lest the disgrace of that Favourite, should reflect upon a Prince so liberal as the Emperor. The Court removed afterwards to Paris, where his Imperial Majesty stayed only so long as was necessary to give the King some time to empty his Coffers by a supersluous magnificence. From thence he went to Chantilli, where the Constable treated him in his turn. The King also conducted the Emperor as far as St. Quentin, and commanded the Dauphin and the Duke of Orleans to accompany him as far as Valenciennes.  
A Man would hardly believe the caresses which the Emperor bestowed upon the Youngest of those two Princes, under pretence of his being charmed with his pleasant humour. He treated him like one that was to be his Son-in-Law, and put him in hopes that the fief of Milan was not the only favour which he was to expect. After the Emperor was got within his own territories, the Constable and the Bishop of Vabres, the French Ambassador, demanded Audience, and pressed him to perform his promise. The Emperor durst not disgust 'em at first, because the King might succour the Inhabitants of Gaunt, and therefore he only returned 'em for answer, that the King of the Romans his Brother, was upon the road for Flanders, and that it was necessary to stay for his arrival, to the end there might remain no dispute about the investiture, which he had promised without acquainting him who was to succeed in the Empire, with his design. The Constable upon that, returned to the King his Master, but the Bishop of Vabres who followed the Emperor, continued his importunities so vigorously, that he constrained him at last to pull off his Mask, and to disown all that he had said to the Constable.  
The King, so much the more nettled at this piece of Infidelity, by how much it equally concerned both his Honour and his Interests, acknowledged his fault in not demanding a writing, from the Emperor: and because there is nothing so usual, as for Princes to lay the blame of their own mis-failings upon others, when they have the least pretence; he complained of his being deceived, for no other reason but that he might have an occasion to punish the Constable, whom he upbraided with all the faults he had committed; he confined him to his House of Chentilly; and people made no question but the Duchess d'Estampes was the cause of his Disgrace. And the proof of what was alleged was grounded upon this, that the Dauphin, after he had made use of all his power to support his Gossip, for so he called the Constable, not only could not prevail with the King, but drew upon himself severe Reprimands, which he thought he no way deserved.  
year 1540 Nor was the Constable the only person upon whom the Duchess' wrath fell heavy; for the Chancellor Poyet felt those effects of it, which were much more violent, The pretence that she took to ruin him, was occasioned by John du Tillet, chief Prothonotary of the Parliament of Paris, and John de la Renaudy, Gentleman of Perigord, who was afterwards the Principal Author of the Civil Wars of France. The credit of the Parties, or the difficulties of the Questions that were to be decided, had removed the Affair to several Tribunals, from whence it was summoned to be heard before the Council, and at last transmitted to the Parliament of Dijon. La Renaudie, fearing lest he should be overthrown, obtained the King's Letters, by the favour of the Duchess d'Estampes, whom he had engaged in his Interests, to delay giving Sentence, that he might have time to perplex the Cause anew. Gilbert Bayard the King's Secretary, presented the Letters to the Seal, and failed not to advertise the Chancellor, that it was by his Majesty's express Order, who could not refuse that Favour, upon the solicitations of the Duchess d'Estampes. 'Tis not known whether the Chancellor examined those Letters, to the end he might acquit himself in his Office, like a person of Sincerity; or whether it were out of any secret reluctancy, to follow the Capticio's of the Duchess, with a blind adherency; or whether it were that he favoured du Tillet's Cause; but certain it is, that he refused to seal the Letters, till he had altered 'em in several places. La Renaudie, not finding 'em then fit for his purpose, carried 'em to the Duchess, not a little already incensed against the Chancellor, since the Admiral's arraignment, and quickened her to Revenge, under pretence of maintaining her Honour. Nor did she delay it any longer than the Evening of the same day, at what time she presented lafoy Renaudie, holding the Letters in his hand, to the King, as he risen from the Table. That Gentleman, naturally eloquent, as he made it afterwards appear in the conspiracy of Amboise, aggravated the importance of the words which the Chancellor had altered, and endeavoured to exasperate the King against him, by reason of that opposition which he adventured to make against his absolute Power. The King, who for a long time had had a desire to disgrace the Chancellor, could not have met with a more plausible pretence. He was hated by all the Court and it was well known that no body would be sorry for him nevertheless, for important Reasons his downfall was delayed. The King only ordered La Renaudie to carry back the Letters to the Chancellor, and to command him peremptorily in his Name, to dispatch 'em without any qualifications. La Renaudie returned to Poyet, and delivered his Message with an arrogant Tone, in the presence of the Queen of Navarr, who at the same time solicited for a Servant of hers, who was convicted for having stolen a wealthy Heiress. The Chancellor was too haughty, patiently to endure, that a Country Gentleman should put a kind of affront upon him in his own House, and before a Princess, whose Esteem it concerned him to preserve. But in regard he durst not refuse to obey the second Order, not to give the bearer ill language, he took the Letters from Renaudie, and showing 'em to the Queen of Navarr, See here, Madam, said he, what the Ladies do at the Court, they are not contented to exercise their Empire, but they undertake to violate the Laws, and to instruct the Magistrates, the most accomplished in the exercise of their Offices. Now though the Chancellor aimed in his Discourse, at no body but the Duchess, yet it happened unluckily for him, that the Queen of Navarr thought herself nipped by the severity of his short satire, by reason that the terms were equivocal, and might as well be applied to her solicitations, in behalf of her Servant, as to the constraint that was put upon him to Seal lafoy Renaudie's Letters. However, she did not discover all her Resentment, for fear of quarrelling with one of the King her Brother's Officers, only made him answer, That she was too much concerned in the misfortune of which he complained, to procure him any reparation, since she could not right herself. But she was no sooner gone out of the Chancellor's House, but she went to the Duchess, and gave her an account of the chafe that Poyet was in; nor did she leave her, till they had concerted both together, which way to put him quite out of the King's Favour. 'Twas no difficult thing for those two Ladies, who had shared between 'em, the Love and Friendship of that Prince, to make him consent to abandon a Man, whom he had a design already to be rid of; immediately therefore his Majesty sent for the Seals, which he gave to Francis de Manthelon, Precedent of the Parliament, no less famous for his Integrity, then for his vigorous Defence of the Constable of Bourbon's Cause, when he was an Advocate. Nor would the King permit so signal an action to go unrewarded, and had therefore advanced him to one of the principle Dignities of the Gown, though he had not displayed his Eloquence, but for pleading against the Countess of Angouléme his Mother. But the Queen Of Navarr and the Duchess were too much exasperated against the Chancellor, to be satisfied with a punishment, which only suspended him from the execution of his Office. They had sufficiently penetrated into his Intrigues, to be convinced, that if he had his liberty, he would infallibly refix himself at Court; or if that way failed him, such a conjuncture might happen, that some exigency of Affairs might constrain the King to send for him to come and take his place in Council. It behoved 'em then to disable him from waiting for such an opportunity; and the two Ladies to bring about their design, formed a Faction against him, consisting of the Principal Persons of the Court, not excepting Queen Eleonor, who made one, though she had resolved, not to meddle with any thing, more especially, when there was a War in agitation against the Emperor her Brother. People were a long time searching after the reason of this change in the Queen's Mind, and the speculative Persons imagined they had made the discovery, which was this; She had lived in France as it were in exile, and she had little acquaintance in the Country: She had suffered much from the Duchess d' Estampes, who left her no share in the King's Affection; and as an accumulation to her discontent, she was neither able to revenge herself, nor to better her own condition. Nor had her misfortune moved any of the Courtiers, but only the Constable Montmorency, who had assisted her out of Love, as her Enemies reported, or out of pity, which was most probable. She knew that the Chancellor Poyet had contributed to the Chancellor's disgrace; and her stomaching of that, was sufficient to oblige her to side with a Party, which gave her the opportunity to be revenged of the one, and to contribute to the restauration of the other.  
The Dauphin appeared at the Head of the Chancellor's Enemies, that he might give Montmorency, in his retirement to Chantilly, the consolation to understand, that he who had been the instrument to remove him from the Court, was himself banished from thence without any hopes of returning thither again. The King of Navarr joined merely, out of complacence to his Wife: The Count of St. Paul, out of a certain antipathy, which sometimes happens between the Princes of the Blood and the Chief Ministers: The Admiral Chabot, that he might have the satisfaction of seeing his Enemy fall into the snare which he had laid for him: Mompezat, in hatred of the Counterpoise which the Chancellor gave to his Favour: And the Cardinal of Tournon, and Marshal d' Annhavit, that they might remain alone in the Council of State. All these Persons had made so powerful a combination, that the King was unable to withstand it any longer. They pealed in his Ears, how dangerous a thing it was to let a Lion live in a condition to hurt him, after he had once provoked him. That the Chancellor had in his hands all the Deeds and Instruments of the Crown, and that his Majesty had trusted him with his most important Secrets, which Poyet might render useless, by revealing 'em to the Emperor, and by his perfidiousness, procure himself a public Settlement as considerable in Spain, as he lost in France. Whence they concluded, that there was a necessity of confining him to a place of security, and to watch him so narrowly, that it, might not be in his power to do any mischief, though he should design it.  
The King rather wearied with the frequent repetition of these Reasons, then convinced by the strength of 'em, gave order, at his going to Bed to Lewis de Nevers, to Arrest the Chancellor, and carry him to the Tower of Bourges. Nevers discharged himself of his Commission, with as much joy as a Man could be sensible of, who revenged the Public upon his own particular Enemy. He beset his House with armed Soldiers, he wakened him with a terrible noise, and signified the King's Order in expressions full of nipping raillery; he would hardly give him time to put on his , nor would he permit him to go into his Study, nor to speak to any body, but carried him away in all haste to the Tower of Bourges.  
Nor was this alteration of Fortune so surprising, as that which appeared in the Soul of the Chancellor. They who had known him for the boldest and most superb among. Men, before his fall, could not sufficiently admire his abject pusillanimity and cowardice in his imprisonment. He tired both his Friends and his Enemies with unseasonable complaints, and ridiculous entreaties, and left nothing omitted which he thought might inspire compassion into the Ladies that he had offended, and made use of his liberty to exercise his Pen, which was at length allowed him to beg of the King, the Cardinal of Tournon, and Admiral Chabot, to redeem his Life and Liberty at the price of the vast Wealth which he had acquired. Nothing more manifestly proved him unworthy of his high fortune, than his extreme desire to survive his disgrace. His carriage quite changed that fear and aversion which People had against his Person, into a contempt which was no way advantageous to him; seeing that they left him for some years in the Tower of Bourges, without so much as thinking of him. At ength he was so importunate with the Ministers of State, that they ordered him to be brought to his Trial, but not after such a method as he expected. For they appointed Commissioners to try him, chosen out of all the Parliaments of the Kingdom. However, they did him this justice, to make choice of the most able and the most honest: Nor were there ever in France any Judges, whose probity and Abilities were more universally known, than those of Peter Raymund, Precedent of the Parliament of Roven, who was ordered to draw up the Informations. They were willing to give him that satisfaction; whether it were that his enemies thought that they had more proofs than they needed to ruin him, or that the King who had no mind to pardon him, as he had forgiven Admiral Chabot had taken all the precautions requisite to prevent any thing that might be spoken against the severity which he intended to inflict upon the chief Magistrate of the Kingdom. However it were, the Process lasted till the year 1545. because the Party accused finding himself abandoned by all the world, and ready to sink unrder the same Artifices, with which he had oppressed others, made use of all the tricks that long experience had taught him, and summoned up all his cunning, and his parts to defend himself. He led his Judges through all the by-paths of Subterfuge and Evasion that Cavil could invent, to elude, or at least to delay his Condemnation. He puzzled alike both his Judges and his Witnesses that were brought Face to Face against him; and made so good a defence that he saved his Life; whither it were that his Judges after a long debate, did not find reasons enough to condemn him to Death, or that the too open animosity of the prosecutors, had infused compassion into those Magistrates, by persuading 'em he was Innocent, because his Enemies were so violent in seeking his ruin. He heard, bareheaded, the Decree pronounced that deprived him of his Dignities and Estate, and confined him to perpetual Imprisonment, for having Robbed the Treasury, fold Offices, and trafficked in several bargains, misbecoming his quality. The King surprised at the mildness of the Decree, could nor forbear testifying his resentment against the Judges, and threw upon 'em those reproaches that extended even to accusations of being corrupted. However his Majesty remitted the punishment of Imprisonment, and Poyet was constrained for a Livelihood, to resume his first employment of Chamber-Counsellor in the Palace; deeming himself happy, that he had got himself out of the Briars at any rate, before Judges of approved integrity; for that indeed there was as many persons convinced that he deserved Death, as there were People that knew him.  
The Duchess d' Estampes after she had ruined all those that dared to obstruct her credit, year 1587. seemed to fear nothing but the Death of the King, which was the only disturbance of her mind. For though the Duke d' Estampes her Husband, had made a judicial enquiry into her behaviour since her Marriage, yet she was well assured that he could make no use of it, so long as the King lived: however he was not immortal, and the time would come when that cruel separation would happen. The Duchess also to her sorrow, beheld the misfortune at a distrance, and was sensible of the approaches of it. For Francis I. decayed insensibly in his Health; and whither it were that his Physicians were ignorant of the true cause of his disease, or whither they durst not discover it; or whither they despaired that His Majesty would submit to violent Remedies, which could only correct the malignity of it, they only put a stop in some measure to the outward effects, which were most incommodious, without ever going to the root of the Disease. So that the King perceiving himself grow more unwieldy every Day then other, and losing that vigour and Address which had formerly been the cause that he delighted, with so much passion, in the sports of Hunting and other laborious exercises, lived a kind of morose Life, of which the Duchess was forced to bear all the inconveniencies; at the same time, that on the otherside, she was afflicted and disturbed to think what would become of her after the King's Death, who in all probability could not be long Lived.  
She was in some hopes of reassuming that place in her Husband's affection, from whence jealousy had expelled her, in regard she was yet young, and was the Mistress still of that same ravishing Beauty, which had formerly charmed him. Nor was it unlikely, but that compassion might overrule her Husband's Heart, after the King's death had extinguished the cause of his jealousy, by producing these effects therein, which are expected from Love. However it were, Diana of Normandy's hatred seemed to be much more formidable to her: she was to be what she herself had been, and it was to be presumed that she would make use of all her credit to ruin her Enemy.  
Diana was the Dauphin's Mistress, as the Duchess was the King's, but there was no other resemblance between 'em, either in their persons, or their Wit. The Duchess was never more Beautiful than she was at that time, nor had she lost any thing of that lustre, which had caused her to be looked upon by the most curious Eyes, even by the Emperor himself, as the most accomplished Beauty in Europe, whereas the she-Seneschal had none of those Allurements, which at one and twenty Years of Age, had saved the Life of her Father Sr. Valier. The Duchess was not above thirty, and the she Seneschal was suspected to be above threescore; for she had caused her name to be torn out of the Register of the Christening. The Duchess commanded naturally, Diana of Poitiers by art, and those different Empires were preserved by opposite means. The Duchess, who feared not her being degraded, till the King began to decay in his health, stood less upon her guard, and never laid any constraint upon herself, when she spoke of Diana; whereas the other concealed under feigned demonstrations of respect and compliance the despite to see herself contemned; and was in company when that terrible expression fell from the Duchess' Lips, that she was born the same Day that the Seneschal's Wife was married. Nevertheless she dissembled her resentment so long as the King was strong and lusty, but she no sooner perceived that His Majesty began to decline, but she began to make the Duchess sensible, that the time of her revenge was drawing on. The Duchess being obliged by this ill usage to reflect upon the irregularity of her Tongue, was so much the more afraid of the effects of Diana's hatred, by how much the less she was in a condition to avoidx'em. For instead of managing to her advantage the Duke d' Estampes her Husband, whose humour insensible and little subject to the pleasures of Love, might have been amused by slight marks of the King's liberality and vain employments, provided he had received 'em when he stood in need of 'em; she had displeased him to that degree, as to incense him beyond the bounds of decency, out of the strangest capriccios', that ever jealousy infused, to publish his own dishonour by a judicial enquiry into the behaviour of his Wife, as we have already said. This way of proceeding put the Duchess out of all hopes of ever returning to her Husband, and reduced her to that misery, that the Seneschal's Wife, after the King's Death, made use of the jealous Duke, as an instrument to torment her, till her revenge was fully satiated.  
These inducements of terror that could not be either more powerful nor more probably grounded, obliged the Duchess to seek out for an expedient to secure her from the impending storm. And that which seemed to her to be best and the most easy altogether, was to shroud herself under the Duke of Orleance's protection, and to set up a faction at Court so powerful in his favour, as to equal that which Diana had formed for the Dauphin. The Dutches' aim was to seek for some great establishment for the Duke of Orleans without the Kingdom, where she might find that repose and security, which she stood in need of. Nor was there any other establishment which he could pretend to, then what the Emperor had so many times proposed, which was the investiture of the Duchy of Milan, or the Low Countries, upon two conditions. The one was, that he should marry the Emperor's Daughters, or his Niece. The other was, to prevent the Reunion of what ever should be given in favour of either of these two Matches, to the Crown of France. All the difficulty lay in the last Condition, to which the pretended sterility of the Dauphiness, was an invincible obstacle That Princess had been married ten Years, yet never had any signs of a great Belly: and let the cause be what it would, from whence the defect proceeded, the Duke of Orleans would be ne'er the less presumptive Heir to the Crown, nor by consequence less capable, in the Emperor's judgement, to hold the fiefs of Milan, and the Low Countries. Fernelius the Physician after he had sounded the Dauphinesses temper, took a fancy that he could cure her indisposition, and whither it were, that the Physic that he gave her wrought effectually, or that his secret consisted only in revealing to the Dauphin, the particular minutes wherein his Wife was most capable to conceive; the whole Court perceived in a few Months after, that the Dauphiness was big with Child.  
The Duchess' surprising joy upon the news would not allow her so much liberty of thought at first, as to know the advantages that she might draw from thence, but afterwards she ordered the Emperor to be sounded, whether he had any mind to engage the Duke of Orleans to his Interests, or no. He that was entrusted with a Commission so nice as this, had all the qualities sufficient to begin so great an affair, but not those that were proper to bring it to a conclusion. He was of the Illustrious House of Longueval, and Count of B●ssu, and he had insinuated himself into the friendship of the Duchess, by the care which he took to improve her Estate, and give her notice of such opportunities, as offered themselves to increase it, by begging vacant gratifications of the King. And in regard, he had Lands in the Low Countries, as well as in Picardy, he might without being suspected, hold a correspondence in both Provinces. He had both Wit and Address, Resolution and Reservedness, but he was extremely felt interested, and in regard he had a greater Estate in Flanders, then in France; that which he mainly aimed at, was to establish himself in the first of those Countries, where his posterity afterwards fixed themselves, and grew numerous.  
This inducement made him accept of the Order to negotiate for the Duchess; because it would render him more considerable to the House of Austria; and the Emperor overjoyed to see so potent a faction among his Enemies that sought to correspond with him, looked upon this conjuncture, as a favour that Fortune offered him for the resettlement of his affairs in the Low-Countries. He assured the Duchess that he would give the Duke of Orleans the Duthy of Milan with his Niece, or the Low-Countries with his Daughter: and for sear she should mistrust he would deceive her, because he granted her demand so soon, and so readily; he added that he reserved to himself the choice of the alternative, and that he would not be obliged to explain himself, nor to perform his promise, till he should have made an agreement with the King; that is to say, till he should reap all the effects of that friendship which the Duchess and her faction could procure him, for those remote promises, the performance of which, depended upon his sincerity.  
The Count of Bossu had understanding sufficient to perceive, that the Engagement was not reciprocal, but he shut his Eyes: and the Duchess, from whom the Allurement of a retreating place, took away the sight of the Serpent that lay under the flowers, performed her part in forming so strict a League with the Emperor, that nothing past either at the Court, or in the Council of France, which was not immediately conveyed to his knowledge. In short, the first Letter that he received by the Count's means, did him so signal a piece of service, that it saved both his person and his whole Army. And the Emperor knew so well to make his advantage of the intelligence that she gave him, that he reduced France within two Finger's breadth of utter ruin. But Fortune having balanced his first successes, the Duchess took an occasion from thence to manage a peace between the two Crowns.  
The reciprocal fears, of Francis I. and Charles V were the foundation of a new intrigue between Queen Elenor's and the Emperor's Confessors, both of 'em Dominican Friars. The first was called Diegos Chiavez, and the second Gabriel de Gusman. Chiavez by virtue of a private Order which he concealed, wrote to Gusman, as if he had pretended only to impart to him a thought that was come into his Head, that the greatest good they could do both the one and the other, was to try, whither Divine Providence would make use of 'em, as Instruments to confound the Wisdom of Men, by employing 'em to make that Peace which so many great personages could not conclude. Gusman presently apprehended what lay concealed in his Brother's Letter, and showed it to Queen Eleonor.  
The Queen held a correspondence with the Duchess d' Estampes, because not having any Issue by the King, she expected to be sent back, so soon as she should be a Widow: and consequently she took no other care but to deserve a favourable reception from the Emperor her Brother, when she should return to reside with him, by doing him good Service in an Enemy's Court, whither she had been banished under the specious pretence of Matrimony. Gusman and the two Ladies laboured so successfully with Francis I. that that they caused him to patch up a Peace very advantageous to the Emperor, and to sacrifice to the expectation of an imaginary Alliance, several considerable places which enlarged the Emperor's Frontiers, and secured 'em in such a manner, that for a long time there was no danger on that side. 'Tis true, that the course which the Dauphin took in causing the Constable to be recalled, and putting him at the head of the Army, contributed not a little to make the King resolve upon a Peace out of his aversion to the chief Officer of the Crown. But the Death of the Duke of Orleans, which happened some time after, disengaged the Emperor from his promise, at a time when he saw himself obliged in pursuance of the Treaty of Crepi, to resolve upon the giving him his Daughter with the Low-Countries, or his Niece with the Duchy of Milan. In the mean time Francis I after he had spun out his Distemper in several places, felt his Fever gather such strength upon him, at Rambouille●, that he could not reach St. Germains, where he thought to repose himself: so that after he had lain in a languishing condition for some Days, in that House, he gave up the Ghost, leaving the Seneschal of Normandy's Wife in full power to execute her premeditated revenge upon the Duchess d' Estampes, by means of her Ascendant over the new King.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Henry II.  
THE Face of the Court was wholly changed after the Death of Francis I. The Cardinal of Tournon, and Marshal d' Annebaut, who had the supreme management of affairs, under the preceding Reign, were turned out of the Council, and ●he Constable who was recalled from his Exile, was admitted in their Room, Francis, Count of Aumale, who was Duke of Guise after the Death of his Father, and James d' Albon St. Andrè, were the King's Favourites. But the chief Authority remained in the hands of Diana of Poitiers, the Widow of Lewis de Brezé, Seneschal of Normandy, who was made Duchess of Valentivois, The Duchess d' Estampes fearing the effects of her Enemy's revenge, retired to Ville Martin, a House of pleasure, within a League of the City, which bore the Name of her Duchy, There she lived for some Years in the exercise of the new Religion which she had embraced, and to which her example and her Liberality, drew a great number of People of both Sexes.  
But though the Duchess of Valentinois had reason to be contented with the excess of confidence and affection which the King showed her, yet could not she not continue faithful to him. She was charmed with the goodly presence of Charles de Coss Brissac: she struggled for some time with her sentiments of tenderness for him, and at length not being able to extinguish 'em, after she had consulted her mirror which persuaded her that she had still beauty enough, notwithstanding the alteration that Age had made to her Face, to engage that Lord to comply with her passion, she resolved to that purpose, to let him understand what past in her Hear●. She took an opportunity to do it, when he came to congratulate her upon the removal of Madam d' Estampes. Are your protestations sincere, said she, and may I be assured that you have a real devotion for my person? After he had sworn, that she might put him upon the Trial, and that he was ready to sacrifice his Life for her Interests, I know, pursued she, that the credit I have at Court, engages all those who have any Ambition, to offer me their service; but I require from you more disinterested sentiments: I would have it that you should only Love in me what I hold from nature, without considering what I own to the King's favours. I shall not be ungrateful; for I will take care of your fortune, provided you let me follow my own inclinations, and wholly confide in me. She accompanied those words with looks so passionate, that Brissac who was no novice in Love, readily understood that it would be his fault, if he did not enter into a particular Intrigue with the Duchess. He was in great danger of incurring the King's displeasure, if a familiarity of that nature should come to be discovered; but more of falling under Diana's indignation, if she found herself contemned, after she had met him so far above half the way. Thereupon he never scrupled which course to take; and judging it became him not to neglect so fair an opportunity, he made no other answer, then by a most passionate kiss which he imprinted upon one of the Duchess' hands. 'Tis not known whither Brissac had any real passion for her; or whether he feigned a true affection, that he might make the best of her credit; but certain it is, that they had several meetings. Some time after the Court removed to Chasteau de Chambert which Francis the I. had built. The Duchess was lodged in an Apartment by itself at the end of the Park, whither the King went the next Evening, when all People had left his Chamber, through a Gallery made under Ground, and stayed all the Night with her. One Evening that Brissac had tarried somewhat later than ordinary, word was brought by some of the Attendants, that they had spied a light at the entrance into the Vault, and that most certainly the King was at hand. At which, the Duchess being alarmed, presently sent away Brissac, who not far from the separate Apartment met Claude Tais, Grand Master of the Ordinance, whether it were upon any Assignation hard by, or whether his musing thoughts had led him so far that way. However it were, he knew Brissac, and mistrusting the occasion of his Nocturnal visit, he accosted him, and jested too close upon him. Brissac no way pleased with his discourse, acquainted the Duchess with it next Day, who presently caused the indiscreet Frumper to be discarded, and obtained his employment for her Favourite. Tais known well from whence his misfortune came, but durst not speak a word of it to any Living Soul, for fear of a worse trouble.  
From Chambort the Court removed to Joinville, where the Queen was seized with a purple Fever, which swelled her Tongue to that decree, that she lost her speech. Immediately the poor Queen was forsaken by all her Officers, who thought her Disease had been Mortal, nor did any body remain with her but the Cardinal of Chatillon. The Duchess was extremely alarumed at her being so ill, fearing lest it the Queen should die, the King would Marry some young Person, whose Charms might ●o● her of his Affection. But the distemper, which had been so violent at first, was but of short continuance: for that in eight days the Queen was past danger; and her recovery restored tranquillity of Mind to all that were concerned in her preservation.  
year 1549 The Chancellor Olivier, because he could not comply with the Duchess as he ought to have done, to preserve himself in the Ministry, fell into disgrace. Nevertheless, because they could not deprive him of his Employment, without taking away his life, and for that his integrity would not permit 'em to fasten any accusation upon him, the Duchess, to suspend him from the execution of his employment, caused the King to deliver the Seals into the custody of Commissioners; Bertrand, whom she had already advanced to be first Precedent of Paris, and Giles le Maitre a Creature of her own.  
And now the Duchess, to secure herself a Protection, both within and without the Kingdom, married her two Daughters that she had by the King, the eldest who was called Diana, to Heratio Farnese Duke of Castro, the youngest Son of Pope Paul III. and the youngest to Claudius of Lorraine, Duke of Aumale. she also procured the Battoon of Marshal of France for Brissae, for, whom she had still the same tenderness.  
year 1556 Pope Paul III, having embroiled himself with Philip II. King of Spain, sent into France Cardinal Car●ffa, his Nephew, to engage King Henry II. in a League against the Spaniards. The Affair was debated in Council, where the Duke of Guise maintained with great hear, that 'twas requisite to give assistance to his Holiness, with a design to make advantage of it. He was in hopes that by sending Forces into Italy, he might be able to advance his Brother the Cardinal of Guise to the Pontificate, so soon as the See should become vacant; and in the mean time, to make himself Master of the Kingdom of Naples, which, as he said, belonged to him, as Heir to the House of Anjou. The Queen upheld his Opinion, in hopes to procure the Command of the Army for her Kinsman Marshal Frotzi. The Duchess of Valentinoi●, who was in a strict Union with the Guises, was of the same Opinion; nor durst the Constable Montmoranci oppose her, for fear of displeasing her, and in hopes that the Guises going into Italy, would give him an opportunity in their absence, to fix his Credit more steadfastly at Court. Thus the League with the Pope being resolved upon, a numerous Army was raised to be sent to the Pope; but Dava●son, the King's Ambassador at Rome, a Creature of the Guises, who was acquainted with this Intrigue, explained himself so openly upon it, that the King who was informed of it, altered his opinion, for fear of contributing to their ambitious designs. Their credit also received a kind of check; but they recovered themselves in a short time, by the marriage which they negotiated between the Dauphin and Mary Stuart Queen of Scotland, their Kinswoman. The Duchess of Valentinois, who began to grow jealous of their advancement, crossed this Match as much as in her lay, but not being able to prevent it, resolved to unite herself more strictly with the Constable, by marrying her Daughter to his eldest Son; she being now the Duke of Castro's Widow, who was slain at the Siege of Hedin. There was one obstacle in the way which she had much ado to surmount: For the young Montmoranci, privately, and without his Father's consent, had married Mademoiselle de Pienne, of the House of Alvin. The Constable sent his Son to Rome in order to get his Marriage declared void by the Rota. But Montmoranci, after the Affair had been examined at several Sittings, could obtain no definitive Sentence: for the Pope was desirous to make the best of the Duchess, and to tie her to his Interests, by keeping her in hopes of a favourable Judgement. But the Duchess, tired out with these delays, took a shorter way, obliging the King to make a Law, by which, all Marriages contracted by Infants under Age, without the consent of their Parents, were declared void. After this Ordinance was verified, upon Montmorancy's averrment, that he never gave his Faith to Madana de Prenne, but upon condition, that his Father would give his consent, the Parliament cancelled all the Engagements that were between 'em, and then the young Lord married the Duchess of Castro.  
The Guises, seeing that the Duchess of Valentinois treated 'em but very coldly, and trusted no body but the Constable, who was of kin to the Marshal de Brissac, her Favourite, endeavoured to revenge themselves. The Queen of Scotland had brought along with her into France, Madam Hamilton a kinswoman of hers, who was Mistress of all the Graces both of Body and Mind. Presently they spread abroad the fame of her Beauty, and by their Emissaries, cunningly and neatly gave her such frequent commendations in the in the King's Ear, that he, desirous to know whether her applauders did not flatter her, found so much sweetness, so much life and gaiety in her Conversation, that he could not choose but love her. He had aleady for some time, taken some disgust against the Duchess; but she had such an ascendant over him, that he durst not give her the least offence; and he took as much care to conceal from her his Intrigue with Madam Hamilton, as if she had been his Wife. Moreover, his new Mistress proving big with Child, he provided for her Lying in, with so much privacy, that no body at Court knew any thing of it. The Prince that she brought into the World, was Christened Henry, and under the ensuing Reigns, was Grand Prior of France, and Governor of Provence.  
The King that he might show his activity to Mrs. Hamilton, for whom his Passion was much increased, since she had brought him a Son, would needs make one in the Tournaments that were prepared in Honour of the Nuptials of Elisabeth the King's Daughter, with Philip II. which was a Match concluded in pursuance of the Treaty of Chateau Cambresis. Toward the end of the third Day, which was the 30th. of June, 1559, the King who had already broken several Lances with good success, would needs Tilt with his Beaver up, against the Count of Montgomery, the Son of Lorge, Captain of the Guards of his Body. The Count did all be could to excuse himself, but he was at last constrained to obey his Master; and that Course proved so unfortunate, that Montgomery's Lance being broken into shivers, the Truncheon that remained in his hand, struck the King above the Brow of the right Eye, with that terrible force, that the King fell to the ground, without either Motion or Sense; in which condition they carried him to his Bed, and notwithstanding all the remedies they could apply to him for eleven days together that Life remained in him, they could never recover his Speech; and in that manner he expired.   

Intrigues of the Court of France under the Reign of Francis I.  
WHen Queen Catherine de Medicis saw that her Husband was mortally wounded, she consulted with her Confidents whether it were her best way to close with the Constable, or the Guises. For she looked as well upon the one as the other to be her Enemies, in regard they were equally allied to the Duchess of Valentinois, whom she mortally, hated, though while the King lived, she carried it very fair with her. At last she resolved to unite with the Guises, because they were the Queen her Daughter-in-Law's Uncles, and for that, sometime they had carried themselves but very coldly toward the Duchess. The Constable being informed of this Union dispatched a Courier to Anthony of Bourbon, King of Navarr, giving him an invitation to the Court, there to assume the degree and Authority, which his Birth allowed him. But the King, who was afraid lest the Spaniards should possess themselves of his Kingdom, during his absence, remained in his irresolution so long, that the Queen and the Guises had leisure to form their Cabal, to remove such persons as they suspected, and fill up the principal offices with their own Creatures. The Duke of Guise had the Command of the Armies, and the Cardinal the management of the Treasury, The Duchess of Valentinois was banished, and forced to restore the Jewels and costly moveables that Henry II. had given her, and more than all this, they took from her the noble House of Chenonceaux, which the Queen Mother would needs have for herself, giving her in Exchange, the Castle of Chaumont upon the Loire. Bertrandi was deprived of the Seals, which were restored to the Chancellor Olivier, and he himself resettled as the Head of the Law, in all the functions of his Office. The Constable had Orders to retire to his House of Escovan, and the Cardinal of Tournon was recalled. The Duchess of Valentinois made herself amends for her misfortune with Brissac's company, who continued faithful to her, and being reconciled to the Guises, prevented her being any farther persecuted. But the King, being arrived at Orleans, after twelve Days Sickness died, not without some suspicion of being poisoned, in the Eighteenth Month of his Reign; which gave occasion to new Intrigues.   

The Intrigues of the Court of France under Charles IX.  
year 1560 THere was great bustling and contending at Court for the Regency, during the Minority of Charles IX. but at last Queen Katherine obtained it, and enforced the King of Navarr, to be contented with the lieutenancy General of the Kingdom. The Queen Mother was a refined Politian, and one who thought she might make use of illegal, as well as legal ways, so she might Reign. She was magnificent in all her actions, and loved all manner of divertisements, which she made subservient to her Ambitious designs. During the troubles that turmoiled the State, the same Wagons that carried the Warlike Ammunition, carried the Accoutrements for Balls and Masquerades. By these Artifices it was that she retained the Young Courtiers about her, who finding, in their attendance upon her pleasures, conformable to their Ages, and their inclinations, and Charmed with the beauty of her Maids of Honour, generally preferred her part before others that were set up in contempt of the Royal Authority. The Court was then divided into two Factions, Huguenots and zealous Catholics. Lewis Prince of Conde headed the first, and the Guises governed the second. The King of Navarr, the Constable, and the Marshal de St. Andrè, seemed to make a third party, and the Queen's aim was to preserve the Authority, which the Regency gave her, by dividing and balancing these three cabals, in such a manner, that the one should not oppress the other two. The third party, which was usually called the Triumvirate, seemed to her to be most powerful, and she made use of the Duchess of Valentinois to divide the King of Navarr and the Constable, for fear least being united, they should leave her no more than the shadow of Government. And the Duchess undertook it so much the more willingly, because her Interests agreed best with the Queen's She feigned as if she had suffered herself to be overruled by the tears of her eldest Daughter, and the submissions of the Duke of Aumale her Son in Law, to reconcile herself and renew her good correspondence with the House of Guise, which had abandoned her to the mercy of her Enemies: and the Court took this reunion for an effect of Heroic. Virtue, thaô indeed an indispensable necessity was the only motive that induced her to it. The Duchess had both Wit and experience enough to Judge, that 'twas impossible for her to preserve the vast wealth which she enjoyed, but by the support of the House of Guise, which was not in a condition to hold up any long time, but by a reconciliation with the Constable: so that indeed the Duchess laboured for herself, while the Queen and the Duke of Aumale fancied to themselves, that she acted for them. In a word, she made such effectual use of the Authority which she had still over the Constable, that she accustomed him by degrees, not to look upon the Guises any longer, as his Enemies. Thus the Duchess maintained herself till she died in the same flourishing condition, wherein Henry II. had left her, no body daring to cross her any more, when they saw her have such potent protectors.  
But it was not enough for the Queen to have broken the Triumvirate: it behoved her also, that she might get all the power into her hands, to fasten to her Interests the two Princes of the House of Bourbon. And in regard she knew that Love was the most powerful engine to move the inclinations of that Age, she made use of the Charms of her Maids of Honour to bring about her design. The two most amiable were, Mademoiselle du Rovet, the Daughter of Lewis de la Berandiere de Guiche, Lord of the Island of Rovet in Poitou, and Mademoiselle de Limueil. The first undertook the Conquest of the King of Navarr, and the second to subdue the Prince of Condè. To that purpose, M. de Rovet, wherever she came, spoke so highly in praise of the King of Navarr, that she infused into him a long desire to know who it was that so much obliged him with her encomiums in all companies. Mademoiselle de Limueil, on the otherside, said nothing that could reflect upon the reputation of the Prince of Condè, but still she gave out every where, that he should be the last Man that she should make choice of for a Lover: because he was naturally unconstant, and minding nothing so much as his Ambition, he could not condescend to those petty complaisancies that more frequently win upon the affections of Ladies, then great Services. The Prince of Condè, hearing of these discourses, thought himself bound in Honour to undeceive M. de Limueil, and by that means fell into her snare. The Queen at first had governed the King of Navarr by the Artifices of the Duchess of Montpensier, who had such an ascendant over him, that at Court she was called nothing but the Siren. The Queen was also beholding to this Duchess for causing the King to desist from his pretensions to the Regency, and content himself with the shadow of Authority, in accepting the Lieutenancy General of the State, that she might enjoy the substance. In vain his Friends remonstrated to him, that he should want neither Counsel nor power to force obedience to himself; but the Duchess of Montpensier's persuasions prevailed with him, beyond all the remonstrances of Mon moranci, Chatillon, the Calvinists, and the more clear sighted Catholics. But thó the Queen had been so well served by this Princess, she was afraid lest her Ambition should infuse into her a desire of sharing her Authority. And rather chose to make use of M. de Rovet, with whom the King of Navarr took delight to converse, after she declared herself to be so much Charmed with his Virtues. The King therefore quite tired with the long resistance which the Duchess' Virtue had made to his desires, thought he might quit her without being accused of inconstancy, that he might devote himself to a person, with whom in all probability he should better employ his assiduities and where he should meet with as much Wit and Beauty.  
year 1561 Some time after, Ambition had like to have broken off the intercourses of those two Ladies. For the Catholic King, by Manriquez, whom he sent to him on purpose, made a proposal to the King of Navarr, which upon a slight examination only, seemed very advantageous to him. The substance of it was, that he should put himself at the head of the zealous Catholics who were about to banish Calvinism out of France: that he should dissolve his Marriage with Joan d'Albret, under pretence of Heresy, and marry Mary Stuart, the wife of Francis II. who would bring him in Dowry the Crowns of England, Scotland and Ireland. M. de Roovet, Who was fallen in love with the King, while she only sought to entangle him in her snares, being informed of this Negotiation by d' Escars, one of her Favourites, was extremely alarumed at it. Thereupon she sought an opportunity to speak in private with the King of Navarr; and having met with one, she never left him, till she had made him promise her to send back Manriquez, without concluding upon any thing.  
But though the King of Navarr were prone enough of himself to do what she desired, and that he abhorred the proposal of a Divorce, he forbore not however to make M. de Rovet sensible of a valuable Sacrifice which he had made her of the fairest Queen in Europe, and drew a promise from her, that she would not refuse the requests of his Love. So that now there wanted nothing but to find out opportunities, which it was no difficult thing to meet with. For the Court being then at Fontain-bleau, the same Evening he bestowed a Consort of Violins upon the Ladies near the Caval, and while they were busy in harkening to the Music, or else a Dancing, he went aside with M. de Rovet, and managed so well the favourable inclination to which he had prepared her, that she became big of a Prince, who was called Charles of Bourbon, and afterwards was made Archbishop of Roven. But the Prince of Coudè had not that great success with M. de Limevil. For as she had declared at first a dislike of that Prince's humour, she was obliged to observe certain outward formalities of disdain, and to make show of an indifferency, which however was far from real, the more to fire her Lover; which was the reason that it was less trouble to her Virtue to hold out so much the longer.  
These two Ladies, that lived together in perfect Union, were not a little troubled to see the two Brothers engaged in different Parties: while the eldest Brother commanded the Catholic, the youngest the Calvinist Army. The King of Navarr being wounded at the Siege of Roven, was carried into the City after it was taken, and was there frequently visited by M. du Rovet, and in regard their conversation was a little too vigorous, the King's wound festered to that degree, that it became mortal. The Queen Regent, seeing how little hopes there was of saving his life, admonished him to prepare himself for death: he took the advice of that Princess, and renouncing, all of a sudden, his inclinations both to Honour and Pleasure, he admitted no more visits from the Ladies, and declared to Chantonay, the Spanish Ambassador, and Brother of Cardinal Grandvelle, that he thought no farther of Sardigna, which the King of Spain offered him in exchange for Navarr. After he had confessed himself to the Official of Roven, and received both the Sacraments, he so earnestly desired to he carried down the River to his House at St. Maur, where the Air was incomparably much better than at Roven, that they were forced to transport him thither, and at first he seemed to be much better upon the water; but a cold Sweat that seized him at Andilli, enforcing him to make a stop there, he died the 7th of Octob. 1562. in the Two and fortieth year of his age, and delivered the Regent from her continual fears, lest he should change his Party. 'Twould be a difficult thing to express the extreme sorrow that overwhelmed Mademoiselle de Rovet, for the loss of a Prince whom she dearly loved, and by whom she was no less tenderly beloved, more especially being conscious to herself, that she had contributed to his death.  
year 1563 The next year the Queen Regent found a way to conclude a Peace with the Calvinists, and to draw the Prince of Condè to Court; where he was so well treated, that he forgot for some time his warlike humour. The Honours paid to the deceased King of Navarr, his Brother, to retain him in the Catholic party, were nothing in comparison of those that were conferred upon him, to bring him off from Calvinism. He was every Day with the Queen, who heaped civilities upon him. Nothing of importance was debated in Council, nor in any other place but in his presence: he generally obtained whatever he desired, and all occasions of giving him offence were carefully avoided. 'Twas not believed however that he suffered himself to be amused with promises, which he saw frustrated of their principal effect, since they delayed to give him the Lieutenancy General, of which the Queen had put him in hopes; for fear, as was given out, lest the Catholics, who were dissatisfied with the Peace, should take from thence the pretence they sought for to break it: but Love sided with the party, and seconded the Artifices of the Queen. For the Prince of Conde's passion for M. de Limueil was not quite extinguished, though it had lain dormant for some time as being benumbed by the fatigues of the War. The presence of the beloved object, having roused his Affection, he applied himself afresh to the Lady, and gave her such public proofs of his tenderness that the Princess his Wife, who could not be ignorant of it, sickened of jealousy and Died.  
The Regent intent upon all occasions that might conduce to confirm her Authority, looked upon this conjuncture as one of the most favourable that could have befallen her. She imagined that as the Chatillon's had engaged the Prince in Heresy, by the Marriage of their Niece, she might also bring him back to the Communion of the Church, by giving him for a second Wife, a Lady that had the Honour to be her kinswoman, whose Charms would put a stop to his inconstancy, and draw from his Lips the secrets of the Calvinists. To this purpose, she commanded the Lady to leave nothing omitted, upon that presupposition, to omit nothing that might contribute to detain the Prince in her Fetters. But to venture an indifferent virtue with a Lover who made use of the smallest advantages in Love, as in War, to carry things to extremity, was to expose it to too many hazards. While the Lady feigned an Affection for the Prince, she became enamoured in good earnest; and to her misfortune, she was not the only person at Court, that found her Heart insensibly engaged.  
Margaret de Lustrac the Widow of the Marshal de St. Andrè, was neither of a temper nor inclination to spend the remainder of her Life in Widowhood; nevertheless, she was engaged to it in some measure, by signing the Articles of the Marriage of her only Daughter with the Eldest Son of the Duke of Guise; seeing it was chief concluded consideration of the great Estate that she possessed; and for that the Marshal her Husband had been preserved from inevitable ruin. However, she was no sooner a Widow but she yielded to the usual temptation of persons of her Quality; so that she laid a design to marry again, and break off the Match between her Daughter and the Prince of Joinville. For which, that she might have a plausible pretence, and withal to cover what was irregular in her intentions, she feigned to seek out a more Honourable alliance for her Daughter, and cast her Eyes upon the Marquis of Conti, the Eldest Son of the Prince of Conde, with an intent to persuade the less discerning sort of People, that if she married the Prince, 'twas only to facilitate the union of their Children by her Marriage. But she could not have addressed herself more unluckily, considering how things stood with the Prince at that time. For though he had not had a kindness for Madam de Limueil; he would have preferred a Country Girl before the remains of the Marshal de St Andrè. However he did not explain his thoughts to the persons that propounded his Marriage with the Widow, as the only means to secure to his Son, the Marriage of St. Andrè's Heiress; he only replied, that the way did not seem to him to be so infallible, because the Marquis not being above nine Years of Age, and for that both the Nuptials could not be solemnised at the same time, the Marshaless, would be as her liberty, when she was become a Princess to break the Articles between her Daughter and the Marquis, with the same ease as she had broken her Covenants with the Prince of Joinville. The Marshaless informed of this obstacle, and taking no other advice but that of her own passion, offered the Prince a deed of gift of the manner of Valeri in Gatinois, and all the magnificent moveables with which the Marshal of St. Andrè had furnished it. 'Twas thought that by this piece of unpararalleled liberality, she thought to have fixed that levity of which she was suspected to be guilty, by disabling herself to refuse her Daughter to the Son of a Prince, to whom she would have given beforehand the best part of her Estate; and to have supplanted her Rivaless by the force of her Acts of kindness, since she could not do it by the power of her Charms. The present was accepted, without producing, however, the effect which the Marshalless expected from it: whither it were too great to be refused by a Prince, whose birth was nevertheless too spendidly exalted to engage him by the acceptance of it; or whither the Prince blamed in his own thoughts the prodigality of the Widow, at the same time that he made a benefit of it.  
Mademoiselle de Limueil made reflections remote from Truth upon an accident so rarely happening. She supposed the Prince less amorous or less concerned than he was; and imagined that since he had accepted the signiory of Valleri, he would have married the Marshalless. The suspipition of which increased to that degree, that not having an Estate sufficient to equal the liberality of her Rivalless, she took a fancy to surpass it by granting the Prince the dearest Jewel she had in the World. And her big Belly that soon attended the fault the had committed, made it so public, that she was forced to withdraw from the Court. The Queen caused her to be conducted by a Valet de Chambre, whose name was Gentil, to the Convent of Franciscans in the City of Auxonne.  
This banishment of M. de Limueil was not the only punishment of her incontinency. For the Prince equally touched with disdain as well of a Widow who had aspired to an Alliance with him, as of a Young Lady that sought to gain him by an over passionate submission, neglected both the one and the other, to marry Francese of Orleans, the Duke of Longuevilles Sister; a haughty Princess, and of an austere Virtue. Such a difference he put between the dispositions of those Women which he desired for his Wives, and those which he sought for his Mistresses. Mademoiselle de Limueil after the was brought to Bed, endeavoured to repair the loss of her high hopes by marrying Geoffrey de Causac, Lord of Tremon, who had been a long time an humble servant of hers, but had been neglected by her ever since her Intrigue with the Prince of Condè. Nor was Mademoiselle the Rohan better treated by the Duke of Nemours: she had granted him the same favours, upon a promise of Marriage, in the Reign of Henry II. But the Prince, to avoid the performance of his word, went to serve in Piedmont against the Duke of Savoy; nor did he return into France till the beginning of the Reign of Charles the IX. at which time he threw himself into the Cabal of the Guises; and so frequently visited the Duke's Wife, that he could no longer remain insensible of her Charms. Nevertheless he durst not discover his passion to her, such was the awe that her Virtue had upon him. However in regard it is as difficult a thing to hid Love as to conceal Fire, M de Rohan was informed of his infidelity, and resolving revenge, she sued him upon his promise. He pleaded her profession of the pretended Protestant Religion, and having obtained from the Pope a nullity of the Engagements he had made her, He married the Widow of the Duke of Guise, who was Murdered by Poltrot before Orleans, some Months before.  
After Queen Katherine de Medicis had caused the majority of her Son to be declared by the Parliament of Roven, all the Court Ladies strove which should most powerfully enthral his Heart; but he delighted more in Hunting and other violent exercises, then in Courtship and making Love. Nevertheless one Day, Madam de Montpensier taxing him for his insensibility, he swore to her, that if once he went about to turn Coquet, he should so harass all the Ladies, that they would repent of having waked a sleeping Lyon. In a word, for some time he laid about him to the right and left, without ever engaging himself in any Intrigues. But sometime after going to Orleans, he spied a young Virgin, that came out of curiosity to see him at Dinner, and having enquired who she was, he learned that her name was Marie Touchet, an Apothecary's Daughter i'the Town. Thereupon, he commanded lafoy Tour, Master of the Wardrobe to talk to her, and to persuade her to come to his Chamber. La Tour with very little trouble succeeded in his Negotiation, and the next night brought Madam Touchet to the King, who obtained of her whatever he desired, though she had already engaged her Affection to Monlue, the Bishop of Valence's Brother, whom she could not forget neither, whatever marks she received of Charles the Ninths Love. The King requested Madam Margaret his Sister, to entertain her as her waiting Woman, that she might have some pretence to follow the Court. However he was forced to take her away from that Lady, when he returned to Paris, because she proved with Child: and he provided so well for her lying Inn, that she was brought to Bed of a Prince, who was called Charles by his Father's name, and honoured with the title of Count of Auvergne. But Madam Touchet for all this, kept a daily correspondence with Monlue, and frequently received Billet Douxes from him. The King being informed that she had put one of 'em up in her purse, invited a great many Ladies to Supper, of which number was his faithless Mistress. Withal he commanded the Captain of a Company of Gypsies to bring along with him about a dozen of the most exquisite Cutpurses he could pick out of the whole gang, to cut all the Lady's purses while they were Eating, and faithfully to bring 'em all to him at his going to Bed. When the Meat was upon the Table, he placed Madam Touchet next to himself, for fear she should make away the Billet, which be had a mind to have. The Cutpurses did their business exactly, and la Chambre failed not to carry to the King all the booty according to order. The King had no great trouble to distinguish his Mistress' purse from the rest, and therefore opening it in very great haste, found there the Billet already mentioned. The next Day he showed it his disloyal Minioness, who disowned it was directed to her, because there was no Superscription; burr she could not disavow several other things that were in the Purse, together with the Billet; so that having no other course to take, she confessed her fault, and begged pardon. The King also promised to think no more of it, provided she had no more to do with Monlue, and to separate her the more certainly from him, His Majesty Married her to Balzac d'Entragues, Bailiff of Orleans. Some time after, the discourse was very hot, about marrying the King to Elizabeth of Austria, the Emperor Ferdinand's Daughter. Madam d'Entragues, having seen her Picture, consulted her Looking-glass, and then told one of her Maids that stood by her, that 'twas the least of her fears, that ever that Princess would rob her of the King's Affection: and indeed he loved her to his Dying Day, tho' he had a great respect for the Queen his Wife.  
The King was extremely haughty and could not brook the ambition of the Duke of Guise▪ He took it heinously when he understood that the Duke had been so bold as to aspire to Madam Margaret his Sister, as also to make her a formal Declaration of his Love. So that in the first transports of his wrath, he ordered the Grand Prior, the Son of Hen. II. and Madam Hamilton, to stab the insolent Pretender. Of which, the Duke being informed by Madam d'Entragues, avoided the Hunting match, which was appointed on purpose for the execution of the design that was laid against his life. And to let the King know that he was not guilty of the crime that was laid to his charge, by the advice of his Mother, he married Katherine of Cleves, the Widow of Prince Portiano, and by that means assuaged his Master's anger. In the mean time he endeavoured to secure to himself the protection of the Duke of Anjou; and the better to gain his good Will, he offered to be serviceable to him in his passion for the Princess of Condè, his Sister-in-law. So violent was the Duke of Anjou's love for that Princess, that he was very near refusing the Crown of Poland, as not enduring a removal from her. However, he endeavoured to cure himself by seeking other divertisements, and made his applications to Madam Chasteauneuf, one of the Queen Mother's Maids of Honour, who did not long withstand his importunities: and in regard she perceived herself to be not the sole Mistress of his Heart, she made no scruple to engage herself in an Intrigue with Lignerolet, the Duke's Favourite. But Ligneroles, s who devoted himself to her only out of vanity, was so indiscreet as to boast to his Master of his good Fortune, and received the punishment which his insolence deserved, being stabbed be Villequier, by the Duke's Order. They who were ignorant of this circumstance, ascribed his death to his indiscretion, in talking of the Massacre that was to be made of the Huguenots upon St. Bartholomews' day, which his Master had revealed to him, but certain it is, that the Duke had no other aim then to punish the Vainglory of his Favourite. The Duke finding that the Princess of Condè's Virtue was not to be stirred, set forward at length for Poland, where they would fain have married him to Ann Jaqueline, the Daughter of the last King. But the news that he received in a short time after, of the death of Chales IX. obliged him to quit his new Subjects, and return into France. The King, at the very last minutes of his life, could not forget Madam d'Entragues; but ordered La Tour to tell her, that nothing grieved him so much, as that death had snatched him from her, before he had done any thing for her to advance her Fortune.   
The End of the First Part.   

INTEAGUES OF THE Court of FRANCE, Under the Reign of HENRY III. PART II.  

Anno 1574.  NEither Fame nor Absence could extinguish that Love which Henry III. had conceived in his Heart for the Princess of Conde, and in regard he was assured that he should not obtain any favour from her, but by lawful means, he endeavoured to persuade her to consent that he should dissolve his Marriage, under pretence that his Wife was a Heretic, not doubting but he should easily obtain his desires at Rome. The Queen Mother having notice of the King her Son s design, was extremely alarmed at it, afraid, lest if the Princess of Conde, who was an Ambitious Woman, and one that had a Genius above the common sort, should come to be Queen, she would altogether govern the King, and be mistress of all that authority which she had acquired in his Councils. Therefore to send off this blow, she set all the most charming Ladies of the Court at work to inveigle her Sons affections. Mademoiselle de Chateauncuf amused him for some time, but was obliged to give way to Mademoiselle de E●●o●●f, who neither had the happiness to retain him long fettered in her Chains. Madam de Sauve, the Secretary of State's Widow was she that triumphed at last over all the Rivalesses: The King gave himself solely up to Her; but the engagement was not reciprocal, because she lov d the King of Navarr. Their Intrigue first began, while Navarr and the Duke of Alenson were Prisoners together, and Madam de Sauve was wont to go and bear 'em company, merely to divert 'em, and alleviate the vexations of their imprisonment. These two Princess fell equally in love with her; but she had not the same kind sentiments for both. She hated the Duke of Alenson, but she made favouraable returns to the tender addresses of the King of Navarr. When that Prince was set at liberty, the interests of the Party that acknowledged him for their Head, obliged to absent himself from his Mistress, but his absence nothing abated the Passion which she had kindled in his heart, nor did she omit any opportunity to let him understand that she was still the same, when Henry III began to cast an eye of Favour upon her. But she made no other use of his complacency, then to second the Queen Mother's design, which was to revive in his heart that tenderness which he had formerly had for Mademoiselle de Vaudemont, and to persuade him to seat her by him upon the Throne. But this was not all, for 〈◊〉, more powerful reason overruled Madam de Sauve to infuse into him the same sentiments. The Duke of Guise was become an enamoured Servant of hers, and had insensibly banished from his heart the tenderness which he had for the Queen of Navarr; and she thought to do him a great piece of service, by advancing his Kinswoman to that high degree of honour, which would oblige him to love her the more. And the death of the Princess of Conde which happened about the same time, gave Madam de Sauve a fair opportunity to engage him with Mademoiselle de Vaudemont. The King saw her as he was going to be Crowned at Rheims, and finding in her face the same Allurements that had formerly charmed him, he resolved at length to marry her.  
Francis of Luxemburgh, of the House of Brienne, had made his addresses to her, before the Lorraine Princes had any hopes of making her Queen. Henry III. who knew it, had a desire to marry him to Mademoiselle de Chasteauneuf, and whether he thought it became him to take care of the Fortune of a Person whom he had once loved, or that he took some kind of Pleasure to change Mistresses with Luxemburgh, he proposed it to him upon his Coronation Day: To which the Lord made answer, that he had so great a value for whatever concerned the Queen, that he could but be highly overjoyed at the advantage which fortune had procured her, and that he applauded her for having made so happy a change of her Lover. But in regard there was not so much to be got by him in marrying Mademoiselle de Chasteauneuf, he besought his Majesty to allow him time to consider. The King replied, that it was not for him to hesitate upon what he had proproposed to him, and therefore he expected to be forthwith obeyed. Luxemburgh finding himself so vigorously pressed upon, desired eight days to prepare himself, and obtained three, which served him to find a way to quit the Court, and retire in a place where he might shelter himself from the King's displeasure. Nor did the King, whose first transports were only to be feared, think any more of him▪ after he was once got out of his sight. The pleasures which he tasted in his conversation with the Queen put Luxemburghs disobedience quite out of his mind: For he had so much complacency for that Princess, that he acted the person of a Lover, rather than of a Husbahd in her company. Now in regard that Age was an Age of Licetiousness, several Lampoons were made upon all these passages, that would not have been endured at another time; and as they had also a great veneration for the Queen Mother an Edict was made in railliery against Faithless Lovers, which began in these words, Henry, by the Grace of God, unprofitable King of France, and imaginary King of Poland; Turn●●y of the Louvre; Churchwarden of St. Germane de Lauxerrois, Son in Law to Colas, First Valet of his Wife's Chamber, Pedlar of the Palace, Gaurdian of Four-Beggars, Protector of Penitents and Capuchins.  
By this satire it may be seen, that the King affected to appear devout in public, but in private abandoned himself to all manner of voluptuous sensuality, without any moderation; and the Queen-mother was so far from restraining him, that she indulged him in his humours, that she might have the greater share in the Government. One day he gave a great Entertainment at Che●●nceaux, where the Ladies appeared like Nymphs, half naked to their Wastes, and with their hair dishevelled about their Shoulders. Not long after the King went in Masquerade to Hostel de Guise, where the Duke presented the Company with a Ball, to honour the Nuptials of Mademoiselle Marcel with the Baron de V●er●e●, and where the confusion and disorder was so great, that the Candles were blown out, and the Chastity of the Ladies suffered no small detriment in the Dark. The King also, to make himself popular, frequently went to divertise himself among the men of the Long Robe, especially to the Precedent Boncharts House, whither he was drawn by Mademoiselle de Bussy, his Daughter-in-Law.  
All the Courtiers, in imitation of their Master, thought of nothing but making love: and knowing well, that wild passion never seeks after equality, but makes all equal, they addressed their vows to persons as well superior as inferior to 'em in Rank and Dignity, never considering the consequences of such ill concerted Intrigues. St. Megrin, a Gascoine Gentleman, had the confidence to make choice of the Duchess of Guise for the Object of his Tenderness, and was well received. But notwithstanding all the caution he had taken to conceal his Amorous Commerce, he was discovered, and it cost him his Life. One evening returning from the Lo●●●re at eleven a Clock at Night, thirty men in Vizards fell upon him in the Street St. Honore, stabbed him in a thousand places, and laid him dead upon the Stones, where he expired soon after. The King caused his Body to be carried to 〈◊〉 House ne'er the Bastille, from whence he was born in great Pomp to St. Prides' Church, and there buried. But there was no pursuit after the Murderers, because the Duke of Ma●● was known to be at the Head of 'em▪ and for that the King was not ignorant that St. Megrin had drawn that misfortune upon himself by his own imprudence, though his Majesty was wont to make him a familiar Companion of his Pleasures. Nor was Bussy d●Am●oise, the Duke of Alenson's Favourite more happy then St. Megrin. He loved Mademoiselle de Manteran, for though he had engaged himself in a strict Intrigue, and private enough too with that Lady, by the means of the Lieutenant Criminal of Saumur, his Confident, who took care to manage their Randevo●zes; whither she thought by such an act to conceal the dishonour of her miscarriage, of whither she began to disgust her Lover. However she sent for Bussy to meet her in her Castle, where she would be alone, but as soon as he was arrived there▪ the Marquis of Montera● who kept himself private in the next Room, fell upon him, with ten more of his Friends. Bussy, who was stout and brave, defended himself like a Lion, while his Sword was whole, but when they had broken it, he threw a way the Hil●, and with Barrs and Stools, such as he could lay hands on, wounded three or four of his Enemies. When he had nothing to defend himself, he bethought himself of taking his Heels, and as he was preparing of leap out of the Window, he received a mortal wound, which laid him weltering upon the Floor. The Duke of A●●nson was no way concerned for his death, because his excessive Pride and Vanity had disgusted him.  
Some months after, there was great rejoying at Court upon the Marriage of the Queen's Sister Mademoiselle de Vaudemont with d'Argues, whom the King had made Duke of Joyeuse. All the Ladies made their appearances in the place most magnificently adorned; there were Masquerades, Balls, Run at the Ring and Tournaments. Ransard and Baif had each of 'em a thousand Crowns a piece for Epithalamiums and Verses upon the Subject of that Festival. All the Princes, to collogue with the King, treated the new married Couple, every one in their turn. The Cardinal of Bourbon, who lodged in the Abbey of St. Germane, prepared a great entertainment in that place the 10th of October 1581. He had ordered a most stately Gallery to be erected for their Majesties to pass to the Pre aux Clerc●● It was to have been drawn by four and twenty small Boats, that were to have been covered with painted Skins, which were to have made 'em appear at a distance like so many Sea Mousters; and they were to have carried Trumpets, Hautboys and Violins, which were to have founded and struck up successively several Consorts of Warlike and Rural Music. But this Machine did not take effect. So that the King was forced to go in his Coach to the Abbey. But this defect was repaired by several other Gallantries; among which there was an Artificial Garden, adorned with all the beautiful products of the Spring, though it were in the depth of Winter. When the King treated the same Company at the Lovure, he caused a Ball to be danced, which represented the divertisements of Ceres and her Nymphs. This Ball was attented by a Carrousel, wherein the Horses trampled to the sound of several Instruments, and an Artificial Firework, which darted forth Rockets, that as they fell, formed the Cifers of the Duke and Dutches.  
The next year, upon Shrove Tuesday, the King ran in Masquerade till six a Clock the next morning, committing a thousand Follies. For which the Preachers taxed him in their Sermons with too much freedom. Henry the Third being offended at it, seal for Rose, a Doctor of the Sor●onne, who had declared against that Cavalcade, with more heat than any of the rest, nevertheless got off at the expense of a sight reprimand. For said the King to him, Doctor Rose, I have suffered you for these ten years together to r●n roaring about the Streets, and never said any thing to ye, yet here for one fegary at the end of the Carnaval, you have mangled my Reputation in your Sacred Pulpit, pray be more discreet another time and do so no more. The King was also so good natured, that sending for him again, within a few days after, he gave him four hundred Crowns, and asked him whither that ●●m would suffice to buy him Sugar enough to sweeten the bitterness of his Sermons.  
When Hen. III. took his Progress into Guyenne, the King of Navarr, who went to meet him at Bourdeaux, entered into an acquaintance there with the Countess of G●iche, the Widow of Philibert, Count of Gramont, who was Slain at the Siege of la Fere. He found her very Amiable, and paid her several visits, during his stay in that Province, and her company made him a mends for the infiedlity of Madam de Sauve. For he found her altogether as sensible of his affection as his first Mistress when he parted from Bourbeaux, and besought her not to take it amiss, if he ●et her hear from him by Parabese, whom he had taken into his Service, and whose Sister, who was one of the same Province, was one of his great Friends. The Countess was overjoyed at her having an opportunity to keep a correspondence with the King of Navarr, and continued it till he came to the Crown. As for Henry III. most certain it is, that notwithstanding these irregularities of his youth, his Subjects would have lived happily under his Reign, had he not found 'em divided into two Factions, extremely exasperated one against the other, when he succeeded his Brother. For he was Courageous, Eloquent, and Liberal even to profusion▪ he loved men of Merit, and was so naturally inclined to mildness, that 'twas always a Grief to him when he punished.  

Intrigues of the Court of France, under the Reign of Hen. IU.  
THE first Person to wh●m over He●ry IV▪ gave any mark of his affection, 〈◊〉 Antonetta de Pon●, Marchiones● of G●er●● 〈◊〉 Widow of Henry de Silly, Count of Ro●●●●guyen. He saw her in Normandy, and fell so passionately in love with her, that he altogether forgot the Countess of Guich●, 〈◊〉 whom nevertheless he had always a high esteem, and never refu●'d 〈◊〉 any Kindness when it lay in his Power. There was 〈◊〉 difference between those two Ladies, tha● the first was a Country Lady that had never been at Court and that the se●ond had all the delicacy of Wit and Conversation, which usually distinguishes persons of the Highest Quality from others. The King found the Marchioness more reluctant than he imagined, and was so far from offering her any violence, that he was so charmed with her Beauty, that he had some thoughts to have ma●●● d her. But the cares of the War e●●orcing him to absent himself from her, long absence abated his Passion, and suffered him to be surprised by the Charms of another Beauty. While he was taken up with the Siege of Paris, Ma●●● de Beauvilliers, Daughter to the Count of St. Agnan, and Abbess of Montmartre, sent to him for a safe conduct, which he granted after a most obliging manner. She came to return him thanks, and made her addresses so Gracefully, that being a Woman of a comely Presence, he could not consent that she should be locked up in a Convent. But being obliged in a short time after to raise his Siege, he ordered her to be conducted to Senlis, which was under his obedience, where he paid her those respects and sedulities of which she could not be insensible. She had been cloistered by force, and for the private interest of the Family, and she looked upon the affection of the Prince as a kindness of Fortune to release her out of Prison. But though the King were extremely devoted to her, yet could he not forget Madam de Guercheville, and knowing her deserts, he resolved to make her amends for the loss of his heart, by helping her to a Husband, upon whom he might heap his Favours. He cast his eye upon Charles du P●essis, Lord of Liancourt, in whose favour he wrote to the Marchionoss, and so soon as he had married her, he gave him the Employment of Grand Squire  
One evening, the King discoursing of the Beauty of the Court Ladies; cried ●p extremely the Abbess of Montmartre, and said more over, that he never saw a person so charming. Upon which the Duke of Bellegard the present, told him that he would soon be of another opinion, if once he saw Mademo●selle d'Estrees, and made him so lively a description of her Beauty, that the King had a great desire to be acquainted with her. Some days after the Court removed to Mante, where the King divertised himself extremely with the Ladies of the neighbourhood, but Mademoiselle d'Estrees never appeared. After that, he went to Senlis to visit his Admirable Abbess, where he gave here all the divertisments, that his small stay would admit him to prepare for her.  
When he returned to Mante, the Duke of Bellegarde begged leave of his Majesty, that he might go to Coevures, where Gabriella d' Estrees then resided, with whom he was deeply in love, and for whose sake he had quitted Madam d'Humieres, though she had taken great care of him during a sickness that had held him for some time at Mante, and had also sacraficed for his sake the Admiral de Villars, who had left nothing omitted to gain her affections. However, the King would not suffer him to take his journey, but upon condition that he might go a long with him. Bellegard would have been glad to have been rid of such a Companion, but in regard it became him not to dispute with his Master, he was constrained to take the King along with him, and which was more, had the misfortune to see that his Sovereign found her much more amiable than he had imagined her to be. The King engaged her to come to Ma●te, where she made a new Conquest, and deprived Madam de Humieres of a Lover, that is to say, of Henry of Orleans, Duke of Langueville. That Prince, who had endeavoured to cheer up her heart for the loss of the Duke of Bellegard, proved as unfaithful as he, and went to dash himself against the same Rock, leaving nothing omitted to gain the affection of Mademoiselle d'Estrees, during the King's absence, who was forced to take the Field to complete the ruin of the Leaguers, and was detained in Action longer than he expected. Upon his return, he applied himself more sedulously to Mademoiselle d'Estrees then ever, and declare d openly, in the tone of a Master, that he would have no Companion. If the Duke Of Longueville were not a little disconsolate, Bellegard was much more, who was to renounce a Heart of which he had been in possession, whereas Longueville built upon a foundation of ill grounded hopes. Nevertheless he promised obedience, and contented himself with expressing himself to his Mistress after so sensible a manner, that she could not forbear to share in his grief. But she was not so moderate herself: for she flew out against the King, and told him with an extraordinary resolution, that she would be free in her inclinations, and that he would but incur her Hatred, if he hindered her from marrying Bellegard, which was a match that had been agreed upon with the goodliking of her Relations. She also departed from M●nte without taking her leave, and returned to Coevures.  
Her Anger and her departure equally afflicted the King, and he resolved to make use of the greatest Submission that might be to gain her Favour. The main difficulty was which way to get to Coevures, in regard he was to travel seven Leagues in the Enemy's Country: nor could he march with a numerous Convoy, without making his Passion known, and giving his Mistress a new occasion of Distaste; so that he ran a great Hazard with a few Men, For that the Country was covered with the Enemy's Forces, and there was a necessity for him to cross a very dangerous Forest. However he took the last Resolution, love causing him to shut his Eyes against all other considerations. Thereupon he got a Horseback with five or six of his Officers in whom he most confided, whom he dismissed when he came within three Leagues of the Castle of Coevures; and when he was alone, he alighted, disguised himself in the Habit of a Peasant, and taking a sack full of Straw upon his back, trud'g on with his Burden till he came to his journey's end. Mademoiselle d' Estrees, who together with her Sister Madam de Villars stood at the Window of a Gallery, that over looked the Country, saw the Countryman at a distance, but never dreaming of such a Fantastic adventure, ne'er examined his Face. When the King came into the Court of the Castle, he threw down his Burden, and going directly up Stairs, without taking notice of any body, to the place where he had seen her stand who was the cause of his Disguise, he accosted her after a most submissive manner. But he surprised her extremely, when she perceived him in a Garb so little conformable to his dignity, and far from being obliged to him for what he had done for her sake, she received him with a disdainful look, which was more suitable to the Habit which he wore, than the Luster of his Birth. So strangely does hatred Impoyson the most Heroic Actions. Had Bellegard done as much for her sake, she would have valued it at a high Rate, because she loved him; but she took it ill at the King's Hands, because she had no kindness for him. She bid him with a Scornful Air go and shift his  if he intended to stay with Her, and so somewhat rudely fling out of the Room, leaving her Sister to excuse her incivility.  
While the King took this unprofitable Journney, the whole Court was in a strange disorder; nor did they come to themselves till the King's return dispersed all their fears He stayed not at all at Coevures, finding it in vain to tarry, since he could not oblige Mademoiselle d' Estrees to show him the least Favour. However he appeared for some time with such a Melancholy Countenance, that they who saw him so disconsolate, thought verily he had lost the half of his Kingdom. But coming at length too himself, he applied himself to Public business, as he was wont to do: yet not being able to banish from his Heart the ungrateful Mademoiselle d' Estrees, he sent word to her Father that 'twas his pleasure to admit him into his Privy Council, on purpose to oblige him to come to Mante with his whole Family. The favour's which were bestowed upon the Father obliged the Daughter to use the King a little more civility. But in regard he was obliged to be every hour on Horseback, either to execute some Enterprise upon his Enemies, or to prevent their Designs, he could not be constantly with her.  
During the King's Absence, Mademoiselle d' Estrees continued her Familiarity with Bellegard: nor did she surcease giving an Ear to the Duke of Longueville, nor to write to him, not to receive Letters from him. But as soon as the King had appeased the Troubles of his Kingdom, he removed all his Rivals. The Duke of Longueville sacrificing his Love to the Care of his Fortune, desired his Mistress to put an end to an Intrigue, which could not but be attended with unluckey Consequences, and inconvenient as well for the one as the other: he also demanded his own Letter's, and offered to return those which she had written, Mademoiselle d' Estrees was nothing troubls d to consent to this Rupture, and appointed the place where to make the exchange. And indeed she was very sincere in bringing all the Letters which she had received from the Duke: but the Duke was not so ingenious as to bring all the Letters she had written to him, but kept the most tender, by that same pledge to keep her as it were under a kind of dependency. But she was extremely incensed at his perfidiousness, and to revenge he self did the Duke of Langueville so many ill Offices with the King, that finding the Court a place where he received nothing but new Affronts every day, he engaged himself in a treasonable League, and was slain making his entry into dourlan's with a Musket from a Volley of Honour that was given him by the Garrison. Some there were who accused Madam d' Estrees to have hired a Soldier to take away his Life, who made use of that opportunity; nor was it without some probability.  
But notwithstanding all the care which the King took to oblige the Marquis de Coevures by his Favours, he could not win him to like well his sedulities to his Daughter, fearing lest she should complete the dishonour of his Family, of which the Marchioness his Wife had already began to slain the reputation. For she like a shameless Woman had followed the Marquis d' Allegre into Auvergne, and there liv d with him in a public Concubinage, not minding the scandal, or what the world said of her. The Marquis therefore fearing lest it should be laid to his charge if Madam d' Estrees should come to lead a Licentious Life, resolved to marry her, to free himself from the trouble of keeping a watch upon her Actions; and for a Husband, he made choice of Nicholas Damarsal, Lord of Liancourt, a Gentleman of an Illustrious descent, and who had a great Estate, but whose mind and disposition were as crooked as his Body. Madam d' Estrees was well informed of all his defects, however she consented to the marriage, to free herself from the Tyranny of her Father, upon the King's word, that he would never permit the Marriage to be consummated. But the King being engaged in an Enterprise which held him longer than he expected, could not be present at the Nuptials. The new married Lady perceiving the fatal hour approach, wherein she was to be delivered to the Monster which her Father had made choice of for her Husband, and no Galaunt appearing to rescue her from the danger to which she was just ready to be exposed▪ after she had stormed a hundred times against his negligence, and sworn as many times to be revenged of him she prepared herself to bear the brunt with all the vigour she was capable to show. And finding she was to expect no other assistance but what her own resolution afforded her, she so well opposed her own reluctancy to the importunities of her Husband, that he could not engage her to go to bed with him that night. The next day he carried her home, in hopes he might more easily overcome her obstinacy, in a place where he was absolute Master. But she took along with her all her kindred that had been invited to the Nuptials, and retained 'em with her tell the King came to set her at liberty.  
Henry iv Being arrived at the next Village, sent for Liancourt to come to him, and the convenient Husband went immediately, taking his Wife along with him, in hopes of drawing some advantage for the raising of his fortune from the King's love for his Wife. But alas! the King without taking any notice of him, set forward in order to the Siege of Chartres. Madam de Liancourt went along with him, accompani d by her Sister, and one of her kinswomen. Tho Siege was long; which gave the King an opportunity to send for Elizabeth Babou to the Camp. She was the Wife of Francis de Escoubleau, Marquis of Sourdis, and Aunt to Gabriella d' Estrees; and the King was resolved to make use of her to be her Neices Governess. To very good purpose as it fell out: For the Marchioness who was greatly experienced in Amorous Affairs, gave her Niece such good instruction, that she became mistress of all the King's Affections by her Compliances, and obtained for the Marquis of Sourdis the Government of Chartres, after the place was taken.  
Hen. IU. Before his Intrigue with Mademoiselle d' Estrees, had persuaded Queen Margaret his Wife Sister to the three last Kings his Predecessors, but somewhat lose in her behaviour, to consent to a dissolution of their Marriage under certain conditions. Nay, the Queen herself was already retired to the Castle of usson in Auvergne, seated upon a steep Mountain, and to which she had added all the Fortifications that could render it Impregnable. But the King's Amour delayed the conclusion of this affair, as being afraid lest when he was at liberty, his Subjects should press him to Marry her; which he could not find in his heart to do, in regard it was not lawful for him, because she had a Husband. Under these circumstances, finding it impossible for him to have a Successor, he bethought himself of maraying Madam Catherine his Sister with a Prince of the Blood. With this design he sent for her to come to him; and going as far as the Loire to meet her, He presented the Duke of Montpensier to kiss her hand, whom he designed her for a Husband. The Princess gave him but a very cold reception, whither it were that she did not like his person, or that having already surrendered her heart to the Count of Soissons, she could not find room in her breast for another. She arrived at Dieppe, where she met with Madam Gabriella (for so was Mademoiselle d Estrees called after her Marriage) and the more she found her worthy of the Love which her Brother showed her, the more she hated her. She beheld her being in Favour with Envy, and to humble her, treated her with so much scorn and loftiness, that had it been any other person, 〈◊〉 could never have boar it. However Madam Gabriella complained of her contempt to the King, and besought him to part 'em. But all that the King could do to satisfy his Mistress, without disobliging his Sister, was to carry Madam Gabriella along with him wherever he marched to complete the Conquest of his Kingdom, and to leave his Sister at Dieppe Madam Gabriella, who seldom or never stirred from the King, began to inform herself in the management of Public Affairs, by the advice of Madam de Sourdis, and show d so quick a Penetration and Judgement in matters of the highest importance, that she procured to herself an entrance into the King's Counsels. Nor did the Chancellor Chinconi contribute a little to procure her that favour. He had conceived a most violent Passion for her, nor could he refrain from letting her understand it, notwithstanding the gravity which the dignity of his Office exacted from him; but doing himself that justice, as to be convinced that there was no such Charms in his Person that could engage Madam Gabriella to endure his Courtship, he had recourse to other means, and made himself useful to her, in giving her opportunities to satisfy her Ambition.  
But her extraordinary joy to see herself mounted to such a high degree of honour was somewhat allayed, by the news which she received of her Mother's death, who was massakered at Issoire in A●vergne, by the people that mutinied against her Lover the Marquis d' Allegre. But she endeavoured to repair that loss by her Correspondence with Bellegard, whom she met in Private, yet so warily that the King could never tax her of infidelity, though he had frequent jealousies, which she made a shift to dissipate with her Caresses, and her Protestations of being insensible to any but himself. Nevertheless, Fortune found away to discover this mystery, notwithstanding all the Precautions which those two Lovers took to avoied surprisal. The King having lain with Madam Gabriella one night, risen very early the next morning to execute some enterprise that he had in his thoughts, and left his Mistress a bed, where she lay under pretence of some little Indisposition; while Bellegard the better to conceal his Game, gave out that he was returned to Mante. But so soon as the King was gone, Arphure, a Confident of Madam Gabriella's, commonly called lafoy Rouse, introduced the Duke into a Cabinet, of which she herself had only the Key, and let him out again, so soon as her Mistress was rid of all such persons as were any way suspected to her. But while these two Lovers were tasting all the Pleasures, that a tender Passion could afford 'em, dreaming of no disaster, the King who missed his design returned, and by his hasty return put 'em into a strange Confusion. However a bad shift was better than none; Arphure presently slipped the Duke into her Cabinet, where she hide him at first, the Door of which was next the Bedside, and the Window looked into the Garden. The King had a mind to eat some Sweetmeats, and knowing that Arphure kept her Mistress' junkets in that Closet, he called for the Key. Madam Gabriella made answer that la Rousse had it in her Pocket, and that she was gone to visit a kinswoman of hers in the Town. Upon that, the King whose suspicions were but the more exasperated by such a refusal, threatened to break open the door and was going to work, though she complained that the noise would offend her Head. But the King who was resolved to be satisfied of his doubts, made as if he had not heard what Madam Gabriella said, and laid on with his Foot against the Door, that Bellegard finding he should be forced in his Sanctuary, thought it became him to venture Body and Soul to get out of the Briars; and therefore opening the Window out he got, and jumped into the Garden, though he thought it a little to dear to buy his Pleasure at the price of such Cat's leaps. But fortune happened to favour him so far that he got no harm by the fall; whether it were that the Ground were moist and yielding, or that this fear had disposed his body for the danger. Arphure, who stood Sentinal to see what would become of the business, no sooner beheld the Jump and the fair Escape, but in she comes, sweeting and wiping her face with her Handkerchief, and crying Lord, Madam, I never dreamt you would have had any occasion for me. With that the Crafty Confident opened the Closet, and gave the King what Sweetmeats he desired. But then surprised to find no body in the Closet, he concluded that Bellegard was become invisible, while Madam Gabriella emboldened by his astonishment, lay reproaching him, and deriding his jealousy at such a rate, that she made an absolute triumph of it. She told him, that surely his love began to cool, and that he only sought a pretence to be rid of her, but that she would not give him the advantage of quitting her first; for that she would even prove an honest Wife at length, and go home to her Husband. The King scared with these menaces, threw himself at her feet, begged her Pardon a thousand time, and promised never to have an ill thought of her more. Nor durst he for a long time after show the least mark of Jealousy, for fear she should in earnest take a whimsy so contrary to his Repose.  
While the Court was in this posture, the Duchess of Guise who stayed at Paris with the Heads of the League, sent to desire a Passport of the King, to go to one of her Houses in the Country, which the King granted freely, and also gave her leave to pass through the Town where he lay, Mademoiselle de Guise was glad of the Journey, not so much out of Curiosity, an Infirmity natural to persons of her Sex, as to  two opposite Passions. She loved Bellegard, and hated Madam Gabriella, because he was beloved by her. She had a mind to the one, in hopes to reingage him, and observe the other, in hopes to find out some way to be revenged of her. But for the better understanding of this intrigue, we must go a little backward for the beginning of this Story.  
While Paris was Besieged by the King's Army, there were frequent Truces, during which all the Courtly Cavaliers met by the sides of the Trenches, to discourse and entain the Ladies, who to that purpose appeared upon the Ramparts. Anna's d' Anglurre, Lord of Giury who was in love with Mademoiselle de Guise, still made her acquainted with it, or else did her some other Civility. But she never returned him any favourable answer, because she had some pretensions to the King's heart, who had desired her Picture, and testified an inclination to marry her, provided that Marriage would engage the Heads of the League to return to their obedience. These hopes of a Crown made her despise all those that durst declare themselves her Lovers. But she could not always keep in that haughty mind. One day Bellegard suffering himself to be hauled a long by some of his Friends to one of the most convenient Posts for conversing with the ●●dies, took notice of Mademoiselle de Guise, who appeared so amiable to him, that 〈◊〉 could not forbear fixing his eyes a long 〈◊〉 upon her. Nor was the Duchess insensible of it, and therefore explaining his staring upon her to her advantage, made no question of an absolute Victory over the Duke's Heart. She examined him afterwards herself, and finding him a person worthy to be beloved, she thought it might not be Impossible for her to comfort herself for the loss of those grandeurs to which she had aspired, provided she might spend the rest of her days with person for whom she had already so great an inclination. Bellegard had been accused to have contributed formery to the death the of the Duke of Guise, who was murdered at Blois, and Madam de Guise, who had been informed of it, represented Bellegard to herself as a person whom it behov d her to hate: but the more she incensed her heart to hate him, the less she found it disposed to obey her, but with a strange confusion found that her sentiments for him were quite of another sort. Thus Mother and Daughter fell both in love with a Person whom a thousand reasons supported by decency and point of honour, obliged to detest. Mademiselle de Guise well understood that her Mother was her Rivaless, and resolved to combat her growing passion, or at least to conceal the disorder it had made in her Breast. Bellegard on the other side, thought it behoved him to extinguish those thoughts of tenderness which he felt budding in his heart for Mademiselle de Guise, or at least to make as if he knew nothing of any such thing, for fear least Madam Gabriella, who had been the principal support of his fortune, should go about to ruin him, when she came to understand his unconstancy.  
He knew that Princess had been informed of the reports that ran about to his prejudice concerning the murder at Blois, and not being able to endure she should be his enemy, though he gave over all thoughts of being beloved by her, he employed some of his friends who kept good Correspondence in the House of Guise, to speak in his justification, as well to the Mother as to the Daughter. Those excuses were so well received that the Duchess declared to those that spoke in his behalf, that she never gave Credit to those Calumnies, and forbidden her Daughter to accuse the Duke, for the future, of being concerned in her Father's death. Nor did Mademoiselle de Guise show the least reluctancy to obey so pleasing a command: so agreeable to reason, and experience is the Proverb, that Love justifies all things.  
The Duchess' civilities put Billegard to a new non plus; he called to mind how Mademoiselle de Guise had answered his passionate looks, and judge d that it would not be impossible for him to be belov d by her. On the other side, he laid before himself what a fowl piece of ingratitude it would be, to fail in his Fidelity, to a Person that preferred him before a King, greater for his virtue then for the Throne to which his birth had advanced him. Nevertheless, though Reason, Ambition and Honour condemned his change, he could not find in his heart to extingish a Passion supported by such pleasing hopes: nor would he renounce either the one or the other of his Mistresses, but took a resolution to serve 'em both at the same time. With this design he thought it behov●d him to make the best of the Affection which the Duchess of Guise had for him: and to that purpose he frequently sent her Letters, or Messages, and always receiv●d obliging answers. The Duke of Guise having made his escape out of Prison, where he had been confined since the death of his Father, Bellegard, who knew it particularly, sent away a Trumpeter to congratulate him, and withal gave him two Letters to deliver to both the Princesses. The Trumpeter who understood his business, slipped into Mademoiselle de Guise's hand the Letter that was directed to her, unperceived by any body. And she, because she could not speak to the Messenger, as being too strictly observ●d, gave him to understand by an obliging sign, that his message no way displeased her. Of which Bellegard being informed by his Trumpeter, he received the news with as much joy as if some considerable happiness had befallen him.  
This was the condition of these three persons, when Madam d'ye Guise requested the Passport already mentioned. Bellegard therefore understanding that the Duchess was upon the Road, intending for Ma●te, persuaded the King to send some body to meet her, and obtained that permission himself. I shall say nothing of what passed at that interview: But 'tis easy to guests that the Mother let slip no favourable opportunity, to give the Duke a full understanding of her Passion, and that the Daughter answered the Duke's more passionate looks with glances no less tender, though her modesty somewhat eclipsed the vivacity of 'em. When the Duchess arrived at Court, she could not forbear praising Madam Gabriella's Beauty; but the Princess though she agreed in her thoughts to every thing her Mother said, could not find in her heart to applaud those Charms that disputed with her the possession of an Affection to which she had such great Pretensions. On the otherside, Madam Gabriella, after she had cast her eyes sometimes upon Bellegard, sometimes upon Mademoiselle de Guise, felt in herself a kind of secret vexation to find the Princess so lovely. So that the two Rivalesses showed as much coldness one for the other as it was possible for 'em to express, without failing in those Civilities which it behoved 'em to pay each other mutually, to avoid rudeness. More than that, Mademoiselle de Guise, being in the Circle toward Evening, told Bellegard, whom she perceiv d attending her Chair, after she had sometime considered Madam Gabriella, that she did not believe her so Beautiful as Fame had published her. To which the Duke durst return no answer, for fear of being overheard by his former Mistress, who was not far from him.  
The King who was informed of the love which the Duchess of Guise had for Bellegard, readily apprehended, that if he had any complaisance for her, 'twas only for fear lest she should perceive the Passion which he had for her Daughter. And this judgement which the King made of his Amours prov d two ways to the Duke's advantage. For it dissipated the jealous sentiments which the King had of Madam Gabriella, for whom he had a greater kindness than ever; and it made him utterly renounce his design of marrying Mademoiselle de Guise. So that Bellegard was at liberty to continue unmolested in his Intrigue with both his Mistresses.  
He would have been too happy, could he but have cured Madam Gabriella of her jealousy as well the King. But she was too quicksighted, and had too much interest to pry into his Conduct, to be so easily deceived. She was soon sensible of the Services which he paid to Mademoisselle de Guise, and the disgust she took would not permit her to taste the Pleasure which the King's credulity would otherwise have afforded her, if her thoughts had been more at liberty. Mademoiselle de Guise obseved in her turn the restlessness of Madam Gabriella, and whither it were that she thought by augumenting it, to oblige her to an absolute Repture with Bellegard, or that out of mere vanity she took delight to make known the Power of her Charms, she no longer kept herself within Bounds, but affected, before her Rivallessees face, to give the Duke all the marks of affection that could foment her Jealousy. 'Tis true, that she thought she did her no unjustice in depriving her of the Duke, since she had taken the King's heart from her. Nevertheless, things were not equal: For it is certain that Madam Gabriella would have renounced, with little trouble, all the interests of Fortune, provided she might have met with her satisfaction in point of Love.  
The Duchess of Guise, after she had stayed a day at Court, and obtained a Neutrality for the House where she desired to spend the Summer, took her leave of his Majesty. But Madam Gabriella could not pardon her Daughter, for the attempt she made upon her Lover's Heart: so that she would not see either the one or the other at their departure, under pretence of being indisposed. Bellegard, and the Chiefest part of the Grandees of the Court, attended her a great way, nor did they return till next morning. Madam Gabriella gave the Duke a very cold reception, which did not a little perplex him: for he knew well, that it would be a difficult thing to enter into so strict a Correspondence with Mademoiselle de Guise, so long as the War continu d: and that consideration made him fear the loss of his former Mistress, the satisfaction of whose company would make him some amends for the absence of his new Mistress. He upbraided himself with his own indiscretion, and he had sometimes the leisure to repent of his being unfaithful to little purpose. But if Bellegard felt a Tempest in his Breast, the Duchess of Guise enjoyed as little Tranquillity: She could not live remote from him who took up all her thoughts; and therefore, to remove all obstacles that kept her from his Company, she persuaded her Son to treat with the King; of which she gave advice to the King by a Courier sent on purpose. Hen. IU. who desired nothing so much as to bring back his Subjects to their Duty by acts of Mildness, especially this young Prince, for whom he had a value, and whom he knew to have a great interest among the Leaguers, accepted the Proposal, and made choice of Bellegard to negotiate with the Duchess. Of which Madam Gabriella having notice, she endeavoured to get another appointed in his Room, representing to the King, that the Duke was a young man without experience, who would never be able to carry on such an Employment; besides, that his Mediation would not be so pleasing to the Son as to the Mother. On the other side, Bellegard, who passionately desired to see his new Mistress Mademoiselle de Guise, made use of all his Credit with the D●ke of Neverse Precedent of the King's Council, to confirm the King in his first design. Nor did the Duke stand in need of much Eloquence to persuade the King to it: for inregard the King well knew that Madam Gabriella acted upon the account of jealousy, the same Passion hindered him from yielding to her Reasons.  
Well at length the Duke set forward; but his Journey proved not so successful as he promised to himself. For Paris being returned to her obedience, the King, who saw the Leagures Party utterly ruined refused to grant the Duke of Guise those Conditions which he demanded. However Bellegarde would not be discouraged, and being well seconded by the Duke of Nevers, he oblige d the King to grant the Duke of Guise a very advantageous accommodation. Which being concluded, the Duke came to kiss the King's hand at Mante, and was graciously receiv●d. Afterwards he went to Madam's Apartment, in whose eye he appeared so handsome that she thought she could do no less than prefer him before the Count of Soisson's.  
1596. Madam Gabriella finding that Bellegarde had made an accommodation for the Duke, would needs make another for the Duke of Main, in h●pes he might be useful to her in a design which she had to marry the King. To that purpose she caused an offer to be made him of her Service; and he promised to employed all the Credit of the League to advance her to the Throne. The first thing she did, was the obtaining leave for the Duke to retire to Chalon●, together with a General Truce for all his Party, and having gained the Precedent Jeannin, who by the King's order negotiated that Accommodation, she caused the King to pass a good number of Artic●o● that would have been very hardly admitted, without her recommendation.  
Sometime after the King set forward in order to besiege Laon: and during his absence Madam Gabriella was brought to ●ed of Caesar Duke of Vendosme. Of which when the King received the news at the Camp, he was pleas d to testify his joy for the Birth of a Son, by Creating his Mistress March●o less of Beaufort. Upon his Return, Madam Gabriella, laboured in good earnest to incline him to the Marriage which she desired. And because that in order to bring it to pass, there was a necessity of breaking the Contract which the King had made with Queen Margaret, she endeavour d to gain the Consent of that Princess. But they who spoke to her about it, found her no way disposed to give her consent, though for no other reason, but that she could not brook without disdain, to see that room which they would persuade her to quit, supplied by a person so much her Inferior. But though the Marchioness of Beaufort understood to her sorrow the ill success of that Negotiation, the new importunities of the Duke of Bellegarde made her amends for it, who felt his almost extinguished. Fires rekindleed by that augmentation of her Grandeur. He took care to justify himself, and was favourably heard; because people readily believe whatever they desire.  
Tho Bellegarde had made his peace with the Marchioness, he no less assiduously paid his services to Madamoiselle de Guise, and made her such frequent Visits, that her Brother began to take it amiss. But all this while that he blamed the Duke's Temerity, he committed the same error in reference to Madam, and spoke of him after so a disobliging a manner, that Bellegarde believing himself obliged to resent it, laboured to remove him from the Court. To that purpose, he gave the King to understand by the Duke of Nevers, that the Duke of Guise's Courting his Sister without his Permission, was a wounding of his Authority, and that it would be convenient to Banish him into some remote Province, under pretence of some Honourable Employment. It so fell out also, that the Government of Province was then vacant, and therefore the Marchioness of Beaufort begged it for him. Nor could the King refuse such a Boon to his Favourite and Mistress. So that the Duke of Guise had the Government conferred upon him before he was ware, and was constrained to departed, without having time hardly to take his leave of Madam.  
She, poor Princess, was strangely surprised when she heard that her Lover was removed from her, without any hopes of seeing him in a long time, in so much that she had not the power to bid him adieu. However she endeavoured to find out who had drawn this misfortune upon her, but not being able to discover any thing, after she had stormed for some days against her evil destiny, she suffered amends to be made her for that loss by John Lewis de Nogaret de la Valette, Duke of Espernon, and though he were neither so handsome nor so young as the Duke of Guise, she kept a good Correspondence with him till her Marriage with the Duke of Barr, with Whom she went to live in his own Territories, and by her departure delivered the Marchioness of Beaufort from a world of vexation, for being forced to pay many times ill received deferences to the Birth and Quality, rather than to the person of that Princess.  
Bellegarde on the other side, knew how to make the best advantage of the Marchiness of Beaufort's good. Humour, upon the departure of the Duchess of Barr, to dispose her to a reconciliation with Mademoiselle de Guise; he also wrought her to consent that he should marry that Princess, as being the only means to cure the King's Jealousy which began to revive again more and more every day. On the other side Madam de Guise put it forward as much as lay in her power, knowing the advantage of such a Match, at a time when the Marchioness of Beaufort disposed of all the King's Favours. From that time forward therefore those two Ladies perfectly understood one another, were never a sunder, and affected the same Habits and the same Dresses. Which reconciliation deceived the King to that degree, that he no longer suspected Bellegarde to have any familiarity with the Marchioness, and he had been the Lord knows how long wrapped up in that error, but for an unexpected accident that awakened all his suspicions at once. For Bellegarde one evening had written a very tender Billet to the Marchioness, which Arphure forgot under her Toylet, not having taken care to lock it up, by reason of some little indisposition of her Mistress. Now it so fell out that Peter. Beringhon, First Valet de Chambre to the King, going betimes in the morning by the King's order, to know how the Marchioness did, perceived the fatal Billet, took it up, and carried it to his Master. Upon that, the King commanded him to keep a vigilant watch upon those two Lovers, and Beringhon was so faithful in the discharge of his Trust, that seeing the Duke one Evening enter the Marchionesses Chamber, he gave the King notice of it, who presently commanded Charles de Choisul Marquis of Pralin, Captain of the Guards of his Body, to go and Stab that insolent Fellow in his Mistresses Arms.  
The Marquis was at his wits end to be charged with an order so rigorous against two Persons that had obliged him upon several occasions. However he obeyed, and passing through the Guard-hall, made a sign to five or six to follow him; but he went so far about and made such a noise, that when he came into the Chamber he found no body but the Marchioness alone, to whom he unfolded his Commission. The Marchioness took so kindly the Service he had done her, that she promised him never to forget it. And it was upon her recommendation and Mademoiselle de Guise's together, who was no less concerned in the preservation of Bellegarde, than the Marchioness, that Pralin obtained the Battoon of Marshal of France; and afterwards they wrought him so deeply into the King's favour, as thereby to raise him to that high degree of Fortune wherein he appeared toward the end of Henry the Greats Reign. In the mean time the Marchioness upbraided the King with his unjust suspicions; nor had the King any thing else to support the Transports of his Indignation, than the Letter that Beringhon brought him. But as to that, she swore that she never read it, and easily justified herself, because she had a Plenipotentiary Power to make her Credulous Lover believe whatever she pleased to impose upon him. So that there wanted nothing to complete the Cure of the King's jealousy, but her consent to Bellegarde's Banishment, who received an Order to departed the Court, and not to return, till he was married, and brought his Wife along with The Duke departed, and because it was impossible to stay long from the Mansion of Pleasure, he married Ann de Bevil, the Daughter of Honore de Bevil, Sister to Fontaine, who was slain at the Siege of St. Malo's when that City declared for the League. With her, he returned to Paris; but there he found a new Beauty, who never before had appeared at Court; this was Lovise the Budoes, Daughter to James de Budoss, and Katherine de Claremont, married but a little while to the Constable Montmorency. This young Lady made all that pretended to be successful in Gallantry tremble: and not without reason, for that there never was any Lover whose Fidelity could be proof against her Charms. But she was so haughty withal, that she scorned the love of the one and the jealousies of the other.  
Nor could the King defend himself any better than his Courtiers defended themselves from the sparkling Glances which she darted from her eyes, but was very officious in paying his assiduities to her, never valuing the trouble it might be to Madam de Beaufort. The Counstable also took delight in her disturbances, and jested about 'em with Marshal de Byron, who solely possessed the King's Inclinations. But Fortune soon after delivered the Marchioness from so dangerouss a Rivaless: for she died in Childbed, leaving the Constable two Children, Henry, afterwards Duke of Montmorancy, and Charlote Margarite, who was married to Henry of Bourbon Prince of Condè, which was the occasion of a very great Intrigue, towards the end of this Reign. Madam de Beaufort had also by the King Katherine Henrietta, legitimated of France, whom in 1619, married Charles of Lorraine Duke of Elbeuf, and Alexander de Vendosme, commonly called the Grand Prior, who ended his days in the Dungeon of the Castle of Vincennes, where he had been confined by the order of Lewis XIII. But the Marchioness was not brought to bed of this Prince till after the Queen was unmarried; and than it was that finding herself at liberty, she made use of all her wit to oblige the King to set the Crown upon her Head. The King also, over whom she had an absolute ascendant, left nothing omitted on his part to have gratified her desires, and banished Nicholas de Neuville, Lord of Villeroy, and Secretary of State, for presuming with too much liberty to condemn his design. Now in regard the King was certain to obtain whenever he pleased the consent of Queen Margaret, there remained no more to do but only to get the Court of Rome to allow the Divorce. To which purpose he sent with the Character of his extraordinary Ambassador, Nicholas Brulard, Lord of Sileri, then Precedent of the Parliament, and afterwards Chancellor of France. He was one of the most able Ministers the King had, and in regard he was no less Zealous for his Master's Interests then for those of the Marchioness, to whom he was beholding for a good part of his Fortune, 'twas to be presumed that he would leave nothing uneffected to render his Embassy successful. But before we relate the success of his Negotiation, it will not be amiss to show upon what grounds the King demanded the Dissolution of his marriage: which cannot be better understood then by the Manifesto that he published upon that occasion.   

The Manifesto of Hen. IU. upon his Divorce from Queen Margaret.  
I Thought myself exempt from giving an account to the Public of the motives that induced me, after twenty years being wedded together, to separate myself from the Sister of the Kings my Predecessors under pretence of being too near in Blood: And indeed being above the Laws, I did not think myself obliged to give an account of my actions to any but God only. But in regard that Strangers, and several of the French Nation take an occasion from thence to blame my Conduct, some calling me Voluptuous; others, Atheistical; and both t'other condemning me for ingrateful, I thought myself concerned in honour to satisfy those who have suffered themselves to be abused, and to confound the malice of my secret Enemies, by exposing to the Eyes of the World the true causes of the Divorce which I desire. For considering the high Station to which God has raised me, 'tis not sufficient that my life should be without reproach, it behoves me also to render it free from suspicion, and to draw the Curtain with which I endeavour to hid the disorder of my Family.  
'Ts said that Heaven sends admonitions to those who are born to command over others, of the misfortunes that will be fall 'em. If the bloody Rain that fell at Rome before the Battle of Cannae, were a presage of the loss which the Republic was shortly to sustain, I may say that the Blood that was shed upon the day of my Nuptials, seemed to foretell the cruel Afflictions that should befall me, by reason of this fatal Union. But I never minded that unlucky Omen, nor the words of Charles the Ninth, Brother to this unchaste Woman, who being better acquainted with her then myself, said by way of Raillery, that he did not give his Megg for a Wife to the King of Navarr, only, but to all the Heretics in his Kingdom. I interpreted his meaning another way, and imagined that he looked upon it as a knot that would for the future inevitably bind to his Service all the Huguenots: nevertheless, time has but too plainly discovered to me the mystery of that Oracle. I was so little acquainted with that Princess, that I knew not that she had been sensible of love ever since Eleven years of Age, that Entragues and Charrins, both boasted that they had obtained her chiefest favours at that Age. I know not whither a Generous Emulation to dispute the Conquest, or the Transports of his Pleasure caused Entragues to go beyond his strength, but certain it is that his efforts brought him within two fingers breadth of the Grave, and made him relinquish his bargain to take a Wife less beautiful, but more prudent and reserved.  
The Prince of Martignes supply●d the place which Entragues left vacant, and having discarded Charrins, for whom she had no great kindness, he remained the sole master of her heart. That Prince being naturally vain glorious, was so far from making a mystery of his good fortune, that there Intrigue, after it had been the discourse of the whole Court, was divulged in the Army, and passing from mouth to mouth, afforded ample matter of Raillery to all the Foot Soldiers, of which Martignes was Colonel. That indiscreet Lover, upon all occasions of greatest danger wore an Embroidered Scarf, and carried with him a little Dog that she had given him, which he kept to his dying day as a Pledge of her Friendship. The loss of this Favourite drew tears from her, which the King endeavoured to wipe away, by marrying her to the King of Portugal: But the Duke of Guise, who pretended, by espousing her, to give some colour to his Ambitious Designs, crossed that Match, by the cunning of the Cardinal of Lorraine, her Uncle, who was sent to the King of Spain to condole the Death of Elizabeth of France his Wife. In the mean time the Duke insinuated himself into the favours of that Princess, by means of the kind Offices which he did Madam de Carnavalet. 'Tis said, that the Dukes of Alenson and Anjou broke off that Intrigue, and that she had those complacencies for 'em, that propinquity of Blood did no way authorise: but I cannot believe that her Debauchery ran up to that excess. However it were▪ the mark had been hit several times before our marriage, and all men will be easily convinced, that I had no need of any great strength to carry the Ring at the first Course.  
So soon as we were married, they who had right to pretend to her familiarity, discarded themselves, and obliged her by their withdrawing themselves to stoop to Gallantries not so Illustrious. The Duchess of Nevers her very good friend, who loved Cocona's, engaged her to favour la Molle a Confident of their Intrigue, to spare him the trouble of holding the Cloak when they were together. But they preserved not those Lovers very long, for being found guilty of the Conspiracy of the Marshals Montmorency, and the Cosse, they left their Heads upon a Scaffold. At what time these Compassionate Ladies, understanding that they lay exposed to the view of the People, took up the precious remainders of the Objects of their Amours, and put 'em into their Coach: which done they carried 'em to St. Martin's Chapel below Montmatre, where after they had bedewed 'em with their Tears, they buried 'em with their own hands.  
The Queen was so over pressed with grief for the Tragical end of la Molle, that she was pitied by St. Hue. That Noble Knight was resolved to make her amends for the loss of him, and out of that Pious Intention, went often to visit her, at Nerac in several disguises; but finding her melancholy returned the very same day that she saw herself deprived of his sweet Consolations, she stood in need of Bussy to cheer her up. Nevertheless, she did not find the latter fit for her turn, because as 'tis said he was a better Trencherman than a Bedfellow, and for that he was often tormented with a Colic, of which he had usually a fit at the beginning of his sport.  
But the difference between those two parties, did not hinder her from harkening to the Duke of Main, a good Champion, Plump and Fat, and Voluptuous like herself. That conformity of humours caused the correspondence to last very long, notwithstanding that Madam Vitry came in for a share, and did all she could to interrupt it. Nevertheless, the Duke forgot himself one day, when he wrote to her Rivaless, that he preferred the Sun before the Moon; that is to say in plain intelligible Language, Madam Vitry before the Queen of Navarr; because my chaste Spouse call●d herself Diana; but there was a reconciliation, and the Moon Eclipsed the Sun.  
This Sacrifice could not make Diana lose her inconstant Humour, nor was it just that she should continue her fidelity to a Man who separated himself from her to make War against the Party which Honour and Virtue obliged him to embrace. The Huguenots also would have had reason to complain, could she have found no body among 'em worthy to enjoy her, for a few days at least. Viscount Turenne was the first of their Hero's that entered the Lists, he was Proper and had a good Presence; and his acceptable outside pleased at first. But she found him not so amiable in Private as in Public, so that she dismissed him with this Character that he was like Empty Clouds that only make a fair show. This Lover in Dispair would have gone and hanged himself in some remote Country, and I know not what would have been become of him if for the Interest of our Party, I had not obliged her to recall him. She had much a do to find in her heart to be so good natured because her Vanity had put her in hopes that the Viscount would have done like Anaxarete's Lover, who hanged himself up at her Dore. And it was a trouble to her, to see herself deprived of the Honour to have forced a Man of his Merit to have hanged himself for her Sake.  
She made me pay dear for this Complainsance; so that I was constrained to suffer that which she had for Clermont d' Amboise, who embraced her often in her Night Gown upon the Threshold of the Chamber-dore, while I to give her time to go to bed, either walked or played in my Parlour with such Officers as I had about me. The Convenience could not be carried any farther; and I know more Coquetts then one that would have purchased at the price of any Gold a Husband of this Character. Nevertheless because I would not be accused of venting my Morals so extraordinary, to tame the jealous, and take advantage of their weakness I will set forth the reasons that induced me to observe this Conduct. I was a King without a Kingdom, and Head of a Party, which it behoved me to maintain most commonly without Men or Money to raise any: and when I saw the Tempest ready to pour upon me, had no other way to divert it, then by my submission. Then this good Lady, such as she is, was not unuseful to me; the consideration of her, mollified her Mother and her Brothers exasperated against me. On the other side, her Beauty drew to me a good number of stout Men, which her easiness retained in my service; and she would have thought it an injury done to the interest of our Party, had she discouraged any one by the excess of her severity. Judge you, after all this, if I had not reason to keep fair with her. However, there were some that were the subject of her railliery, and I had the honour to be entrusted with their ridiculous Passion. The old Fool de Pierat was one of that number; Love made him her Chancellor, and he contested for this Employment, that he might have the privilege to write to her those Letters which his tenderness dictated, and with which, that perfidious Officer and myself divertised ourselves when we were alone together. Those who had erected her Scheme, had foretold, that her Stars threatened that she should die by my hand, between the 21 and 28 of March 1580. and that I would sacrifice her to my outraged Honour, but my prudence or the hopes of my future separation, rendered that prediction vain, and frustrated the malignity of her Stars. We continued together as before, I in my Indulgence, and she abandoned over to her Voluptuousness. She invented also new Ragoos, by laying on black Taffeta Sheets upon her Bed, and lighting up a thousand Wax Candles in her Chamber. And then it was that she became fruitful, and brought to light that fruit of her Libertinism, which being educated under a borrowed name, promises one day to out do her Mother, in her happy talents. These niceties and refinements of her wantonness had brought her to that delicate pass, that she could not endure me. When at any time I returned from Hunting with my face all dusty, and bathed in sweat, lay down by her side, I was no sooner out of the Bed, but she caused the Sheets to be change d, though perhaps I had not lain there above a quarter of an hour. She did not only scorn my Person, but my Birth, which she thought inferior to hers. One day, having desired her to let Madam de Thoiras, with whom I had something of Affinity, sit down at her Table, she answered me, that then she must wash her feet in a Basin full of Water, as if she had been one of the poor Women, that come to have their feet washed upon Maunday Thursday. As if she had not at Florence a hundred Merchants, that were nearer a kin to her by twenty degrees, than any of the Relations of the Illustrious Families of Foix and Albret to the House of Bourbon. But those adventures befell her afterwards that humbled her Pride.  
After she had been shamefully expel d out of Paris, from whence a Captain of the Guards of the Body sent her packing, and searched her very Litter, to see what company she had, and whither Mesdames de Duras, and Bethune her Cabinet Secretaries, who were forbid to follow her, were there or no, she was a little more cautious, for fear of worse usage. However, her reservedness was but of a short continuance, no longer than the remembrance of the affront: so soon as the Image of Pleasure had razed it from her memory, she was to be seen plunging herself in Voluptuousness, with an unbridled Incontinency. She left me without so much as bidding me adieu, and went to Again, a City contrary to my Party, there to keep her Amorous Court, and to continue her Debaucheries with more freedom. But the Inhabitants scandalised at her lose manner of living, sent her packing in so much haste, that she had hardly time to get up behind one of her Favourites, and they that could not tell where to hire Horses traps d after her, some without Masques, some without Aprons, some not half dressed, and in so great disorder, that you would rather have taken 'em for Gypsies, than Maids of Honour to a Great Queen.  
They were accompanied by some Officers, some a Horseback without Boots, others a Foot, under the orders of Lignerac, who carried 'em to Carlat, in the Mountains of Anvergne, where Marcé his Brother was Governor; a Place of strength indeed, but which you would have rather taken for a Cavern to harbour Thiefs, then for the Residence of a Princess, both the Daughter, Sister and Wife of a King.  
I blush when I think of all these Indignities; well knowing that History will not fail of transmitting to Posterity the actions of great Personages, notwithstanding all the care they can take to stifle 'em. What a shame will it be, when after twenty Ages, an Age less vicious shall come to understand that this produced such a Monster of Uncleanness, and that there should issue from a Blood so Noble, and Pure; a Woman whose dissolutness surpassed the Incontinency of Julia and Mesallina.  
I was in hopes, before this last adventure, that her natural inconstancy would have infused into her a disgust of a Debauchery wherein she met with no opposition, seeing Our desires are not exasperated but by the obstacles that oppose 'em; and that in recompense of that indulgence wherewith We suffered all her Disloialties, she would at length have surceased to dishonour me; but experience has showed me, that Vice being become habitual to her, she never felt any remorse of Conscience when she betrayed her Duty. This obstinacy of hers, in violating the Rights and Laws of Conjugal Society, made me at length resolve to break the Bond that united us together. God who has done me the Favour to deliver me from this lascivious Woman, well knows how much I wished it had been in my power to have unfolded this secret Article of our Divorce in milder terms, and not to have been constrained to publish what ought to have been buried in eternal silence; but public murmur and calumny force me to it, and the assurance I have of advancing nothing but what is known all over France invites me to it.  
The King her Brother understanding her flight, and hearing the complaints which I made of her, wrote me word that if I would have taken his Counsel, and have treated his Sister, as she deserved, I should have been free from disturbance, nor should I have been tired with her follies. He also openly spoke it at Dinner, that the Queen of Navarr did not only prostitute herself to the Younger Brothers of Gascoine, but to the Mule Drivers and Tinkers of Auvergne: which words proved true. For after she arrived at Carlas, where she stayed a good while, not only without any Canopies or Beds of State, but without a Smock, she made no distinction in the choice of her Favourites. She honoured her Cook with her last favours, not being able to lie idle, while she stayed for Duras, whom she had sent into Spain for Money, though her Envoy's Wife preached Constancy and Loyalty to her every day, to prevent her sullying herself with such an ignominious Engagement. 'Tis true that all her other Lovers had forsaken her, when they saw her in misery, and that St. Vincent was returned home to avoid the excessive expense he must have been at, had he undertaken to have kept all her Family.  
But the niceness of the Queen of Navarr, could not long comply with a Lover that always smelled of Grease, and therefore because she could not be without one, she advanc d into his room her Squire Aubiac, who could never else have expected with his read hair, and his freckled skin to have been admitted to the Embraces of a Daughter of France. Nevertheless he had subject enough to satisfy his Vanity, being found a Bed with her by Madam de Marcé, who came a little to early, to pay her respects to the Queen. But that officious visit was repaid with the death of her Husband, whom the Queen sent into the other world, by help of a Beverage prepared alamode of her Mother's Country. She thought, that after she had poisoned the Governor, that it might have been easy for her, with the help of the Soldiers that Roras, Aubiac's kinsman was gone to raise in Gascoine, to have made herself absolute Mistress of that Place, and to have expelled those that had so generously received her during her misfortune. But she failed in her wicked designs. Duras returning from Spain, and seeing another Lover in possession of his room, would not let her have any Money, but feigned to have laid it out in Gloves, Parfumes, Horses and other Curiosities of the Country from whence he came, what the new Amazon had designed in order to make War against me. The Gascoine Levies were discovered, the Garrison was reinforced, and she herself was charitably advised to seek some other Post; which the fear of an Affront made her do with great precipitation. She departed with the same Equipage, and in the same disorder as she arrived, and made such long days Journeys, that she got to Jury, a House belonging to the Queen her Mother. But she had hardly time to alight before she saw herself besieged by the Marquis of Cavillac, to whom the King had given such Order. There she was taken with her Paramour, who had hid himself under a heap of Ordure, without Beard or Hair; she herself having clipped 'em off, the better to disguise him. Nevertheless, she did not resolve to save him this way, till she had in vain attempted to infuse Courage into him, and to have persuaded him by death to have avoided that ignominy which was prepared for him, offering to show him the way herself, provided he had but the resolution to follow her. I make no question but they who read this Manifesto will be moved to compassion, when they shall understand to what extremities this Princess was reduced to; an unworthy Scien of those renowned Hero's that have so gloriously extended the Bounds of this Famous Kingdom, and humbled the Pride of her Neighbours. Nor is it less an affliction to me to see their Memory thus affronted, and their Reputatition tarnished by this Enemy of Virtue. But this is my comfort, that there are very few or no Descents, how illustrious soever they may be, that are not defective in some part of the Lineage or other; no Spring so pure and limpid, which after a long course has not its Chrystial Streams defiled and intermixed with Slime and Mudd. But so much for Morality, let us now see how she got clear of this Precipice into which she was fallen.  
She had those flattering colloging ways with her, that it was a difficult matter for a man to resist her, when she had a mind to make use of 'em. And indeed she courted Cavillac to that degree, that not being able to continue long insensible, but rather preferring transitory pleasure to that fidelity which he owed his Master, he suffered himself to be surppsized by the Artifices of his Prisoner, he sacrificed the interest of his Fortune to the Lullaby's that Love had promise d him, and willingly blinded by his jealousy, ordered Aubiac to be prosecuted by Lug●li. That unfortunate person, who was guilty of no other Crime, then of having complied with the Caresses of our Circe was hanged at Aigue-Perse, so constant to his faithless Mistress, that instead of thinking of his Salvation, he kissed to the last minute of his life, a Scarf of Blue Velvet, the only remainder of her favours. And it seemed as if the unhappy Aubiac had had some kind of foresight of his misfortune. The first time that he saw the Queen, he was so charm d with her Beauty, that he could not forbear telling the Commander of the Regiment of St. Luke, with whom he was in company at that present, Good God what a lovely person is that! could I but have one nights Lodging with her, 'twould never vex me to be hanged afterwards. There is no pleasure in divining as he did; such Oracles are to be dreaded; and I wonder that they who succeeded to his good Fortune never made any reflection upon it. Certainly they rely d upon the Proverb which says, that Gibbets are for the Unfortunate, not for the Guilty. Cavillac being rid of his Rival, whom he had sacrificed rather to his controversy, then to any Revenge, left nothing omitted to please his new Mistress. That Illustrious Gallant, who before love had metamorphosed him, was no handsomer than myself, began to consult his Looking Glass, and to make use of all the Dresses and Habiliments that could set off his dwarfish Stature; but let him spruce himself up as he could, it was impossible for him to fix the Quicksilver humour of the Queen; her condescensions to him were only to tame him, to the end that while he thought himself beloved of her, he might make her absolute Mistress of Vss; on. To compass this design, she upbraided him with mistrusting her Worth, that he had not that delicacy for her as to let her follow her own inclinations without restraint, and that she would live with him with less reservedness, if she once found he thought that he was not beholding for his Caresses to the heat of her Passion: Cavillac suffered himself to be deluded by these glozing hopes; but no sooner had he sent away the Garrison out of the City which he himself had placed there, and given the Queen leave to bring in another that was at her own devotion, but she sent him to St. Cirque to gather his Apples, and would not so much as hear talk of him afterwards. When she had strengthened herself with a Reinforcement that she sent for from Orleleance, she settled the Imperial Metropolis of her delights upon that Rock, and find-her self independent, abandoned herself to her inordinate Pleasures, and took for her Model Aretine's Nanna, and benefited so well by her instructions, that she could have read a lesson to Jocundus' or the King of Lombardy's Wife. 'Tis true that for fear of imposing a Master upon herself, she stook to her Secretaries, her Singingmen, and some other paltry fellows, whose Race and Names are unknown even to their Neighbours, nor do they merit any room in these Memoires.  
Nevertheless, I cannot omit the Famous Pomeni, the Sun of a Tinker in Auvergne, whom she fetched out of the Cathedral, where he sung amongst the Queristers. He, having an● indifferent voice, attain to the dignity of being one of her Musicians, and rising from the Chapel to the Chamber, and from the Chamber to the Cabinet, was at length advanced to the degree of a Secretary, where along time he had several employments, and made dispatches upon matters of very different natures. This of all her Paramours was the Man whom she loved most tenderly. Of him it was that she said, that he changed his Body, his Voice, his Countenance, and his Hair, as he pleased himself, and that he had Audience in hugger mugger when ever he had a mind to it. For his sake it was, that she caused the Beds of the Ladies that served her, to be made so high, that you might see whatever was underneath without stooping, to the end he might not hid himself any more under those Coverts. Him it was that she so often groped for in the dark behind the Hang. Lastly, for his sake it was that she caused those Songs to be made, that she so freequently Sung at Court. Yet all this while a wicked fellow that puts all her Household in disorder, and who makes it to apparent to the world, that they who have not the same heart, have never the same eyes.  
I have perhaps enlarged too far upon the Particulars of these Intrigues. But in regard this Manifesto will assuredly remain to several Ages, I thought it behoved me to let Posterity know what I was willing to conceal from the Holy Father, and the Cardinal de Joyeuse, appointed to hear what I had to say upon the Causes for my Divorce; believing it was but Modesty not to defile their Imaginations with the Recital of so many Impurities. I had the discretion not to answer any thing to the two and Twenty Articles of which my Interrogatories consisted that in the least might sully the Honour of this Ingrateful Woman. 'Tis true, when they asked me whether I had consummated the Marriage, I could not forbear saying that we were both so young that we thought we had no reason to refuse what the Law permitted, us. If in this Manifesto I have been a little to free with the Truth, I appeal to her Friends, if her ill conduct have left her any, whether I have added or diminished in any thing, choosing rather to omit some Circumstances, then to repeat all her Follies. For such is the real name that ought to be given to her jealousies and her Extravagant Amorous furies, which began with Bonnivet and have continued ever since. Who could ever have suspected the Daughter of one of the greatest and wisest King's upon the Earth to have been guilty of so much unworthiness. Nevertheless of a Queen she is become a Duchess; and of the Lawful Wife of a King of France, a Passionate Lover of one of her meanest Officers. But tho' she observes no measures in satisfying her inordinate desires, she thinks to dazzle the Eyes of the world by prophaneing the most August Mystery of our Religion. Three times a Week she approaches the Holy Table with Lipps as much adulterated as her Heart; with a Countenance daubed with Black and Red, and her Neck laid bare down to her Shoulders. Her Dotage upon Pomeni was attributed to some Charm, because she always wore between her Skin and her Shift, a Blue Silk Purse hanging in a string from her Neck, wherein was a Silver Box upon which several unknown Characters were Engraved. She opened it in the Presence of some her Friends, who saw her own Picture at one end and the Tinker's at the other. She told them with Tears in her Eyes, that she was never to open it but at such certain Times, and to keep it till her death. Nor is this the first time that extraordinary things of which we can give no true Reason have been ascribed to Supernatural Causes. The same thing is reported of the Duchess of Valentinois, that she was only beholding to Magic for the great Ascendant which she had over Henry. II. the Queen of Navarrs Father. No body knows it better than this Lascivious Woman.  
They who read these Heroic Actions of Hers (for she will never want Historians) will admire her obstinacy in Vice, which neither Age, nor the abatement of her Charms nor the Affronts which she received could ever vanquish. They will agree that so virtuous a Life ought to be enregistered in the Temple of Paphos, to serve as a Model to those who desire to enrol themselves in the Famous Corporation of the Daughters of Cyprus. 'Tis true, that some there were, who thinking she had the Purse and soul of a Queen, Dedicated Books to her, and in their Panegyries ascribed those Virtues to her which she never had. But they had as good have let 'em alone, for long Tradition far more like to last from Father to Son for many Ages, will give 'em the lie and convince the world not only of their sordid flattery, but their vile Imposture; besides the reproach that they are like to undergo from those that shall read their Writings after their Decease. But which was worse, they did but labour in vain in this Life, as being all of 'em frustrated of their great Hopes and Expectations: for that never any body boast of her Liberality, but all Men complained of her Ingratitude. Her most favoured Paramours were never enrich d with her presents, and the Prisons are full of those that she has Ruind. She has been sometimes seen to have been Prodigal of her Alms, but never willingly paid her Debts; she had always so little respect for Religion that she never was at a Sermon but she slept, at Vespers but she talked all the while, never at Mass without a Paramour by her side. She gives away, to my cost, the Tenths of her Rents and Pensions to the next Monasteries, but she detains the Wages of her Servants and the price of the Goods which People trust her with for the support of her House-keeping. She minds nothing but outward show and Vanity, but in her heart she has not the least Sense either of Honour or Piety. I thought to have finished this Manifesto with a Description of her Inclinations; but Bajomon stops me, and enforces me to give him a dash of my Pencil. This fellow the greatest sot that ever appeared at Court was introduc d by Madam Danglure, instructed by Madam Roland, and Le More completed the Polishing of him. This Man she had made her Idol, tho' He had been cuffed by the Loan, the Son of a Proctor of Bourdeaux, and she had taken care of his fortune, to prevent his ending his days in an Hospital. I shall not enter any farther into the particulars of their Amours, there being nothing in 'em to be observed but what is base and below the honour of a Queen. It behoves me now to draw the Curtain, out of a remainder of value for her, and so end this Story, that I may not be tedious to the Reader. I shall only pray to God to touch their hearts, and shed down upon 'em his effectual Grace, without which they can never hope to be recovered from that blindness which now obscures their understandings.  
Tho' we may well judge by this Manifesto, that the King could not be refused the Divorce which he demanded, yet in regard they are very slow at Rome in the dispatch of Affairs, therefore the King to oblige the Countess of Beaufort to await the success of that Negotiation with more Patience, he erected the Signioriy which bore that Name in a Dukedom and Peerage. Sometime after this the new Duchess became a fourth time quick with Child, which increased the King's Love for her, and his Impatience to enjoy her under the Justifications of the Law. For which reason he wrote very earnestly to Silleri not to omit any thing that might contribute to a quick dispatch of the Affair when rewith he was entrusted.  
year 1598. Tho' the King had utterly ruined the Party of the Leaguers, yet the Duke of Mercoeur would not make his Accommodation, but throwing himself into the Arms of the Spaniards he headed a Powerful Party in Bretaign where he proposed to make himself Sovereign: but most of his strong holds being reduc d, he found there was no way for him to escape but by imploring the King's Clemency. Therefore to obtain his Pardon, he had recourse to the Duchess Beaufort, who offered him her Protection provided he would give his Daughter to the Young Duke of Vendome, her  Son. Thereupon the Duke of Mercoeur, who expected a higher match for his Daughter, sent Mary of Luxemburgh his Wife to Court, with orders to offer His Majesty full power to dispose of his Daughter to what Prince he pleased, in hopes by that Artifice to elude the Pretensions of the Duchess: but she was too cunning to fall into that Snare, and prevail d with the King not to give ear to Madam de Mercoeur, till the Marriage was concluded. Which done she made the Duke's Accommodation, who came to kiss the King's Hands, at Angers where the Cardinal de Joyeuse performed the Ceremony of Betrothing the Young Couple with great Pomp and Magnificence.  
So soon as the Duchess had so laid her design that she was in full hopes to be Queen, see quite altered her Conduct, and took upon her such an Air of Modesty, that the King several times repent that ever he had accused her ●of Disloyalty. But 'twas not enough for him to be satissfied of it, the world must be also no less fully convinced; ●to which purpose the Duchess resolved to receive the Sacrament at Paris. The King had stayed all the Lent at Fontain Bleau; from whence he departed upon Palm-Sundy for Melun: at what time the Duchess ordered a Barge to be made ready to carry her upon the Tuseday in the Passion Week to Paris; where she arrived the same day, and alighted at her Sister's the Marshal of Balagni's Wife. The next day she went to little St. Anthony's to hear the Service called the Tenebres with Madam and Mademoiselle de Guise, the Duchess of Rétz and her Daughters. The other Ladies went in their Coaches, but she was carried in a Sedan, a Captain of the Guards of the Body, walking always by the side of the Sedan, whose business it was to attend her to a Chapel that was preserved on purpose for her, to the end she might neither be crowded nor exposed to the View of the People. During the Office, she shewed Mademoisselle de Guise certain Letters from Rome, which gave her to understand that what she desired would be suddenly accomplished. She also showed her two Letters which she received the same day from the King, so Passionate and so full of Impatience too see her his Queen, that she had all the reason in the world to be satisfied. The King sent her word that he was just sending away to Rome Dufrene Secretary of State, whom she knew to be entirely devoted to her Interests, as having married one of her Kinswomen, to press his Holiness to give him his Liberty in a Matter which he was wholly resolved upon. When Service was done, she told Mademois●lle de Guise that she intended to alight at the Deanery of St. Germains where she had accstomed to lodge, and that she intended to go to bed, not feeling herself for well, withal desiring her to come and keep her Company. And at the same time she went out of the Church and got into her Litter, while Mademoiselle de Guise went back to her Coach. So soon as Mademoiselle came to the Duchess of Beaufort's she found her undressing herself, and complaining of a great Pain in her Head. But the Duchess was no sooner a bed, but she was taken with a terrible Convulsion, from which she recovered by the help of Strong Remedies: and then it was that she began a Letter to the King; ' tho she could not finish it, being hindered by another Convulsion. When she came to herself again, a Letter was presented her from the King, but she could not read it, being seized by another Convulsion that held her so lohg as she lived. Upon Tuesday she was brought to Bed of a Still-born-Child, the Violence of her Distemper having Killed it; and the next day, being Friday, she expired by Six a Clock in the Morning.  
Some there were who ascribed the cause of her Death to another cause; and gave it outh that she had made a Contract with the Devil to Marry the King, and that that same Enemy of Mankind had taken away her Life. They farther add as an Embellishment to set out the Fable that the Duchess was acquainted long before with the Tragical end that atended Her. For that being one day in the Garden of the Tuilleries, she met with a famous Magician who was telling several Ladies of the Court their Fortunes, at what time the Duchess having a desire to know what should be by'r Destiny, was very Importunate with the Magician, who excused himself for above an hour; telling her that considering the flourishing Fortune she enjoyed, she could wish for nothing greater. But at length the Duchess insisting to know at lest what end she she should come to, the Magician bid her at her leisure pull out her Porket-Lookinglass and there she should see the Object of her Curiosity. Upon which the Duchess, when she pulled out her Mirror, saw the Devil, taking her by the Throat, which terrified her to that degree, that she sounded away in the arms of one of her Women that attended her. The very same thing or very like it, is told of the Constable Montmorancy's Lady, who died but a little before after a very strange manner. But People of Sense and Judgement gave no Credit to these Stories.  
The same day being Wednesday, La Varenne came to tell the Marshal d Ornano, who was hearing the Passion Sermon at St. Germains de, Lauxerrois, that the Duchess was dead, and that it would be convenient to hinder or prevent the King's coming to Paris, whether he was just designing his Journey; and therefore desired him to go and meet him, in order to make him alter his Road. The Marshal requested the Marquis of Bassompierre, then at the Sermon, to go along with him; which, he did, and so they met the King beyond Saussi, near Ville Juif, who was coming Post for Paris.  
So soon as the King saw the Marshal, his heart misgave him, that he knew already the Tidings which he came to tell him, and by his Lamentations and bitter Complaints soon made it appear, that Hero's have their failings as well as other Men. They carried him to the Abbey dela Saussaye and laid him upon a Bed, till they could meet with the Convenience of a Coach to carry him back to Fontain Bleau. Where being arrived before night, be found in his Apartment the greaest part of the Lords of the Court, who were all got thither upon the noise of this Mournful Accident.  
So soon as the King was entered his Chamber, he desired all the Company to return to Paris, and pray to God to send him Consolation, retaining only to keep him Company, Bellegard, the Count de Laudes, Terms, Castelnau, La Chalosse, Monglas and Fronteval. Nevertheless, as Bassompierre was retiring with the rest, he bid him stay to give him an account of the Circumstances of his Mistress' death, because he was the last that was with her. For Five or Six days the King was not to be seen but by those whom he had excepted, unless it were by some Embassador's, whose condoling Compliments he was obliged to receive, but they returned immediately after they had had their Audiences.  
When the King's Grief was a little allayed, his Favourites who understood that the right way to dissipate his Melancholy was to set before his Eyes some other Dazzling Lady that might make him amends for the loss of his Duchess, engaged him in a Hunting Match near Malherbe, a Castle belonging to the Marquis d' Entragues. That Lord had two Daughters surpassingly Beautiful, and Witty above the Common Rate, especially the Eldest who was called Henrietta de Balzack. Madam d' Entragues being acquainted with their Design to entangle the King with one of her Daughters, sent to him to come and repose himself at her House in his Return from Hunting. The King, who had heard much talk of Mademoiselle d' Entragues's Beauty, willingly fell into the Snare which was laid for his Liberty, and accepted the Marchionesse's Offer. He found the Eldest of her Daughters to be a Thousand times handsomer than she was represented, and therefore not being able to quit her so soon, he remained for some days at Malherbe, with those that were his chiefest Considents. During his stay, the two Young Mademoiselle's Sat at his Table and lay near his Apartment. This little Court removed afterwards to Hallier, and Madam d' Entragues to Chenaut, whether the King went to Visit her every day, that he might have the pleasing Opportunity to discourse his new Mistress.  
After the Marchioness was returned to Paris, the King went to Orleans, where he arrived upon St. John's Eve. There he met the Marshal de la Chastre's Lady with her two Daughters; but though thy were very lovely, they could not stop him any longer than two days. He took post for Paris, and alitt, at the Hostel de Gondy, that he might be so much the nearer to Mademoiselle de Entragues, who lodged at the Hostel de Lyon.  
The King often sent his Compliments to her by the Count de Lud●; but the Father and her Brother, who had not so much Complacency for the King's Affection as the Mother, told his Agent very surlily, that they took amiss his bringing messages to their House, that dishonoured their Family, and desired him to forbear coming anymore. Nor did the Marquis think it sufficient to have quarrelled with the Count; he ordered his Horses to be put in the Coach, and carried away his Daughters to Marcoussis. The King being informed of it, road post thither some few days after, feigning to take that Road in his way to Blois; now in regard his journey to Blois, was only a pretence to cover his journey to Marcoussis, the King stayed their but a very few days, and return d Post to Paris. He alitt at the Precedent Verdun's, where he called for a bed, but he was no sooner retired to his Chamber, but Bourigueux, who lay in his Chamber, rose and committed a thousand extravagances: for the heat of the Sun had lain upon his head all day, as he road with his Majesty, and had turned his Brains. The King surpriz d at his rave, would have locked him up in his Chamber; but not finding himself strong enough, he call d for help, and after they had got the madman out of the Room, he went to Bed, retaining la Roquelaure with him all night. Now in regard the King had no attendants at Paris, he dined at the Precedents, and supped with some Prince or other Lord of the Court, as the fancy led him, never giving 'em notice of his coming, to avoid expenses.  
But his Ministers fearing lest a fancy should take him to marry Mademoiselle de Entragues, who was no less ambitious than the Duchess of Beaufort, persuaded him to mind only his Interest, and the good of the Kingdom in the choice of a Wife. To that purpose they proposed to him Marry de Medicis, the Grand Duke's Daughter, and he consented that they should demand her in Marriage, giving Silleri Commission to manage the business with the Pope. During this Negotiation, they endeavoured to bring him off from Medamoiselle de Entragues, who disputed her Ground with him Inch by Inch. Nor had he obtain d any other then slight favours hitherto; whither he could not find an opportunity to complete his Conquest or whither she thought to make him the more eager, and inflame him the more by affected resistance, to find his affection employment. They persuaded him to spend one night at Zamet, with Mademoiselle de Glandee, whose virtue was not so morose as that of Madam the Entragues. B●t fortune would not let him long quietly enjoy ●he pleasure which they had procured him. For he was no sooner laid in his Bed, but he heard the clattering of Swords upon the Stairs. He presently called, and Bassompirre went to him, whom he ask d the reason of that noise, and understood that Bellegarade, and the Prince of Joynville, afterwards called Duke of Cheureuse, had quarrelled about some pretences and discourses which the latter pretended that Bellegarde had had with his Majesty about Mademoiselle de Entragues and him: That they had drawn their Swords, that the Prince of Jonyville had received a wound in his Buttocks, and that the Vidam Dumans was dangerously wounded in going about to part 'em. Upon that the King risen in his night Gown, and taking his Sword in his hand hastened down Stairs, preceded by Bassompierre, who carried a light before him. But he met with no body but Praslin, who had shut the doors of the Houfe; the two duellers being retired. The King was extremely offended, and sent the same night for the first Precedent to come to him the next morning, together with the Parliament. Accordingly that Illustrious Body attended the King the next morning at Zamet House, where they received orders to take the Quarrel into examination, and to do Justice. Flessevin and de Turin, Counselors of the great Chamber, were appointed to draw up the Informations, and took the Depositions of Cramail, Bazaut, Chasseran and Bassompierre. But the Duchess of Guise and the Princess her Daughter, being informed of these Proceed, made use of all their Credit to put a stop to 'em, and obtain d a Supersedeas from the King, during which time the Constable made up the accommodation at Constans.  
Sometime after the King return d to Blois, fro whence he passed on to Chenonceaux, to give Queen Lovise a visit, and there he saw Mademoiselle de Bourdaisiere, Maid of Honour to that Princess, who found some work for his Heart. Mad●●●●●●lle de Entragues, having notice foe all these Intrigues, and fearing least the King should escape her at length, resolved to be less severe. The King frequently visited her at Malherbe, where he obtain d the full of his desires, and lodged her in the Hor● d' A●chand. When he returned to Paris towards the end of Autumn, she became big with Child, and went to lie in at Monceaux, whither the King carry d her himself, protesting that he lov d her so well as to Marry her. But she hurt herself by an unlucky accident; so that a dead Child being torn from her Body, she lay a long time in a very sad condition. But at length she recovered her health, through the care which the King took of her, hardly ever leaving her till he saw the effects of the remedies which were given her. When she was in a condition to go abroad, she understood there was a Treaty going on at Rome, for the Marriage of the King with Marie de Medecis: which put her into such a violent Rage, that forgetting all her obligations to the King, and all the marks of friendship which she had rcceived from him, she treated him with that indignity which no other Lover would have brooked. But he was so far from finding his Passion for her abated by such her extravagant behaviour, that he heaped new favours upon her, and made her Marchioness of Vernueil.  
While the King was labouring to pacify his Mistress, the Duke of Savoy arrived at Court. He had engaged himself, when the Duchess of Beaufort was living, to take that journey, in hopes by her Mediation to put an advantageous end to the differences between him and his Majesty, concerning the Marquisate of Saluces. But when he heard of the Duchess' death which broke all his measures, he would fain have excused himself; but than it was too late, because he had made too far a Progress to go back. He was well received by the King; and in regard he knew the Ladies had a prevailing power in a Court so amorosly inclined as that of France, he made most Magnificent Presents to the Fairest, as well as to the Courtiers who were their Master's greatest Confidents, which gave a beginning to a Conspiracy that broke forth afterwards. However, his Artifices took no effect, so that he was constrained to return without; obtaining any thing. The King, who was absolutely resolved to recover the Marquisate of Saluces, gave orders for his Forces to march toward the Frontiers of Savoy; and after he had taken his leave of the Ladies at Paris, he went to Lyon. In the mean time, seeing his Marriage with Marie de Medicis had been solomnized by virtue of his procuration, which Bellegarde carried, and for that Viego de Ursini, Duke of Bracciano, had Espoused her in the King's name, the Princess was brought to Marseilles, whither she was conducted by Elizabeth de Medicis, her Aunt, the same Dukes. Wife, and Eleanor de Medicis, Wife of Vincent I. Duke of Mantova, and Jordano de Ursini, her Cousin-German. 'Tis reported, that Jordan had had those tender sentiments of Affection for her, which no way became so near a Relation. She was received at her landing by the Cardinals of Joyeuse, Gondy, Giury, and Sourdis; by the Constable Montmorancy, by the Chancellor Bellieure, and by the Duke of Guise, Governor of the Province; by the Duchess' Dowager of Nemours and Guise, and by several other Ladies. The Marchionses of Vernueil had always followed the Court; but when she understood that the Queen was arrived at Lion, she returned to Paris, because she would not be present at a Ceremony that ruin'd all her hopes. The Constables two Daughters were at the Marriage; and the Duchess of Ventadour, who was the youngest, kindled a Flame made no long stay at Court, this new Passion extinguished assoon as that which he had for t●e Queen; being obliged to separate from both, without any hopes of ever seeing 'em again. Nor was Ursini the only person that fell in Love with that Charming Duchess. The Dukes of Guise and Epernon offer d their Sevices to her at the same time, and quarrelled so violently dnring that Rivalship, that the King was constrained to interpose, in order to make an accommodation between 'em, though he had something of an inclination to have become their Rival himself. There was also ● quarrel about precedency between Madam de Ventadour, and Mademoselle de Guise; and tho' expedients were found to satisfy the Pretensions of both Parties, yet it was impossible to sweeten that same tartness which the jealousy of Beauty had created between 'em.  
The King publicly declared that he was very well fatisfied with his marriage; but the change of his condition had not altered his sentiments for Madam de Vernucil, to whom be sent frequent Messages. And those marks of friendship which she received at a time when she had the least reason to expect 'em, made her so proud, that she could not forbear talking of the Queen in terms that were no way conformable to that respect which she owe d her. Of which the Princess was informed, and declared herself to be extremely sensible of the Affront. And this hatred of Madam Vernevil which she publicly discovered formed two factions at the Court, the one declaring for the Queen, and the other for the King's Mistress.  
An. 1600. The King after he had conquered all Savoy, and concluded an Accommodation with the Duke, by the exchange of la Bresse, for the Marquisate of Saluces, through the Mediation of the Legate, who was come to Lion, to give the second Nuptial Benediction, took Post Horses for Paris. Nevertheless, he took Barge Rovanne, and went by Water down the Loire as far as Briare; from whence he came to lie at Fontain Bleau, the next day dined at Ville Neuve St. George, from whence crossing the S●ine below the Tuilleries (for the red Bridge was not then built) he lay at Vernueil, accompanid only by four persons; but he stayed not there above three days, and then returned to Paris. He lodged at Monglas', in the Cloister of St. Nicholas du Levure, where he had always the Ladies at Supper, with five or Six Princes and his Favourites.  
The Queen departed from Lion, almost as soon as he, but she travelleed more slowly, and met by the way the Ladies that were to serve her in the employments of her Household. The Duchess of Nenours was made Superintendent, Madam de Guerckeville, Lady of Honour, and Madam de Richlieu Lady Dresser. But the Queen would by no means permit the latter to do her duty, as having already designed Eleanor Galigay for that Employment, who had served her along time, and to whom she had promised the Place, However the business was to remain undetermined, till the King should put an end to the dispute, which however was no small vexation to the Queen. But it caused a far grater Heartburning within her, when she was constrained to send back into Italy all the Persons that had accompanid her, so that the Ladies who were placed about her were soon sensible of the effects of her disquieted humour. Upon which, Madermoiselle de Guise, who had no kindness for the Marchioness of Vernueil, endeavoured to persuade the Queen, that it was an effect of her Counsels, and pretended to share so deeply in the Queen's discontents, that she insinuated herself by that means into her favour.  
The King road to meet the Queen as far as Nemours, changing Horses threescore times. He carried her to Fontain Bleau, where after he had stayed five or six days, he accompanied her to Paris, where he lodged her in Gondy House, because the Louvre was not then in a condition to receive her. The same day, the King commanded the Duchess of Nemours to wait upon the Marchioness of Vernueil at her Lodgings, and present her to the Queen. Fain would that prudent Princess have excused herself from such an ungrateful Office, which was the only way to incur the loss of her Credit with her Mistress; but the King would be obeyed. Thereupon she carried her to the Queen, who was surprised to see her, and gave her but a very cold Reception. The Marchioness, naturally confident, was no way dashed out of Countenance, but managed the Queen so many ways, that she obliged her at length to speak to her. Nevertheless, because this visit prov d not so successful as the King expected, the King laid all the blame upon the Duchess of Nemours, who was no less sourly looked upon by the Queen. Which makes it manifest, that how prudently soever people may carry themselves in Court-Intreagues, 'tis a difficult thing many times to prevent disgraces.  
But some days after, a favourable occasion presented itself which surceased the exasperation that appeared between the Queen and the King's Mistress. Eleanor, who had already made several fruitless efforts to get herself confirm d in the Office of chief Dresser, which the Queen had bestowed upon her addressed herself to the Marchioness, and by her means obtained what would never have been granted her by any other means. The King therefore finding the Queen somewhat appeased, sent for his Mistress, lodged her in the Lovure, and furnished an Apartment on purpose for her. Soon after she happened to be with Child almost as soon as the queen: and all the time of their great Bellies, the King diverted himself, in a manner equally between 'em, though his assiduities were s●mowhat more Partial to the Marchioness.  
El●●nor, who still made fair weather with the Marchioness by the queen's consent, still stood in need of her Protection, to ●●tain the King s approbation of her Marriage with Comini, who sought it, not so much for her Beauty, or for any other Ornaments of her mind, but because he thought her advantageous to the raising his Fortune, and Eleanor had preferred him before all her other Suitors, because that being born of the dregs of the people, she was glad to marry a Man that had the reputation of a Gentleman in his own Country Nevertheless the King had no kindness for her, and all the Queen's Household hated her; so that the Queen herself durst not speak for fear of being denied, and therefore there was a necessity for a Credit no less powerful than the Marchionesses to surmont those obstacles. Comini made the first Overture, but was rejected. Madam de Vennueil also was very unwilling to take the Office upon her, because she knew the aversion which the King had for both the persons: Nevertheless, after Eleanor had besought her, and had told her that the Queen would speak to her about it, she resolved to bring the business to perfection. The Queen being informed of the assurances which the Marchioness had given Eleanor; returned her a Thousand Civilities, and after that time she never received any Present which she did not share with her, and treated her with that signal respect, that she made no distinction between the Marchiness and the rest of the Princesses; which pleased the King▪ extremely. Nevertheless, there was a necessity for deferring the Marriage till the Queen was brought to bed, who was delivered of a Dauphin, whose Birth was attended with that of the Marchionesses Son, who was Henry of Bourbon, Duke of Vernueil, and died within these few years. This enlargement of the King's Family was solomnized with several testimonies of Joy and exultation▪ The Queen gave order for a grand Ball, which took up two or three months to practise it; and would needs have the Marchioness to dance an Entry, with which the King was so highly satifis d, that he caused the Marriage of Eleanor and Comini to be consummated, and regald the new married Couple with several magnificent Presents. There was nothing minded but which way to divertise themselves the remainder of the Winter, and good part of the Summer: and the King was glad to procure his Mistresses content at any rate. But an accident happened that for some time interrupted the good correspondence of those two Lovers.  
The King had some kind of inclination toward the Duchess of Villars, the Duchess of Beaufonts' Sister; and though there was nothing beautiful about her, but her Hair, accompani d with a certain lustre of Youth, yet she thought the Power of her Charms sufficient to make good for no small time the Illustrious Conquest she had made. But when she saw that the King stuck close to the Duchess of Vernueil it begat within her a violent animosity, that grew still the more implacable as the King's favour to her Rivaless increased. The Queen on the other side perceiving Madam Villars' jealousy, fomented it, to the end it might prove serviceable to her Revenge, yet so as she might not be seen to be any way contributory toward it.  
Eleanor, in whose power it was to have broken the Plot, had no knowledge of it; and Comini, who discovered something was afraid of medding, for fear of drawing some trouble upon himself that might be injurious to his advancement. The Duchess of Villars, therefore seeing herself supported by the Queen, began to set her hand to the Plough. The Prince of Joyinville had ●e the good luck to have won the favour of Madam Vernueil, and had received several tender Letters from her, wherein there were some expressions that reflected somewhat too disrespectful upon the King. However the Prince was not so faithful to a person so amiable and so deserving, but that he had cast his eyes upon Madam de Vilkars, who taking the advantage of his dotage, wheedled him in to deliver up the Letters of her Rivaless. So soon as she had 'em in her Power, she went and showed 'em to the Queen, who importuned her extremely to let the King see 'em. She made some scruple at first for fear of incurring the dipleasure of so formidable an Enemy as the Marchioness of Vernueil. But the Queen pressed her so hard to a thing that her own interests sufficiently prompted her to, that she could notwithstand her importunities. All this while Mademoiselle ' de Guise, who had introduced Madam de Villars to the Queen could not devise from whence this strict correspondence should proceed; because they had not brought her into the Plot, for that the discovery of such a secret would have infallibly drawn upon her the whole weight of the Marchioness of Vernueil s hatred a d revenge.  
Madam de Villars, then being willing to obey the Queen's orders, sought all opportunities to discourse the King in private; and to that purpose, went to find him out at Church whither, he was gone to Mass, under pretence of speaking to him about some private concern After the sacrifice was over she told him she had had something of importance to communicate to him. Upon that every body withdrew, and then the Duchess finding herself alone with the King, delivered into his hands her Rivalesse's Letters. Adding withal, that as she had received a thousand favours from his Majesty, and had always a great love for his Person, she could not find in her heart to conceal any longer the injury done him by her, whom of all Women in the World he had the most obliged, never considering how much his Heroic Virtues, his Birth and Sovereign Dignity had raised him above all other Men.  
The good King, who suffered himself to be easily over-rul d by persons that offered to him the Incense of flattery, returned Madam Villars a thousand thanks, and promised her the acknowledgement of so great a piece of Service. So soon as she was gone, he sent the Count de Lude to Madam de Vernucil with orders to upbraid her with her Infidelity, and to tell her in his name, that he never intended to see her more. She was extremely surprised at this Compliment, yet in the midst of her inward disorders, show d no sign of any outward discomposure. She answered with a kind of indifferency, that as she had done nothing to offend the King, she could not divine the reason for incurring his displeasure; only she hoped that Heaven would do her justice by bringing the mystery to light, and revenging her upon those who had infused into his Majesty a bad opinion of her conduct; and so saying she withdrew into her Cabinet, to hid the confusion of her thoughts. Some days after, Bellegarde, having discovered the prejudice which Madam de Villars had done the Marchioness of Vernueil, bend all his thoughts which way to salve the business; not so much out of any value for that Lady, or the Prince of Joyinville, for whom he had no kindness, but for the sake of his Sister's interest; and thus he went about it.  
He knew that the Duke of Guise had a Secretary that counterfeited all manner of Characters perfectly well; and therefore he agreed with the Prince of Joyinville that he should acknowledge he had made use of that man's Art, to counterfeit Madam de Vernueils hand, by concert with Madam de Villars, who mortally hated the Marchioness. The King's Mistress having notice of this design, sent to beseech his Majesty that she might be permitted to justify herself: which he scrupled at first to do, as not imagining which way she could be innocent. Nevertheless, he gave her a visit, at what time the Marchioness expressed herself so movingly, and gave him those plausible reasons for the proof of her Loyalty, that he suffered himself to be deluded by outward appearances. He sent the Prince of Joyinville to serve against the Turks in Hungary, banish d Madam de Villars into the Country, where he confined her to one of her own Manors, and sent the Secretary to Prison. This is that which many times befalls people that will be officiously busying themselves to make discoveries to their Masters, when they never desire it. Madam de Villars was separated from a Lover whom she tenderly Lov d, and shamefully banished from the Court at a time that she thought to have triumphed over her Rivaless.  
During these Broils, the Queen's hatred of the Marchioness of Vernucil publicly broke out: for in regard she thought she had been utterly lost in the King's Affection, she left nothing omitted to complete her Ruin: nor could they ever from that time forward be reconciled again. The Marchioness did the Queen all the ill Offices she could devise, and the Queen, who was informed of it, spaired not in all places to manifest the Marks of her Resentment, which divided the whole Court. On the Otherside, the King tired out with these Dissensions, began to pay his Visits again to Mademoiselle de Bourdaistere,  whom he had been formerly in Love; but he was soon a weary of her, and therefore marry d her to the Count d' Estampes. After that, he took to Jaqueline de Bueil, Countess of Moret, who had been bred up in the Princess of Conde s House.  
1602. The Marchioness of Vernueil being informed of all these Intrigues, was so terribly incensed, that the suffered herself to be persuaded into a Treaty with Spain, and a Conspiracy against the King, with the Count of Anvergne, her Brother by the Mother's side. Which Negotiation could not be carried so secret, but that the King had knowledge of it: nevertheless he would not presently make use of the Rigour of Justice. He offer d the Count of Anvergne his Pardon, provided he would come to Court and acknowledge his Crime. But the Count refused to confide in his Clemency; which was the reason that the King ordered him to be Apprehended. D E●re, Murat, and Norestan, who had the Kings Warrant, stopped him at Clermont in Anvergne, under pretence of showing him a Review of the Duke of Vendomes Reigment, and there Seized him. A certain Lay that Loved him, was so afflicted for him, that she made use of all her Artifice and Cunning to have procured his Escape, as they carry d' him by water to Paris, but her designs took no Effect. The Marquis d' Entragues was clapped into the Conciergiere, and Madam de Vernueil was arrested by the Chavalier Daguet, in Audicourt House, in St. Paul's Street, were she lodged and was kept under Guard. These three Persons were also Impeached, and the Proofs being found sufficient, Madam de Vernueil was Condemned to be strongly guarded to the Abbey of Beaumond les Tours, there to spend the rest of her days; and her Father and Brother to have their Heads cut off; which Sentence was afterwards, changed into perpetual Imprisonment.  
During the Disgrace of the Marchioness of Vernueil, Hen. IU. had a greater kindness for the Queen, and lived very lovingly with her ● Mademoiselle de Guise, also, who was become his Favourite, took advantage of this favourable Conjuncture, to procure an Establishment of her Fortune, and wrought with His Majesty to consent to her Marriage with Francis of Bourbon, Prince of Conti. And soon after the King, who could meet with no body at Court that was worthy of his Affections, renewed his Friendship with the Marchioness of Vern●●l, whom he Visited with that Privacy that the Queen had no knowledge of it: but so soon as she discovered the new Familiarity she carried her R●●●tment so high, that she forbade, all the Lady's, that should offer to visit the Marchioness, to come to her Court.  
The King to assuage her Transports, forbore Visiting Madam the Vernueil for some time, and in the mean time to employ his Amorous Heart, he Courted Catherine de Lorraine, the Duke of Manes Daughter, and Wife to Charles Duke of Nevers, a Princess of great Virtue, who had a very great Honour for His Person, but would by no means comply with his Passion. The King that he might detain her at Court, took for his Pretence the Christening of the Dauphin, to whom the Duchess of Montova and Nevers were Cousin Germane: Nor could the Duchess of Nevers in point of Decency refuse to be present at the Ceremony. But the more the King sought opportunity's to discourse her in Private, the more she took care to avoyed 'em; tho' sometimes her precautions prov d fruitless by reason of that respect which she was obliged to bear to a Lover of his Quality. The King however thought he might bring about his design if he did but remove the Duke of Nevers, and therefore sent him to Rome to obtain his Absolution; but the Duchess would follow him, notwithstanding all that the King could do to hinder her. And because the Duke was forc d to stay at Rome about a Year, he had time to Cure himself of his Passion, and publicly declared at the return of the Duchess, that he found her very much altered for the worse. Nor was she troubled in the least at the King's ill opinion of her Beauty, but paid him the same Civility s as she had done before.  
1604. After her departure, the King finding himself constrain d to return to his Mistress, divided his Heart between the Marchioness of Vernueil, and the Countess of Moret, and in regard they had each of 'em Favourites, the one being beloved by the Duke of Guise, the other by the Prince of Joyinv●lle, they suffer d the Partition without any Jealousy. The King being arriv d at Buzanci, after he had reduc d Sedad, dispatch d Bassompierre to Queen Margaret, to compliment her upon the death of Juliendat, whom she tenderly loved, and withal gave the Marquis two Letters to his two Mistresses.  
Bassompierre, in the discharge of his Trust, began with the Marchioness of Vernueil, because her Sister with whom he had an Intrigue, lay at her House, and was so indiscreet as to tell her that he had a Letter for the Countess of Moret. The Marchioness, curious as all Women are, would needs see it, and ordered Mademoiselle d' Entragues to lay her Commands upon him to give it her. What can a Man deny a Woman that he loves? Bassompierre therefore betrayed his Master to gratify his Mistress, and delivered into her hands the Letter which he had for Madam de Moret. The Marchioness after she had read it, returned it to him again, and told him he might easily save himself from any trouble, by causing a Seal to be made like the King's, and so closing up the Letter as it was before.  
Bassompierre followed her advice, and sent his Valet de Chambre betimes next Morning to a Graver to make a new Seal. But as illuck would have it, the Servant apply d himself to the very same Workman who had made the King's. The Graver suspecting there was some great Mystery in the Business, took the Letter under pretence of examining the Impression, and at the same time falling upon the Lad took him by the color, in order to stop him; but the Boy being too strong for Turpin (that was the Gravers Name) rescued himself out of his hands and leaving his Hat and Cloak behind him, ran away as fast as his Legs could carry him, afraid he should have been hanged had he been taken. Bassampierre ordered his Valet to be hid out of the way, and immediately hastening too the Countess of Moret, told her that he had inadvertently opened a Letter which he brought her from the King, mistaking it for a Billet which he had received from a Lady; and therefore fearing to be accused either of design or Curiosity, he intended to have Sealed it again with the imitation of the King's Signet, and then up, with the story of Tarpin and his Servant; and desired her to send to the Graver and demand the Letter.  
The Countess never diving farther into the Matter, only laughed at the Accident, and immediately sent to Turpin for the King's Letter; but he sent her word that he had parted from it, and deliver d it to the Precedent Seguier who was Precedent of the Criminal Court. Now in regard that neither the Countess nor Bassumpierre could tell how to deal with the Precedent in whom they had no Interest, and astern man besides, they thought it convenient to, address themselves to Madam Lomenie, to the end that by her Credit she might stifle the business, either by getting the Letter out of the Precedents Hands, or by obliging her Husband, who was then Secretary of State, to give such an account of it to the King, as might excuse the Marquis.  
Bassompierre, having taken his leave of the King, went to Madam de Lomenie, whom he found very busy in preparing dispatches for the Court. She prayed him therefore to sit down till she had finish d a Letter which she was writing to her Husband. The Marquis suspecting that that same very Letter might relate to Turpin's Adventure, asked her if there had happened any thing new and so urgent, that she could not give him a Minutes' time to speak with her; to whom Madam de Lomenie made answer, that some body had been attempting to Counterfeit the King's Signet, but that by misfortune the Criminal had made his escape and that all that could be done was to secure the Letter which was Written with the King's own Hand: that she was writing to her Husband that he would understand from the King's Lips to whom it was directed, and with whom he had entrusted it, by which means the mystery would be easily unfolded; adding withal that she would have given 2000 Crowns to have had a more certain khowledg, of the Truth. Bassompierre tell a laughing to see her make such a mighty business of such a Trifle as that wash and told her that he would satisfy her at a cheaper Rate; and with that he told her the whole story, as he had related it to the Countess of Moret. Madam de Lomenie, who was B●ssompierre's intimate Friend, as well as her Husband, promis d to pacify the Business, provided he would go to Villiers Cotret, where the King was to be the next Morning, and trouble himself with another dispatch which she was sending to her Husband upon the same Subject, to give him a particular account of what she had heard. Bassompierre accepted the Condition, and having got an answer to the Letter which he had delivered to Madam Vernueil, and to that which the Countess had not received, he departed for Villiers Co●ret, and found the King already arrived and laughing with the Coyntess at the Adventure, and the trouble she had put the Marquis to.  
Some days after the King went to St. Germains with the Queen, the Princess of Conti, and the Duke of Montpensier, and as they were crossing the Water in the Ferry-Boat of Nevilli, the Coach overturned in the River. The King and the Duke escaped drenching, because they leaped in time out of the Boot, but the Ladies were in great danger of being Drown d. The Marchioness of Vernueil, being informed of the accident, told the King by way of Raillery, the first time he came to Visit her, that so soon as she had seen the King's Person safe, she would have cried out, The Queen Drinks. Which unlucky flout being carried to the Queen, She was so incensed at it, that in fifteen Days she would not speak to the King; so that there was much ado to reconcile 'em. After their reconciliation, there was a Ball propos d, wherein the Queen was desirous to be one of the Masquers herself, but upon the King's Request that the Marchioness might Dance amongst the rest, the Queen broke off the Match.  
But the Friendship between the King and the Countess was not of long continuance; Her Intrigue with the Prince of Joyinville, with which his Majesty had been acquainted, having set 'em at Variance; only when she had nothing else to say for herself, she endeavour d to excuse it, by saying the Prince had promised her Marriage. Of which the King desirous to be satisfied, sent for the Duchess of Guise, and blaming the Imprudence of her Son, threatened to punish him if he relapsed into the same miscarriage and if he did not repair the fault he had committed by marrying the Countess: adding withal that he could well endure the having his Mistress' sought for in Marriage, but that he would not permit the covering of Criminal Intrigues under that Veil, and that if he were any thing indulgent to the Prince of Joyinville, 'twas for love of her that was his Mother. But the Duchess, naturally haughty, took amiss the King's Civilities, and answered him in such a manner as highly provoked him. In that ill humour he commanded the Prince of Joyinville to be seized; but he made his Escape upon notice that had been given him of the King's Anger. His Parents endeavoured to pacify. His Majesty but they could obtain nothing more, but only that his rash Miscarriage should be pardoned, provided he departed the Kingdom, never to return again. Which Order he obeyed, nor was he recalled from his Exile, till the next Reign.  
And now the King to make himself amends for the Disloyalty of the Countess of Moret, would needs knit an Intrigue with the Duchess of Montpensier, who had been a Widow some few months. And because she was then in the Country, he ordered the Count of Cramail, her Neighbour, to make her the first Overture. The Count sounded the foard, but with a design to make himself the advantage of it; but finding her no way, inclined to act any thing contrary to her Honour, he said nothing at all to her. All that he could do for the King s satisfaction was to engage her to come to Court. Nor was the King more successful, and therefore seeing no hopes of prospering in his Enterprise; he gave it ●●ite over.  
Madam de Vernueil, knew so well how to make her best advantage of the King's Melancholy upon the ill success of his other Amours, that she triumph d over all her Rivals: tho' the Countess of Moret, within a few days after, was brought to Bed of a Son, who was the same Antony of Bourbon, Count of Moret, who in the next Reign, was slain at the Battle of Castelnavari, fight in the Duke of Montmorency s Army. More than this, the Marchioness, thinking to increase the King's Passion, by rousing his jealousy; spread abroad a Report, that the Duke of Guise had a desire to Marry her, and had caused the Banes to be published unknown to that Prince who never thought of her, but addressed all his Vows to Madam d' Entragues her Sister. Nevertheless he was not at all belov d by Her; For Bassompierre who was the sole possessor of all her Affections, spent whole Nights with her almost every four and twenty Hours He ascended through a Private Door, that open d into the Cutlter's Street, in the third Story of his House which he had caused an unknown Friend to hire, and she met him by a back pair of Stairs, when Her Mother was a Sleep.  
1607. The King being informed that some body slipped in every Night into Madam d' Entragues's Lodgings, thought it had been the Duke of Guise, and that he went to Visit the Marchioness of Vernueil. Thereupon, he spoke to the Prince about it, who appeared so astonished, that the King perceiving his Innocence by the marks of Amazement which he discovered in his Countenance, and entrusted him to make the Discovery. Upon that, the Duke of Guise set his Spies to work the same Night, who saw Bassompierre make his Entrance, but could not tell who he was, because he was wrapped up in his Cloak, upon which nevertheless they could discern the Order of the Holy Ghost upon it. That Cloak belonged to Bellegard, only he had lent it to the Marquis, by reason of a shower of Rain that fell just after they had supped. The Spies therefore abused by that appearance, reported to the Duke of Guise that they had seen a Young Chevalier whip in at the back Door, before which they watched.  
The Duke of Guise not being able together any thing from this blind Relation, sent two of his own Servants to the same place, to watch his happy Rival at his coming out. But Bassompierre observing that he had Sentinels upon him, took the more care of himself; which was the Reason, that they could inform the Duke nothing but what confirmed him in his mistake; so that after he had made a thousand Reflections upon this Adventure, he fixed upon Bellegarde, who was the only Young Knight that could pretend to so much good Fortune. On the otherside, Bassompierre acquainted Mademoiselle d' Entragues, as soon as she was awake, of what had happened, to the end she might be ready with her Answer to the Duke of Guise.  
That Jealous Lover, eager after the Discovery of this same hidden Secret, went the next Morning to give Bellegard a Visit; but he could not be admitted. They told him the Marquis had been troubled all Night with the Toothache, and that he would not be seen till the Evening. Which confirmed the Duke of Guise in his Suspicions; imagining that Bellegard lay a bed all day, to fetch up the Sleep he had lost in the Night. From thence he went to Bassompierre, and finding him a-bed, desired him to rise and put on his Nightgown, that they might have a little Discourse together. The Marquis believing he had been discovered, risen immediately to hear what his Rival had to say to him. But all his Alarms ceased as soon as he heard the Duke deliver himself in the following manner. What would you say Marquis, said He, if the Grand Squire should be better belov d than you, or all the World beside, by Madam d' Entragues. I would say, replied Bassompierre, very coldly, that cannot be, and that neither He nor She have any design one upon another. How easily are Lovers deceived replied the Duke. I would have sworn as well as you, that she had been as chaste as Diana; yet 'tis very true that the Grand Squire was with her all Night; and that he did not leave her till four a Clock in the morning. He was seen to go in, and my Valets de Chambre, saw him go along foe carelessly, and minding so little the Discovery of his happiness, that he never so much as took care to hid the Star upon His Cloak.  
During this Discourse the Duke and the Marquis walked together very fast; at what time the latter perceived the Cloak, which the Duke had taken for bellegarde's, folded up in such a manner that the Cross appeared outermost. Presently he clapped himself down upon it, for fear a Testimony so clear beyond all contradicton should betray his Secret, nor would he be persuaded to rise, tho' the Duke Importunately pressed him to walk on, till one of his Valets, to whom he had made a sign, had carry d it out of the Room, when his Rivals back was turned. In the mean time, he made a show of being very much troubled, and stormed with a good Grace, against the inconstancy of Mademoiselle d' Entragues, and when the Cloak was out of danger he risen up and walked on with the Duke as long as he stay d.  
So soon as the Duke was gone, Bassompierre gave notice to Madam d' Entragues of the Duke's mistake, and that same Young Wanton, the more to confirm him in it, treated Bellegarde before his Face as if they had been the most Intimate Persons in the World. The next Morning the Duke of Guise wag d War with the Grand Squire, who unwilling to dissabuse him returned him Ambiguous Answers. Bellegarde gave an account of all that Discourse to Madam d' Entragues, who approved his Conduct, and desired him to continue it; by which means all the Kings and the Duke's Suspicious fell upon the Grand-Squire. Thereupon they informed Madam d' Entragues of her Daughter's Familiarity with him; which was the reason that she watch d her more narrowly. One Morning, as she drew the Curtain to Spit, she observe d that Mademoiselle's Bed, who lay in the Room, was thrown open, and that the Bird was Flown▪ she presently suspected the Truth, and rising went softly into the Wardrobe; where seeing the Door belonging to the Private Stairs open, she called out; at what time, her Daughter hearing her Voice risen with all speed from Bassompierre, and went to her. Madam d' Entragues, after she had given her Daughter two or three Wherets o'th' Ear in the Transports of her Passion, caused the Door of the Privy Stairs to be broke open, because Bassompierre had bolted it within side, that he might have leisure to dress himself. When 'twas open, up she ran in great haste three Stories high; but she was strangely surpriz d to find no body there; but much more to see the Randevouze-Chamber furnished with Zamet's best Furniture, and tricked up with Silver Sconces and Candlesticks. Thus ended this Intercourse: But Love which is Ingenious, provided other ways for those two Lovers to meet one another at Mademoiselle Dazi's, whom they made their Confident. Nevertheless this hurly-burly totally extidguished all the King s Suspicions of the Duke of Guise's having an Intrigue with the Marchioness of Vernueil.  
There was some Discourse of Marrying Mademoiselle d' Entragues to the Count d' Achè in Anvergne. But that Match was broken off upon examination of the Articles: after which the Marchioness of Vernueil, and her Sister went to pass away the fair Season at the Marchioness of Conflans' near Charenton, about whose House the Duke of Guise and Bassompierre walked their Rounds every Night. But at last Bassompierre broke off altogether with Mademoiselle d' Entragues, aspiring to a more Advantageous Alliance; and begged leave of the King to marry Mademoiselle de Montmorency, and to treat with the Duke of Bovillon for his Employment of first Gentleman of his Chamber. Nor did the King believe it only enough to grant him what he asked, but consented also in favour of the Match, that the Constable, who was out of Favour, should return to Court. The next morning, at the King's rising, he was admitted to kiss his Hands, had a Gracious Reception, and in the afternoon the King went to visit the Duchess of Angolesme, where Mademoiselle de Montmorancy Lodged, and where he saw Madam d' Essars, with whom he presently embarked, and had two Daughters by her, who betook themselves to Religious lives, the Eldest being made Abbess of Fonteleraut: But after the death of her Husband, she privately married Lewis Cardinal of Guise, the Brother of Charles Duke of Guise. The Cardinal had obtained a dispensation from the Pope for holding two Benefices, notwithstanding his marriage; but after his death, the Duke seized upon the Contract and the Dispensation, which was the reason that Mademoiselle de Essars was never accounted any other than his Concubine. However she had three Children by that Conjunction, the Eldest, who died Bishop of Condom, the Marquis of Romorantin, and a Daughter married to the Marquis of Rhodes. But notwithstanding the affronts that were put upon her, under the next Reign she married the Marquis du Hallier, afterwards Marshal de l' Hopital. Her Marriage with the Cardinal de Guise, and the Dispensation, after they had happened into the custody of several, at length fell into the Hands of Mademoiselle de Guise, who did in 1608. The Marchioness of Romorantin, understanding that she was drawing toward her end, caused her Confessor to lay it home to her Conscience, and make her sensible, that it would be a piece of injustice to detain those Writings that might be serviceable to re-establish the low Estate of her Children, and preserve their claim of Succession to the House of Guise. Upon which the dying Princess was overruled, and sent the requested Papers in a Box by an unknown hand to Madam de Romorantin. Who immediately went to Court, and throwing herself at the King's Feet, besought his Protection. To whom that Great Prince, whose profound wisdom appear d in his meanest Actions, made answer, that she must address herself to his Parliament, whose business it was to take Cognizance of those Differences. But to return to Madam the Montmorancy.  
The Duke of Bovillon who was Brother-in-Law to the Constable, took it ill, that a Match should be treated of and he not be acquainted with it; and therefore he resolved to cross it. One day, that the King had been visiting Madam the Montmorancy at the Queen's lodgings, and was very passionately crying up her Beauty, the Duke drew him aside, and told him that he wondered he had given his consent to the marriage of that Lady with Bassompierre, since there were no other matches that were fit for his Nephew the Prince of Conde, but either she or the Duchess of Main, and seeing Policy would not admit him to suffer the Head of the League, too powerful already to advance his Credit by an Alliance, he was obliged to give Madam de Montmorency to the Prince. The King heard his advice without making any answer, but the next day going to see the Practice of a Ball, that was to be danced at the Lovure, Bellegard cried up the Charms of that Lady, to such a degree, that the King resolved to undertake the Conquest of her himself. And in regard that for the better bringing about his Design, 'twas convenient she should marry a Man for whom she had no kindness, he was desirous of being satisfied what opinion she had of Bassompierre.  
To this purpose an Opportunity offered itself within a few days: for being constrained by a fit of the Gout to keep his Bed, he was Visited by Madam d' Angouleme and her Niece; and while the Count of Grammont discoursed the Duchess, the King entertained Mademoiselle de Montmorency, and told her, that he would love her as his own Daughter, and Lodge her in the Lovure, during Bassompierres year of waiting, and desired her to tell him ingenuously, whither she were pleased with her Match or no; for that otherwise he would break it off, and marry her to his Nephew the Prince of Conde. Mad. de Montmorancy, who did not penetrate the King's design, freely answered him, that since it was her Father's will, she should think herself very happy with the Marquis. Henry iv feigned to be extremely glad of it; but resolved within himself to find her out another Husband.  
The next morning betimes he sent for Bassompierre, and after he had caressed him after an extraordinary manner, told him, that he had a full intention to marry him. The Marquis, ignorant of what he aimed at, made answer, that had it not been for the Constable's Gout, his Nuptials had been already consummated. That's not my meaning, replied the King, my design is to marry ye with Mademoiselle de Aumale, and in consideration of that marriage, to revive the Duchy of Aumale in her Person. Bassompierre interrupting him, asked his Majesty, whether 'twas his pleasure that he should have two Wives? 'Tis requisite, replied the King, that I should speak to thee as a friend: I am in Love myself, with Mademoiselle de Montmorancy: If thou marriest her▪ and she love thee, I shall hate thee; and if she have an affection for me, then wilt thou be my Enemy: 'Tis better to avoid an occasion that may break our friendship: I have a kindness for thee, and I should feel a terrible combat within myself, should I be constrained to remove my favour from thee. I am resolved to marry that Lady to my Nephew the Prince of Conde. She will be the Consolation of my old Age, and I will give my Nephew who is young, and loves hunting better than Ladies, a hundred thousand Franks a year for his pastime, without desiring any thing more from her that I design for his Wife but an innocent affection. Bassompierre, who saw well that he should but augment the King's Passion by reluctancy, resolved to yield him up cheerfully a Blessing which he could not preserve to himself, whither he would or no. 'Tis a long time Sir, said he, that I have wished for an opportunity to let your Majesty see my entire devotion to your Majesty's Service; and now I have met with one, that answers my desires; since the sacrifice which I offer to your Majesty, is the greatest that Man can be capable of receiving. I renounce at the same time for the love I bear your Majesty a splendid Alliance; and a Lady altogether lovely, for whom I have an affection, the fervency and vehemence of which I am not able to express. Yet I offer up all these advantages, without any trouble to myself, or any repining in the least: and I wish that this intrigue may bring as much joy to your Majesty, as the loss of my hopes affliction to myself, should I surrender 'em to any other than my Master: a Master whose Virtues I no less admire than I reverence his high Extraction. These words so mollified the King, that he melted into tears, embraced Bassompierre, and promised him to take care of his Fortune: he also talk d to him of marrying Mademoiselle de Aumale; but Bassompierre besought him to be contented with taking from him the person that he loved, without imposing upon him a person that he could not affect.  
In the Afternoon the King sitting up in his bed to play at Hazard with Bassompierre, and some other Courtiers, and Madam d'Angouleme, together with her Niece, coming to give him a visit, he cause d the Duchess to come between the Wall and the Bedside, where he discoursed her for some time in private. All that while, Madam de Montmorency, who knew nothing of the alteration of the King's mind, talked to the Marquis, till the King beckoning her to come to him, informed her of his intentions, and then went on with his discourse to the Duchess; while her Niece retiring, shrugged up her shoulders, to let Bassompierre understand the astonishment she was in.  
But though that Action of Madam de Montmorency discovered nothing to Bassompierre but what he understood before, he could not avoid the assaults of an inward anguish, receiving that confirmation of his misfortune. He gave over play, and went out of the King's Chamber, feigning that his Nose bled. His Servants brought him his Hat and his Cloak to the Stairs, and Betinghen put up his Money which he had left at random upon the Table. As for the despairing Lover, he put himself into the Duke of Epernons Coach which he found next at hand, not being able to get to his own, and caused the Coachman to drive him home, where be continued locked up up for two or three days together, without suffering any Strangers to come at him. When he returned to Court, the Prince of Condè, who had made a formal demand of Madam de Montmorency, desired his company in the first visit that he paid his Mistress. But though the Marquis were somewhat recovered from his affliction, and to find some pastime for his love, had renewed his intrigue with Madam d' Entragues, whom he had met at Madam de Senteny's, yet could he not resolve, unless by the King's express command, to submit to a compliance that would assur'dly put his heart upon the most severe Trial, that ever a Lover was expos d to. The Cermonies of Affiiancing were perform d in the Gallery of the Lovure, where the King was pleased out of an unlucky wantonness to lean upon Bassompierre's Shoulders, on purpose to make him stay with the affianced couple so long as the Ceremony lasted. But the unfortunate Lover could notwithstand so many assaults. His despair upon the sight of that fatal Ceremony threw him into a Fever, which had like to have cost him his life.  
When he was recovered, Fortune, that took delight in persecuting him, raise d him a new Adventure, which though of less consequence, yet put him to a great deal of trouble. Camillo Simoni, Esquire to the Queen lodged in a little Street, right against the Door of the Mint, and next door to Madam d'Entragues House, and coming home one Evening, he found a young man a bed with his Landlady, for whom he had a kindness. Presently he called up the people of the House, who gave his Rival several cuts with their Swords, and thrust him out of doors in his Shirt. He was so dangerously wounded that after he had gone about fifty Paces, he sunk down under Madam d' Entragues windows, expecting every moment to breathe his last. At the same time a Gentleman, who had some knowledge of Bassompierre s affairs; happened to pass by, and taking the dying person for the Varquiss, knocked at his door, called out his Servants, and bid 'em go and help their Master if he were capable of relief, or remove him if he were dead.  
The Marquess' Servants were easily persuaded to believe the story which the Gentleman told 'em, because their Master went out that Evening in disguise, in prosecution of some happy adventure, as he was often wont to do. They ran without any consideration to the place, where the body by this time, almost breathless, lay, and altogether carri d it into their Master's House; though when the Candles came, and that they perceived their error, they carried it away to a Surgeon. Neverthless, the noise of this accident being spread about all over the City, gave an occasion to several Joakes and Jests which reflected all upon Mademoiselles Honour.  
This new vexation hindered the Marquis from being fully sensible of that Affliction into which the Nuptials of the Prince of Conde, solemnised at Chantilli, would otherwise have plunged him. The King would fain have marri d him to Mademoiselle de Chantilli, and to that purpose would have erected the Lordship of Beauprez into a Dukedom and Peerage for his sake. But the Marquis' heart was not at liberty to think of new engagements.  
1670. The King by Marrying Madam de Montmorency with the Prince for whom she had no Conjugal affection, verily thought to find less difficulty in the prosecuting of his Amours; but they had made such a noise, that the Young Prince did not think it behoved him to brook the continuance of the King's Courtship, without making himself the Table talk of the whole Court. He therefore resolved to break off that Intercourse by retiring privately from Fontain Bleau where the Court then lay, and withdrawing into the Low Country's. And preparing all things in a readiness for his retreat, He took Horse one morning with Rochefort, Touray, an Esquire, who took up Madam the Princess behind him, Mademoiselle de Certeaux, and a waiting Woman, called Phil●pette. He lay at Muret, and thence continued his Journey to Landrecy. As for the King, he was then playing in his little Cabinet, where d' Elboeuf brought him the Tidings which were confirmed immediately after by the Captain of the Watch. Upon which the King cried out to Bassompierre that stood nearest to him, with a transport not easy to be expressed, My dear Friend I am undone, This Man is carrying away his Wife into a Wood; I know not whether it be to kill her, or to hurry her out of France; have a care of my money, and play on the Game, while I go and examine the particulars of this Escape. And so saying he went up into another Chamber, beckoning to the Marquis of Coevures, the Count of Cramail, d' Elboeuf and Lomenie to follow him, and ask their advice in a strange Confusion and Hurry, furiously grasped at the first proposal, and commanded de Lomenie to make dispatches for the prosecution of it: but the next moment, considering the impossibility of it, he altar d his Opinion. One advised him to send the Captain of the Watch with his Archers alter the Prince with orders to stop him: another to give the same Commission to Balagny, and Bouvin, and a third to post away Vaubecourt, then at Court, to the Frontiers of Lorraine to hinder his Passage.  
But the King well understanding how little solidity there was in any of those Projects, sent for his principal Ministers to understand their Opinions upon a matter, wherein his heart was so deeply concerned. The Chancellor arrived first of all, who after the King had set forth the matter of Fact, made answer with a Gravity becoming his Dignity, that the Prince of Condè had not taken the Right Course; that it was to be wished, he had been better advised; that he ought to have moderated his Heart. The King impatient of this Discourse, and interrupting him in a great Passion, this is not the business said he, that I ask ye, 'tis your Advice, Monsieur Chancellor that I require. Then the same Minister resuming his Oration, Be it so added He; then I think the best way is to issue forth effectual and strong Declarations against him, and all that shall follow him, or lend him any Assistance. While the Chancellor was delivering his formal hum drum, Villeroy entered the Room, to whom the King, who began to be tired with the Chancellor's phlegm, addressed himself, and after he had in few words declared the business in hand, demanded his opinion. Villeroy, after he had twice shruged up his Shoulders to signify his astonishment, made answer, that it behoved His Majesty to send his Curriers to all his Embasdors at the Courts of Foreign Princes, to give 'em notice of the Prince's departure without his leave, nay and against his prohibition, to the end they might take all such courses as were requisite in the Courts where they resided, and represent to the Sovereigns to whom they were sent, that they ought not admit the Prince into their Territory's, but rather send him back to his Majesty. After Villeroy had done speaking, the King turn d toward the Precedent Jeannin and bid him give his Advice; which he did without any Hesitation. Sir, said He, I think you cannot do better than to send after him one of the Captains of your Guards, to try whether they can bring him back by force, with orders in case his endeaveurs prove unsuccesful, to go to the Prince in whose Dominions he shelters himself, and threaten him with a War, if he refuses to deliver him. In my opinion his departure was not premeditated, nor has lie done any preceding Act that may deserve Reception or Protection. Without question he has betaken himself into the Low Countries, and the Archduke who neither knows him, nor has received any express Order from Spain to support him, and who dreads your Majesty as much as he honours your Person, will never for his sake incur the anger of the greatest Monarch in Europe, and abide the effects of it, but either oblige the Prince to departed his Dominions, or deliver him up into your Majesty's Hands.  
The King relished this expedient, but he would not positively determine upon any thing, till he had taken the advice of the Duke of Sully, who came not in till a long time after the rest with a morose Air, and a frowning Countenance. To whom the King, advancing toward him, Sir, said he, my Nephew is gone and has carried away his Wife along with him. Sir, replied the Duke, I do not wonder at it at all: 'tis no more than what I foresaw: and I told you some while since, that he would commit this piece of Folly. Had you followed the counsel I gave you when he went to Muret, you would have put him in the Bastile, and you would have found him now, where I would have been sure to have kept him safe. What is done cannot be undone, but give me your advice what course I shall now take by way of redress. By my Troth, Sir, I cannot tell, replied the Duke; but let me return to the Arsenal, where I will Sup and go to Bed, and then as I lie musing in the night, I shall think upon some expedient, which I will communicate to your Majesty to morrow morning. No, pursued the King, I will have you tell me your thoughts presently. I must then consider a little, replied Sully, and at the same time turning himself to the Window that looked into the Court, after he had stood drumming a while with his Fingers upon the Board, he returned to the King, who asked him whither he had thought upon the business and what he ought to do? Nothing, replied the Duke. How! nothing? replied the King, very much surprised. I say, nothing at all, added Sully. If you do nothing at all, and thereby show that you do not value the Prince, but rather contemn him, no body will assist him; no, not his dearest friends, nor the most zealous of the Officers he has left here, and within three months' pinch d by necessity, and tired with the flouts and scoffs that will be put upon him, he will return and implore your Clemency. On the other side, if you are eager to recall him, you will put a value upon him: he will be with Money assisted by several persons of your Court, and he will find those that will protect him, on purpose to create you trouble, who would have abandoned him had they been convinced how little you minded his absence. But the King, whose thoughts were in too great a ferment to relish such judicious advice, resolved upon what the Precedent Jeannin had given him, which as it was more blunt and harsh, so it flattered his Passion the more, and the next morning dispatched away the Marquis of Pralin as well to the Prince, as to the Archduke.  
The Marquis could not overtake the Prince of Conde, and therefore repaired to Marimont to the Archduke, of whom he immediately demanded Audience, and went with the Ordinary Ambassador. He laid before the Archduke that Henry of Bourbon Prince of Conde, making his Wife the occasion of his Pretence, to cover his design of raising troubles in France, had withdrawn himself into the Territories under his Government, and therefore he desired him in his Master's name to cause him to be apprehended. To which the Archduke replied that he thought he had done enough in not receiving the Prince, but that he could not refuse him free passage, and that it should not be long of him, that he did not return into France, as one that zealously wished the King's particular satisfaction, and the Tranquillity of the Kingdom.  
'Tis true, that the Prince of Conde did not stay in the Low Countries; for he passed forward to Cologne, and had left the Princess his Wife at Breda with the Princess of Orange, his Sister, who carried her afterwards to Brussels, whether the Prince her Husband came in a short time after. Thither also went the the Archduke to receive the Ladies, and paid 'em a visit so soon as they were arrived. The Marquis of Spinola, General of the Spanish Forces, who was then in the same City, complain d to the Archduke, and blamed him for not allowing the Prince of Conde refuge, and so continually persecuted him with his importunities, that he obliged him to send a Gentleman to the Prince on purpose to invite him to return. Spinola also wrote by the same Courier, and caused the Spanish Ambassador to write to him also to the same effect. 'Tis true, that the Archduke did n●t act with the same thoughts, as the Ministers of that Crown; for that he wished an Accommodation as much as they desired Peace. But soon after he was no longer Master of the differences: for the Catholic King sent his orders wherein he declared that 'twas his Pleasure to grant his Protection to the Prince of Conde. This Declaration so inflamed his Courage, that he made it his business to justify his departure out of the Kingdom, and published some matters of Fact, of which the greatest part were suppos d. To the same purpose also he wrote to Pope Clement VII. and Cardinal Borghese, his Nephew, in terms that might make his Letters pass for so many Manifestos.  
Now in regard the King had given no order to Pralin to enter into any Negotiation with his Nephew, so soon as he heard that he was returned to Brussels, he sent the Marquis of Covures, with the Character of his Extraordinary Ambassador; who as soon as he arrived pressed the Archduke to deliver the Princess of Conde either into the Hands of the Constable her Father, or of the Duchess of Angouleme her Aunt. But the Archduke declare d that he would never dispose of her Person, but with the consent of her Husband. So that Covurs finding his Negtiation did not take effect, bethought himself of carrying away the Princess by force.  
There was some sort of coldness in Affection between her and the Prince; whither it were out of a Natural Antipathy, or out of vexation to see herself so far▪ remote from the Court of France: and the French had taken care to cherish this embitterment, to bring about the King's designs. The Marquis of Coevures being informed of her Inclinations. endeavoured to persuade her to suffer herself to be taken forcibly away; to which proposal she could not a long time tell what answer she should give. On the other side, she was not satisfied with the Prince her Husband; she saw herself, to her great grief, under the Tyranny of the Spaniards: The Archdukes Court by no means pleased her; seeing nothing there that came near the Magificence of that of France; and besides, she most passionately desire d to be with her Father and her Aunt, who by their Letters signifis d the same earnestness on their part. But on the other side, she durst not forsake her Husband, to put herself into the hands of a Person who was bound by no tye to her interest; and she was equally afraid of falling into the hands of a Incensed Husband, and of giving Obloquy an occasion to blame her Conduct. Nevertheless, after she had a long time revolved these different reflections in her mind, the desire of seeing her Family once again, and of returning into France prevailed above all other considerations.  
Coeuvres' design was to carry her away from Brussels in the Night, and to get so far upon the Road while it continu d dark, that when her flight was discovered, it should be impossible to overtake 'em. But for the bringing this about, there was a necessity of taking several precautions: which way to climb or break through the Walls of the City; to have Horses ready upon the Ramparts, to have Horses laid in several places, with Horsemen to oppose all such as should go about to stop 'em.  
Now in regard there was a necessity of employing several persons in the execution of ●his Project, it could not be kept so secret ●●t that the persons concerned had an inkling of it. The first person who had notice of it was the Count of Buquoy, Grand Master of the Ordinace in Flanders, who carried the news to the Archduke and Spinola. Immediately a Council was held, wherein it was resolved, that under some fair pretence, the Princess should be invited to lodge in the Palace with the Archduke and the Infanta. This was proposed to the Prince of Conde▪ without discovering the mystery to him; withal they insinuated into him, that in regard there was some unkindness between him and his Wife, 'twould be the best way to separate a while, that he might have time to recover himself from his disgust. To which the Prince consented without any scruple; upon those assurances that the Archduke and the Infanta gave him; not to part with her out of their Custody without his Consent. Nor durst the Princess, nor Coevures oppose it, not having any manifest pretence to excuse themselves, besides that hey were in hopes of executing their designs before the change of her lodging. Nevertheless, because they could not adjust all their Measures during the time that the Princess was to stay in the Prince of Orange's Palace, therefore 'twas thought convenient, for the gaining of three or four days more, that the Princess herself, with whom he feigned to be in Love, should entreat Spinola to give her a Ball at his House: the but crafty Genoese, who smelled the design, excused himself neatly. However Coevures, no ways discouraged by this unlucky accident, resolved to carry away the Princess upon Saturday night, being the 13th of Feb. 1610. because she was to remove into the Palace the next day, being Sunday. She pretended she was ill, for fear her Husband should lie with her, which was a thing that very rarely happened, and hinder from making her Escape.  
The Archduke who was informed of every thing by Buquoy, gave notice of it, by Spinola, to the Prince of Conde, to whom they had never made any discovery till then, for fear he should make a noise to no purpose, and it was resolved that the Archduke should be requested to order the Prince of Orange's House to be guarded all the Night. Conde was so alarm d at what Spinola had told him, that not being able to keep the secret, after he had taken sufficient care to disappoint the enterprise, he broke out into frivolous complaints. As for Coevures he denied every thing, because he had as yet done nothing to convict him; and because there was nothing more to be done, he dispatched away a Courier to the King for new Orders upon this unexpected Change.  
The King perceiving that Artifice had nothing availed him, resolved to make use of Force to get the Princess of Conde out of the hands of the Archduke, and to declare War against the most Catholic King. To which purpose he sounded James VI who after the Death of Queen Elizabeth, succeeded to the Crowns of England, Ireland and Scotland, and endeavoured to oblige him to break with the Spaniards. But he being already grown in years, was unwilling to engage in a War of that consequence.  
Upon which, Hen. IU. made a League with the Duke of Savoy, the Venetians, and the States of the United Provinces who were most concerned to humble the Pride of the House of Austria. The Death of the Duke, of Cleves upon which a difference arose between the Elector of Brandenbourgh and the Duke of Newburgh about the Succession, furnished the Most Christian King with a specious pretence to take Arms, and he began to send his Forces toward the Low Countries; but the tragical end of that Prince disappointed all his vast designs. For Hen. IU. going in his Coach to the Arsenal with the Dukes of Montbason and Epernon, Ravaillac attempted to kill him as he went out of the Lovure, but could not execute his design in that place, because he found himself posted on that side where the Duke of Epernon sat. The King moreover had not ordered his Guards to follow him as he was wont to do, so that when his Coach entered into the Ironmongers Street, and that his Footmen passed through St. Innocents' Churchyard, by reason of a stop that hindered the Coachman from driving on, the Ruffian had an opportunity to get upon the fore-wheel, and give the King two Stabs with a broad Knife, the first between the second and third Rib, which was of little consequence; the second between the fifth and sixth Rib, which pierced his Lungs and cut the veiny Artery, near the left Valvule of the Heart, which last wound proved Mortal. Thus this great Monarch ended his days, when he was about to have made all Europe Tremble.   

The Intrigues of France, under the Reign of Lewis XIII.  
THE Amours of Lewis XIII. afford but little matter, because that if he cast a particular eye upon any Lady of the Court, 'twas rather a Pastime then any real Passion. Nevertheless, there were Intrigues wherein the Ladies bore a part, which I shall endeavour to relate with as much conciseness and clearness as the Thing will give me leave. The Duke of Buckingham, a Favourite of Charles I. King of Great Britain was come to Paris, to conduct Madam Henrietta of France, whom his Master had married into England, but intruth, to set up a Faction in the Kingdom, which might prevent the King from putting his design against the Heretics in execution. To which purpose he thought it necessary to acquire some familiarity among the Lady's who had most Credit at Court; as being persuaded that 'twas a difficult thing for persons of their Sex, to conceal the greatest secrecies from those who are once so happy as to have touched their Hearts. The Daughter of the Duke of Montbason, who after the death of the Constable de Luynes, married in second Wedlock to the Prince of Joyinville, and who was then called the Duke of Cheureuse, was she whom Buckingham deemed the most proper to second his designs. Her Beauty had purchased her an absolute power over all the great Lords of the Kingdom. She had a most persuasive Eloquence, a boundless Ambition, and a wanton Humour, which made her covet the Conquest of all those whom she thought worthy of particular distinction. Buckingham, who had a penetrating judgement, quickly understood her Character, and perceived that the Grand Prior, natural Son to Henry IU. and the Count of Chalais were the most assiduous to pay her homage, and the two persons likewise for whom she had the greatest value, but that she treated 'em with so much equality, that they could not discover which way her heart most inclined. Buckingham having insinuated himself into their confidence, offer d 'em to make the Duchess explain herself: and though a man would have thought a Confident so lovely as the Duke, a very improper person to fulfil the Trust which they had reposed in him, yet they never suspected any thing; because that being a Stranger, and one that was but to make a short stay in France, they did not believe he would engage in an Intrigue with Madam de Cheureuse. The Duke of Orleans, the King's Brother, was then at Limours, and the Duchess at Dampierre, that lie not above ten Leagues a sunder. The Grand Prior and Chalais, who were the Duke of Orleans' principal Favourites carried Buckingham to Limours, from whence they went every Afternoon to Diampierre. During Buckingham's stay there, he invented every day some new Courtly feast to divertise the Duchess, to which he always invited the two Lovers for fear they should grow jealouss. In the Evening he had the honour to converse in private with the Duchess, by the means of Madam de Vernet, her good friend, whom he had engaged in his Interests by his liberality. Now when he had received such sufficient proofs of the Duchess of Cheureuses' Compliance, that he could no longer doubt but that she lov d him in good earnest, he told her that to conceal their correspondece from his Rivals, there was a necessity of engaging 'em in a Conspiracy against Cardinal Richlieu, who was at that time Chief Minister, and persuade 'em, that though they were alone together, yet they never spoke of any thing but of State Affairs. The Grand Prior, and Chalais easily fell into this Snare; and whereas they saw, to their great vexation that the Duke of Orleans, their Master, had no share in the Government, they immediately rellshed the proposal which was made 'em, to persuade the Prince to declare himself Head of the Faction, that they would set up, upon the assurance which Buckingham gave 'em of the King of Great Britain's Protection.  
This Intrigue could not be carried so secretly, but that Cardinal Richlieu had notice of it. However he would not presently fly out against the Duchess, not being well assured that she was in the Plot; So that he only procured the Banishment of Madam de Vernet. This menace, which one would have thought should have made the Conspirators afraid of a more severe punishment; did not make 'em give over their clandestine Practices. The Marshal d' Ornano Monsieurs Governor, headed 'em, afraid if his Master should marry Mademoiselle de Montpensier, as the King desired, lest she who was a notable Lady, should get the upperhand of the Duke, and put him out of his favour. Therefore the principal aim of the Malcontents was to break off this Match and persuade the Duke of Orleans to marry Mademoiselle de Bourbon, the Prince of Conde s Sister, and by that match to unite those two Houses in a strict Alliance, or to put him upon looking out for some foreign Princess, from whom he might have great Assistance▪ and a Powerful Protection. As for Mademoiselle de Montpensier they designed to marry her to the Count of Soissons, thereby to tie the House of Guise to that of Bourbon.  
Cardinal Richlieu, who had every day advice of this Negatiation, that he might find out the Bottom of it, went to take the Air for three days at Bassompierre ●s House, who was the Count of Chalais' Father-in-Law, and had the knack of flattering the Count so ticklingly, that he fetched the whole plot out of his very Soul. Some days after, the Marshal d' Ornano was arrested at Fontain Bleau, and carried to the Castle of Vincennes; they also secured the Duke of Vendosm, and the Grand Prior his Brother at Blois: But it cost them nothing but their being put in a world of bodily fear; for the real Punishment fell up- Chalais, who lost his Head. Madam de Cheureuse, who foresaw the Tempest betimes, secured her life and liberty by Flight, and retired into Lorraine, from whence she went to brussels.  
There were other Intrigues at Court, after the death of Mademoiselle the Duke of Orleans first Wife. For this same Prince being fallen in love with Maria de Gonzaga, the Duke of Montoua's Daughter, had a design to marry her, and the King himself no way seemed to dislike the Match. But the Queen Mother, whose aim it was to marry Monsieur to the Princess of Florence, after she had made use in vain of all her persuasions, and all her authority to make him consent to the Match, had recourse to violence, and at Columniers caused that Princess to be seized together with the Duchess Dowager of Longueville. Monsieur being touch d to the quick with this ill-usage of a person so dear to him, withdrew into Lorraine, where nevertheless he proved unfaithful, and being charmed with the person of the Princess Margaret, the Duke's Sister, to the burying in Oblivion of his first Affections, he marri d her without his Majesty's consent.  
The King, incensed at this match, sent a Powerful Army into Lorraine, under the Conduct of the Marquis of St. Chaumont. There upon, the Princess Margaret, seeing that the security of her Country depended upon her Liberty, departed the City by four a Clock in the morning in man's Apparel, well mounted, and attended only by a Gentleman, whose name was Dause, who had served Madam de Remiremont, and two other Ladies; and after they had road thirteen Leagues without drawing bit, and hid themselves in a Wood, to avoid some Swedish Troops which they descried at a distance, she arrived very much tire d at Thimville, into which place she had much ado to get admittance. Presently she gave Monsieur, who was retired into the Low Country's advice of her arrival, who immediately sent to her de Fontaines, Chalandray, de Rames, de Laveauport, the Duke d' Elboeuf, and Puis Laurens; afterwards he went to meet her as far as March en famine, understanding she was to take that Road from Namur, and carri d her to brussels, where the Magistrates came to kiss her hands, and by the Infanta she was conducted to the Queen Mother, who as well as a good part of the Grandees of the Kingdom were constrained to seek for Sanctuary in that City, against the Persecutions of Cardinal Richlieu.  
Now in regard the greatest part of the Court of France was at brussels, I do not believe it will be any deviation from my Subject, to give some account of the Gallantries of the French Princes and Ladies that were retired thither. Monsieur, whose amorous humour could not lie idle, while he waited the arrival of the Princess Margaret, paid his assiduities to the Countess of Rennebourgh; but she being so austerely virtuous, that she was commonly styled the Savage, he went to refresh himself with the Company of a Spanish Lady, called Dona Blanca, whose humour was altogether as morose. Madam de Cheureuse laid all her Snares to entrap Archduke Leopold the Emperor's Brother, to whom the Catholic King had given the Government of the Low Countries; and the Duke d' Elboeuf made addresses to Madam de Grincalberque; but all these Amours were only transitory Gallantries: there was no body but the Duke of Guise that embarked himself in Intrigues of any long continuance, and such indeed as prov d in good part the occasion of most of the misfortunes of his Life.  
This Prince, being the youngest Brother of his Family was designed for the Church, and was promoted to the Archbishopric of Rheims: but after his Brother's death, he quitted his Benefices; and courted Anna de Gonzaga, Sister to the Princess Marie, of whom we have already made mention Cardinal Richlieu finding this Alliance to be contrary to the good of the State, made use of the King's authority to prevent it, and ordered the Princess to be shut up in a Convent. The Duke of Guise enrag d to see his Passion crossed departed the Kingdom, and withdrew to Cologne, whither his Mistress having made her escape, followed him in Man's Apparel; but he obliged her to return, and went to brussels, where he met with the rest of the Exiles. Now in regard there was no good Company there to his mind, he spent the greatest part of the Afternoons with the Duchess of Cheureuse, his Kinswoman, who fearing lest his assiduities should create a jealousy in the Archduke, endeavour d to engage him other where, and brought him acquainted with the Countess of Bossu. She was a young Widow of a sweet and blithe humour, and the Duchess' great friend. It was so ordered that she should be of the Duke's side in a match at Cards, and she put herself to forward, that he could not choose but return her an answer. 'Tis true, that for fear she should make a wrong judgement of his Conduct, she presently spoke to him about marriage, and the Duke declared to her that he desired nothing so much, as to share destinies with her, but in such terms as sufficiently showed, that he only sought to divertise himself during his Exile. But though the Countess had sounded his drift, yet she made as if she had never perceived it, hoping the more easily to engage him by her feigned Ingenuity.  
One day she carried him to a very stately House of here's about a League from brussels, and treated him with all the divertisements that were proper for the Season, which was the most pleasant in all the whole year; for which the Duke could not choose but testify his acknowledgement to her, and talk to her of love as he was us d to do. The Countess told him, that if he were so amorous as he would seem to make her believe, he should show himself more eanestly desirous of their Marriage The Duke swore to her that there was nothing that he more Passinonately wished for, then to spend the rest of his life with so amaible a person as she was, and that it was her fault if she did not put it to the Trial. The Countess taking him at his word, replied, that she should soon see whither his Protestations were sincere, since she had both a Notary and a Priest in the House to marry 'em. The Duke was surprised at this discourse, but made as if he had not been so, and thought he might take his liberty without running any hazard, while he made the Duchess the Cully of her own cunning; seeing that a Marriage of that nature wanting the formalities prescribed by the Canon, and without the King's consent, was void in Law. The Duchess therefore seeing the Duke ready to do what she desired, sent for Manfele Almoner to the Army, who gave 'em the Nuptial Benediction, and dispensed with ask the Baines, as if he had the same authority with the Bishop of Malines. Thus the Duke stayed all that night with his new Spouse, to whom he showed so much kindness and affection, that she was extremely satisfied with the happy success of her designs. The next day he returned back, after he had desired the ●hew Duchess that she would keep their Marriage private, till he got the consent of the Court and his own Relations.  
But notwithstanding all the care they took to conceal this Adventure from public knowledge, it reached the Ears of the Duke d' Elboeuf and the Duchess of Cheureuse who both upbraided him with it, as a piece of the foulest Treachery imaginable. The respect he and for Laides curbed him from flying out against the Duchess; but the Duke d' Elbouf and he had such high words together, that they had drawn their Swords if the Archduke had not pacified 'em. The Duke of Guise finding he could not revenge himself by his Sword, sought out for otherways to plague the two persons that had affronted him, and thought he could not find a better than to bring the Countess home to his House and treat her there publicly as his Wife. This was the course he took, and from that time he lived with her very lovingly so long as she remained at Brussels. But we must now return to France with the Duke of Orleans, who having obtained of the King to approve his Marriage, went to wait upon him at St. Germains, together with Madam.  
1640 While the King was busily employed in reducing the Huguenots of his Kingdom, and defending his Allies against the erterprises foe the House of Austria, he was governed altogether by his Favourites, never minding the Conversation of Ladies. The Marquis de Paradas succeeded the Constable de Luynes, and the Duke of S. S●nogi succeeded him. After that Duke was thrown out of favour Cardinal Richlieu I● obtained the sole ascendant over his Majesty, without any Companion either in his favour, or in the Ministry. But after the Peace had given the King a little liberty to converse among the Ladies, 'twas soon perceived that he cast a more particular eye upon Mademorselle de Faye●ro, though that same application was wholly Platonic▪ for he bounded his desires within the limits of Conversation, never caring to have any particular pastime with her, and never spoke to her but publicly in the Queen's Chamber. This Love however as innocent as it was, created a jealousy in the Gardinal; and it seemed to him so much the more dangerous and prejudicial to his favour, because Madam de la Fayette was in a strict union with the Queen; and for that the Marchioness of Senesay, a Lady of Honour, and the Queen's Creature, was the Confident entrust d with the Secret. The Cardinal therefore used all his endeavours, to break that Union and at length obtain d an order from the King to banish those two Ladies, which was carried to 'em by Cavigny, Secretary of State, and within a little while after, the Marquis of St. Ange, Master of the Queen's Household underwent the same desgrace: Which very much incensed the Queen against the Cardinal; but in regard he was assured of the King has Master friendship, he took little notice of it.  
Mademoiselle d' Hautefort, soon succeeded in the room of Madam the lu Fayette, and the Cardinal suffered that growing Passion without any jealousy, because that Lady had neither judgement nor with, to carry on Intrigues, equal to the King's first Mistress. But when he discovered that she was solely guided by the Counsels of Mademoiselle de Chennerault, whose genius and cunning were no way inferior to Madem de la Fayette's abilities, he was no less disturbed then before. Nevertheless, he durst not openly assail the King's Passion, for fear of incurring his displeasure, and putting himself out of favour; but to unhinge him insensibly from her, he thought it convenient to fix about him a Favourite depending in such a manner upon his will, that he might ruin him when he was able to subsist of himself For that purpose the Cardinal cast his eye upon Henry Deffiat, Marquis of St. Mars, Grand Squire of France, who had all the qualities requisite to supply such a Post. He was handsome, and genteel in his Addresses, but he loved his pleasures to that degree, that there was all the probabilty imaginable that the fear of losing the means of enjoyment would hinder him from attemping any thing upon the Credit of the Prime Minister. The King at first disliked St. Mars' licentious humour, which was absolutely contrary to his reserved way of living. However this Favourite, following the Cardinal's advice, became so complaisant that at length he vanquished the King's reluctancy. For when the King made him any Presents he besought him to be sparing of his Favours, which would but create a jealousy in Madam de Hautefort, and expose him to the darts of her revenge: and at last he so well managed his Master during his Journey to Chambort, that he drew a promise from him never to see Madam de Hautefort any more when he returned to Paris. The Cardinal however afraid lest the King should change his mind upon a fresh sight of the Charming object, left nothing omitted to keep him at a distance from her. He invented several pretences to hinder him from returning to the Capital City of his Kingdom, and engaged him in a tedious Journey to go and meet Madam  his Sister as far as Grenoble, upon the Fronties of P●emont. After this Interview, it was impossible to detain the King any longer in the Country, as being absolutely resolved to return to Paris. The Queen also went to meet him as far as Fontain Bleau, and carried Madam de Hautefort along with her. But the King's Passion for that Lady was accompanied with so great a respect that he durst not allow himself the least liberty with her, as you may judge by what I shall tell ye. One day the Queen having receiv d a Billet, of which she had a mind to make some kind of mystery, planed it to the Hang of her Chamber, that she might not forget to answer it; but the King coming in, within a little while after, the Queen unwilling he should see the Billet, commanded Madam de Hautefort, who was one of her Maids of Honour, to take it down and lock it up which she did accordingly. The King would fain have taken it from her, and the King and she contended together after a jesting manner; but at last Madam de Hautefort, no longer able to defend herself, clapped the Billet into her Bosom, a Sanctuary too secure for him to meddle with: for the King durst not touch it there, nor was he curious in the least any more to see it. But though the, King's Passion was accompanied with great reserudness, never the less it was very nice and attended by jealousy. For the King having a desire to settle Madam de Hautefort in the World, resolved to marry her to the Marquis de Geures, Eldest Brother to the Duke de Geures, at this day first Gentleman of the Chamber and Governor of Paris, who was no more at that time than an Abbot, and commanded her to receive him, as a person whom he designed her for a Husband; which she did without any constraint; for the Marquis was well shaped, and had a very graceful presence. Now while all things were preparing for this Wedding, the Spaniards Besieged Corbie; and all the brave Gentlemen of the Court hastened to the relief of that place, and among the rest the Marquis of Geures, who was there slain; the news of which the King himself carried to Madam de Hautefort, and endeavoured to comfort her. Some few days after going into the same Lady's Chamber, he found her upon her knees before her little Altar, and stealing softly behind her saw that she was reading the Vespers of the dead; upon which, imagining it was for the Marquis of Geures, it seized him with such a sit of jealousy, that for six weeks together, he would not so much as hear her name mentioned; though he himself had propounded the Marriage of the Marquis to her: Which can be attributed to nothing else but the Capriccios customary to Love, that frequently looks upon those things which once it desired, as so many befallen mischiefs.  
At length Madam de Hautefort was brought into his Presence by another Lady; but the King gave but a very cool Reception either to the one or the other; teling his Mistress withal that she had made unhappy. Jokes upon St. Mars. 〈◊〉 but bid her have a care how she did so any more, unless she had a mind to incur his displeasure. Madam de Hautefort, who expected to have received some marks of kindness from the King after a long absence, was so surprised to see herself so disobligingly reprimanded, that she burst into tears, not able to give the King any other answer. So soon as the Cardinal understood by St. Mars the success of the first meeting, he tho●ght it a proper Season to remove Madam de Hautefort from the Court, together with Madam de Cheunerault ●er Confident, for fear the King's passion should re-kindle, by any longer frequenting her Company. To which purpose the prime Minister, and the Favourite laboured by consert, and so sedulously importuned the King, that he sent an Order to those two Lady's to departed the Court forthwith; upon which they put themselves into a Convent in Paris. But the Cardinal would not suffer 'em to harbour long there; enforcing Madam de Chennerault to retire into Poitou, and Madam de Hautefort to betake herself to one of her Houses above forty Leagues from the Court.  
St. Mar's perceiving that no body had a greater share in his Master's Affections then himself, thought himself in a condition to aspire to nobler Alliances. He had a long time Courted Marie de Gonzaga of whom we have already made mention, and had been so fortunate as to gain her Affection. Nay, report gave it out, that he had had a Daughter by her, of whom she was privately brought to bed at the Marchioness d' Arquien's House, who was her Governess, and which afterwards went for her Daughter. St. Mars spoke to the Cardinal about marrying this Princess; but he, afraid lest the Favourite should become too powerful by means of that Alliance, refused to give his consent, and so ordered it that the King quickly disposed of her to another: Ladislaus the iv King of Hungary, sent to demand her in marriage, and the match was soon concluded. She carried along with her into Poland Madam d' Arquten, together with the Daughter, which 'twas said she had by St. Mar's. After the death of Ladistau's the iv she married in second Wedlock Casimir his Brother; and being no less desirous to prefer the pretended Young Madam Darquien, she married her to a great Lord of Poland, and when she came to be a Widow, to the Grand Marshal Sobies●ki, at present reigning by the name of John IU. Thus, if the Story be true, the Daughter succeeded the Mother, and as she did before, now wears the Crown of Poland.  
In the mean time, St. Mar's, to make himself amends for the loss of his Mistress, applied himself to Marion de Lorme, who in truth was but of a very obscure extraction, but might well pass for the most lovely Person in Europe; and as she was none of the cruel ones, so was he soon happy. So soon as the King was in bed, away flew he from St. Gemains, and road full speed to meet her at Paris: and the delight which he took in her hindering him from rising early in the morning, he was very rarely at the Kings rising. The King, who knew not the reason of his neglect, asked several of his Officers what was become of him but they said not a word; whether out of ignorance, or whither they were afraid to provoak a favourite. But Lafoy Chenaye, the Kings first Vaiet de Chambre, who had very much contributed to the putting his Mistresses out of favour, finding that St. Mar's never made him any grateful acknowledgement for what he had done, resolved not to let so fair an opportunity of Revenge escape him. He knew that the King, who was extremely reserved in his Pleasures, had an Aversion for those that gave themselves over to their Debaucheries; and therefore thought he could not meet with a more certain expedient to plague the favourite, then by acquainting his Master with his Love for Marion de Lorme, which he did: and failed not to infuse into the King those sentiments which he was desirous his Majesty should have of him. St. Mar's perceiving the King's coldness toward him, fetched him about so many way's, that he made him confess the many ill Offices that Chenaye had done him. After the Count had discovered from what hand the blow came, he studied nothing but Revenge upon the Author of his disgrace, and to ruin, so dangerous an Enemy in the good opinion of his Master. To that purpose he imparted his design to tha Marshal de la Meilleraye, who had some reason likewise of disgust against the same Officer, and they were so assiduous in their endeavours to degrade him, that they compass d their design. Lafoy Chenaye had some kind of preceding inward Divination of his fall, and spoke of it to the Cardinal, who promised to support him. But unfortunately for him, his Patron was then at his House of Ruel, when the order was brought him to be gone, so that having no recourse to his Eminency, he was forced to departed without delay.  
The Cardinal was very much surprised when he heard of Chenays being dismissed from his employment, and knowing that St. Mars was the author of it; he upbraided the Favourite with it, and told him, he never thought he would have removed a Person from the King's Person, whom he khew to be his Creature; and this too, in his absence and without his knowledge. St. Mars whose interest forbidden him to quarrel with that Minister, while his Credit stood immovable, was constrained total him all the particulars of the Intrigue, and acknowledge his Affection for Marion de Lorme; and as it is a weakness in all Lovers to enhance the Charms of their Mistresses, he gave the Cardinal so lively a description of her, that he infus d into the Cardinal a great desire to see her. How ever the subtle Minister made no the least discovery of his thoughts; but in the Evening he spoke of it to the Abbot of Bo●s Robert, who was the Trustee of all his Private Pleasures. The Abbot told him, that he knew Mademoiselle d' Enclos, commonly called at Court Ninon, who was an intimate Acquaintance of Marion de Lormes, and that by her means it would be and easy thing to entice St. Mars Mistress to Ru●l, under pretence of seeing the Writers, and for his Eminency to take a View of her at leisure, yet she perceiving nothing of his Curiosity.  
The Cardinal approved the Abbot of Bois Robert's Project, and desired him to lose no time. Thereupon the Crafty Confident went the next day to give Ninon a Visit, and made the match so dextrously, that Ninon, as cunnung as she was, knew nothing of the design. The Cardinal having notice of the day, that the two Lady's were to come and see his House, ordered a Magnificent Collation to be prepared ready in a little Island, in the middle of the Park, where he had also the King's Music, both Violins and Hautboy's; and all the Gallantry went under the Abbot's name, the Lady's all that while not knowing any thing of the mystery of the Banquet, which was carefully concealed from 'em. The Cardinal also saw Marion de Lorme, without being seen himself, and found her a thousand times handsomer than he imagined her to be. He had a desire to know wheher she had a kindness for St. Mars, and ordered Bois Robert to make the discovery. the Abbot on the other side failed not to give his Eminency the satisfaction which he desired, and gave him to understand that Vanity had a greater share than Love in Marion de Lormes compliances with the King's Favourite; but that the Lady kept all her tenderness for Desbarreaux, a Councillor in Parliament, a Young Gentlemen of a Graceful Mien, a lievely wit, and bonny Conversation but debauched and Irreligious to the highest degree. Richilieu ordered the Abbot to make a proposal to Desbarreaux, that if he would part with his Mistress to the Cardinal and engage her to correspond with his Affection, he would be so far beholding to him for such ah acceptable Sacrifice, that he would do for him whatever he desired to advance his Fortute. Bois Robert discharged himself of his Commission with an extraordinary address, but Desbarreaux returned him nothing but jocose answers, not believing the Cardinal could be guilty of so much weakness. Which incens d tne Prime Minister to that degree, that he persecuted Desbarreaux as long as he lived, and forced him to fallen his place and quit the Kingdom.  
After Desbarreaux was gone, Madam des Enclos, at the request of Bois Robert, spoke to her friend concerning the Cardinal's being in love with her; and the first overture of his Affection that he made her was accompanied with a Present of a Pair of large Silver Andirons, and a Candlestiks, which were valued at 20000 Livers. St. Mars surprised to see this ornamental furniture in his Mistress' Chamber, would needs know from whom so much liberality procecded, and not being able to clear the point from her own mouth, he let fall all his jealousy upon Emeri, Controller of the Finances; who visited her some times. Nay it made him so ●horn mad, that he resolve d to dudgel his Rival, and told his mind to Coquerell, Lieutenant to the Grand Provist of the Household. Coquerell gave Emeri notice of it, who to divert the Storm that threatened him, for boar to visit Marion, and broke off all intercourse with her.  
In the mean time St. Mars' jealousy redoubled his passion for his Mistress, whom he visited every day and Incognith and in disguise, not withstanding the King's Prohibitions. His assiduities, also were so signal, that 'twas reported he had married her. Lewis XIII. had notice of it from all parts, and St. Mars' Relations, who were afraid lest he should be so much a fool as to match himself so unequally, were the first that complain d of it to his Majesty. Upon which the Ingratitude and Obstinacy of this Favourtie so sensibly affected the King that he kept his Bed for some days, feigning himself sick on purpose to avoid the sight of that unthankful Officer, to whom he could not forbear showing his resentment. On the other side St. Mars, an enemy of restraint grew weary of being cu●●●'d by his Master in his Pleasures, and in a sit of discontent gave ear to the proposals of the Count of Soisons, who offered him for a Wife, his Niece Mademoislle de Longueville, with several other advantages, if he would enter into a League against the Cardinal. 'Tis true that the Death of the Count of Soisons, which happened within a little while after the Battle of Sedan, discomposed this Conspiracy for some time? but it was renewed again with the Duke of Bovillon, by the means of Madam de Thou.  
After St. Mars was once engaged in this Intrigue, he forgot to give intelligence to the Cardinal, as he was wont to do, of what the King said of him, when he found any fault with his Ministry. On the other side, the Cardinal, who had placed that Favourite near the King s person, and had supported him in that Station, only to be a faithful Spy to inform him of his most secret thoughts, no sooner saw him fail of his sincerity, but he began to grow cold in his kindness for him, till at last those reciprocal disgusts degenerated into an irreconcilable hatred. One of the principal causes of St. Mars' antipathy against the Cardinal, was his obstructing the King's design to have made him one of his Privy Council. One day, at Re●el, as all the Courtiers were quitting the King's Chamber, to leave it free for the chief Ministers, the King took St. Mars by the Arm, and stopping him, said he to the Cardinal, 'tis necessary that our Friend (for so he called his Favourite) should be well instructed in Our affairs, to the end he may be able to serve Us usefully. The Cardinal, who was perfectly well acquainted with the King's humour, would not withstand the King's design, but suffer d St. Mars to take his place in the Council; however he would not permit any matter of consequence to be debated there, and the next day being in private with his Majesty, he neatly represented to him, how dangerous it would be to impart his secrets to so young a man as St. Mars, who might be easily wrought to reveal 'em. The King approved his Eminencies reasons, and never after that, called his Favourite into his Council. Which coming with ease to St. Mars' ear, he could never be induced to pardon the Cardinal.  
Upon that the Minister and the Favourite never afterwards observed any measures of Decorum, but displayed their Hatred so publicly, that the King had much ado to keep 'em quiet. St. Mars being one day with the King, when a Gentleman who came from Marshal de la Mothe, to bring his Majesty the news of the Relief which the Spaniards had put into Tarragon by Sea, endeavoured to lay all the fault upon the Archbishop of Bourdeaux, who commanded the French Fleet, this Favourite left nothing omitted to justify the Archbishop, and blame the Marshal's conduct, who was a Kinsman of Noiers the Secretary of State, and consequently the Cardinal's Creature. Nor did he stop there, for understanding that the Cardinal had accused him to the King, for having showed but little Courage at the Siege of Arras, where he commanded the Volunteers, he slyly put it into the King's Head, finding him inclined to Peace, that the Cardinal prolonged the War for his own particular ends, and started every day new obstacles to hinder an Accommodation of the differences between the two Crowns. In short he omitted nothing to put his Majesty out of conceit with the Cardinal. And the little kindness which the King showed the Cardinal for some days, afforded St. Mars, whose Reputation was plainly discerned to increase, as the Cardinal began to wain and lose his Master's favour, a means to draw to his party several persons whom it would have been in vain for him to have attempted at any other time.  
The Cardinal, on the other side, who had notice of all these practices, engaged the King to leave Paris in order to besiege Perpignan himself, and complete the conquest of Rousillon, in hopes that the cares of the War would divert the King from familiar Discourses, at what time his Minions took their opportunity to cry down his Ministry. This Journey infused a Jealousy into St. Mars, who fearing lest the Cardinal during the Campaign, should work himself again into the King's favour, and make use of it to his ruin, deemed it convenient to secure a place of refuge for himself. Nor could he think of any more convenient than Sedan, the Sovereignty of which City belonged to the Duke of Bovillon. He opened his mind to Madam de Thou, who promised him to obtain from the Duke all requisite Assurances of the Sanctuary which he desired. In short, he went to wait upon the Duke at Sedan, to persuade him to come to Paris; and he got thither at the same time that the Duke was pressed by the Cardinal to undertake the same Journey, to receive his Commission for command of the Army in Italy, which the King intended to confer upon him. The Duke finding himself solicited on both sides, set forward at length and went to Court; and was at first at a great puzzle which party to adhear to, not knowing which would be most for his advantage to join with the Cardinal of the Favourite. But at length his inveterate Hatred against the Cardinal, and the persuasions of Madam de Thou, overruled him to engage with St. Mars. However he did not refuse the Command of the Army in Italy: and they drew from him a promise that he should▪ admit into Sedan the King's Brother, who had already declared himself head of the Party. But in regard there were several particulars that were to be agreed upon, they assigned the Hostel de Venise for the place of their Rendezvouz, where Monsieur had his Stables. There, met St. Mars, and the Duke of Bovillon, who sent for the Counts of Aubijoux, de Brion, and de Fonterailles. There, it was propos d whither they should put themselves under the Protection of the King of Spain, upon which there happened great Disputes: but at last it passed in the Affirmative. Fonterailles was entrusted with that Negotiation, by reason of his Address and Cunning. Besides that being not so considerable for his Quality, as the rest, it was to be presumed, that his absence from Court would be the less taken notice off. 'Twas a good while before he would undertake the business; but at length away he went, and arrived at Madrid, concluded a Treaty with the Duke d' Olivarez, the Catholic King's chief Minister It had been resolved upon, that the Cardinal should have been Assassinated at Briare; but St. Mars durst not put it in execution; excusing himself that it was requisite to stay till Monsieurs Arrival, to the end his presence might warrant those that should commit the Murder from da●ger. For Monsieur remained at Paris to strengthen his Party, and sent the Count of Montresor to draw in the Duke of Beaufort, but he could not prevail.  
During the King's Expedition, St. Mars instead of preserving the King's friendship by complying with him, did all that he could do to lose it: so far from closing with his Sentiments, that he made it his business still to thwart him: and when his Majesty desired him near his Person, he affected to be absent from him. Insomuch that when his friends reproved him, and told him, how he did himself an Injury by his behaviour, he excused himself by telling 'em, that the King's Breath was so offensive, that 'twas impossible to endure it. This Language of his was carried to the King, and contributed not a little to lessen the kindness which till then he had showed his Favourite. But St Mars who thought of nothing so much as the death of the Cardinal took no notice of the King's growing disaffection, imagining it would be easy for him to regain his Master's favour, if once he were rid of his Enemy. Nevertheless, the design of killing the chief Minister was delayed, by reason of a terrible Sickness that seized him at Narbonne.  
St. Mars seeing that the Physicians looked upon it as very dangerous, thought it a piece of Imprudence, to go about to take away by violent means the Life of a Man, whom the had condition of his Constitution threatened with a speedy death. So that it may be said that the Cardinal's Sickness preserved him from the danger that attended his Life.  
Monsieur de Thou, leaving Paris, and going to the Court, at Carcassonne met Fo●terailles, who imparted to him the Treaty which he had concluded with Spain. Which surpriz d the Thou, because he had not been at the Conference at the Hostel de Venise, and had never approved the design, the Negotiation of which they had for that reason conceal d from him.  
Fonterailles had carry d this Treaty to St. Mars, who having made a Copy of it, had sent the Original to Monsieur by the Count d' Aubijous. De Thou, having taken his leave of Fonterailles, went to the King, who was marched from Narbonne, and already sat down before Perpignan. There he met St. Mars. who had so strengthened his Party, that the Army was divided into two Factions, the one of which called themselves Royalists, the other Cardinalists; and the Animosity was so great between 'em, that they were every foot ready to go together by the Ears. However in regard that St. Mars had no more than the outward appearances of the King's Favour, he pressed Monsieur to declare himself, and repair to Sedan. Upon which, his Royal Highness demanded with whom the Duke of 〈◊〉 had left orders for his being admitted into the Town. Thereupon the Malcontents, who had not been so wise as to procure one from him before his departure, sent away Monmior into Italy to get an Order from the Duke with a letter of Credence to desire it of him. But the Duke who knew not Monmior, would not entrust him with a Secret of that Importance. So that Monsieur was forced to send to him d' Aubijous, disguised in the Habit of a Capuchin. And these Journeys to and fro caused 'em to lose so much time, that at last the Conspiracy was discovered.  
The Cardinal, who during the King's Absence thought himself not safe in Narbonne, of which Marshal Sehomberg, who had but little kindness for him, was Governor, resolved to remave into the Dauphinate or Provence, for that the Counts of Sault, and Alais, who were in possession of both those Governments, were his intimate Friends. Thereupon he pretended to go and drink the Waters at Tarascon, and coming to Agd●, in order to go by Water from thence to Beaucaire, by the way he received a Packet, wherein he found a Copy of the Treaty made with Spain, not knowing from whence the Intelligence should come, and presently ordered Chavigni to carry it to the King, who could hardly find in his heart to cause St. Mars to be arrested, believing it to have been an Artifice of the Cardinal to ruin his Favourite. Thereupon he consulted Father Simon upon the News which he had received, and finding his Sentiments to be the same that Chavigni had vainly endeavoured to infuse into him, he resolved at last to make the foul Offender a severe Example of his Justice. But because it was a difficult thing to secure all the Conspirators in the Army, the King returned to Narbonne, pretending himself sick of an Ague, of which he had already had some fits. So soon as he arrived there, he caused the Gates to be shut, and gave all requisite Orders for the seizing all those that had any share in the Conspiracy. Fonterailles had already made his Escape some days before, shrewdly suspecting that the Treaty was discovered. To which purpose he had feigned a Quarrel with the Camp-Marshal d' Epernon; to the end that when his flight should be known, it might be imagined, that he was only stepped aside to avoid the Rigour of Justice which punish d Duels very severely. The King had commanded the Count de Charost, Captain of the Guards of his Body, to secure the Person of St. Mars, but those orders could not be given out so privately, but that the Favourite had secret notice of it. He was then debaushing with some of his Friends, when the Intimation was given him. However he was so much the master of himself that he never changed Countenance for the matter, but presently causing his Boots to be pulled off, and feigning the Headache, he slipped out of his Apartment which was in the Archbishop's House, near the King's Lodgings, and hearing that all the Gates of the City were shut, he betook himself to Madam Bourgeois' House, whose Husband, who made Gunpowder, was out of Town. He there got admittance by means of a Silver Key, and thought himself safe, because no body saw him go in. In the mean while the Count of Charost repaired to St. Mars' Apartment at the Hour appointed by the King; but found no body there, but the Surgeon and two of the Favourites Valets the Chambre, who could tell no tidings of their Master. Them, however he carry●d to the King, who understanding from their Lips that they knew not what was become of their Master, ordered the Count to go the next morning with the Deputy Governor and the Consuls, and search all the Houses. Charost perform d all his Orders exactly, but to no purpose; which obliged the King to leave Na●bonne, to go to Beziers, withal commanding the Deputy Governor and the Consuls to continue their search, and to set forth a Proclamation forbidding all Persons whatever to conceal St. Mars under the Penalty of Death. By which time Bourgeois, where the offender had hid himself, being returned home, his Wife told him, that there was a Man in the House, whom she believed to be the Person sought for by the description given of him. Within a little while after, St. Mars himself discovered who he was to his Landlord, in hopes, by confiding in him to oblige him to secrecy. But Bourgeois, afraid of his life and hazarding the Repose of his Family, gave notice by some of his friends to the Archdishop and the Deputy Governor, that St. Mars was in his House. Presently away went the Deputy, with the Consuls, and a Division of his Company, and Civilly accosting the Favourite, told him he had Orders from the King to arrest him, and demanded his Sword. The Deputy Governor carried him to a Chamber in the Archbishop's House, where he left him in the Custody of an Exempt of the Guards of the Body, whom the King had left on purpose. At the same time that St. Mars was secured at Narbonne, de Thou, and Savignac were arrested in the Army; and all three carried to several Places.  
D' Ozonville Lieutenant in the Duke of Bouillon ●s Guards who stay d with St. Mars to give Intelligence, no sooner understood that the Marquis was taken up, but he took Post for Piedmont, to tell his Master what had fallen out, to the end he might look to himslf. passing through Monfrin, he there found Viscount Turrenne, his Master's Brother, and imparted to him the misfortune of the Favourite. The Viscount, not knowing that his Brother was engaged in the Conspiracy, thought it his duty to give the Cardinal, notice of a piece of News that so much concerned his Repose, and sent him word withal that he had it from Ozonville, who was going into Piedmont about other Affairs. Upon which Advice, the Cardinal immediately commanded his under Chamberlain, to take Post and get before Ozonville, with Orders to the Governors of all the Frontier Towns to stop him, and to waylay all the Passes into Piedmont to hinder the Duke of Bovillon from the knowledge of a thing that so much concerned him. Thus was Viscount Turenne, by his Imprudence, the cause of his Brother's Imprisonment. Ozonville was stopped at Valence, and Saladin carried an Order to the Marquis of Plessis-Pralin to arrest the Duke. Who rightly deeming that it would be no easy thing to execute such an Order in an Army of which he was General, made a Proposal to him, to Visit Casal before the opening of the Campaigne; and while they were upon the way he sent a Messenger to Cominges, Governor of the Place, to give him notice of the Order which he had received, to the end he might be prepared to put it in Execution.  
Upon that, Cominges invited the Duke to Supper in the Citidel, and so ordered it, that not above four Persons were to set at his Table. The Duke's Train were treated in Rooms apart; so that the Duke being alone with Cominge he demanded his Sword. The Duke, no way concerned, told him he was ready to obey, provided he showed him an Order in writing; otherwise he would not suffer himself to be arrested. Cominges answered: that he had it not about him, but he would go and fetch it. In the mean time, the Duke slipped out of the Chamber, down stairs, and passing all the Sentries, got into the City before he was missed. Cominges not finding him at his return, was in a heavy Toss, as making no doubt but that his Head must have answered for the loss of his Prisoner. Presently therefore he ordered the Drums to beat an Alarm, and made the Soldiers run some one way some another after the Duke; who to prevent falling into the snare a second time got into a by-street with one Lackey that always attended him, where he spent the whole Night, leaning against a Wall, without being discovered. By break of Day he got into a House feigning that he was pursued for fight a Duel, and upon the promise of a good reward persuaded the Man that opened the Door, to hid him in a Hayloft, where he remained for some Hours. But the Soldiers that looked after him entering the House, two among the rest got into the Loft, and Poking with their Halber'ds missed him very narrowly. However, he would not stir from his Post, till he was discovered and arrested▪ Cominge overjoyed that he had recovered his Prisoner, took care to keep him safe from making a second Escape, till he was carried by the King's Order to Lion, and there shut up close in the Castle of Pierre-Encise. St. Mars and the Thou were also carried thither, and Commissioners were chosen out of the King s Council and the Parliament of Grenoble, of whom the Chancellor Signior was Precedent, to try ●em. These Commissioners condemned 'em to lose their Heads: but the Duke of Bovilion bought his Life with the loss of his Principality of Sedan, which he surrender d to the King. The Cardinal however did not long enjoy the pleasure of having triumphed over his Enemies, nor did the King himself long survive his Chief Minister. But enough of these Tragical Stories. Let us now, for a little recreation see what became of Marion de Lorme.  
She endeavoured to comfort herself for the loss of St. Mars by keeping d' Emery company, who wholly devoted himself to her, and was at such profuse Expenses to gain her Affections, that when he came to make up his Accounts with Martial, the famous Persumer, from whom that Lady furnished herself with Gloves, Fans, Pomatums, Essences and such like Toys, he found she had taken up in one year as much as came to fifty thousand Crowns. La Guillaumine, whom she had advanced from being her Lackey to be her Valet de Chambre, enriched himself to that degree by the Liberality of this same Superintendent, that he afterwards gave four hundred and fifty thousand Livers for a Prothonotaries Place in the Council. Yet was not this Lady true to her Paramour for all this. She kept Company every day with Desbarreaux who return d to Paris, after the death of the Cardinal; besides several others to boot. So far was she imitating the Fidelity of her good Friend Ma●●mois●lle d' Enclos; who thought it a stain to her Honour, to have above one Lover at a time: and though she were not so lovely as Mar●●n de Lorme, yet she had a much wit, played so delicately upon the Lute, and was so sincere that many preferred her before her friend. These happy talents induc d the Marquis of Villarceaux, who had always a good Relish, and a true Judgement, to league himself strictly with her. Upon which the Marchioness grew so jealous, that she never heard her name mention d but she fell into a passion.  
This occasioned a pleasant Story. She had by the Marquis a pretty young Lad to her Son, who began to learn Latin, and one day it came into her head to ask his Master, whither the Boy were likely to be a Scholar. The Master, to satisfy her curiosity, bid him decline Ninus in his Mother's hearing. The Boy began Ninus, Nini, Nino, and at length he came to Ninum. But then the Mother knitting her brows, told the Master, he was an Impudent Fellow to teach her Son the name of such a Punk. 'Twas in vain for the poor man to protest that he never thought of Ninon, and that he never knew her; the Mother in her fury would hear of none of his excuses, but drove him out of the Rome with great indignation and disdain. Whether this be true or no, I know not, but I had the story from the Abbot of Bois-Robert.  
Toward the end of Lewis the Thirteenth's Reign, there appear d a certain Prince, by the name of Zagachirst, who said he was one of the Kings of Ethiopia: he had an excellent Talon at Courtship, and made a world of Conquests in Paris. Madam Saulnier was so violently in love with him, that she gave him all she could wrap and rend out of her House-keeping. Which was a very great accommodation to that Prince, whose Subjects were not very exact in supplying him with Bills of Exchange. Monsieur Saulnier, who was a Counsellor in Parliament, could not brook the duration of this Intrigue which dishonoured him, and was a very great disturbance to his Affairs, he put in an Information against him for debaushing his Wife, and obtained a Capias utlegatum against Zagachrist, who was carried Prisoner to the Chastelet. The Lieutenant Criminal Tardieu drew up the Inditment against him, and when he asked him any question, observed all the Decorum that was due to the Majesty of his Character, the Party accused being always sitting and covered while the Judge stood up and with his hat off. However the Abyssiman Monarch died in Prison; nor did his Subjects ever send any splendid Embassy to demand his Carcase since they could not have his Person.   

Intrigues of the Court of France under the Reign of Lewis the XIV. till the Death of Cardinal Mazarin.  
year 1643 IN regard the present King was but five years of Age when he came to the Crown, the Regency was granted to, Ann of Austria, his Mother, and the Lieutenancy General of the Kingdom to Gaston of Orleans, his Uncle. The Queen made choice of Cardinal Mazarin for her Prime Minister, as having managed several successful Negotiations for her in Italy, and fit for the Employment. But the Duke of Beaufert in whom the Queen put a great Confidence, while she was the Object of Richlieu's Persecutions, looked upon her choice with an envious eye, because he was in hopes of governing the Queen during the Regency, or perhaps, for other reasons which his enemies attributed to him. The Queen who endeavoured to prevent division, did all she could to solder disunited minds, and to oblige the Grandees of the Kingdom to live in friendly manner with the Cardinal. For there were then no less than three Factions at Cour● Monsieurs, who was governed by the Abbot 〈…〉 Riviere; that of the Princes of the House of Bourbon, which comprehended Lewis, Prince of Conde, the Prince of Conti, and the Duke of Longueville, who but a little before had married their Sister Mademoiselle de Bourbon. The third was composed of the House of Vendosme, and the Lorraine Princes, who were alii d to the Duke of Vendosme, the Duke d' Elbeauf being his Brother-in-Law. The Ladies governed these Cabals: the Prince of Conde being engaged with Madam de Coligni, afterwards Duchess of Chastillon, Sister to the Marquis of Bouteville, which had hindered the Prince from chastizing the presumption of Coligni, her Husband, for making his addresses to Madam de Longueville. Coligni, who was proper and goodly had expelled the Duke of Beaufort from her Heart, and she had rudely broken off with him, though she had written very tender Letters to him but a little before. The Duke therefore to make himself amends for the infidelity of Madam de Longueville, intreagued himself with the Duchess of Mombason,, Daughter of the Countess of Vertus, who might well be thought the greatest Beauty of France, and sacrificed to her the Letters of the Duchess of Longueville.  
This was the posture of the Court of France, when all the Exiles were recalled. The Duke of Epernon returned out of England, the Counts of Montresor, Fonterailles, and Aubijous being assured of the Duke of Orleance's protection, began to show themselves publicly; Mesdames de Senelay and Hautefort, were restored to their places, and the Duke of Guise, who had quitted brussels, came to pay his vows to Madam de Monbason. The Duchess of Chevureuse, who was one of the Gang at the same time, appeared at the Lovure, but was coldly received by the Queen, and commanded to withdraw to Dampierre, not that she had any real design to banish her, but she would have her be beholding to the Cardinal for her being restored into Favour, that she might be oblige d to live amicably with him. In short, he went to see her the next day, and gave her five and twenty thousand Crowns and made her great offers of his Service. Immediately the Duchess put him upon the proof of his sincerity, by demanding two very important things of him. The one, that he should satisfy the Duke of Vendome for his pretensions to the Government of Bretagne, in reference to which, he had as yet been only fed with words: and the next was, that the Duke of Epernon should be restor d to his Emploment of Colonel of Foot, and his Government of Guinne. The Cardinal carried himself in both very obligingly, and offered the Duke of Vendome the Admiralty, in lieu of his Government. The Duke of Epernon was restored to all his Honours, and nothing was omitted to get the Government of Guienne out of the Count de Harcourt's hands. Madam de Chevureuse, after she had obtained these two Favours, demanded a third, which the Cardinal at first was very unwilling to grant, but at length he gave his consent. This was, that he would confer the Government of Haure de Grace upon the Prince of Marsillac, whom she had a desire to engage effectually in her Interests. After two such notable Trials of her skill, she thought it impossible for that same Prime Minister to deny her any thing; and therefore she propounded to him the restoration of Madam de Chastetau-Neuf: but in regard he could not consent to it without prejudice to his own particular interests, he absolutely refused to gratify her: which occasioned a Rupture; so that afterwards there was never any sincere correspondence or reconciliation between 'em. Chasteauneuf had been for some time already at Monrouge, where he happened to arrive the same day that the Duchess returned to Paris by another Road. And perhaps if he had not stopped there, but had come directly to Court without capitulating with the Queen, he had obliged her by that frankness to have stuck close to him. But being desirous to follow the example of Madam de Sensay, who refused to return to Paris, till she was resettled in her Employment, he gave the Queen time to understand his temper, without desiring his nearer approach. But his case was not the same with that of Madam de Sensay, who had no body to oppose her but a person for whom the Queen had no kindness, whereas Chastauneuf, besides that Monsieur the Prince's whole Family opposed him, gave an occasion of jealousy to the Prime Minister, and had no other way but by Addresses and by degrees to gain what the Lady of Honour obtained upon her first motion. The Duke of Beaufort also lost himself by the same error; for he thought the Queen so prepossessed with an affection to him, that he imagined he might be able to ruin Mazarin, by showing himself somewhat cold to that same Princess. But that behaviour of his, altered all the measures that had been taken for his advancement. He had been already in nomination for a Cardinal's Cap; but when it was seen, that he showed so little acknowledgement, orders were sent away privately to Rome, to desist from any farther solicitation in his behalf. Neither did the Duke of Vendome, his Father, carry himself with more prudence: for he scrupled to accept of the Office of High-Admiral without the Anchorage, not considering, that it became him first of all, at any rate, to have wormed himself into the Employment, and then he might easily afterwards have extended his Privileges. He was so much at variance with himself what course to take, that he made his addresses sometimes to the Cardinal, and acknowledged himself beholding to him for his Preferment; the next moment he sought an opportunity to get the Marshal d' Etrees to speak to de la Riviere, and conjure him to bring about his designs: and no sooner was he out of his sight, but he endeavour d by indirect ways to engage Monsieur the Prince to serve him. In short, there was hardly an hour past over his head, but he changed both his sentiments and his Party.  
The Duke of Beaufort therefore seeing his measures broken by the removal of Chasteauneuf, resolved to rid himself of the Cardinal, and subordained certain persons to kill him, as he went to the Palace Royal, where the Queen then lay, or else as he returned. But the Cardinal having an inkling of what was contriving against him, immediately went to the Palace Royal, though he knew the Queen was not there, and sent for all his friends. The Duke of Beaufort, who narrowly watched him, took notice of the swarm he had got about him, and rightly guessed from thence, that his project had taken air, which obliged him to defer the execution of it till the next day, when he might have a better opportunity, as he believed, because the Cardinal was to go that day to Maisons, and consequently to pass by the Hostile de Vendome. However he was still disappointed: for the Cardinal meeting the Duke of Orleans by the way, the Duke took him into his Coach, and the respect which they bore to the King's Uncle, hindered the Conspirators from making any attempt. In the Mean time the Queen being informed of the Duke of Beaufort's designs, cause d him to be arrested and sent him away Prisoner to the Castle of Vincennes.  
The Duchess imagining, that Monsieur the Prince had been the principle cause of the Duke of Beaufort's imprisonment, and of Chast●au-Neufs misfortune, resolved to be revenged. Now though Ladies are apt to flatter themselves in the opinion of their Beauty, yet her Mirror had already several times informed her, that her Charms half worn away stood in need of some younger person to strengthen her party; nor was she constrained to look out farther than her own Family. The Daughter of the Countess of Vertus, whom the Duke of Monbason, her Father, had married, was as we have said already, the most lovely Woman in France: besides, she had a secret despite against Monsieur the Prince's Sister, who having married the Duke of Longueville, had deprived her of a Lover, and therefore it was no hard matter for the Duchess of Chevureux to win her into a Confederacy with her. The Duke of Guise also, who since his return, had declared for that fair Duchess, engaged all the Lorraine Princes to embrace his Party, to which they were already well inclined out of respect to the Duke of Chevureux, who was of the same Family. These two Ladies, having contracted a strict friendship, resolved to satisfy their revenge, by attacking the reputation of Madam de Longuevi●●e. To that purpose they published the Letters which that Princess had written to the Duke of Beaufort: They also counterfeited others, which as they said, had been written by Madam de Longueville to Coligni. The Princess of Conde therefore understanding that the Duchess of Monbason had spread abroad this report, displayed her resentment, and engaged all her Friends to assist her in doing herself justice. This quarrel divided the whole Court, and made the Queen afraid lest it should revive the ancient feud between the two Houses of Bourbon and Guise. These two parties were equally matched, because the Duke of Lorraine who had married into the House of Guise, had declared for Madam de Monbason, and so this difference might be attended with pernicious consequences. And though the Queen were concerned to hinder the Duke of Orleans from uniting too closely with the Prince of Conde, for fear lest their authority should prove prejudicial to hers, yet in regard there was more danger in suffering 'em to push things on to the last extremity, she laboured to reconcile the Ladies. To which purpose she engaged the Princess of Conde, and the Duchess of Longueville to accept of the satisfaction which Madam de Monbason was ready to give 'em. Thereupon the Duchess was wrought to declare in the Queen's presence to the two Princesses, that she had no share in spreading the reports, and that she utterly disowned 'em. On the other side, the two Princesses as it had been agreed upon before, declared that they were willing to believe her, because Madam de Monbason said it. It was also convenanted by the same accommodation, that the Duchess of Monbason should avoid all occasions of meeting the two Princesses, which in the conclusion she never took care to observe.  
For the Duchess of Chevureux having invited the Queen to a Collation which she had provided for h●r at Renard▪ s House, carried her Mother-in-Law with her to assist her in the management of the Solemnity. On the other side, the Queen took a long with her the Princess of Conde, who seeing the Duchess of Monbason, would have gone back again; but the Queen bid her stay, and desired the Duchess for her sake to to walk off, and divertise herself some where else. Which she did after such an unmannerly fashion, that the Queen was highly offended; insomuch that when she returned to the Palace Royal, she sent her an Order by Guenegaud, the Secretary of State to retire forthwith to her House at Rochefort. 'Twas thought there would have been an end of this quarrel by the removal of the Duchess, but Coligny, who did not think himself sufficiently revenged upon 'em for designing to create a difference with the House of Bourbon, to which he had the honour to be allied, sent a Challenge to the Duke of Guise by the Marquis d' Estrades. The Duke accepted the Challenge, and took for his second the Marquis de Brideu. The Duel was fought in the Royal Piazza, where the Duke of Guise had absolutely the better, as having disarmed and dangerously wounded his Adversary; after which he went to part the Seconds, who fought with great courage, but without any harm done on either side. This Duel got the Duke of Guise a great reputation, and would have augmented the value which his Mistress already had for him, had he persevered in that engagement, but his heart gave way to other impressions in a short time afterwards.  
The Queens six Maids of Honour were all of 'em beautiful and wanton, except Mademoiselle de Segur, upon whom the following Couplet was made.  
But how unjust is young Segur!  
Flaxen her Hair, Complexion pure,  
But Heart so hard, that no Addresses  
Can gain her Amorous Caresses.  
But the Lady whose Beauty had made the greatest noise was Mademoiselle de Pons, of an Illustrious Family in Guyenne. Her adorers were the principal Gallants of the Court, and among the rest the Duke of Candale, the Son of the Duke of Espernon, admitted by Surviviourship to the Command of Colonel General of the Infantry. Marshal Schomburg, Colonel General of the Swisseses, the Marquis of Ville●●ier. Captain of the Guards of the Body, the Marquis of Moissans, Lieutenant of the King's Genss-de-arm, and the Duke Joyuse, Great Chamberlain, Brother to the Duke of Guise. This Latter had caused Madam de Pons' Picture to be drawn in Miniature, but had not taken it away from the Painter: in the mean time the Duke of Guise happened to go by chance to the Painter's house, where he saw the Picture, and was so charmed with it, that he put it in his Pocket, and carried it away notwithstanding all that the Painter could say to him, only he was so just as to pay him thirty Pistoles for his work. The Picture infused a desire into him to make his addresses to the Original; he discoursed Mademoiselle de Pons; discovered his Passion to her; and was so assidous in his addresses, that he dispeirced the greatest part of her Lovers. The Duke of Candale engaged himself with the Marchioness of Castellana, which was the cause of his death; she having given him too violent marks of her Love, when he passed through Avignon, where usually she lived, in his return from Catalogna, where he commanded the King's Army.  
The Duke of Joyeuse made his addresses to Mademoiselle de Guerchi, a great Companion of Madam de Pons', who sacrificed him aferwards to the Commander de Jars, of the House of Roche Chovard. The Duke therefore to be revenge d of his Brother for depriving him of his former Mistress, endeavour d to put a formidable Rival upon him, and to that intent so highly cried up the Charms of Madam de Pons to the Duke of Orleans, that he set him a gog to get the sole possession of her. Presently he became her most diligent Servant, and for some time was a great disturbance to the Duke of Guise; who understanding that his Brother had raised him up that Rival to perplex him, endeavoured to pay him in his own Coyn. Understanding therefore that the Duke of Joyeuse made his addresses to Mademoeselle de St. Megrin, who was also one of the Queen's Maids of Honour, he persuaded that Lady that Monsieur was in Love with her, and knowing there was to be a Ball within an Evening or two at the Regent's Lodgings, he desired her in Monsieurs name to give him a Blue Ribbon that she wore upon her Sleive, assuring her that the Duke desired to wear that favour of hers when he came to the meeting. The Lady being easily entreated gave Guise the Ribbon, who presently carried it Monsieur, and requested him in the Lady's name to wear it that Evening at the Ball, which he did accordingly. After which, to Monsieur, who began to be a weary of the great crowd that usually environed Madam de Pons, left her, and stuck to Mad. de St. Megrin, who had not so numerous a throng about her, and by that means delivered the Duke of Guise from the vexation of his Rivalship.  
The time being come for the Army to take the Field, the Duke of Orleans went to command the Army in Flanders; and was accompani d thither by the greatest part of the Mettled Nobility that belonged to the Court. The Duke of Guise and Marquis of Villequiers went as Volunteers; and at the same time, to give proofs of their Valour and their love for their Mistresses, they resolved at the Siege of Dixmude, to venture so far in the Trenches, that whoever of the two lost his life, the survivor might be so happy as to enjoy Mad. de Pons without a Rival. The same day the Besieged made a Salley, where the two Lovers gave signal marks of their Courage, but though neither the one nor the other were any way sparing of their persons, yet they both came off without so much as being wounded. Upon which, the Duke of Guise, who was very sincere, wrote a Letter to Mad. de Pons, wherein he highly extolled the undaunted Bravery of his Rival.  
When they reurned from the Campaign, the Court removed to Fontain Bleau, where happened a great quarrel who should have the King's Music, which Villequier had bespoke to give Madam de Pons an entertainment upon the Canal, and which the Duke of Guise would have had for the same design: insomuch that the Queen was forced to make use of her authority to decide the difference. There also happened another quarrel between the Duke and Marshal Schomburg, about a certain Lampoon which had been made upon the Queen's Maids of Honour, wherein the Duke of Guise was severely nipped; and Copies were carried to him under the hand of the Marshal's Secretary; which was the reason that the Master was accused to be the Author.  
But the Duke d' Elbeauf having notice of the quarrel, made up the business, and reconciled 'em. However the Duke of Guise being desirous to free himself from the competition of all his Revals, begged leave of the Queen that he might Court his Mistress upon the account of Matrimony; which having obtain d, he sent to her Chamber her Diet ready dressed from his own House, and ordered his own Officers to attend her, which created an extraordinary jealousy among his Competitors.  
1645. But because the Duke of Guise could not marry Madam de Pons, till he had dissolved his Marriage with the Countess of Bossu, he resolved to go to Rome, to Prosecute the Divorce before the Tribunal of the Ruota. The Action also was already commenced, and his Mother sent two Gentlemen thither to farther it. But when she understood her Son's Affection for Madam de Pons, she sent to her Agent to desist. At length the Duke himself departed, and after he had escaped the dangers of the Sea, arrived safely at Florence, where he obliged the Grand Duke to write in his behalf to Innocent X. then newly advanced to the Pontificate. When he arrived at Rome, he was kindly received by the Pope, who also at his request, granted the Cardinal's Cap to Mazarins' Brother. For the Duke was in hopes that such a Piece of Service would have engaged the Prime Minister to have favoured his Design; but he was so far from it that the French Ambassador had Order to cross and frustrate his Proceed.  
After the Departure of the Prince, Mademoiselle de Pons, not being satisfy d with her usage at Court, retired to the Convent of Chassemidi, where her Lovers Officers waited upon her every day, in the House belonging to the Convent, whether she went at the Hours of Dinner and Supper through a long Gallery which joined the separate Apartment and the Convent together. On the other side the Duke being informed of her Persecutions, lent an Ear to a Proposal that Touti made him to put himself into Naples and command the Army of the Rebels. He wrote therefore to the Cardinal to give him notice of this Proposal, and having obtained leave, he Embarked in a Shallop, and passing through the midst of the Spanish Fleet, got safe into Naples, where he met with great difficulties to be surmounted. For before his Arrival, the sole Authority was in the hands of Jennaro, who was no more than a Sword-Cutler at first, but he was constrained at last to give way to the Duke. So soon as the Duke had the Power in his Hands, he forbidden any more Plundering of Houses, which Jenuaro, suffered every day, to enrich himself. Upon which, that Brute of a Commander conceiv d so great an Enmity against the Duke, that he would never after pardon him, but joining with the Magistrate most popular among the Revolters, and no less vex d then himself to miss his share of the Plunder, they both together framed several contrivances against the Duke's Life. Besides, he had neither Provision nor Ammunition in the City, nor money to buy any: for that, the Captain of the Rebels, till then, had mentained his Men by the Plunder of the Houses only; so that the Duke was constrained to supply all his Exigencies by his own Credit. For he received no Succour from France, because the Cardinal imagined, as it was true enough, that the Duke had a design to make himself King of Naples, that he might set a Crown upon the Head of Mademoiselle de Pons. The King's Fleet that came to an Anchor before the Haven of the City, served to no other purpose but to debase his Reputation among the people, because they brought neither Men nor Ammunition. Yet for all these dissasters, nothing abated the Duke's Courage nor lessened his Affection for his Mistress. For after he had driven the Spaniards from their Principal Posts, and taken divers considerable Prisoners, he thought he might then act like a King; so that he sent a Procuration to the Marquis of Brancas, his Kinsman, to marry Mademoiselle de Pons in his name.  
The Marquis informed the Cardinal of all this, who to assure himself of the Duke's Fidelity, thought it convenient to shut up Mademoiselle de Pons in a Convent, whether she was sent by the Queen's Order. But the Lady having notice of the design against her Liberty resolved to fly with two of her Lovers, to whom she had imparted the reason of the Alarms, and who had promised both to facilitate her flight, and to bear her company. Thereupon she stole out of the Convent, leaving behind her the two Maids that were wont to attend her; but she got no farther than St. Clou. For the two Lovers not being able to agree among themselves who should have the greatest share in her, advised her to return to the Convent.  
All this while they had been so long contending one with another, till it was Night, and the Nuns were retired to their Cells: nevertheless, her Maids having notice of her return, caused the Gates of the Convent to be opened, pretending their was a Courier arrived from the Duke of Guise, that was to speak with their Mistress. By which means she got into the House where he was accustomed to eat, and so return d to her Apartment, without any discovery being made of her absence.  
However the Queen who had some inkling of her Escape, had sent, whlle she was at St. Clou, to the Convent an Exempt of the Guards of the Body to know whether she were there or no, and to speak with her. Upon which one of her Maids that most resembled her in tallness and shape, came to the Grate of the speaking-place with her face wrapped in her Handkerchif, feigning to have the toothache. The Exempt brought back word again to the Queen that he had spoken to a certain Person that was like her, but could not say it 'tMademoiselle de Pons, because he could not see her Face. The Queen therefore sent the next day the Duchess' of Eguillon and Lyancourt with Orders to carry her to the Convent of Nuns, of the Visitation of the Holy Virgin in St. Anthony's Street; which they did with so much severity, that they would neither suffer her to take her Maids along with her, nor to speak with any body. Of all which she inform d the Duke of Guise by a Letter, who wrought with so much vehemence back again to the Queen and the Cardinal, that for fear of exasperating his despair, and forcing him to treat with the Spaniards, they set Mademoiselle de Pons at liberty, and gave her leave to retire to Angloises upon St. Victor's Mote, where she was visited by all her Friends.  
The same Year there fell out another Accident which had like to have revived the ancient feuds between the Houses of Bourbon and Lorraine. The Marquis of Chabet a Favourite of Monsieur the Prince, had married the Heiress of the House of Rohan without the consent of the Duchess of Rohan her Mother, who to be revenged of her, set up a Brother, of whom as she said, she lay in privately at Paris the 18 of December 1630, upon her return from Paris, in the presence only of two Women and her Apothecary. She pretended also that she had caused him to be Baptised under Counterfeit Names, because her Husband was then at variance with the Court, that she had named him tancred, and that she had caused him to be bred up by a Lady of her acquaintance, called Mademoiselle Millet. That the Duke of Rhoan, returning to Paris in 1634, saw this Son of his several times with great satisfaction. That the Spaniards having taken Corbie in 1636. and the Parisians having taken the Alarm, she sent away tancred into Normandy, to the Father of Temon, her Steward to secure his Person, till she could take him along with her out of France. That this Son was stolen away by people unknown the 2d of February 1638. That seven Years after, she discovered that tancred had been stolen away by the order of Mademoiselle de Rohan, and carried to Leyden, in Holland, where his Pension was paid to a Merchant by his Sister. However it were, the Duchess of Rohan sent for this Son, whether real or supposed to Paris, and the Duke of Guise, at the Request of M. de Pons, who was a particular friend of the Duchess', went to meet him, took him into his Coach, carried him to his House, and declared himself his Protector, while Monsieur the Prince with great heat supported Chabet's Interest; but tancred was kill d in the Civil Wars, and so put an end to that Controversy.  
The Duke of Guise understanding what effect his Letters had produced, resolved to make one fair push for it, to open the Passages and make way for Provisions to come to the City. To which purpose he went and laid Siege to a little Island within a League of Naples, and within a few hours reduced the Spaniards that were in the Fort to Capitulate. Now in regard the place was not to be delivered till the next day, the Duke was forced to stay there all Night, and in that time Gennaro, together with the chief Magistrate of the People, and the rest of the Duke's Enemies, signed the Treaty which they had made with the Spaniards, and delivered the Principal Posts of tne City into their hands. So that when the Duke would have returned, he found the Gates shut, and an Enemy firing upon him. He sought then to make his Escape with some Squadrons that stook to him, but all the Passes were so well guarded that he was forced to yield himself a Prisoner. Don John of Austria, who at that time commanded the Spanish Army in the Kingdom of Naples, after he had kept him some for time in the Castle of Puzzuolo, sent him to Segovià in Spain, where he remained some years, and ran a great hazard of his Life, becuse he had not been owned by France.  
During his Imprisonment, Mademoiselle de Pons became unfaithful to him; for having at a Ball at Chauron the Precedents Wife's House, beheld Malicorne, the Chavalier de Hautefort's Brother, who seated himself at her Feet to discourse of Love, she took an Affection to him, and forgot all that the Duke of Guise had done for her. However, this Passion was thwarted by Malicorm's Family, who did all they could to break off this Engagement; but all their Obstacles served only to unite 'em more closely together; nor could the return of the Duke of Guise oblige 'em to a separation.  
But before we speak of the Revolutions that happened the next Year, 'tis requisite we should say something of the rest of the Queen's Maids of Honour, Mademoiselle de Chemeraut had married Lafoy Basiniere, Treasurer of the Privy Purse, and Mademoiselle de St. Lovis was wedded to the Marquis of Flavacour. Mademoiselle de St. Megrin; after she had hearkened a while to the Marquis of St. Meme, the Monsieur's first Esquire, broke off with him to engage herself with the Marquis de Broutte, Colonel of the Regiment of Navarr, whom she took for her Husband, when the Civil Wars were at an end. Mademoiselle de Nevillan made choice of the Duke of Novailles, who at the conclusion of the Troubles made her his Wife. So that there was only Mademoiselle de Guerchi that could not meet with a Husband. She had quitted the Commander de Jaret, wholly to give herself up to Jeannin of Castille, the King's Treasurer, and she carried herself with so little reservedness, that the Queen expelled her the Court. However the Duke of Vitry, engag d with her for all that, and treated her with as much respect as if she had been a Lucretia, tho' she had had four or five Children by several Fathers. More than that, she grew with Child a sixth time, and the Duke being desirous to preserve her Reputation, which he would not believe to be quite so much lost as it was, nothing would serve his turn but that she must come before her Time. 'Twas in vain to cry, she should be overjoyed to have such a Pledge of their Friendship; he was absolutely resolved she should destroy the fruit of their Amours, and sent her a Midwife, whose name was Constantine, who would needs deliver her by force: but she died in the Operation, and Constantine was hang d. The Duke of Vitry was a long time a comfortless bemoaner of her death, and preserved the Memory of her so charily, that he afterwards engag d himself with a common Harlot, because the Strumpet resembled her. And that Woman being enriched by his Liberality, married afterwards the Marquis of Goudron, a younger Brother to the House of Gamache.  
1649. The Duke of Beaufort having made his Escape out of the Castle of Vincennes, entered into a new League with the Princes of the House of Lorraine, the Parliament and the People who had taken Arms upon the Imprisonment of the Precedent Blanc-Menil, and Broussel a Councillor in the same Body; which enforced the Queen to besiege Paris. Monsieur the Prince, who then adhered to her Interests commanded the King's Army, and constrained the Mutineers to Capitulate. But the pretensions of the Prince, whose extraordinary service had augmented his Reputation, were so great, that Mazarin, fearing lest he should grow too Powerful, resolved together with the Queen to arrest not only him, but the Prince of Conti, his Brother, and the Duke of Longueville, his Brother-in-Law. The Marquis of Miossans had the Warrant and did this business with so much address, that in recompense of his service he obtained a Marshal of France's Battoon; and was afterwards called Marshal d' Albret. The three Princes were carried to the Castle of Vincennes, Guarded by the Marquis of Bar, thence remov d to the Castle or Marcousins, and from thence to Haure de Grace. The Princess of Conde and the Duchess of Longueville not being able to obtain their Husband's Liberty, put themselves into Bourdeaux, and caused an Insurrection over all Guyenne; which enforced the Queen to march thither with all her Officers to reduce that Province under her Obedience. And when the Court returned from that Expedition, Monsieur, who had suffered himself to be gained by the Cardinal's Enemies who were then called Slingers, solicited so powerfully for the Liberty of the Princes, that they were constrained to grant him their Release, and the Cardinal himself was forced to departed the Kingdom.  
When the Queen saw the Princes at Liberty, she endeavoured to regain the Prince of Conde, and by the meditation of the Princess Palatin, offered him the Government of Guyonne for himself, and that of Province for the Prince of Conti, provided he would not oppose the Cardinal's return, and that he would break off the Marriage of his Brother with Mademoiselle de Chevureuse, which was one of the Conditions upon which the Slingers had interested themselves in obtaining his Liberty. This negotiation was kept very private, and though the Slingers pressed very earnestly for the Consummation of the Marriage, the Duchess of Longueville and the Duke of Rochefoucaut left nothing omitted to cross it, for fear the Prince of Conti, should escape their hands, and join with the Duchess of Chevureuse and Gondi Coadjutor of Paris. Monsieur the Prince was overjoyed that those two Persons assisted him in his designs without any necessity of putting himself to the trouble; which made him endeavour to augment the jealousies which the Slingers had conceived of his Sister, and the Duke of Rochefoucaut. However they forbore not to send to Rome in order to obtain a dispensation upon the account of Consanguinity, and the Prince of Conti waited impatiently for it, because the Person of Mademoiselle de Chevureuse particularly pleased him, and for that he would have been glad to have quitted the Cause of the Church, which they had forced him to embrace against his will. However he concealed his last thoughts from his friends with all the Artifice he was capable of, and chief from Madam de Longueville, as being desirous she should believe that he acted only upon the score of Love.  
In the midst of these perplexities, he privately requested the Precedent Viol, who was to draw up the Articles of the Marriage, to yield to all the points that should be contested, and to surmount all difficulties. During this Negotiation, the Queen took the Seals from Chateauneuf, and gave 'em to Matthew Mole, first Precedent of the Parliament, which increased the distrusts of Madam de Chevureuse about the Marriage which she so-earnestly laboured for, because it was upon the Credit of that Minister that she had grounded all her hopes of procuring to Monsieur the Prince the Establishment for which she had engaged herself, and which was to have been ratified at the same time that the Marriage was solemnised. The only thing that cheered her up was the Prince of Contis, extraordinary Passion for her. He paid her a thousand obsequious visits, which he concealed from his friends, and more especially from his Sister, and had very long and private Conferences with L'aygues, and Marmontieres, of which, contrary to his custom, he never gave an account to any body. In short, his conduct appeared so extraordinary, that the Precedent Nemond, the Prince or Conde's particular creature, thought himself obliged to give him notice of his Brother's design, and told him that he was going about to marry the Duchess of Chevureuse, without either dispensation, or letting any body know it; that he hide himself from all his friends to treat with L'aygues, and that if he did not speedily put a stop to it, he would see the Prince of Conti taken from him by the Datchess of Chevureuse, and the Marriage consummated at a time when people thought he had most reason to prevent it. This fair warning, settl d his wavering thoughts, so that without any farther consultation away he went to the Prince of Co●ti, and began his discourse with joking upon the vehemency of his Love; but he concluded it with talking of Mademoiselle de Cheuveruse, the Coadjutor Nourmoutier and Commartin whatever he thought most prevalent to disgust a Lover or a Husband. Nor did he meet with any great difficulty in bringing about his design, whether it were that the Prince of Conti thought he spoke truth, or that he durst not make any show of misdoubting it. He thanked him therefore for his wholesome advice, and took a resolution never to think of the Duchess more; he also blamed the Dukes of Longuoville and Rochefoucavi, for not informing him sooner of what the World said of her. From that time forward they sought to break off the match without imbitterment on either side, but the Interests were too great, and the Circumstances too hard to be digested, for any body to think they could produce any other effect, than an absolute reviving and reinflaming the old Grudges, which the Duthcess of Chevureuse and the Slingers bore the Prince of Conde, whom they suspected to hay had a share in the Rupture.  
However the Precedent Viol was ordered to visit the Duchess of Chevureuse, to disengage the Prince of Conde and Conti, with some sort of Decorúm and good Manners from the promises they had made and broken in reference to the Marriage. The next day after both the one and the other were to pay her a little visit: but whither it were that they could not put that force upon themselves as to wait upon a person to whom they knew their company would be altogether unwellcome, or that the two Brothers, who fell out every day upon the most trivial occasions, could not agree about the manner of paying this visit, neither they, nor the Precedent Viol performed the intended Ceremony. So that the affair broke off on their side without observing any measures, or any way endeavouring to justify what they had done. As for Mademoiselle de Chevureuse she was so affected at this same alteration of the Prince's humour, that she threw herself into a Carmalite Nunnery, where she took the habit upon her soon after.  
But the breaking off this Marriage, which it was thought would have reunited the Prince and the Queen together, wrought a contrary effect. For the Queen imagined by dividing the Prince of Conde and Madam de Chevureuse to have united the Slingers to the Cardinal's interests, and that things would have been in the same condition as they were when the three Princes were arrested. But several different Interests spurred on the Prince of Conde to break off with the Court: he found himself no longer safe with the Queen, and was afraid of relapsing into a second Confinement. Madam de Longueville knew that the Cardinal had irreconcilably embroiled her with her Husband, and that after those impressions of her conduct which the Cardinal had imprinted in her Husband's thoughts, she could not repair to him in his Government of Normandy without the hazard of her Life or Liberty. However the Duke was desirous to have her company by all manner of ways, nor had she any pretence to avoid this dangerous voyage, but only that she stayed to persuade her Brother to quit the Court in a fury, and prepare himself for a Civil War. The Prince of Conti aimed at nothing certain, nevertheless he followed his Sister's sentiments, not knowing what they were, and was desirous of a War, as being that which would give him an opportunity to quit his Breviary, for which he had no kindness. The Duke of Nemours also most earnestly advised it; though his sentiments proceeded not so much from his Ambition as from his jealousy of Mounsieur the Prince. For he was fallen most violently in love with the Duchess of Chatillon, who had been a long time before intreagued with the Prince of Conde, and in regard he could not break off their familiarity but by separating 'em forever, he knew no other way to succeed but by a War; and that was the only motive which induced him to desire it. The Conduct of the Court, and the Prince's behaviour, soon furnished both sides with occasion of mistrust; and both parties prepared a like for a Rupture. The Prince of Conde sent the Marquis of Silleri into Flanders under pretence of disingaging Madam de Logueville, and Marshal Turenne from the Treaties they had made with the Spaniards to procure his Liberty; but in truth he had orders to take measures with the Count of Fuensalida Governor of the Low Countries, and to sound him before hand what assistance the Prince might expect, if he were constrained to a War. The Count returned his answer to the proposal according to the usual custom of the Spaniards, and promising much more than could reasonably be expected from him, left nothing omitted to engage the Prince to take Arms. The Prince also by means of Vinueil negotiated with Mademoiselle de Pons to engage the Duke of Guise in his party, obliging himself when he treated with Spain to procure his liberty, which he did effectually. Moreover upon notice of a intended design to arrest him, he withdrew to St. Maur, and by the Duke of Rochefoucaut gave notice to the Duke of Orleans of the occasion of his withdrawing out of the way. He refused to speak in private with Marshal Gramont, who came in the King's name to demand the cause of his withdrawing, and to invite him to return to Paris with a promise of all security. But the Prince returned him an answer in the hearing of all the company that were present, That th● Cardinal Mazarin were removed from the Court, his Spirit and his Maxims reigned there still, and therefore there could be no safety in that place for his person. The Prince of Conti also and Madam de Longueville repaired to St. Maur, as soon as the Prince arrived there, and for the first days there was a Court no less numerous nor less crowded with persons of Quality than the Kings, with all divertisements serviceable to Politics, as Balls, Comedies, Play, and Hunting; and the welcome entertainment drew an infinite number of fickle people, that always offer their Service at the beginning of parties dividing themselves, and which either betray or abandon 'em according to their fears or their interests. Thus Mounsieur the Prince believing he was in a condition to support himself at Pa●is against the Court, repaired thither, and sent Madam the Princess, the Duke of Enguien, and Madam de Longueville to Montrond, with a design to pass soon after into G●yenne, where the whole Province was prepar d to receive him. But when he arrived in the Capital City of the Kingdom, he found that the Cabal of Slingers were absolutely against him, in hopes that the Court would protect 'em in their opposition to him. The Coadjutor, who was the head of 'em, openly declared himself his Enemy, and never went to the Palace without a great number of armed Men at his heels; which obliged the Prince to do the same: nay, one day the two parties were ready to have drawn upon one anoher in the great Hall.  
The Prince therefore fearing lest the Slingers should be too strong for him at Paris, passed into Guyenne, where fortune was as little favourable to him, the Count de Harcourt having always the advantage over him. On the other side, the Duke of Nemours, who commanded the Army that came out of Flanders, and the Duke of Beaufort who led the Duke of Orleance's Troops, being ready to join near the River Loire, corresponded so ill together, that the Prince of Conde thought it necessary to take the command of both together, to prevent the unlucky consequences that might attend the misunderstandings of the Chieftains. To that purpose he at length departed, leaving the Count of Marsin in Bourdeaux to keep that City with the whole Province under his obedience, and to hinder his enemies from taking any advantage of the differences between the Prince of Conti, and Madam de Longueville. For the Prince of Conti could not endure she should have any Lover, and displayed those transports of his jealousy which no way became a Brother.  
At length the Prince of Conde arrived in the Army with a small train, after he had escaped many da●gers; beat Marshal d' Hoquincourt, and had some advantage over Marshal Turenne; but though fortune was favourable to him in both those enterprises, however he was desirous of Peace and was willing to enter into a Negotiation with the Court. To which purpose he sent away Gourville, with an Instrument drawn up in the presence of the Duchess of Chatillon, and the Dukes of Nemours and Rochefoucaut. Presently the greatest part of the Propositions made by the Prince were granted, nor had the Treaty been broken off, but upon the pretensions of the Duke of Bovillon, who desire d that the Duchy of Albret might be taken from the Prince and settl d upon him, in lieu of what had been promised him for the loss of Sedan. The Duchess of Ghatillon, seeing the Negotiation broken off, would needs undertake the accommodation herself, and persuaded the Prince to give his consent. For she most passionately desired Peace, out of a design to despite Madam de Longueville, whose interest it was to hinder a Pacification, that she might not be obliged to return to her Husband. The Emulation which Beauty and Courtship frequently causes among Ladies had occasioned an extraordinary feud between the two Duchess'; and they had a long time concealed their animosity; but at length it broke out with a vengeance on both sides. Nor did Madam de Chatillon confine her Victory to the obligation she had laid upon Nemours to break of all familiarity with Madam de Longueville upon circumstances no less entrenching upon her Honour then publicly known, she would also deprive him of the knowledge of Affairs, and have the Conduct and Interests of the Prince solely at her disposal. The Duke of Nemours, who was deeply engaged with her, approved this design, and thought that being able to govern and manage Madam de Chatillon's Behaviour toward the Prince, she would infuse into him those sentiments that He should inspire into Her; and by that means, that he should overrule the Prince, by that power which he had over Madam de Chatillen. But tho' the Duchess appeared at Court with more than ordinary splendour, the Negotiation came to nothing; she being the only Person that proved a gainer by it; while the Prince bestowed upon her the Lordship of Morlon in recompense of the pains she had taken.  
The Prince of Conde's Army being repulsed by the King's, was constrained to retreat into St. Anthony's Suburbs, where the Marshal Turenne fell upon it, and where a great number of valiant Men fell on both sides, and among the rest the Duke of Chatillon; and indeed all the Princess Forces had been defeated had not the Parisians opened St. Anthonies-Gate, and suffered 'em to march through the City. Nevertheless, the cares of the War did not hinder the Generals from making Love. For the Duke of Nemours understanding that the Duke of Beaufort had an Intrigue with a Woman of Quality, whose name we know not, endeavoured to deprive him of that Conquest, and his endeavours proved successful, the Lady appointing to meet him at a certain place assigned in the night time. But as he was going thither he found a Door open, where some body beckoned to him to come in. Up went he into the first apartment, and there found the Wife of an Advocate, handsome enough, and nothing at all squeamish, tho' she perceived the mistake of her Chambermaid who had introduced the Duke of Nemours instead of another Advocate who was her Mistresses Gallant. However, whether it were that the Woman's easy Condescension disgusted the Duke, or that his imagination was full of the Person that he sought for, he proved such another Person as Petronius represents Polyenus to be in Company of Circe. He did all that he could to reinliven his languishing Vigour, and spent so much time in reinforcing his wasted Ammunition that he missed his opportunity of the other meeting. However being desirous to make his excuse to the disappointed Lady, he went to her and engaged her to meet him the next day in the Labyrinth, belonging to the Physic Garden in the Suburbs of St. Victor. Now it happened that the Duke of Beaufort going t ither the same day and the same hour; heard through a thick Hedge, the voice of these two Lovers. With that he fell a listening, and understood enough to convince him, that the Duke of Nemours, with whom he was but too much embroiled already, had made his Mistress unfaithful to him. Thereupon the Duke of Beaufort challenged the Duke of Nemours, who accepted the Challenge; and though Brothers-in-Law, they met in the Horse-Market. The Duke of Nemours discharge d his Pistol first with more fury then good aim, and having missed his Blow, the Duke of Beaufort discharged his so well to the purpose in his adversaries Head, that he lay d him weltering at his feet. The death of this Duke having delivered the Prince from a Rival, his affection for Madam de Chatillon began to grow cold, and being overruled by the Spaniards, he passed into Flanders. On the other side the Duchess strove to comfort herself up for the loss that her disloyalty had brought upon her with the Abbot Toquet, who fell passionately in love with her at the Conferences they had together about the Peace; this Abbot being entrusted by Cardinal Mazarin with the management of his interests.  
1653. The Duke of Guise being released from the Castle of Segovia, in pursuance of the Treaty which the Prince of Conde had made with the Spaniards, proved not so generous as to take his Benefactors side, but returned to Paris, more in love with Mademoiselle de Pons than he was before his imprisonment, but he met not, in her, with the same sentiments for himself. Her inclinations were altogether for Malicorne; and in regard she made it her business to find out all the ways imaginable to be in his company, without giving the Duke of Guise any cause of suspicion, she engaged the Prince to take his Rival into his service, feigning that she was highly obliged to the Gentleman's Father, and that he had assisted her with an extraordinary affection during the Duke's absence; and that she might have the more easy opportunities to enjoy Malicorne, she desired the credulous Prince never to visit her but in the Evening; alleging that their intrigue had made a great noise, and therefore 'twas requisite they should manage their familiarity with so much the more discretion by which means she had her full liberty to enjoy her Favourite in the Afternoons. Nor did these scruples serve to any other end then to increase the Duke of Guise's love, who being resolved to accomplish his Marriage with Madam de Pons, without minding his former engagements, proposed to her the spending some months in Guyenne, there to purchase a little House where she might publish the Banes of Matrimony with more privacy, while he on the other side retired into his County of Yew, with the same design. Mademoiselle de Pons having accepted this proposal, he provided for her a magnificent Equipage, and accompanied her as far as Estampes. Malicorne having notice which Road she took, road privately before, and stayed for her upon the Bank of the River Loire, where she took him into her Coach, and drove away for Blois. But crossing through that City, upon the Bridge they perceived the Duke of Orleans, who retired thither after the majority of the King. Mademoiselle de Pons, unwilling to be known, kept on her Mask, though she were obliged to have pulled it off, out of respect to a Prince of the Blood. The Duke of Orleans no less surprised at her rudeness then the magnificence of her Equipage, sent a Gentleman after her, as far as Amboise, with orders to inquire the names of the persons that were in the Coach: which as it was no difficult thing to learn, so the Duke was fully informed the same Evening. Now the Duke had a secret Grudge against the Duke of Guise, and was glad of the opportunity to let the whole Court understand that the Duke was the Cully to carry on his Mistress' Intrigue. To that purpose he wrote to all his Friends what he had seen, and the news was soon spread abroad. Thereupon the Duke of Guise's kindred consulted together, which way to make him sensible of his Mistress' infidelity, so that he might be fully convinced: but no body would undertake this affair, because they feared the transports of the Duke's fury, and knew it was a difficult thing to infuse into him the belief of any thing to the prejudice of a person, who as he was fully persuaded, was never guilty of any miscarriage of that nature. However, the Duke of Chevureuse was pitched upon, as being the most proper person of any other, to act that part, by reason his advanced years would incline the Duke of Guise to listen to him with so much the more patience; and he was willing to undertake the business. The Duke of Guise had much ado at first to believe what Aged Chevureuse told him, however it fixed some kind of jealousy in his mind. Now Mademoiselle de Pons who was obliged to part with Malicorne upon her entrance into Guyenne, not being able to live absent from him, wrote to the Duke of Guise, and desired he would be pleased that she might return to Paris. The Duke, well understanding the cause of her impatience, desired her on the other side to stay for some time longer with her Parents; but she, without any respect to his request, set forward and away she came. When she was arriv'e, the Duke of Guise bribed one of her Chambermaids, and by her means got into his hands the little Box wherein she locked up all her Lovers Billet douxes, and there he found a great number of Letters, which plainly made out a formed Intrigue; besides some other Letters from the Marshal de Aumont, and Marshal d' Albert, that spoke the Language of fortunate Lovers; which drove him to his wit's end.  
Upon this, he broke off with Mademoiselle de Pons, and us d her very unworthily: for he sued her at Common-Law, for a pair of Pendants valued at 50000 Crowns, and a rich suit of Tapestry which he had given her, but with very ill success. So that the loss of his Suit redoubled his indignation, and he resolved to assault her in her own house; of which she having notice, sent for the Marshal d'Aumont, and Marshal d' Albert to protect her; the one being Captain of the Guards, the other Lieutenant of the King's Light Horse. Presently they hastened to her aid with a Body of Cavalry, which was the reason that the Duke of Guise made no farther attempt. Fain would Marshal d' Albert have made his Market of this piece of service, and exacted compliances from Mademoiselle de Pons, which she could not find in her heart to grant, because she doted altogether upon Malicorne. Thereupon that jealous Lover resolved to be revenged upon her for her ingratitude, and entering to that purpose, into a League with the Duke of Guise, they resolved to get an Order from the King to take her away by force, and send her into an Abbey in the Pyreneans, of which a Kinswoman of the Marshals was Abbess. Madam de Pons, having notice of this Conspiracy, stole out of Paris in the habit of a Country market-woman, with only two of her waiting women, and went to Brussels, under pretence of pursuing her Steward who having robbed her was fled the same way. At her departure, she left the fatal Box, wherein were all her Love Letters, with Mademoiselle de Tieure, who had been a Pensioner with her at Chassemidi, with orders to deliver it to no person living but herself, which was afterwards the cause of her breaking off with Malicorne, as we shall relate in due place. As for the Duke of Guise, he, being informed of her departure, resolved to make a second voyage to Naples, and to that purpose embarked himself aboard the King's Fleet.  
1654. Nor was the Duke the only Person that proved unfortunate in his Amours: for the Abbot Touquet, who was no less violently in love with the Duchess of Chatillon, left nothing omitted to gain her affection, but all the complacency she had for him was only in order to coaxe him out of considerable presents. One day that he went to visit her, he found her upon the Bed in a sullen moody humour, nor could all that he could say to her put her out of it. Thereupon he asked her chief woman what he should do to divert her, and propounded several ways that were not accepted. But at length the cunning Ouistrel, who was acquainted with all her Mistress' knacks, put it into the Abbot's head to carry her to St. Germons Fair, and the Maid and the Mistress acted their parts so well together, that they got out of the incontinent Abbot a Service of Gilt Plate, valued at above Fifty Thousand Crowns. However she had other Admirers, that came off at a cheaper rate; among the rest Bouchu, Intendant in Burgundy, and Cambiac, Canon in the Cathedral of Albi, who was above fifty years of Age.  
As for Mademoiselle de Pons, she made as great a Hurlyburly at the Court of Brussels, as she had done in France. The Marquis of Bouteville, a Favourite of the Prince of Conde's, and the Marquis of Fuenclara, a Captain under Don John of Austria, both offered her their Services, and to the first she lent a favourable ear. The Prince himself also, paid her some sedulities, but finding more resistance than he expected, he quitted her Lodgings full of Choler and Indignation. Some days after, he understood that Bouteville had not been so unkindly repulsed; which put him into such a Chafe, that he swore to him, he would never pardon him, if he did not quit her forever, offering on his part never to have any more to do with her. Moreover to let him see that he would be exact to his word, he obtained an order from Don John, by which Madam de Pons was commanded to leave brussels in twenty four hours, and within eight days to departed the King of Spain's Territories. Howerver Bouteville paid her several private visits, after she had received this Order, and they agreed together, that she should make a show of departing, and that after she had travelled about four Leagues from brussels, she should return in the night time, to a Chamber which he would hire for her in a by corner of the Town. Nor was she worse than her word to Bouteville, and for fifteen days together they enjoyed each other in great tranquillity. But by misfortune, Fuenclara having espied one of Madam de Depons' Chambermaids looking out at the Window, he learned by her that her Mistress lay in that Lodging Incognito: for it was not the first time that that same damsel had tasted of his liberality. Mademoiselle de Pons, finding herself discovered, would stay no longer at brussels, for fear of being affronted, but withdrew to the Hague; where she stayed all the while that the Spaniards kept the field.  
But after they had taken up their Winter Quarters, Bouteville sent for his Mistress to Antwerp, whither she was coming; but he sent her word by one of the Trumpeters of his Rement, to miss Antwerp, and return to brussels, in regard the Prince of Conde was gone to give instructions about some thing to be done in the former City. Madam de Pons, no sooner received these tidings, but she set forward, and by an unlucky mischance, met the Prince of Conde in a narrow hollow way, in his return form visiting the Frontier Garrisons, who thought he knew her, but Lainett and the Precedent Viol persuaded him to the contrary. After this happy escape, Madam de Pons arrived at brussels, and alighted at the Apartment which Bouteville had hird and furnished for her. Their first interview was very tender and passionate, and at night they parted very well satisfied the one with the other. But when she was a bed, she was astonished to hear the door open, and an unknown person come into her Chamber: She asked him what he would have; but he went out again, without answering so much as one word: presently she called her Maids, but they could give her no account of this adventure. But the next morning she was informed that the Chamber where she lodged, had been hird by an Italian Fencing Master, who had a pretty woman to his Wife of whom he was jeaous: that being to ride a little way out of Town, he had carried the Key along with him, thinking to surprise his Wife at his return, and discover whither she had not some peculiar favourite besides himself. Thereupon, not knowing that his Wife was removed, he opened the Door softly with his Key but was in so great amaze to see the Chamber so richly furnished, and to hear a strange voice speak to him, that he made all the hast he could out again. Madam de Pons told Bouteville the Story, who came in a short time after, and the Fencing Masters jealousy proved the subject of their merriment for several days together.  
At the beginning of Autumn Madam de Pons went to the Spa, where she saw the Rhine-Grave, and gained a new Conquest. He carried her home to his Palace, after she had been drinking the Waters; and there she contracted a most intimate friendship with her admirers Wife, who was no less innocent than beautiful; and reported up and down that she was highly obliged to Mademoiselle de Pons, who had infused good humours into her Husband: but there were some that were careful to disabuse her; so that Madam de Pons dreading the effects of that Lady's jealousy, returned to the Hague, where she heard that Malecorne lay dangerously sick, which obliged her to return into France.  
1656. She came to Charlevi●le, where the King s Lieutenant who commanded in the absence of the Duke of Noitmoutier, who was Governor, received her after a most obliging manner, and fell so passionately in Love with her, that he offer d to deliver up Charleville and Mount Olympus into the hands of the Spaniards, if by that means she could procure to herself a considerable Establishment at Brussels; but she refus d his Offers. Malicorne, who had by this time recovered his Health, came to see her Charleville, and after he had stayed with her some few days, returned to Paris, to prepare a Lodging for her, where she might remain Incognito, till she could reconcile herself to the Court. At his departure, she gave him a Letter directed to Mademoiselle Le Feure, which he made use of, by adding some lines in a counterfieited hand to get out of her hands the little Box wherein were all the Letters from all the Lovers of his unfaithful Mistress, by which he understood her complacency for the Marshals d' Aumont and d' Albret, during their Intrigues, and deeming her unworthy of a real Passion, he resolved to forsake her, utterly broke off with her and never saw her more.  
As for the Duke of Guise, he Intreagued himself with Mademoiselle de Gorce, who was not of so illustrious a Family but who loved him more cordially and faithfully; so that after his death, she retired into the Convent of Carmelites where at length she took the Habit upon her.  
1656. The same Year the Queen of Sweden arrived in France, the King sending the Duke of Guise to meet and receive her upon the Frontiers. Love had obliged that Princess to quit her Crown: for she was in Love with Count Magnus de la Gardia; and because he refus d to Reign with her, nor could find in his heart to love her, because he had devoted all his Inclinations to the Sister of Charles, Prince Palatine, the Father of the present King, after she had made use of all her address to procure the consent of the States of the Kingdom, she resigned her Sceptre and the Throne of Sweden to the Prince Palatine upon condition that he should marry his Sister to the Count du la Gardia. This Queen was perfectly learned in all the Sciences, spoke the greatest part of the Languages of Europe, and with as much ease as she did the Swedish Tongue. Now in regard she had a great Reputation among all the European Nations, she strove to conceal the real Motive of her Abdication, and would have People believe that Religion was the pretence. She had been bred up in the Lutheran, and was desirous to embrace the Roman-Catholick-Faith. To which purpose she came into France, and took into her Service none but Foreign Officers and roman-catholics. Among the rest, she made the Marquis de Monaldeschi, descended from a very mean Family in Italy, her Squire, and did him the Honour wholly to confide in him  
After she had spent the remainder of the Year at Paris, she removed to Fontain Bleau, at the beginning of the next; where she discovered that Monaldeschi, from whom she had had complacencies a little too familiar for a Princess to have with one of her Officers, had boasted of 'em to the disadvantage of her Reputation. She had also intercepted Letters which he wrote to his Friends in Italy; for which she first upbraided him with his Ingratitude; but seeing that he obstinately persevered in denying his Crime, she convicted him by the Testimony of witnesses that were not to be contradicted, and then delivered him to three of her Officers who killed him in the Stag●-Gallery, after she was withdrawn. Nor did the Marquis die like a Roman, but like a Modern Italian, that is to say, like a Coward, not making so much as one struggle to defend his Life, nor striving otherwise to save it, but by imploring the Queen's Pardon, which he begged the Priests that confessed him, and the Queen's Almoner, who came into the Gallery at the time they were just preparing for the fatal stroke, to sue for. The King was highly offended at this act of Violence, and sent to the Queen of Sweden to let her understand, that she would have done more prudently to have addressed herself to him, and to have demanded Justice against the Marquis, since she had no Privilege to exercise any Sovereign Authority within his Dominions. The Queen thus reprimanded, made but little stay in France, but went to Rome, where she was kindly receiv d by Innocent X. and took into her Service a Frenchman whose name was Alibert, the Son of one of the deceased Duke of Orleance's Superintendents. She continud at Rome till her death, and kept a very modish Court; the Roman Ladies that came to visit her, relaxing in respect to her Grandeur much of that severity which is usually practised in Italy.  
Before I finish these Memoirs, I think myself obliged to give some account in this place of an Intrigue wherein Love had a geeat share: which tho' it began before the Year 1657, and held on for a good while after, I thought it the best way to put it altogether. The two Persons that were most entrusted by Cardinal Mazarin, and who were employ d in his most secret Negotiations, were Gourville, who had been in the Service of the Duke of Rochefoucaut, as we have already said, and Langlade, whom he had made Secretary of his Cabinet. These two Men for some time were jealous one of another, and did all they could to prejudice each other: but understanding that neither of 'em was able to prejudice his Companion, they thought it convenient to reunite, and act by concert. To which purpose they covenanted together equally to share all the profits of their Employments at Court.  
Langlade had been a long time in Love with Madam de St. Loup, the Widow of a Colonel of Horse, who had been in good request at Court. She had set her first Affections upon the Duke of Candale, whom she improved to that Politeness which afterwards he showed in Company: for he had but a very ill favoured Air when he first appeared at Court; but she took care to fashion him. These two reconciled Enemies thought it convenient to make use of her in the discovery of such matters as it concerned 'em to know: they gave her Money to play with the Queen Mother, and engaged her to give 'em a faithful Account of what she heard that Princess say in reference to their Business. Now though these two Men acted with sincerity enough after their Reconciliation, Langlade soon perceived that Gourvilles fortune advanced swifter than his; which made him covet a more strict Union with him. He had a Sister, handsome enough, which he proposed to Gourville for a Wife; and Gourville would have gladly accepted his Offer, had his Heart been at Liberty; but he had been privately along time in love with Madam de Parville, who had all the Qualities proper to engage the most scrupulous Lover, so that he could not find in his Heart to quit her. On the other side it was his Interest by no means to disgust Langlade. So that he sought for some plausible pretence to avoid the Marriage which wss proposed to him. The most assured and the most agreeable to his Intentions was privately to marry Madam de Parville, and he strove to gain her consent. But tho' she really loved him, she could not bring herself to that submission, out of a Fantastic Humour common to Persons of her Sex. Nevertheless, as she was willing to help him out of the Labyrinth he was in, she gave him leave to tell Langlade, they were marry d, and to make good this lie, she took a Journey into the Country, pretending she went to lie in; never minding the Prejudice she might do her Reputation. Langlade deceived by his Artifice, never thought any more of the Marriage of Gourville to his Sistter; and some after he also broke off with Madam de Loup, whom he found guilty of much Infidelity. Before he came to Court, he had fallen in Love with a Damsel of Quality in his Country, called Mademoiselle de Campagnol, and tho' he durst not propose Matrimony to her, yet he exacted from her a promise never to marry any but himself; assuring her that he would send her word, so soon as he should have raised his Fortune to that degree as to make her happy. Langlade entrusted Gourville, with the assurance which he had given the Damsel, and declared with something of Sorrow and Vexation mixed together, that he thought himself not rich enough to pretend to that Alliance, as not being worth in all above forty thousand Crowns. Gourville bid him not be troubled for that, and to encourage him to go and accomplish his marriage, promised to give him as much more. Upon that assurance away went Langlade, and married Madam de Campagnol, who was overjoyed to see him so faithful to his promise. After the Nuptial solemnities were over, Langlade returns with his new Wife to Paris, where he found that Gourville had hired 'em a handsome house, and richly furnished it: The moveables he gave to Langlade, and a considerable quantity of Plate and Jewels to his Wife, besides the Forty thousand Crowns; and Madam de Parville took great care to bring the young Provanssal into good company. Thus settled together, these two fortunate lovers lived a long time contented one with the other: but poor Gourville lost his Mistress by sickness in the full vigour of his amorous heat. That Lady had been so happy as to be violently beloved by several, more especially by ●refortaine, the Brother of Lemy, Chief Commissary under M. le Tellier, Secretary of State; who refused a pension of sixteen thousand Livres which Mademoiselle de Monpensier offered him, if he would but have wholly devoted himself to her service. But he could not find in his heart to sacrifice to that Princess, the Minutes which he desired to spend with her that was the sole Soveraigness of his heart; though she had not the same affection for him, and corresponded with him only upon the bare account of esteem and friendship.  
1658. The kindness which the King had for Mazarins' two Neices, for the Countess of Soissons and her Sister ought rather to be looked upon as pastimes, than any real passion, and therefore I shall pass 'em by Mademoiselle de Mancini was convinced of the truth of this, when she was married to the Constable Colonna. Therefore said she to his Majesty, You say you love me, you are King, yet you and I must part.  
Toward the end of the year 1659., the Court removed to Lion, under pretence of a marriage in Negotiation between the King and the Princess Margaret of Savoy. The Duke repaired thither with all his Court, and great were the rejoicings for a month, but the Duke of Savoy having discovered that while they were amusing him with hopes of that Puissant Alliance, Pimantel had concluded the King's marriage with the Infanta of Spain, he took post and returned to Chamberi, where he solaced himself in the Arms of Mademoiselle de Tercesson for the affront which he had received. But though he had heaped his Favours upon her, she was ne'er the more Loyal to him for that: for the Marquis of Fleuri had corrupted the fruit of her first affections, and she gave him frequent meetings; which the Duke suspecting, commanded one of his Lackeys to attend her, with orders never to quit her. But the Marquis to rid himself of that same Spy, caused him to be thrown into the Po; which confirmed the Duke's suspicions, so that he caused the Marquis of Fleuri to be arrested, and arraigned for the death of the Lackey; but all that he paid for his folly was a long imprisonment. After which, the Duke being reconciled to Mademoiselle de Tercesson, married her to the Marquis of Cohourre, who enjoy d one of the principal Offices in his Household; but she showed him so many scurvy tricks, that he was forced to send her into France, where she met with several adventures that deserve a particular History. The King's Marriage with the Infanta was solemized in the year 1660, and Cardinal Mazarin died at the beginning of the year 1661.   

Intrigues of the Court of France under the Reign of Lewis XIV, from the death of Cardinal Mazarin, to this present time.  
IF the King's affection were no more than his pastime before his marriage, 'twas not afterwards the same. He felt a real passion, and that passion took possession of him after an extraordinary manner. Madamoiselle de la Valiere, who was one of Madam's Maids of Honour, perceived the Monarch's humour so agreeable to hers, that she fell desperately in love with him. She imparted the secret of her inclination to one of her intimate friends, and this friend not being able long to keep the secret with which she was entrusted, there were so many persons at Court who were acquainted with it, that they made a sport of it to the King.  
Now, in regard there is nothing more natural then for a man to know the persons that love and admire him, besides that the King was naturally amorous, 'twas not long before he admitted himself into la Valieres company. The first sight of her wrought no great effect, for that there was nothing extraordinary in her aspect, besides that she limpt a little: in a word she had nothing of handsome shape. However it cannot be denied, but that from the very moment that he saw her, he had something of an inclination for her, yet so limited as only to think of well bestowing her upon some Lord of the Court; but he could not resist his Stars. Three days after he went to visit Madam, who was somewhat indisposed; but there stopping with la Valiere, he was so charmed with her wit, that he could no longer curb the violent passion that forced him to fall in love with her. He stayed but a little while with Madam; but he returned the next day; and continued his visits for a month together, which made most people believe that he was fallen in love with Madam; and Madam, to say truth, flattered herself, as if the Conquest had been hers.  
These visits plainly showed that the King was passionately in love, nevertheless, in regard he durst not discover his Passion, and for that it was contrary to the rules of decency, to be every day at Madam's Apartment and never see her, he found a way to give it out all over the Court, that he was in love with her. He talked of her continually: he extolled her Air and her Beauty to the Skies, and spoke it openly, that since Mancini's departure, he had never spent a happy minute but in the company of Madam. Nevertheless, 'tis certain that all the Proofs he gave of his being in love with that Princess were only his being continually with her, and his always whispering her in the ear before company, when at the same time he talked to her only of things indifferent, or of lafoy Valiere, after which he fell into most dreadful dumps. Nor did Madam know what to think, not dreaming that the King could ever love a Damsel so far from beautiful, that she was the daily subject of the Duke of Roquelaures jokes and Lampoons.  
But as passionately in love as the King was, he was a long time before he durst make known his affection, nor did he do it but after an indirect manner. One day that he was walking in the Park of Versailles, he bemoaned himself after a manner most extremely tender, that he had not found himself well for some time. La Valiere, who was present, showed herself to be very much afflicted at it, and gave marks of an extraordinary tenderness. The King, who perceived it, took her aside: He told her, that she was extremely obliging to be concerned for his health; and at the same time declared to her that she was the absolute Mistress of his Life, his Death and his Repose. La Valiere was at a stand, and for a while profoundly silent. The King upbraided her with insensiblity. But then, she made him an answer that altogether charmed him. Their conversation lasted three hours, and was only interrupted by a shower of Rain. All the rest of the day, lafoy Valiere moved with a pensive air, and the King appeared to be no less restless in his thoughts. The next day they met again, and their discourse was still of the same nature. The same day the King sent her some Jewels of very great value, together with the following Billet.  
D' ye desire my death? tell me sincerely, Madam. It behoves me to satisfy your longing. All the World most earnestly seeks my disturbance. 'Tis given out, that Madam is not cruel, and that fortune wishes me well; but all this while they neither say, that I love ye, nor that you reduce me to despair. You bear me a kind of tender affection that overwhelmes me. For the love of God, change your manner of dealing with a Prince that dies for your sake. Either be altogether Compassionate, or altogether Cruel.  
The King was not satisfied with this Billet wherein he had displai d all his tenderness, but the next day in the most magnificent apparel that ever he put on in his life, he went to visit her at Madam's Apartment; at what time the Maids of Honour that were with la Valiere, withdrew, out of respect. On the other side, the King resolving to know his destiny, and to push on his good fortune, accosted her in a kind of trembling posture. In conclusion, he told her all that a tender and violent love could infuse into a person of wit inspired by an amorous passion. But then Mademoiselle de la Valiere, who was already in love with him, could no longer hold out against so strong a Battery, so that the King returned happy. He went to visit her the next day; this familiarity lasted for fifteen days. But an accident having discovered the Intrigue, the two Lovers no longer dissembled; which extremely perplexed Madam, who really imagined that the King had had a kindness for her.  
Her vexation therefore to see that the King had prefer d on of her Maids before her, caused her to speak of it to both the Queens: however she forbore to signify any thing of her resentment. The Queen Mother, who was well acquainted with the King's humour in this particular, was terribly alarmed, and resolved forthwith to speak of it to lafoy Valiere; which she did with so much embitterment, that two days after, she put herself into a Convent.  
The King, who knew nothing of this Adventure, was extremely surprised, when he heard of it. He presently got a Horseback and commanded a Coach to follow him. So soon as he came to the House where she was enclosed, he demanded to see her. She appear d at the Grate, whereafter he had made her a thousand tender Vows and Protestations, he bid her immediately come forth. She excused herself at first, alleging the ill usage of both the Queens. To which the King replied that he was King, and that he would fain see who they were that durst control his Actions. At length therefore she came forth, and put herself into the King s Coach. Upon the Road the King propos d to provide a House and a Train for her. But that seeming too glorious, she avoided it for that time by only returning him submissive thanks. Thereupon the King carried her himself to Madam, and recommended her to her care, which redoubled the Princess' Despite. Besides that the King continued his Visits with more assiduity than before. He openly sent her Presents the most magnificent that Sovereignty could purchase. All this while, the King continually urging her to take a House, she at last consented, and he gave her Biron-House, which he went himself to see furnished with the Richest moveables that were in France. The Queen was almost at Death's Door for Grief; but her Amends lay in her own hands; what could not be avoided was to be endured. At the same time also the King fell sick at Versailles. La Valiere was more prudent then to visit him. However, his Indisposition not proving dangerous, at the same instant that Liberty was allowed for Persons of Quality to pay him their Devoirs, she wrote to him the following Lines.  
'Tis the General Report, that You are very ill. It may be, 'tis only to afflict me. 'Tis likewise said, that You are disturbed at this last Rumour. In the midst of these Perplexities, I beg the Life of my Lover, and then, am ready to abandon the Kingdom, and all the World besides, Wherefore, if You love me, will you not permit me to pay You the Duty of a Visit? Adieu; send for me to morrow; that is to say, if my Disquiet will suffer me to live till then.  
The King kissed the Billet a thousand times and ordered Madam the St., Agnan to bring Mademoiselle la Valiere to him. His Orders were obeyed: he saw her with a thousand Transports of joy; and exceeded so far in his Amorous Caresses with his Mistress, that he fell into a Relapse. But that Excess of his produced no bad effect, in regard that la Valiere, nine Months after, was brought to Bed of a Young Princess that proved a most enchanting Beauty.  
The King's Love was so violent, that some time after he became jealous of his Mistress. He went to Visit her every day, but he only mused, or fell a reading all the while he was there, and sometimes left her without so much as hardly speaking to her. His jealousy became so prevelent, that he fell into a dreadful fit of Melancholy. However in regard that jealousy most commonly proceeds from an excess of Passion, he was taken, one Evening, with so violnet a Pain in his Head, and such frequent Vomitings, that the Duke of St. Agnan, to whom the King had imparted his jealousy, thought it convenient to give la Valiere notice of it. He also put her in mind, that it became her to leave nothing omitted that might contribute to his Cure. Lafoy Valiere made answer, that the King's Humour had extremely afflicted her, but that she could not condesend to beg Pardon for that she was never Guilty of: that in a word, she had reason to complain of the King, but that His Majesty had no reason to blame her. The King's Indisposition redoubls d: but as violent as his Headache was, his Love was yet far more impetuous. He bid the Duke of St. Agnan go immediately to his Mistress, and acquaint her with his Malady; who presently returned with the following Billet.  
Did I but know the cause of your Pains, I would apply a Remedy, tho' it cost me my Life. But Good God how much in vain it is to tell you what I say. 'Tis not I that can dispose of Your Majesty's happy or unlucky Days.  
The King was charmed with the manner of his Mistress' writing, who presently after came to see him, together with Madam de Montauzier, who retired, out of respect, to the end of the Room with the Duke of St. Agnan, while la Valiere sat upon the King's Bed. Where she carress'd him with a thousand tender expressions, which so enchanted the King, that he begged her Pardon a thousand times. This their Conversation lasted five hours, and then they parted after they had reciprocally vowed to Love each other Eternally.  
The two Queens were at their wit's end, to see the King's excessive Devotion to la Valiere, nor was their any thing which they left omitted to take him off from this extreme Passion. But when they found that all their Efforts prov d fruitless, they thought there was no other way but for Father Anat, who was his Confessor, to interpose his Spiritual Authority. Which he did, and that too, after so severe a manner, that the King thanked him for his good Counsel and his Service; but told him withal, that for the future he would have no other Confessor but his Curate. Thus was Poor Father Anat turned out of favour, to the great grief of his Brethren, whom he forgot to consult upon this ticklish point.  
Sometime after it came into the King's head, that he would have both the Queens receive la Valiere into their favour. To which purpose he spoke of it to Madam de Montauzier, who went at the same Instant by his Order, to the Young Queen's Chamber. Madam de Montauzier was very much perplexed about the complaint she had to deliver: however she ventured upon her message; but the Queen would by no means listen to her. Three days after she miscarried; which had like to have cost her her life. The King appeared to be very much afflicted at it; and one day as he stood by the Queen's Bed side, she desired him, in the presence of the Queen Mother and a Clergyman of Note, to bestow la Valiere in Marriage. To which the King made answer, that if lafoy Valiere were so disposed, he would not be against it, and presently bethought himself of the Marquis of Vardes for her Husband. But the Marquis who was in love with Madam de Soissons, and had no mind to any of the King's Mistresses, laughed at the Proposal. And afterwards the Marquis of Vardes and Count de Guiche, made such bold Lampoons upon the King's Amours, that they were both banished the Court.  
The King, who had a vehement affection for la Valiere, and understood how terribly she was discomposed upon the Proposal of Marriage, went to see her three times a day. La Valiere however could not forbear upbraiding the King with the little love he had for her, since he could consent so easily to resign her into the Embraces of another. But the King gave her such potent Reasons for what he did, that his Mistress was satisfied.  
The King's Assiduity and Affection for la Valiere thus redoubling, they who approved not his Familiarity would needs proceed to violence. One night certain Persons in Vizards got into her Chamber by the help of Ladders made of Cords. But she avoided the danger, I know not how, and the King appointed her Guards, and a Steward to taste all the Meat that was carried to her Table. People discoursed according to their Fancies upon this Adventure; but 'tis an easy thing to understand from whence the Blow came, without being a Conjurer.  
Nevertheless, lafoy Valieres Enemies were not at all discouraged: there was nothing which they did not attempt to deprive her of the King's Affection, The Duke of Mazarin, who pretended to a world of devotion, demanded of him a Particular and private Audience, which was granted him. ●he Subject of their whole discourse was upon a Vision which the Duke had seen that the Kingdom should be quite ruined, if the King did not utterly abandon lafoy Valiere 's Company: withal he told his Majesty at length that he had a Commission from God himself to give him that fair warning. And I, replied the King, advise ye from myself, to take a great care of your Brains, which are in a deplorable condition, and to restore like a Good Christian what your Uncle the Cardinal has robbed from the Kingdom. Upon which the Duke made him a low Bow, and withdrew full of shame and confusion.  
Two or three Months after, the Queen would needs make her last Efforts. She talked to him herself of the scandal which he brought upon his Kingdom by a familiarity that was the sport of all the Courts of Christendom. To which the King replied, that Kings and Queens had always been the talk of the world, and that she knew by experience that she herself had not been spared. Which so nettled the Queen to hear him touch upon that string, that she never after opened her Lips to reprove him for his Amours. The next day la Valiere was brought to bed of a Prince. The King who was almost all alone with her when her Pains came upon her, was at a loss; and it may be said, that he was half her Midwife. Soon after he made her a Duchess; and still the King continued his Visits to her; and one day he found her in a deep Melancholy. For as for her Beauty it was never very charming; so she was grown so lean after her last lying in, that it was a great mortification to her. Now in regard she perceived that the King was sensible of her Pensiveness, she confessed to him, that she was afraid he had not the same Affection for her which formerly he had. For, added she, do you think that my Looking Glasses does not inform me that I have almost lost those allurements that render Mistresses agreeable to their Lovers. Yet this I dare say, that you will never meet with otherwhere, what you have found in me. I understand ye, replied the King; But wherefore do you thus by your unjust suspicions affront a Prince that adores and ever will adore ye as long as he lives?  
This Protestation charmed lafoy Valiere. Nevertheless, 'tis certain that the King began to miss those charms which he had found in her till then; tho' he was convinced that he loved her, when he consulted his own thoughts. In a word, he was never taken with her Beauty, but with her Wit and her Behaviour, and something I know not what, which it is impossible for a Man to express.  
About this time it was that Madam de Montespan appeared at Court. And in regard she was a Person of a Transcending Beauty, she laid great designs to ensnare the King's heart. But as yet lafoy Valiere possessed it so entirely, that all her Plots proved ineffectual. So that finding the King so little inclined to entertain her, she cast her eyes upon Monsieur, and he complied, however he had another Mistress who disgusted Madam de Montespan.  
It may be said, that the King had still some little inclination for la Valiere. But for all that, at the same time that Madam de Montespan displayed all her temptations at Court to render him sensible of her Charms, he had some little kindness for the Princess of Monaco. That new Mistress was nothing cruel. However the King grew weary of her in a very little time.  
M. de Lausun, who at first had no small share in the Princess of Monaco, was so enraged at the Infidelity of his Mistress, that he paid all his vows to Madam de Montespan. Nor was he long before he obtained her last favours. Thus M. de Lausun's Happiness became the public discourse of the Court, and the King reflecting upon the good fortune of his Fovourite, of whom all people gave out, that he was beloved by the most beautiful Woman of France, this made him look upon Madam de Montespan, as a Person that had all those perfections which really she had. And from that time forward it was, that he began to fall off from his affection to la Valiere; for she was still called by that name tho' she had the Title of Duchess conferred upon her. Madam de Montespan, on the otherside, had too watchful an eye, not to perceive as soon that the King began to have a growing kindness for her, and from that very time she endeavour d to the utmost of her power to settle herself at Court. This she thought she might be able to do, ● once she could but wind herself into a strict amity with Madam de la Valiere. Nor did she attempt it in vain, while Madam de la Valiere sought on her side to disburden into the bosom of some sincere friend her sorrow for the extinguishing flames of her Lover. And the forwardness of Madam de Montespan so highly pleased lafoy Valiere, that they became great friends, in outward appearance, especially on Madam de Montespan's part, who had her aim, and hated at the bottom of her heart a Rivaless whose favour with the King she was labouring might and main to undermine. On the otherside, the King who began already to feel something of tenderness for Madam de Montespan, was overjoyed to find her everyday with la Valiere. For which reason he was the more assiduous in his visits. But Madam de la Valiere soon perceived that 'twas not for her sake that the King so frequently came to see her, but that Madam de Montespan possessed his Inclinations.  
She complained to the King therefore after a most tender manner, and the King without evasion, and as obligingly as he could told her that Madam de Montespan was one of the most beautiful women that ever he saw, and that he verily believe●d she had a passion for him. To this the King added, that she had no reason to be surprised at it; that the change should be no prejudice to her; that he would always preserve a particuliar esteem for her; and that he thought she had no cause to be dissatisfied. Madam de la Valiere melted into tears. But then, the King repeated what he had said. He declared to her, that he desired she should live with Madam de Montespan as she had done: she promised to do it: and indeed, she lived with her Rivalless with that unanimity and concord as surpris d all the Court; for all the world knew that la Valiere was not the favourite Mistress.  
The King visited his new Mistress every moment, and because the delicacy of his love could not endure that another should share of her favours with him, he resolved to remove Monsieur de Montespan from her, under pretence of advancing him to greater employments. But Monsieur de Montespan refused every thing, and it happened also, some days after that he extremely abused his Wife. Madam de Montespan complained, upon which the King exiled the incommodious Husband, who was fain to withdraw with his Children into his own Country near the Pyrenians.  
He put himself into mourning as if his Wife had been dead: but for all that, the King sent him a considerable Sum of Money, which he stood in great need of, as being very much in debt.  
As for Madam de la Valiere, she knew that the King had forsaken her, and therefore strove to comfort herself the best she could, one day to which purpose she sent the King the following Verses: 

All things decay, there's nothing Permanent,  
Nor will  
The self same Object still  
An Amorous Heart content.  
Past Ages ne'er knew Love to be Eternal,  
Nor will the Future find it always Vernal.   

Such are the Secret Laws of Constancy,  
That few  
Her just Commands pursue.  
Not to be curbed your Roving Wishes fly;  
To day what pleases, tomorrow you disgust;  
Such an unequal Humour who can trust?   

Such spots as these, great King, your Virtue's stain,  
You loved me once, but wavering like the wind,  
Your heart is to another now resigned;  
While I in vain  
Lament the loss of many blissful hours;  
How different are my Sentiments from yours!   

Darling of Venus! to whose power I own  
My past delight, and present woe,  
Why did you not on him bestow  
A Heart like mine, or such a one on me  
As others have, without sincerity.    
The King was extremely pleased with these Lines; and the Answer which he returned to it some few Minutes after was, that Kings gave those Laws to Love, which Love gave to other men; and made her fresh protestations of his eternal esteem. Now in regard she expected no other Answer, she resolved to put herself into a Convent, and made choice of the Carmelites Nunnery, where, some time after, she took upon her the Religious Habit.  
Certain it is that Love and Despite had an equal share in this Retirement. Nevertheless she was willing that the world should attribute it to better motives. And indeed the following Verses, that were soon after dispersed abroad seemed to be made in order to the same design.  
Two Potent Kings to have me were at strife,  
One, King of Heaven, the other, King of France.  
Heaven's King, Victorious, here to lead my life  
Has brought me: Blessed exchange! most Happy Chance!  
For now, the Spouse of God am I, no more  
Than a Terrestrial Monarches Miss before.  
This Retirement of la Valiere gave equal satisfaction to the King, and M. de Montespan. For after all, the Presence of an Abandoned Mistress could not choose but be a continual reproach of the King's inconstancy and the Protestations of perpetual love which he had made her. On the other side Madam de Montespan, who was not unacquainted with lafoy Valieres Genius, was afraid lest she should recover the King's Affection.  
The King had not been so long absent from his new Mistress, but that she was big with Child, when la Valiere betook herself to the Carmelites. However she hide her great Belly as much as she could, and was privately brought to bed of a Son.  
All this while Lausun strove to comfort himself up in the Embraces of another; and corresponded only as a friend with Madam de Montespan at least to outward appearance. But this same friendship, whether counterfeit or real, lasted not long. For Lausun and Madam de Montespan fell out, and quarrelled to that degree, that the King was forced to interpose and make up the business, tho' Lausun had given out those speeches that were no less injurious to the Monarch of France, then to the prejudice of Montespan, and very little to his own Honour. For whatever favours a man receives from a woman are never to be boasted of, tho' it be his ill luck to break off with her.  
Lausun had like to have been turned out of favour, but after this reconciliation, which obliged him to beg pardon of M. de Montespan, he was as great as ever with the King.  
The Ambition of this Favourite was so inordinate, that nothing could satisfy it. For tho' he were but a bare Gentleman; yet he aspired to a Marriage with Mademoiselle de Montpensier. And indeed that Princess had a real kindness for him: insomuch that she protested to him, that if the King would consent to their Marriage, she was ready to do her part. The first time that Lausun mentioned it to the King, he was extremely surprised: but by degrees he was wrought upon to listen to it; and so many Engines were set at work, that he promised not to oppose the Match; notwithstanding the disproportion between a single Gentleman and a Princess of the Blood.  
Lausun was too hairbrained to use his good Fortune with moderation, and therefore committed a fault upon this occasion, which was never afterwards to be repaired. For instead of Marrying Mademoiselle privately as he ought to have done, when the King had given his consent, he spent a world of time in making preparations for his Nuptials, and in the mean while the King altered his mind, at the solicitation of all the Princes of the Royal Family, who throwing themselves at his feet, besought him to break off the Match, and retract his promise.  
Lausun believing that Madam de Montespan had played him this trick, went to her house, and fell a railing at her like a Tinker; he exclaimed against her in all places where he came, and so little spared the King himself, that the King caused him to be arrested, and sometime after sent him to Pignerol, where he was shut up in a Chamber with Iron Grates, without any Company but a few Books, and a Lackquey, who was told that if he would stay with his Master, he must resolve to be as close a Prisoner as himself.  
Madam de Montespan found herself very easy, after she was thus delivered from Lausun, who was wont to tease her with stories very ungrateful to her Ears. The King who loved her as passionately as he had done lafoy Valiere, had four Children by her, of all which she lay in privately.  
Madam de la Valiere, who had a real love for the King, a love not grounded upon any score of Interest, never procured any advantage either for her Friends or her Relations. For out of an overstraind niceness, and to show that she had a love for no man living but the King, she never sued to him for any favour for any of her acquaintance. Therefore Marshal Grammont told her very well to the purpose one day when she complained to him, that every body had forsaken her since her Rivalless came into credit, That while she had an opportunity to be merry herself, she should have taken care to make others merry, if she had had a mind that others should have pitied her, when she herself had an occasion to mourn. But Madam de Montespan took a quite different course. No considerable Employment was conferred, but upon her solicitation, and by her intercession. She it was, to speak properly, that bestowed every thing, even to the very Ecclesiastical Benefices. She advanced all her kindred to that degree of Grandeur, to which otherwise they could never have attained. In short, she procured for her Brother, who was no more than the Count of Vironne, the Dignities of Duke and Peer and General of the Galleys, and the Battoon of Marshal of France. Which caused a Person of the First Quality in France to say, speaking of Marshal de la Fueiltade and her Brother, that one was Marshal of the Sword and the other Marshal of the Scabbard.  
Never did Mistress better understand to manage her Lover's humour than she did; and that too, when the King had not all that kindness for her that people imagined: for 'tis said that Madam de Lude, who was but a 
* A Virgin that lives like a Nun, but makes no vox, nor renounces her Estate.  Canoness of Lorraine, frequently shared with her the favours of the French Monarch; which gave an occasion to the following Epigram.  
Valiere was a Commoner,  
Of Noble Race fair Montespan,  
Du Lude had in the Church her Place,  
And all the Three to serve one Man.  
But would you know the main design  
Of the most great of Potentates?  
The thing's as clear as Noon-Sunshine,  
He would unite the Three Estates.  
Certain it is that la Valiere was of no very Noble Extraction. Her Enemies were therefore wont to say, after the King had made her a Duchess, that 'twas but a few months ago, that she was hardly a Gentlewoman: and Madam, who had been disappointed by the King upon her account, never called her otherwise then the little Citizen's Daughter of Tours.  
However it were, the Canoness of Lorraine was the cause that Madam de Montespan spent many a night without closing her eyes. Yet this was not the Rivalless that caused the change of the King's Affection.  
At the same time that M. de Montespan thought her Affairs in the most settled condition, and that she looked upon herself to be most solidly fixed in the King s Affections, a young Damsel surprisingly Beautiful was preferred to serve the Mounsieurs Duchess as one of her Maids of Honour. This was Mademoiselle de Fontange, who might be said to be a Masterpiece of Nature.  
But before M. de Fontange appeared, M. de Montespan's Enemies made use of all their Artifices to set the King against her. They told him a thousand stories to put him out of conceit with her. But all their Artifices failing; they thought there was no other way but to give him a home stroke upon the Conscienceside. The Confessor who succeeded Anat, had more wit then to undertake the Employmeut. He knew what it had cost his Predecessor, and the reproaches it had brought upon that silly Jesuit. However they found out a Preacher who had the courage one day in his Pulpit before the King to tell him the story of David and Bathsheba. 'Tis true, he seemed to turn his matter another way; but all men easily perceived what he aim d at. But after he came out of his Pulpit, the King said the Preacher had made a very good Sermon, and away he went to visit Madam de Montespan.  
This pious fraud not succeeding, it came into their heads to show him something of reality which might infuse into him an Aversion and Contempt of his Mistress. And the treachery of a Serving Maid gave 'em a favourable opportunity. This Maid being bribed delivered into their hands a Billet of M. de Montespan's hand writing; which they counterfeited so well, that by adding one single word, there was a necessity for the King to fall into the snare, and to acknowledge himself betrayed. The Billet was given to the King as if it had been found by accident. He read it; nor was it possible for him to distinguish the difference of the Character. That which was added, though spoken after an Ambiguous manner, presently galled him, and put him into such a rage, that he resolved forthwith to find out the Mystery, Away he fling to Madam de Montespan, whom he found reading a Courtly Novel. What! Madam, said the King with a kind ofscornful Air, have you not left of these trifles yet? 'tis true, replied Madam the Montespan, that there is nothing of Solidity in these sort of books, and I must acknowledge that they are no more than the Dreams and Visions of others that create in us either joy or sadness. Nevertheless I am so weak sometimes as to suffer myself to be seduced, and I could not read the Infidelity of a Mistress mentioned in this little Story without paying some tears to the misfortune of her Lover. I wonder, replied the King, that a thing so customary to your Sex, should raise your passion to that degree. He went on with his discourse in the same tune, and carried it on so far, that Madam de Montespan began to suspect some mystery. Alas! Sir, said she, such a Prince, so rarely endowed as yourself, have no reason to fear any such thing, had he to do with the most fickle and inconstant of Women. In a word, they who possess a Merit so Illustrious as Yours, are above these suspicions. I so flattered myself, hitherto, replied the King; but Kings are deceived as well as other men. This Conversation not a little troubled M. Montespan, who was altogether innocent of what the King believed her Guilty of, and therefore knowing herself to be free from all reproach, she answered only with tenderness and tears. Which so mollified the King, that without seeking any farther for the satisfaction which he desired, he withdrew, after he had privately conveyed the Billet into Madam de Montespan's Pocket.  
The King had no sooner left her, but M. de Montespan pulling out her Handkerchief to wipe her Eyes, saw the fatal cause of her misfortune fall at her feet. She took it up, opened it, read it, and soon perceiv d the soul play of her Enemies. Now it was of that Importance for her to prevent as soon as might be the King's first Impressions from sinking too deep into his mind, that she went to him immediately, and having made it out to him that something had been added, the King was convinced, and discoursed her with a thousand obliging tendernesses.  
It never could be discovered who the Authors of this Artifice were. The Billet was so dextrously conveyed into the King's hands, that 'twas impossible to have other then weak suspicions. Some thought this Blow to have been given by Madam la Valiere, who in the midst of the Austerities of her Cloister, could not be insensible of her disgrace. Others threw this Intrigue upon one of the Queen's Ladies of Honour; and others upon some of Lausun's friends; and the latter perhaps were not mistaken.  
One would have thought that after such a satisfaction as this, the King should not have changed his Affection so soon. But he no sooner beheld Madam the Fontange, but his heart was smitten, and he began to make her magnificent Presents. Madam de Montespan was alarmed at it. She flattered herself however sometimes that the King would not forsake her. But at length she saw so much coolness in him, that she no longer doubted but that he was altogether in love with Fontange: nor was she deceived.  
The King who was smitten with her Charms from the very first moment that he saw her, commanded the Prince of Marsillac to tell her in his name that he had a Passion for her, and that he should be the most happy Monarch in the world if she corresponded with his Tenderness. Nor did the Prince of Marsillac meet with any great trouble in persuading her to grant what ever the King demanded, for that she was brought to the Court with no other design but to please him. She presently therefore made answer to the Prince of Marsillac, that he had those Powerful Attractives, that she must be altogether Insensible, not to be charmed with the Passion of the greatest Monarch in the World. However, that she could not rely upon what he had said to her, so long as Madam de Montespan was still beloved; but if she could assure herself that the King had no farther thoughts of his Old Mistress, she might then build upon his Affection.  
The Prince of Marsillac to make a quick end of the business, and to pride himself in the success of his Embassy, told Madam de Fontage whatever could be said upon the like occasion; that the King had then no kindness for Madam de Montespan, but what was only habitual, and he swore and vowed that M. de Montespan was utterly obliterated out of the King's heart, and alleged so many reasons for it, that Mademoiselle de Fontange acknowledged the Adorations which she had always paid the King in her heart, nor could she conceal the transports of her joy.  
Madam de Montespan, who soon after had notice of all that had passed, was at her wit's end. She left nothing omitted to regain the the King's Affection. And the Marquis of Lonvois who was one of her sincerest friends, advised her to watch an opportunity to speak with the King in private. She did so, she sighed, she sobbed, complained, and wept a shower of Tears. But all could not force from the King any more than these words, That he would visit her as he was wont to do, but that a King ought to have his own Liberty. In a word, he returned to her as he was wont to do, but always wholly taken up, with his new Passion.  
The first time the King saw Mademoiselle de Fontange was at the Tuilleries. At what time he had a long Discourse with her, wherein he acquainted her after a most tender manner with his love, and told her, it should be her fault, if in loving him, she did not meet with all the sweets of a most sincere Correspondence. La Fontange answered with an Air so full of discomposure, that the trouble of her mind furnished her with new Charms. And the King perceived from that very moment that her Heart was not made of Adamant.  
In a word, when they parleyed, he told her, that he saw well her shamefacedness and modesty had hindered him from delivering to her his whole mind. After which he desire d her to write to him; adding withal, that he flattered himself with having one of her Letters within a few hours, wherein she would express the sentiments she had for him with more freedom, than perhaps his Presence would permit her to do.  
Mademoiselle de Fontange, who had accompanied to the Tuilleries a Lady of the Highest Quality in whom she very much confided, and who had left her with the King, walked a while with that Lady, transported with joy and satisfaction, because she well perceived that, the King had a real love for her. After that they took Coach together, and all their discourse was about what the King had said, most obliging, to her. And in regard she told the Lady that the King had desired her to write the same day, the Lady advised her not to fail; for that she ran a hazard of losing her good Fortune if she did not yield him a blind obedience; and that it was high time for her to declare herself. And therefore, added she, writ immediately such a Letter as Love shall dictate to ye. Mad. de Fontage followed her advice; so that she was no sooner got home, but she writ to the King as follows.  
Tho' the vast difference there is between yourself and me, aught to oblige me to look upon your Majesty's Addresses as a piece of Gallantry rather than a real Declaration of your Affection; nevertheless, if it be true that real lovers, when they have once beheld each other, know the most secret thoughts of their own hearts, 'twould be a vanity for me any longer to conceal from you, the sentiments which I have discovered in yours. I must acknowledge sincerely, Sir, that the Merit alone of your Person had already disposed of me, before your Majesty made known to we your inclinations. Pardon me however, if I have striven against this Passion from the first minute that I perceived it growing in me. I did so, but it was not out of any reluctancy that I had to cherish what appeared to me so aimable, only I was afraid, Sir, to displease ye. Judge of my Inclination by so ingenious a Confession of my weakness.  
It would be a difficult thing to express the Raptures the King was in, after he had read this Letter. He could not forbear reading it over and over, and repeating the last words. He was so well satisfied with his new Conquest, that some time after, he conferred the Office of Grand Huntsman of France upon Marsillac. Which drew upon him the following Lampoon.  
On Favour's Ocean with full Sailes  
Marsilliac Swims: for tho' he fails  
In what belongs to Horn and Hound,  
Yet cause he had the happy chance.  
To hamper kindly in his Hay  
The King his Master's Royal Prey,  
The King, for service so renowned,  
Grand Huntsman made him of all France.  
The sme day that Mademoiselle de Fontange wrote to the King, the Monarch went to see her privately, and after that was very assiduous in his visits to her. Two days after, he appointed a Hunting Match where were all the Ladies of Distinction that belonged to the Court, and among the rest Mademoiselle de Fontange made her appearance in more than ordinary Splendour. The King never left her, and after he had given her the pleasure of seeing the Hunted Deer run just before her, they went aside into the thickest part of the Wood where they stayed for some time: and from that day forward it was that M. de Fontange still found herself somewhat indisposed. She had on an Embroidered Justtaucore of very great value, which the King had presented her, and wore a little flat Shepherdess' Hat covered with a Carnation and white Plume of Feathers, which wrought a wonderful effect. 'Twas a most lovely day, but toward the evening, when the King was returning home, there was a gentle Breeze, which forced M. de Fontange to leave off her Hat. After which she tied her Head Attire with a Ribbon, the Knots of which hung down a little upon her Forehead; and that same dress so highly pleased the King, that he desired her not to dress herself otherwise all that evening. The next day, all the Ladies appeared with their Heads dressed after the same manner. And this was the Original of those large Towers that Women still wear: a Fashion that deriv d itself from the Court of France over all the Courts of Europe.  
The next day after the Hunting March, Madam de Fontange was troubled with extraordinary pains in her head and faintings of her heart, so violent and sharp that she could not forbear complaining: nor would the King still from her, overwhelmed with grief to see her in that condition. At what time all of a sudden casting her Eyes upon the King, with a tender and languishing Utterance, Dear Prince, said she, was there a necessity that such great Pains should so speedily follow such great Pleasures? But 'tis no matter, added she immediately, I love the cause of 'em, and shall do, while I live. The Passionate manner of her delivering these words raised the King's Pity and his Love withal to that degree, that he Embraced her with those Transports that he never had shown for any of his other Mistresses. He vowed to her that he never loved any one before so dearly as he loved her, and that he would love her eternally.  
After the King had declared himself for his new Mistress, he so little observed any Measures, that the whole Court knew within two Hours after, all that had passed upon this occasion, Madam who had as great an aversion for Madam Fontange as she had for La Valiere, and who was no less vexed to the heart and the Soul for having supplied the King with two Mistresses, that had quite balked her of the King's Affection, made it the subject of a thousand Nipping Taunts and Jokes. Nor could Madam the Montespan forbear from doing very near the same thing. So that one Evening the King found the following Verses under his Toilete.  
Trouble not thus, Great Pince, your Brains nor Breast,  
A Hero like yourself too much of weakness shows,  
Thus to disturb your rest,  
And labour under Female throws  
To see Fontange in a Fainting-Fitt;  
For Fainting-Fitts ne'er killed a Mistress yet.  
How Kings themselves the loss of Reason prove,  
When once submitted to the Laws of Love!  
Then kerb yo● Sighs, and Lamentations cease,  
For this is not the only time, in short,  
That your Fontange's Heart  
Has been tourmoiled with Fainting-Fitts like these.  
The King, who had been told some days before, that Madam had asserted in Company, that M. de Fontange had been guilty of Intrigues in the Province from whence she came, made no question but the Verses proceeded from her hand, on of some of her Friends. Upon which he declared that the affront touched him so much the more to the quick because the Attack was made upon his Mistress' Honour, the most sensible part of a woman. On the otherside M. the Fontange desired Justice to be done her for the Calumny that was thrown upon her; and presently let fall a deluge of Tears. But the King told her the best Justice he could do her was to despise the Lampoons and Satyrs of her Enemies, and she agreed and Satyrs that 'twas the best course they could take; wherein she acted very prudently.  
In the mean time the King refused no favour that Mademoiselle de Fontange desired of him. She could but speak and have, and more than that, she obtained what he refused to several Princes. He grunted Pensions to the greatest part of her friends, and conferred upon one of her Sisters the Abbey of Chelle, very considerable for the yearly Revenue. And that new Abbess was Conscecrated with that Pomp and Magnificence, as it would be a difficult matter to describe. The Ceremony was honoured by a great number of Prelates, almost all the Court was present, and M. de Fontange appeared with so much splendour, that she drew upon her the Eyes of all the Spectators as much as the Abbess who was consecrated.  
The faintings of the Heart which Madam the Fontange complained of, continued till she declared herself to be big with Child; which obliged the King to confer upon her the Title of Duchess, as he had done upon la Valiere, and to provide her a House; for the maintenance of which he allowed her a hundred thousand Crowns a Month. But in regard she was extremely liberal, the Duke of Novailles was made choice of to regulate her Expenses, to the end the Sum might hold out. And then, they began to call her Madam.  
So soon as Madam de Montespan was fully convinced that she was to make room for her Rivaless, she began to think of retiring, and gave it out openly. 'Twas thought at first, that she would have increased the number of the Nuns at Fonterault, because she had made some journey's thither, but she never had any thoughts of confining herself to such a Melancholy Life. She withdrew indeed, but was so far from removing from the Court as her Predecessor had done, that she tarried there, paid her Visits as she was wont to do, and order d her Affairs after such a manner, that she had always some little share in the Cabinet Intrigues. This Retirement was better understood than Madam de la Valieres, but she had reason without doubt for what she did. However it were, the King forbore not his Visits to Montespan but went to see her sometimes, which made her give out that her Credit with the King was still greater than ever it was. That the King's Love for Fontange was but a Transitory unsteady Affecttion from which he would recall himself as soon as he did from that which he had for Madam de Lude, which lasted but for a few days; lastly that she had reason to believe that her Lover would return to her again, more enamoured then ever he had been: her Favourites also and Friends at Court endeavoured to give a Reputation to these Reports. But the more clear-sighted finding that the King abandoned himself wholly to Madam the Fontange, began to seek her favour, who still procured great Preferments and advantages to those for whom she had a kindness.  
Madam de Montespan who saw that no body could be ignorant any longer of the King's extreme Affection for his new Mistress, became so highly exasperated, that she began to rail against it openly; which very much offended the King.  
Some time after Maden●oiselle de Fontange was brought to bed; but her Lying-in proved mortal to her. She fell into such a Consumption that they who knew her before, hardly knew her when they saw her; which was still attended with such a Flux of Blood, that every body gave her over for lost. All people believed her to have been Poisoned, and all people accused Montespan. So far were all the Remedy's from doing her good, that her languishment continued every day. The King Visited her duly, and manifested after a most tender manner the excess of his Grief, to see her reduced to that condition. But in regard she knew there was no cure for her Distemper, she besought the King that she might retire from the Court, adding, with tears in her Eyes, that she had nothing more to do in this world but to prepare herself for Death.  
The King who was sensibly touched and disordered by his being present with her in her affliction, granted her Request. Thereupon she retired into a Convent in St. James' Suburbs, where the Duke of Fueillade went to Visit her from the King two or three times a Week. But in a little time after she did, leaving after her death more visible marks of her being Poisoned, then were to be discovered during her sickness, by the report of the Physicians.  
The King's Grief was so extreme, that he could not refrain from showing it; and certain it is, that he had taken his revenge upon Madam de Montespan after a more than ordinary manner, had he not had prevailing Reasons to dissemble his Resentment. For he was fully convinced that Madam de Fontange had been sacrificed to the Jealousy and despair of that Ambitious Woman, who had flattered herself that she should still enjoy the King's Affection. In the mean time to let the world see that he was really sorry for the loss of Fontange, and that the Esteem and Tenderness he had for her was not extinguished by her Death, he gave a rich Abbey to one of her Brothers, married one of her Sisters to great advantage, and did an infinite number of other things in favour of her Family; which did not a little mortify Madam de Montespan, who imagined, that she being delivered from her Rivaless, the King might take a new Fancy to her. But she deceived herself. The King never went to see her but upon a Politic Account: and resolved for the future to renounce all manner of Amorous Intrigues.  
A little time after Madam Fontange's death, Mademoiselle de Monpens●●r, who was still in love with the Court of Lansan, threw herself at the King's feet, and obtained her Lover's Liberty after ten Years Imprisonment. 'Twould be a hard matter to express the joy of that Princess, when the understood from the King's own Mouth, that Lansan was at Liberty, nor the Ecstasies she was in when he arrived at Paris. However he did not lodge in her House, tho' he were permitted to go when he pleased to see her: So that he was which her from Morning till Night. This Familiarity continued for some Month's; and Madam de Montpensier was so charmed with him, that she settled upon him two considerable Lordships, with the King's consent. Nor could Lausun be more assiduous than he was in waiting upon her. But in regard he loved that Princess in hopes of espousing her, when he found it impossible for him to marry her, because the King had positively declared against it, he took a distaste against his Mistress, and he took himself to a Lady that wanted neither Youth nor Beauty, and whom he found to be nothing flinty hearted, Mademoiselle de Montpensier was not long before she found that Lausun was unfaithful to her. Presently therefore she set Spies upon him in the Country▪ and was soon informed that he frequently Visited a Young Widow with whom several Persons of Quality in Paris were deeply in Love. She complained to him of his infidelity: nor did Lausun altogether disown it: and whereas Mademoiselle upbraided him that tho' a Princess she had debased herself to a willingness to make him her Husband, he vowed to her, after he had begged her a thousand Pardons, that he would never see the Lady more; and he was as good as his word●: for, for five or six Weeks he was her most diligent Servant. But one Evening, as he was walking alone in one of the Allies of Luxemb●●gh Garden, while Mademoiselle was in another, talking about some affairs with a Minister, a Lacquiey without a Livery delivered him a Billet, wherein he was desired in the name of a Lady of great Quality to meet her the next day at eleven a Clock in such a Church. Monsieur de Lausun failed not to meet, and the Lackey, who waited for him at the Church door, carried him to a House that was not unknown to him. Presently he understood the Mystery. The Lady received him blushing, but immediately recovering herself, she told him, that being endow d with such extraordinary Qualities, he ought not to wonder that others made the first advances, and that she should esteem herself happy if she had not been so forward in vain. The Lady had so much wit and so many Charms, that M. de Lausun, who never dreamt of such good Fortune, stood like one in a Trance. But being recovered from his surprise, he spoke as the Lady desired, and swore a thousand Oaths that he had been enchanted with her Person above six Weeks together, but that the profound respect he had for all Persons of her Sex, and for those especially that held that Rank in the world as she did, had kept him from declaring his Passion. Some days after Lausun gave the Lady a Visit. But Mademoiselle, who was become extremely jealous and watched him where ever he 〈◊〉 had presently discovered this new Intrigue: which he must renounce, or else there was no longer Peace with Her.  
It may be said that Lausun was got clear of one dreadful Prison to be confined to another more less loathsome for in short he had no longer any kindness for Mademoiselle, but there was a necessity for him to live in torment upon more than one account. He was at his wits end with his unhappy rate. However he was resolved to torment himself, and to engage himself no more in Amorous Intrigues.  
This Resolution lasted for some Weeks, and Mademoiselle was proud of herself, that she had fixed him at length. Never had he appeared so full of Passion, nor so affectionate to her. The Princess never stepped a step, but Lausun followed her. He was with her at her uprising, and he never parted from her till Midnight; and he showed her so many testimonies of his tenderness, that a Person more quick fighthed then Mademoiselle de Montpensier might have been perhaps deceived. However he had an utter Avesion against her, and whatever Resolution he had taken to resist the Charms of any new Inclination, he could not forbear falling in love with a Young Duchess next to whom he sat in a Box at the Representation of an Opera. He told her without any more ado that he loved her. The Duchess harkened to him and they became the most intimate friends in the World. But he was soon crossed in his Amours by the Jealousy and Reproaches of Mademoiselle: so that he found himself constrained to quit his Conquest, which brought upon him a Tertian Ague that held him two Months before he could be cured. He had recourse to an English Physician, and three times taking the Quinquina rid him of his troublesome Companion. But the same remedy could not cure him of his disgust of Mademoiselle.  
The Jealousy of that Princess made such a noise, that all the whole Court knew the Count of Lausun had had three or four Mistresses within the space of five or six Months. Insomuch that the King could not forbear laughing, and saying at the same time, that he could not but pity his Kinswoman, whom he had told a thousand times what would befall her; Lausan being a mere Shatter brains.  
Mademoiselles Enemies raised a thousand stories about him, which rendered her ridiculous▪ and Lausun, for his part became the subject of all the Town-Raillery. But that which was the greatest vexation to him was this, that it got him so ill a repute among the Lady's, that there was hardly a Chambermaid would admit his Caresses for fear of his Mademoiselle. The Young Widow that he fell in Love with first of all, and who was almost distracted because the Count had forsaken her, sell upon him one Evening before a great deal of Company, and played upon him so cruelly for his Inconstancy, and about his Ague, the marks of which a Wit as he was, he had nothing to say for himself. Thereupon he retired so ill satisfied with himself that he had returned no better answers to the Lady's Raillery, that he went and vented all his Spleen upon Mademoiselle, where he committed two or three absurd actions, and his Ague took him again the same Night. Thereupon he returned to his Quinquina; but his Ague being fixed, his touchey humour became Insupportable.  
But as Mademoiselle de Montpensier had brought upon herself so many Mortifications, so neither was Madam the Montespan exempted from 'em. For the death of her Rivaless had no way render d her condition more easy. 'Tis true the King made her frequent Visits; but they were cold, and to little or no purpose; and at length she perceived that the King took more delight in the Company of Madam de Maintenon, who was Governess to his Children, then in Hers. In a word M. de Maintenon was the Woman in whom the King put all his confidence. So that Madam de Montespan was again at her wits-end. For in regard it was she who had made the other what she was, she could not endure that the Work or her own hands should prove serviceable to her destruction.  
The whole Court was no less surprised than Madam de Montespan to see the King so assiduous to a Woman of whom a thousand stories had been told, and who was known by most People to have been no better than Scarron's Widow. But the King loves Wit where ever he meets with it; and every body knows Madam de Maintenon to be infinitely Witty above the common rate of her Sex, and that there is no Intrigue so difficult which she is not able to carry on.  
The first time that Madam de Montespan saw her, she soon perceived what she was capable of: so that without any hesitation, she retained her in her Service; and that Crafty Woman understood so well how to insinuate herself into her good liking, that she entrusted her with all her Secrets▪ she saw all the Letters that Madam de Montespan wrote to the King, and all those which the King wrote to her. And when Madam de Montespan was at a loss, how to compose a Letter, Madam de Maintenon did it for her, and had incomparable success. One day she wrote one for the Countess, with which the King was enchanted. The King knew well that it was above his Mistress' Genius, and and therefore would needs know who wrote it. Should I tell ye replied Madam the Montespan, you would hardly believe it. But not to hold ye any longer in suspense, I do protest to ye Sir, that it was Mistress Scarron who dictated to me. I had such a cruel pain in my Head that day, and your pleasure was so absolute that I should return you an answer, that I was forced to have recourse to her Assistance. From that very day the King had a great desire to see her, and he was so well satisfied with her Conversation, that he told her a thousand pretty things the most obliging in the World. At the same time he recommended her to Madam the Montespan to take particular notice of her, and took such particular cognizance of her himself, that he purchased for her the Signiory of Maintenon, which acquired her the Title of Marchioness: and a Herald had order to fetch her descent from Joan d' Albret Queen of Navarr, who after the death of her Husband, married privately with one of her Gentlemen, who pretended to be the Father of Madam d' Aubigny, Madam de Maintenon's Grandfather.  
However it were, for many People exclaimed against this Pedygree, Madam de Maintenon found herself of a sudden to be both the King's Confident and Favourite, and the only Consolation of that Monarch after the death of Madam de Fontange.  
Madam de Montespan did all she could to put the King out of conceit with her; but hitherto nothing has succeeded. The King has such a value for her, that he does not disdain to consult her sometimes in the most Ticklish Affairs of State: and as things now stand, the King would rather quarrel with the whole Royal Family then with her. Nevertheless, she has often undergone most Terrible Mortifications. But still the King's favour has upheld her in the midst of these petty Anguishes of her Mind, to which the Joys of great People and Favourites are generally subject. She has had several Letters delivered to her that have ripped up all the Occurrences of her Life. Among the rest that which follows was one that was dispered up and down by her Enemies.  
'tis the wonder of the World, Madam notwithstanding you are mounted to so high a Pinnacle of Favour, that you should so little know yourself. We may very well apply to you the Tale of that vile Aminal, which carrying the Relicques of a Deity, thought it had been himself to whom the People pai their Adoration, and nor the Idol with which he was laden. A little consideration of what you were would do you a great deal of good. 'Tis requisite to put you in mind of it; for you look as if you had quite and clean forgot it. All the World knows Madam, that when Monsieur Scarron talked of Marriage all his friends laughed at him. They told him that for such a Decrepit Creature as he was, to Marry, was to list himself in the Family of Actaeon, and that because they should not reproach him with any thing of that nature, he made choice of a crack Vessel. By good Fortune Scarron lit upon yourself; he married ye Publicly, which made him say very wittily, that they could not lay it in his dish, that his weakness was the cause of his Wife's Wantonness; and no doubt but he was in the Right. As he was a man of Wit and Sense, be left ye to your own Conduct; and all the World knows how you behaved yourself. Should the Good Man return from the other world, how hearty would he laugh to behold your Metamorphosis. And as he was a Man of a good humour, I make no question but he would bring such an Action against the King, as would puzzle the Parliament, who could not but do him Justice, and sentence you to quit Royal Honours, and reassume your old Titles of Mistress and Gooddy such an one. Adieu, Beldame; take my advice and remember what you were, I give you wholesome Counsel.  
Madam de Maintenon was not much puzzled to know from whence the Letter came, so sfoon as she had read it. She burned it in cold Blood, as she did all the rest of the same nature which she received, without making the least complaint to the King: and for others that were so full of grating particulars, she show d 'em to her Monarch to make him sport; and those sort of Confidences, tho' indeed they were but Trifles, never fail d of success. In a word Madam de Maintenon has managed her business so well, that she triumphs over all those that envied her. The King has a friendship, a value, an esteem for her, and should the Monarch die before her, she has an apartment in St. Lewise's House at St. Cyr, where she is to reside as long as she lives, and to be maintain d, with all the Persons that belong to her Train, by the Revenues belonging to the Foundation of that House; and to enjoy all the Honours due to a Foundress. Care is also taken to canonize her before hand; for notwithstanding all the Inventions of Obloquy, she has met with Panegyrists who have made it out, that tho' Scarron, who married her at Sixteen Years of Age, made choice of her to solace and refresh his Eyesight, and to discourse with her when he had no other Company, rather than for any Carnal Society, yet the indisposition of her Husband was no injury to her Virtue. They have owned, that those Persons who fell in Love with her, were not the Richest, or of the best Quality in the Kingdom, yet that she has merited a universal Esteem among all Men, for the prudence of her Conduct, and that she ought to have this Justice done her, that she observed a fair Conjugal Amity without practising the Principal Actions that belong to it.  
As for Madam de la Valiere and Madam de Montespan, they have as much reason to be satisfied as Madam de Maintenon. It may be said, that when they were Favourites, the King idolised 'em; and tho' he grew weary of 'em at length, he never forgot that they had been his Mistresses. Both the one and the other have been always looked upon with distinction, and the Children which the King had by 'em have been advanced to Dignities and Matches the most Illustrious in the Kingdom. The Count of Vermandoise, the Son of lafoy Valiere was made High Admiral o● France; and Mademoise●●e de Blois his Sister was married to the Prince of Conti, last deceased The Prince of Conde who was retired to Chantilli at that time, and who by that means approved not that match in his heart, was constrained to undergo the trouble and vexation to see the Title of High and Potent Lord, which was always allowed him, left out in the Contract of Marriage which he was to sign. Colbert presented him the Contract; but he refused to set his hand, and went with his Complaints to the King; but the King after a rough manner bid him sign it; so that he was forced to do it, tho' enraged to the Soul at the contempt that was put upon him: which was not the only Affront which had been put upon that Prince after this Retirement. Mademoiselle de Tours, the daughter of Madam de Montespan and the Count of Tholouze, died before they were Married; but Maidemoiselle de Nantes, and Bloise their Sisters were as advantageously bestowed as Madam the Princess of Conti; the first to the Duke of Bourbon, and the other to the Duke of Chartres. Lastly, the Duke of Maine, M. de Montespan's eldest Son, Duke of Aumale, Prince of Dombes, Count d' Eu, Peer of France, Colonel General of the Swisseses and Grisons, Governor of the Province of Languedoc, Colonel of a Regiment of Foot, Knight of the King's Orders, and Officer General of his Arms, Married Mademoiselle de Charolois, the third Daughter of the Prince of Conde that now is, and the Nuptials were Solemnised upon the 9th. of March.  
'Tis not to be express d what Respect the whole Court is obliged to give to the King's Natural Children, even the Princes of the Blood are constrained to do the same; which Posterity will hardly believe. One day that the Prince of Conde was discoursing with some Courtiers, the Duke of Maine, who was then very Young, and some other Noblemen s Children of the same age made such a noise, that they interrupted their discourse, which was very serious, so that the Prince was constrain d to bid the Children be quiet. Which the Duke of Maine hearing made answer, that he thought his Highness had not been afraid of noise, he that had made so much in the world. Immediately the Prince went and repeated these words to the King, with the same gaiety, to outward appearance, as if he had been to have repeated some witty Expression or genteel Act of the Duke of Burgundy, Nay, the Prince finding it was a Course which of necessity it behoved him to take, carried his deference a little farther: for when he went to the Count of Vermandois, to let him know how much he was pleased with the Marriage of M. de Blois his Sister to the Prince of Conti, he durst not presume to take an Elbow Chair that was presented him, but sat him down upon a Plain Chair, because the Count made use of such another.  
Nevertheless all these deferences cannot hinder the whole Court from making private Comments and Censures upon these odd kind of mixtures, which is the reason that many are turned out of favour.  
In a word, they who have bestowed the highest applauses upon the King, have not forborn to say, that it has been one of the greatest defects of this Monarch to intermix the Blood of Bourbon with that of la Valiere and Montespan. And indeed, altho' the Princes and Princesses who are the Issue of the King's Amours, are Persons of great virtue and merit, these Alliances can never be justified. However, if we consider it never so little, the King could not dispense with doing as he has done. For certain it is, that under a new Reign, when there is generally a universal change of the Face of affairs, the Duke of Maine, would have been but little valued had he not Married Mademoiselle de Charolois, or some of her Quality. Therefore 'tis merely out of Policy, wherein Natural Affection has been only listened to, that the Blood of la Valiere and M. de Montespan has been mixed with the Royal Blood of Bourbon. And whatsoever may be said against it, there was in this respect a certain Generosity of the King, which balances the Irregularity of these Matches.    
FINIS.   

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THE General History of Europe, contained in the Historical and Political Monthly Mercuries, from the Late happy Revolution in November, 1688. to this present Time. Giving an Account of all the Public and Private Occurrences, Civil, and Ecclesiastical and Military, that are most Considerable in every Court: The interest of Princes, their Pretences and Intrigues. etc. and generally all that is curious. With Political Reflections upon every State. Done from the Originals, published at the Hague, by the Authority of the States of Holland. In Four Volumes: With an Index to each Volume.  
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A Brief Display of the French Counsels, Representing the Wiles and Artifices of France, in order to ruin the Confederates, and the most probable ways to prevent them.  
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