THE HISTORY OF Don Fenise. A NEW ROMANCE, Written in Spanish BY Francisco De las-Coveras.  
And now Englished by A PERSON OF HONOUR.  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Prince's Arms in Saint Paul's Churchyard. 1651.   

To the READER.  
WE shall not need to throw away words in commendation of this History. Those that ●ave read it, will save us that la●our; and those that never saw it, 〈◊〉 now they censure it, will speak ●o late: For, the Book hath already had honourable Test from the ●est Judgements in the Court and Academies of Spain. If you ●inke them partial; believe an Enemy (one of the greatest Wits of France) who in a Letter, since printed, writes thus to his friend: Though I have little reason to dote on aught that but tastes of Spain, which fights against us, and in one Summer robbed me of a Brother and a Nephew: Yet I confess I am much enamoured on the Book you sent me, The History of Don FENISE: The Plots are so well managed; the Passions clean and natural; the Language chosen and proper; and the whole Discourse so perfectly well wrought, that I am sorry it was written by an Enemy to our Country. I wish he that speaks so excellently of Lovers, did not hate France. We allowed them more Cunning, not more Wit. But this Author hath the happiness of his own Nation & of ours.  
By this time perhaps you ●ike the Book, but doubt the Translation. 'Tis now in your power, and must speak for itself. All I ask (and 'tis no budge Request) that you would not pronounce upon it without comparing the Original: Otherwise you may do more wrong to the Translator than he hath done to the Author.   

The several Histories contained in this Book.  


THe History of Fen and Laure pag. 10.  
The History of Don Lovis pag. 26.  
The continuation of the History of Laure pag. 35.  
The continuation of the History of Don Lovis pag 45.  
The history of euphemy and Theodore pag. 60.    

The Second Book.  

The History of Rufine and Don Jovan pag. 88  
The History of the Tragic Loves of Marcel pag. 116.  
The History of solitary Simeon pag. 128    

The Third Book.  

The History of Frederick pag. 147.  
The continuation of the History of euphemy pag. 161.  
The history of Don James pag. 206.    

The Fourth Book.  

The History of Don Antonio pag. 250.  
The history of Don Charles and Violante pag. 295.  
The history of Don Garcia and Constance pag. 308.     

ERRATA.  
Pag. 8. Rooks for Rocks. p. 16. lin. 31. a Chi●●goo●. ib. l. 32. s●●rec●. p. 20. l 17. could for told. p. ib. l. 18. deal when. p. 36. l. 28. Splendour. p. 41. l. 26. Heride for Lerida. p. 3 13. Lult. then for the.   

THE HISTORY OF FENISE.  

The First BOOK.  
IT was towards the Evening of one of the fairest days of the Spring time, when Poleron, one of the most accomplished Shepherds of the Mountains and Meadow, neighbours of Toledo, was near unto a Fountain entertaining his Thoughts; but so sad, that the various beauties of the Plants & Streams could but ve●y little recreate him. A misfortune that had befallen him kept him in this country place, where in expecting that the Destinies might be favourable unto him, he served the Shepherdess Jacinte, whose Renown did blemish the lustre of the fai●est of that Amiable habitation, but his suit was not pleasing unto her: She shown him nothing but contempt, the assured recompense of those that merit her the least. She was the only daughter of a Shepherd, and dear beloved of another, who did possess much more of the goods of Fortune than did Poleron, the which did render her equally vain and disdainful towards those that courted her, and who did endeavour by honest ways to get access near to her. In such manner, that playing too much the discreet, and reserved person, she made her disdain to appear.  
Nevertheless Poleron did not cease to continue the Vows which he had made to serve her, wherein he went beyond his Rivals, and wherein he had so good grace, that he was envied of all those which had the same intentions. This Shepherd Walking about the Fountain, discoursed within himself of the extravagancies of Lovers, and the divers effects of that passion, as having a most particular knowledge thereof, when as remembering himself of certain verses that did agree with his opinion, he song them for to recreate and entertain himself with the Echo of those Rocks, expecting that Jacinte would pass near this Fountain, where she came almost every night, when she might not b●● importuned with the heat of the sun: they were these.  

A Complaint against Love.  
Thou wants as much judgement as eye, no odds,  
Thou little devil which subdu'st the gods;  
For thou hat'st those that love thee, only those;  
And like an insolent Proud Victor  
Never is thy rigour stricter,  
Then 'gainst such as submit to thy dispose.   

In all thy actions Treachery presides,  
And th' Army of thy Passions Fury guides,  
That 'gainst the Laws of prudence will advance,  
Thy food is poison, and no reason  
Can thy wild Discourses season,  
by knowledge is by height of Ignorance.   

When a poor Lover, that hath worn thy chains  
Imagines he hath taken sufficient pains,  
And his Remuneration looks to have:  
Then thy severity regarding  
No high merit, for rewarding  
●ayes him with torments like a galley slave.   

None more than I, feels how thy sorrow wafte●,  
None less than I, thy sweetness ever tastes,  
●he scorns me, to whose favour I pretend  
I chase, she flies, what strange misfortune  
Crosses me, still to importune  
〈◊〉 she resolve never to condescend.   

●●at such sad pressures may find some relief  
〈◊〉 little yet to mollify my grief  
●rom hope alone, vain hope, there drops a balm:  
I in the air am building Castles  
With the wind my Fancy wrestles  
And in a tempest searches for a calm.   

Maugre the Demon's power that blinds my sight  
And drives into an eternal night,  
Yet through the storm my passage I extort.  
But 'las, when I have long been striving  
To scape death, and am arriving,  
My fate is, to be shipwrackt in the Port.   
The Shepherd ending these last verses, remained in so profound a consideration of their subject, and so satisfied with his singing (for there is no Musician that doth not take pleasure to hear himself) that after having ended his music, he was a little time without perceiving the motion of certain bushes which were near him, astonished, it may be, to see a man habited after another fashion then those who were accustomed to visit them; in the end hearing this motion, and seeing that there was no storm to cause it, he was a little surprised; but his admiration ceased by the presence of a young Gentleman who came out of the thicket, who coming to him said thus. Shepheard the travels wherewith Fortune persecutes me, and the favour that nature hath done you, hath conducted me hither, and although that being brought up amongst these Rocks, it seems that you ought to retain their hardness, nevertheless this charming voice wherewith you animate this Forest, hath persuaded me that I should find near unto you the easments and succours which I search, that heaven having given you the graces of an Angel, you should not be unprovided of the feelings of a man.  
Poleron hearkened most attentively to this discourse which gave him knowledge of the good wit● of him that had held it; for words being the daughters of the understanding do give witness of her capacity; and by an answer in the same stile, thanked him for the good opinion that he had conceived of his courtesy, and promised him to serve him in all things he should have need of; if peradventure, said he, your high condition do not contemn the lowness of mine.  
This discreet manner of speaking pleased very well this Gentleman, who answered the Shepherd, that upon the first occasion he would let him know, the cause which had obliged him to have ●ecourse to him: and after many discourses he ●old him as a friend, that it did concern him greatly to quit those habits too full of lustre, and to disguise himself in poor clothes like unto his, to the end that he might not be known during the time that he resolved to remain amongst these mountains, and also to live more familiarly with the other Shepherds, and not to give them any suspicion.  
This resolation seemed very good to Poleron; and for to put it in present execution, I will, said he, go fetch you the better of two suits, which I only wear upon our Village feast days; and when you are accommodated, I will say that you are one of my kinsmen, which for my sake hath left his country, to pass his life here with me; so you shall be in all liberty, and suspected of no man.  
This Gentleman had scarcely lost the sight of Poleron, when he perceived come out of the same place, from whence he was come before, three men well mounted, whereof one had his visage masked and led by a Peasant; as soon as they did perceive the gentleman, fury did so strongly transport them, that all three drawing their swords fell upon him to massacre him. He did what he could to defend himself, and shown all the courage that could be imagined, but all in vain, for the party was not equal.  
The discourse which Poleron and this Gentlemen man had together, was heard by Jacinte, & Lizeron her Brother, which were hidden amongst the nearest bushes, who seeing the stranger all alone, and abandoned to the mercy of his Enemies, ran to aid him, or at least to stay by their presence the evident danger that threatened him; for although they did not know him, yet they did so affect him, having heard him say that he would stay with them, and quit the glory of his condition for to accommodate himself after the simplicity of theirs: but they could not make so great haste to come to him, as the others did to take away his life, so that at the instant that they approached, the stranger fell to the ground, hurt with two great wounds, and had received many others without their Arrival. The murderers fearing that Lizeron and jacinte were followed with many other Shepherds, withdrew themselves into the same place from whence they were come; fearing that if they should stay, the advantage which they had gotten, might be changed into disadvantage.  
They surprised Clitor the Shepherd which guided them, in demanding of him at their meeting, if he had seen pass that way a Cavalier of the same feature and in the same habits of him that was hurt, and he having answered them, yea, they prayed him to conduct them the same way he had taken, making him believe that this was their Master, and that they had lost him in the next wood.  
This Shepherd after having innocently answered to their demands, and seeing that they had almost killed him, ran hastily to inform the Justices of their acts, who sent presently open and down the Country to take the Malefactors. In the interim, Poleron ignorant of this Tragedy, returned from his Lodging, bringing with him the habit he went to fetch; and finding Jacinte (who being touched with compassion for the ill fortune of the Gentleman which lay stretched upon the grass) rubbing his face, and striving to stay the blood of his wounds, he saw also coming Lizeron with a vessel full of cold water, wherein Jacinte. wet her hand, and did convert it into pearl, like a new Aurora, bedewing his face therewith; he suddenly came to himself, and testified by his looks the astonishment he had to see himself in so different estate from that he thought fortune had reduced him; but because she is of the female Sex, me is subject to inconstancy. He did contemplate and admire together as much as the passion he suffered in his soul, and the pain of his body would permit, the graces and features of Jacinte: If the cause of the misfortune which was befallen him had been less adorable, he had suffered himself to have been overcome by the charming looks, and sweet speeches of Jacinte. In effect she had in this action so many charms and graces, that Poleron might have been jealous, if the love which he bore her, had not rather been for divertisement then design, or that his prudence had not known that those courtesies which she rendered to this stranger, proceeded only from charity, and not affection.  
Poleron approached, to whom Jacinte's Brother recounted succinctly what was happened; and after, having bound up his wounds as well as they could, they carried him in their arms unto the next Village, to be more conveniently looked unto: At the first steps they made, Clitor arrived with the Officers of Justice whom he went to fetch, they saw the hurt man, and went on to the pursuit of those that had committed the crime. In the mean time the good shepherds went on their way, and Jacinte followed them, with a countenance that witnessed as much compassion and feeling apprehension of the danger of this Gentleman, as Poleron had cause to fear the loss of that he did not possess, nor only hoped. O Love, that thou art a rigorous Tyrant! That there are extravagancies in thy effects! Thou wouldst conserve that which thou hast not: Thou fearest to lose that which thou hopest not for: Thou hopest that which thou fliest from: Thou fliest that which thou dost enjoy: They carried the Malade unto Polerons house, where they made a bed very carefully, more handsome and soft, then fair and rich.  
The night overtook the Officers of Justice in making their search, but they forbore not to visit the Caves and Rocks, chase the prey, so that amongst the crags of this mountain they found a horse entangled amongst the shrubs, wherein the reins of his bridle were fastened, and a good way from thence, a young man of a very good countenance, and well clad: when as without ask him what he was, or from whence he came, no, nor hearing his reasons, or giving place to his excuses, put irons upon bis hands like a murderer, and carried him to the prison of the Village, which joined to the house of Poleron, leaving him there as to the Inquisition, until he might accuse himself of the crime whereof they presumed him ●uilty.  
The wounded Cavalier felt not so great pain 〈◊〉 his body, as inquietude in his mind, seeing him●●lfe without all means to satisfy two violent ●●ssions, Love, and Revenge; there came from the ●ext Village a Chirurgeon, who had much tongue, ●ut little experience, nevertheless this cure was ●●●ppy (rather by the good fortune of the wounded, ●●en by the science of the chirurgeon) since that within few days he recovered him his health, the ●hich he had never done before to any man. Poleron ●●patient to know who was his guest, after having ●●ene him carefully looked unto, desired him to discover himself unto him, to the end he might search ●ccasion to serve him: the Cavalier knowing him, ●●lfe obliged by so many courtesies shown him, ●ade no great difficulty to reveal unto him his ●●eatest secrets in making him this discourse.  
Although I am not ignorant that he is reputed most ingrateful that acquits himself hastily of ●●t which he oweth, for as much as it seems he is ●●lling to pay to be no longer a debtor, and that ●●ere is nothing dearer than that which cost many ●ayers; so it is dear Poleron for to please you, and so having known your spirit capable of confidence's, I will tell you the history of my misfortune's, to move you to pity, and also to invite you 〈◊〉 assist me: and if one may describe many misfor●●nes in a little room, I will endeavour to make ●●u a succinct narration thereof.  

THE HISTORY OF FENISE.  
THe heavens were pleased to give me birth i● Madrid, the Court and ordinary abode of th● Kings of Spain, meanly favoured with the good of Fortune, but amply with those of nature; whi●● consists as you know in noble blood, valour & fr●●nes of the mind; my young years were employed 〈◊〉 studying humane learning, where I found the vanity of those sweet deceits wherewith the world flattereth us and destroys us, disposing the pastimes of infancy to serve to the vices of youth: but because thos● disabuses proceeded from the experience of others they converted themselves into proper abuses; for seeing that those inconveniences which I re●● in histories and examples did not happen to me, 〈◊〉 did repute them fabulous. My father whose age●● ought to have served him as the looking glass o● humane miseries, to amend his humane disorder●●● affections; and to prepare himself for his approaching death; lived with as little apprehension o● the time to come, as if every day had been the 〈◊〉 of his life, and that he should never arrive at th● last. For certain reasons he quitted the Court, and went with all his family to dwell in the City of T●ledo; where lay the greatest part of his estate. My mother was glad of this change, hoping that my father would change his customs, but itself ou● quite contrary to what she expected; since that during the truce which he had made with the violence of his nature, he quarrelled against one of the ●●eatest families of that city.  
Be not astonished dear Poleron, if I speak this of 〈◊〉 that gave me life: for I am to be pardoned: a ●●her that bringeth up his children as an enemy ●●●uld do, doth not merit that they should hid 〈◊〉 evil carriges: In a word, I fashioned myself ●●●er his negligent example, I suffered myself to be ●●ryed away with the vanity of young men, and presumption of those that are rich.  
The Cavalier enemy to my father had two sons ●●mine age and a daughter somewhat younger, they ●re the honour and beauty, of the city, but the ●●●ghter particularly a subject where one might ●●ually admire, wit, beauty, lively courtesy, and modesty joined with virtue, and she was also ●●●h these qualities, a prodigious ostentation of 〈◊〉 will and power of Nature I saw her one day go●● to the place where duty of religion obliged her; 〈◊〉 since that hour (I do not know if I shall name ●●happy) I have been so great an admirer of her ●●●ty, that I have not known how to conduct my 〈◊〉 in the way of my god fortune. By this affection justify my satisfaction, seeing that it was as impos●●●●e, as they say, to know Laure without loving her, 〈◊〉 seems difficult to be beloved of her. This ●●e name of the fair that causeth my pain, I ●●●t and came by the street wherein she lived, as it ●●●e fashion of lovers to do, and principally in our ●●●on. In ●ine, I found occasion to appear unto 〈◊〉, and to let her know my passion, I flattered her ●●●it with letters in prose and verse, money, that ●●●h no value, but that which is given it by them ●●o receive it.  
By liberality or rather by prodigality I gained the women that served her, weak Guardians of the honour of a maid, but the more I searched to approach her, the further off I found myself, her resistance increased in such manner, that I forced myself to overcome it. But my love came to such a point of obstinacy, that it seemed that I had rather design to surmount her rigours then obtain the enjoying of her beauty.  
My ordinary walks about her house served for discourse to the neighbours and suspicion to her brothers. The eldest, called Don Oliban, having certain knowledge of my passion, made from thence the foundation of a treason altogether unworthy of a noble courage or an indifferent wit. Excited either by the love of his honour, or the inveterate hatred that was betwixt our fathers, he sought by my death to put an end to their enmity, and to give a beginning to my misfortunes, one night being gone to the gate of his lodging, with intention to speak to one of the servants of Laure my confidents, Oliban urged by a furious motion of choler, would take away my life, and for to render his enterprise less doubtful, he shot me into the body with a pistol, and cast me upon the threshold of the door; many people came running at this noise; Oliban fled, and they carried me to my lodging, where I was carefully looked unto, and with hopes to be cured; because the wound was not deep, the violence of the shot being broken by a strong Buffe-coate that I then wore.  
We had at our house a Barbarian slave, a man of valour and good breeding, he hath served my father in perilous occasions, where he hath often proved his courage and fidelity; he did particularly affect me, and taught me his language, esteeming in that he gave me all he was able, telling me, that if it was not profitable unto me, at least it would do me no hurt. In effect it seemed to me that no body ought to neglect the understanding of any thing, though it seem but of small consideration, for it often arriveth that one may make use thereof.  
This man, seeing the outrage which was done me, resolved with himself to entrap my enemy, and in case he could not, my father gave him leave to set the house a fire, to the end to take a greater revenge, I mean in destroying the family: this design coming to my knowledge, I stayed the effect, as much for the consideration of Laure, as for to satisfy myself, against him alone that did me the injury. During these inquietudes I received, a plaster so excellent for the curing of my wounds, that it seemed I had not bled enough to pay the value thereof. It was a letter which Laure sent me, wherein I learned that pity, a feeling natural enough to women, had had more force oyer her, than my diligences and wake, and that a favour which my pain and travels could not obtain in a long time, her compassion had bestowed upon me in the space of an hour: If my memory be good, the letter contained this discourse.  
THE LETTER OF LAURE TO FENISE.  
I Shall from henceforth esteem myself indebted to Oliban, If you recover your health as I wish you may, since that his cruelty hath rendered me sensible of pity, and the wounds which he hath given you have pierced my heart. Before this accident I might have vaunted myself invulnerable, but at this presen, I am not only subject to wounds, but also to feel those of others; If modesty did not retain me, I would say that your indispositions are common to me, and that I am afflicted with all your apprehensions.  
The end of this letter was the beginning of my hopes, and the birth of a more happy life. From that time my health increased daily, I was able in a short time to continue my former exercises; very hardly can one quit those habitudes that custom hath naturallized. I had the honour during some few nights to speak with Laure; but on the other side I did what I could to meet her brother, the hatred I bore him paralleled the love I bore her. I was told he was retired into Saint Peter's, whereupon I writ to him that he wronged himself to make use of a sanctuary against justice, and since that he searched to assure himself he had no better refuge than his valour, whereof I would make proof, and for that effect I desired to see him in the field, the night following, to defend himself from the name of Traitor which I had given him every where as he deserved.  
Laure knew my design, for possessing my heart as she did, it was easy for her to know my intentions; and he that I had chosen to carry my challenge had told her thereof to the prejudice of mine honour and secrecy: she prayed him not to deliver it, until she had provided a remedy, and without losing time she sent all over to seek me, to the end to dissuade me, knowing well that I would obey all her commands. But I who feared the power she had over my affections, and desired to revenge myself by the favour of the obscurity of the night, to save myself the more easily from the hands of justice: I shunned those to whom she had given this commission, the which caused her to undertake a strange enterprise, as little judicious as promptly executed.  
She determined to put herself into man's apparel, and to meet me where I assigned her brother. Alas Poleron, I then attended a person animated with choler and not with love; I pretended a vengeance, but upon another subject, I hoped a satisfaction, but not so unhappy. The night was so obscure that there was not a star to be seen; mine also denied me ●er light: it is true that that which is contrary to us, ●oth never shine when we may receive any contentment thereby: Oh a thousand times infortunate! I was so blind that a small glimmering of light was denied me, for fear I should see the fault I was ●oing to commit, being then the first in the place ●●signed, and seeing the appearance of a man to approach me, I did not doubt but this was the enemy attended, I advanced towards him with my sword 〈◊〉 my hand, and to speak truth, I would have rendered him the like surprise he had made me, and not give him time to prepare himself, in such manner that I gave a stocado in the breast of this poor Lover, which overturned her to the earth, in crying, Ah! cruel thou hast slain me! at this sorrowful accent: I was , all my senses failed me; Ah Madam is it you said I, in bowing down endeavouring to know her as well by the face as voice. Alas Fenise, said she, thou revengest thyself severely, since thou takest away the life of a person that loves thee more than herself, for to triumph more gloriously over thy enemies; these words pierced me more than a thousand stabbs could have done me, despair did so violently possess me, that I presented two or three times my swords point to my breast, but I know not whether a christian consideration, or desire to search remedy for her withheld me, I fell down upon my knees before her, mine eyes full of tears embracing her and striving to animate her vigour. O my Queen, what ill fortune hath brought you hither? what fury hath guided my hand to commit this criminal action? saying thus, I strove to stay her blood, dear Fenise; said she, I think myself happier thus to die, then by the hands of my enemies, my brothers, this will be a just repairing of the injury they have done thee for my sake; but without losing time, let us see if there be any means to get from hence, to search some remedy for our evils, I am satisfied with thy apprehensions; hark thee, I will tell thee what is to be done; she would have continued; but a swoon stayed her speech. Imagine Poleron in what estate I then found myself; represent unto yourself, a rich Merchant in a tempest upon the Sea beaten with contrary winds, one while ready to cast all his riches into the water to save his own life, then staying himself to lament the inestimable loss he was about to make; hoping a calm in the midst of the tempest, so was I agitated in the storm of a thousand divers thoughts. If I should leave her, thinking she was dead, I was hindered therefrom for fear to lose her, if she was not: If I stayed by her, I must die with a thousand sorrows, and endanger myself to be taken by Justice. I knew not what to do, nor what to think, sometimes I thought I felt her die and respire, but, alas, this was a pure imagination caused by the force of my desires: In fine, I ran to the next house, where by the help of some money which I gave, I took wine, and a man along with me, to help me to assist her; I put a drop of that liquor in her mouth, which awakened her heart, and sighing demanded where she was. Courage my friend, said I, not daring to speak to her as a woman, in the presence of this peasant, you shall be presently at your own house; saying so, this man and I took her up, and carried her to the house of a Cavalier, my intimate friend, called Don Jovan de Valazquez: This was not without much pain and apprehension of being met by the Justices, who made their walk at that hour.  
This Cavalier had a Sister, who in charity took an extreme care of Laure, whilst I went to seek Chirurgeon, to whom I paid as much for his crecy as cure, as I had done to him that helped me to carry her. The Chirurgeon having taken away a handkerchief, which I had put in her wound to stay the blood, did carefully dress it, but he could not yet give us any hope of her recovery.  
Behold Poleron, how rudely Fortune used me; she was not only content to deprive me of all sorts of goods, but also of all my hopes thereof.  
In the interim, the absence of Laure being perceived, all her Father's house was in an uproar; but the brute passed not the doors, as well because the honour of a family is in danger of Shipwreck, when it is tossed by the winds of popular mouths; as also to make way the better to the revenge her Brothers hoped to take, thinking by this silence to take away all apprehension to their enemy.  
They incontinently persuaded themselves, that there was none in the town capable of the Ravishment of Laure but myself; for they knew well that I served her, and that she had some inclination to me; so that they were resolved to pull out my heart, and seek me even to the centre of the Earth, if I should be there.  
This project was not so secretly kept but it came to the knowledge of one of their servants whom I had obliged with divers presents, who came to give me advice thereof: At her first seeing me, she demanded where Laure was, and I being afraid of a double intelligence (from those that are for them will give most) counterfeited to be astonished, feigning to know nothing of her absence; she who was discreet enough, pressed me no further: Well, well, said she, in what place soever she is, do not often frequent her, for her brothers have espies to trap you both together, and take away your lives at the same time. If you be wise get away from this place, otherwise you are in danger to be slain; do not neglect my counsel. I desiring to conserve myself, more for the consideration of Laure than mine own, went to Cigarales, which are the chiefest Farms belonging to the Citizens of Toledo, and lived in the house of a Farmer, who before had served in my father's house. I much desired to hear news from Laure, and to let her hear from me, but I durst not confide in any one. And although I had no great cause to be in pain for her, having left her in such hands, yet I could not continue long time where I was, being ignorant in what estate she was. A heart that wants that which it desireth, is in perpetual inquietude: I knew not whether I was dead or alive, so that to know certainly the estate of my life, it was necessary that I should search ●fter news of that of Laure. I went disguised to Toledo, where I was scarcely arrived, when I perceived the younger brother of Oliban, who saw me, and ●ollowed me, doubting it was I; I made many ●urns one way, and another, to try if he looked after ●●e; but seeing that in truth he had discovered me, was constrained to leave the town, only passing ●efore the house of Don Joüen, the keeper of the ●easure of my felicity; not very well satisfied, ●eing all the doors shut up, fearing that some evil ●●d befallen Laure. I was not gone fare from To●●do, when turning myself, I perceived three men ●ding full gallop after me: I imagined that these men had a design upon me, therefore I went into the next thick wood to hid my self from them, being behind a very thick tuft, I saw them pass by me, very much troubled having lost the sight of me, they looked here and there doubting what to do. And because I was not in too secure a place, I went amongst the rocks, knowing it rather desperateness than valour to attend their coming; where perceiving myself amongst so many precipices and not knowing which way to avoid them, I lighted & and left my horse at hazard, I had wandered amongst the rocks almost two hours searching the refuge of some shepherd's cabin; when I so happily found you near the fountain where I was catched by mine enemies, whilst you went to fetch me habits to disguise myself.  
Fenise thus could his history to Poleron, when when the Judge of the town assisted by the Pregnotory and sergeants came into the house; he had been told that Fenise was arrived in that town in other  and that he was some spy disguised: addressing himself to him, with an action fierce and barbarous told him, that he was the King's prisoner. Fenise astonished at these words, asked him the cause; the house said the Judge, (thinking he had demanded the house whither he would carry him prisoner) continuing to speak upon this conceit: you are pleasant said he to inquire of m● the house, whither I will carry you; you shall go● whither I please: I here represent the King, obey, away, to prison. He was so choleric and spoke s● fast, that his words stumbled one upon another, the● made so much hast to get out of his mouth; if Fenise was astonished at his arrival, he was now altogether confused; but using prudence, he endeavoured to moderate the too violent motion of this rustic magistrate, he told him he did not ask for the house whither he would have him, but the reason of his imprisonment, the which instead of appeasing him provoked him the more, in such manner that he went to have laid hold of this infortunate Cavalier, if the Pregnotory had not told him that he ought not to proceed with so much incivility against a gentleman; the Judge being thereupon freshly angered, fell to cuffs with the Pregnotory until the blood came from both their noses.  
This little tragicomedy did not at all please Fenise for having been acted upon his occasion, he feared to pay the charges thereof by some rude useage. Poleron being of the same opinion, counselled Fenise to suffer this brute to do what he would, assuring him to take him presently out of his power, he confiding in this suffered himself to be taken prisoner.  
They put him in the same prison where the young man was, that the judge had taken the same day that Fenise was hurt, and who had suffered him to lie there without questioning him, expecting a fit occasion to send him to Toledo, knowing himself not capable enough to form a process of so high a nature. By the light of a lamp they chained Fenise as a criminal of state, to the other end of the beam whereunto the first was tied, who was very glad to have a companion to entertain himself with. Whilst they were tying Fenise the other attentively regarded him, thinking that he knew him, and when they were alone without light, he disguising his voice demanded of our Cavalier the cause of his imprisonment, my misfortune is the only cause, answered Fenise; for I do not believe that I have deserved this punishment, by the tone of his voice the first prisoner confirmed himself in the opinion that he had that he knew Fenise; yet he was so amazed with this strange encounter, that being night he thought he dreamt: when an infortunate person receives any contentment he thinks it an illusion. Fenise had also the curiosity to inquire the misfortunes of his companion, who answered him always in a disguised voice. You and I are of different opinions, you say your ill fortune hath brought you hither, & I that my good fortune hath conducted me, and rendered my captivity a thousand times more dear to me then liberty. I never heard any but you, said Fenise, say, that pains were pleasant, liberty troublesome, & imprisonment delightful; yet I esteem myself happy, answered the unknown, in regard I find two sorts of contentment, the one real, and the other in appearance, and although the latter be not, he that presumes it so, doth not desire it less than the first: so that I find my prison lovely, my chains favours, and my pains delightful: I am of the nature of those that love their captivity. The pearl conconserves and nourisheth itself in a prison of a shell, the diamond forms itself in congealed dew, the gold engenders and augments by the Sunbeams in the Entrails of the Earth, and the soul which is the most perfect of all creatures next unto the angels, doth so well please itself in the prison of humane bodies, that she cannot quit them without great trouble, the same cause have I to love my condition. Love makes me find delight in torments, felicity in misfortunes, and pleasure amongst these pains. He, answered Fenise, hath no great experience of the effects of love, that taketh his afflictions for contentments. Alas love, the world would be at quiet, if it could avoid thy reaches, and warrant itself from thy deceits.  
For my part I, have a thousand times proved, that all the evils that our misery hath cast upon us in nature, are found in him; and without going about to tell them in particular, I demand what tumult is there in the World, which he causeth not? What sedition, which he stirreth not up? Noise, which he makes not? What fear, which proceeds not from him? He is the most cruel Enemy of men: He betrayeth them under flattering appearances: He makes them swallow poison deliciously prepared: in embracing them, he kills them: In brief, he is of such a nature, that there are none but those that know him not, that esteem him; therefore I wish that he may possess the soul of him that is cause of my misfortunes; it is the most rigorous vengeance that I can desire.  
Fenise said this with so much vehemency, that he thereby testified the passion which moved him, and the force of his apprehensions; whereupon his companion answered; without doubt, you love in such a place where your affections are little regarded, since that you speak so ill of him who hath been the cause of all the good that the Earth now possesseth, that the World admireth, and that Nature adoreth. Love is the original of our life: He provides us nourishment; without him the Earth would not bring forth those savoury fruits which serve us for food, and without him men would have no communication together: He peopleth Cities: He governeth Commonwealths: He is the Spring of Peace and Joy: His effects are Force, greatness of Courage, Liberality, and Courtesy: He is the Father of boldness and Generosity: And I could give you examples of all that I have told you in my proper person, if I did not fear more to weary you by giving ear unto them, then to tyre myself by relating them. In conclusion, I maintain that there is nothing without love; yea, that he is among contrary Elements.  
I do not deny, answered Fenise, that Love hath all these properties, but as no man is bound to say more than he knoweth of him, I that have found in his Garden nothing but thorns and brambles; I tell you what I have seen, what I have experimented, and what I have learned of himself. I do avouch that of all humane contentments there is none like the pleasures of a Lover, who is beloved with a reciprocal Affection; but this happiness endureth so little, that the happiest Lover can scarcely vaunt himself to be arrived at the beginning of his pleasure, but at the same instant he loseth it.  
Fenise and the unknown Prisoner passed the rest of the night in this pleasant contestation, the the one considering the miserable estate whereunto fortune had reduced him, not being able to have news from Laure; the other satisfied with the favours of his destiny, desiring always to allege the affliction of his companions; but seeing that opportunity was not yet offered, he determined to have patience, and not to make himself known, but to very good purpose.  
As soon as it was day, Poleron went to visit his Friend, to confirm him in the assurance which he had given him to deliver him from the hands of that insolent and ignorant Judge. Fenise thanked him for the care that he had of him, and told him that he was happy in his misfortunes, to be a prisoner with a man of so excellent a wit, whose pleasant conversation had much diminished his sorrows. Poleron turned himself for to behold him, but the Prisoner having seen him enter, had turned his back against the light, and lay half along upon the beam, feigning to be asleep, as well not to be in view, as for to hearken if amongst their discourses he might find any thing that might concern him. The two Friends believing that sleep had seized him, begun to discourse together, and amongst the discourses which they held, Fenise did observe so many judicious reasons in Poleron, that he found them to exceed the wit of a Shepherd, as already he had seen other testimonies thereof. Desiring then to content his curiosity, he made him this discourse. I might believe (dear Poleron) that you did not love me with a good heart, if you should refuse to give me the clearing of an opinion, which I have conceived, and which doth trouble me. Your Countenance, your Courage, your Actions, and your Discourses, agreeth so little with the birth of a Shepherd, that I have imagined divers times, either that you are not descended of the Line of these country Shepherds, or that Heaven and Nature have taken a most particular care to form your Body and Wit, to render you worthy of a higher fortune then that of this habitation  
Truly (answered Poleron) I should be very ingrate, if I should not give you the satisfaction you desire: And for to avoid this shameful reproach, I had rather in discovering my secrets to you, hazard myself to be accounted light, then to be thought to undervalue the amity which you have testified unto me in concealing them: And letting go a sigh that seemed to come from the centre of his heart, he said.   

THE HISTORY OF DON LOVIS.  
near to the River of Tage, Nature gave me for Father and Mother two high Rocks, I may well call them so, since the two persons that brought me into the World, having denied me paternal kindnesses, these Rocks received me amiably into their laps, where, as by miracle, heaven was willing to save my life, although I might almost wish not to have been obliged to it for so many favours, knowing well that I might have been exempt from many pains which I have suffered; it was not only content to do me this grace, but it yet permitted, that Timante, a shepherd of this town should wander into a grove to find me, and should lose himself to get me in him a new father, and he in me an adoptive and obedient son. He took me from the unpitifull hardness of these rocks where I was abandoned, carried me away in his arms, and gave me to a peasant who gave me the first nourishment of infancy. By little and little I grew up amongst the other children of the town, making appear daily the marks of a noble extraction, for although this rustic education hath rendered my behaviour rude and gross, yet it hath not taken from me the feeling of honour and generosity.  
In the flower of my youth, fearful death came to knock at the door of Timante; and he, receiving his advertisments with humility, prepared the jewel of his soul, for a more precious inchasement; he gave me by his will the best part of his goods, and having taken those spiritual refections, which the Church giveth to those Pilgrims who finish the passage of the tempestuous Sea of this world, and come to the straits of Death, he rendered his last sigh. But before he came to that extremity, he called me privately to him, and told me that which I have told you, of my birth, and gave me at the same time a little purse, wherein were certain papers which he said he had found with me, and told me my name was Don Lovis, and that I was of another lineage, than I thought myself to be.  
This narration did so elevate my courage, that I resolved to search some other occupation than those of a village, so that within a short time after the decease of Timante, I sold his goods, some flocks of sheep, and some lands of inheritance which he had left me, and left my village life, and country, to travel into foreign nations.  
Having seen many towns in Spain, clothed like a cavalier of the court, I arrived at Barcelon, with design to pass into Italy, and from thence into Flanders, to exercise myself in warlike affairs; but this proposition was vain, for a beauty which I saw in the town of Barcelone hindered all my projects, and made it impossible for me to pass further. If I determined to see fair Italy, and begun to think of this maid, I found her so fair that I believed there was nothing beyond her; here was my Hercules pillars: on the other side, if my courage reanimated the desire I had to seek Laurels in the hazards of the wars of Flanders, I found near her so many Myrtles, Palms, and glorious victories to be obtained, in remaining overcome by her charms, that I might have been thought to have wanted judgement, if I had neglected those delicious conquests.  
As soon as this adorable object appeared before mine eyes, respect seized me, which in mine opinion, is one of the graces that renders a lover most commendable, but not to give occasion to the common people to talk, I thought it best to use the diligence of a servant, to go after this beauty and follow her coach unto the place where she dwelled, to the end I might endeavour to get access there: but either the impertinence of my servant or my proper misfortune made him lose the fight of it, and presently took from me all possibility of offering her my service. Rare loves had never happy beginnings, it was also necessary, that mine which had a strange issue as you shall see, should have a difficult entry. The negligence of an hour cost me almost three months (for love always delights to give heavy punishments for light faults) so during this long space it was impossible for me to have knowledge of the cause of my inquietudes. This made me resolve to take again my first intentions, and seek my fortune in divers Countries, since that she is not always to be found in the place of a man's birth. The night before my departure I went to sup with a gentleman one of my friends, for to take leave of him, from whom I departed very late: in passing by one of the best streets, I found myself near unto five or six men, who without saying a word set upon two who came innocently the same way with me: they seeing themselves surprised, put themselves into a posture of defence, and I considering the inequality of the combatants, ranged myself with my sword in my hand on the weaker side: but after a few blows of one side and the other, one of the defendants was hurt and fell to the ground; at the same time those that had wounded him, retired themselves, & the companion of him that was hurt pursued them; I stayed there to assist the wounded, and speaking to him I knew him to be an old gentleman of quality, I helped him up and conducted him to his lodging; by the way he gave me a thousand thanks for my assistance, and at every step asked me what was become of Filendre: which made me believe that that was the name of him who was run after the enemies. I not knowing what to answer him, told him to comfort him, that he was gone to fetch a Chirurgeon: thereupon we arrived at his house, those of his family knowing that he was hurt, were all frighted; and amongst others, a young Lady, whom the grief of this accident had put into great confusion. I regarded curiously her gestures and actions, and knew her by the light of a torch to be the very same that had caused my torments; then a respectful fear seized my heart, and I felt certain pricking griefs in my breast, as if the wound which she had first given me with her eyes was opened again. O Beauty, that thou art so powerful! so to astonish those hearts which the most perilous hazards cannot affright. All the domestics lamented the disaster that had befallen their Master, whilst I was ravished in the admiration of the features of this Lady, when there came in a young man who had his countenance full of alteration, and his spirit animated with choler, approached her, and gave her two boxes upon the ear, and at the same instant withered the roses and lilies of her cheeks. I being offended with this barbarous insolence, and rashness, that he had to use her so unworthily in my presence, I went to him with my sword in my hand, rebuking his brutality with offensive words: He, who knew me not, drew also his sword, and fight one with another, I warded his blows, and gave him two upon the body, which he could not avoid: then in despite of what they could all do to stay me, I saved myself, and went out of the house without being known to any one, yet having a great desire to know the day following the names of these persons, and the occasion of these strange aecidents.  
Don Louis, whom we call Poleron, was upon the passage of his history, when Clitor, and the Judge of the Town entered into the prison; the first, to see if the unknown prisoner was of those that did hurt Fenise; and the other protesting that he knew very well what belonged to his Office. They were all in suspense to see what would be the issue of these words; but their attention was turned into affliction, knowing that his design was to send them to Toledo. Fenise had an apprehension thereof, the unknown prisoner trembled for fear, and Don Lovis doubted the execution thereof: Seeing the danger wherein Fenise would be, returning into the hands of his enemies, he endeavoured by prayers and fair words to divert the intention of the Judge: and although that Clitor affirmed that the unknown prisoner was none of those that had hurt Fenise, he changed not the resolution which he had made; all the grace that they could obtain, was, that the prisoners should be removed from the dark place where they were, into a chamber, but bound to too posts.  
When they were come into the light, Fenise ●aced his companion, and saw in him the original of his disgraces, he saw himself near to Laure, when he thought himself to be far from ●er: He was almost without motion and sense, so much had joy transported him; but without testifying the excess of his joy, he contented himself to speak to her with the mute language of his eyes, which often express the feelings of the heart more intelligibly than the tongue can do. Laure of her side, made such signs with her eyes, as rendered faithful proofs of the constancy of her love.  
Don Louis, who perceived all these amorous actions, seeing that they were alone in this chamber, having had licence of the Judge to visit his friend, prayed them to explicate the Aenigmas of of their gestures. Fenise spoke, and told him; Dear friend, only in telling you the name of this person, showing Laure, I answer to all the demands you can now make me, you having heard me so often speak it. This is Laure, that incomparable beauty which hath charmed my soul: her presence hath surprised me with so excessive a joy, that if it was not moderated with the sorrow that I have, to see her suffer so many evils for my sake, it would take away my life. Then turning himself towards Laure; Ah dear object of my happiness, is it possible that my destiny may be appeased? Is it true that it is you? my imagination perpetually occupied with your image, doth she not deceive me? What, amongst so many torments can I enjoy so extreme a felicity? Without lying I have good cause to complain of your rigour, that hath hindered me so long time the enjoying thereof, in disguising this night the delicious organ of your voice. Speak to me dear Mistress, let me see that my glory is not a dream; tell me what marvellous adventure hath reduced you to this misery, which produced me so great good fortune. Laure, who might rather be called Aurora, letting fall liquid pearls upon the vermilion roses of her cheeks, answered him. My dear Fenise, I have striven much with myself to use the dissimulation whereof you complain, and & hinder myself from letting you know what company you had in your prison: I wanted but a little of declaring myself when I saw you brought thither; but honour, which you know is so delicate a thing, obliged me to this severe retention; so that your love being guided by respect and civility, you have rather cause to be satisfied with me, then blame me. You cannot doubt of my passion, since that for to give you most particular assurances thereof, I have violated paternal respect, and also that which I own to my person, in giving occasion to speak to the prejudice of my virtue. But if our destiny have made us miraculously to meet again, it seems it is but to run the same fortune, and make us hope for a more free conveniency to entertain ourselves, with the fortunes that have arrived us since our separation, the which obligeth me to pray you to give me leave to remit until another time the satisfaction of your just curiosity.  
Don Louis, who heard these discourses, was so lively touched with compassion, besides the inclination which he had to serve Fenise, that he vowed from this moment to hazard all that he esteemed, as well of his goods, as person, to deliver them from the tyranny of this barbarous Judge: And in the opinion which he had to come to the end of his design, he endeavoured to comfort Laure, giving her hope that she should see herself presently at liberty with her Lover.  
This comfortable friend having left them in this expectation, and being gone to put his project in execution, the impertinent Judge came to tell them he had changed his resolution, and that it was not necessary to carry them both to Toledo; that for the love of Poleron he would leave Fenise, and only take the other. At this advertisement, Laure felt her heart gnawed cruelly, and revenging her misfortunes upon herself, let fall tears from her eyes which were able to have softened Marble. Fenise on his side repent himself for having so easily believed Don Lovis, and for suffering himself to be taken prisoner; he could not resist the apprehensions of his passion, nor Laure overcome the vehemency of her love; so that when she saw herself untied from this post, she approached her Lover, and without being seen of those who were to carry her, she fell upon his neck for to embrace him: By good fortune a swoon seized her at the instant, which stayed the effect of the Judge's proposition. Having perceived this swoon, they took all care possible to remedy it, but not with so much diligence, but that the rest of the day passed, which forced them to attend until the morrow for to carry her to Toledo, judging that it was better to defer it, then to hazard in the night the loss of a prisoner which might be taken from them in the dark.  
Fenise beheld this image of death, whose sorrows he felt in his heart, nevertheless he was presently glad, seeing that the Officers of the Judge deferred their departure until the next morning, because he hoped some succour from Don Lovis that night. Laure being returned from her swoon, they put on her irons, and chained her as before, and Fenise seeing himself a●one with her, prayed her to acquit herself of ●he promise which she had made him, if sleep, or her indisposition did not hinder her, and to tell him by what happy and strange accident she was come into this prison. She who could not close ●er eyes, and who felt no incommodity near the object of her contentment, served herself of his favourable occasion, and made him this discourse.   

THE CONTINVANCE OF THE HISTORY OF LAURE.  
SInce that you left me in the house of your friend Don jovan de Velasquez, hurt with your sword, but more with your love; and that this Cavalier ob●ged by your prayers, had taken care for the curing ●●e exterior wounds of my breast; I imagined ●ith myself that you had abandoned me, to ●ake your vengeance more rigorous, in offen●ng my line as well in honour as in blood: having ●●ven this foundation to my wrath, I again incou●ged my hopes, & represented to myself, that you ●ould never be so barbarous, as to leave me in so miserable a condition, but my imagination pro●unded always to herself, rather evil then good, and I was disquieted with a thousand troublesome thoughts, making me incontinently change my opinion; sometimes I uttered injurious words against the subject I adored; I accused you of ingratitude, perfidiousness, & inconstancy, then upon the sudden I took your part, and sought reasons to excuse you, because I wished you innocent, as well for your honour as my proper interest. And for as much as the outrages which I spoke against you, proceeded from the excess of my passion, when my imagination had rendered you some ill office, and obliged me to mingle some cold with my flames, I perceived immediately, that this was with design to render them afterwards much more violent. These were the ordinary entertains wherewith! divertised myself during mine abode with this Cavalier, except when Leonor his sister kept me company; for her wit was so excellent that she gave me no time to think of any other thing, but of her sweet discourse. But exactly to instruct you of all that passed in this house whilst I was there, I must tell you a tragic history, whereof it was the Theatre.  
A young man called Felix, a Merchant's son of Toledo, but of very good fashion, possessing many of those qualities which are requisite to a gentleman, became inflamed with the love of Leonor: Nevertheless the inequality of their conditions, the recluse life which she led, the splendour of her beauty, the gravity of her presence, hindered Felix from daring to discover his passion; He suffered long time inquietudes very violent, in the end not being able to resist his torments, he resolved to have recourse to the intermission of a third person, to interpret his thoughts, not having courage enough to explicate them to her that had made him conceive them. He used a very ordinary way, which was to apply himself to the Chambermaid of this Lady, because those kind of people are enemies that fight close, they strike almost always where they please, and render the victory less doubtful: They evermore find occasions to praise the pretendant, and to present him to the person sought after. Leonor had with her a witty wench called Amarante, which Felix knew to be able enough to render him good offices. He gave her presents to incite her to favour his intentions: Liberality is the first virtue wherewith a Lover ought to be qualified. He declared unto her his passion, and the time when he begun to feel it, the torment which be suffered, the qualities wherewith Nature had adorned him, the advantages of the hopes of his fortune, being the only Son of a very rich Father; because these things are more freely spoken to those who are employed in such businesses, then to the persons sought after, who without doubt might have cause to esteem them impertinencies and presumptions.  
Amarante being very often entertained by this Gallant, had designs upon him, and determined to keep for herself, that which he desired by her organs to offer to Leonor; she received his messages, and gave him answers according to her mind. She entertained the unfortunate Felix with words, and hopes, false as from her Mistress, but true of her own part: Making him believe, that if Leonor did not render him more certain proofs of her affection, he ought to attribute it either to her fear of her Brother, or to her proper modesty: Whilst Felix thus persevered in his pretensions, and Leonor was ignorant thereof, Amarante invented ways to enjoy her lascivious affections. Felix spoke to her at a window almost every night, attributing the care and vigilance she took to content him, to proceed from the presents he daily gave her. Alas dear Fenise, I dare not blame the love of Amarante, for fear that by others I show myself culpable; I know one ought not accuse the faults of Love, because this passion blinds the judgement, and leaves but little place for reason, to consider the inconveniences it breedeth, and to foresee how to avoid them, but I do not approve of the unjust dealing of this damosel.  
Don Jovan was much troubled to have a man walk nightly about his house, but he spoke not of it; from whence I presume his pain was but moderate; for in such displeasures it is almost impossible for the most excellent prudence in the world, and the most stayed spirit to keep it secret. One night desiring to clear his doubts, it befell him as to those who are commonly too curious to know what they would be ignorant of. He hide himself in his neighbour's porch, and saw a sign given by the unknown man, and at the same instant Amarante appeared at the window, who told him that her Mistress could not come forth that night, but that the night following he should speak to her, and see her in her chamber. Felix having received these sweet assurances, went his way very content with the hopes that he had to receive a recompense in so short a time, which he could not hope for in many years. Don Jovan having heard what his confident had told him, seeing that the term of the return of this Lover was not long, since that he was to come again the night following, would not trouble himself to follow him. He resolved to be patiented, and dissemble what he thought, nevertheless in the morning he took Amarante aside, questioned her concerning the discourse which she had with the unknown, who, without enduring many threaten, made an invention as extravagant as one blinded with love and ignorance could produce. She told him that Leonor loved a Cavalier called Don Antonio, who you may well know (said she) by his high birth, and that the night following, he was to come into the chamber of his Sister by her intermission, and the consentment of Leonor; she used this stratagem, thinking it would serve her to come to the end of her intentions, imagining that when Felix should enter that she should put him into her bed, and when Don Jovan should find him there, he would constrain him to marry her, by that means she should quit Leonor of the infamy she had laid upon her, and that her artifice would pass for gallantry.  
The words which Don Jovan had heard the night before, and those he now heard, had so much conformity, that he had no great difficulty to believe what she said, she having confessed herself the mediatrix of their loves, he made her also promise to assist him to surprise Don Antonio when he should be with his Sister, to the end to oblige him to some convenient satisfaction.  
In the interim, Felix impatient to possess the glory he hoped for, passed the day with great inquietudes, so also did Don Jovan, but for different ends; the one imagining how to come to the recompense of his pains, and the other how to hinder him. The night being come, Don Jovan hid himself, and the poor girl thinking that she had subtly contrived her project, came to the window to attend the arrival of the abused Felix. Leonor was come that night to lie with me in my chamber, as she often did, which gave more way to Amarante, to abuse the innocent Felix, whom she hoped to make enter into the bed of Leonor.  
When he was come, she opened him softly a window, into which he mounted by the help of a Ladder of cords, from thence she carried him into her Mistress' chamber, and there left him without light, telling him he might have patience whilst she fetched her Mistress, speaking very softly for fear her voice should make her known; She took Felix by the hand and put him in estate to come to the point of his desires. Don Jovan, who lay in wait, believed when Amarante came again, that it was her Sister gave her leave to assure herself of her Lover, but presently entered the chamber, and without informing himself of any thing, gave either of them a stab in the breast, so that the unfortunate Amarante, thinking to find her Marriagebed, found her Tomb. The blow which Felix had, was not in so mortal a place but that he had force enough to recover his arms, and obliged Don jovan to do the like to defend himself, but in this violent agitation, the miserable Felix advanced to his end, and tumbled dead in striving to get away.  
At the same time Don Jovan came into my chamber, I am not very certain with what intention, but I am willing to believe that it was to warrant me from the danger I might be in, if the justices should enter and know me: being entered and seeing his sister with me; he stayed, confused and without speaking a word, returned to see who the dead persons were. He knew Felix and Amarante, different persons from those whom he thought he had killed; he was extremely amazed as well for the error wherein he found himself, as for the slaughter of this young man, being the only son of a very rich Merchant; who was able to employ much money to punish him that should be found authors of this crime. Perplexed with the horror of this murder, and fear of Justice, he absented himself before day, after having told us the mournful act he had committed. And I being habited as you see with the same clothes wherein I came from my fathers, when I came to meet you in stead of my brother; I became guide to Leonor, as if I had been some valiant cavalier, and accompanied her to the house of one of her cousins with whom she was to go to Heride a town in Catalogne where one of her Vncles dwelled; because she was resolved to stay no longer with Don jovan, not being able to forget the cruelty which he had thought to have executed upon her person.  
See the misfortune that arrived in this great family, by the impertinent art of a domestic of little experience which makes me say, that it is sit, that the sesrvants of an honourable house should be virtuous as well as their mistresses, otherwise they are capable to corrupt the daughters or mothers whom they serve, and bring them to tragic ends with the loss of their honour and general infamy of their family. I took leave of Leonor at the door of the house, where I left her, and immediately by the favour of the obscurity I came by these mountains and valleys, searching some village where I might in this disguisement hid myself from the knowledge of my brothers, and attend until it pleased heaven to moderate the rigours of my destiny: The little knowledge which I had of the country, which is full of bushes, hills, and precipices, was the reason I lost myself, and that the Justices of the village light upon me; who led me so happily to this prison, where without thinking thereof, I found that which to me is the most delightful in this world.  
Fenise lifted up his eyes and shoulders, astonished with this strange accident, nevertheless he had taken great pleasure in the harmony of the words of Laure. And also to satisfy her on his part, he told her all which was befallen him until their common good fortune had brought them together. This discourse ended, they begun to reason upon the actions of Don jovan who after the murder of Felix and Amarante came unto the chamber of Laure, judging that he had some design against the respect he ought to his friend, and integrity of Laure, his mistress.  
The half of this night was almost spent in these entertains. In the interim, Don Lovis slept not but laboured for their deliverances as they presently saw the effect thereof. We told you before that this prison joined upon the house of the sayned Poleron, but you must know that there was but a thin wall betwixt them two, made of joists and bricks; so that it was easy enough for him to execute his design: so that when he thought them to be in their first sleep who guarded the prisoners, he broke this wall without noise, with a crow of Iron made a hole big enough, went into the chamber, and with other Iron instruments, broke the locks which held Laure and Fenise chained to the post, and delivered them from this rigorous captivity.  
Being gone out of this infamous place he exhorted Laure to show herself courageous in this occasion, than they mounted every one upon a good horse, & Don Lovis served them for guide; they took the way to Toledo thinking that they would not search after them that way; having testified to apprehend very much their going thither, as the swoon of Laure had showed. Before Aurora had given place to the sun, they found themselves near the town; They determined not to enter therein, for fear of some inconvenience, but to go on to the farms which are thereabouts, which are called Cigarales, the same farmer's house, whither we have already told you, Fenise had before retired himself; this was accordingly executed; and the day following Don Lovis went to visit Fenise his father on the behalf of the son, and to receive his commands, but not to acquaint him that he was with Laure, as they had agreed together. For the hatred which Feronte, (so was the name of this cavalier) bore to her Family was so violent, that he would have abandoned abandoned his son, if he should have known thereof. He received this Ambassador with great joy, and without making him stay too long, he made one of his servants take a horse, and gave him good store of money, and commanded him to follow Don Lovis and to give the money and the horse to his son, with a letter whereby he ordained him to go to Valence, and to stay there until he heard further commands from him.  
Fenise was well satisfied with the return of his friend, having received by his means news of his Father's health, and witnesses of his affection. He took the horse and treasure, and for many considerations, he sent back presently his Father's servant, because when a secret is known to many, it is hard to keep it; immediately after they all three took horse and went towards Valence. Don Lovis was then habited like a Cavalier, having clothed himself at Toledo, before he went to Feronte.  
They went so merrily, that some mischief was to be feared; for it succeeds ordinarily after great contentment. Without doubt the Philosopher had experienced this, who desired sorrow, and feared joy: Because, said he, after Melancholy a man may hope for Mirth, but after Mirth he can have nothing but vexation. The affection of Fenise and Leure increased every minute by the mutual pleasure which they received in their conversation, whereby they grew more acquainted the one with the other; Don Lovis took an incomparable pleasure in hearing their discourses, and seeing their pretty behaviours, wherein Fenise inviolably kept all the respect that could be desired; he acted nothing but with honour and respect. They had not above one day's journey to Valence, when Laure prayed Don Lovis to finish his History which he had begun, and he being extremely obliging, begun where he was interrupted by the rustic Judge, and thus continued.   

THE CONTINVANCE OF THE HISTORY OF DON LOVIS.  
YOu may remember the pitiful estate of this noble Family, amongst so many disasters; Therefore without repeating that discourse, I will only tell you, that being happily gotten out of the house, without being known, my Love made me stay six whole days in Barcelone, where I learned that the old hurt man was father of the beauty which had so lively touched me; a Gentleman of a great extraction, and very rich; that he recovered by little and little; but he who I chastised for his insolence was dead, and that he was brother to this Lady called Hipolite, most wise and virtuous.  
All these considerations and high qualities made me judge, that I set upon a place too hard to be taken, but my love was come to such a point, that it was impossible for me not to adore that divine object. I would not inform myself more exactly, for fear of giving suspicion to my prejudice. I must be contented to go and come before her lodging, to endeavour to get a view of her, although I knew her sight would but augment my pain.  
All my diligence and care was inutile, she led so recluse a life, that I could not see her otherwise, but with the eyes of mine imagination; there was no other remedy for my torments, but to wish death, or to banish this celestial Image from my memory, but all these desires and propositions had no effect; I could neither die nor forget her. In the end, as love finds out inventions as well as necessity, it came into my fancy to make acquaintance with one of the domestics, and to oblige him by liberality, to procure me some allegement. There was in the house a young man who was Steward, and sometimes served for Usher, whose name was Octave, I prevailed so much with my promises and gifts, that I got his acquaintance and affection, and by this means an access free enough into the house, without fearing the murmur of the neighbours, who hold their peace at good things, though they know them to be so, but publish that which is ill, though they but doubt thereof. I saw often the fair cause of my inquietudes, but could not find an occasion favourable to speak to her. Seeing me often frequent Octave, and perceiving I negarded her too attentively to be without design, she took notice of my behaviour and actions, and since gave me some signs of hope. From thence I took the boldness to declare unto her my passion, by the secret language of a Letter, which I made her receive. At the first she shown herself very angry with my audaciousness; nevertheless I did not forbear to send her a second, which was more happy than the first, since that she had the curiosity to see it and boldness to make me an answer: The discourse thereof was very succinct, but yet ample enough to make me hope a glorious success.  
I seeing myself thus favoured, was encouraged to go on, persuading myself that a Lady that acknowledgeth herself engaged, would not be long in acquitting herself thereof. Octave being interessed in my contentments, took often occasion to speak well of me in the presence of Hipolite, and at such hours, when she could best give ear thereunto, so that by little and little she became more sensible of the power of Love. One day she feigned herself extremely melancholic, which obliged her Father, who loved her dearly, to take her into the country to recreate her spirits, by the change of air. Octave gave me notice of this design, and told me the day when, and place whither they went, which was to a village that belonged to them. I disposed myself to follow the light of mine eyes, and the felicity of my life, which had a happy issue, for the liberty which they take in that country to walk, sometimes near a Fountain, sometimes near a Meadow, Wood, or Garden, gave me opportunity often to come near her, and endeavour to make her accept my services.  
Not long after her arrival, the Townsmen made certain games after their manner, where I appeared ●ike a stranger, and gave occasion to Hipolite to judge of my dexterity in those exercises, so that since ●hat time she hath shown herself not so indifferent ●s before, and upon a convenient and favourable occasion she permitted me to speak to her. I cannot represent unto you the ravishment of this charming conversation; for there is nothing in the world so sweet as beginning of Love. But as after pleasures discontentments succeed, this felicity lasted not long: The day following they must return to Barcelone.  
About a League from the Town, Leoncio, Father of Hipolite, herself, and the whole Family were invested by a Troop of men armed with Carabines, who came to affront Leoncio. He had an old quarrel against agreat Cavalier, who had watched him to satisfy his hatred. The Father of Hipolite who defied his enemy, kept himself upon his guard, being always accompanied with his Kinsmen and Friends, as well as his adversary; though not in so great number, yet more valiant. The contrary Troop seeing themselves the more, sent three of their men to the Coach of Hipolite to seize upon her person, whilst the rest set upon and pressed Leoncio, who had left his Daughter to assist his party.  
Most insolently they made this young Lady to quit her Coach, and set her upon a Hackney, and carried her away as the most glorious Trophy they could take from their enemies. By ill fortune I was not near her at this time, I stayed behind, devising with Octave of mine amorous adventures; but as we drew towards the Town, we saw coming the object of my contentment, in the hands of her enemies. Oh God cried Octave, there is some great misfortune arrived; see the Kinsmen of the enemy of Leoncio, who carry away Hipolite, let us return behind these bushes, and get before them; we did accordingly, and put ourselves in ambush in a certain passage, where whilst we attended them, Octave told me the cause of the quarrel; when they came to pass by us, we ran upon them with our swords in our hands, crying to me, to me companions, they are here, feigning that we were a greater number, wherewith they were so frighted, that they left their conquest, and fled, except one which stayed upon the place, to pay with his blood and life, for the insolence which he and his companions had committed. After this action we went to Hipolite, whom we found half dead, as well with the fear which she had of her enemies, as that which we had caused her, for she knew not that this was Octave, and myself, which had delivered her from her ravishers.  
She was ravished with joy to see us, but yet this gladness was mingled with displeasure: she perceived a hurt which I had received upon the head, without feeling it, by reason of my action. In the interim Leoncio assisted by the valour of his friends had on the other side given the chase to his enemies, and being all come together again, Octave recited to him our good fortune; thereupon Leoncio, thinking himself, obliged to me, would needs have me taken care of in his house, to the end to have more occasion to serve me. I made him many compliments, yet nevertheless I should have been very sorry to have refused so advantageous a gratification, since by that means I should have occasion to see more commodiously Hipolite: But to my disgrace my hurt was too soon healed, and as pleasures of this World dure but a short time, so was I in civility forced to leave the abode of my affections, and entertain my desires as I did before.  
Not long after, I was told that there was a Cavalier of Barcelone, called Don Vincence d' Aualois, of eminent quality, a handsome man, of a commendable wit, and rich condition, who sought after Hipolite, with design to marry her. He had not yet let her know of his affections, but having acquainted her parents therewith, he took liberty to publish them, so fare as to compose verses upon the same subject, to give her music, which was as troublesome to me, as pleasing to others: As one time amongst others I thought to enjoy the dear entertain of Hipolite, she having appointed me a certain hour to see her by a window, whereof the iron bars had been often witnesses of the favours she had done me: As I approached to this place, followed by Octave, we heard many instruments tuning, which obliged us to stay: it was Don Vincence, who testified his esteem of an Ebony Ring which Hipolite had worn, and which he had got by craft from one of her servants, having given her a gold chain in exchange.  
This Consort was so melodious, that another would have been charmed therewith; but jealousy, which beat me, rendered this harmony so troublesome, that I wanted not much of making an uproar in the street, audaciously enterprising to trouble their mirth, and chase the Muses from thence. The prudent advice of Octave moderated mine anger, he counselled me to attend until DonVincence had made his serenade, and after he was retired, I might approach to Hipolite's Window. I governed myself by his advice, which succeeded happily: Hipolite let me know by her discourses, that although she had heard the music, she did not believe it was for her, but for another Lady her neighbour, the which contented me much. In our discourses I represented unto her that I had served her four years, and that this constancy merited the performance of the promises she had made me. Thereupon she answered, that ingratitude never had commerce with her, and that she was always disposed to give me those satisfactions I could hope from my services, that I was to find an invention to get into the house, and keep myself in Octaves chamber, which being done, she would take care for the rest. As she gave me these instructions, we heard some people in the street, which obliged me to take leave of her, and to retire myself with all the contentment that could be presumed from so glorious hopes.  
I left her, and went to search Octave, in turning at the corner of the street, I perceived that those who had made the brute which separated Hipolite ●nd me, followed me; I doubled my paces for fear of being known, so that I lost them. But having ●oo much pleasure in the conversation of Hipolite, 〈◊〉 had let pass the hour that I had appointed to ●eet Octave at a Rendezvous that I had assigned ●im, so that I found him not there, which drove ●e almost into despair, seeing that I lost the most ●avourable occasion that Hipolite could ever present ●e. And for to oppress me with grief, when I ●aw Octave the next morning, he told me the great complaint that she made of my negligence, and that this was such an occasion as it might be I should not meet with in my whole life: That for his part he could not assist me no more in such occasions, because Leoncio had commanded him to go to certain lands of his, to make a receiver give an account; that it was not permitted him to defer his departure; that I must be silent, and suffer until his return, having none but him that could manage my good fortune.  
He was a month absent, during which time it was impossible for me to see Hipolite, not for want of diligence, or care, but of occasion. In the interim Don Vincense, whose love increased, pressed the father of Hipolite to resolve upon the proposition which he had made him. Leoncio seeing a match so advantageous for his daughter, and the equality of their conditions, after having communicated it to his kindred and friends, promised the Cavalier what he desired, without demanding the consent of her that had the most interest therein, thinking it unnecessary to a daughter, humble and obedient as Hipolite was, for he did believe that her consent would always depend upon his. Oh the great errors of Fathers, to think that a virtuous daughter ought to be deprived of her choice and will! In fine, Leoncio told her no more of this affair, but that he had married her: She was greatly surprised with so short an oration, and obliging her Father to express himself a little more amply, he told her the person, admonished her to dispose herself to this new change of condition, as also to put on her best ornaments, and to look cheerfully, for, said he, contentment is the most excellent paint wherewith a woman can beautify herself. Having thus persuaded her, he left her; but in stead of preparing herself for joy, she abandoned herself to sighs and tears.  
At that time I went often to her house, as well for to seek some favourable moment to speak to her, as for to learn if Octave was returned from his voyage. The last time that I was there, I saw at the door many Lacquees in the same Livery; this expense testified that they appertained to a Master of great condition: I was astonished with this novelty, and entering for to know the cause thereof, I found Octave, who was newly arrived, who (in stead of approaching me with joy) looked so sadly upon me, that he gave me cause to suspect that there was something to be done to my prejudice; I saluted him in embracing him, and asked him the explication of what I had seen; but without daring to regard me, he answered, that being my most affectionate servant, he desired to be excused from interpreting things so troublesome. The longer he deferred to satisfy me, the more I pressed him, in the end my importunity drew from him these words, go above into the Hall, said he, and you shall see the subject of my affliction. The general joy of those who were invited, wherewith the place was almost filled, gave me occasion to enter without being noted. I saw Hipolite in the middle of a circle of Ladies, shining like a Sun: on another side Don Vincence, my competitor, with a countenance that testified his contentment. Finding things in this order, I was confirmed in the opinion which I had conceived. I put myself in a place where I might be seen of Hipolie, to the end she might make an end to destroy me, which had arrived without doubt, if I had not been so infortunate, that when I search torments, they fly me. She lifted up her eyes, and seeing me, it was impossible for her to retain her tears, which she hide the most discreetly she could; thereupon he arrived who was to administer to them the Sacrament, and join their hands and wills; but when as they came to entreat Hipolite to approach, she begun to talk so extravagantly, that all the company was affrighted. She blamed her Father, offended her Kindred, spoke injurious against Vincence. O extreme puissance of an amorous passion, capable to alienate the spirit of the wisest! In a word, she became senseless, to the great confusion of all the company, and principally of the Gentleman that pretended to marry her: she named and called me every moment, said that I was he, for whom heaven had ordained her, and that I ought only to possess her. I found myself much troubled amongst these strange confusions, and fearing some danger, slipped behind a piece of hang, by which means I got out of the house, without being perceived. When she had lost the sight of me, she begun to run about the Hall to seek me, but not finding me, so violent a grief seized her, that she fell in a trance. They carried her to a bed, where after a little time, she came to herself again, but with a burning fever. All the company departed very Melancolique, and also Donvincence full of despite and despair, and Don-Leoncio suffered himself to be surprised with so great vexation, that he died within four days, leaving to her Brother the care of Hipolite, and the Administration of his Goods.  
See the unfortunate successes of my Loves, whose image will be perpetually engraven in my heart, see how my hopes were converted into smoke, which may serve for an example to consider the inconstancy of humane felicity. After this I retired myself into that country place where I had the honour to begin my acquaintance with you, thinking that I might there live quietly the rest of my life, since I have been established in that course of life; Octave writ to me that Hipolite continued in the same estate that I had left her in; but I am not in the same condition I was then, my Flames are doubly increased, they augment every moment, seeing how much I own to her faith and constancy, so that I now love more madly than ever; neither absence nor time can deface it from my memory. During the time of my abode in that village, I courted a Shepherdess honoured amongst all the mountains of Toledo, but it was but for to entertain my spirit (although she be perfect, I did but imagine that I treated with Hipolite.) So I passed my time when you arrived there dear Fenise, and when I was so happy to find an occasion to serve you, which I shall take pleasure in all my life.  
Don Lovis thus ending the History of his Loves, they were within a League of the town of Valence, but it was very late, which obliged them to make haste, for fear of being benighted. But they had scarcely begun this last League, when they heard amongst the Orange trees which grew by the way side, whereof that passage was full, a plaintiff voice, the which with violent sighing seemed to desire to render the air sensible of his sorrow; they stayed to hear the words which he spoke, afterwards they came near him, and saw a man stretched upon the the earth, in appearance near the end of his life; at this object generous and charitable Fenise lighted, tied his horse to a tree, and demanded of this miserable one the cause of his plaints. Don Levis and Laure did the like, and accompanied Fenise, when this infortunate spoke these words; Cavalier, whatsoever you are, I am so near mine end, that what diligence soever you can take to secure me, will but little profit me; it must be a force more than human which must reduce me from the pain I am in; yet nevertheless I will take courage: Saying so, he endeavoured to rise, and Lovis and Fenise assisted him. When he saw himself up, and supported by these two Cavaliers, he cried out louder than before, and thereupon came two men who fell upon Fenise and Don Lovis, who being assisted with him who counterfeited the dying man, bound and tied them to two trunks of trees, at the same time they went to Laure, who was half dead with fear, seized upon her, and one of the three having known her, said to the others, Courage my friends, I have found what I searched for; then taking the horse upon the which the head of the Troop was come, they set Laure upon him, tied her, and made her ride before them. Thus they abandoned the two prisoners to the mercy of their fortune, without taking either Arms or Horses, to let them know, that they who had ravished Laure from them, were persons that scorned so poor a booty.  
It would be more presumption than eloquence, to go about to describe the feelings of Fenise and Laure, seeing themselves so cruelly separated the one from the other. A spirit weaker than that of Fenise, would have been dejected with so sensible displeasures; seeing himself tied and deprived of all means to recover his dear Laure, who was carried away like a prisoner. She on the other side fell into tears and sighs which were able to have given apprehensions of pity, to any thing which is not entirely deprived thereof; she employed all her force to untie herself, to the end to be revenged upon herself, so far had despair transported her. The silence and imagination of the reader must supply the defaults of the discourse for the pen cannot lively enough represent an adventure so deplorable. Don Louis almost forgot his proper displeasures, to take part of the griefs of Fenise, yet without comforting of him, for as much as consolation cannot be admitted in violent afflictions, and it is a great secret to let pass the first violences. These Cavaliers had suffered this misery almost half an hour: when Don Lovis by violent moving and tormenting himself had slackened his cords, and not long after found means to lose himself. Fenise used the like diligence, but he could not arrive to his end so soon as Don Lovis, who was strong, and who knew how to add industry to force, having set himself at liberty he also delivered Fenise, they mounted upon their horses, ride after the ravishers of Laure, resolved to die or to overcome, and to take from them this glorious conquest. But they had not ridden far; when they were met by two horsemen, who they did believe fled, or pursued after some that fled from them, they were confirmed in this opinion, hearing one of them hastily utter these words: see the traitors, kill them, kill them, Marcell since we have reason of our side it is requisite that their blood repair their treachery. Don Lovis and Fenise were much astonished at this language, and for to warrant themselves from inconvenience they lighted, and put themselves in a posture of defence. The others seeing them thus resolved, imagined them to be those they looked for, then being carried away with the excess of their passion, and more blinded with choler than the darkness of the night, begun to set upon them with a great deal of rashness, in regard they were advantageously armed. And in effect, if heaven the protector of innocents' had not had care of Fenise and Lovis, they would have been in danger to have been sacrificed to the anger of these unknown. It happened that there was a little rundle betwitxt them which stayed the course of Marcell: and as he came to pass it, he fell into a puddle, from whence he was long before he could retire himself. His companion, called Leonard, found a happier passage; but which had like to have been that of his death, for he found himself betwixt two enemies, and without the good arms wherewith he was covered, he had presently seen his rashness paid with his blood; in the interim, Marcell got out of the bog, and came to his defence. Don Lovis seeing him come, left Fenise before Leonard, and went before him, crying hither, hither inconsiderate, to me, to me, heaven will serve itself with my arm to chastise thy insolence; at the sound of these words Marcell knew that his companion and himself were deceived, and that they fought not against those they sought for: he retired himself and cried to Leonard who was fight with Fenise, that he should make truce advertising him of the fault which his inconsideration had made him commit, in falling upon men they had nothing to demand of. At the instant Leonard ceased to press his adversary, who was already very weary and hurt, and lighting left his arms & went to secure him; the hurt of Fenise was upon his right, side, but it was given him in gliding, which was the cause that it entered not much into his body and in a place which was not mortal. They demanded pardon one of an other, and those who did before endeavour to take away one another's lives, used then all diligence to conserve them. For this effect they took the way to Valence, the habitation of the one, and the infortunate end of the others journey. Leonard extremely afflicted with the hurt of Fenise, did not cease to make him compliments and excuses, and to testify to him the extreme sorrow which he had for what was happened, he conjured Fenise to take his lodging, to the end he might endeavour by the services which he hoped to render him during the time of his indisposition, to merit the honour of his affection. Fenise used the same courtesy of his side; told him that he esteemed his blood well employed since that it had got him the acquaintance of so generous a Cavalier, to whose valour he had design to have recourse upon all occasions that should present themselves: they thus entertained themselves by the way, when Don Lovis said to Leonard and Marcell, that if they were willing to give them more certain proofs of their freedom they would not reject the prayer which they made to them, to recite the cause of the great precipitation wherewith they set upon them, without knowing to whom they addressed themselves, because Fenise would take delight in this recital; if it be true that there is consolation in the company of those that are touched with the same afflictions that we are. Leonard then spoke as being the most qualified. I would freely tell you, answered he, the cause of the too blamable rashness which I have committed, if this relation might not be received as a testimony of the honour which I bear you, hoping that greater occasions shall be presented wherein I may manifest it, but the fear I have to trouble this hurt Cavalier doth oblige me to excuse myself from satisfying your curiosity.  
Then Fenise added his prayers to those of Lovis, and at the same instant Leonard made them this discourse.   

leonard's HISTORY OF euphemy & TEODORE.  
THe town of Valence whither we are going, is the place of my birth, and ancient dwelling of my Ancestors: If I be not of the greatest families, at the least I am of the most noble, with the successions which my father and mother left me, leaving this world to go to a better life, they charged me with the care and guard of two Sisters, who had the reputation to be of the number of the fairest, not only of the town, but of the Province, as they grew up, my cares augmented; and in truth it is a dangerous charge to guard a fair Maid: I had an eye perpetually to conserve their honours, because besides my fraternal obligation, mine was therein engaged. I was always putting them in mind of the virtues of the illustrious Ladies of our lineage, to induce them to imitate the purity of their lives. The eldest was called euphemy, and if I be not a partial Judge, I may say that her graces and beauty were incomparable. Seeing her fit for marriage, there passed not many days before I desired her to resolve thereupon; and to excite her thereunto, I represented unto her, that the beauty of a Maid, was a flower exposed to the desires of a thousand Gallants, who would endeavour to stain the purity thereof. She was so easily persuaded by my reasons, and rendered her will so conformable to mine, that I sometimes doubted if we had two souls. I propounded unto her parties which I thought most convenient for her condition, for to dispose herself thereunto according to her liking, for a maid ought never to be constrained, she should be free in that election. After that she had maturely considered thereof in her particular, she made choice of a Cavalier called Don Alonso de Vlloa, whose Merits and Qualities were correspondent to hers.  
At that time, when I treated of these affairs, liberty of youth, which makes almost all young men commit extravagancies, carried me in the day to the conversation of my friends, and in the night to those Academies where they cut away the renown of the most honest men, where they ravish the goods of others, and where many vices are learned. I always lost my money, when I set down to play, it is true, that there is not much difference betwixt playing and losing, since that to express that a man hath lost his estate, we ordinarily say, that he hath played it. One night a Gentleman, with whom I played, quarrelled with me, almost without cause; from words we came to a challenge, and being agreed upon the place where we were to fight, we met there almost at the same instant, Fortune was more favourable to me than to my adversary; I do not say that I had more valour; for he that hath a heart to measure his sword with another's, aught to be esteemed as valiant, although he hath the worse. The combat was so advantageous to me, that I tamed the pride of mine enemy, and made him kiss the same place he had already bedewed with his blood.  
This Cavalier had a brother, which had a design to affront me, to ravish from me the glory I had gotten, to the confusion of his Kinsman, who seeing he could not execute his vengeance upon me, he invented the most infamous and cowardly one that is possible to be conceived by the most infamous of men. He resolved to make love to my Sister, to defame her honour and ruin mine; a new and cruel method to kill a man. He found occasions enough to execute this mischievous project; he took the time of my absence in a voyage which I must needs make to the Court; so that not being able to continue the necessary watch to guard the Citadel, this traitor most industriously made himself master thereof. euphemy rendered herself at his discretion; but let us excuse this fault, which might be caused by her youth, liberty, beauty, delights, solitude, amorous discourses, inflamed letters, services, witnesses of deceitful sincerity, the persuasions of others, her proper passions, or those who have heretofore experimented those things, tell me, what resistance can a maid make that is set upon so many ways? Don Pedro, so was this perfidious called, did not content himself with taking from her that which was most precious, but stole her away from my lodging, and being furnished with things necessary, carried her to Madrid, where being arrived, he told her he had no intention to entertain her there. But Gentlemen, be not astonished, if in telling you the rest, I hid my face for shame. He provided her a house proper to receive visits, it is the fashion to speak thus of such kind of people to disguise their infamy: I take the boldness to speak thus freely hoping in the consequence of this discourse, you will see that I am not guilty of these enormous delights, and that you shall by and by know the diligence that I have taken to deface them from my gentility. In a word, Eufemy, who might now more properly be called infamy, became one of the most famous Courtesans; the most courted, and the least reserved: Oh prodigious change of life! what astonishment was it to those, who had before seen her in her retained course of life, and then abandoned to all sorts of liberty, to those who had praised her honesty, and now considered her so disordered, to those, I say, who had seen her make scruple to be regarded only by the sun, now to see her so visited, that she was never one moment without company.  
Don Alonso, the cavalier that I told you sought her in marriage, having heard the deplorable newe● of her absence, not knowing no more than I what was become of her, absented himself from Valence sad almost to despair; And I abandoning my house went to Madrid to endeavour to divert the melancholy which consumed me, yet ignorant, that the Traitor and my infamous sister were there. Having stayed there some time, a young gentlewoman of condition and very rich, bore me some affection and by this meeting I was confirmed in the opinion which I had, that love is a conjunction of starts, whose conformity infuseth affections into the soul.  
I wholly employed myself, then to search after the tyrants of mine honour, I enquired after them of all my friends, presuming to hear something in Madrid, amongst the confusion of the court, which for refuge to so many sorts of persons, but all my diligences were vain.  
During this exercise, one day as I went in the town, a woman came to me and asked me my name, and I having told it her; she drew a letter from her bosom, put it in my hand and without giving me leisure to inform myself from whence she came: read this letter, said she, and neglect not your good fortune; when she is so inclined to favour you. I was astonished with this short speech, opened the paper and read this discourse.  
A LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN LADY TO LEONARD.  
YOur good countenance hath given me notice of your valour, the former testifieth your original, and both excites me to the boldness, to beseech you to meet me to morrow at seven a clock in the morning in Saint Heirosmes meadow, I will there tell you more amply what I desire from your generosity. I imagine that the merit of a gentlewoman of honour may oblige you to this courtesy; but I hope more from the nobleness of your courage. This bearer will serve you for a sign to know me.  
In ending the reading of this letter, I begun to be ignorant of the author, and the confusion wherein I was, made me wish that the term which she had given me was expired to be delivered therfrom. I passed the night in this impatience, and the hour being come I rendered myself at the place assigned, where I presently saw arrive too women who had their faces covered with cypress, which I did not think strange because it was the fashion, put I was astonished with the brightness of the beauty of one of these women, which she permitted me to see, in letting fall her veil upon her shoulder, as not thinking thereof, and lifting it up again at the same time, I remained as  at the splendour of this object; and as this had vailed again her face, the other discovered hers, thereby to let me know that it was she that had brought me the Letter. Then I thought it convenient to premeditate some little discourse wherewith to approach this Beauty, for he doth much that is able to pass the first encounter of a fair Lady with respect, and without committing some impertinency.  
Then animating my resolution, and using all all the courtesy I could possible, I said to her; Madam, if I be too bold thus to accost you, the confusion which this paper hath given me, and this messenger which brought it me, may serve me for excuse. I have learned by the discourse thereof, that Heaven is willing to render me worthy to serve you, and that you desired that I might come hither to receive the honour of your commands: And since that I am come, and have seen, there rests nothing but to overcome the obstacles, which would oppose themselves to your contentment, as I shall do without doubt when you ordain me. Then this Lady again discovered her admirable countenance, and looking upon me with gracious eyes, Cavalier, said she, I esteem myself much indebted to your courtesy, which merits more praise than excuse; but I blame her who hath caused you to come hither, and whose imbecility hath at this time so greatly prejudiced mine honour. Saying so, she turned towards Feliciane, so was she called that accompanied her, and severely chid her: She who was prepared of what she ought to say, made a thousand excuses to Teodore, this was the name of that Lady, who coming again to me, spoke this language; I must confess I writ what this woman gave you, and that I am very happy that it light in the hands of a person of merit, as you are, although I do not know you to be of the quality of him to whom I had intention my letter should have been given, who is a brave Gentleman.  
Thereupon I took occasion to tell her what I was, but feigned to be come to the Court for better occasions than those that kept me there. She answered me, that the courteous actions I had shown her, would serve for warrant to my words, but that her affair was a secret, praying me to pardon her if she told me nothing thereof; for although she judged I might be confided in for things of much greater importance, so it was continued, she that the little knowledge which she had of me, hindered her from taking the boldness of communicating her secrets unto me. She said all this to the ●nd to oblige me to promise her to see her afterwards: But being at Madrid, rather to execute the effects of hate and vengeance, then seek the pastimes of love, I neglected this occasion, and civilly took ●eave of her.  
Teodore stayed there very ill satisfied with her industry, and the little power which the darts of ●er eyes had had over my heart, she had good cause ●o be astonished therewith, for they had so many allurements and charms, that it had been imposable for another less afflicted then me to have reested their force. So that considering my coldness, ●●e knew not whether she ought to attribute it to contempt, or accuse me of want of judgement, ha●ing not conceived her intentions. She finding her self pressed with her passion, resolved to hazard what she had the most dear to satisfy it: and what is it which a woman animated with love will not prove to content her desires, and render those things easy, which seems impossible unto her? But for to render this discourse less troublesome unto you, I must here make a digression. You must know then, that during this time, I met Don Alonso, whom I believed to have been far from Madrid; after embracements, and ordinary compliments, which pass amongst friends, he told me, that besides his passed sorrows he had a new displeasure at his heart; this inquietude made me curious to know the cause thereof; then in renewing unto me his ancient protestations of amity, he told me that the day before he was amongst young men, such as seek their pastime every where, and who give to their senses all they can wish for, who having discovered where euphemy was, and knowing that he had heretofore had design for her, had let him see her unknown to her, he being disguised for that cause: that he had like to have died at the instant of this Vision, and in this cruel displeasure it was some ease to him to advertise me thereof, to seek mean● to remedy it the most discreetly that could be possible.  
These news stirred up so violently my vengeance, that nothing seemed hard to me to execute; he named to me the street and house, and then left me: Almost at the same time, a servant that was unknown to me, came to tell me that there was a Lady in such a house that desired to see me in the evening, and communicate unto me something of importance, and presently went her way; the house which she directed me unto was the very same that Alonso had told me of, where resided the original of my opprobry. I considered the great impudence of her that desired to see me in stead of flying from me, which made me suspect some treason; but amongst these confusions, passing beyond all apprehensions, I went to the lodging with a poniard hidden. This new Messenger stayed for me at the door, and conducted me into a chamber, where I found a candle upon a cupboard a ●ittle removed, and betwixt the wall and bed, a woman in petticoat and waistcoat. I had scarcely perceived her, and begun to draw my poniard, lift●p mine arm to strike her, when she cried, Ah Sir, what will you do? I stayed myself, hearing by the sound of her voice, that it was not ●he I imagined: in the same time I ran to the candlestick, and in approaching her, I knew that it was Teodore, whose fear had so increased her beauty, besides the art which she had joined to nature, that 〈◊〉 had taken her for a Goddess, if I had not remembered myself to have spoken with her in the meadow of St. Hierosme. I was so extremely surprised with ●his accident, that I doubted whether it was fond imagination or truth, I did not know whether Alonso mocked me or no. In fine, after a long suspension of mind, the apprehensions of hate gave place to those of love; and as I went to demand her pardon for my error, there came into the chamber the servant that came to seek me from her, accompanied with Feliciane, her first confident, who ●ame running at the clamour of Teodore, thinking that I would take away the life of her, that had ravished from me my liberty; and seeing me yet have the poniard in my hand, which glissened by the light of the candle, they fled, crying murder, and for help. I went after them, to stay them, and upon the stairs I met lascivious euphemy, coming up with a torch in her hand, to know from whence proceeded this great disorder. For me, I confess, that when I knew her, my whole body begun to tremble, being ready to discharge itself of the heavy burden of my affront; but as soon as she saw me with the poniard in my hand, fear of death so violently transported her, that she cast herself out of a window of the stairs which looked into the Court, I was very glad to see her resolution, thinking that in saving herself from my rigour, she would chastise herself, but it happened otherwise: I put my head out of the window, thinking to have seen her broken to pieces upon the pavement, and I saw her in the arms of Don Pedro, he who had debauched her, who happened to be directly under the window at the instant of her fall, he saved her in receiving her into his arms, for he was strong, and the window not very high. I ran hastily to take the occasion that was offered me to be revenged of them both in the same time, and poniard them both together, but the two servants had shut the door of the stairs which entered into the court. Seeing then so many obstacles to the execution of my design, choler so violently surmounted me, that I went up the stairs to cast myself out of the same window, I did it as soon as thought it, but my fall was not so happy as that of euphemy, I hurt so extremely one of my legs, that when I would have gone to have ruined my enemies, it was impossible for me to go, which gave them leisure to save themselves. Teodore altogether confused with this prodigious rumour, got quickly to her lodging, wherein she entered without wakening her father. I doubt not Gentlemen, but that you desire to know by what accident Teoddre came into this place, but I will tell you the reason thereof.  
Eufemy was lodged near her house, and Teodore knowing the life which she led, determined to be acquainted with her, by the intermission of Feliciane, who went to make compliments to her from her in the quality of a neighbour. At the end of some few days, she demanded permission of her Father (for her Mother was deceased) to go see one of her cousins that was sick. The good man seeing his daughter excited with so charitable a desire, gave her leave, upon condition, that Feliciane should accompany her; for he confided in her, and thought the Chastity of Teodore in great safeguard with her.  
They went abroad together, made some turns in the streets, and stayed under a door, where they disguised themselves, as well as they could; for fear of being known, and so entered into the house of euphemy. She seeing Teodore at her house was ravished with that honour, as they are ordinarily who meddle with the trade she did, when other women come to visit them. Eufemy embraced her a thousand times, transported with joy and admiration; and after many fair words given and received of one and the other, euphemy prayed Teodore to tell her wherefore she had taken the pains to visit her. Then without suffering herself to be much entreated, she ingeniously declared to her that she had made choice of her lodging to satisfy an extreme passion; that she loved a Cavalier, which she was a going to send for; and for that purpose, she prayed her to lend her a chamber for a little time, that passing for a Courtesan, she might without being known, content her amorous desires.  
Consider a little how this Gentlewoman prostituted her honour, to adhere to her sensual fantasies! but what is it that a woman animated with love will not prove to make easy the things that seem to her impossible? let us now return to the house of euphemy, to see what happened there, after the hurt which I had received in leaping out of the window. Her servant which fled away, seeing me with the Poniard in my hand, went in a fright to fetch a Justice, who being arrived, made me be carried to prison, without any formality in a chair. Before that this officer was entered into the house, the Pregnotory had received the depositions of two witnesses, who said that I had given to a woman three great stabs with a Poniard, and that they had seen the wounds. The vulgar are such liars, that they affirm to have seen that they only dreamed of, and hold for truth what they have heard say, as if they had seen it. They would then know in what estate the hurt person was, but they found nothing but witnesses of my justification; nevertheless I remained three weeks a prisoner. Do but see a little how rigorously the innocents' are handled by those people they call Justices.  
In the mean while euphemy & her protector changed either the country or quarter, but if they were in Madrid, they were well hid; for in six months that I stayed there, it was impossible for me to hear news of them, what diligence soever I could use. As long as my captivity lasted, Teodore sent often Feliciane to see me, and to offer me assistance and money, but not having need, neither of the one nor other, both because of my justification, and not being in want; I thanked her, remaining always extremely obliged to her good will, and indebted to her affection, whereof she rendered me sufficient proofs during my imprisonment. If my body was set at libertv, my soul was enchained; the beauty of Teodore captivated all my powers; my understanding understood nothing but of her, my memory had no other image, my will walked not but by the shadow of hers: She simpathized to all my feelings; I failed not to be every night at the foot of her walls, and she never wanted to be at her window: I lived not but by her presence, nor her heart was ever at ease but when she saw me. One night when I went to prattle with her, and give nourishment to my flames, her father surprised her, which was the cause that the window was walled up, and that this Sun was long time eclipsed from me. After having suffered much for her absence, I had a Packet brought to me from the Post, wherein was a Letter directed to the Father of Teodore. I presently imagined that this was not done without mystery; in this thought I opened the Letter, which was directed to me, wherein I found this discourse, which I knew to be written by the hand of Teodore.  
THE LETTER OF TEO. DOOR TO LEONARD.  
I have already rendered you so many proofs of my affection, dear Leonard, that I do not think you can doubt thereof: If you desire to conserve it, you must assist me to warrant it from the dangers that threaten it, or I shall now know that yours is but dissimulation. My father treateth about marrying me to a Cavalier his kinsman, who is of the province of Guipuscoa as he himself is, and although there are presented many parties more advantageous for me, yet those of that country are of such humour; that they esteem none but those of their own nation; for that cause my father desires I should continue the alliance thereof: but my nature repugns to those affections, because your merit makes me search means to avoid the constraint of this obedience. He expects hourly this Cavalier, and I prepare myself for death every moment. I am told that he hath been rustically educated; and to marry me to him was to renew the cruel tortures of the ancients, it is to tie a living person to a dead, to make it die with more horror. Secure me in the danger I run, since it is only your consideration that that renders all propositions of marriage odious unto me. It will be easy for you to do in taking a country habit, and feigning yourself to be called Don Martin Elizalde, and give this packet of letters to my father: this being done to save me, I will charge myself with the rest.  
I was a little shaken in the resolution of this enterprise, but seeing that therein consisted the conservation of a thing so precious, as was the love of. Teodore, I clothed myself like a traveller, and mounted upon a Mule; I arrived all alone at the door of my dear Teodore: I addressed myself to her father, gave him her letter, feigned to be Don Martin, and saying that I was advanced two day's journeys before my people and equipage, to satisfy the amorous impatience that I had to see his daughter. I was embraced by him with much affection. All the family received me with applause; Theodore felt an interior joy, but she made appear an exterior modesty. I spoke little for fear of discovering myself: I was respectful as a young lover and stranger. The letters▪ which Teodore had sent were read, the which were effectually come from Guipuscoa, and light in her hands unknown to her father; so that she had kept them to serve herself thereof upon occasion. I am astonished said her father to me, that my cousin your father sends me word, that Don Martin should begin his journey within a short time, and nevertheless you are already arrived: I was already extremely surprised with these words, but love inspired me suddenly with this reply. Sir said I, it is true that my father believed that I should not come so soon as I am, and to give you some excuse for my delay, he writ this letter, but my affection which could not permit any stay, solicited me to be the bearer thereof myself. He easily believed me, and two days after with the dispensation of the pope's Nuntio Teodore and I were married without publication of banes. The day following I so admired at this success that I knew not myself, I looked in the glass fearing that I was some other. In truth I was so, for a wise man ceaseth to be himself when he marrieth. I contemplated my wife, who I saw ravished to have me for her husband; and in this conformity of joy it seemed impossible that any humane contentment could equal my amorous imprisonment and her free possession.  
In the very excess of this joy I was in great care of what would be the success of this intricacy. We expected from hour to hour Don Martin; at the beginning of the night one of his Laquyes arrived, saying that he would come the next day, and that he was got before to deserve the recompense of bringing the first news thereof; when the good man my father in law heard that Don Martin was coming, he came up all moved into the chamber where I was set near to Teodore, and asked me where I le● my train. Then in smiling I pushed his daughter with my elbow to the end she might answer for me to this question. She boldly told him that I was not Don Martin, but a cavalier of Valence, which equalled him in nobleness, and surpassed him in riches, that she was assured of all this before she resolved herself to do what she had done; and if that I wanted those advantages my merits and her affection would supply all. In fine, that since I was her huband there was nothing more to be said.  
She spoke with the resolution of a wife that would please her husband: her father, who loved her dear, answered her, that if she was content, he was so also: that he esteemed and honoured my person; but that he feared that Don Martin finding himself offended with this proceeding should do them some displeasure. Teodore answered him, that ●he should let her alone, and she would remedy all, or would be exposed to suffer alone all the evil that could come thereof.  
In this occasion, I found that a woman's spirit is extremely ingenious in pressing affairs. Her intention was, to counsel me to go out of the house, and to court her as if I was her lover, and not her husband; then she prayed her father, and advertised all the servants, who would have sacrificed their lives to serve her, to make a joyful reception of the stranger when he should come, even as he was to be her husband. The assurance that I had of the goodness of her wit, and seeing that I neither hazarded her honour nor mine own in executing her advise, obliged me to aid and consent to her designs. I went out of the house the same day that this abused cavalier arrived. He was received with all the good cheer that was possible, but he appeared to the eyes and judgements of all those of the house, a beast in humane form, with an ill countenance, uncivil and unwieldy, so that his impertinence rendered me the more commendable; which gave greater means to Teodore to conduct her project as she had premeditated. From that day I went and came many times before the house: he took notice of these actions, and saw that I lifted up mine eyes every moment to the windows where Feliciane appeared every moment; and he imagining that we did not perceive that he spied our actions, he perceived that I gave a letter to the same Feliciane, which she put in her bosom, and as being unseen gave it to Teodore. In brief, every one of us played so well his personage in this Comedy, where Don Martin held the babble, that the catastrophe thereof was pleasant for us, and ridiculous for him. Seeing so many witnesses, that his Mistress had other thoughts than his, he begun to seem melancholic; he spoke but by monosyllables; he neither eat nor slept, but to the half part: in fine, to deliver himself from these inquietudes, he pressed the conclusion of the Marriage; but of the other side, Teodore prayed her Father in his presence to defer it yet, excusing herself to be indisposed to that action; and he, full of respect, or rather fear, resolved to have patience and suffer.  
In the interim, to the end to make him the more sick, it came into my fancy to give a serenade to my wife, counterfeiting the amorous passionate, and having advertised her at what hour I would be under her window, she came to the window, where she heard these verses recited.  

O busy tedious law of reason  
How much art thou out of season,  
When nothing can thy fury quell,  
And whilst thy vain seditious course  
That would would my strong passions force,  
Makes me against myself rebel.  
Thy Physic cannot me restore,  
Farewell and trouble me no more.   

That Beauty that claims heaven by merit  
To which my undaunted Spirit  
An eternal Victim's made,  
From her sweet as modest eye,  
Let's such Flames and Arrows fly,  
That 'twere a crime but to evade.  
Thy Physic, cannot me restore,  
Farewell and trouble me no more.   

Though hopeless I am a presumer,  
Yet to adore her 'tis my humour.  
She's too chaste, too fair not to take,  
Faith to what end then serves thy Treason,  
When I have never so much reason?  
As when I love it for her sake.  
Thy Physic cannot me restore,  
Farewell and trouble me no more.   
In such occasions, the greatest part of discreet Lovers, content themselves that the subject of their passion know, that it is they that give the Music, and endeavour to hid the knowledge thereof from all others, but I proceeded otherwise: When the Consort was ended, I approached to those that had sung, and speaking high, made myself to be named, with design to be known; from thence I went to salute Teodore, and after having made her excuses, that the Verse and Music were not so good as she deserved, and she had given me such thanks as civility obliged her to, I retired myself, testifying by my gestures and words, that I was much in her favour.  
This jolly troop that accompanied me were not so modest, nor made so little noise before the house of Teodore, but that they wakened my poor competitor, or rather gave him subject to rise from his bed; for I think his inquietudes would not suffer him to sleep. He came then to hear this consort, which was as odious to him, as pleasant to others that heard it, yet he spoke not one word thereof, no more than of the words he had heard, he contented himself to confer with one of his servants, whom he had made his confident; who having more wit and understanding, let him know, that Teodore must needs be engaged in affection to him that gave her the Serenade; that such carriages were to be● suspected, and that the excuses she had made to her Father for to hinder the execution of their marriage, testified sufficiently that she had other desires than his. In fine, he advised him to retire himself, if he would save his honour. Don Martin being persuaded by these reasons, feigned to have received a Letter from his Father, which called him home in diligence, because he was very sick, and taking leave of the father of Teodore, promised him to return as soon as he could possible.  
Thus Teodore quit herself ingeniously of this displeasing pretendant; we re-entered into the enjoying of our felicity (one may so call a marriage, wherein the affections are conformable) The invention was published, and the ignorance of the Biscain Gentleman mocked.  
But as there is no pleasure in this life which is not mingled with bitterness, not long after his departure my Father in Law took also leave of us for to go into a better life. Then pressed with desire to see again my country and my other sister, which I had left at my house. I came to this town accompanied with my dear Teodore. It is now but three days since I arrived here, and this night I have received a writing from Don Martin, who incited by his Father and his Friends demands reason of me for the injury I have done him, in taking from him his wife. I prepared myself to meet him, not with design to do him any displeasure, but civilly to satisfy him, when a man came as a friend to admonish me not to stir out but well armed, and with a good second, because the Letter that I had received came not from Don Martin, but from two of the Cousins of Don Pedro, in his name, who would set upon me to revenge their Kinsman, (whom they were told) I had killed. I was not so rash to despise this advertisement: I furnished myself with what was requisite to resist mine enemy, and accompanied myself with Seigneur Marcell my Kinsman, a generous man, and to whom I am obliged. We came together to the rendezvous, which was near to the place where I set upon you, where I knew your valour, and where I hurt my heart with a perpetual sorrow in hurting you; for reparation of which fault, and to convert our indifferences into affection, I consecrate to ease your troubles and misfortunes my house, my person and all I possess.  
Fenise thanked him for his offers, and thereupon they arrived in the town of Valence, and at the prayer of Leonard went to light at his house, at the same instant a Chirurgeon was fetched, who visited the wounds of Fenise, to the which he applied necessary plasters, judging that they were not dangerous, but that they would be long in healing. In effect two months were spent in this cure, during which time Fenise had in abundance all things, that was necessary for him, so that being obliged with so many benefits, he discovered to him the very secrets of his heart, and his adventures, from the beginning until the ravishment of Laure, the only thing which troubled him the most. Leonard promised to assist him in all that he could possible, & assured him that he should have presently news thereof, or the Ravishers should not be in Valence. These officious promises reanimated the courage, and augmented the health of Fenise; and as soon as he was able to go abroad, he privately enquired who he was from whom he had received so great an affront.   
The End of the first Book of FENISE.   

THE SECOND BOOK OF FENISE.  
WHosoever will make comparison of the inquities of this Age, with those of times past, will easily see, that the World hath always been vicious, and our nature always fragile; when I remember the words of Seneca, Virtues are perished; Fortitude, Piety, and Modesty have left us, and it is almost impossible for them to find the way to return again unto us: I imagine with myself, that Fenise lived in the time of Seneca, or that Seneca was present at the misfortunes of Fenise.  
The experience of the Chirurgeon, and the sweet entertainment of his host, advanced his recovery sooner then was expected: as soon as he was permitted to go abroad, he begun to make all the diligences imaginable to recover the delights of his life which he had lost in dear Laure. Don Lovis, interessing himself as a perfect friend, in all things that concerned him, spared neither labour nor dexterity, discreetly to inquire in all places where he presumed to hear any thing thereof. They employed all the day in this troublesome exercise, but seeing that it advanced them nothing, they were therewith doubly wearied; their bodies laboured therein as well as their spirits; for it is true that the one cannot feel any evil but the other participates thereof.  
Fenise scarcely knew what to resolve upon, if not to refer all his hopes unto time, when one day coming from the town, dejected with weariness and vexation, he threw himself upon a bed to repose himself: it was there that his sorrows increased, he suffered himself to be carried away, with the excess of his displeasures, and seemed to exhale his very soul with sighs and sobs, when he heard one knock softly at his chamber door, and as he had always his imagination occupied with the object of Laure, and his heart with desires to see her again, he persuaded himself that this was some one that came to give him advice of her. He arose quickly and saw a young maid of the house, who with an action, fearful and hasty, said to him. Sir, I doubt not but you are astonished, to see me here, for admiration is the daughter of Novelty: here is a letter from Celie my mistress which she prayeth you to read, and satisfy her in what she desires of you, if the respect of an honourable Lady may oblige you thereunto. Fenise demanded of her who Celie was: the messenger answered him that she was the sister of Leonard, and that she could not talk to him any longer for fear the Cavalier should find her speaking to him, or might have some shadow thereof. Fenise more astonished then before, received the letter, made a compliment to the messenger and her mistress, and promised to obey all that she could command him, assuring himself that their discretion, would not engage him in uncivil enterprises. This maid being gone, Fenise was ill troubled to imagine what this Lady could desire from him, having never seen him; nevertheless after having many times contemplated the letter yet sealed, he resolved to open it, and saw that it contained this discourse.  
A LETTER FROM CELIE TO FENISE.  
THe esteem and commendations which oftentimes I have heard my brother publish of your worth, excuse the boldness which I take to address myself to you, for an affair of great importance, it requireth a longer relation than this paper can contain, and less delay than you may imagine. You shall have the whole explication thereof this afternoon if you will take the pains to go abroad. A maid shall be at the door to conduct you to a place of assurance, where you shall see a person, whose entertain shall supply the brevity of this discourse. I persuade myself that your generosity will render you observant to these desires, and that you will esteem yourself indebted to me for having given you an occasion to serve a fair Lady.  
Never man was so surprised as Fenise was after the reading of this writing; he read it three or four times over, and the more he read it the more aenigmas he found therein. He had divers imaginations, but that which troubled him the most, was the fear to be invited to some action, which might violate the respect of hospitality which he reverenced as things holy. In the end resolved to enterprise nothing unworthy of him, he went out of the house at the hour appointed, and walked thereabouts expecting the maid that was to be his guide. She came incontinent, her face covered with a veil; she approached to Fenise and asked him his name; and seeing that it was he whom she sought, she prayed him to follow her, but a little behind for fear of being perceived, and that he should enter boldly and without any apprehension, into the house whither she carried him. Fenise answered her that he feared nothing, having nothing to lose but his life, and he needed not search far, to be too unhappy. Saying thus he went after the maid, and not far from the place where they met, they secretly entered into a house, very fair without and curiously hung within; at the entry into the hall, this girl discovered her face, and bade him yet follow her; she led him up a pair; of stairs into an Antichamber, richly adorned with the fairest tapestry of Flanders: then his conductress prayed him to stay a little, to whom he obeyed; in the interim he considered the propriety of this house, and to what end he was brought thither: but incontinently the maid returned, and made him enter into a great cabinet, filled with an infinite of rich furniture, as pictures, glasses, plate, candlesticks, and arms of silver gilt, and other curiosities very delightful to the sight, a great piece of Turkey tapestry covered the floor, upon the which were great store of cushions, and cushionets, of velvet, and imbroydery. When he was there, there entered a young Lady, perfectly fair, clothed in mourning, but with such order, comeliness, and good carriage, that with this modest and sad colour, she had more Majesty and Lustre, than another would have had in the most lively colours and shining attires. Having saluted one the other, she made them give him a seat, sat herself down by him, and commanded her women to retire themselves to the end she might discourse more freely of her secrets.  
Then Fenise spoke, and by a well polished compliment let her know his ability in speaking, and the vivacity of his wit: This Lady answered him with all the courtesy and civility imaginable. Sir (said she) I thank my good fortune, for having rendered me so happy as to have your acquaintance, to trust you with an important affair, wherein I have need of two excellent qualities, which I believe to find in your person, discretion, and valour; the one for to keep secret the project, and the other for to execute it. And since that you offer me your assistance in this occasion, I will take you at your word, upon the assurance that I have, that you have too much generosity to fail in the effects of your words. But before that I explicate myself further, it is necessary that I make you a little discourse of my life, to move you the more to assist me in the afflictions which oppress me.  

THE HISTORY OF RUFINE AND DON JOVAN.  
ALthough that my Parents are not much accommodated with the favours of Fortune, so it is that Nature gratified them with an honour which cannot be purchased with riches, which is nobleness. With this advantage I was borne in Sevill, one of the most pleasant Towns the Sun shineth upon. I am called Rufine: My Father and Mother seeing that Heaven had not made me ill-favoured, if I may speak it without vanity, had care to bring me up according as their little estate would permit. I had attained to the sixteenth year of my age, when a Cavalier of this Town of Valence, of an illustrious name, coming from Lema, a Town and Realm of the West Indies, took Port at Sevill, full of prosperity and honour, and my destiny having one night conducted me into the company of Ladies where he was invited, she also made him cast his eyes upon me, and made me the object of his desires. After which time, to abridge my discourse, I was delivered into his free possession, but by the holy ways of Christian Laws. Not long after he had design to return into his Country, and to take me with him, there to establish our perpetual abode; and forasmuch an honest wife ought to have no other will but that of her husband, I willingly went with him, and we lived together six years, which was the time that Heaven had limited to finish my contentment with his life. I than remained alone, yet accompanied with riches and sorrow, for temporal goods are not always the riches of the soul, from whence it proceeds that there is many poor contented, and rich miserable. He left me the only inheritrix of all his possessions, by which means I was respected and served as a Queen. My sorrows for the loss of this brave Cavalier kept me company two years entire; but in the end, suffering myself to be persuaded by the consolations of my friends that visited me, I begun to leave my solitude, and to frequent those conversations whither my youth led me. In one of these Assemblies I was considered by a Gentleman, a stranger which arrived in this Town about three months since, a man of a good countenance, and as well accomplished as any other of his condition, suffering himself to be wounded by mine eyes (as he said) he found an invention to declare his inquietudes by a Letter, which I favourably received, and found it so well indicted, that it incited me to esteem the Author, and give him a civil answer, from whence he took occasion to render me proofs of a sincere passion, and the services of a voluntary slave. In the end, his continual submissions obliged me to wish him well, and for to render him some proofs thereof, I permitted him to visit me one evening after supper, but my Garden-window was betwixt us. In the enjoying of this honour, after having told me that he was of Teledo, and was called Don Jovan de Valazquez, he made me a thousand protestations of service, swearing to renounce all remembrances to remain all his life at my feet if it pleased me, and esteeming himself most happy to he under the subjection of so adorable a Mistress; these was the terms which he used. But seeing that his passion begun to enter into excess, I prayed him to retire himself, showing him that this was enough for the first sight; assuring him that I honoured him with all my heart. He obeyed me, and at the same time went his way, and left me as voluntarily obliged; for after a woman of honour hath given her word, she is bound to accomplish it.  
He saw me many other times in the same manner, and one night, knowing that I would not agree that he should come into my house, nor adhere to his desires, if he did not give me his word to marry me, he made me promise thereof, in taking my hand and kissing it, believing already, that under this weak assurance, I must accord to what he pretended, and by and by open him the door of my house and honour; but he saw himself deceived in his attempt. Having received his protestations, I made him answer, that since we were both of free condition, and that there was nothing that could cross our mutual intentions, the next day we would dispose ourselves to confirm our faith in the presence of the sacred Ministers, and after that, he should have an absolute power over my person, goods, and life.  
When he saw me in this resolution, he begun to demand term for the execution thereof, saying that before that, he must receive news of letters of Exchange which he had sent for, to the end he might solemnize the Marriage according to his quality. In 〈◊〉 word, from that hour he became less inflamed, ●ore careless in his visits, and more retained in ●is carriage, which let me know the great error 〈◊〉 had like to have fallen into, if I should have suffered him to have approached me nearer than the thickness of the bars of my Window. The know●ge of his merits which I had got by his frequent conversation, left not my mind so free but that I had an extreme sorrow to see myself so separated from him; I begun to reason upon his actions, and to seek the cause of his coldness, and to speak truly to you, either by love, jealousy, or curiosity, or it may be by all these affections together, I found means to speak with a woman that dwelled in his house, and to oblige her by presents and promises to tell me the particulars of the life he lead. I found this woman so willing to satisfy me, that she told me more than f expected. She told me that Don Jovan had with him an extreme fair Lady, which was of his Country, and who was called Laure. That at first when he brought her to Valence, he could not make her resolve to adhere to his desires, but at the present she believed she was pacified and reduced to his will.  
But Sir, What is it that the malicious industry of men will not accomplish? And to what fragility is not the inconstant nature of a woman subject? I thought it strange that this Lady should show herself so cruel towards him, since that she came with him, and when I demanded of this woman the cause thereof, she told me, that she had learned all of a servant of Don jovans (with whom I hear since she hath good intelligence) who told her, that Don jovan was become amorous at Toledo of a Lady, Mistress to one of his friends: That having been forced to absent himself for a Homicide which he had committed, and not being able to carry her with him, he had left this servant at Toledo, to see what would become of this Lady during his absence, and to let him know when it would be expedient to execute the intention which he had to steal her secretly, and to carry her away with him; so that this servant faithful to his Master, having discovered, that this Lady was in the company of her true Lover, who was conducting her to Valence, he had followed them from place to place disguised, and had got before them the last day's journey with diligence, to advertise his Master thereof, who at the same instant accompanied with him and another of his friends disguised, and put themselves in ambush in the way, and with more treason and industry than valour, had surprised these Lovers, and stolen away the Lady, whom he keeps at this hour in his house. In fine, by force of flatteries, services, and by diverting her by all the recreations he could devise, he had not only made her forget her lispleasures, but had rendered her sensible of his passion.  
After this discourse, I remained in the condition of a jealous person, who hath found the cause of his disease, protesting to search all means to revenge myself. It is long since I have been troubled for this purpose; for although this passion be violent amongst women, and in me more than any other; yet I would not make my infirmity publicly known; I desire to redress it. And communicating my feelings yesterday to Madam Celie, mine alien, if amity contracts alliance, she told me of the merits of your person, and amongst others, your courage and discretion; so that considering all these circumstances, and also that you are a stranger in this town, and of the country of Don Jovan, I determined with the counsel of Celie, to to discover to you the evil which persecutes me, to trust to you with my secrets, and to demand your assistance to put my spirit to repose. I do not hope it from any merit of mine own, but from your proper valour, which will not suffer you to refuse a courtesy to a Lady which never will be ingrateful.  
It was not necessary to give so many marks to Fenise, to let him know that the author of this affront had been before trusted with the secreets of his Loves. But in dissembling his anger and jealousy, he busied himself in thinking what art he should use to revenge himself of this perfidious, being thereunto engaged more by his proper feelings, than by the interests or prayers of Rufine. Madam, answered he, you have shown so much wit and judgement in the discourse you have now told me, that in trusting me with your secrets you have ravished from me my liberty. I can no longer dispose of my will, I am ready to obey all you please to command; assuring you that I will be the instrument of your vengeance, and the executer of your desires. I find so much cowardliness and infamy in the soul of Don jovan, that although he be of noble extraction, I esteem him no more than an infamous person. It is not the same thing to be born noble, and to be so, for there are many that are noble, without being borne so; and also many that degenerate from their nobleness by the unworthy actions which they commit. Sir, replied Rufine, I esteem myself no longer unhappy, since that Heaven hath now given me so generous a defender as you are.  
But to begin our enterprise, t desire that you should this night know the house and person. I have already made one of my Cousins become acquainted with Laure, she shall anon go to visit her, and you with her, if you please, disguised, and in the quality of her servant to wait upon her. The evil that I desire to do to this ingrate, by your means is no other than what he hath already done to the Cavalier from whom he hath ravished Laure his honour, and joy all together.  
Fenise was then in humour to undertake any thing, nothing seemed difficult unto him: And remembering himself of the recital which Rufine had made him, he judged that he was one of the three with his face covered, that had left him for dead in the mountains of Toledo, as we have told you in the beginning of this book. He was confirmed in this opinion by that (which Laure had told him) he had done the night he had slain Felix, which was to go to her chamber under pretext to warrant her from the danger of Justice; and all this was but adding oil to the fire of his choler. In fine, the time that Rufine and he desired with impatience arrived: Narcisse which was her Cousin came at the hour she was sent for, and going out with Fenise came incontinently to the house of Don jovan. Fenise let Narcisse go in, and attended at the door disguised with a false beard, feigning to be servant to this Gentlewoman, who was courteously received by Laure, and welcomed by Don jovan; if not as the cousin of Rufine, at the least in the quality of the intimate friend of Laure. Fenise was not so fare from the room where they conversed, but that he heard all that they did and said, in walking; for the door was open. He knew his perfidious friend and ingrateful Lover, whose repose of spirit he admired, whilst his suffered so great inquietudes. He represented to himself a thousand things, whose conclusions were always augmentations to his displeasures. Many times he was upon the very point to execute his vengeance, so fare did his anger transport him; then he deferred it, expecting a better occasion.  
He forgot himself to remark their disbourses, familiarity and love; he almost lost his wits in considering the strange change of Laure. At every moment he saw gestures, or heard such discourses as made him die with despite, and yet he beheld and harkened carefully. So the greatest evil of jealous persons (and what hinders them from finding remedy) is to desire things which kill them. Every minute seemed to him an age, but as ages have their beginnings, they have their ends. Narcisse at the end of a little time took leave, & went out of the room. Laure went out with her to accompany her, where Fenise had occasion to consider her as well with extreme sorrow to see her so ingrateful, as to see her so dishonesty abandoned, to the possession of another, he could not speak; and had it not been for fear of giving advantage to his enemies he had at that time committed some excess. Don Jovan would wait upon Narcisse to her house, although she prayed him not to take that pains, she having a man with her for that purpose, but the courtesy of the Cavalier prevailed with her. When Fenise saw so near to him the author of his troubles, he had attempted upon his life, had it not been for the respect he bore to Narcisse; But Don Jovan having left her at one of her friends houses where she feigned to have business, Fenise followed him, and not far from thence, overtook him with his false beard which disguised his voice as well as his face, for he held it in his teeth by a little string of wire; Sir, said he, feigning not to know him, is it not you who is called Don Jovan? yes answered the traitor, what would you have with me? there is, answered Fenise, a Lady without the gate of the town in a Coach who desires to communicate to you a secret of importance, if you will see her: Who is she, said Don Jovan; I dare not tell you her name, answered Fenise, not being assured that you will take the pains to go to her: but you need fear nothing, you shall speak to her alone. I will go upon your word, replied Don jovan, though it may be another would make difficulty thereof; saying thus, he lead him to a place a little distant from the town, when Don Jovan looking on all sides him, and seeing no body, whether he knew Fenise or no, he asked him where the Lady was, you shall see her presently answered Fenise. Then Don jovan drawing his sword and retiring three paces, told him that before he passed further he would know who he was. I am content said generously our enraged lover casting away his false beard, look upon me, I am Fenise, and know, that I have but thus long retarded to make thee feel the chastisement of thy treason, to bring thee into a place where there may be no witnesses of the vengeance I am going to take of thy treachery, for I hope that heaven the revenger of wrongs will assist me in this action: in saying so he threw away the scabbard of his sword and poniard, and put himself into the posture of an active and valiant man; Don Jovan knowing who he had before him, full of confusion or shame, made him no satisfaction, but on the contrary told him, that he had long desired this meeting, and that he was glad to see him in this estate, for to take his life from him generously; and by his death to enjoy more freely the contentment which he possessed. He could say no more because Fenise pressed him so quickly, or rather so mortally, that it behoved him to move all his members, in stead of his tongue to defend himself from the furious thrusts which he gave him, being newly angered with the insolent words of his enemy. But what violence or address he could use in this action; he presently felt the just punishment of his treachery: Fenise gave him three wounds, by the which his soul found her desired issue out of his traitorous body. His conqueror seeing him dead was sorry for him, for so deplorable a death as that was, would touch the heart of any generous man. But advising himself, that he ought more to the satisfaction of the offence then to pity, he determined to do as much to Laure, to the end to chastise her inconstancy, exterminate her beauty, and to give a new example to ingratefulls; to this end he threw away his hat and cloak into a pit, and took those of his enemy, which was of a higher colour, and being so covered, he went to the door of the house of the dead man, where Laure was: he knocked, one of the servants looked out of a Balconia, and believing that it was Don Jovan her master descended presently to open him the door, but not finding the key in the lock she went up again to look it. Whilst Fenise stayed at the door consulting what he should say and do to his ungrateful and perfidious Laure, when he heard a great brute of arms at the end of the street; which made him fear to be interrupted in his design, if they came not presently to open him the door, because these people being moved advanced towards him, it happened as he apprehended: the quarrellers killed one of the troop, who crying for confession made all the rest fly. Yet Fenise had not stirred from the door, always hoping to enter, but either by the servants too great haste to seek the key, or rather by the good fortune of Laure she could not find it. The clamours of this dying man near the place where Fenise was, brought thither incontinently the justice, which obliged him to abandon his place; for although he was innocent of this murder, he feared to be known the homicide of Don Jovan, whereof he bore witnesses with him, which were his hat and cloak. He was so slow in retiring himself that the justice perceived him when he begun to dislodge, and seeing no suspicious pers on ●eere the dead man but him, one of the archers, the most disposed, begun to run after him. Fenise perceiving himself to be pursued, employed all his force to save himself from the claws of this Arthur, but he being more agile than our cavalier, ob●●iged him to stay after a long course: so that Fenise ●eeing the wilfulness of this man returned with his sword in his hand to cut his hamstringes to hinder his course, which this companion seeing and wisely judging that a single man ought not to press another that was armed but to save himself, returned almost as fast as he came. At this instant Fenise found himself near a gate of the town which was yet open because it was not ten a clock. Then he resolved for many reasons to quit Valence by the favour of the night, but as he begun to execute this determination, he heard that they begun to ring the bell; designed to advertise the officers of Justice of the company, that there was a malefactor escaped; which was the custom of the country. To avoid being taken, he crossed the country it may be because he did not know the ways, and went about two leagues so tired that he was forced to yield to his weariness and repose himself, in expecting the day. He sat down at the root of a tree, his body being wearied with travel and his spirit perplexed with a thousand troublesome thoughts. But he had scarcely begun to take breath, when in the midst of the silence of the night, he heard the echoes of the barking of dogs whose voices beat against a Rock, whereby he knew that these dogs were a good way from him; which made him judge that there was some house where he might retire himself. He quitted his tree, went whither the barking of the dogs guided him, and arrived at the foot of a hill, upon the side whereof he saw a poor shepherd's  covered with bows: he entered into it, and found no body there, but only sheep skin● which served for a bed to the inhabitants. The extreme weariness and sleepiness which he had, obliged him to search some place to repose in, and not finding any more commodious than those skins, he lay down upon them. The shepherd's hosts of this , advertised by the barking of their dogs, that there was some wolf about their flocks, were gone out for to chase him, and by reason of their great haste had forgotten to cover their fire: so that presently after Fenise was a sleep, he was awakened by the sharp stink of a thick smoke, which begun to choke him, the fire having taken hold of levy fagotts. He sought an issue to get out of this danger, and saw himself besieged on one side with flames, and on the other barricadoed with great pieces of wood: then he made reflection upon the estate he was in, and judged that this was to punish the offences he had committed, and as he made this pious meditation, and assayed to make his way over these pieces of wood, the shepherds arrived at their little house, which they found all on fire, they presently endeavoured to quench it. Fenise having perceived them implored their aid, crying withal his power: these poor rustiques were greatly astonished to see a man so well clothed in the middle of so fearful a danger, not knowing how he came thither. In the end employing all their force and diligence, they got him miraculously out of this little hell without much hurt, but not without much fear; for as these good people removed the wood to help him out, they let in air which augmented the flames, wherewith the unfortunate Cavalier had like to have been devoured. Truly a man may be esteemed very unhappy, when those that would procure his good do him hurt, and that the ease they would give him turneth into the encreasment of his pains. Fenise having taken fresh air, thanked his benefactors, and to give some satisfaction to their curiosity to know how he came into this danger, he invented an adventure, and told them that he was come from Barcelone to go to Valence the lie was pardonable, since that in speaking the truth his life was in danger; (for he feared he was followed) that being a quarter of a League from this , wand'ring betwixt Dog and Wolf, he met with Thiefs that had dismounted him, that being escaped from them he had lost his way, and going he knew not whither, he had perceived their , and had retired himself thither, expecting the day. These simple persons believed what he said, and endeavoured to entertain him the best they could: They killed a Kid, and made him eat with them, afterwards they dressed him a lodge with branches to keep him from the humidity of the night; and thus Fenise expected the Sun's return.  
As soon as day appeared he would take leave of his hosts, and yet try the effects of his Fortune, forcing himself to overcome her; for he was resolved rather to tyre her with persecuting him, then to make it known to her, that he wanted patience to suffer. He then renewed his thanks, and prayed them to show him the way to Barcelone excusing himself that he was not able to stay longer with them, because of important affairs which already suffered, by his delay and ill fortune, which obliged him to return the same way he came. Although they opposed his desires with their prayers, they could not stay him any longer in this country place, for he knew well that a village life ought to be elected for ever, or avoided as soon as could be, for fear of their taking of some impression of malice, or clownish behaviour: Besides, hosts are masters of the house the first day, friends the second, and enemies the third: In the beginning they bring joy, in the middle pains, and at the end trouble.  
They sent a Shepherd with him to set him in the way he desired, and which he followed to Moraiedre: He there found a Traveller which came from Valence, of whom he demanded what news there, who told him, that there was found out of the town, a dead Cavalier, that the brute went that he had been slain by one of his friends, and that the Justices sought after him by horse and foot. This news made him change his course and draw towards Sarragoce, always going out of the highway, and in the night being favoured by the Moon's brightness, which was then towards the Full, about his third night's voyage, being clear and bright, passing by the side of a Wood, he heard a plaintive voice, which endeavoured to oblige some one to moderate his fury. Fenise judged by the delicateness of the voice, that it was a woman, which made him advance to secure her; as he came near the place where she was, her complaints ceased, and in another tone of voice, more bold, he heard her speak these words; Now infamous thy blood shall repair the affronts thou hast done me. And at the same time, the voice of a man replied; Ah traitoress! I never expected less from thy cruelty, and the vicious life I have led. Our Cavalier was ready to enter into the thick wood, where he heard them speak, but he was stayed by a man and a woman that came from thence; she proper and cuririously attired, he strongly set, and of a valorous resolution, who presented to his head the mouth of a Pistol; stand said he, return from whence thou cameft, or thou diest.  
Fenise so surprised and threatened, would not hazard himself, believing that there was nothing there that did concern him. He stayed, and saw these two without speaking word take two Mules that were tied to a tree, mount upon them, and ride fast away from the place where he was, and out of his sight. His curiosity and valour would not permit him to retire himself without looking what was become of him, who seemed by his sad words to testify his last sorrows: He entered by the same place the others came out of, and found a dead man upon the ground, wallowing in his blood. He was considering this poor man, and discoursing upon the miseries of this life, when he heard a little noise of men which approached him, but he had not time to know what they were, for as soon as they had perceived him, they fell upon him, bound his eyes, and called him traitor, homicide, and many other injurious names, and lead him tied and bound into a Village which was near that place. He endeavoured to justify his innocence by reasons, and to buy himself out of their hands by money; but whatsoever he could say or do, he could not moderate their violence. They put him loaden with irons into a stinking dungeon, and there left him until the next morning, abandoned to a thousand sad thoughts: The day being come, he that executed the office of Judge, but yet without judgement, came to interrogate him, and demand of him the confession of the crime he had committed. He asked him questions so impertinent, that he could scarcely answer to them, but in lifting up his eyebrows and shoulders. He knew nothing of what they questioned him, and the Judge was persuaded, that he who was purely ignorant, was maliciously wilful; so that he was ready to condemn him to death by the suffrage, as well of those that helped to take him, as by the opinion of him that gave him advice thereof, when the Innkeeper of the Village came to tell him that he believed that the prisoner he was about to condemn was innocent of the crime he was accused of, and being asked upon what reasons this opinion was grounded, he thu● answered; I remember that about eight or ten days ago, which is about the time you took this prisoner, that the Gentleman with whose death you accuse him, came to lodge at my house, with a fair woman, who said they came from Sarragoce; and at the same instant came also another Gentleman from Castille, whom I lodged in another part of the house, separate from them: He who accompanied this woman, being gone abroad (a I think) to walk about the Town, she came out of her chamber, and went to seek the castilian. 〈◊〉 who saw her go without being myself perceived, harkened curiously at the door, to know what she went to do, and I heard her hold him this discourse. Sir, having seen you arrive at this place, and presently considering your fashion and actions, I believed that so many advantages of nature could not willingly meet in a common man, and thereupon imagining that you are a Gentleman, I have taken the boldness to have recourse to you, to endeavour to save myself from the extreme peril that threatens me.  
Time, which presseth me, will not permit me here to recount the strange misfortunes of my life, nor of what Country I am, it shall suffice me now to tell you that I am called euphemy, and that a Cavalier who is here lodged with me, and now gone abroad, stole me from my house, under promise of Marriage. After having stayed some time with him, the ardour of his passion died, since which time he hath used me unworthily, and a thousand times witnessed an evil and unthankful nature, contrary to the faith he had sworn to me. I know not whither he carrieth me at this present; but the great love he bore me at the beginning, is changed into so cruel a hatred, that I do but expect the hour when he shall take away my life, when he shall find a place commodious for that purpose, as I may conjecture by his fearful threaten, and his speeches, which have been reported to me; so that fearing that his hatred and fury may transport him, I cast myself at your feet, humbly beseeching you to take me into your protection, since that it seems that Heaven hath miraculously brought you hither for this action of piety. This Lady spoke these words after so sweet a manner, that they were able to move compassion in the most barbarous soul; for my part, I was sensibly touched therewith. As soon as she had made known her intentions to this Cavalier, he promised to serve her in all things she should think him worthy; then they spoke softly together; I believing it was because I had stirred the latch of the door in approaching to hearken, I retired myself for fear of being surprised in so ill an action as to pry after the secrets of others, and she came out presently after to attend the return of her dangerous conductor. As soon as he came in, I took notice of his behaviour, and saw that with a fierce look he told this young Lady that he would be gone before Sunset, as he was. Scarcely were they out of my house, when the Gentleman to whom the Lady had spoken, and who had promised her assistance, followed them. And I fearing some unhappy accident, sent one of my servants after them to know which way they went, to the end to give you notice thereof to follow their steps, and prevent the evil that threatened so many people. This boy did as I had appointed him; but when he saw appearances so conformable to what I had heard, as he came to tell me what he had done, he met an Archer, to whom he told it. He going to seek his companions to take them along with him, came too late, the murder was committed; so that they have brought to you this unhappy prisoner, which I hold for innocent, for he was none of the company of those that lodged at my house. I durst not speak of what I have now told you, for fear I might thereby get some displeasure; but seeing the danger that threatneth a man whom I presume not culpable, I had rather hazard my repose, then see him suffer without deserving it. The Judge his Son came in upon this discourse, who confirmed what the Innkeeper had said, assuring that he had newly met upon the way of tortosa a man and a woman mounted upon Mules, with all the tokens and marks the Innkeeper had spoken of.  
The Judge informed of these circumstances, went to see the prisoner, whom he found less sorrowful than he left him, for delay made him hope the verity of his innocency would be discovered; he spoke to him with a countenance less severe than before, exhorting him, not as Superior, but friend, to declare to him how he came near the dead corpse in the wood, to the end he might help him to justify himself.  
Fenise, who then saw the Judge more reasonable than when he was brought before him, satisfied him with reasons so accompanied with truth and likelihood; that the Judge found them conformable to the relation of his Son, and the Innkeeper, he determined to set him at liberty; but how innocent soever he was found, he could not get out without leaving the blood of his purse. The talents of Pregnotories, Sergeants, and Gaolers, are too sharp, not to scratch a man, and it is a great grace when he escapes without being torn in pieces.  
Our Cavalier seeing himself at liberty, resolved to go into Italy, and quit his Country Spain, since that she used him as a Stepmother, to try if in changing the Land, he should not also change his fortune.  
For this purpose he took the way to Barclone, where he arrived without any other disgrace, but to suffer much by necessity upon the way, because of the great charges he had been at to purchase his innocence. He could well have found friends in this great Town who would have supplied his necessities, but he feared to be known; so that he chose rather to suffer amongst strangers, then to be beholding to his Countrymen. Then a Ship made sail towards that Country, he put himself in the service of an Italian Lord, near whom his good behaviour and wit had got him an access free enough. He embarked himself, and arrived happily at the Port of Gennes, and from thence to Naples, where was the abode and family of this Italian. This Cavalier had found so great merit in Fenise, that he loved passionately his conversation, one should never see him but with this Spaniard by his side, so that he did not treat him as a servant, but, as a friend. Ricard, so was this Lord called, had an urgent affair, which obliged him to go by night to seek the Viceroy of Naples, to confer thereof with him, because it was a business of State. He took Fenise with him to serve him for companion and safeguard. He entered into the lodgings of the Viceroy, and in the interim Fenise walked in the great and spacious rooms of the palace, in expecting his Master: And as curiosity is the daughter of idleness, Fenise not knowing how to pass the time, was descended into the Court of the Castle, and approaching to a little door, where he heard a noise of men's voices: he listened, and knew incontinent that this was the lodging of the slaves of the Viceroy, Turks and Barbarians, which spoke their natural Language, believing that no body heard them, because they judged that all was in bed, or that they knew not their langnage. But Fenise who knew it perfectly well, having learned it of his father's slave, as we have said, heard that they had conspired against the life of the Viceroy, and the most resolute of the Troop spoke thus to his companions. What my friends, shall we yet defer the execution of our vengeance? Have we lost our courages in losing our liberty? Shall we be willing to die, without selling our lives to those that would have them? You know well the resolution I have taken, to have reason of the Viceroy, whose people have killed my brother, and drowned my wife and ship, and for this effect, I have suffered myself to be made a captive to my enemies, to the end to find that in Peace which I could not in War, by reason of my want of power; you know also how willingly you offered yourselves to accompany me in this design, without being forced thereunto by persuasions. This being, if I suffered myself to be taken alive; and you come with me for this intention, to what purpose serve so many delays, but to certify our cowardliness? For my part, I know I must die, but I shall expire contented, in seeing myself satisfied? Courage then my dear friends, animate your just fury in exciting your cruelty; and since that our liberty is engaged for the end of this action, let us enterprise it boldly, if we perish therein, at the least it will be with much honour. Then all the Troop renewed their oaths of fiderlitie, protesting to enterprise valiantly all that he should ordain; and under this assurance he proceeded. I shall find an invention, said he, to hid myself to morrow in the Antichamber of the Viceroy, and you, when all shall be in the greatest silence, shall come and make a noise in the Hall, for to let me know when you are there. At the same instant you shall endeavour to amuse the Guards, whilst one of you open me the door with this double Key; for when I shall hear you, I will fall upon his person, and take away his life in a moment; then I will come to find you, and we will attempt together to force the door to get out; for though we should die there, we had better end so than otherwise. All his disciples answered, that they would assist him in all things, and that the recompense of the peril they were to hazard themselves in, consisted in his satisfaction. Thereupon they held their peace, and Fenise considering this bloody conspiration, judged that he ought to prevent the effect thereof, and that he was obliged to advertise the Lord against whom it was made thereof, esteeming it was rather the providence of heaven which had conducted him to the slaves door, than his curiosity. Without staying the coming of the Italian Lord his Master from entertaining the Viceroy, he went to the entry of the chamber, and made him be called, and succinctly instructed him with the furious design of the Infidels. The Cavalier entered again into the Viceroys chamber, and led Fenise with him, that he might hear him, and might look for present remedy for the danger that threatened him. At the beginning he doubted of the truth of this relation; but seeing that Ricard assured him of the honour and honesty of the author, he thanked him for his advertisement. Fenise, who had a subtle wit, made the Viceroy yet more beholden to him, teaching him an industry how to make these slaves feel the effect of the evil they had plotted. Sir, said he, your Excellency shall command that they bring you a criminal that hath deserved death, the which shall be armed to the neck in a coat of Mail, and put on one of your rich Sui●●s upon it, he shall be hazarded to the proof of my words, he shall be put into your chamber, and there left alone, where they say you often stay slumbering after meat: But to the end that this criminal may the better represent your person, it will be good to let him know, that he is so accommodated to entrap a slave, that would attempt against your life, assuring him that you will pardon him. This being done, occasion must be given to the slave who seemed to be the head, die most disposed, and the strongest of the conspirators (as fare as I have been able to observe by the cranny of the door) to hid himself where he will: Your Excellency shall in the interim be safe, and your guard shall be ready to fall, as well upon the executors of this detestable project, as upon the the complices, to the end that none of them may escape. So you shall triumph over these Bloodsuckers, and thank God for having preserved you, by my intermission; for the which I thank him of my part, and esteem myself most happy.  
The next morning all was executed as it had been propounded; the grooms of the chamber, and other servants of the Viceroy, went and came into the chamber where the criminal was disguised, with the same respect as if it had been their Master: having left them all alone, and he feigning to be asleep, the slave that was hidden came softly, and holding his breath for fear of being heard, fell upon the criminal, and gave him five or six blows with a knife upon the belly● (seeing him in habits Royal) but without offending him, because his coat of Mail guarded him: At the cries of the criminal, the Guards of the Viceroy came running; but as they presented the points of their Partisans to this slave to stay him; he seeing he was not succoured by his companions, thinking he had killed the Viceroy, he gave himself three stabs into his left side, whereof he died, before he could be carried out of the chamber, which he had stained with his infamous blood.  
The Viceroy beheld this spectacle with horror, being greatly astonished therewith. He embraced Fenise, and prayed him to take such part with him as he pleased, to the end that when time and occasion should be presented he might testify unto him, how much he esteemed his service he had rendered him. Ricard counselled him to accept the Viceroy's offer, assuring him that he was a magnanimous seigneur who knew well how to acknowledge the merits of brave men; and Fenise not being willing to neglect his good will,, determined to stay there, and expect what it would please fortune to do with him. In succession of time his capacity got him so familiar an access to the Viceroy, that he had no affair which the other had not particular knowledge of: so that he consulted with him of all things of importance. In the end to satisfy in some sort the obligation he had to him, he made him governor of the town of Tarente  
Fenise seeing himself honoured with this charge, made excuses of his insufficiency; yet he accepted it, for fear of offending the judgement of the Seigneur which had made choice of his prudence and fidelity. He departed by the commandment of the Viceroy to take possession of this administration in which he made appear, that he perfectly understood politic things, to the great contentment of the honourable men of the town, and glory of him that had installed him in this Government. He was accustomed to go out almost every night, accompanied only with two men, of whose valour and fidelity he was assured, to the end to observe and chastise the lurkers, to whom the obscurity seemed to give licence; one night entering into a street, making his ordinary round, he heard a door shut a far off, and advancing that way, he perceived by a house side, a representation of some thing which he could not discern by reason of the night, he approached with his company, and saw that it was a woman, almost all covered, with a great and rich lose garment, which hide her face: they would have discovered it but me resisted; and for to oblige her thereunto without violence, they told her that it was the governor of the town that commanded her: then this unknown person drew out a pistol and presented it to the head of Fenise in drawing the tricker, but by good fortune for the Governor it went not off, at the same instant this woman let fall her pistol and trading up her garment turned her legs into wings and fled almost as fast as a bird could do; one of these two men that accompanied Fenise ran after her, and the other conducted this too vigilant governor to his house; from thence he went to seek the officers of Justice, to break open this house and know who was therein lodged, to discover from whence came this attempt. They found there two women, the one fair and young, the other hideous and old, whom they took prisoners: this being done they followed him that was gone after her that would have killed the governor, wherein they used such diligence, that they led her with the others; as they beheld her more curiously With a candle, they knew that it was a man disguised like a woman, they left him there putting irons upon him, until the next day. The day being come, Fenise was advertised of what had been done by his commandment, and knowing that the person that would have killed him was a man, he was extremely astonished. He went into the prison and made him be brought before him. It was a man of a good countenance and habited after the Spanish fashion. Fenise having beheld him, remembered himselse, that he had before seen him, but it was a confused knowledge before he had asked him any question, the prisoner prayed him to be pleased that the company might withdraw, that he would tell him a business of importance, and which merited to be kept secret.  
The assistants being retired, Fenise asked him what subject he had to attempt against his life, what he was, and if that he bade heretofore seen him in Spain. For your first demand answered the prisoner you may already be informed, that I had no design against your person; besides upon another occasion I have served you as a defender, in a dangerous encounter. I am called Marcell that friend to Leonard which you found near to Valence, and with whom you fought to the great hazard of your life. But to inform you the better of what you ought to know and what will serve to justify me; I am obliged to make you a relation, if you please to give me audience, Fenise having let him know that he would willingly hear him, he thus continued.   

THE HISTORY OF THE TRAGIQVE LOVES OF MARCEL.  
IT this day just a year since I left my country and five since I knew the cause of my travels, in a woman more fair than rich, and more noble than wise. It was upon the sea shore near Valence, where I first saw this beauty, and where I became her slave. You shall dispense with me for telling you the means I used to win her, for fear of troubling you, & also because there is nothing rare therein, because I found no great difficulty. At the first she affected me, because I gave her presents; for it is long ago since liberality hath been the mother of love: she also would have given me all that she had; but I would never receive any thing but the recompense which my love merited. During the space of four years we had two children; but as all things in this world tire us in the end, yea vices themselves, I grew weary of her company, which distaste had more power over me then the pricks of my conscience. I resolved to separate myself from her impure and lascivious conversation, and for reasons seemed to me very just, I attempted to persuade her to consent to this design: but she thereupon grew in choler, and answered me, that I should take heed what I did, and never hereafter hold her such discourse, for if I passed further, she would use such extremities as should extremely scandalise all that should be spectators thereof, yea, and those that should but hear them recounted. Oh if all the World could but hear the success of this History, they would find by experience in my person, how dangerous it is to persevere in unlawful affections, and know to what excesses a woman corrupted doth abandon herself. I made no great matter of her threaten, believing that in time she would be appeased, and agree to my propositions, so that I quit her from that time; but as I fled her, she followed me, yet she lost her pains. The ablest woman finds herself a fool when she is once hated, and reduced to sue to a man; the more she travels, the less she profits; the more she loves, the less she is beloved; the more she testifies her passion, the less she obligeth, and it may be renders herself more odious. Seeing then my neglects, or rather my disdains, and the little power her love had over me, she invented the most horrible cruelty that is possible for a humane heart to commit. She entreated me by a Letter to come see her at the lest once, that she might resolve with more patience upon our divorce: I thought that I should have been too rigorous to have denied her this contentment; so that to satisfy her, I went one night to her, accompanied with two of my friends, who stayed for me at the door; I found her all alone in her chamber, with a look very desolate; she commanded her servant to retire, than she made me a studied discourse, where Art and Eloquence were so ingeniously joined, that it would have shaken a constancy weaker than mine. In the end seeing that her endeavours were too weak, she arose up and bade me good night; at the same time I took leave of her, and went down from her chamber; I was scarcely in the Court, when she appeared at the window of another chamber, and calling to me, set a torch in the window, holding a poniard in one hand, and in the other one of the children I had by her, to the which she gave two stabs in the breast, and cast it at my feet upon the pavement. And as I begun to cry out, full of horror and amazement, seeing the action of this Fury, she took the other child and served it as she had done the first, saying that she would not keep the images of a faithless and ungrateful person. Alas! the cruel Tigress had enticed them to her house by subtlety for this tragic end. I was at the charge to have them brought up in another place: I ran into the chamber again with my sword in my hand, but I found that she had shut the door. I set upon it to break it, and thereupon appeared an unknown man in arms, which she had hidden for to murder me; but at the noise we made, my friends came running in with a torch, and he seeing them approach, leapt out of a Balconia into the street for to save himself; my friends went down to follow him, and at the instant this imaged woman, all bloody, holding her poniard in her hand, who thinking that I was taken by her catchpole, came to serve him as Second, and plunge her dagger in my heart if she had been able; but my fury prevented her rage, and caused me to give her two great blows with my sword, wherewith I cast her to the ground, where she immediately died. This being done, I went after my friends, and found that they had catched and mortally wounded their man, who demanded for confession: In approaching to them, I saw him fall to the ground, and at the same time we perceived another, who knocked at a door, which obliged us to a sudden retreat, and the next day to leave the Town. At these words Fenise made reflection, and acknowledged that there are few murderers which are presently discovered; for he remembered himself that these were they that had fled for killing the man that fell dead before the door of Laure, when he knocked for to enter there the night that he had revenged himself of his treacherous friends Don Jovan.  
These follies were the cause that I left my Country continued Marcell. I took the way to Barcelone, where I stayed six months; from thence I came into this Realm of Naples, in a vessel full of men belonging to the Viceroy. Two days after my imbarkment, I perceived a woman in this company, fair in perfection: I informed myself who she was, and I was told that one of the principal Gentlemen of the Viceroy conducted her, which obliged me to retain myself, and hindered me from suing to her, for she begun to move my desires. We arrived happily at Naples, where this Gentleman hired a house, and then I begun to court her. During this time, she sent one night to seek me, and told me that I could hope nothing from her if I did not carry her out of Naples; that she would choose no place, but that I should carry her whither I would.  
This proportion joined to some other marks made me judge that she was of a changeable humour; but forasmuch as my love regarded nothing but to be satisfied, I disposed myself to obey her in what she would wish; I stole her from Naples the same night that she had spoken to me thereof, and in all the Towns we passed I found none so fair as she: I hired a house, and furnished it with all things necessary for a Family; but whatsoever familiarity I had with her, I could not possibly obtain the last satisfaction of my desires, she put me off from day to day, and when I thought I was arrived at the term, she found inventions to prolong it anew, yet without making my passion exceed the limits of respect. It happened at that time that the Viceroy gave you the charge of Governor of this Town, which you execute so worthily, to his honour, and your own glory, and the general satisfaction of all the people; and Laure having known your arrival, and seen your person, (so this charming beauty is called) she told me, that if I would do her a signal service, and oblige her to accord to me the accomplishment of my desires, I must take away your life, telling me that she mortally hated you, because you had slain one of her Brothers, and that she should never be at rest until she was revenged of you; this was without doubt the cause that moved her to leave Naples, having known that you was there. But I, who have always had a certain inclination to honour you, both seeing on one side that she would not consent to my wishes if I did not execute what she had ordained me, and also on the other side, that I could not enterprise nor commit so extreme a cowardice against your person, which I perfectly esteem and affect, we thus made our complot. That I should use all possible diligence to accomplish her revenge, until I could discharge a pistol upon you, and although you should not die thereby, she should accord unto me what I demanded, since that I had done my duty to execute her will. She accepted this bargain upon condition that she might see the pistol discharged, which was easy for her to do, since that you passed very often by her street and windows: our treaty being thus concluded, I disguised myself in a woman's garment, and she saw me in her presence charge my pistol with two good bullets, but in expecting you I drew out the two bullets, to the end that if it had taken fire, you might have received no damage, those that took up the pistol can verify what I say. Seeing you enter into the street, I gave a certain sign to give her advice thereof; at the instant I heard her open her window to see this tragic action, which she hoped for, and wherein she was deceived, since that it passed as you know. If this stratagem merit punishment, having been invented to enjoy a beauty passionately beloved, I deserve to be chastised with such punishment as you shall please to ordain, and therefore dispose of me as you please.  
Since Fenise had heard the name of Laure, his Spirit was in perpetual perplexity, knowing the extreme wickedness of this woman, whom he had dearly loved, and resolving to revenge himself of her; to the purpose he praised the invention wherewith Marcel had abused her to save his life. He embraced him, and thanked him for the affection he had testified to him, and which he had rendered him in an occasion so dangerous, and in the same time he commanded that his irons should be taken away, saying that since there was none offended but himself, he would pardon himself withal his heart.  
In the interim Laure who saw herself fall'n into Fenise his hands, would have enterprised a thousand times to have destroyed herself by poison, steel, or cord, if the old woman that was with her had not hindered her, telling her that she should net despair, and that the evil could not be so great as she could not remedy. Fenise on the other side beat his brains how to invent how he might revenge himself of this cruel without noise. He would not see her in her prison, for fear the violence of his anger should cause him to commit some public excess: a thing extreme ill in a governor and magistrate: but he resolved to convey her into some place where without witnesses he might examine her, & make her give account of her life. The better to accomplish his design, he delivered the old woman that accompanied her who seeing herself at liberty, gave new hopes to Laure to solicit and and obtain her deliverance at what price so ever it should be. After having tried all means possible, and seeing she advanced nothing, she addressed herself to a Magician, from whom she got a writing and a ring which she brought her assuring her, that if she took it from her finger when she found herself in any danger in speaking words contained in that paper which she gave her, she should surmount it. That she should not at all be afraid of what should be presented before her, that she should be assisted with succours more than humane, which should overcome the force of her adversary.  
Fenise impatient to execute his revengeful project, made ingeniously to be reported amongst those that knew of the imprisonment of Laure; that having found her innocent by the depositions of the delivered prisoner and Alcinoe her companion, he would also oblige her with the same favour. For this effect he sent for her one night by a man he confided in, who told her that he had charge from the governor to conduct her to a town four leagues from Tarente, where he was to leave her. She trusting in the charms which Alcinoe had given her, presently resolved to go with this man. He set her upon his horse behind him, and by night carried her to a Rendezvouse where Fenise was to meet him as he did, being there he commanded the conductor of Laure to leave him, and to return to Tarente. Laure seeing herself thus abused; and abandoned to the mercy of Fenise, whom the passion of vengeance furiously inflamed, began to take off her enchanted ring, and speak the words which were given her. Upon the instant before that Fenise could speak any word, he saw himself environed with a whirlwind and dust so thick that he could see nothing about him; presently he imagined that there was some magic in this accident: he armed himself with the sign of a christian, and incontinent, this obscurity was changed into lightness; which nevertheless frighted him more than the darkness, for he saw himself environed with fire, whose flames seemed to mount unto the clouds, and although he was in so terrible a danger he did not forbear to look about where Laure was, but the he saw her no more, not knowing whether the flames had devoured her, or some devil had carried her away in the whirlwind and dust. In fine having stayed some time to consider this prodigious vision, from whence he knew not how to escape, he he heard a fearful thunder in the air, and at the same instant the fire went out, and he found himself all alone without having suffered any hurt, but that of fear; heaven grew clear and the moon very bright, which gave him means to find his horse, he came on, he got on horse bacl and returned to Tarente, his mind filled with a thousand confusions, as well with what he had seen, as the doubt he was in that the devils had carried away Laure, to chastise her themselves, or if they were so much her friends, that they had ravished her to defend her from the effects of his vengeance. Being arrived at his house, he sent for Marcel, and told him all that had passed, whereupon they discoursed together some time; without being able to judge any thing certainly.  
At that time Marcel took leave of Fenise, with a thousand fair compliments and as many protestations of amity made of one side and of the other. He returned to Naples, and Fenise stayed yet a year in his government. Then he received a letter from the Viceroy which obliged him to go presently to him; and at his arrival he gave him a packet which he had received from Don Ambrosio his father, who finding himself old and feeble desired to see him yet once before he left this world. The Viceroy approving this paternal feeling and seeing the good nature of Fenise who was very willing to obey his father, permitted him to go for Spain upon condition he would return as soon as he could possible; promising also of his part to render him at his return more signal testimonies of the esteem he made of his merit. With this civil leave Fenise left Naples and went towards Rome, the town he desired to see before he returned into his country, judging that he might be accused of little curiosity to have left Italy, without seeing so marvelous a City.  
From thence he went to Florence; and continuing his voyage, he arrived at the foot of the Alps, where night took him fare from the place where he hoped to have lodged. And whether it was he knew not the way, or that Fortune would yet play with him, he lost himself, if one may call that a loss, which caused him to obtain the greatest treasure his spirit could have knowledge of. Besides the coming on of the night, he was accompanied with a violent tempest of thunder and lightning (which made him remember that wherein he was when he had design to be revenged of Laure.) After which heaven poured down such torrents of rain, which gliding down the Mountains, threatened our adventerour to force him into the precipices. In the end, after having suffered much pain and apprehension, he saw himself (by the light of a flash of lightning) near the mouth of a deep caverne; he approached it, yet fearing by saving himself from one danger, to cast himself into a greater, imagining that this place under ground, was the retreat of some Bears or Lions; he had no intention to enter therein, but only so fare as to guard himself from the rain that fell from the clouds: but he had scarcely begun to stay and take breath, when he perceived a light within the cave. Divers thoughts came into his mind, believing that he was fall'n into the hands of some Brigands, and after having consulted a little what he ought to do, he resolved to try his fortune in this occasion; he called two or three times, but there was nothing but the echo of his voice which answered him. Then animating his resolution, he tied his horse to a bush, and approaching to the light, he saw extended upon the ground a humane person, having a face yellow, lean, and wasted; in brief, so hideous, that she seemed to be death itself. Her body was covered with a coat of haircloth, rude, and pricking, her hair was yellow, and so long, that it was able to cover her whole body; her hands dry, and without flesh, being crossed upon her breast, embracing a Cross of a mean greatness, which leaned upon her mouth: finally, all her body was an original of death, and a lively image of a sharp penance. Our Cavalier beheld this body with a great deal of pity, and a great desire to have a more clear knowledge thereof. When Aurora begun to lend him her feeble light, the better to distinguish the particulars of this strange solitude, or rather this living Sepulchre, he saw upon a seat of the Rock, a bloody discipline, and a alarm bell, under which were written these words, Remember thy end; near the Lamp, from whence proceeded the light he had seen, was a Crucifix, accompanied with the images of the Virgin, and Saint John the wellbeloved Disciple, where these Letters were engraven, T. I. T. B. O. A. P. W. I. D. T. R. A. Fenise would have given them divers interpretations, but he could not find one that would come near the signification of what he saw. After he had a long time contemplated these sad objects, not daring to touch the body, for fear of profaning it. He judged that since there was fire maintained by oil, there must needs be some one about this cave, that had care to furnish, and entertain it with that element. He went out for to satisfy this desire, but he was scarcely out of the den, when the mouth thereof was suddenly shut by a great piece of stone which seemed to be miraculously fall'n from the Rock for that purpose, as he went by little and little from this cave, by the same paces he came which were printed in the slimy earth, he perceived (the day being then begun) a man of so strange a form, that he had doubted what creature he was, if his motion had not given him a more particular knowledge, having approached him, he saw an old man, tall, his hair white, and very long, his face lean, his beard reached unto his girdle, a patched coat that covered his body unto his knees, holding a Rozaire in one hand, and a little book in the other. Fenise called him, he lifted up his eyes (for yet he had not seen him) and stayed, astonished to see another man then himself, yet he was not froward nor fled, but approached softly to Fenise, and informed himself by what adventure he was come into a place so fare from the highways, than he carried him into his Cell made betwixt two Rocks, the door whereof was so little, that with great difficulty could a man enter therein, without going upon his knees, there was a window made by nature, by which he had so much light as was necessary, although he enjoyed almost none thereof; he made him sit down upon his bed, which was a long stone made like a Tomb, and after many discourses, this good penitent to satisfy the desires of the Cavalier recited unto him this prodigious history.   

THE HISTORY OF SOLITARY SIMEON.  
ABout threescore years ago, I was borne in the City of Capove, issued of rich Parents, and at the same time a Magistrate of the town of Luques had a son so like me, as if nature had form us in the same mould, his face, hair, voice, proportion, and gesture, did so much resemble mine, or mine so parallel his, that it was wonderful. In receiving Baptism, I was called Charles, and my parallel Albert; we grew up during our tender age in equality of manners, and also of constellations, which disposed of our persons in such sort, that having attained the age of twenty years, we met at Venice, where we grew acquainted one with another, or rather with ourselves. From this perfect resemblance, grew a strict amity, which was never broken, we dwelled together, we had but one table, and one bed.  
After a little time, there happened an affliction to me, which obliged me to absent myself, my mother died in the middle of her youth, and quit this sad habitation to go to heaven; I may so presume from her virtues and beauty; for there is no commendation so proper to express her worth, as to say she was fair, and also virtuous. Albert left Venice with me, and went to Luques. We conserved our affections by the means of Letters, which are the sweetest entertains of absent friends; but we were not absent one from another; for Albert never looked in his glass, nor I in mine, that he saw not me, and I likewise him. I was twenty two years old, when my Father followed my Mother, leaving me his benediction for heritage, with some small temporal goods which he possessed; he charged me with the fear of God, Charity towards the poor, and fidelity to my friends, and principally towards Albert, and gave up the ghost, in giving me this wholesome counsel; he was laid in the Sepulchre of his ancient predecessors: I succeeded him in his possessions, which I enjoyed not long in quiet, the malice and envy of some of my kindred, so rigorously persecuted me, that I was forced to spend the greatest part of my goods in suits and pettifogging, until I was forced to leave my country. I left it to seek repose elsewhere, and being followed with ten men, which I treated as my friends, I went towards Luques, where I thought to find my dear Albert, but he was gone to comfort me, having heard of the death of my father. This testimony of his affection made me swear not to return into my country until I had found him, to give him thanks, and renew our sored vows. He did the same having learned that I was gone to seek him; for it seemed our souls had consulted their designs together. In execution of this project, I visited many towns, where amongst others, I met with one of the ancient friends of my father, who having courteously received me, and kept me a long time at his house, he gave me his only daughter in marriage called Lesbie, with a great portion. A year and a half after I had married her, I was told that Albert was in France, in the Province now called Gascoigne, and that one might hear of him at Bourdeaux, or at Tholouse: This news awakened the design and desire I had to see him. I departed, accompanied with the same men that came with me from Capove, and as we approached near Tholouse, we met in a spacious field, near to the side of a wood, a little troop of men of equal number to ours, they stayed as soon as they had perceived us; we believing they were thiefs, whereof this country was full, and they having the same opinion of us; our ignorance made us betake ourselves to our arms, and came to the shock one against another, where there had been a bloody encounter, if Gobrias had not put himself into the middle. The greatest part of us, as well of the one side as of the other, had upon our heads (as they then commonly wore in France, and wherewith they serve themselves to this day) Bocquincans or Tapabors, which covers the most part of the face, so that we being mingled together, we could scarcely know one another: then fearing some great disorder amongst my men, I discovered my face, and put my Tapabor upon my shoulders and under my chin, to be the better known to my friends, and immediately one of my adversaries came to me in a respectful manner, Seigneur Albert, said he, it would be well for you to give the sign of retreat, that our party may separate themselves from our enemies, and that we may discern them, we shall be thereby the stronger. At the same time he heard the sign given whereof he spoke, and seeing that I was not Albert, as he believed, and that his companions being reunited, came to set upon us again, he turned himself towards them, being already cenfused; What do you mean by this Gentlemen, said he, are you mad or blind, that you will needs offend our Chief? Do you not see Seigneur Albert? At that name they all stayed, and I having heard him name Albert twice, I cried out, peace, peace, friends, friends. Thereupon Albert, who heard my voice, abandoned his Tapabor, and his Sword, and came to cast himself about my neck, and I knowing him, we remained so fast locked together, that there had like to have come mischief thereby; for our horses who did not know one the other, began to rage's one against the other, but our friends prevented it; for our joys were so excessive, that we took no heed thereof, we lighted and entertained one another alone, with our most particular secrets; afterwards with extreme joy of both fides, we entered into Tholouse. I made a little stay with him, but the affection I bore to my wife obliged me to leave him, with promise to see him again very shortly. Albert habited himself afer the French fashion, to testify the esteem he had of that nation, which gave him access into the house of a great Lord of that Realm, which bore the title of a Duke, and who ordinarily dwelled at Tholouse, the eminent qualities of Albert, who was expert in all exercises fit for a Gentleman, besides his wit and sweet disposition (which made him welcome into all companies whatsoever) got so great familiarity with this Duke, that after he knew his wit, he would have him always in his company, and at his table. He had a daughter perfectly fair, as well of body as mind: And as the conversation with Ladies is much more free in France then in Italy, Albert had the honour to be often in her company with other companions, where they reciprocally knew one another's merits, in such manner that within a little time they thought well one of another. Albert was willing to take the occasion which seemed to invite him to a good fortune, he begun to court this young Lady, and testify to her that he had vowed his liberty to her service, sometimes by Letters, sometimes by verses, which he recited in singing and playing upon the Lute in the very presence of her Father; for amongst the other fair parts wherewith he was accomplished, he possessed these two graces from the Muses of Poetry and Music, to which I also took pleasure to addict myself, to the end that our likeness might be the more perfect. In the end he explicated himself so intelligibly, and played his part so well, that he insinuated himself into her favour, so far as she permitted him one night to come see her in her chamber. A great impudence in a Maid of such condition, which ought to be so much the more careful to keep herself having more to lose then one of less quality; but there is no retinue nor limits to a woman that suffers herself to be blinded with that foolish passion. There was in this Duke's Court a certain Gasconian Cavalier, called Arnalt, which had obtained Albert's affection, and the place of confident which he before had, and knew so well how to play his part, that he got out of Albert's heart all his secrets, whose freedom presumed he would never betray him; but it happened to him as it doth ordinarily to those who discover themselves too freely unto others whom they have not proved. Albert did not only content himself to declare unto him his affections, but he made use of him as a Scout, when he went to receive the greatest favours from Matilda (so was the Duke's daughter called) thus was he punished by this confident, so injudiciously chosen. This perfidious friend, envious of Albert's contentment, excited by the inclination he had to do mischief, and to publish the secrets which were revealed unto him, being one day near the Duke, who praised the merits of Albert, audaciously interrupted him, saying, that he was sorry his bounty should be so abused by a treacherous stranger, which violated the honour of his Lineage, and who by his pernicious cunning had abused his daughter Matilda. The Duke, who held Albert for a virtuous Gentleman, & his daughter to be too wise and retained to fall into such an inconvenience, and on the other side considering Arnalts reputation, from whom every one fled as from a wicked spirit, told him he was rash and insolent, to use such impudent language; thereupon Albert arrived, to whom the Duke told this prodigious accusation of Arnalt, wherewith he was extremely surprised. Yet without testifying exteriorly the motion of his heart, he answered to the Duke, that he should think he did wrong to the esteem and honour which he had testified to him, if he should go about to excuse the crime wherewith this traitor accused him, but that if he pleased to permit him to have satisfaction from him, his innocence should be known, to the confusion of his accuser. The Duke seeing Albert speak with so much resolution, answered him, that he never believed it, and that the offence was his: But that since he took part in the injury, and would take vengeance for it, he praised his generosity, and granted him the combat for the next day. Immediately after that Albert had obtained this permission, and that he was retired to prepare himself for the duel, I arrived at Tholouse, and sent to let him know thereof; he came to me, and after our reciprocal embracements, he told me the trouble wherein traitor Arnalt had engaged him, and that he did a little doubt of the success, not for want of valour, but because the truth was not of his side, so he was to fight against double arms. Having heard all these circumstances, my heart was seized with extreme sadness, considering that his sensuality had caused him to slain the House of this Signior with so great infamy. I would willingly have shown him his fault, but when things are passed, they are without remedy. In conclusion, after having long time reasoned and consulted together, I found no course so expedient as that I should undertake the combat for him, and convert the verity which Arnalt maintained into a lie, justifying that I had never violated the honour of Matilda, and that by force of Arms. But Albert too courageous, and who felt his conscience charged with this crime, would never permit me to expose my life for his expiation: We contested some time thereupon, but seeing that I could not make him condescend to my proposition, I bethought myself of another course, and counselled him to persuade his enemy to take a second; but he answered me as he had before done, that he would not engage others innocency with his sin, that he was resolved to hazard his fortune alone; that he would put himself in good state before he entered the Lists, and would ask God pardon for his crime; and if it pleased him to give him the Victory over the traitor, in whom he had too lightly confided, he would content himself in making him ask his life; and at the worst of the ill chance fell upon him, he hoped that his blood would wash away his iniquity, and that he should die with extreme repentance for having done so infamous an injury to a Seigneur that dearly loved him, and to whom he was so beholding. In saying this, he left me, and went to the place assigned, with tears in mine eyes, and sorrow in my heart, seeing him go to maintain so ill a quarrel. Two hours after I heard the public rumour of the success of this combat, where I learned that the two enemies had no advantage the one over the other, since that either of them had by his death received the just punishment of his offence; Arnalt of his treason, and Albert for violating the virginity of Matilda; they pierced one an others bodies with their lances, and fell upon the place, where they expired almost at the same instant to the great astonishment of the spectators. You may better imagine the displeasure which seized my heart, than I can represent it unto you by words, I will only tell you that I was so sensible thereof that I fell sick, which hindered me from rendering him the last honours which we own to our friends, and that I should have rendered to him as to the half of myself, But as one misfortune serves ordinarily for Harbinger to another, being recovered and returned to my house, I found it altogether desolate and in disorder by the decease of her who was the joy of my family. At my arrival I wanted not much of committing some outrage upon my person, through despair, seeing myself deprived of two such precious things, as I had not the like in the world, my friend and wife, I had a son by her, who hindered me from this fury: after I had constituted him heir and universal possessor of the estate fortune had given me, and not being willing to survive after the death of Albert and Lesbie; I resolved to enterre myself alive in this desert, where I have made my retreat this twenty years, enjoying most sweet repose, and proving all the felicities that I have heretofore heard or read of solitude. Since which time I have always lived alone, but about a year ago, going amongst the rocks to search herbs and roots to sustain this poor life, when the night begun to banish the light, I perceived amongst the broom a person whose feeble and plaintiff voice invited me to secure her. I presently advanced and saw a woman of good fashion who as soon as she had perceived me, asked me if I was not called Simeon, for inchanging my life and manners, I also changed my name. Yes said I in approaching to her, for my age being deprived of feelings of sensuality, and where concupiscential heats were extinct, pemitted me to come to her with out any scruple, and to bring her where we now are: and then demanding of her what she was, she made me this discourse  
I am a poor unfortunate and unhappy sinner, whose life heaven hath conserved to oblige me to dispose of it in these deserts. I was borne at Toledo in Spain, where I was called Laure. It would be too troublesome and offensive to your holiness to declare to you the particulars how I have spent my young years, I shall only tell you, that I have run divers hazards in flying from the terror that I had of a Cavalier who was offended with me, as in effect he had cause. Thinking to shun the danger which I feared, I cast myself therein. It is but four days a gone since I was in the presence of the Cavalier, in quality of Judge, for a crime which I had committed, having attempted to make him be treacherously slain. His countenance made me apprehend his rigour, his feeling my punishment, and his injury his vengeance. Then esteeming it impossible to satisfy him by my submissions; I had recourse to an Enchantress, to deliver me out of his hands, thinking it impossible to escape by any other means. This Cavalier having caused me to be brought into his company in a secret place, for to taken away my life with this proper hands, I served myself with the charms which the Enchantress had given me, which made me see fearful things, & without knowing which way I went, whether by earth, air or the sea I found myself in Florence. But although I saw myself free from him that threatened me, I was nevertheless a slave to my proper conscience which tortured me without ceasing. I made a general confession & from that hour, I found myself touched with a holy repentance of my faults, and with an acknowledgement of my proper miseries. Desiring then to vow the rest of my days to God, by the means of a severe penance, I have renounced the world and all the vanities thereof, and I do not know by what instinct I have been conducted, into this sharp and remote place, where I desire to imprison my body to deliver my soul, which I fear is in great danger to be destined to the prisons of perpetual darkness. In finishing this last word, sobs and tears came into her mouth and eyes, in so great abundance that it was impossible for her to speak more. I was astonished to see so great contrition, in so young a heart, and an election of a life so different from that I imagined she had before lead. My good friend said I to her, your proposition is very wholesome, but I fear your delicateness and the ordinary inconstancy of your sex will hinder you from the execution thereof. At the least having begun you will find this change too rigorous to support. Yet if you have a good courage, God will fortify you, and by little and little you will have cause to give him thanks, for the holy inspirations he hath given you. Alas my daughter, a soul is happy that is disposed for death before she is called to it! It is the general port of all humans, but many have there suffered shipwreck for want of the guide which leadeth to safety, which is called penance. If you then will save yourself, and march under his conduct: I offer you all that you shall judge I can contribute to this design, hoping by the grace & assistance of God that you will attain life everlasting. She answered me that since I would use so much charity towards her, she would be governed by my counsel, and would resign me all her will. After which she chose that dwelling, which you say you have seen, where she leads an Angelical life. I could tell you the particulars thereof, but worldly persons as you are, take no great pleasure in such entertains, and also that person being but indifferent to you, it would be but a trouble to you. You shall only know that three days since, she rendered her soul to God, which I believe he hath received to recompense the sharp penance which she hath undergone. She hath left me here envious of her virtues, happy if I can well imitate them. But I being with her when she expired; I have graven thirteen letters which you saw in the stone, for it was not spacious enough to put more, they signify according to my sense; This is the body of a Phoenix which is dead to rise again.  
For as much as the death of just persons is not called their death but birth; for as the humane creature in his birth leaveth the sesible habitation of his mother's womb, to come and live abroad; so the souls of them which leave this world in the grace of God, leave the corruptible prisons of their bodies, to enjoy eternal felicity. Sir I have made you this troublesome discourse, as well to satisfy your desire as to recreate my memory with things past; for you know it is a singular pleasure to old people to recount the adventures of their youths.  
Since that venerable Simeon had pronounced the name of Laure, Fenise had much to do to forbear breaking the thread of his discourse, to let him know how much he was interessed in this history. He sighed at every word Simeon stayed, & complained of his hard fortune, having so passionately loved this maid by whom he had been so ingratefully used. But in the end considering that God had called her to him by this salutary penance, he was extremely sorry he had not known her in this cell, to have rendered her his last honours, in bedewing her feet with his tears, and ask her pardon for the design which he had to kill her, and by that means deprive her of the saving of her soul.  
When Simeon left speaking, Feanise begun to weep, and for to explicate from whence proceeded this tenderness, he told him the extraction of Laure, and the course of her life until the time she had retired herself into that solitude, at which the solitary much wondered. Our Cavalier desiring to continue his voyage, thanked Simeon for the entertainment he had given him; he prayed him to guide him to the foot of the rock where the cave was, that served for tomb to this happy penitent, to take again his horse which he had left there, to the which the good man accorded, and more, conducted him into a foot way which led him into his way where having embraced and taken their last leaves, Simeon hastily returned into his Cell repenting that he had employed too much time in discoursing upon worldly vanities.   
The end of the second Book   

THE THIRD BOOK OF FENISE.  
He that is once embarked upon the Sea, and arrives happily to Shore, is much bounden to his fortune; and he confideth in her too much, that putteth himself a second time upon that fearful element. For my part, I think there is no greater proof of courage, then to enterprise to pass a Gulf without necessity, or without being thereunto incited by covetousness. Fortune bears sovereign sway over four things, which are, Marriages, great men's Favourites, Wars, and Navigations. But according to the opinion of many, the last is the most perilous: And from thence I draw this consequence, That if courage be so necessary for the War, as being a peril much to be feared; the same courage is yet more requisite in Navigation; forasmuch as the danger there is altogether evident, having but the thickness of a plank betwixt life and death. An author of reputation reported, that a certain Consul of Rome, durst never hazard himself upon the sea, and being demanded from whence proceeded this fear, he answered, The vessel is a fool, since that she is always in motion, the Navigator is a fool, being never of the same opinion, the sea is a fool since that she is never in repose, and the air is a fool, since that it runneth perpetually: And supposing that all these things are true, and that being upon the earth we fly from a fool, why would you have me trust my life amongst four fools, being upon the sea? This argument deserveth to be known, but not imitated; for if the Consul is esteemed prudent, he may also be accused of cowardliness.  
Our Cavalier was not of the sect of this Philosopher, nor of his opinion, the desire he had to advance in his journey, made him resolve to embark himself at the port of Livorne, and again trust his life to Neptune, he there found a French Merchants ship, where he was welcome, and civilly lodged; for although it be hard to be so upon the sea, yet money findeth all commodities. Fenise was then well enough furnished therewith, as well by the liberality of the Viceroy of Naples, as the lawful gain he had made of the government of Tarente. And the opinion which those of the ship had that he was rich, obliged them to bear him a certain respect, as he gave them cause, for having laid in good store of provision in the vessel, he parted it liberally amongst the company, by which means he gained the hearts and affections of the Mariners and Patrons. All those in the vessel being familiar together, endeavoured to pass the troubles of navigation with the sweet witty divertisements they could devise. The Merchants were men of subtle understanding, and besides there were in this company two young Italians, good humanists, and well knowing in the Laws, with whom Fenise grew familiar, finding their conversations very pleasant. Every one wakened his wit to find matter to entertain himself. One amongst them propounded, that he would maintain that Denis the Tyrant of Sicily was the most humane and courteous of all the Gentiles of his time; another, that he would maintain, that there was neither ingratitude nor ingrateful men in the World, and Fenise offered to answer to all the problems and questions the others could make him. The two Italians begun to discourse upon the subjects propounded, where they brought such apparent and wel-grounded reasons, that although they were sophistical and false, they were capable to persuade those who did not truly understand them, but they used them rather to show the subtlety of their wits, then to have them believed. After they invited Fenise to satisfy them in what he had promised; and as he was going to make them admire those fair curiosities he had reaped by reading, the Pilot stayed him, in crying to the Sailors, that they should fold up the sails; for they should immediately have a great storm. At this fearful advertisement every one quit the attention of these profane discourses, and begun to look to his conscience, and to be troubled with the apprehension of shipwreck. They entered into the Gulf of Leon, when Heaven begun to be troubled with a double obscurity, that of the night, and that of the storm, wherein the winds were so violent, that they seemed to move the sea unto the very bottom. In a little time the tempest became so furious, that all in the ship were fearful; every one cried out with a good heart for divine assistance, and demanded pardon for his faults. The Mariners themselves were so amazed, that they knew not their compass, nor what to do or command, the cords, masts, and sails were broken one from another; sometimes the waves lifted up the ship to the clouds, and then again cast it down into the most profound deeps: It thundered and hailed, and the air produced lightning, which served them but for to see things fearful. In the end, after having suffered a long storm, a wave cast them against a Rock, where the ship was split, and then some were buried quick in the waves, and others ran to the last remedy of Shipwreck, endeavouring to prolong their lives as long as they could, floating upon tables and packs: Fenise seized upon a square chest, wherein was his equipage, and so abandoned himself to divine mercy, and to the misericord of the waves. Heaven favourable to his vows, would not let him serve for food to the sea Monsters, but had care to conduct him; for after having felt all the evils that fear could cause, about break of day, he saw himself near to shore, which yet he could not come to, because the waves seemed to sport with him, sometimes they made him almost to touch the land, and then cast him much further off then he was before: In the end, having again invoked divine assistance, the necessity wherein he was taught him to make use of his arms in stead of oars, he employed the last vigour of his courage, and took port betwixt two Rocks, kissing the ground, and giving God thanks for the miracle he had done in delivering him, and from this instant he accounted himself a second time borne into the world. The sea grew calm, and the day by little and little grew light, and let him see the pitiful relics of the Ship, and the spoils of his companions, which floated upon the waters. He looked about him of all sides to see if he could perceive the top of some Tower, or Steeple of some Town or Village, that he might go thither to demand some sustenance, but he saw nothing that could give him any hope of relief; he had wherewithal to recompense those that should assist him; for in this extreme misfortune he had resting a good sum of money, which he had in gold about him and in his coffer, but at this time it was unserviceable unto him. After he had consulted what he ought to do, he left the sea shore, sometimes turning back, as well to lament his companions who were drowned, as for fear the sea should yet follow him to make him suffer the same shipwreck; he advanced into a field, not knowing whither he went, nor in what land he was; he heard, in approaching to a grove, a man lamenting, which spoke Spanish; then joy glided into his heart, thinking that he was arrived upon the coast of Spain, and coming near him by little and little, he heard him speak these words, Oh great God the only recourse of afflicted souls, hast thou resolved to abandon me, amongst these barbarians for to finish here my days, without enjoying that dear consolation administered unto those who are born under the knowledge of thy Laws, and the true Religion? Lord thy will be done, if it be thy pleasure, I must resolve to suffer it. Ending these last words, he gave a great sigh, and held his peace, because he had perceived our unfortunate Cavalier. Fenise, who at first imagined himself to be in Spain his own country, now learning the contrary by these words, converted his joy into sadness, presuming that he was upon the coast of Barbary; he approached to him that complained, and thus saluted him; My friend, if you find alleadgement to your troubles, in complaining to these trees, do not leave to continue, behold here another infortunate, which may keep you company, and help you to weep, if you please, since that it seems by your language that we are of the same country: For me I am a Spaniard and native of Madrid. Oh God, answered the other, who was a venerable old man, a strange encounter! And in embracing him with tears in his eyes; what misfortune, continued he, or what divine power is it that hath conducted you hither? Then Fenise asked him in what country he was, and then told him of his Shipwreck, the most succinctly that he could; for he was so weak that he could scarcely speak. After he prayed him to give him something to eat, and presently Fredrikc, so was this old man called, prayed Fenise to expect him amongst the trees, and went in diligence to fetch him bread and drink made of Lemmons and Sugar, wherewith Fenise refreshed himself. Having thus taken acquaintance one of the other, our Cavalier prayed Fredric to tell him by what accident he came there, and was obliged to pass the rest of his life in that barbarous region, as his complaints had let him understand. The old man desiring to satisfy the curiosity of Fenise, made him this discourse.  

THE HISTORY OF FREDERICK.  
The illustrious town where the Court of Spain is ordinarily kept, is the place where I saw my first day, as well as you, if you be of Madrid, as you say; I am of noble lineage; yet I never saw my father, he being taken from me by a dangerous sickness before I could have knowledge of him. He left me his only heir and under the conduct of a mother, who neglected too much to keep in my youth, to which my riches gave me more liberty than was reasonable. Amongst these liberties I made such debauches, as I will not recount unto you; having been so excessive, that to compare that time with the life I lead now, I have cause to esteem myself happy, although I am fare from it, and besides it would augment your weariness by a troublesome attention. In this age my heart begun to be warmed by love, by the perfections of a Gentlewoman of a great family, whose carriage was civility itself, and whose beauty was the object which made all admire its author. It Would be superfluous to tell you the arts, inventions, and subtleties I used to declare unto her my passion, and the pains I took to find a favourable occasion to persuade her to compassionate my torments; you may imagine them in representing unto yourself that she was the most recluse of her time. You shall only know, that whatsoever services or testimonies of fidelity I could render her for the space of two years, it was impossible for me to hear one word from her mouth, to obtain one favour from her hands, or to perceive any hopeful sign. In the end she was overcome by my perseverance, and not by her negligence; but who could resist so long a pursuit without being an insensible rock? the strongest places and Towers inaccessible, have been gained rather by industry then valour: Troy, Numance, and Carthage, serve us for examples thereof; what marvel was it then that adorable Persinde could always resist against the art, force, and courage wherewith I daily assaulted her? She was under the guard of a Mother, the most sharp and austere woman that was in all Madrid: Persinde feared so much, that she never looked upon her without trembling. Nevertheless by succession of time, and increasing of obstacles, our loves grew so great, that I obtained what I desired. I saw Persinde in her chamber by the intermission of certain women her Governors, who often betray the honours of Maids, in making show to defend them. In one word, our private meetings were so familiar, that within a few days Persinde possessed a living gage of our affections. Love, that had made her commit this fault, inspired her with industry to hid it, and means to remedy it when it should be time. She approached her term, when her Father had a fancy to send her to Toledo to see one of her Cousins which she had there, and to recreate herself with the famous sports which the Citizens then made. Persinde discovered to her her secret as to her most confident friend, and after that, Agarise (so was her Cousin called) had testified the displeasure she had for this accident; She promised to assist her in all she could possible to avid the scandal; the season being come of reaping that fruit into her hands, which had taken maturity in her womb, Agarise writ to the Father and Mother of Persinde, praying them to be pleased that she might yet keep her Cousin with her, and that her leave might be prolonged for some time, which they easily granted. I rendered myself Burgois of Toledo the day of her arrival, to the end to serve her, and contribute all that should depend upon me to her assistance when there should be occasion; and for this cause I saw her almost every night in the presence of her Cousin. But one day, when Persinde begun to be set upon with ordinary pains, her Cousin and she determined to leave the Town, and go to the Farms near Toledo, which are called Cigarales, where Agarise had acquainted a woman with this affair, who was prepared to receive them when they should come. But they were scarcely got half way when violent pain seized poor Persinde. Then Agarise feigning another pressing necessity, left the Coach with her, and retiring themselves amongst some bushes which were happily there, Persinde was delivered of a Son, they wrapped him in linens, and covered him with a little mantle of silk and gold which they had brought for that purpose, rather taking care to make haste, then to trim up the Infant. This being done, Persinde drew out of her pocket a paper, and having diligently blotted out all that was written therein, shewrit these few words.  
Christian, this Infant demands Baptism, have a care thereof, and let him be called Lovis. She hung this note about his neck with a silk ribbon, and abandoned him to celestial mercy: They returned speedily to their Coach, and without going further, returned to Toledo, feigning that Persinde was sick by the way: There was a great space of time betwixt their return and the hour I was accustomed to visit them, which was the cause of a misfortune, which maketh me yet sigh. The night being come, I went to make mine ordinary visit, where I learned this news, and the place where I should find this poor little innocent. I departed in diligence, and sought on all sides with a torch; I visited the inside and outside of every bush that was in the place whither they had directed me, but without finding any thing. Fear seized my soul at the beginning, fearing that he was devoured by some wild beast, and yet seeing no blood spilt, nor any of the  of the child, I imagined that some charicable person, having heard it cry, had taken it away to give it a better lodging. After I had passed almost the whole night in visiting three or four times the same place, to the end I might not be accused of negligence, I returned to Toledo, with intention to report otherwise to Persinde, for fear of killing her with grief. The time of my going to see her being come, I made her believe that I had put the infant in a place of security, and that she needed not further think thereof. Not long after, Persinde having recovered her colour, returned to Madrid, with letters from Agarise her Cousin, which thanked her Uncle and Aunt for the honour she had received from them in the visit of her Cousin, let them know that she had been a little sick, so that all this affair was happily overpassed, if the absence of the child had not afflicted us.  
My Mother deceased incontinently after this success, and by her loss I remained in full liberty to match where I thought good. I then determined to demand Persinde in marriage; but having acquainted her therewith, she counselled me not to do it, for fear I should thereby receive some discontentment, seeing that her Mother pretended to make her religious: And although she knew not that Persindes inclinations stood that way, yet she used all possible diligence to make her condescend to her will. A great tyranny, to make a person by constraint take a condition against heart.  
Having had certain advice of the intention of thy rigorous mother, and being assured of the affections of? Persinde, I stole her away one night, an carried her to Cartagene, a town situate upon the sea shore, and where the greatest part of my estate was, I stayed with her there some years, we leading a very happy life. Heaven gave me another child, which was a daughter fair as an Angel, she had all the features of her mother, but yet more sweet and charming, I loved her above all things in the world, I could not be a moment without seeing her, and nothing pleased me so much as her innocence. She was about three years old when on a summer's evening I had a great desire to walk with her in a little place which I had near the town of Cartagene, and stay there until the next day at the same hour; but I departed too late, for the night took me by the way. I held this little minion in mine arms, having taken her from her nurse which carried her, and without thinking thereof I was environed with a troop of pirates, who took her with my heart out of mine arms, presently I found myself in a vessel companion to many slaves, deprived of my dear child and servants who were with me, and presently after I found myself a captive in Algiers which you see now. Consider in what port you are arrived, and whether you had not better to have served for food to sea monsters, then to have fall'n into the hands of these earthly ones. I have languished fourteen years in this misery, where it seems my life hath taken another nature, since that I die not to avoid so many displeasures. I have many times written to Madrid, and sent my wife word of my sad disafter, but what ever diligence I have used, I could never receive an answer. I do not excuse her of negligence, nor ill nature, I have too much proof of her goodness and virtue, but I think my letters never went so far, I fear that the King of Algiers, who will not put my daughter nor me in the number of slaves to be ransomed, hath stayed them, for these infidels are most faithful to their sovereign; so that I know not now if I have yet any body for me, nor whether my wife be in heaven or earth.  
My daughter I have told you of, is called Magdelene; but the barbarian that ravished her from me, hath taken from her that name, and called her Cirife, at the end of six years of our captivity, the pirate seeing day by day the beauty of this little one increase, made her serve him as an instrument to get the favour of Selin, King of Algiers, he gave her to him to dispose of her as he thought good. The Prince was much pleased with this present, and to testify the esteem he had thereof, he promised to gratify him upon all occasions; when she was taken out of mine arms her clothes were not so poor, but that they rendered her considerable, and testified that she was issued from christians of great quality, which obliged the King to esteem her as much as if she had been his proper child. He hath brought her up like a queen, in effect I know he pretends to qualify her with that greatness and marry her. I apprehend, that that will be executed sooner than is thought of, and so there may be a soul lost, and a desolation for mine old age.  
The only good that I have resting amongst so many displeasures, is that I see her sometimes, by a window of a Tower, where by good fortune, the King hath lodged her, the half of the circum ference of this tower comes from the King's lodgings against the gardens of the Citizens; having betwixt them but a little lane of five or six paces over, full of briers and bushes. With diligent searching some means to approach this prison, I have found a breach in a wall, which seemeth to have been made for me by some angel: by it I go to the foot of the tower, and chiding myself in the thorns and grass, I speak sometimes to Magdalene, whilst she maketh a show to recreate herself in taking the air by the window, and by the view of the gardens; In the little time we enjoy this common contentment, I speak to her of no other thing, but that she remember she is a christian, that she take heed of violating her faith, whatsoever is offered her or said to her, and that she hope that God who never leaveth his, will receive our vows, and one day give us the recompense of our travels and constancy. See dear country man the subject of my afflictions and misery, which you may help me to lament as you told me at your arrival, if peradventure you have not particulars, which oblige you to employ your tears for yourself; and if it was nothing but the loss you have made of your liberty, you will not want cause of tears Alas! there is so long a death prepared for you amongst chains and travels, that I assure myself that you will be sorry you were not buried in the waters as your companions, which I esteem much happier than yourself. Hitherto Fenise had hearkened to the afflictions of others, but from that moment he begun to fear those that threatened him: but when the courage is firm, there is no adversity that can astonish a man, nor danger capable to terrify him. Fenise having a while considered the finistre predictions of Frederick, and studied by what industry he might prevent these future disgraces, he made him this discourse. In harkening to the recital you have made me of your misfortunes, I have conceived in my mind what may remedy you, and it may be you will judge so, when I have communicated it unto you. But to oblige you the more to second my intentions, I will tell you news of the child you went to search amongst the bushes near Toledo. He was named Lovis as his mother desired, I have not only known him, but that knowledge is passed into an affection, he is one of my intimate friends. I have left him at Valence at a gentleman's house a friend of mine, called Leonard, in whose house he hath recounted to me his whole life, whose beginning answers to all the particulars you have told me thereof. A labourer found him in the place where you went to seek him, he had care to bring him up, and entertain him until his decease; and in making him inheritor of all his estate, he gave him a little purse, wherein was the paper that you saw his mother hung about his neck, which he yet carefully keepeth. So great a transport of joy seized the heart of Frederick, that he wanted not much of falling at the feet of Fenise, when when he told this news: But after a little silence, it is possible said he, that my stars begin to be weary with persecuting me, what will heaven give me this contentment in my last days and assure me that my child liveth? Alas! if I could persuade myself as you say, I should no longer esteem myself unhappy, although I be a slave and charged with chains. Yet you give me so many marks thereof and your manner of speaking hath so much appearance of truth, that I willingly believe it. For that which concerneth the proposition you make to execute a design which may produce some happy success; do not doubt my fidelity; I engage to you my faith to expose myself to all sorts of hazards, to serve you until the loss of my life if there be need, assuring myself, that before any thing is undertaken you will judge that it is all that a slave can offer. Do not believe answered Fenise, that I make so little esteem thereof, as only to hazard it; on the contrary the industry I have advised myself of, tends only to its conservation and safety. I can speak the Arabic language in perfection, having learned it of a slave of my fathers, by a secret providence of heaven, who foresaw this present necessity. With that I have some money which is saved with me from the passed shipwreck. I put it into my bosom when I entered into the ship at Livorne. My design is, to buy by your means a turkish habit, and cloth myself therein: I will say that I am Citizen of Fez, and will buy you of your master; when you shall be out of your captivity you shall also change your clothes, and by the favour of the Arabic language, we will save ourselves as well as we can possibly. By this means you shall be delivered from the miseries wherein you are, you will give a new life to your wife, and see him for whom you both have shed so many tears. I believe answered Frederick, that heaven hath expressly preserved you from shipwreck, to deliver me from the miseries wherein I am, this encounter could not have been without the sovereign appointment of God. There are many circumstances which may help the execution of your project: this day they solemnize the nativity of my master, who is a Bacha, the second person after the King, and his favourite; and because of this feast, we slaves have more liberty then upon other days, every one maketh holiday, and is at rest, therefore you have found me here aside complaining my disaster, besides because I belong to this seignieur; we have a little more privilege than other captives, the guards that are at the gates take not so much heed of us, so that all these things being considered I hope to satisfy you in what you desire to our common contentment. Fenise at the same time gave him as much money as was necessary for that purpose, & in the mean while he remained hidden in an old great hollow oak, which it seemed years had prepared for this act of hospitality. Frederick was not long in returning with such habits as he judged most proper for their design, being discharged of his packet, Fenise told him that he had left a box upon the sea shore, wherein was a part of his equipage, and upon the which he had saved himself, and having consulted together what was to be done, they went to seek it, bringing it with much pain, and burying it in a remarkable place, to have recourse to it if there should be occasion. Then without losing time Fenise took the turban and other Turkish habits, put a Scimitar by his side, and disguised himself so properly, that the most subtle Turk would have taken him for his natural countryman. The same day a Merchante ship a Jew landed at Algiers laden with great riches, as Velvets, Scarlets, Spanish clothes, and other rare Merchandises of Tire and Cairo, whither they make great traffic, this happened well for Fenise; for at the hour that it arrived, which was towards the evening, he and Frederick approached near the gates of the Town, and our Cavalier mingled himself amongst the new comers, and was taken by the Citizens for a Merchant, and by the Merchants for one of the town, so that he entered freely without any one taking notice of him. Frederick served him for guide and Harbinger, finding him lodging for his money where Fredrick left him, having before resolved together, that Fenise should go the next day to his Master to treat about his ransom.  
Fenise slept but very little that night, his mind was busied with a thousand several thoughts, one while he considered the danger which he had run and from which he had been saved, to fall into the hands of Barbarians; another while he thought upon the discourse Frederick had made him, imagining that his daughter must needs be rarely fair, since that the King of Algiers pretended to marry her, and as he occupied his spirit in this entertain, he grew extremely desirous to see this beauty when he should have delivered the father: The day being come, he informed himself where the Bacha's house was, where Frederick was slave, he was conducted thither, and being arrived at the gate, he courteously demanded to speak to him, saying he would buy one of his slaves. He was brought before the Bacha, and when they were face to face, they were both mute, and without motion as statues. Fenise knew that this was his father's slave which had taught him the Arabic Language, which was called Mahomet Zeran, and respected as Bacha, and the greatest favourite of the King of Algiers. Fenise was then sorry that he had presented himself in person to treat upon the liberty of Frederick having means to have done it otherwise, but dissembling the extreme confusion he was in, for fear of being discovered, he broke silence, and propounded what he demanded. Before Mahomet answered him, he asked him what he was, of what country, and how he was called, feigning to believe he was a a Turk, although he knew him well enough. Fenise being reassured, boldly answered him in the African language, that he was a Turk of an illustrious family and native of Fez, and come to seek Sanctuary near him, flying the cruelty of two brothers, which would have killed him, and that he was called Gomhor; Mahomet admired the wit and carriage of Fenise, who disguised the truth with such art; but without playing further with him, he came to him and told him in his ear in Spanish, whatsoever cause hath brought you hither, you are welcome; in saying so, he took him by the hand, and made him sit down by him, a favour which he did to no body. Fenise saw by his proceeding and language, that he knew him: And Mahomet continuing to speak, Fenise, said he, you little esteem the sincerity of my heart, since you use so much art to disguise a truth so evident. I am sorry you hinder me so long from perfectly enjoying the joy I have to see you in a place where I have power to serve you, and testify by some occasion the sensible obligations I have to you and your father, whom I shall respect all my life, as mine own, saying so he cast himself, upon Fenise his neck and straightly embraced him. Our Cavalier touched with these singular proofs of the good nature of Mahomet, was constrained to declare himself, and yield to his courtesy, he bowed himself very low, and embraced his knees, and by the most civil compliments his good wit could invent, made him understand, that respect had engaged him to this dissimulation, and as he was about to explicate his reasons, Mahomet made a sign with his eye, that he should hold his peace. All that saw their actions, knew not what to think thereof, principally that Mahomet should show himself so affable towards this man, who was accustomed to be severe towards them. The Bacha would not that they should know more, commanded them to retire, and leave them alone, as they did, and then Fenise having rendered him a thousand testimonies of his joy, briefly told him all the history of his life, since he had left Toledo until this happy encounter. Mahomet full of astonishment and admiration with the recital of these strange misfortunes, promised to employ all his wealth and credit for his contentment, and to furnish him with means to return into Spain, upon the first occasion that should be offered; after having learned that Frederick the slave he demanded to buy, was father to one of his intimate friends, he gave him to him to do with him what he pleased; then he invited him to lodge in his house, but Fenise excused himself therefrom, judging that that might hinder the effect of his intentions; yet he could not defend himself from staying dinner with him. They begun to spread upon the ground a great piece of Tapestry, upon which they dined. Then he was obliged to receive the visit of a Turk of quality who came to speak to him about an affair of importance, which caused Fenise to retire himself into an Antichamber, to let them devise more freely together. He walked there, and thanked God that Mahomet had treated him so humanely; and as he was upon these thoughts, he saw a little door open into the Antichamber where he was, out of which came a fair Moor, richly habited, who seemed to be melancholic. Our Cavalier saluted her with an action full of respect and humility. The Moor made him a reverence after the mode of Spain, whereat Fenise was astonished, but yet more, when she approached him, saying in the Spanish tongue.   

THE CONTINVANCE OF THE HISTORY OF euphemy.  
CAvalier, said she, with a deep sigh, I have heard all the recital of the history you told to Mahomet, wherein by having named Leonard, a high Cavalier of the town of Valence, you have moved my memory to discourse upon the misfortunes of my life, and obliged my reason to acknowledge the faults which my impudence hath made me commit, from whence I suffer a most rigorous unquietness of spirit. I am the unfortunate euphemy, I am that unhappy cause of the troubles of Leonard my brother, having preferred my sensual pleasures before the duties of my birth and quality: I will not cloak my miscarriages, though love might render them excusable; on the contrary, I desire to make you a naked description thereof, yet as short as I can possible, whilst the absence of Mahomet giveth me leisure, that by mine own shame, I may in your person render some satisfaction to my brother, since you say you are his friend.  
I loved passionately a Cavalier, which you have known from the mouth of my brother, as your discourses have given me cause to presume; but so passionately that I left my house to follow him, he carried me to Madrid (I ought to hid my face, in telling you the infamous commerce that that man made me do) where he rendered me a public Courtesan, not so much to satisfy his necessity, as the vengeance he would take of my brother in my person and honour. From Madrid, for to save ourselves from my brother who had discovered us, we went to Saragoce, where we stayed some months, and there I had the reputation of the most fair and famous Courtesan of that age, and as such a one was visited by the greatest Gallants of the town. During our stay there, Don Pedro, which you know to be the name of the cruel enemy of my brother, and my renown, made friendship with a young Gentleman, whose merits were were cherished and esteemed by a most noble Lady of an excellent wit and beauty, and the better to express her perfections, I pray you consider, that they must needs be rare, since that being of my sex, and the original of my misfortunes, I am yet constrained to praise her.  
Alexander, so was this Cavalier called which she loved, discovered part of the secrets of his soul, and amongst others that of his flame to Don Pedro his new friend. I may well say he gave him part of his fire, since that he rendered him taken with the love of Cerinthe, she was called so, nevertheless durst not enterprise to declare unto her his feeling for fear Alexander should be offended therewith; and to avoid this inconvenience, he betook himself to art, in all occasion wherein I was spoke of in the presence of Alexander, Don Pedro spoke marvels of me, as if I had been the most accomplished with beauty, wit, and merit, to the end to move him to love me, and oblige him to break that mutual band of amity that was vowed betwixt them, and thereby to imitate him and make Cerinthe his mistress also to change. In a word he conducted his design so cunningly, that it took as he imagined, Alexander courted me, Don Pedro seemed discontent therewith, and to revenge himself, got access near Cerinthe, which he found easy enough at the beginning: there is no woman that is offended with being beloved, and she that doth not disapprove of the service of a lover, beginneth already to love. Alexander taken with this new affection, scarcely stirred from my lodging, neglecting by this means to visit Cerinthe, and she knowing his inconstancy rendered him the like, making love with Don Pedro By succession of time Alexander's father was advertised of his debauches, he was told that his son entertained a courtesan a stranger which cost him much. And forasmuch as old people are covetous, and forget the follies of their youths, he could not excuse this of his sons. He employed his credit so well, that the Justice commanded me to quit the town in a certain time. I seeing myself constrained to obey, gave notice thereof to Don Pedro; but instead of being sorry for it, he seemed to be very well pleased with this news, because my absence gave him more liberty to pass his time with Cerinthe, so that one day he told me that I might go whither I would, and that he could not then leave Sarragose. I seeing myself so unworthily used by this perfidious, and considering the resolution which he took to abandon me, being distasted with my person, I imagined he loved else where: in this opinion I used such exact diligence; that I discovered the cause of his disdain, as I have now told you. I did not leave to require his assistance in this necessity, adding embracements to words, and representing unto him the obligations which he had to me, yea employing some times, threats; for my jealousy and his contempt carried me to furious extremities. In the end either by reasons or fear I made him resolve to quit Sarragoce, and leave Cerinthe, but with design to revenge himself cruelly of my persecutions, as I have since learned. He deferred our departure as long as he could possible, and stayed until the very last day the Justice had given me for that effect. In the end we took together the way to Valence, he did nothing but curse by the way, there came nothing out of his mouth but insolences, injuries, and threaten; he drew his poniard and presented it unto me, than he put it again into the scabbard; in brief he so affrighted me, that every moment I believed he was about to open my breast and pull out my heart, he seemed to be so full of fury & rage: being arrived at our first Inn, it was impossible for me to take any food. I went to bed weeping bitterly for my faults, and endeavouring to invent some way to deliver myself from this traitor: the next morning he pressed me to be gone on our voyage, and I, fearing he would put me to some tragic end, feigned to be sick, and prayed him to defer it one day, which he granted at the solicitation of the host and hostess who had pity of me seeing me weep, but it was not without many curses. Heaven which desires not always the loss of those that offend it, which lets them live to amend and repent, yea and assists them to oblige them the more to acknowledge it in the midst of their extreme necessities, conducted Mahomet to the same Inn where we were. And because he arrived at a time when Don Pedro was gone to walk by the side of a little river, which was near thereunto, not being able to stay in my company, I had leisure to consider his fashion and behaviour: I saw he had a good countenance that he was of a proportion big and strong; and joining to these circumstances that he was well mounted, and very well habited, I took him for a gentleman or a man of honour; In this thought without knowing him to be an infidel and no christian, I went to ask his assistance. I succinctly told him my history, and the extreme trouble I was in, beseeching him, since that he went the same way, to follow us unto the first town, without losing sight of us to hinder that my perfidious conductor might not do me some displeasure. Mahomet having considered my language & countenance, had his heart touched with compassion as he hath since told me and promised me very courteously, to satisfy all that I could desire from his service; with this assurance, I told Don Pedro that I was ready to departed when he would, he took me at my word, and about two hours before sun setting, we left this lodging following on our way. At the beginning of the night we arrived at the entry of a wood; then I looked behind me and perceived Mahomet, who had not yet appeared, which a little moderated my fear. We were scarcely in this wood when I knew that we had left the great way, and that we were in a little path, we are out of the way cried I to Don Pedro, no, no, answered he, follow me; it is the nearest for our journey. I who was in perpetual distrust, believed these words were equivocal, and that the nearest which he meant, was to find the issue of my life. I turned myself yet once, and saw my defender follow us, I took courage, and a little time after Son Pedro turned towards me. You are in the right said he; I believe we are out of the way, and since that there is no way more here, let us light. What need is there of that said I. Away, away we must, replied he with a tone extraordinary. I will take here the last vengeance of the hatred I bear to thy blood and person which hath rendered itself too odious to mine eyes by contradicting my pleasures; saying so, he took his poiniard in his hand, and attempted to strike me down from the Mule whereupon I was mounted; seeing the rage of this action, and the glittering of the iron, wherewith be would have sacrificed me to his felony; I cried out, Ah cruel, what thinkest thou to do? and endeavoured to stay his arm, or at least to slacken the blow. At the same time I was succoured by valiant Mahomet, who came running with his sword in his hand, crying, Traitor what wilt thou do? Mine enemy seeing the sudden apparition of this protector, knew not if it was not an angel in the figure of a man; yet he drew his sword to defend his life, but the other assailed him so furiously, that his endeavours were unprofitable, he made him give up his soul in the same place where he thought to have murdered me. At the echo of these clamours and my lament, an unknown man came in, it may be with design to secure those he heard complain, but Mahomet took a pistol which was at, his saddle bow, prayed this unknown to pass no further, and to suffer him to go without further informing himself of any thing. I am much deceived if you be not he of whom I speak, the discourse which I heard you hold to Mahomet giveth me a great presumption thereof. We took our horses, and went towards the town of Tortose, I saw I ought my life to this Cavalier, and for that reason it seemed to me I was obliged to follow him whither he would lead me; without knowing either his nation or religion; I took him for a Spaniard, because he spoke the language perfectly well. Coming near Tortose, he told me, that he did not think it expedient for us to go thither, for fear of some ill success, because of the homicide committed; so that turning out of the right way, he carried me to a Bourge near to the sea shore, and in a place called the neck of Balagover, where are little arms, where the Moors hid themselves, and from whence they make sallies and courses upon the Christian countries. In fine, whether he had notice to be there, or that fortune conducted him thither, he found a Galley of Pirates, whereof the chief came with great respect to speak to him, and upon the instant they prepared themselves to return. Then Mahomet let me know, that he intended to carry me along with him, he declared unto me his country, and promised the sweetest entertainment that I could hope for amongst my Kindred. I seeing myself obliged to satisfy him either by fair means or constraint, I heaved up my shoulders, and testified to him a silent consentment, though it was not without shedding many tears, and making many sobs, considering to what misfortune my faults would engage me, as amongst others to go finish the rest of my days amongst barbarian infidels, far from the exercise of the christian faith, being altogether abandoned to the mercy of Mahomet, I esteemed myself as his slave; but although he was of a barbarous nation, yet he was of so courteous a nature, that he used me with all the respect he could possibly render to a Lady to whom he was inferior. He saw well that I had cause to weep and afflict myself as I did, therefore he used no violence, to make me forget my disgraces, he only attempted to divert my troubles, with much modesty and discretion. In brief considering the extreme misery whereunto my stars had reduced me, I might esteem myself very happy; for there are disasters, which ought to be esteemed as felicities, when one knoweth they have been in danger to suffer greater. One day during our navigation, he related unto me the nobleness of his extraction, the courses which he had made upon the Christians, that in the same Galley where we were he had been made a slave, and sold to a Spanish Gentleman of the town of Madrid, who finding himself beholden to him for great services he had done him in a certain quarrel, and that seeing he would not turn Christian, had given him his liberty with money and a good horse, for to return into his country, having before disguised him like a Spaniard to the end he might pass more securely, and not be known what he was. And this was the cause that I demanded his assistance, believing him by his habits to be a Gentleman of our nation. Having much lamented my misfortunes. I must resolve to have patience, and refer all to divine mercy, in comforting myself that I am fall'n into the hands of a man of excellent behaviour which he learned in Castille. We arrived in this town, where being received by his father with open arms, and cherished by the King, he is now his only favourite. I hold the same place towards him, he loveth me with passion, as being as he saith, the only pleasure of his life; he hath never spoken to me to change my religion, for he believeth that aught to come voluntarily without any force or restraint. The contentments which he giveth me, and the care he hath to see me served, are so great, that there are but two things which trouble me, the profession of my faith, and my dear Country, without that there is no felicity in the world that can be entire. The reception he hath made of you accompanied with so many honours testify, that he esteemeth you much. I have often heard him speak of you before your arrival, as of a Gentleman most accomplished; therefore you may assure yourself of his amity, and believe that he will employ himself in all occasions where you shall have need of his credit, and also for your return into Spain when you shall desire it. If I could but follow you, and that you would but carry me thither with you, I assure myself you would have cause to commend the acknowledgement my brother and I should make you for it. Fenise was about to answer her, but upon the instant a servant came to advertise them, that the Bacha their Lord was coming thither, which obliged him to attend another occasion. Eusemie retired into her chamber by the same door she came, which she shut as before; and leaving Fenise in great admiration, made him know in the end, that Mahomet and she had been the cause of the pains which he had suffered, having been like to have lost his life shamefully, being accused for kill Don Pedro, and kept prisoner for that subject. Mahomet excused himself to Fenise for having left him so long alone; Fenise replied by those civilities which are ordinarily used in such compliments, than they continued to speak of times passed, wherein they both took great pleasure. Thereupon they came to tell them that dinner was ready, where the stranger was magnificently treated after the fashion of the country. In the interim Mahomet made a lodging to be prepared for him in the town, sending all things necessary for a household. The evening being come, he was carried to take possession of his house, whereof he remained absolute master.  
Here one may find occasion to marvel at the inconstancy of things, and the strange mutation of fortune. It is not Long since Fenise was tossed by the fury of contrary winds, and at the present he hath the wind of favour in poape, not long since he was tumbled and tormented in a ship, and now he is courteously received in a Palace, yesterday he was naked, and to day clothed with rich ornaments, yesterday in a storm at sea, and to day honoured upon earth, yesterday fearing to be made a slave, and to day possessing the graces and favours of a prince. He had an extreme passion to see the daughter of Frederick, which we call Magdalene, as well because it was her proper name, as also being more pleasant to the ear then that of Caitiff, which they had given her at Algiers.  
Fenise was become amorous of her, without seeing her, but by the simple relation of her beauties, which he had heard her Father make. He died with impatience to attain to this pleasant vision. But forasmuch as the passions of love are wounds that reach to the very bottom of the breast, they must have a long time to be cured, so that to think to arrive at the end without passing by the middle, is either a thing impossible, or very dangerous, so that his discretion was willing to give leisure to time to work with her, without using violence.  
Whilst Fenise renewed his acquaintance with the Bacha Mahomet, and received his favours. Frederick ravished with joy for the happy encounter he had made, and the fair hopes which were given him, would carry news thereof to his daughter, that she might partake in his contentment, but he found the breach of the wall made up, and his passage stopped; the owner of this Garden had repaired this breach it may be for his proper commodity, or it may be because he had seen him pass that way. Seeing himself thus deprived of this little good that rested to him, he begun again to lament his misfortunes, and with tears in his eyes, came to seek his consolation in the wits of generous Fenise. His dwelling was not now where he had lodged, he passessed the house which Mahomet had made to be accommodated for him. He received him there with the most courteous welcome that was possible, and told him that he had obtained his liberty, having let Mahomet know that he was father to one of his most intimate friends, and from that hour he retained him to dwell with him, in expecting some means for the deliverance of his daughter Magdelene. Frederick embraced him anew with a thousand thanks, for the affection which he had testified to him: But Fenise observed the sadness which he had in his countenance, and asked him the cause thereof. Then Frederick declared unto him that his last consolation was taken from him, the place being stopped by which he passed to see his daughter.  
Fenise having known the cause of his displeasure, led him into a Gallery which was on the back side of his lodging from whence one might see the King's house on that side the tower was, which was over against it, and in showing it to him, he said, If that be the tower whereof you have spoken to me, you need not so much despair as you do. Alas, it is the same answered Frederick, but the distance from hence thither, is too great to speak to her, if we had occasion to give her advice of any thing, yet we are happy replied Fenise, that we are no further from it, but that from the one place to the other we may easily know and distinguish the features of the face; let us then content ourselves with what it pleaseth heaven to give us, perhaps it will furnish us with some invention from whence we may draw more benefit than we can imagine. Frederick suffered himself to be persuaded by this consolation, and determined to keep watch in this Gallery, looking every moment if Magdelene or the Christian slave which served her should come to the window. But because she had there presented herself three or four times, without seeing Frederick, because of the accident that was happened, she made no more account to appear there, judging that there was some great impediment happened to their felicity.  
This opinion was the cause that Frederick passed a whole week in measuring the length of this Gallery, and counting the minutes of every day. In the end as he was deploring his misery, being out of all hope of ever seeing again his dear daughter; for the last time he cast his eyes upon the window, and saw Magdelene and her slave, who looked upon him contesting together whether it was he or no; for the unknown house and gallery where he was, put them in this doubt. Then Frederick lifting up his eyes to heaven in action of thankfulness, and extending his arms towards her, leaning over the parapet made himself known, and put them out of doubt. He let them understand as well as he could by his actions why he could come no more to the foot of the Tower, and that from thenceforwards he might see her from the place where he was, because he dwelled there, and was no longer slave; then after a little time, Magdalene made to him the sign of farewell until the next day, and shut her window, for fear of abusing the favours of fortune, or that Selin should perceive them.  
Fenise at that time stirred not from Mahomet, courting and entertaining his affections, and when the night obliged him to retreat, Frederick made him the recital of what he had seen, and that he hoped to have the same contentment the next day: That he thought it would not be amiss to make Magdalen believe that he was her Brother of whom he had many times spoken to her, to the end she might present herself more freely. Our Cavalier found this no ill invention, because it suited to his desires; he told him he should absolutely dispose of his person and life: But dear Frederick (said he) when a man enterpriseth an affair, difficult, dangerous, and serious, he ought to foresee all the inconveniences imaginable, which may hinder his design, for to attempt to surmount them, and come to a happy success. We must then go here with great wariness, and take exact heed to ourselves in the beginning, for fear of failing in the end. You said (as I remember) that Magdalene is so recluse, and retired, that no one seethe her but the King, and from thence I fear that she will not show herself, seeing me with you, imagining that I am some Turk; but to warrant us from this danger, I think it fit to change my habits, I have found an invention to get the box brought hither, which we buried at the entry of the forest, where I found you after my shipwreck; I will take an habit that is therein, and then when Magdalen shall see me clothed after the Spanish fashion, you may the better persuade her that I am her Brother. Frederick approved of his opinion, and Fenise shown him a suit made for the Country, of grey cloth, covered with plate lace of gold and silver, and complete with all other furniture. The day being come, so impatiently expected by these two friends. Frederick set himself upon the watch in the Gallery, and not long after saw the window open, and Magdalen and her slave appear. He made her a sign to stay, and went to fetch Fenise to let him see his daughter; he came, he saw, and was overcome; the imagination which he had form to himself of the beauties of Magdalen was very imperfect in comparison of the original which he admired. During his ravishment, Magdalen carefully considered him, astonished with this new fashion of habit, and with the grace and good countenance which he had, yet without knowing who he was.  
Her spirit was much troubled to explicate this Aenigma; but in the end, her father forced her by embracements and other signs to comprehend that it was her Brother. She understood it, and then her admiration was converted into confusion, endeavouring to divine by what means he was come into that place, for she had learned of her Father the History of his birth and loss. Fenise made all the gesture? of respect and love he could devise, to testify to her that he was not only her Brother, but her slave and defender; she rendered him those reverences and salutations which courtesy obliged her to, testifying with her arms, that she embraced him with her heart. Whilst Magdelen and Fenise entertained themselves with these mute compliments, Erimene attentively considered our Cavalier, this was the name that this Christian slave had taken to disguise her own; by much regarding him, she thought she knew him, and well remembering herself, she remembered his name, and the place where she had seen him. She judged, that since they endeavoured to give an impression to her Mistress that this was her Brother, it was not necessary to declare to her what she knew, for fear of breaking some favourable project to the contentment of her Father, she resolved to keep silence, and see to what end would come all these confusions. In the interim it was not permitted them to stay any longer in the presence one of another. Erimene careful to manage occasion, made sign to Frederick and Fenise to retire, yet advising the old man to be at the same place two hours after, and when the Sun was near setting, Magdelen made them the sign of adieu, and shut her window, leaving our Cavalier more captive than all the slaves in Barbary, having sacrificed to her at the very instant of his first regard, his liberty, heart, and life, resolved to hazard all to deliver her from the subjection wherein she was. He returned to change his habits, and take those of a Turk to go visit Mahomet. He was very careful to conserve his good will, and observe him in every thing, that he might make use of his credit if there should be occasion thereof, although he had declared nothing to him of his design, nor of the intelligence he had with Frederick, for fear his zeal to serve the King might surmount the amity which he bore him. He knew so well how to make use of the favours of this Moor that he made him believe he took no care to return into his Country; and that after so many misfortunes received there, he would renounce it, and was determined to stay there with him as long as he should please. Mahomet finding himself obliged to his affection, would testify the esteem that he made thereof, by installing him in the charge of Subbacha, (an office of justice, as one may say Corrector, or Judge of politic Government) which Fenise willingly accepted, seeing it was an excellent means to bring about his design, seeing that this charge made him be feared of the people, esteemed by the Nobles, and generally beloved and respected of all. The night begun to extend itself upon the face of the Earth, when venerable Frederick rendered himself in the gallery, and saw immediately the window open, and Erimene appear, holding a bow and arrow, which she shot against a wall, a little further off then the place where he was, making a sign to him that he should take it up. Erimene having seen him do what she desired, departed, and shut the window. Frederick perceived that this arrow had a little paper rolled about the end thereof, instead of a pile, and industriously accommodated; he judged that there was some mystery hidden; he untied it, and saw that it was a letter directed to him; he presently went to find Fenise to let him read the same with him, not being willing to have a secret which he should not have full knowledge of. They opened it, and saw that it was the Castalian tongue, containing this discourse.  
THE LETTER OF MAGDELENE TO FREDERICK HER FATHER.  
Sir,  
THe signs and gestures which you have lately made to me, letting me understand that the Gentleman which accompanied you is my Brother, which was lost from his birth, hath left my spirit in a Labyrinth so confused, that it is impossible to get out thereof without a more clear and ample explication. I cannot comprehend how he should be come into this barbarous Country with the habits he weareth, and be in liberty, without having renounced Christianity, which I cannot believe he hath done; for being issued from your blood, he could not have committed so cowardly a perfidiousness, and so infamous an impiety; and although my just curiosity might merit some satisfaction, yet I do not hope that you can content it: I am now held so short, that it is scarcely permitted me to leave the presence of Selin, his passion and jealousy is so violent, that he yet doubteth if I be where he findeth me; this is it that hath hindered me so long time from seeing you, and will yet deprive me of that contentment. But I have found an invention whereby we may entertain one another, by writing and letters, during the silence and obscurity of the night.  
The King hath certain birds of the bigness of Blackbirds, which sleep all the day, I know not whether it be by custom which is given them, or their proper nature; but it seems that Heaven hath so ordained it for our consolation particular. In the night they fly, and feed by candlelight, whither hunger makes them go as they see it. He hath given me one of them, which shall be our faithful messenger, if you please, this is the industry we will use. The night being come, you shall be in your Gallery, with a candle in a clear lantern, and when I shall see that light, I will put out mine in my chamber, and let go the bird; he shall have a letter delicately fastened under one of his wings, he will fly straight to you, and perch near your candle; you will easily take him, for he is very tame; than you may untie his letter, and having seen it, if you please, answer it; you may fasten it in the same manner you shall see, then take away your candle, and I will light mine, and come to the window, and presently the bird will return to me. To proceed therein more securely, and avoid danger, which may incur, if our art should be discovered; let us make proof thereof with a little piece of white paper, in stead of a letter. Make yourself ready the night after this, and be in the Gallery about twelve a clock. God prosper happily the invention to his honour and glory.  
Frederick and Fenise embraced one another, seeing so clear an appearance of a power to communicate and resolve together some great enterprise for their common liberty, Magdelene being courageous, and Erimene very ingenious. It was she that had written this Letter; for although the other knew the Castalian language, having learned it of Erimene, she was not so expert as to write in that stile; they praised and admired this favourable invention, as in truth they had cause, it being extreme rare, secret, and subtle; but there is nothing that a woman will not find out to surmount the obstacles which oppose her contentment: In vain do fathers and husbands shut their doors, and wall up their windows, and guard their walls, to avoid scandal, and to take from their Daughters and Wives the intelligence they might have with their Lovers: the more they are shut up, the more leisure is given them to exercise their wits, and to invent means to overcome what hinders them; there is no Tower high enough, nor locks, nor doors, nor walls strong enough to conserve their honours, if they do not guard them themselves.  
Fenise glad to see so fair a way laid open to his hopes, prepared an answer to this sweet letter, that the messenger might not stay that came to fetch it. The time assigned to Frederick being come, he rendered himself at the place assigned, with a candle in a lantern, for fear the wind of the birds wings should put it out, or that she might offend herself, and without attending long, he heard a sign given at the window of the Tower, and at the same instant the angelical bird came, and parched upon his arm, which he presented to her for that effect near the candle. Fenise and he took her safely, findding the white paper, and untying it, put their answer in the place thereof; then hiding their light, according to the instructions received, they saw that of the the tower to appear, and let go this faithful and able confident, in the twinkling of an eye she rendered herself betwixt the hands of her mistress, who gave her the most sweet and amiable nourishment of her face, accompanied with a thousand amorous kisses, paid her the portage of the letter she brought. The hand wherein it was written was known by Erimene; confirming her in the opinion she had that this Caviler which Frederick would have pass for the brother of Magdelene was a gentleman of Toledo, to whom she had often times spoken, and seen verses of his writing, yet she did not declare her thought to Magdelene, who impatient to know what this letter contained prayed Erimene to read it.  
frederick's ANSWER TO HIS DAUGHTER  
MY daughter, it must be some Angelical spirit that hath given you this invention, it is so excellent that I cannot enough praise it, I scarcely complain any longer my disaster, having this admirable manner of comforting myself with you; but we must go discreetly to work to prevail in our deliverance, from the tyranny wherein we are. I hope it by the aid of God and the courage of your brother, who taketh great care for our common contentment. A strange adventure hath brought him hither, to take part of our miseries, or to deliver us from them, his liberty is conserved by the means of a powerful friend he hath in this town, let this suffice you for the present. If we can but conserve this communication, by the intermission of this flying messenger, and a cipher which I would have us use, we shall presently come to the end of some high enterprise: the secret of our cipher shall be to take the neighbouring letters to those we have need of; as for example in stead of an A. take a B. for B. take C. for C. D. and so until Z. for the which Z. we will take two AA. then for to say, I adore you, I would put these letters, K. BEPSF. ZPW. yet if you find not this convenient, you may let it alone; but for my part I shall always much esteem this eypher, as most necessary to my good fortune and the secret.  
Thus ended this letter which left some kind of sorrow in the mind of Magdalene because she assured herself that this unknown Cavalier was her brother. This proximity did not please her, for as much as it did not accord with the love that begun to take place in her heart. Erimene that penetrated into her most secret thoughts, perceived well that there was something in the letter that pleased her not, and to be cleared of the suspicion which she had conceived, she prayed Magdelene to tell her what it was that troubled her, to the end she might comfort her. Dear companion of my caprivitie said Magdelene to her, you have just occasion to complain of me, if I should reserve any secret from you, and to testify that my heart is open to you, I will tell you truly, that since the hour that my father made me to see the Cavalier, I have had extraordinary troubles. I know not whether it proceed from the influence of the stars, Blood, or the graces of that gentleman, but I have suffered since that moment, unquietnesses which I have hitherto been ignorant of, and also I have a certain sorrow that he is so near unto me, I have said enough I am ashamed that I have so freely confessed my fragility unto you.  
The ingenious Erimene having heard these words, which confirmed what she had before imagined, thought that this was a proper occasion to declare reciprocally to Magdelene, the secret which she had hidden from her, to encourage her love which ought to serve as a foundation to the edifice of their liberty. Since that you have spoken to me with so much freedom, said Erimene, I am obliged to imitate you, lest I give you occasion to accuse me of ingratitude, and this shall be now to acquit me of that which I own to the affection which you have so particularly testified unto me. Until this present I have concealed from you, my true name, birth and country; not to follow the ordinary custom of those, who seeing themselves in a miserable condition, vaunt to be of a greater extraction than they are, to the end to move compassion or courtesy in others. I told you at our first meeting that I was called Erimene, that I was of the kingdom of Arragon, and of mean condition, at this present I will confess the truth to you. I am called Leonor Velazquez; I am of Toledo and of noble birth. Then she made him an ample narration of all the history which we have already recited, of the death of Felix and her servant, and the cruelty of Don Jovan her brother; as it hath been said in the first book, than she continued saying. Having then considered by the tragic end of this unhappy lover (which died for being disguised in my person) by the cruelty of Don Jovan my brother, and seeing also that he had slain her in thinking to have killed me, I conceived so great a hatred against him, and his presence was so odious to me, that since that time it was impossible for me to stay in his company. For to separate myself entirely from him, I lest Toledo, and went with one of my cousins to the town of Leride situate in the province of Catalogna. Amongst the pleasant conversations of this town, I saw a Cavalier whose perfections and good offices which he rendered me, obliged me to give him my heart and soul, that I might not be reputed scornful nor ingrateful. But with your permission I will attend a more convenient time to recount unto you how I came to see him, what engaged me to love him, what adventure brought me into this region, and what subject hath ravished from me this object of my affection. I will not for the present entertain you with other things but what may be proper to comfort you in the pain you are in, and moderate the unquietness of your spirit. For this cause I tell you that this Cavalier, which they disguise with the name of Don Lovis, is called Fenise. I have divers times spoken and discoursed with him, as being the intimate friend of my brother Don Jovan. I knew then all his kindred, and as soon as your father let us see him with him, in Spanish habits, I knew him to be the same I have now told you. But having reasoned upon the disguisement under the which your father presented him to us, I do imagine that he did it for fear his presence which was unknown to you should give you some apprehension. To tell you by what means he is come hither, how he hath made friendship with your father, nor by what title he possesseth the house where he dwelleth, I cannot, for they are things I have no knowledge of, but of his valour, generosity, discretion and wit I can much commend; although not so much as his merits deserve, so that if your sorrow proceed from the fear you have he is too near you, you may banish it at this instant, and place instead or it, a hope to arrive one day at a glorious success, provided that we can but recover our dear liberty. I this day see, answered Magdalene, that heaven is interessed in the alliance of our amity, I receive so much consolation from you, that I do no longer fear what troubles can befall me, the knowledge which you have given me of this Cavalier, disperseth all the confusions wherewith my spirit was troubled. In the pain which I had to believe what my father would make me understand, I was a little moved to wish him well, but for the present, I must confess to you that he possesseth my heart, and that I take an extreme pleasure high the increase of my affection. I perceive now nothing that can trouble me upon this subject but fear that he should want inclination to esteem my amity. No, No, answered Leonor, you must not trouble yourself a new, I have experience enough, to judge of him the just contrary to that thought: I can assure you that he loveth you: And that it must be so, I will give you a testimony clear enough, let us look again upon the letter, look you, regard this example which he giveth you, to use the cipher: it is not without mystery that he useth these words, I adore you: ading afterwards yet if you find this not convenient, you are not constrained, the will ought to be free: but for my part I shall always much esteem these Ciphers as most necessary to my good fortune; All these words are equivocal, and written by him with design to explicate unto you his feelings.  
Magdelene easily believed what Leonor persuaded her, because her discourse sympathized with her desires, she prayed her to make an answer for her to Fenise, and to use the propounded cipher, as well to disguise her thoughts to her father, as to let her lover see the esteem she made of his counsel. Leonor was not much prayed to render her this service, die was interessed therein by the desire she had to leave her captivity; for she knew Fenise to be so hardy and able a man, that he would not spare his life to attempt their deliverance. She writ to him discreetly the thoughts of her friend, letting him understand that she was the secretary; that she would serve him in all honest things he could desire; and in the end conjured him, that in case there was any hopes of liberty, to remember her in the quality of the sister of Don Jovan.  
This letter was sent him by the air as the former, Fenise received it with joy, and read it with ravishment, his love and courage augmented to the double: love is the son of Mars as well as of Venus. What gladness felt he when he knew that Leonor was companion to his mistress, he promised himself better success in all his designs, as well for that which regarded his passion, as for the project he had to ravish Magdelene from the possession of the king of Algiers. He knew Leonor to have an excellent wit, and to be very capable to help in a great enterprise: adding also, that in procuring her liberty he should deserve pardon for the death of her brother.  
The next day after the receipt of this letter, Feeze went to visit the Bacha Mahomet, to entertain his amity, and not to be unthankful for the favours which he continually received from him: and because Mahomet loved much his conversation he kept him to sup with him, so that he was long before he returned to his own house. In the interim, Frederick stayed there to watch if there was any news from Magdelene & as he walked in the Gallery, regarding from to time this amiable window, about a leaven of the clock at night he there perceived a light, this made him think that the messenger, might well have some dispatch, to bring to him, and thereupon he went to fetch a light, placed it in the gallery as a countersigne, it was scarcely seen when that of the window appeared no more, and immediately the faithful bird arrived with this writing which was directed to Fenise, yet Frederick, opened it, for they were in so good intelligence that there was no secret betwixt them.  
THE LETTER OF MAGDELENE TO DON FENISE.  
I Do not know whether or no my father hath told you, that for a long time the King of Algiers, hath prosecuted and solicited me to consent to the proposition which he daily maketh me to marry me. If yond do not already know it, I now tell you of it. At the present his passion presseth him so violently, that since yesterday he hath threatened me to convert his love into anger, and instead of respects and favours, which I may hope from him, I shall receive cruel rigours, if I do not resolve to content him within a month. He hath represented unto me, that for the love of me he hath used my father with less severity than all the other slaves, that he goeth and cometh where and when he will, but if I do not adhere to his desires within the time limited, he hath protested unto me to make him feel what a power angered can do, and to finish upon me the vengeance of the contempt which he sayeth I have made, of the honour he would raise me to; and the good he procureth me. Judge then in what alarm I am, consider what apprehensions I have to arrive at the limits of the time he hath prescribed to me for fear of being abandoned to the greatest misfortunes that can arrive, seeing my father suffer upon my occasion. But if heaven inspire you with some industry to deliver me from the extreme torment which my soul suffereth, in the name of God execute it betwixt this, and the prefixed term which is given me. And if we can (Leonor and I) contribute any thing to this diligence, advertise us, and believe that we will be most hardy and courageous, to enterprise it, and to die generously for want of good success. Make haft then, if you love me, and if you esteem the irrevocable gift I make you of my heart.  
Fenise being returned to his house, Frederick shown him the letter he had received, the which caused great disquietness in them both the rest of the night. They laboured with their spirits to invent some stratagem to deliver this beauty from the pain wherein she was, but as many designs as they plotted so many difficulties they found in the execution thereof. In the end after divers propositions, they could not foresee any good success, by reason of the recluse life which Selin made them lead; yet they were resolved to undermine the tower where Magdelene lodged, and steal her away with Leonor, when there should any vessel arrive, wherein they might carry them into Spain. The house of Fenise was in a situation very favourable to their enterprise, near to the Palace, and without any obstacle betwixt them, the space was nothing but a garden, which appertained to Fenise; besides, the earth was sandy and easy to dig. All the difficulty was to find an invention to sustain the earth; for being sandy, it was subject to fall in, and capable to overthrow them and choke them in their work. But Frederick was of opinion to break up a boarded floor in Fenise his house, to take the boards and joists to serve for that business. Having ripely consulted the execution of this project, and seeing that this was the only means for their safety, they resolved to try their fortune; they gave advice thereof to the prisoners, counselling Magdelene to change her lodging, and to pray the King to give her the lowest room of the tower where she was, and also to take the extent of her lodging with a thread, and to send it by their ordinary post, to the end they might not open the mouth of the mine in any other place but her chamber. All this was executed as it was devised, the King agreed with a good heart, that Magdelene should lodge where she thought good, so that she and Leonor took justly the measure, and sent it to them. In the mean time Frederick and Fenise were provided of instruments proper for their design, they set their level to the which the knowledge of the Mathematics serves perfectly which comprehends Geometry, which Fenise understood excellently, and during the silence of the night, whilst men slept they wrought with an incomparable courage underproping the earth as they hollowed it. Heaven which had inspired them with this invention, conducted their hands so happily, that within a little distance from the place where they begun their work, and the first night they found a strait cave, which extended itself in length directly towards the end of their design. Ravished with joy they fell incontinently upon their knees, and gave thanks to God being persuaded that this could not have happened but by miracle. They entered boldly therein, and law that it was the work of man, and ended at the foundation of the wall of the Palace; this foundation was so large and strong, that other courarages less constant than theirs, would have given over the enterprise, there were such terrible stones, that for to demolish and displace only one, they must consume all their force, tools and time; they gave not over, for all that, they visited, searched, and groped all over with their irons, in the end they knocked in a place which founded not like stone, they regarded more carefully, and knew that it was a little door covered with bars of iron, so rusty that it was not to be distinguished from the stone, but only with the touch of a hammer. They contented themselves with their labour for this time, and went to repose the rest of the night, with resolution to continue the next day, and labour to break this door with crows of Iron, and force the bolts wherewith it was shut. The beginning of the night following, as Frederick walked in the Gallery, expecting the hour to go to work, he received a Letter, wherein was enclosed the third which contained the necessary measure, for the better conducting of the opening of the mine, by which letter they learned, that it was be done under the chamber of Leonor, because that of Magdelene advanced more into the Palace by two fathoms. Animated with an extraordinary courage, they went into their mine, furnished with files, crows, pincers, and other irons proper to break and beat in pieces all obstacles that they should meet with. They had not so much trouble as they apprehended, time and moisture had wrought for them, and taken away more than the half of their pains, the bolts and locks were so old, rusty, and consumed, that they scarcely presented their irons to them, but they yielded to them, and opened upon them, they found the entry stopped with planks, and a certain kind of matter like plaster, which did not much resist them, passing further they saw a greater concavity, which extended itself two ways, they took that they judged most fit for their project; after they visited the other in every corner, but amongst all these turn under ground, they could not find any issue nor entrance, but that which they had made, they were both ravished with astonishment, and yet very glad, thinking they might now work securely, without being surprised or discovered, as they apprehended before they had broken the door, not knowing what they should find on the other side. They begun to consider for what use these caverns were, and in the end imagined, that some Tyrant of Algiers, fearing he should lose his Kingdom, and have his person seized upon, had caused them to be made to save himself, if there should be occasion, and that time had taken away the memory thereof, and filled up the entry. Then they took the measure which was sent them, and multiplying it as often as the Letter spoke of, found that one of the arms of these Caves reached just under the Lodging of Leonor, being twelve Foot distant from that of Magdelene.  
They gave over work and retired, to give notice thereof to those for whom they did it; they sent them word that it seemed that God wrought for them, and conducted their enterprise, having found all their work almost done, by the means of caves which they found, telling them also, that they believed they were come under the lodging of Leonor: These two friends, ravished with joy of this comfortable news, answered them, that the night following Leonor would knock with a piece of wood upon the floor of her chamber, to give them a certain sign of the place where she was.  
With this intelligence Frederick and Fenise continued their exercise of labouring pioneers, and when those planks and boards they were provided of, were useful unto them, they underpropped the vault for fear of being overthrown, and at the end of their work to end their lives. This work was extreme painful for these men which were not accustomed to it, besides, being but two, they could have done no great matter: In effect, without meeting with these hollow places which they found, they had died in the enterprise. All they did, during six nights, was only to underprop as well as they could that compass of the vault where they pretended to make the hole; and yet they were careful to advertise Magdelene and Leonor thereof, to the end they should not lose the hope they had given them; having underpropped it, they yet employed three nights to break the vault, ever and anon listening to judge of the thickness by the blows which they expected must be given by Leonor or Magdelene. In the end they heard them, which made a harmony which charmed their senses; this animated their courages, but their forces failed them, so that for to take new vigour they remitted the rest of their travail until another night; it was impatiently expected, but it came according to its order, they began again to break, but they had scarcely employed a quarter of an hour, when they saw they had no more need of crows and hammers, and that the earth fell down of itself. Then Leonor, who had heard the noise of their hammers, knocked upon the floor of her lodging, and made herself to be heard so clearly to our workmen, that they judged than they had not above two foot of thickness left; they continued vigorously, and the stones and earth came so fast towards their centre, that in a little time they pierced and entered into the chamber of Leonor, whom they found alone, and who received them with amorous embracements. Having thanked God for this happy event, they went to repose, deferring until the next day the seeing of Magdelene, who was retired, not believing that they could this night finish their enterprise, and because It was three a clock, Leonor judged they ought not to waken her, for fear that some unexpected misfortune might discover their secret. This judicious consideration obliged the two friends to moderate the vehemency of their desires, not for to hazard that in a moment, which they hoped to possess many years; when they were departed, Leonor set a table over the mouth of the Mine, and put a great Turkey Carpet upon it, and as soon as it was day she went into the chamber of Magdalene, and saluted her with this pleasant and miraculous news; Magdelene would scarcely take time to dress herself, she was so impatient to see this happy hole. She considered with joy and admiration, figuring to herself, that although it tended towards the centre of the earth, yet it was the way to Paradise, and a favourable issue to escape out of the hands of these Infidels, and come again into the exercise of the sovereign and only Religion. She was a little troubled that Leonor had enjoyed alone the presence of her Father and Lover, reproaching her for not calling her; but Leonor satisfied her, letting her understand, as it was true, that they did but only enter into the chamber, and went out again, for the day approached, which would not suffer them to stay longer there, and that she should see them with more conveniency the night following: This hope contented and disquieted her at the same time, for when one approacheth the possession of a benefit, they desire it with more violence, forasmuch as they better know the value thereof, and also presume that there is no more trouble to attain it. This night so impatiently expected being come, in the greatest silence thereof, Frederick and Fenise entered into their Cave, with a staff they knocked softly under the table that covered the mouth of the Mine, to let them know that they were there, and to know if they might enter, at the same instant they saw appear Magdelene and Leonor with a light, who stretched out their arms to them, crying for joy, and pitying the pains that this Father and Lover had taken for their sakes; necessity, which is the mother of invention, taught Femose to knock nails into the planks they had brought to serve for a ladder, to mount to the centre of his affections, he made Fredrick pass the first, he climbing to assist him, because his age took away his agility. It is impossible to express here the joy of these four persons, and particularly of Magdelene and Fenise; she did not know whom she should embrace first, her Father, or her over; blood counselled her to go to the one, and love to the other; but after having suffered this little combat in spirit, as most wife and discreet, she cast herself upon her knees before her Father, and held his knees embraced long time, and in the interim courteously cast her eyes upon glorious Fenise who commended the action of his mistress, as testifying an acknowledgement of the obligations she had to this venerable old man who had suffered himself to be a slave so many years for the love of her. Frederick had enjoyed longer time, the ravishing embracements of his daughter, if Fenise had not been present, but desiring he should partake of his contentment, he made Magdelene rise and presented her to our Cavalier. He wanted not much at that time of prostrating himself, upon the earth to adore her, for she was so shining with attractions of beauty and joy, which is the most excellent paint, and which had given her complexion so lively a lustre, that he believed he saw a goddess before him. She came towards him with a grave modesty, and Fenise saluted her withal the respect & reverence she merited; having rendered her this homage, he ran to embrace Leonor, to whom Frederick had made his compliment, they held no superfluous discourse for fear of losing time which was so dear to them. Fenise would willingly have exaggerated his passion, and testified his Eloquence in this action, but it behoved him to leave amorous devises, and to discourse upon the means to finish that which they had so happily begun; their resolution was to dispose their flight for the third night after, and that Magdelene and Leonor should disguise themselves in Turkish habits which Fenise should bring them, who charged himself with that diligence, and all others that should be necessary for the stealing of them away. Upon this determination, they begun their embracements and tears, and took leave one of another to dispose of themselves to finish the work they had so well begun; whosoever had diligently held the countenances of Magdelene & Leonor might well have observed the secret joy of their hearts.  
The King seeing the time approach that he had given Magdelene to resolve to consent to his will, visited her more often then ordinary, thinking to learn by her carriage her determination. He came the next day after this dear meeting into her chamber, to see her new lodging, and seeing him arrive, she met him with such cheerfulness, that the King was astonished at this pleasant change, for he never saw her before but with tears in her eyes, and sighs in her mouth. He knew not to what to attribute these gracious actions, whether to the fear she had to see her father suffer as he had threatened, or her sensibleness of the honour he intended to do her in taking her for his wife. But without examining more curiously the original of this alteration, he was infinitely satisfied, as well with her good reception as charming entertainment: for there is no creature in the world so proper to make a deception as a woman.  
The King being retired, believing that he had won her heart and affections, and that she was disposed to accomplish his desires, would testify unto her the good and profit she should in time receive from his liberality. He sent her a box of gold inamelled, wherein there was two bracelets and a gar●and of Diamonds of very great value. She received them with all her heart in making a thousand humble compliments; saying this magnificence was prodigious, seeing that a Lord and master made presents to his slave. Leonor felt also the good humour of the King, she had for her part a chain of pearl which was not of much less value than the gift he had made to Magdelene.  
All things happened as happily as they could wish for Fortune who had been so contrary to them, and who had proved their courages upon a thousand occasions, than treated them most couteously and shown herself favourable upon all occasions. At that time she conducted to the port of Algiers two vessels of Pirates, who used no other exercise, but rob upon the sea all the vessels they could render themselves masters of, sharing their booty with the King Selin. The one of these pirates was called Roustan and the other Nazouf. Fenise being informed of their arrival, made a design to serve himself of the ship of Nazouf to steal away the captives; for this purpose he suborned with silver two Moores which came with this Pirate, and made them declare upon oath, that Nazouf defrauded daily the King of the tribute which was due to him, concealing and hiding the better half of the booty which he made at sea, without giving him partas he was bound. Upon this deposition they seized upon the Pirate, and made him prisoner, and thereby his voyage was stayed. Roustan which was the head of the other ship departed immediately to exercise his ordinary trade. Fenise visited the ship of Nazouf, informed himself what arms was therein, of the men that kept it, and of all other things that he judged necessary to his intention.  
The term being come so impatiently desired by our four christians, the night rendered herself guilty of their design, she assembled all her darknesses to warrant them from the danger they might run. Frederick and Fenise went by the same way they had traced with so much pain into the chamber of Leonor, carrying with them the two turkish habits, wherein it was determined that Magdelene and she should  themselves as they did. Having hidden in many places of their habits those precious jewels which the King had given them, in the hope he had that Magdelene should be his wife; they found themselves ready to leave the the palace, and abandon themselves to the discretion of Fortune. Then without losing time, Fenise made but one leap into the floor of the mine, being strong and disposed, to the end he might help this fearful troop to descend, who marched under his conduct. Frederick descended after him, to whom Fenise gave his hand, and a dark lantern which he held, than he mounted again for fear his mistress or Leonor should hurt themselves; having safely let them down, he lightly threw himself after them and carefully guiding them, they begun their way by these horrible places under ground. They had scarcely passed six or eight paces, when they perceived the earth to fall upon them, as if they should be overthrown and buried quick, which terrified them very much, not knowing whether they should advance or recoil, but they were delivered from this terrible apprehension, by another alarm which was not less fearful. As they begun again their way, animated by the courage of Fenise, which had taken the candle out of the lantern to see more clearly, the earth fell down a second time upon their heads, and a man fell before them at their feet crying Jesus, the air he moved in falling put out the candle which Fenise carried. Oh heaven, what fear! yet this generous Cavalier was not astonished; it is a dead man said he, let us go on, and going the first held his mistress by the hand, the others followed. He would have continued his way, and advanced towards the vaulted caves; but Leonor made him stay; saying they should assist him that was fall'n, and that it was some christian slave; since that at the very instant of his fall he had called upon the holy name of God: that (that being so as it was very probable) he would help them the sooner to their ship, her advice was approved; they helped him to rise, and went on leading him with them, without troubling themselves to interrogate him, contenting themselves to believe he was a christian. They had much incommodity to get out of these caves for want of light not knowing which way to take; at every step they stumbled, and fell one upon the other by reason of the stones and clods of the earth that were under their feet. In the end they got to the house of Fenise where Magdelene and Leonor took breath which they had lost by weariness and fear in this terrible passage. Fenise begun to approach this slave with a candle in his hand to see who it was they had received unto their company, when he heard a violent knocking at the door of this house. Fear begun then to seize upon the hearts of the most determined of the company, they look one upon another without speaking word, or knowing what to resolve. And Fenise seeing that the blows doubled, animated his resolution, and went to see who knocked so impatiently at his door: he knew that it was the slave savourite to Mahomet, who prayed him from his master to come presently to him, for an affair wherein diligence was so necessary, that it would save him his life. Fenise sent away the slave assuring him that he would presently follow him.  
This news troubled our Cavalier more than all the passed alarms had done, on one side, he was called to the succour of his friend and benefactor, and on the other side he was retained by his passion and honour not to abandon the troop that had no hope but in his assistance.  
Then he feared that as soon as day should appear Magdelenes flight would be perceived in the King's lodging. In fine, he found means to perform the one and the other obligation, he armed the two women, as Frederick already was, with Carabines and Scimitars, and left his lodging, taking what he had the most precious, of silver and jewels and the most easy to carry, and carried them to the vessel of Nazouf, as feigning to give them in guard, by the King's commandment, until that Nazouf who was prisoner, should be convinced or justified of the accusation he was charged with, advertising them that as soon as he had seen Mahomet he would return to them, and put them to sea, as they went to execute this project, they saw the same slave come running to them, conjuring Fenise to make haste, otherwise his Master was lost. So that seeing himself thus pressed, he broke the determination which he had taken, and went to the lodging of Mahomet, taking with him these four persons, letting the slave know that they were men of confidence and valour wherewith he was accompanied to serve Mahomet in case of need; being arrived at the door, Fenise made his company attend at a mean distance, whilst he went to speak to the Bacha: He found him at the entry of his house, and by a very short discourse, let Fenise know the pain he was in; Dear friend, said he, I am fall'n into a misfortune, wherein I have need of the assistance of a man of valour and loyalty as you are, to help me to save my life. It is the merit of this fair Christian here (showing him euphemy which accompanied him) which hath obliged me to an action wherewith the King will be offended: She hath been a long time persecuted by the passion of a Moor cousin to the King, to adhere to his sensualities, and although she hath often prayed him to desist from these importunities, and impertinent pursuites, he forbore not to go on. This insolent would try his good fortune, and to the contempt of my respect, is entered into my house by the means of a servant which he had gained, to the end to obtain what he desired of euphemy, or else to render her some notorious displeasure. And I knowing her innocence, and the rashness of this Moor, I surprised him as he put the first foot into the chamher of this fair one, and have made him find in the same place the last step of his life, his body is hidden, but this Homicide will be discovered, as soon as it shall be day. The King will not pardon me, since that I have violated the respect due to his blood, whereof he is proudly jealous. These considerations hinder me now from reasoning, and looking after means to warrant me from the danger wherein I am; therefore I have recourse to your good wit, and cast myself into your arms with this Christian Lady to assist me with your counsel, and generous effects. Fenise having heard this discourse, setting aside compliments, told him, that he must put euphemy into man's apparel; Mahomet did it incontinently; then seizing upon many stones, and a good quantity of sequines, with the aid and assistance of his faithful slave which he took with them, he abandoned himself to the faith and conduct of Fenise.  
They went together to get the gate open, where they stood in need of no small credit; for there is a marvellous care observed in keeping the gates of this Town, but the Officers and Porters knowing the Bacha and Subbacha, believed that they were going to execute some command of the Kings, as they told them, they were going to seize upon a great booty, which Nazouf had concealed, with design to frustrate the King of his right, and for this cause they took with them these men which accompanied them, and particularly this slave, which knew where the riches were hidden; in saying so, they shown him that fell into the Mine. This dissimulation agreed very well with the imprisonment of Nazouf, which every one already knew, so that the gate was freely opened unto them, besides Mahomet being the King's favourite, they durst not doubt of what he said. The Bacba being out of the Town (whereof the gate was incontinently shut after them) took notice of the company which were with Fenise, fearing that so great a number might cause some confusion in their enterprise; he prayed our Cavalier to rid himself of these people, and send them back again; but Fenise assured him of them, and prayed him to take care for nothing, but to follow him and confide in him, and in those that accompanied him. Thereupon they came near the vessel, Fenise called to those that guarded it; for he had informed himself of their names when he visited it; presently Fenise and his unknown troop entered, which were courteously received by the Mariners, if there can be any courtesy amongst those people. They were scarcely entered, when by the aid and intelligence of some of those of the ship, which Fenise had gained, or rather suborned with money and fair promises, they seized upon all the Moors which were in the ship, and disarmed them, they loosed the captives which were at the oars, and put the Moors in their places, making them also to prove the strange changes of fortune. This being done, without provision of victuals or arms, but what they found in the ship; Fenise cut the cord that held the vessel to the port, and by force of arms they got out of the shallow road into the main sea. The women were put into the best room of the vessel, where they entertained themselves with their prodigious adventures, their long captivity, and the hopes they had shortly to see again their dear country Spain, and there to enjoy the sweet repose of life. In the interim Fenise, Frederick, and Mahomet, with the two slaves, that is to say, he they found in the Mine, & he belonging to Mahomet which he had brought with him, being guilty of the death of the King of Algiers cousin, were all upon the watch, as well to see if they were followed, as to make the Moors, whom they had chained, to row with all their force, that they might get away the sooner. The day being come, Fenise regarding all those in the vessel, considered the fashion and carriage of the slave of the Mine, admiring that his fortune had served herself of so strange a means to give him his liberty; by considering of him, he judged him to be of some noble birth, and in this imagination, he came to him, praying him to content his curiosity, and let him know how he had been taken by these Barbarians, and made slave, and by what happy accident he was fall'n into the mine there to find his liberty. Then this unknown, with a modest smile, testifying his willingness to satisfy the desire of Fenise, begun his history with this honest Compliment, speaking in the Castilian tongue.  
Generous Cavalier, I would willingly beseech you to dispense with me for this obedience, the recital you command me to make, requireth so much patience and time to hear it, and there are so many sad and tragic accidents therein, that I am afraid you will be much troubled before I shall be at the middle thereof, or that the end will make you extremely melancholic. Yet since it is your pleasure, I will begin this sad discourse, to finish it when you command me silence.   

THE HISTORY OF DON JAMES  
THere is a famous and rich Town in the Kingdom of Catalogne, called Leride. It pleased Heaven about twenty four years ago to let me be born there, of a noble Family, and of good reputation; the greatest part of those who are far from their Country speak in this manner of their extractions, although very often one may know their lying; but whosoever will inform himself of my Line, when we shall arrive at the Port, if God conduct us thither, shall find my words true. The excesses of youth, which very few men escape, carried away my Father to lascivious affections, from whence I had a bastard Brother; he was of appearance good enough, but of ill effects. My Father caused him to be brought very young into the arms of my Mother, to bring him up, which was an action more rash than civil. She was more charitable than she ought to have been, for Wives sometimes are guilty of the faults of their Husbands, not that they love them, but because in supporting their first debauches, they give occasion for seconds. She took as great care to bring him up as if he had been her proper child; nevertheless she loved him but as a stranger. I had, some few years more than he, but although I was in an age of innocence, I was as indifferent to my Father as if I had not been his child, or to say better, as odious to see as an enemy: There are Fathers that have less humanity then savage beasts; he loved Lucian as much as he hated me, this was the name of this bastard brother; I cannot better exaggerate the affection which he bore him, then in saying so. We had a Sister which was a little younger than we, but advantageously fair, and we were all three brought up at the same place, our Father's house. During our infancy, Lucian and I were almost always in debate, but being but for slight things, our dissensions were incontinently appeased, sometimes for fear of our Father, and sometimes for fear of being punished by those who had care of our educations. But when we had attained to the age of twenty years, he became more audacious, and I more choleric; he envied the demonstrations of amity which my mother used towards me, and I was as envious of the affection my Father bore him; these favours gave him a licentious liberty, liberty boldness, and boldness insolence to do so many evil actions, that he got the reputation of a most perfidious and infamous person; he had no other exercise then to ruin the honours of those he could meet with, for whether their simplicities suffered him to surprise them, or that they resisted his dishonest desires, he did not forbear to slander them; his tongue was so dangerous, that he spoke ill indifferently of all women, publishing as soon lies as truths, and vaunting of that which he did not, as well as of that which he did. The disorders of his life mounted to such an excess, that he had a design to enterprise upon the honour of his own Sister, the sacred limits of blood, her proper virtue, nor my vigilant care, could not retain him; I was advertised of his pernicious project by a servant whom he thought to have rendered adherent to his abominable intentions, because she had suffered him to communicate them unto her; but this was a discreet Maid, who had given him this audience, but only that he might confide in her, and hinder him from seeking to another, who it might be would not have carried herself so discreetly therein. She did but hear him to learn his resolutions, and give me notice thereof, that I might prudently prevent them. When this Maid had told me what she knew thereof, I could scarcely believe her, the thing was so prodigious; but considering the manners of the person, and comparing them with the discourse of this Maid, I found he was capable to commit actions yet more monstrous. I would be wise in this affair, and inform myself of the truth, to the end that the vengeance I hoped to take, might be esteemed just, and not rash. From that hour mine eyes were Sentinels over the words and actions of Lucian; he made no step, nor ever approached near the place where Olinde was, so mine innocent Sister was called, that I did not discreetly watch him, from whence I found more confirmation of the truth of the report which was made me then I would have done; yet I dissembled the trouble of my mind, with intention to govern myself with such industry, that at the same time his designs should be broken, my Sister delivered from his persecutions, his impudence chastised, my vengeance accomplished, and myself without fear of being known for the Author of his death. I disguised myself in the night, and followed him when he went about the streets, to attrap him all alone, and let him feel the violence of my choler, in killing him. One time amongst others, when I went to search him with this design, after having long time walked about the Town, and the places of debauches, where I knew he ordinarily frequented, without meeting with him, in entering into the street where the house of Don Ignigo Orozco is situate, one of the principal Cavaliers of the City, I heard a confused noise of voices; I went towards this house, and knew that it was there where the rumour was, but yet I knew not what was the cause thereof at the same time. I saw two men unknown, which approached as I did with like curiosity; I came to the door, and perceived the house all within to be on fire, which did not only threaten to consume the Edifice, but also the goods and persons which were therein, and all this misfortune came by the negligence of a Lackey, who had fastened a candle against a wooden ceiling.  
From moment to moment the flames augmented with so much fury that some of the men were constrained to leap out of the windows, seeing the stairs on fire; the women being less courageous, stayed besieged in their chambers, crying for mercy, and causing great pity to those who heard them. Amongst the rest which suffered these fears, I perceived through the flames and smoke, a Lady, whose beauty and  testified her to be a person of esteem; and seeing the extreme necessity which pressed them, I cast myself into the house, and taking a great hammer from a man that I met, which was come to give succour, I broke a thin wall and entered into the chamber where the poor desolates were, amongst the which I saw saw the original of my first admiration, which was in a swound, I took her in mine arms, and carried her cut of this fearful danger which threatened her, making all the rest which were prisoners with her to come out. As this accident happened, during the first sleep of the whole family, this lady was wakened in a fright, and being presently cast into the floor, was not clothed but only with a petticoat and waste coat, the one of satin richly embroidered with flowers of gold and silver, and the other pinked, through the which appeared a breast of snow capable to inflame ice itself. Seeing her so little covered, I cast my cloak over her body. I do not know whether it was to keep her warm; or for fear she should inflame the heart of some other as she had done mine, for what marble could have been insensible of so many attractions? As I carried her away being yet in her swound, those two men which I met in coming to the door, came to me with their swords in their hands, and one of them who had his face covered with cypress, because he would not be known, put himself in action to ravish from me the conquest which I had made with so much courage, and to take from me the worthy object of my love. In this violence seeing myself without my sword; which I had quitted having no use thereof against the fire, I knew not what to do, but to use words, and represent to them, that their enterprise was not only incivill, but very cowardly and infamous, to set upon a man without arms, and in saving a lady of her condition from the fire. The other woman which accompanied her, alarmed with this insolence begun to cry for help, than the companion of him that had set upon me in the cypress mask gave me a great thrust in the right side which passed quite through my body, then turning his face he fled with the other, I would have run after them, but the blood which issued in abundance out of the wound rendered me so feeble that I fell down at the second step. In the interim this lady returned from her swound much more vigorous than before, having two souls for one, for I had given her mine. Yet she was like to die for fear, opening her eyes, and seeing a man at her feet all covered with blood, and whose habits testified that he was not of base condition. Whilst she was in this new astonishment, the master and servants of a neighbouring house came out, some to help this lady, and others to assist to quench the fire: which whilst they did, the others carried away this beauty to their house with one of her cousins which accompanied her. At the same instant Don Jgnigo was told of the disaster which was arrived me in saving from the fire, the most preticus goods of his house; And without knowing who I was, he ran presently to cause me to be succoured, having known me, he had his heart seized with extreme sorrow, seeing that this misfortune came by raeson of the good office I had rendered him. He made me incontinently be carried to my lodging, accompanying me, & protesting to revenge me rigorously if he could discover the infamous culpable, finding himself extremely interessed in the offence. As soon as they begun to look to my wounds, Lucian arrived feigning to be extremely afflicted for my misfortune, he informed himself of whom I had received this injury, promising to employ his life to be revenged of them. There were so skilful operators about this cure that in a few days I was perfectly healed, for the blow did not offend any inward part, nor entered much within the body; the servant which had given me the first notice of the pernicious projects of Lucian, seeing me ready to to go abroad, came to me into my chamber telling me that she had a new secret to communicate to me: and after she was assured that no body could hear her, she held me this discourse, speaking softly. Sir said she, I should esteem myself confederate with with your enemies, if after having discovered a conspiration they have made against you, I should not advertise you thereof; herein you shall know how much I esteem the conservation of your person, as you have already made proof of the respect I bear to your honour in what I have heretofore told you. You must know then, that the night after you were hurt, about twelve a clock, I heard a talking in in the chamber of Lucian by reason of some indisposition I had which would not suffer me to sleep, I arose and put my head to my window (which you know looketh into the court over against that of Lucian, which hath the same view but a little lower than mine) I could easily see through the glass what they did there, because there was a light. I saw there was ashes upon the table, and that with the end of a flat stick he made clean his sword, full of certain rusty spots●, and in doing thereof, I heard him hold this discourse to Fabrice, the man that serveth him, and whom he trusteth with his incestuous designs, since that which we did the last night, there are two things which trouble my spirit. The first, that mine arm had no more force nor address but to leave in doubt the life of Don James, that was the name I bore when I was happier than I now am.  
Scarcely was this name spoken, when fair Leenor which heard it, and who being at the door of the chamber of the poop had also heard the beginning of this recital, came with her arms open & cast them about the neck of Don James, ah, my dear husband, said she, in crying out, it is possible that thou art this day so near me? he knowing the voice and countenance of her that spoke; Ah God is it you my dear Leonor? saying so he embraced her reciprocally, and they remained fastened together without being able to speak any more. They were so ravished with joy, that they wanted not much of giving up their souls in this transport. After a good space of time, they opened their arms, and beheld one another with tears in their eyes, Don James to dissemble his, endeavoured to reprove those of Leonor, telling her that those that weep for joy, aught to have no tears for their troubles. All those that saw these amorous actions, marvelled at this prodigious encounter, which gave Fenise the more curiosity to know the end of the history begun, the which Don James (having reunited his spirits moved with the sudden apparition of this Angel) continued thus.  
The second discontent which troubleth me, said Lucian, is that thou couldst not steal away Leonor the Niece of Don Ignigo, whom I thought to have kept in some secret place as a stranger and a very fair Maid. I thought to have come to the end of my design in despite of her and her resistance. See Sir, what insolent words: If we should have stolen her away, answered Fabrice, I believe that you would not have received thereby much pleasure; for I do not know how one can find it, where there is no correspondence in desires, nor that one can exercise such rigour upon a beauty, who is seen with tears in her eyes to lament the loss of her honour. Pity, than answered Lucian, hath hindered thee from satisfying my will. Fabrice made excuses which Lucian received for that time; yet propounding to himself to search occasion to accomplish his rash design, as far as to take the boldness to entreat an unseasonable hour into the house where Leonor should be, although he should be forced to scale the window of her chamber, or force the door. Fabrice answered him nothing, it may be not approving what his Master said, as being too rash and dangerous to execute: From whence it happened that two days after, this unfortunate confident was found dead, with three stabs of a poniard in the breast, which I presume was given him by the hand of Lucian, through rage and revenge, as well for the cowardliness wherewith he accused him, as seeing him not disposed to assist him in the last proposition which he had made. Since your growing well I have observed his disquietness, as being troubled therewith, and lately knowing that you begun to rise and walk in your chamber, he stamped upon the ground, and lifted his eyes to Heaven, as if he had made some secret threats. But yesterday he came to me, and made me this discourse. Glicere, said he, thou art not ignorant of the damage I received in the recovery of Don jame, since that the effect of my desires is thereby stayed, and extremely delayed; his presence hinders me from satisfying the passion I have for Olinde, in enjoying her beauty, I do not say her love, though I have always perceived that she hath loved me as a brother, but at the present I am as odious to her as an enemy, which maketh me at this time to be pricked on as much with vengeance as love, and that I seek to content my desires to satisfy the one and the other passion. For this cause I have recourse to thee, having already communicated unto thee my secrets, that thou mayst serve me in a new project which I have made, wherein I have need of a most particular confident, which I desire thou should est be, assuring thee that thy recompense shall exceed much what thou shalt'st think to have merited. See here a certain powder, said he, in drawing a paper out of his pocket, which you must make Don jame to swallow amongst his meat, or in some broth, the which will cause a marvellous effect. He will fall into a languishing, and fall away from day to day, so that in a month I shall be rid of him. Do not fear that any one shall be troubled therefore, the cause of his death will be attributed to his wound, upon the opinion that the Surgeons closed it up too soon. Consider how much this secret imports me; for having declared to thee, if thou deferrest the execution thereof, and that I do not see the effect of the powder which I put into thy hands in the time that it ought to operate, thy life shall suffer for it, and thou shalt pay for the fault of having disobeyed my will. The impatience I had to get out of the hands of this devil incarnate, obliged me to take the powder which he presented to me, and to assure him of my fidelity, praising God, that he had declared unto me these abominable intentions. Behold this diabolical powder, and I discover nakedly unto you, the damnable enterprises of this wicked man, assuring myself that your wit and prudence, will so ingeniously carry the business, that neither you nor myself run any danger. You ought to be the protector of my life, since that I show myself infidel to this Traitor, for the conservation of yours.  
At the end of this discourse I remained so confused, and so moved against this monster of abominations, that if I had been in case to have risen out of my bed, I had then attempted to do it, to go find this cursed man, and satisfy myself by his blood. But having passed this first motion of choler, I said to Glicere, that since that the effect of this venomous powder was so slow, that she must make him believe that I had taken it, and for my part I would seem to be indisposed, complaining to feel myself fall away every day, and that in the interim I would search means and occasion to catch this piper in the snares which he had laid for me. Glicere retired upon this assurance, and I had a desire to give this empoisoner the same venom which had prepared for me; but because the effect thereof was so slow, I feared that he should perceive the double intelligence of Glicere, and so his rage might cause him to serve her as he had done Fabrice, for not having executed his will; and again, that in taking the preservative against the powder, knowing the composition thereof, he might escape my hands, and find some other more ready invention to make me perish under his. I determined then to seek some other way to revenge myself, imagining with myself, that since that the term was thirty days, I should find one, wherein no one but himself should be in danger. During this long time which I had been deprived of the sight of Leonor, my health and love increased every moment. She who acknowledged herself my obliged, for the great service I had done her, wished also to know me, and to testify her thankfulness, she would willingly have sent me some message, but she was fearful to be esteemed light, not knowing what judgement I might make of this liberty. After having contended with these irresolutions, she laid all her fears on one side, and her love on another, but the last carried her beyond all considerations. She made me a compliment by a maid that served her, excusing herself for having been so negligent in sending to inquire of my health. Lucian saw her enter into my chamber, and envious of the honour which I received, remembered himself of his first design to ravish Leonor in the house of Don Ignigo, which made him observe the behaviour and words of the Maid; she afterwards told me, that her Mistress was extremely troubled in her very soul for the evil that was befallen me upon her occasion, and that she would esteem herself extremely happy to know the person to whom she was engaged for so great a benefit, as that was to have saved her from the fire, and from those that would have ravished her person; in fine that when I should be permitted to go abroad, if I would take the pains to visit her, I should be very welcome.  
These pleasant words ravished my soul by mine ears, mine eyes testified what joy I received thereby, and my tongue answered with courteous words, that the first time I should go abroad I would not fail to come kiss her hands and receive her commands. Two days after I executed this promise, went to salute this ravishing beauty, which heaven hath let me see again, this day, either to verify my narration, or to give me an incomparable joy, after three year's absence. I saw her then at her lodging, I discoursed with her, where I found the excellency of her wit, and gave up my soul to her which she shall possess as long as it shall be lawful for me to dispose thereof. In acknowledging my submissions, she was content that I should call her my mistress, keeping always the same respect towards her which I have done in your presence. Yet in time the access which I had to her grew so familiar, that one time I was so charmed with her conversation, and stayed so late with her, that the night surprised us before we thought thereof, for being together hours seemed but moments unto us, her Uncle at that time came out of the town, he had a custom to shut the door of his house in entering; and to keep the keys until the next morning, he did the same then, so that it was impossible for me to get out to the great displeasure of Leonor, fearing that I might be so rash as to attempt upon her honour, though she might have been well assured of the reverence I bore her, yet seeing herself forced by necessity, she was constrained to suffer me to stay in her chamber until the time was come I might descend by a cord from a Balcony window which was over the street; the time came of my departing from her lodging by this way. Leonor looked out of a window to see if there no body appeared that might discover me; she perceived two men to stand still in a corner, and told me that I might stay yet a little. She was in perpetual disquietness to get me out, doing nothing but go and come from the window to the place where I was▪ and putting her head a new into the street, she saw a third man with the two others, one of them having a lantern, they approached together, the house of Don Ignigo, & stayed at the cellar window, than one of the three begun with a crow of iron, to force and break the bars of iron wherewith it was shut whilst the other two kept the watch, looking all about if any one saw them, or if there passed any body that might hinder their enterprise. Leonor came presently to advertise me thereof, I came softly to the window, and saw that the grate was broken, & that they put down a ladder into the window, Leonor was upon the point of wakening all the household servants, but she was fearful I should be discovered, if peradventure the lodging should be searched, and also that finding her in her clothes at this hour, something might be suspected to her disadvantage Whilst we consulted of what was to be done, we● saw one of these men to descend by the ladder into the cellar, carrying in his hand a dark lantern shut, and the other stayed in the street to attend him then we persuaded ourselves that they were no● thiefs, and attributed this action to love, thinking that it was some servant to one of the Maids of the house: upon this imagination Leonor was a little more at quiet, esteeming that (provided that he● honour was safe) she ought not to torment herself with what others did, so we took patience without making noise; but presently after we heard one approach to our chamber, and put a key into the lock; thereupon I put out a candle which was within the chimney, to the end I might not be seen by the person which was entering, and prayed Leonor to take courage, and not to cry out, for if she did, she would undo herself and me also. Thereupon the door was opened, and we see the same man to enter, that had before gone down into the cellar with his lantern; I was then hidden under the Tapestry near the bed of Leonor, where she was laid down, who seemed to waken in starting, and to be ready to cry out. At the instant this unknown came to her, with his face masked, bidding her make no noise, nor awake any one, saying it was a robbery of honour which he would make, and that his love had engaged him to this enterprise. Leonor sat up, and laid her hands upon his stomach to put him back; no, no, said he, in embracing her, your resistance will serve to no purpose, you must either willingly or unwillingly adhere to my passion, or lose your life: The mask which covered his infamous face, could not so disguise his voice, but that I knew it was Lucian, and withal I remembered what Glicere had told me, so that full of wrath and indignation I cast myself upon him before he could put himself in defence, or know with whom he had to do: I plunged the blade of a great poniard into his breast, wherewith he was so surprised and frighted, that without staying for a second blow, he left his hold, and fled to the Balcony window, by the which I was to have gone out, and cast himself down into the street upon the pavement, almost dead with his hurt and fall, and all soiled with his blood. His two companions which attended him, seeing that there was a man fallen from that window, came to see who it was; and as they returned in the obscurity, they touched the tricker of a pistol which Lucian had hanging at his girdle, and which was so well directed, that it blew two bullets into the head of one of his confederates, which fell down dead by him, so paying for the charity which he had in being his Scout. The other seeing his companion so ill treated, believed that he which had leapt from the window, had used this stratagem for to kill them both by foul play, so that fearing to have the like misfortune with his Comrade, he fled hastily away.  
Seeing things in this estate, and the peril which we ran both of us; Leonor, if it should be discovered that the murder was done in her house, and I being known for the homicide, I resolved to warrant myself from all inconveniences, by absenting myself from Leride, and taking Leonor with me, for after the first fault a hundred others are committed. For this effect I went down from her chamber into the cellar, by which Lucian was got in; I went up the ladder into the street, drew it from the window, and fastened it to a cord which Leonor threw me from her window; then she fastened it to the cross bar of the window, which being done, she courageously descended, but we had not taken heed enough of the length, and fastening of the ladder, it wanted six or seven steps of touching the earth, so that Leonor fell this distance, and if I had not half received her in mine arms, I believe that the tomb of her youth and life would have been at the foot of this ladder; yet for all my catching her she hurt one of her feet against the pavement, so much that it was impossible for her to go one step. I leave you to think in what pain I was then; on the one side I had a spectacle of two dead men; on another a house broken; with these I found myself engaged to defend and assist a person which was so dear to me, and to whom I had so many obligations, and yet constrained to warrant myself from so many accusations that threatened me. I assure myself that the best wit would have been much confused amongst so many disgraces; for my part, I do avow that I found myself extremely amazed, and knew not what to resolve upon: one while I thought that the most convenient remedy for me was to leave Leride, but considering that I was unprovided of necessaries for a voyage, I changed my opinion. After a thousand various thoughts, I determined not to stir yet, until I saw what brute would be published of this strange success, and also we thought it expedient that Leonor should return into her chamber; the resolution was easy; but the execution very difficile, because of the hurt the had got in falling. I got the ladder again into the window, to the end she might pass by the same way that Lucian had made for us: But the poor Lady was extremely afflicted when she saw that she must go down a place so foul and slimy; yet seeing that there was a necessity, she took courage, I passed the first, and taking her upon my shoulders, went down the ladder, and carried her into her chamber; I represented unto her, that she ought not to apprehend any thing, although she should be accused of the death of these two men; on the contrary, this action would be esteemed most glorious, when the occasion should be known; nothing more lawful then to defend life and honour against those that would set upon them. Having thus resolved her, I took leave, and retired myself by the same way I descended. Before I went from this house, I came to the two dead men; I took the pistol from the girdle of Lucian, and put it into his hand, and did the same with the poniard to the other, to give cause of belief that they had killed one another; the invention succeeded happily enough, since that all that saw them were of that opinion. The Justices having employed above fifteen days to inform themselves of the fact, believed that the dead men had been their own proper murderers. During this time, Don Ignigo, Leonors Uncke, was taken with an apoplexy, which took him away in less than twenty four hours; and as one misfortune never cometh without company, two days after his death, a Burgois, one of my friends, came to advertise me, that a certain neighbour of Don Ignigos was extremely glad, as well of his decease, as of the occasion which he had to be revenged of his race, since he could be no more of his person, for an ancient injury which he said he had received from him; and after this troublesome beginning, he told him that Leonor had been the cause of the murdering of those two men, that she had made them to be slain by a Gentleman that courted her not long ago, and thereupon he named me, not knowing that the Burgois was my friend; that he had seen her descend from the window of her chamber, and me in the street to receive her into mine arms: in brief, finishing all the other particulars of our actions, he continued saying that he was determined to go and declare it to the Justice, for in so doing he should discharge his conscience, be the cause of the chastisement of the fault, and satisfy his vengeance, which was his principal passion. This Burgois, which knew the interest that I had in this proceeding, prudently showed him, that he ought to take heed what he enterprised; that he alone would not be believed, and besides he was much to be suspected, and reproachable, since that every one knew the old hatred which he bore to the house of Don Ignigo deceased. So it was that he moderated the motion of this accusator, to have leisure to advertise me thereof, and give me time to remedy these threaten; I thanked him for the good office which he had rendered me, and disguising the truth to him, made him believe that this neighbour was mistaken in me. As soon as this Burgois was gone from my lodging, at the time when the day begun to fail, I went to a Lady which was a friend to Leonor, and who knew that I served her, I desired her that she would use means that I might see her at her house the next day at the same hour; she promised it me, and performed it exactly. I saw Leonor, and told h●● the evil news which was told me, and the danger wherein this wicked neighbour pretended to put us, from whence it would be very hard to escape without absenting ourselves. For my part, had it not been for her consideration, I had already been out of the Town, and if that she would resolve to follow me, I would warrant her from all peril, retiring ourselves into some place where we might live contentedly, having already provided things necessary. But for to give her full assurance of the sincerity of my love, I promised her the faith of marriage, and swore to her never to require the accomplishment of my desires until my word was executed. Moreover, that her Uncle being deceased, she had more liberty to dispose of her person; and that her absence would not seem very strange, not being of that Country, it might be presumed that she would retire herself into her own, and to her own house.  
I employed so many favourable persuasions with those wherewith her interior love solicited her, that she consented to my proposition, under the secret assurances which I gave her, calling the Divine Majesty to witness, and beseeching it to be revenged upon me at the instant that I should violate them. Having received mine oaths, she promised me to be ready the next day to go whither I would carry her. In the interim, I provided a good nag for her, and took for myself an excellent 〈◊〉 strong Germane horse, and the hour appointed for our departure being come, which was in the evening, we went alone out of Leride without acquainting either man or maid servant; for it is almost a miracle when those people know a secret and do not reveal it. We took the way towards Valence, and for the first we lodged in a little hamlet out of the way for fear of being known, feigning to have lost our way, two days after we arrived in a very fair village by which I had passed before, distant from Valence about twenty miles, where we stayed some time, and were as well lodged and received as in our own country, for with silver Barbarians are tamed, and friends are bought every where; after some time we grew weary with this country conversation; I than had design to pass into Castille and communicated it unto Leonor: but she dissuaded me from it by the recital of the original of her absence from Toledo, and by the hate of any thing that might put her in mind of her brother. We had not yet resolved whither we would go, when I received letters from that Burgois of Leride, (to whom before our departure I had discovered the whole truth, of the action befallen in the house of Don Ignigo, and who hearkened after all things that was said thereof) whereby I learned that this revengeful neighbour, had declared all that he had seen, but too late for his vengeance, & that they searched after us by horse and foot; this troublesome news obliged me to leave the kingdom and go into Sicily; I made Leonor agree thereunto, to whom countries were natural if I was there, yet not telling her that was written unto me, for fear of disquieting her spirit, and changing her good humour. The occasion which invited me to go into Sicily, was that I had an uncle there, brother to my mother, whose high merits had got him the government of a port there, with whom I hoped to find security again those that sought after me, augmentation of my fortunes, and repose, to pass happily my time with Leonor. But whosoever grounds his felicity upon temporal things shall always find himself frustrate of his ends; we were no sooner embarked upon the sea, but we found ourselves in the hand of pirates, Turks, who in despite of our resistance, rendered themselves masters of our ship, our liberties and lives.  
They carried us to Algiers, where we were all separated one from another by the sale they made of our persons, to all those that presented themselves to buy us. I know not what became then of my deer Leonor, for me, I was sold to a Turk, one of the chiefest of the country, who having kept me some time, presented me to Selin King of Algiers, in quality of a slave of ransom, where I dwelled until this last night, in the middle whereof I heard a noise in the stable, I arose to see what it was, I found that it was two horses which fought together and furiously bitten one another. I came towards them to separate them, for it was my charge, my masters thinking that I was not capable of any other employment; but the great haste which I made hindered me from taking heed of a great hole which the horses had made with stamping with their feet, I went to put them in their places, and in going the earth failed under me, and feeling myself to fall, I unvoked the sacred name of Jesus, by whose merits I have found life in thinking to have fall'n into a gulf. Otherwise if I had not pronounced this high name and had recourse to his aid, it may be you had killed me, taking me for some Jew, Moor, or Turk; it is then from the virtue of this divine name, that I hold my life, liberty, and the glory to see again before mine eyes, that dear Leonor, always loving, and to whom before you, gentlemans, I renew the vows of my service promising her to accomplish when she pleaseth the faith of marriage which I have given her.  
At this last word these contented lovers begun again to continue their embracements, and talk together of their adventures, to the great contentment of the rest of the company, but the pleasures of the one, and of the others, lasted not long. They perceived afar off, a vessel to come towards them, in so great haste, that although they did all their endeavours to avoid it, it was impossible for them, so that it behoved them to quit the instruments of flight, and betake themselves to those of defence. Mahomet upon the instant made all the Turks put off their habits, and put them upon those which were habited like slaves, to the end that if the vessel was commanded by some pirate who was ignorant of their flight, he might let them pass without setting upon them, seeing them all in fashion of Turks, and conducted by him, who might make himself known. They gave arms to them who had none, that they might not be surprised in case that they must fight, as amongst others, to Don jame and the slave of Mahomet which he had brought along with him, in whom he much confided, who who was named Charles, a man of an advantageous proportion, and who seemed to be courageous Being then prepared the best they could to sustain the shock, this vessel which they feared approached them, they presently knew that it was the Pirate Nazouf, which came to fall upon them. He had order from Selin to employ all possible industry, for to bring them back alive to Algiers, as well for to chastise them, the more cruelly with long torments, as also to warrant Magdelene from the hurt that might otherwise arrive her, which was the cause why Nazouf used all his endeavours to board them without using fire, but he found more resistance than he imagined. Mahomet, Fenise, Don jame, and Charles, did marvels, they four alone defended a long time the entrance of their vessel: Frederick and the other captives which were in the vessel of Nazouf, when Fenise made himself master thereof, testified also much courage. The vessels were fastened together, & the heat of the combat, made the combatants of the one and the other vessel, pass it without thinking thereof, so that they were together pel mell, when they perceived another ship, who seeing them together came so near them, that all of them easily knew it. This was the ship of Roustan, which we have heretofore told you departed from Algiers, when Fenise took that Nazouf, and arrested him prisoner; Roustan was therein in person, who being known by both parties, was at the same time called by Mahomet, and by Nazouf to help them, being well assured that the party which he took would carry the victory. Nazouf cried out to him on on● side, that they had betrayed the King, and that they were fugitives; that Selin his Lord had chosen him to follow after them, being much interessed in his own particular, honour, and goods, that he might use more care & diligence to take them. Mahomet and Fenise cried out to him on the other side, that Nazouf had deceived the King, and that they were sent to take him again, he having violated his prison, and saved himself for fear of the punishment which he deserved; that he was a deceiver, and used this artifice to oblige him to assist him, and that he had best take heed of lending his hand to him, if he would not be declared a criminal to his Majesty. These last words had so much power over Roustan, that having considered the authority of those who spoke them, to whose offices belonged this action which they did; he regarded no more the reasons of Nazouf, on the contrary he boarded his vessel, and cried to him that he should render himself, as the rest also did which accompanied him; so that these confused voices, amazed and troubled so much the spirit of poor Nazouf, that without any further resistance, he was constrained to yield and give up his arms. Thereupon Mahomet and Fenise leapt into his vessel, saying that he must pass into theirs, that they might be the better assured of his person. Nazouf would not, seeming to be half mad at the foul play which was played him, not being able to defend himself therefrom 〈◊〉 nor so much as to make it known. Roustan seeing these violent contestations, saw that he was obliged to tell them that he would put him into his, which was instantly executed, contrary to the will of Fenise, who nevertheless durst not contradict ●t, for fear of giving some shadow to Roustan. Our Cavalier would willingly have had Nazouf under his hands, to have diminished the forces of his adversaries, but it was necessary for him to dissemble his discontent. Part of those who accompanied Fenise were very glad of the happy success of the stratagem, the rest were in care how to find means to separate themselves from Roustan, which pressed them all to return to Algiers, Nazouf consented willingly to the effects of this proposition, but Mahomet which feared the execution thereof, found an invention to tell him, that he must before visit a little Isle where the Pirate Nazouf had hidden the booty which he would deceive the King of. Thereupon Charles his slave came to him, praying him to join his ship to that of Roustans', that he might leap nimbly thereinto and poniard him. This resolution did not seem impertinent to Mahomet, judging, that if Charles could bring it about, they might easily render themselves Masters of the vessel, forasmuch as there was no other conductor. But as they were about to execute this conspiration, they discovered a Galley of Malta, as soon as the Cross was perceived by these Barbarians, a cold fear glided into their veins, which made them tremble; for (forasmuch as they are slaves to the devil) they tremble at the sight of the Cross. Fenise and Don jame feigned to be moved therewith, and to be in fear of meeting them; but in their souls they were ravished with joy, seeing that this was the happy sign of their good fortune. Mahomet made a show of fight with this Galley, reanimating the courage of Roustan, who considering the great booty they might make, being three vessels against one, took again his spirits which were strayed, with the apprehension he had, and disposed himself to attach this Galley. Who would not be astonished to see the force of covetousness upon the souls of these Barbarian Pirates, where the love of riches hath greater power, than the fear of losing their lives? Behold them then ready to go against this Galley, but with designs much different. They put before them the Ship wherein Nazouf was come, and the generous and brave Knights of Malta, seeing that they were Turkish vessels, prepared themselves to give them a brave reception, although they knew their force to be far inferior, as well because of their three vessels, as of the great number of Barbarians which exceeded theirs, but their courages and valour supplied this inequality. As soon as they saw them approach within Cannon shot, the Maltans' gave them a salute with two of their greatest pieces, which incontinently sunk their first vessel. Then Fenise took away their Turkish colours, where the Crescents and Halfmoons were, and put in their places Christian colours (as the Turks do sometimes to deceive the christians when they meet them upon their coasts) and adding to this sign the Castalian tongue, wherein the implored the grace & assistance of these knights, they made the effect of their artillery to cease. So that when Roustan knew the fault which he had committed, in not believing Nazouf, it was impossible for him to fly, or for to defend himself.  
Seeing himself in this extremity, and to take away the glory from the Knights of triumphing in his taking, and to exempt himself from the pain which he might receive in their hands, he commanded the bottom of his vessel to be pierced, and by little and little it made a hole into the sea in the presence of the Maltans', rather choosing to lose his goods and life, than to see himself a slave to those who had been at his mercy, if he would have believed Nazouf.  
The Knights were very sorry for the loss of this Conquest, but this sadness was lost in the joy which he received who commanded the Galley, when he knew Don jame his Nephew. This was that Uncle that he thought to have found in Sicily, as it hath been already said, who being newly honoured with the Knights of Saint john, went from Malta to Cartagene for an affair of great importance. Don jame extremely glad of this good fortune, after having embraced the knees of his Uncle, named those to him in whose company he was. Fenise and Frederick saluted him, and after a thousand actions of Grace, and as many testimonies of a generous rejoicing, they all entered into the Galley, and went to Cartagene, as well because it was the Port whither this Galley tended, as also not to be separated from the Knights that had delivered them from so notable a peril, because they feared to meet other dangers, from which they could not escape being alone.   
The End of the Third Book.   

THE FOURTH BOOK OF FENISE.  
THE Galley of the Knights of Malta took Port most happily at Cartagene, to the great pleasure of all that were therein, and particularly of Frederick, because he expected to there to see again a person with whom he hoped to find consolation the rest of his days; he also rejoiced, that he had brought again his dear Daughter to the place of her birth, and to see her served by Fenise, whom he esteemed to be one of the most accomplished Cavaliers of his Nation; and for that cause agreed with all his heart to the honest designs which he had for her. Leonor was also most contented, to find herself out of slavery, and near Don jame, as passionately in love with her as in the beginning of their affections. Mahomet on his side thought himself most happy to see himself in a country where he might easily perform the intention he had to become Christian and also to satisfy his desires in marrying euphemy. She also thought herself much bound unto him, for his honest proceed towards her whilst she was under his power. In brief every one of them was perfectly glad to be so miraculously escaped from the tyranny of the Barbarians, even Charles the slave of Mahomet felt his part of this felicity, seeing himself honoured and esteemed by all, as well for his generous actions as for the advantages which nature had put upon his countenance, which made him suspected to be of other birth, than what he had reported. They were all so strongly bound together in affection that they sound their separation extremely troublesome. The generous Frederick, considering that his house was spacious enough to receive them, invited them thereunto to repose themselves as long as they pleased. All those that could habited themselves after the Spanish fashion doing it before they came out of the vessel, for fear of being overthrown by the curiosity of the vulgar. The liberality of the knights was shown in this action in giving clothes to those who had need thereof. Every one of them as they descended kissed the earth of their dear country, they embraced one another, all acknowledging themselves to owe their liberty to the wit and courage of Fenise, who with courteous compliments thanked Frederick for the favour which he offered them, but was of advice that since that it was night that they might lodge together in an Inn, as strangers, that they might accommodate themselves the next day with all things necessary, to be civilly clothed before they made themselves known; besides it was expedient to inform themselves secretly of their proper affairs after so long absence. This proposition was approved by all the company, who took their leaves of the Uncle of Don James, assuring the other knights, that they would send them the next day the  which they had lent them; they left them their vessel to dispose of as they should think good, and having taken out their coffers and boxes wherein were the Jewels and other things, the most precious which were brought by Magdelene, Leonor, euphemy, & Mahomet, they went to that Inn which was nearest the port. The next day every one accommodated himself with what he had need of, and the night being come, Frederick prayed Fenise to do him the honour to accompany him to his house, and under pretext of demanding news of a Cavalier his kinsman, see if they could know him. In entering into the street he perceived some people who were before his house, he approached, and saw great light in the rooms which appeared through the windows, and also many persons which went in and out moved with joy. Then Frederick regarded Fenise without speaking a word, being extremely astonished from whence these testimonies of rejoicing should proceed, and desiring to be cleared therein, he informed himself by a man which came out of the house without a cloak, and who had the fashion to be one of the domestics. You know very little answered he, if you be ignorant, that the Widow of Seigneur Frederick is married again to day, since she is a Lady of great renown. Saying so, he briskly passed by, leaving Don Frederick in greater confusion than before. Then turning himself towards Fenise; Dear Friend, said he, what do you think of this answer? Is it possible that he speaketh truth? I doubt not of it, replied Fenise, nor you ought not to think it strange; for after an absence of fifteen years, which are passed since you were heard of, it is believed you are dead. I do not so much marvel at this accident, as I am troubled with the trouble we shall presently bring to the Feast, when you shall make yourself known, which we must go about to do wisely and promptly, for fear of a great disorder. You have more cause to praise Persinde than to blame her, since that he might have done this action sooner, without any scruple of conscience, and having attended until this time, she hath given you leisure to come to oppose the last execution. Frederick approving these judicious reasons, although he had his spirit much confused; they entered into the hall where the assembly was, covering their faces, to see secretly the countenance of the future Bride, and to know him which pretended to enter into the place of Frederick, they put themselves into a corner, standing upon a bench, where certain people looked over the heads of others. The first persons that Fenise cast his eyes upon, as being in the place most eminent, was Don Lovis his dear friend, he who was the unknown son of Frederick, and Leonard brother of euphemy the Cavalier, with whom he had made friendship, after they had fought together near Valence, as we have said before in the first book. They were near the one to the other, and with a Cavalier which Fenise could not see well enough to know, but whom he judged to be of great condition, as well by his rich habits, as also because he took place of the other two. Frederick nor Fenise knew not which was the pretended Bridegroom, they demanded of one of those that was mounted upon the bench near, who being as ignorant as they, shown them Don Lovis, saying that it was he, and that he was a stranger. Fenise was much astonished at this prodigious encounter, yet scarcely believed what this man had told him, because of the inequality of their ages; for he could not have more than twenty fix years, and the woman might not only have been his mother after the common manner of speaking, but was indeed truly so. Then he made a new experience of the virtue of Gold, which makes conformity amongst things where there is no proportion. In the interim Frederick ignorant of the thoughts of Fenise, raised himself upon his toes, attempting to see the pretended Widow, he saw a troop of Ladies set in a circle, but he could not distinguish his wife, because they were all so brave and shining with stones, then casting his eyes upon him they said should be her husband, he was astonished at his great youth; the more he considered all these things, the more he was filled with confusion; yet he said nothing, leaving the conduct of this affair to the prudence of Fenise, his spirit was moved with a thousand several propositions which he made to himself, to resolve how he should govern himself to declare the lawful impediment of this Marriage, without being the cause of some great dissension, which seemed to be inevitable in this business. In the end he found an invention to do it without scandal. He turned towards Frederick, and told him, that for to make this enterprise proceed happily, he would advise him to return to the Inn, to fetch the three Ladies who were there, making them take their best attires, and put their Mants upon them, (that is a great vail which the women have in Spain, which they carry upon their heads, which covereth all their bodies unto their heels;) also to pray Don James, and Don Geronime to accompany them, and if they would, to bring Charles with them, being of their company, and in the interim he would have a care to hinder the solemnity of the Marriage, if they went about it whilst he made this little voyage. Frederick, who had no other will but that of Fenise, whom he knew to be as much affectionated to his interests, as himself, went incontinently to satisfy his desire.  
Fenise seeing himself alone, would do an action of gallantry, which is esteemed in Spain upon such occasions: he glided behind the spectators, and came to the Violins, prayed them to look to his cloak and sword; then he put a piece of cypress before his face, entered into the middle of the Hall, and inviting the future Bride to dance, who did not refuse him, although he was unknown, caused a Galliard to be sounded, where he made himself admired in many things; for besides his being well clothed, his proportion, disposition, and action in this exercise, ravished the eyes and affections of all the Assembly, who died with desire to know who he was; at the end of the dance he let fall industriously his cypress, as if it had been against his will, and presently Don Lovis knew him. Never man had greater excess of joy without losing his life then this Cavalier then had; his speech failed him, but his arms expressed his gladness, he ran to embrace him, and held him locked unto his neck, until Leonard, who also knew him, came to take part of his contentment, testifying that he was almost angry that he had not possessed this felicity the first. Don Fenise knew not which of them to welcome the better, he looked upon them, and embraced them both at the same time, making them the most courteous and amiable demonstrations his heart could invent. After all these actions, he took them out of the middle of the Hall, and whilst the other Cavaliers and Dames of the Assembly were moved with this joy, and devising together, endeavouring to divine who it should be; he spoke and testified to these two friends the astonishment which he had to find them so happily at Cartagene, and at the hour of his arrival, at Feasts, and Nuptial Solemnities, which he esteemed (said he) as prodigious as joyful, for he yet believed that Don Lovis was to marry her who brought him into the World. To bring in the discourse which he had to hold him, he prayed Leonard to permit him to entertain Don Lovis in particular, and when he was retired, he made him this discourse. I believe that you are not ignorant that you are in the house of your Father; this is it that hath given me an impatient desire to know by what means you came to the knowledge thereof. At these words Don Lovis made a gesture of admiration, which was followed with this discourse. My dear Fenise, that which you tell me, filleth me with as great aftonishment, as your presence with joy, so that although we have neither place nor time proper to make long discourses, yet I have so great a desire to hear you explicate yourself more clearly, that for to oblige you thereunto, I will presently satisfy your demand.  
About two months after you was departed from Valence, being revenged of the treachery of Don Jovan, I went to Barcelone, with intention to learn news of Hipolite, and see if there was means to remedy her sickness; two days after my arrival, I learned of our friend Octave, that her indisposition amended every day. These news animated my hopes and affections. Octave being willing to show me the testimonies of the passion which this Lady had for me, let me see the walls of the chamber where she was, all scored with our Characters, and my name which she had graven thereupon with her hand; from thence he carried me near her bed, and as soon as she perceived me, one might see joy called again into her countenance, where melancholy had reigned before, and from thence, with a few visits her wits came again into the best estate they had been ever seen in; so that as I had been the cause of their alienation, I was also the cause of her curing. After the decease of her father, the administration of his goods was given to one of her Uncles, called Roderigue, which is the Cavalier which you see se● by our friend Leonard; and then Vincence, seeing Hipolite in perfect health, begun again the pursuit of his pretensions; you know of whom I speak, having given you knowledge enough thereof, when I told you of the beginning of my flames. He addressed himself to Roderigue, and demanded his Niece in marriage for the second time; she, who had then more liberty, then in the life time of her Father, understanding that he went about to have her whether she would or no, answered very resolutely, that no man should ever attain thereunto but myself. This answer being reported to Vincence, wakened his indignation, and caused him to conspire against my life. Having advise thereof, I had a design to prevent him, but my friends coming to the knowledge of it, knew so well how to persuade me, that following their counsels, I should absent myself for some time, saying, that it was not for her honour, and since that I was assured of Hipolite, they would order the time for our Marriage, whereby I should have much more glory over mine enemy, then if I had the contentment of my revenge, since that I must be forced to leave the Kingdom, and so lose the hope of en joying my desires. I asked Hipolites opinion, who approved the counsel that was given me, and following her consentment, I retired myself into a Village near Valence, from whence I went disguised to visit her, during the obscurity of the night. Don Roderigue durst not content the affections of his Niece, for fear of falling at odds, not only with Vincence, but also with all his kindred. Yet after a little time he determined to come into this town, where he hath a cousin married, and to bring Hipolite with him, to give us both the recompense due to our pains. The execution of thi● project was long time prolonged, since that ther● is two years and a half that I have languished in expectation thereof. I know not whether or no h● did it expressly, to give leisure to time to make dy● the passions of Vincence, or mine; but being upon the point of despair, I heard news which comforted me wonderfully. It is not much above fifteen● days, that I was told that his cousin had made a match betwixt him and a widow her friend, called Persinde, a woman of most virtuous reputation that is she which you see there in the midst of th● other Ladies; and having known me so perseverant in the service of his Niece, he desired that hi● marriage and mine might be celebrated upon th● same day. And to let you judge whether the object, of my love be worthy of so great constancy, look upon that Lady which you see to have th● Posy of Diamonds upon her head, that is my Mistress. See what hath brought me into this town, and made me desire the Seigneur Leonard to participate of my contentments, and assist me to celebrate them. I hope we shall be married this night, you being present, as for the rest I cannot express the joy that environes my heart, for that Heaven hath conduced you hither to honour me with your assistance. Now it is your part to interpret the aenigma which you gave me to divine at our meeting. God be praised, answered Fenise, you have delivered me from a great disquietness, I was told in coming into this house, that you was about to marry the widow, a thing which I found little convenient, by reason of the inequality ofyour age and hers. And very strange by a history I will tell you, at the recall whereof this Cavalier which pretends to marry her this night, will understand that he cannot do it, she being no widow, as it is thought, since that I will make you presently see her lawful husband living, as well as you or I, and by the same means you shall see your father and mother, of whom you never had yet knowledge. Oh God my dear Fenise, what do you tell me! ●yed out Don Lovis, ah, what do you make me languish in expecting your explication? Saying so, he spoke so loud, that the greatest part of the assembly turned to cast their eyes upon them, fea●ing that they had quarrelled. Leonard came to them again, to know from whence proceeded this exclamation. Come, come, said Fenise to him, you have interest in the discourse which I have made to Don Lovis, and having obliged them both to a cutions attention, he continued to make the recital of his fortunes, from the day that he embarked himself at Livorne, until that of his arrival at Cartagene. As he ended his discourse, he perceived Frederick which lead the Ladies, with the Gentlemen strangers, he feigned to have occasion to speak to one of his men which attended him at the door, and came to them, leaving Don Lovis and Leonard looking one upon another without motion or words, with the excess of the astonishment which he had put them in. Don Rodrigue came to waken them from this ecstasy, and seeing their countenances a little altered, believed that this Gentleman stranger had told them something which troubled them: he asked them whither he was gone, and why they seemed to be so melancholic; and then they briefly told him a part of that which Fenise had said, and so made him partake of their astonishment, and prepared him to see a strange change of the success which he hope for. Thereupon Fenise advanced, leading the three Graces with him, in the persons of Magdelene, Leonor, and euphemy, followed by Frederick, Don jame, Geronime, and Charles; all the company were mute, considering for what cause this troop o● unknown people were come into this assembly Some thought that they were some Mascarads; bu● Fenise in lifting up the Mantles of the Ladies, presented Magdelene and Frederick to Persinde, the on● for Daughter, & the other for Husband, & Eufemi● to Leonard in quality of sister. After that he took Do● Lovis by the hand, & put him in the middle amongst Frederick Persinde and Magdelene giving him at this instant, a father, mother, and sister; this happy meeting, filled the whole company with this astonishment and gladness together: there was nothing but acclamations of gladness, embracements, transports, and ravishments of joy. It seemed that amongst all these felicities there was none but Don Rodrigue which ought not to be contented, but being in an age, wherein the greatest flames of love were dead, his prudence made him find contentment in the pleasures of others, that of Don Lovis was without measure, for besides the good fortune which heaven had favoured him withal, in letting him know those who had given him birth, he also enjoyed his loves in the possession of fair Hipolite. They were married that night, and the wedding accomplished with astonishment and rejoicings incomparable; it was followed with a new joy, in the conquest of a soul, which they took from the empire of the Devil, to put it into the hands of God, by the means of holy baptism which Geronime the Turk, heretofore called Mahomet solemnly received from the hands of the Bishop of Cartagene, having chosen for Godfather the venerable Don Rodrique, who was entreated to give him the name of Geronime, which he had taken before. The next day he married the infortunate euphemy; she being the cause of the health of his soul, not being willing to consent to his desires, but in making him christian, and he of the reestablishment of her honour, which seemed to have been torn in pieces in the courtesans life whereunto she had been abandoned, and engaged by the baseness and infamy of her ravisher. This was a particular contentment for Leonor to see his sister so advantageously provided for after so many disgraces. Incontinently after was the wedding of Don jame, and the virtuous and generous Leonor, who in acknowledgement of the obligations which she had to Fenise, pardoned him the death of her brother.  
More than fifteen days were employed in these joyous magnificences, where the most remarkable persons of the province were, and the best wits exercised themselves to write upon the admirable encounters of these persons, and of their affections. But as there is no pleasure eternal in this world, this loving troop must be divided, some stayed at Cartagene, others went to Valence their country, and Don James took the way to Leride, whereof he was native. Fenise was only he of this company, who made a more troublesome experience, of the instability of worldly felicity. After the sports and plays whereof he had but a simple part, he must undergo alone, the sadness and sorrow of the death of his father, deceased long ago. Don Lovis was much troubled to take a time to advertise him thereof, since that, besides the loss which he had made in his person, he was yet in danger to lose his estate, or at the least to see much of it diminished, because his kindred believing him to be dead, were possessed thereof, and had distributed it amongst them. Don Lovis used much discretion to dispose his spirit to receive sweetly these bitter news, but he had scarcely begun his premeditated discourse, when Fenise who was extremely foreseeing, well knew to what end it tended and to avoid prolixity of words, he prevented him with these; I see well said he, that you would sugar the edge of the cup, to make me swallow some bitter poison, but you know me too well to use me with this ceremony and hold me in suspense for to declare to me what imports me. Then Don Lovis discovered nakedly unto him, all he knew, and although that Fenise had much experience and constancy, yet his eyes must testify the feeling of his heart, the loss of a father is a grief too sensible, he ought to have a breast of a rock, that will not be mollified therewith, or at the least to have desired his death. Don Louis comforted him in taking part of his sorrow, after that he had suffered, the first motions of sadness, his friend pressed him to remedy the disorders of of his house. This solicitation afflicted him almost as much as the news of the death of his father, he could scarcely resolve to do it, nor believe the counsels of Don Lovis, because he must necessarily absent himself from himself in going from Magdelene. So that he deferred his departure from day to day, until that his friend was constrained to tell him that he knew well from whence proceeded his delays; for Frederick his father had recounted to him the honest suit which he made to his sister, and how much they were all obliged to his wit and courage, he prayed him, not to lose time in recovering his estate, and to assure himself to obtain all he could desire, not only from him his sister, but also from their whole family, who reputed it a great honour in the design which he had to convert his amity into kindred; that he knew well that Magdelene made great esteem of his merits, besides the obligation which she had for her liberty, that she would always prefer him before all the men in the world, and that he should never have cause to reproach him of the vice of ingratitude; these promises were confirmed to him, by the compliments and civilities of Frederick and Persinde, and by the solemn oaths which Magdelene made him in particular, in conjuring him with tears in her eyes to return as soon as he could possible, & that he should find her always constant and always loving; these actions were so charming that Fenise wanted not much of breaking his design of going to Toledo, but the satisfaction which he was willing to give his friends, forced him to execute it. The day before his departure Frederick let him see a country house of pleasure which he had near Cartagene, where treating him magnifically, he begun to qualify him with the name of son in law, to the great contentment of the whole family. He took leave of them in this place, with a thousand embracements and towards the evening Don Lovis returned with him into the town, at the entry of the port they saw Charles, the slave that Geronime had brought with him, walking with a Cavalier very well covered, and followed by six Lackeys clothed in the same livery: the two future brothers in law approached them, and Fenise knew that it was Don Antonio de Velazques a cavalier of the court, who had been his familiar friend, he also having faced him and known him, they ran one to the other, and locked themselves together for some time with straight embrace. Charles admiring this great testimony of affection, and seeing they were parted, Brother, said he to Antonio, if you have embraced this illustrious Cavalier as your friend, I beseech you begin again, as my benefactor, and him of whom I hold my liberty: it is the person I have but now praised unto you, and to whom I shall be always obliged for my life. I could scarcely believe, said Don Antonio to Fenise, the marvels which he hath told me, but at the present, since that I see it was of you that he spoke, I am in less admiration, knowing that you can produce none but high actions. Fenise made many humble compliments to answer these high praises, and all their courteous ceremonies being finished, he prayed Don Antonio to tell him upon what occasion he had left Madrid to come to Cartagene, which he courteously did. He told him then that having learned that his brother Charles was a slave at Algiers, he was come to Cartagene to treat of his ransom, but that thanks be to God and his industry, (speaking to Fenise) he had found him when he expected him the least, and that having no other business he was ready to return to Madrid. Thereupon they all entered into the town, where Don Lovis shown how he honoured him, in offering him bis fathers house, to the which he would have carried him, but after a thousand thanks, he went to his Inn with Charles his brother, to whom Fenise made an infinite of of submissions, demanding his pardon for not having treated him with that respect which was due to him, praying him in fine to excuse his ignorance. Our Cavalier was advised by Don Lovis not to lose the occasion of so good company, and to go with them, since that they all went the same way, this resolution pleased very well Don Antonio, which they put in execution the next day; they entertained themselves upon the way with many discourses to divert the trouble and tedioushesse of the voyage, and in talking together they fell upon this discourse of marriage, saying that it was necessary for every one, to take a party conformable to his disposition, equal to his quality, & agreeable to his inclinations, which gave subject to Fenise, to demand of Don Antonio, what success his amorous passion had, which he had when he absented himself so long time from Madrid; since that you know the birth thereof, answered Antonio, I cannot excuse myself from relating unto you, the divers accidents thereof, whereby you shall see the most rare and strange history, that hath been ever heard of. If peradventure I tell you some circumstances which you already know, it shall be for want of memory, or that I shall judge it necessary to the weaving of my discourse, that if I have named this history strange and rare, I assure myself that you taking the pains to hearken to it with attention, will yourself repute it, alone, and prodigious.  

THE HISTORY OF DON ANTONIO.  
MAdrid our Country, a town recommendable for a thousand divers considerations; wholesome by the good temperature of the air; pleasant for the fair situation, and illustrious for its admirable structures and aedifices, was almost at the same time the cradle and tomb of a Cavalier, rich in the gifts of nature, and enough gratified with the goods of Fortune, his name was Don Fernand de Figueroa. Of twenty three years which he lived, he passed two in marriage with a Lady of less age than himself, but equal in quality. He left his dear wife a widow as full of hopes, being ready to lie down, as charged with troubles for his loss, which was so sensible to her, and her sorrow so violent, that she was delivered some days before her term. Eugenie, so was this Lady called, brought into the world an enemy of liberty, in a daughter perfectly fair, and a lively portrait of her dead husband, in a son accomplished with all that he could bring from his birth. They were presently carried to nurses, which were chosen in the villages near Madrid, and who took upon them to give them necessary nourishment: poverty or profit excite often times persons to sell their proper blood. These twins arrived at Faith by the port of sacred Baptism; the son was called after his Father, to the end he might inherit his name, as well as other things, and the sister had to name Charity, it may be by mystery, or to express the graces wherewith she was so liberally stored. The Nurses pleased themselves in taking care of them, and to exercise themselves with emulation, as well to keep them neatly, as to nourish them; in a word, they cherished them more than their proper children. A family cannot be said unhappy, it it suffer not many disasters; for it seemeth that the first misfortune is the harbinger that comes to prepare a lodging for another, as may be well seen by this success, since that the infortunate youth of Fernand, and his loss served as an Adamant to draw misfortune into his house. About two months after the birth of these little ones, one of the Nurses had news that her husband was in great extremity of sickness, and that they feared every hour that he should die. Conjugal amity solicited her on one side to go have a care of her husband, on the other fide her duty and fear to lose the recompense she hoped to have for her good service, hindered her from quitting her place; and leaving this house liberal and abundant in riches. Tossed with these two contrary considerations, her rustic judgement took a mean, or to say better, an unhappy end for herself. One afternoon towards the evening, she asked leave to go see one of her kindred, and as it is not usual to refuse to such kind of persons what they demanded; for fear of angering them, and altering the purity of their milk, she easily obtained leave, she went out, carrying in her arms the little child, having before taken order to find at the gate of the town the commodity of a cart that returned from the Market held that day at Madrid, from whence there was but two miles unto her village. She found her husband less sick in his bed then in his imagination; and to the end that it might not be perceived that she went so fare, she resolved to return presently, and immediately executed it, not as she came, but on foot, and alone, the better to hid her fault, carrying the child asleep in her arms; her judgement mistook the time of the day, the night surprised her in the way, and coming to the corner of a hedge, two men came to her, to take from her the packet which she carried; for the obscurity hindered them from distinguishing what it was: she begun to cry and call for help, and because there were houses near thereunto, these two men fearing to be taken, gave her two stabs into the throat with a poniard, and took from her that which she held in her arms, leaving this unfortunate woman upon the ground, miserably dying. This little infant was no sooner in their hands but he awaked, and begun to cry. They much astonished to see their hopes of a booty frustrate, were not yet so barbarous as to hurt him, his tenderness served him as a Sanctuary, and his innocence for protection. They fled from this place, for fear of being taken for Murderers, carrying this infant unto another village out of the way, giving it to a poor woman, making her believe, to oblige her to receive it, that it appertained to a Lady of great condition, whose deliverance was kept secret, and the necessity of the secret had constrained them to bring it to her in this estate, as for the rest, that she should have care thereof, and that she should have given her whatsoever she should demand.  
What is it which profit doth not in imaginatition? this woman received it tenderly, hoping for the promised hire, made her affection increase, which was the more warmed by the loss of another little child, which was dead a little before, so that happily she had wherewith to continue his first nutriture. The ignorance of his true name, and her desire to deceive her memory, made her give him the name of her son, and attempting to put him in his place, she called him Antony. At the beginning she was impatient to know his parents, but afterward she desired that no body would avow him, for fear he should be taken out of her arms. In the interim his true mother ceased not to weep, having known the accident happened to her nurse, she easily persuaded herself, that he had served for a fair trophy to the triumph of death, and that some beast had devoured him; it is common to the fearful to believe all which their imaginations propose horrible.  
Nature, which discovers the birth by the inclinations, giving desires to every one according to the quality of his blood, had not less foresight for Don Fernand, then for other humans, we will call this child so in the continuance of this discourse, since that it is his true name. Although he was rustically brought up, he did not forbear to do actions which gave notice of the place from whence he was issued. From his infancy, his ordinary sports was to assemble the little boys of the Village, arm them with staves in fashion of swords and pikes, then putting himself in the head of them, made them march against some place defended by others, which they set upon, and so naturally begun to give himself to military exercise. Having attained to twelve years of age, he left the Village, and went to the Court. The King had at that time created four Regiments to send into Flaunders, whereof one of my Uncles, my Father's Brother, had the first. This little boy presented himself to him, demanding to serve him; my Uncle considered his little resolute countenance, his proportion and boldness; found him so pretty, that he brought him to my Father's house, to the which he was much affected; from the beginning he made him be clothed otherwise then he had yet been, and after this change of clothes, he immediately changed his manners and fashion of life, so that within a little time, he became so different from what he was when he came to our house, that he knew not himself, making all to admire the truth of this proverb, Honours change manners. All the whole house much esteemed him; he had sweetness in his face, and mildness in his actions, which rendered him pleasant to the eyes of all; we two loved one another passionately, the equality of years is a strong mediatrix of love; we were of the same age and height; we went always together to our exercises, whether of body or mind; we learned the latin tongue at the same time, (a science very proper for Gentlemen, and Princes; which forms the memory, perfects discourse, and teacheth them eloquence, which charms the hearts of the most barbarous.) And his spirit was so disposed to learning, that there was none could win the prize from him in the whole Academy; he left all behind him, which made him to be beloved of the Master, and envied of the scholars; he had done there wonders, if his inclination had not carried him to another kind of life. At that time my Uncle was ready to departed with his Regiment into Flanders, and Fernand having news thereof, employed all his little industry to oblige him to take him with him, so that mine Uncle, to content his generous desire, condescended thereunto. Two years after the departure of mine Uncle, my Father had a burning Fever, which carried him to his grave, to render the tribute which all mortals own to nature. All our Line was much grieved thereat, but it lasted not long, principally for my part, I seeing myself installed in my birthright, and in the possession of a great estate, if I shed tears at my Father's death, they were rather of joy then sadness, or for that he had no sooner left me his succession: humane malice lets us now see many children of so ill dispositions; and it is not long ago since I heard a young Lord say, being in an assembly six steps from his Father, that when children had once passed twenty years, their Fathers did but trouble them. After the year of exterior mourning, I begun to appear rather by my ▪ than my virtues; I was clothed with habits, and feathers in my hat, of all the rare colours which could be found, a vanity wherewith youth is ordinarily carried away.  
Charity, the Sister of Don Fernand, was then of mine age, and fair as they paint an Angel; her discourses were so much above the ablest of her sex, that adding the divine qualities of her wit, with the lustre and attractions of her countenance, one knew not what judgement to make thereof, since that any of them did figure her more than mortal. Those that would have doubted of her nobleness and virtue, might draw witnesses thereof from the majesty of her carriage, and the recluse life which she lead. She was known to none but the servants of the house, and went abroad but very rarely, and in a Coach, and yet was she wrapped in a mantle, so well, that but a shadow of her person could be seen. Her house was not far from mine, and one day of great devotion, for the respect of the feast, I found place to see her come out of her house on foot, accompanying her mother: They went together, followed by two Gentlewomen, to visit the Churches, and d● the actions of christian mortification, for it was the day wherein was represented the tragedy of ●ur redemption, and wherein the author of life died for the safety of all men. I followed them discreetly rather to satisfy curiosity, than devotion. She went softly, leaning upon the arm of one of her servants, and in the mean while I considered the beauty of her proportion. Charity inconstantly perceived my actions and intentions, which obliged her t● consider by stealth my person and ●●●●●●on: For although a woman will not love, yet she taketh pleasure to see herself beloved. I know not whether or no she found something in me that pleased her; but either by artifice or otherwise, she permitted by her mantle a beam of her eyes to shine upon my face which lasted no longer than a lightning, I never saw a more ravishing beauty, and from that instant I remained so charmed that for a long time I was insensible. At the end of this ecstasy I continued to follow after the shadow of this Sun, and conducted her with mine eye unto the door of her house, from thence I returned home my spirit troubled with a thousand confusions, one while forming a design to declare unto her the acquisition which she had made of my liberty, and another while imagining that this conquest, was no great glory to her, my humility rendered me fearful. In these irresolutions I could not hinder myself from making rounds and walks about her house, endeavouring to see her sometimes at the windows, this issued very happily, yet after having passed much time therein, almost a whole month was employed before I could enjoy a little light of this star. In the end, not for to trouble you with the recital of the pains I took to get acquainted with her, I will tell you that I persevered so constantly in this passion, and rendered her such certain testimonies thereof, that after having seen my flames painted by my writing, she had pity thereof, or to say better she felt the heat thereof. There are not many women, how cruel so ever they be, that having harkened to the plaints of a lover, do not compassionate his grief, and assay to give him ease. A love which draws nourishment from two breasts of an infant presently becometh a giant. At the end of two years ours arrived at so so perfect a grandeur, and Charity knew me so loyal, that she promised me the last favour upon my word, I engaged to her my faith in calling to witness the celestial powers to marry her when she pleased, and with this assurance she consented to accomplishment of my desires the night following; moments seemed ages in expecting the hour she had given me, the day seemed to be eternal, or that a new Joshua had stayed the Sun, but in the end light gave place to darkness; and then, as a generous courage called to fight, endeavours to be the first at the place appointed, so I being called to this amorous duel; desiring to testify my valour, I came before the hour given, and rendered myself in a certain place under the windows of Charity, as she had appointed me. She who kept Seminell seeing me come so soon called me softly, and prayed me to retire until her mother was in bed, for fear that in expecting too long time, I might be perceived by some curious person who might trouble our design. I found her counsel very judicious, and executed it upon the instant, exercising the virtue of patience without any merit.  
Fernand had been in Flanders with mine uncle eight years, and some months, where he had in the hazards of war rendered a thousand good testimonies, of his birth and valour, to the great advantage of this Monarchy, when mine uncle his master of the camp sent him to Madrid, with many letter● addressed to his friends, and great persons of the court, in commendation of the merits of Fernand, who besides these favourable letters brought scars upon his body, which served for faithful attestations of his generosity; he arrived that very night, and went to lodge with some young gentlemen, who were come from Flanders a little before him, and who were at the court, pretending as he himself did recompenses of their services, they received him very courteously, and feasted him, but after supper which was thus very late, it was impossible for him to go to bed without seeing me. Desiring then to satisfy this impatient desire, he quitted his company to come seek me; for besides his particular affection, that solicited him thereunto, he had letters for me from mine uncle.  
The assignation which I had made with Charity was the cause that he found me not at home▪ which obliged him to return to his lodging, which to do, he must necessarily pass before Charity's house, as he did, and just at the favourable moment I was expected, and that all the domestics were asleep. The proportion of Fernand, the obscurity of the night, the motion of the lover, the apprehension of shame, the fear of scandal, accompanied with strong imaginations which represent oftentimes to our intellects, the objects we desire, troubled so much poor Charity, that seeing Don Fernand approach, she believed it was I, and then without other ceremony, or longer attending she threw him down a key wrapped in her handkerchief, and bade him open the door and enter presently; Don Fernand was so surprised, that he knew not whether it was a dream, or an illusion; but having taken up the handkerchief and found the key to open the door, as he was bidden, he knew that it was a reality and ●udged that he was taken for another. He stayed a little consulting with himself, if he should prov● this adventure to enter into this unknown house or to keep on his way, but thinking it cowardliness to doubt if he should enter, he resolved to adhere to the summons, and hazard the success thereof. He approached and opened the door, than put i● too simply without locking of it that he might go● out again the more easily if there was occasion, he crossed a great court, and entered into a hall, which Charite had opened, to let me come up to her chamber which was the first story high, finding himself there in the dark and meeting no body, he knew not what to do or say: if he went on he knew not whither he went, and if he should speak he feared to be heard; in brief he was in so great confusion, that he knew not what to do: immediately after these irresolutions had ceased upon his spirit, I whom love called to the recompense of of my pains came to the street door, I thrust it softly, and seeing that it yielded to me, and opened so easily, I believed that it was the providence of Charity which had left it open, to the end that I might enter without noise.  
Antonio broke off this discourse at this place, because they arrived at their lodging for that night, referring the rest until the next morning, that this history might serve them for divertisement, against the tediousness of the way; these three friends arrived that night in the town of Mourcia, where 〈◊〉 ●●ey were scarcely entered into their cham●●●, when they heard a rumour in the court of the Inn which their window regarded. Fenise looked to see what it was, and saw three men with their swords in their hands, who had environed another, who defended himself generously. Fenise took his sword and ran incontinently to assist him, or to take up the quarrel; but at soon as the others saw their adversary assisted they retired themselves, seeming to be contented, to proceed no further. Our Cavalier having disengaged this stranger from the danger he was in, carried him into his chamber where Antonio was, where he was known for his ●osen and Fenise his friend; this was the Cavalier of Valence, called Marcel of whom we have heretofore spoken in the first and second books. They were all, extremely glad to meet so happily, and that they went all the same way, for Marcel went also to Toledo. They asked him from whence proceeded this quarrel, and who were these three men: he answered that they were Merchants, and that he was angered with an uncivil word, that they had spoken to him in alighting; and that he would have his horse put in the stable in the plac● where one of theirs stood; saying so the three Merchants came to demand his pardon for their insolence, excusing themselves in not knowing his quality, and so the peace was made, and every one passed the night in repose: the next day they continued their voyage. Being out of the town. Fenise prayed Marcell to tell him for what cause he went to Toledo● who desiring to  his curiosity, said thus. Your absence is the cause that you are ignorant that I am married in that town to a cousin of Seig●e●● 〈◊〉 Antonio's. This alliance was treated of betwixt 〈◊〉 kindred and mine at my return from Italy, whither I went incontinently after you, and I took leave one of the other; I esteem myself so happy in this condition, that one may say that God had reserved us, to unite us together, our affections and wills are so conformable. It may be you desire to know wherefore I have made this voyage to Cartagene from whence I come as well as you: the subject thereof is prodigious, I will tell it you by the way, and assure myself that you heard the like never spoken of, for it is rare. We will put you in mind of it said Charles, when my brother hath finished the history which he hath begun, than Antonio seeing that they all concurred in the same desire, begun again his discourse in this manner. Since that Seigneur Marcel hath so often heard it recounted, it is not necessary to say again what I have already told you, I will begin again only where I left.  
As I entered then into this hall, Don Fernand heard me, better than he saw me, he retired aside, for fear of being met, and put himself in a corner near the door of the stairs which went to the chamber of Charity. I who thought to go in security, and who knew well the lodging, went right to the stairs, Fernand who perceived me to approach, drew a Poniard which he wore at his girdle, thinking I was some of the household servants, or some neighbour that had seen him enter, who counterfeiting the ignorant would surprise him, and chastise him for his rashness, so that as I came to pass by him, he fell upon me, and gave me two stabs with the poniard, the one upon the other, which (if I had not had on a Buffcoat which hindered the iron from entering fare) had killed me upon the instant, I fell nevertheless at his feet, all bloody, and in a swound, and at the same instant he got the door and fled. In the interim Charity attended, and seeing so much delay, she believed that I could not find the stairs of her chamber. In this opinion, she took a little Wax candle, and came down softly where I was; at the first she saw me along upon the ground, but not knowing what this should signify, she came nearer, and found the dear object of her passions almost in the like condition, as heretofore Venus her lover hurt by a wild Boar. I cannot represent unto you what grief surprised at that time poor Charity, it is easier for you to imagine it, than me to express it. She presently judged, that her mother having discovered our secret intelligences, had begun her vengeance upon me, which she would finish upon her. This false opinion made so strong an impression upon her spirits, and fear possessed her so powerfully, that she thought she saw nothing about her but the images of death. In fine she suffered herself to be so extremely troubled with these panic fears, that it was impossible for her to take any good resolution. Without regarding her condition, without respect of her honour, or consideration of the danger whereunto she exposed herself, she at that instant left the house, accompanied only with misfortunes, and adorned with the jewels which she ordinarily wore, which were, a cross of Diamonds, which she wore upon her breast, two Pearls like Pears, which hung in her ears, and a Garland of gold, Emerauds and Rubies, which she had about her hair. Thus desolate she crossed the whole Town of Madrid, and went to the last houses which are towards the Meadows of St. jeronime, where the walks and projects of Lovers and Courtesans are made. Having put up her stones into her pocket, she entered without choice or consideration into the house of a poor woman, not being able to go further, because the day, which begun to break, might have discovered her.  
All this while I remained in the estate and place where Charity had found me, until the rising of a servant, who coming to make clean the hall, as she did every day, perceived at the entry thereof a body which she believed to be dead; affrighted with this spectacle, she went to the chamber of her Mistress, the mother of Charity, telling her more with astonishment than words what she had seen. This Lady alarmed with this accident, rose, and made all her servants to be called, who ran all to me at the same time; they took me from the ground, and laid me upon a bed, and in the doubt wherein they were, whether I was dead or alive, sent presently for a Chirurgeon, in expecting him, none of them knowing what to do to me, they heated linen  towarme me, and cast water in my face, to waken my spirits if I were swooned: in fine, amongst all these accurable diligences, they were put out of the pain wherein they were, seeing me make a great sigh, which testified unto them that I was yet living. Thereupon the Chirurgeon arrived, he looked upon my wounds, and putting the first plaster thereupon, stayed the little blood that refted in my veins. When my strength was a little come unto me, I prayed Eugenie, that I might be carried into my lodging, conjuring her not to afflict herself, nor to be troubled for my disgrace; for although I was ignorant of whom I had received it, I did not forbear to assure her that all her domestics were innocent. She enquired of me how this misfortune had arrived me in her house; but not knowing what to answer her, I feigned that my pain hindered me from speaking, as in truth it was very sensible; the Chirurgeon accommodated himself to my necessity, told her that I ought not to speak; by this means I avoided my troublesome examination, and was carried home. This good Lady extremely troubled with this scandal, went up to Charity's chamber, doubting that she knew something of this misfortune, but the first displeasure was followed with an affliction much more cruel; she saw the door open, and the chamber void of that she thought to find therein. They called Charity, they sought her through all the house, but they knew not what was become of her; and when they had told Eugenie that those who went to fetch the Chirurgeon had found the street door open, this poor Lady fell into a fearful despair, she tore her hair, and rend her garments, and made clamours which touched with grief the most insensible. She studied to find out conjectures of these prodigious events, but amongst all her thoughts, she could find nothing but fears and confusions. Oh unhappy destiny, cried she, with force of torment, art not thou content with the misfortunes which thou hast made me already suffer, must yet my heart be tormented with so bitter a wound, is it necessary, that after the loss of the splendour of our house, and the sweetness of my life, in the person of my husband, which was ravished from me almost as soon as heaven had given him to me, and after the loss of a son, which remained for my comfort and stay, that I must be defamed in honour and reputation by the Rape of a daughter, whose pretence and company were so dear to me? But what, for the last loss I can reprove no body but myself! I am the cause of this infamous disaster, having too much adhered to her will, and using too much mildness in reproving her foolish desires, now I am exposed to the opprobry of all women of my condition, abandoned to the last attempts of misfortune, and overwhelmed with extreme misery. Suffer then my soul since thou hast wanted prudence in the conduct of Charity; and you mine eyes blind yourselves with weeping, since that you have not seen the precipices which environ beauty; and since that you have not watched to guard a treasure, coveted by so many ingenious spirits, and so ardent in such conquests. See with what she entertained her mouth, whilst by her eyes her heart distilled into tears.  
The Justice advertised of my disgrace happened in the house of this widow, stayed not long to run thither, knowing that there was wherewith to pay them for their pains. Amongst the rumours which these Officers (and the people they brought with them) made, Don Fernand found invention to mingle himself with them, desiring to know who he was which he had hurt, and the occasion of this success; but because they had carried me to my lodging, he could not content his curiosity. He saw his unknown mother all in tears, and dejected with the oppression of so many different crosses, his heart was so lively touched with compassion, that if he could have believed that it would have eased her, he would freely have confessed his crime; he felt something in his soul which provoked him to take pity of this poor Lady, the force of the blood whereof their hearts were form, gave him the feeling. They put into prison all the servants of the house, the which was given for a prison to Eugenie, with some women of her chamber to serve her until the author of this scandal should be discovered The Judge promised the widow to favour her all that he could, to discharge her, although the absence of her daughter testified enough her innocence. These things being done, Don Fernand came to my lodging to give me mine Uncle's Letters, where he understood, in confirmation of what he had heard at Eugenies, that I was the hurt man, and so seeble by the loss of blood, that there was no great hopes of my life: his heart bled when he knew himself to be the author of my misfortune. He went home, not being permitted to speak to me, he a thousand times cursed the day of his arrival, and the rashness which he had to enterprise an action so extravagant. Besides his extreme sorrow to see me reduced to this estate by his little consideration, he might well be afflicted, for the delay of his affairs at the Court, because the good success thereof depended partly upon the credit which I had with those who could favour his pretensions. They would not speak to me of his return, until they saw my hurts begin a little to amend, than he came to see me, and presenting me with the letters from mine Uncle, the feeling of the affection which I bore him, exceeded that of my hurt, although it was great, made me almost go out of my bed to embrace him; we remained some time with our arms about one anonecks, which when we quitted, I observed that h● had great trouble to retain the tears which grief brought into his eyes. I read my letters, which in few words contained many recommendations of the merits of Fernand, and I thereupon told him, that my duty and his virtue so straightly obliged me to serve him, that these, letters were superfluous; after these civil compliments, the desire which Fernand had to understand by what encounter I came into the house where this strange accident had happened us, obliged him to put me upon the discourse of the estate I found myself in: and I who had the like desire to entertain him with this subject, as being my ancient friend, I made him the recitalof all my adventure, from the beginning until the very point where he saw me (amongst friends there need no great prayers, for to recount the successes caused by ladies) and when I came to speak of his encounter, and of the time that he hurt me, I believe that I revenged myself too cruelly, of his ignorance, for in stead of two blows with a poiniard which he gave me, I gave him more than a hundred, as many words as I spoke, were so many daggers points wherewith I pierced his heart, so sensible was the grief he had thereof. I have used, said I to him, all possible diligence to discover who hath so treated me, but neither in thought nor otherwise, can I find any subject capable of this accusation; so that I am constrained to imagine, that it is from myself that I have received this rigorous chastisement, or that it is come to me from some sovereign power; I have some reason to believe, and call it so, and yourself will have the same opinion; see upon what I ground it.  
When I took access to Charity, I affected but her beauty, and pretended but only to delights; for at the same time I courted another Lady, and sought her in marriage, because of her great riches; in the one I loved pleasure, and in the other profit, in this the fashion, in that the weight, so that my covetousness exceeding my love, counselled me that it was better, to have gold in money then in threads of hair, and to possess pearls that resembled teeth, than teeth that were like pearls. I propounded also to myself, that in enjoying Charity, and marrying Cleonte, so was this other Lady called, all my desires would be contented, and in this project I endeavoured to amuse and abuse with my promises this poor Lover which confided therein. So that under these perfidious assurances, I went cruelly to ravish her honour, with intention to glory in her shame, when heaven, the faithful protector of innocents', and revenger of treason, made me meet with a hand that punished the will as the effect of the crime: If I died not upon the place, I believe that it was but to give me leisure to repent my fault. A scruple sometimes ariseth in my spirit upon the absence of Charity, which that night left her house, almost presuming that sh● should not be innocent of the action; and yet whe● I represent unto myself the testimonies of h● love, her constancy, faith, the graces of her face, an● the sweetness of her spirit, I condemn myself and demand of myself reparation for the injur● which I do her, so that after having endeavoure to find some clearing to my doubts, I always find● my spirit the more oppressed with trouble an● confusion.  
This was the discourse I made to Don Fernand, b● the which I discovered nakedly unto him m● thoughts and secrets. He endeavoured to comfort me, in telling me, that time would one day give me ample satisfaction for my displeasures; that he took part in my evil, as if it was his own, an● that he would always contribute for my service all that did depend upon his honour, fortune, an● life. I gave him a thousand honest thanks for h●● courtesy, and so we parted for that day: tw● months after I was entirely healed; my first goin● abroad was employed to solicit his affairs, whe● my credit conjoined to his merit, made him obtain a Regiment of four companies, wherewith he was much satisfied, and of new obliged to lov● me. During all this long space of time, Charity remained shut up in the house of this poor woman as I told you, as much accompanied with confusion and fear, as separated from consolation and assurance. Time which destroyeth and healeth al● things, had no virtue for her, he rather surcharged her with affliction, than gave her ease. She sometimes sent her Hostess to Madrid, and into he● street, to attempt to learn what bruit run of her affairs; but whether it was that this woman had not industry enough to inform herself thereof, or that those to whom she spoke were ignorant thereof, she never brought good news to Charity. Seeing then that she was there destitute of all means to get out of the troubles and languish wherein she ●ived, or rather wherein she died, she resolved to go to Sevill, where lived one of her Uncles, which possessed the goods of her house, which had fall'n to her, had she been of another sex; for they descended upon the Males; her brother enjoyed no more thereof then herself; for it was thought he was dead. Charity hoped that this Uncle would have pity of her misfortune, and that he would lovingly receive her. She communicated this to Fregonde, so was her hostess called, who adhered to all her propositions. She persuaded her to accompany her in this great voyage, that she might give less suspicion to those that should see so much youth and beauty go all alone through the country; and to oblige her the more, she shown her her jewels, which she had not yet seen, saying that she had wherewith to pay her for her pains, and to warrant her from want. Fregonde was not so stupid but the brightness of these stones wakened her understanding and covetousness: upon the instant she propounded to make herself rich, by making these Jewels hers by some pernicious stratagem, and whilst that Charity prepared herself for this voyage, the other disposed herself to rob her. Oh too naked innocence! Oh poor girl too ignorant of worldly malice! who would have said the unfortunate Charity, that in going in the company of Fregonde, she cast herself into the claws of a wolf and a Tigress.  
This cursed woman had a husband of her manners, who was unknown to Charity, not having entered into his house since her coming hither: he had no other exercise, with four companions which he had, but to watch passengers, into favourable places, to take from them and lighten them of what they carried. Fregonde advertised him by a letter, of the voyage which she was about to make, with a woman, without naming her, it being unnecessary, who carried jewels of great value, with some pearls of such, and such fashions, that he should separate himself from his company, for some time, that the enterprise might be the more secretly executed, and that they might remain the sole masters of the booty; besides, that they two going alone without defence, there was no need of other help; the letter being well sealed she directed it to a tavarne, where this thief and his complices frequented, every day, having intelligence with the master thereof: then she put it into the hands of a Merchant's man, which did nothing but go and come upon the way where her husband was; having business for his master, and necessarily passing by this tavern, because it was upon the high way, Fregonde thought that her letter should be faithfully delivered, because she half knew this servant, having often seen him frequent the house, next to hers; and also having expressly recommended it to him: but this messenger who knew the evil reputation of Leon, the name of the husband of Fregonde, and of the tavern whereunto this letter was directed, by divine inspiration, as I believe curious to see the contents of this letter, which he had received, not being too well assured that there was nothing therein to his disadvantage, whatsoever it was he opened it, and saw the complot which this wicked woman made with her husband. This man would willingly have returned to Madrid, to have accused her to the justices, but a dispatch which he carried for his master could not permit him to return. Yet he determined to prevent, and hinder this conspiration, in declaring it to the Justice of the town next to the tavern. In this resolution he went on and continued his voyage, but by misfortune he lost the letter by the way, before he arrived at Illescas.  
One of the people of Eugenies coming from that town upon some business of mistresses, seeing this letter, lighted, took it up, and read what you have heard, & put it in his pocket; astonished at the wickedness, that is committed in this world. Being arrived at Madrid, and having rendered account to his mistress of his voyage, he shown her this letter, not knowing that she had interest therein, and told not how he had found it in the high way, admiring divine providence, for having it may be, hindered the execution of this theft, by the loss of this letter, this lady read it two or three times, that seeming still clearer which she suspected, for although there was no name, the quality of the jewels which she specified, made her presume that they were those of Charity, she begun again to renew her eyes and groans; she believed her daughter dead, and her honour violated, imagining that they could not take away her life, without stripping her of her integrity; after the most violent apprehensions of these new sorrows, were a little moderated, she forced herself to resist against the excess of her affliction, to the end to attempt it by the the means of this letter, she could get notice of the rape of Charity, for she believed that she was stolen away. She went to the Precedent and sovereign magistrate of Castille, let him hear her plaints, and recital of her disaster, producing this letter, which might give some light in these confusions. There was a Commissary presently deputed to go search the places about this tavern, and to seize upon the host: but although this ordinance was promptly made, it could not be so diligently executed, but two or three days after the messenger arrived at the place where he had design to reveal his secret to the Justice, but as he thought to have done it, he found not his letter, which might render testimony of his declaration. then judging that he should not be believed alone he went on. In following his way he was taken by the same thiefs, amongst whom was the husband of Fregonde; seeing himself thus in danger to lose his life, and money, he remembered himself of the name of the person to whom the letter was directed. He demanded if Leon was not in their company, and they told him that he was their chief; at the instant he took him aside and told him in this torment of fear, all that was contained in the letter, the apprehension of death wherein he was made him tell all. Leon cunningly informed himself of all the circumstances, that seemed important whereby he knew the riches of the proposed theft, and the terror which oppressed this unhappy man. He gave him his liberty for his advice, obliging him by oath to discover nothing of what he had told him to any one. See this unhappy messenger escaped from the hands of these thiefs whilst on the other side Leon disbanded himself upon the instant, and went all alone to attend the prey which he hoped for. Whilst this was done Charity was upon her way, mounted upon a Mule, and followed by her treacherous companion on foot, going little journeys, and advancing towards the rendezvous of these unhappy people, where she was to lose in a moment all the gratifications which fortune had given her in many years; her perfidious guide, measured so well, I would say so maliciously, her time, that she arrived towards night at Sierca Morena; poor Charity traveled in fear, the heart, the faithful nuntio of good or evil, advertised her of the danger she was going to fall into, the effect thereof was not much delayed, in passing by a close way. Leon came out of a certain place, full of bushes and thorns: and as a ravenous wolf surpriseth an innocent sheep, this Lion ceased with his claws upon fearful Charity, who fell in a swound for fear upon the instant, the perfidious Fregonde begun to cry out and feigning to run away, she drew aside into the bushes, and then this barbarian insensible of the grief of this young gentlewoman, without respect of her beauty, searched her all over: but he had scarcely begun this insolent action, when he heard a horseman to approach him, who being in this suspicious place favourable to thiefs, galloped with his pistol in his hand and the cock up, this thief could not so soon retire himself out of the way, but this Cavalier was with him, they were both of them in distrust, the one believing they came to take him, and the other that they would rob him, because that Leon was equipaged in such manner, that he might be well taken fora thief. He seeing the posture of the Cavalier, presented him with the mouth of his carabin which which he wore in a belt, but by good fortune it took not fire; the Cavalier lost no time, but discharged his pistol against his body charged with two bullets, before he could draw his sword, as he was going to do, Leon fell to the ground, not dead but dangerously wounded. Don Fernand lighted (this was the revenger of the crimes of this thief) and ceased upon his arms to serve himself therewith, in case of need. He seeing himself so happily dispatched, by the assistance of my credit, went towards Sevill as well for the desire he had to see so fair a town, as to make a young gentleman which dwelled there, it being the place of his birth, the first captain of his little regiment, being acquainted with him in Flanders, to make him participate of his good fortune.  
Just heaven, which maketh us sometime to feel its rigours, to give us afterwards abundance of favours, permitted that Charity came from her mortal trance, wherein she was fall'n. In opening her eyes she saw the traitoress Fregonde, with a visage of a fury of hell groping yet in her breast where she had put her jewels, and then with feeble voice: What Fregonde said she, are these the effects of a person, who hath sworn to me an amity inviolable? ah cruel! is it possible that thou art confederate with the thiefs which have rob me? Don Fernand who seemed to be destinated for the protection of Charity, hearing this plantive voice, ran presently to the place where she was, he saw this maid along upon the ground, and this cursed woman, stripping her of her jewels and clothes. Fergonde had heard the pistol discharged, but she thought it had been her husband that had shot for some design; for she had not seen the Cavalier: so that when he came near her, she believed that it was Leon who returned, so much she was troubled, and attentive to her wicked action. The cavalier seeing this young beauty thus rudely treated, moved with compassion, and blinded with choler, or it may be, put forwards by heaven, which serveth itself very often of one man to punish another, gave her three blows with his sword, which made three issues for her soul to go the sooner out of her treacherous body. Charity, who saw this action, imagined that she had done Fregonde wrong to suspecther of infidelity, and believed that this Cavalier was the same thief that had stayed them: so that she expected the same misfortune that had befallen her companion, but as death flieth ordinarily from those that expect it, it happened so to her. Finish bloodsucker, said she to Fernand, finish to glut thy cruelty, and take from me this languishing life. He knowing that she took him for the thief, answered her, Madam you see the defender of your person and life, and a gentleman that will expose his, for your service if you please. Charity hearing these words found herself more confounded then before, she knew not what to think thereof, but considering that so courteous words could not proceed out of the mouth of a thief, she called again her spirits, and stretched out her arms to the Cavalier, who raised her from the earth. He conjured her to assure herself upon his person, and to believe that she was in the hands of a man of honour, where there should be rendered her no displeasure. Saying so, he approached with her to the place where he had left Leon, but he had drawn himself into the bushes, hoping that the Cavalier being gone on his way, his wife would come help him, and make him to be carried away and looked unto. Fernand not finding him, made no great diligence to search him, he imagined, that he was not so hurt as he had believed, and that he was gone to tell his disaster to his companions, to oblige them to revenge him; in this imagination he made haste from thence, and took Charity with him, he set her upon her mule, and mounted upon his horse, and took the way by which he was come, returning towards Madrid, because the nearest place of retreat was that way; otherwise they would have been benighted 〈◊〉 the wood, and it may be in danger to find ●●e companions of Leon; it was a great distance betwixt this place and the town where Fernand thought to lodge to pass the night in security, which gave him leisure discreetly to inform himself, who she was, and of the voyage she made, and who had engaged her into this danger. Charity to testify how much she esteemed herself bounden to his generosity, recited nakedly unto him all that she knew of herself, as well her name and condition, as the accident which was arrived me in her lodgings, moderating in the end the shame of her fault with the promises of marriage which I had so solemnly made her.  
Fernand harkened to all this discourse with astonishment and admiration, seeing himself to be one of the principal personages in this tragical History. He remembered himself that the next day I was to marry Cleonte, the Gentlewoman whereof I told you, and who was to be esteemed, for having amongst other good qualities, near twenty thousand pounds for her portion, besides the hope of inheriting, yet as much more, from her father. Considering then that it was in his power, to repair the honour of this fair Gentlewoman, and to bring again consolation and joy to her mother, he found himself engaged in conscience and generosity, not to neglect it; being arrived at their Inn and having taken a little repast, he would let her see how useful his meeting with her might be to her, yet without declaring what he knew of my project to marry Cleonte, for fear of surcharging her with new afflict●●●. Madam, said he, I thank my good fortune, that she hath this day given me occasion to serve you in such manner as none but a brother could do. He did not think to have made so just a comparison, for this time I will break my voyage to Sevill, whither I was going as well as you, when I met you, and for your sake I will again take the way to Madrid, hoping there to procure you that contentment which you desire from Don Antonio. It is a Cavalier whom I know, and whom I hold so religious, that if he hath sworn to marry you, as I believe he hath, since you say so, he will never violate his faith, and it may be he would already have done it, if he had known where to have found you; it is therefore I would counsel you to return with me to Madrid. At these words Fernand saw that Charity lifting her eyes up to heaven, made an action which testified that she had some repugnance to the effect of this proposition, being ashamed to go alone with a man; and not daring to speak her feeling, she covered with the pretext of fear to be known. No, no, Mistress, said he, fear nothing, confide in me, if your quality and beauty would not oblige me to respect, that which I bear to Antonio, whose wife I believe you will be, would make me use you with all sort of reverence. I will lodge you in a place where no body shall know you; in the interim I will see this Cavalier, and I assure myself, that you will have cause to praise his loyalty, and my diligence.  
Charity was altogether charmed with these spacious consolations; she passed the rest of the night in some repose of spirit, thanking God every moment, for having assisted her with so magnanimous a courage, and disposing herself to be conducted by the prudence of this brave Cavalier. At break of day he went to knock at the door of her chamber, and told her, that it was time to departed, and that they must hast to Madrid, if she would see a good success of her affairs, she was presently ready, and they went gladly together. They arrived that day at dinner time in an Inn, where they found the Commissary deputed by the Precedent of Castille to apprehend the thiefs which upon these ways rob all the passengers, who had already taken and hanged up the companions of Leon.  
Don baptist father of Cleonte, having appointed and chosen the day of our marriage, had invited all his friends for that time, amongst the which Don Ariel the Uncle of Charity was the most considerable after his kindred, this Uncle that lived at Sevill, and to whom she went to sue to his good nature, to receive her to him, being the only possessor of the estate of her house settled upon the eldest, as I have already told you. He left Seville to come to Madrid, and take part of the contentment of his friends. The next day after the adventure encountered by Don Fernand, he passed that way, near unto which Leon had drawn and hidden himself. This miserable wretch having been so long time abandoned from succour, and almost lost all his blood, and mortally hurt, decayed by little and little; seeing that Fregonde did not come, and that he heard passengers go that way, he begun to make pitiful cries, at the instant that Don ariel passed by the place where he was. Then this charitable and courteous Cavalier made his train to stay, and alighting the first, went where he heard this lamentable voice; he saw upon the ground a strong man, inclining to grey, of about fifty years of age, of a stern visage, full of scars, and soiled with blood, as all the rest of his body was, who made him this broken discourse, being oppressed with pain and weakness. Sir, said he, through Christian charity have pity of a miserable sinner, to whom just heaven this day maketh its vengeance felt; I have a recital to make you, whereby I shall discharge my conscience (it God assist me with life and breath to do it) and give ease to a great family, which I have put in extreme grief a long while ago, saying so, a great weakness stayed his speech; Don ariel curious to know what this hurt man would say, sent for water to a little rivelet, that ran thereby; they cast it into his face, and he opened his eyes; then setting him up handsomely against a tree, two men of Don Ariels holding him up, he begun again his discourse. Which way do you go Sir, said he? I go to Madrid, answered Ariel. Alas! Sir, replied the hurt man, you may well oblige then persons of condition that are of that town, and in so doing render my soul less criminal. Speak, my friend, said Ariel, take courage, I will do it with all my heart. It is thirty years, continued the hurt man, that I have lived in the most infamous profession that is possible for a man to choose. At the beginning I rob in Towns and Villages, where I sometimes escaped from the hands of Justice, and sometimes also I received severe chastisement therefrom, but yet too gentle for my crimes In fine, after a perpetual banishment from Madrid, I was constrained to inhabit in the fields and woods, where I rob the passengers, and many times took away their lives with their goods; I roved also sometimes about the town, and in the entry of the night I rob those that came out thereof, or who arrived late there: About twenty years ago, one evening, being accompanied with one of my confederates, I found a country woman going towards the town, who carried a certain packet, we would have taken it from her, she made resistance, and begun to cry, and we killed her, this packet was a fair little boy, which heaven warranted from our cruelty, we contented ourselves to take from him some little ornaments, which gave me knowledge that this infant was of high birth, we carried him to the next village, and left him in the hands of a poor woman, in abusing her with a spacious lie, to make her receive him. Some months after I went disguised into Madrid, and secretly informed myself of the loss of this infant, they told me the name of his house, and that he was the heir of five and twenty hundred pounds a year, knowing that, I durst not expose to sale the little business which I had taken from him, fearing to be discovered, since that time I have had remorse of conscience for the great evil and wrong I have done this child, so that having intention to repair one day my crime, I would never part with these little jewels, what necessity soever I was in, always reserving them to serve as marks and testimonies to make the child known; they were an Agnus-Dei enchased with gold enameled, a tooth of Coral, also garnished with gold, and a little chain of the same mettle, which he had hung about his neck, all these are to be found, with the names of his father and mother, and his own, in an old cupboard in my house, where I have nevertheless not much inhabited, which is near the Meadows of Saint Geronime of Madrid, it may be easily found in ask for my name, which is Leon, known well enough by my infamy, see here the Key of that buffet in my bosom: Fregonde my wife, in speaking this last word his voice failed him, his eyes turned, and he rendered his last sigh.  
The confusion of Don Ariel is not to be represented, so much the beginning and end of this discourse had astonished him.  
After so ample a declaration, he had almost no need of this key to verify that this child (whereof Leon had spoken) was his nephew, and the only son of his brother, lost so many years ago yet for to have a greater clearing therein, he made it to be taken from his neck, where it hung under his shirt: this done he got upon horse back, and followed his way, ignorant by what accident this old thief had been hurt, because he had not time to demand it of him, which he thought to have done as soon as he had ended his relation. At the first he passed, he gave notice thereof to the officers of Justice, who neglected to go thither, thinking there was nothing to pay them for their pains, as it is ordinary, and so it is believed, that Fregonde and he, were consumed upon the place, or devoured by savage beasts. Don Ariel traveled with the greatest impatience that was possible, extremely desirous to discover the verity of his doubt. In going he felt himself troubled with two contrary feelings. On the one side covetousness counselled him, to take the advantage which he had, seeing he only understood this affair, and to reveal nothing, for fear of being outed of the estate, which he had possessed so long time, and in danger to be brought to account, having enjoyed this estate, upon the belief which he had, that he was the lawful successor of his dead brother. On the other side religion persuaded him to restitution if he should come to the knowledge of the true heir. After having long time balanced these two temptations, he generously resolved, to yield to the duty of a good Christian, and to the honour whereunto his nobleness engaged him. In this intention he entered into Madrid, the same day that Fernand and Charity arrived there, for they were but one day's journey before him, and in approaching the town they went very softly, to let the day pass and arrive in the night, for fear that some one might know Charity. Don Ariel would see no body of his acquaintance, until he was cleared upon the declaration, which Leon had made him. He lodged in a remote quarter of the town, and the next day by the authority of justice he made the house of Leon to be opened, and the cupboard, depositary of the witnesses of his damage, since that they dispossessed him of a great succession. They were found in a Box with a writing containing that they were taken with a child in such a time and place, as also the names of the child, his faher, and mother. Don Ariel charged himself therewith to represent them when it should be required. He might well if he would have exempted himself from making such a search, there being none but he that knew the secret that the thief had discovered to him, but the generosity of his soul, made him do a rare action of justice, in this occasion; his design was to go inquire in all the villages about Madrid, following the instructions which Leon had given him, thereby to learn something of his nephew, but before he made this search he would see his sister in law, to know if she heard nothing of her son, and let also Don baptist know of his arrival, who expected him to assist at the wedding of Cleonte his daughter, and mee●.  
Don Fernand and Charity being arrived at Madrid did as Don ariel had done, they lodged in quality of (strangers, in a remote Inn, not to be knowner and whilst Don ariel made his perquisitions, Fernand informed himself in what estate, my marriage was with Cleonte, He was told that it was referred from day to day, expecting the arrival of a Cavalier of Sevill the intimate friend of Don baptist This news pleased him very well, seeing that he was come time enough for the good of Charity. They had scarcely been two days in Madrid, when Don ariel appeared to the great contentment of Don baptist, who received him very honourably to his house; the next day he went to visit Eugenie his sister in law, whom he found much changed, with the extreme displeasure she took for the loss of Charity, she made him believe, that she had been sick, the better to dissemble her sadness. After their first compliments, he demanded news, of his niece. I have said she for some time put her into a religious house, with one of her cousins, to avoid the trouble which one hath to guard a fair maid, since that they say she may be called so. Don Ariel believed her and commended her proceed. Seigneur baptist my pretended father in law, arrived thereupon, taking his time to employ the credit of Don Ariel, to invite her to my wedding: she excused herself in the beginning, but in the end not to give knowledge of the cause of her mourning to her brother in law, she accepted the summons. The night being come, that night I say destinated to take away my liberty, and to engage me in a voluntary captivity, the venerable Eugenie, came into the assembly: as soon as she cast her eyes upon me, she remembered the tragedy passed, and felt herself ceased with extreme sorrow, she wept inwardly, and feigned joy in appearance.  
Don Fernand advertised of the time of the solemnity, made a fair habit to be brought to Charity, according to her condition: he prayed her to  herself therewith, and to adorn her self with those jewels, whereof I have made you a description; then making her to put a mantle upon her, he lead her to the house of Don baptist: he entered with her into the hall where the company were, and made her sit in a corner; then coming right to me, Seignieur Don Antonio, said he to me in mine ear, I much commend the preparation you have made for your wedding, and for to gain time I have brought you her that must be your wife. Do not ask me other explication, because the place where we are is not proper, do only that which you own to your word and the merit of her which I present to you. I was much surprised to see Don Fernand so soon returned, and more with his language, which I judged to be a challenge disguised, and in this consideration, without thinking of informing myself, what she was he spoke to me of, I told him softly that I had some reply to make him upon that subject, and that he should go stay for me at a place which I named to him. He went out very discreetly, and I incontinently after, but we were no sooner out of the company, but that they thought that I had a quarrel. My brother which you see here, ran upon the instant after us, so did also Don Ariel and Don baptist: they overtook us in the streets and brought us back again to the house, ye● ignorant of the cause of our quarrel, for we faine● to be come out upon another design, but Do● Charles found us not, we sent after him, but could hear nothing of him, since that night I have not seen him until I met him at Cartagene: During al● these alarms, Charity kept her place where Fernand had left her, and when she begun to know tha● this assembly was made for my marriage with Cleonte, she learned at the same time, that I was gone out to fight with a stranger, she judged that it was Don Fernand. Then seeing me on one side to violate my promises, and on the other side in design to take away the life of her defender, so violent a sorrow ceased upon her heart, that she fell in aswoond As soon as this weakness was perceived, she was encompassed with all the ladies, which ran to assist her, and amongst the rest Eugenie her mother, who (having known her) remained , and dumb as a statue: I know not whether it was with excess of joy to see her, or with extremity of sorrow, to know that she was come alone with a stranger.  
The women confused in the contemplation of this accident, caused Charity and her mother to be carried into another chamber apart, when another motion happened at our return: A poor woman that served in the house of Don Bapriste, as we entered into the hall, knew Don Fernand, and without other ceremony, came and cast herself upon his neck crying, ah, my son! my dear child! is it possible that I see thee living? All those that were not busied about Charity and Eugenie, encompassed Don Fernand, and this woman, astonished to see them embrace with so much joy. They could not comprehend how a woman of so base condition should call a young man, who had the port and habits of a Cavalier her son. Many of those that at the beginning made some esteem of Don Fernand, regarded him then with scorn and derision. In brief, we were so confused with so many troubles and strange successes, that we scarcely knew one another. In fine, Cleonte, adorned as a Bride to be married, presently came to Epinelle, so this poor woman was called, and demanded of her the explication of this action; and this woman in the presence of the whole assembly said, that she had brought up Fernand as her child, having nourished him with her milk, he being put into her hands by two unknown men, which brought him to her one night, letting her know, that it was a child of a good family, and the rest, that I have told you those thiefs said to her, adding that her poverty had constrained him to quit the village, and come and serve in Madrid. Don Ariel, who behind the others harkened to this recital with admiration, calculating the time, and putting all the circumstances together, with those which Leon had told him, came to finish the interpretation of these aenigmas, he demanded the name of this woman, and of the village where she dwelled when they brought her this child, and seeing that they were the same which were contained in the writing which he had found in Leon's cupboard, he looked more carefully upon the face of Don Fernand, where he observed all the features of his dead brother, his blood begun to be moved, and not being able longer to resist the force of his affection, which pressed him, he came with his arms open to Don Fernand calling him his dear nephew; and without other words, he was so ravished with joy, he remained long time embracing him, and weeping upon his f●c●: oppressing all the assistants with new admiration, after the greatest effects of this transport of joy, Don Ariel sent for the Agnus Dei, and the tooth of coral, which I have told you of, to make them known to E●genie. They caused her to come being yet moved with the recovery of her daughter; whose story Don Ariel her uncle was yet ignorant of, no one daring to tell it him: look here, sister said he to her in showing her these little ornaments, do ye know this? O heaven! cried she in regarding them, thou sellest me dear the contentment thou hast now given me, since that without any intermission thou puttest me in mind of the loss of my child, in representing to me these little gauges. Ah! where art thou my dear Fernand. There he is replied Don Ariel, in taking him by the hand, Eugenie had like to have swooned with this sudden apparition, Ah God said she: then (remaining as if she had been charmed) she begun to contemplate him, and felt upon the instant, a motion at her heart which confirmed the verity of what she heard. On the other side Fernand was in so strange a confusion, that he knew not how to interpret these words and actions. In fine after she had remained a good space in this enchantment, she broke silence, and said, that she knew him to have a perfect resemblance of his father; but to make her the more certain of the truth, she remembered that at the hour of the birth of Fernand and Charity, they being twins, they were fastened together by the heel, and having disjoined them, there then rested to either of them a mark in that place: then Don Fernand begun to understand all his history, being overjoyed to know that he was issued of so noble a lineage, fell upon his knees before Eugenie; Madam said he, if there need no other testimony but that, to make me to be acknowledged your ●onne, permit me to kiss your feet in that quality; have the sign you speak of Eugenie transported to ●ee so many marvels upon the sudden, had like to have given up her soul in kissing and embracing Don Fernand: having a little given over their embracing, they went into another chamber, and in the presence of Don Ariel, he let them see the mark which gave the last clearing to their doubts, and made Don Fernand to be acknowledged lawful heir of the estate which his uncle had possessed so many years After this Charity was brought into the chamber to augment this great joy, and to take part thereof, Eugenie made her to embrace Don Fernand as her brother, whom she had heard her mother so often lament. In brief they were all so full of felicity in this prodigious encounter, that they scarcely knew themselves. They made amongst themselves some short recitals of their adventures, for their proper satisfaction, until they should come into a more convenient place to declare them at large, as I have done; Don Ariel brought them all three again into the hall? publishing to all the company, the miracle which God had done in their favour, so that all their friends participated of their contentment, and I more than their kindred themselves. After this Don Fernand came to me; sir said he, very modestly, I did not think I had been so much interessed in the discourse I held you but even now, I made it being urged thereunto by a● instinct, whose cause I knew not; but at the present since the affair toucheth me so nearly, and that see that it was blood which excited me to solicit you, I begin it again and with much more affection. I cannot think that a generous soul, as I have always known yours to be, would disguise a treachery under honest promises, where heaven was called to witness the design you had to accomplish them. Words tie men; before they are spoken they are voluntary, but being given, they are necessary. If you be of another opinion, you wrong the nobleness of your courage, and much prejudice your honour: and being your friend so much as I am, i● would extremely trouble me that you should do any action whereby your reputation might be stained. You know the discourse you have held to my sister, and the scandal that is thereupon arrived, you are now obliged to effect it, as well for her proper satisfaction, as the general reputation and honour of our family. And for my part I am persuaded that you had already done it, if you had known whereto have found Charity. She is of condition equal to yours; her virtue was in a high degree of perfection before the fault you made her commit, her beauty cometh, not short of the most considerable, and if I say not that she is incomparable, it is because I would not offend the respect which I bear to Cleonte. Besides all these considerations, you will add to the quality of friend which you honour me with, that of brother and most humble servant. If you have any scruple for her absence, although you are the cause thereof, I will oblige myself to render you satisfaction.  
All these reasons seemed to me so honest and just, and my conscience was so moved therewith, that testifying unto him my consentment by my silence, I went to embrace Charity, and in the presence of the whole company renewed my vows to her, wherewith her mother and uncle were greatly rejoiced. Don Ariel made a voluntary resignation to Don Fernand, of all the estate which by right appertained to him, and moreover he made him his heir f●er his death: & the more to oblige me to esteem 'tis niece, and to take away the trouble I might have for being excluded from the riches which I might have possessed in marrying Cleonte, he augmented the portion of Charity with eight thousand pounds, part of the profits which he had received in enjoying Fernands' estate, who approved this liberality. I went to make compliments to Don baptist and Cleonte, excusing myself upon the belief which I had that Charity was dead when I sought for their alliance, but she being living, my conscience obliged me to maintain to her the promises which I had made her. That if they would receive Don Fernand in my place, they would gain much by the change; and thereupon I exaggerated the praises of his good countenance and merit. Don baptist liked well this proposition; he communicated it to Don Ariel, who testified that he esteemed himself most happy if Cleonte would permit, that friendship and kindred might be united; and that for his nephew he did not doubt but to find him wholly disposed thereunto, it being the greatest honour and fortune he could aspire unto. Cleonte form easily her obedience unto the will of her father, and Fernand praising my invention, consented to the desires of his uncle, so that we were married at the same time by the approbation of all our friends and kindred Behold dear Fenise the success of my loves, if the recital thereof hath been too long pardon me; I did it but to divert you from thinking of what you have lest at Cartagene. It is now my brother's part to tell us the occasion, which made him absent himself from Madrid, and not participate of all these marvellous felicities.  
Fenise found this history extremely pretty and well intermixed, saying that for its rarity it merited to be consecrated to posterity; which gave subject to Charles to endeavour to merit like praise, in recounting his fortunes: which he thus begun.   

THE HISTORY OF DON CHARLES AND VIOLANTE.  
BEing gone out after my brother upon the opinion that we had, that Don Fernand had called him out to fight with him, as he hath already told you, I made many turns in the town, without meeting with him; In the end I met a servant of a gentleman a friend of mine, that was in the assembly at Don Baptists house, who assured me that my brother was returned thither, with him against whom it was believed he had the qarrell, that Don baptist accompanied, with other Cavaliers amongst whom his master was, had found them, and carried them back to his house. Upon these words I went no further, but returned towards the house, ●●ing desirous to know the occasion of this rumour. In passing through a street a little remote from the commerce of people, I saw at the door of a certain house, a woman covered with a mantle: as I passed she coughed softly which I took for a sign, that she would stay me, and without expecting a second time I came to her, and begun like a young man to treat her as a common woman, thinking that at that hour no other were to be met in? the streets, she retired herself a little, and said to me, Cavalier, I pardon the evil opinion you have conceived of me, seeing me alone and so late in this place; I am a woman of condition afflicted with an extreme displeasure, and have need of the assistance of a man of valour: the opinion which I have that you are so, hath caused me to call you. This manner of speaking made me give credit to her words, and although it was night, I saw that which made me judge her to be a person of respect, so that changing my stile and actions, I said, Madam since that your discretion hath prevented my excuses they would be now superfluous, I will therefore let alone submissive words, and offer you the effect of a most faithful service. Sir answered she, although I do not doubt of the sincerity of your offers, I should be yet much more assured, if I had the honour to know your name. I am called said I Don Charles de Valasquez. Ah God replied she: then remaining silent she seemed to doubt if she should discover to me her design. What is the matter Madame, continued I, is that name odious unto you? Alas Sir said she, I honoured it extremely, but to tell you the truth, the fear I have to be known makes me to desire, that you bade not stayed, but passed on your way and followed your first intention This answer made me the more curious t● know who she was. I than gave her my word not to inform myself of any thing, but blindly to obey her in all she would ordain me, without enterprising any thing that might displease her, praying her not to fear to declare to me her intentions protesting to serve her courageously, and never to reveal any secret she should trust me with. Then she told me that she was intimate friend to Violante, a● lady whom I served, who triumphed over my liberty, and treated me rigorously, although I had rendered her a thousand testimonies of my passion. She had divers time prayed me by others to desist from my suit, telling me my labour would be lost. Seeing then that this gentlewoman said she was the intimate friend of my ingrateful mistress, my desire to serve her animated my courage, persuading myself that I should oblige her, to render me some good office towards this cruel one. Upon the assurances which you give me of your discretion, and the freedom whereunto your blood obligeth you, replied she; follow me, I am going into a house about an affair of great importance: you must, if you please attend me at the street door, resolved to let no one enter, and do not trouble yourself with the noise you may hear there if any happen: but if any one offer to go out, let him go freely, without informing yourself of him. As she had finished these instructions, we arrived at the door of an house of eminency: she entered thereinto, and I finding myself engaged to assist her, put myself in ambush near the door to execute her ordinances, I presently heard the noise she told me of, and almost at the same instant a man came out, having a cloak, and a coloured hat, which came so fare upon his head; that the brims covered his face; for is was not so obscure, but that I could well observe this, he came out as if he were in choler, which I knew by these words which he spoke, thus impudent women ought to be treated; there needs no other misfortune to our blood, but to have it mingled with that of an infamous woman; he was scarcely gone, when this Lady whom I had accompanied came out also, and coming to me all in tears, Seigneur Don Charles said she, I come from making the last proof of my misfortunes; at the present I have need that you carry me to some friend's house of yours, where I may put off the  I wear, I presently carried her to a house, in the Master whereof I had great confidence; she went alone into a chamber, put off her woman's habit, and came out in man's, she prayed me to give her my sword, and to take another for myself. I extremely marvelled to see all these strange actions, yet without enquiring after any thing, I humbly obeyed in all she required, yet with great desire to know what would become of these divers changes. We left the town, she went the first, and I followed her step by step; she went into a close, a little out of the highway, in the middle whereof was a Dove-coate, she made me hid myself behind it, and she kept a little distance from it, as if she expected some one, wishing me to come to her at the first sign that she should make me, saying that she should then have need of my person. I remained planted behind the Dove-coate, like a bugbear of hemp-stalkes, my spirits much confused with all these mysteries, and without being able to penetrate into the intentions of this woman, although I had time enough to meditate upon these actions, for I was near an hour in keeping this sentinel. In the end, I heard some one to come very deliberately, I watched, and perceived that it was the same man that I had seen come out of the house whither this woman had carried me, and left me at the door, he approaching to her, at a little distance held her this language, Don Charles, said he, before we come to the effect which hath brought us hither, I must tell you, that it was not necessary to make me come into the field about a thing that I would easily have done in the town. You stand upon two points in the writing which was given me this morning from you, the first, that I should know that you love Violante; the second, that you are resolved to make me quit the pretensions I have for her; I will satisfy you upon both: For the first head, I will tell you that I am troubled, that you have passion for so poor a subject; and for the second, that it will not at all trouble me to quit that which I never had, and which is as hateful to me as death: You ought therefore to be content for this regard. But since that you already know, that I never come into these places to return without doing the action for which we are come, we must measure our swords with protestation on my part, that I do not this action but because you have called me thereunto, and that I would not do it for the consideration of Violante, nor for all the women in the world, not believing that there is amongst them all one chaste and wise, but she that hath never been courted nor sought after. I did not believe ever to have met with any thing that could have so astonished me, nor put me in so much choler, as I was in, to hear this discourse, as well because it was addressed to me, as because it was made in scorn of Violante, whom I passionately loved, to this being joined the outrage wherewith he offended the whole sex, saying that there was no woman that had virtue when she was solicited to vice, I was much moved to go correct this insolent, but feared to violate the promises which I had made to her that brought me thither, yet considering that my honour was engaged to chastise the impudence of this man, I disposed myself to break the enchantment which held me behind the Dove-coate, when this woman seeing her adversary come towards her with his sword in his hand, went to him, and being come almost within the reach of their swords, discharged a Pistol at his breast, and cast him to the ground, without being able to offend her, or give her one only word, I immediately ran in to see if there was any means to know him, but it was not light enough, then going towards this valiant woman; What is the matter, Madame, said I, what have you done? It is nothing, answered she: Do you know this man? Not to my knowledge, said I: It is, replied she, the Traitor Don Baltazar de Orosco. I knew him, than said I, he was a Cavalier which I have reason to complain of for many evil offices which he hath rendered me. Well, continued she (whilst her enemy rendered his last sigh) since that you know who he is, you shall also know who I am, and the subject which hath obliged me to treat him thus.  
I do not think it strange, that you have not known me, having never yet spoken to me, nor only heard the sound of my voice until this present. Know then that I am the same Violante, whose friend I told you I was, it is near two years ago, that Don Baltazar, covering his treason under civil propositions, begun to render me proofs of his affections, and to solicit me to be pleased with his suit, time and perseverance obliged me to hearken to him, and to wish him well. In that time my mother rendered the tribute which every one oweth to nature, leaving a great succession in the town of Naples, of which place she was native. My father desiring to take order about that estate, was constrained to make a voyage thither; at his departure he left me with one of my Aunts, to have care of me, and divert me from the trouble which I might have during his absence. All these circumstances gave me more liberty for love to lodge within my breast, and to Don Baltazar the more easily to find the way to my chamber. He deceived me with a promise of marriage, which he let me read, where I saw that he took all the court of Heaven to witness, and abandoned himself to a thousand curses if he failed to accomplish it, the least whereof was his prayers to God to make him die by the hands of the person, whose life was the most dear to him. Not long after he took possession of the most precious thing which was in my power, and a few days after he despised it; and as his design had been but to deceive me, since that he was satisfied, he made no more account of me, nor to visit me as he had done before. Seeing myself treated so unworthily, I sought all means possible to bring him to the accomplishment of his duty and promises, but the more I endeavoured by fair means to oblige him to do me reason, the more I excited him to derision, and the more I experimented his ingratitude and my misfortune. In the interim his father treated of a marriage for him, and he did not forbear to consent thereunto, without thinking that he could not do it, being already engaged to me. I sent divers times to pray him to take the pains to come to see me, to know from his own mouth, if the bruit which ran of his marriage was true, but he always mocked at the message and the person which carried it; from day to day the term of his marriage approached, and my despite augmented. I found means to speak with him in a Church, and to put him in mind of his words, my belief, and his written promise; but the barbarian impudently answered me, that she that had not merit enough to make a friend of, was not to be received for a wife. Consider a little the impudence of this brunell; I think I had then (if the respect of the holy place had not retained me) scratched him by the face, I was so transported with choler, and so sensible of this outrage, I knew not what to resolve ●pon, nor to whom to have recourse to; and to ●eigh me down with grief and sadness, I was ●old yesterday, that within three days his proposed marriage ought to be effected. Thereupon I ●ad a desire to hinder it by way of Justice, but upon the instant I represented to myself, that if my opposition did not take place, I should but publish my dishonour, and to speak the truth, if this doubt ●ad not retained me, my despite and courage had dissuaded me, judging it too much honour to this infamous man, to constrain him to do that which he ought to have entreated for. After many considerations, I thought that I ought not to communicate it to any one, for fear of hazarding the innocence of others, betwixt mine error and his crime; so that this morning I sent him a writing in your name, wherein I said you would expect him all alone here at this hour, either to see him with his sword in his hand, or to oblige him to quit the pretensions which he had for me. In using this stratagem, I imagined, either that he would see me this day to despite you, knowing that you loved me, or that he would not doubt but that you called him to combat, knowing that you were his enemy. But having seen the day pass, without hearing from him, I caused him to be so well watched this evening, that it was reported to me, that he was in the house whither I lead you, wherein dwelleth one of his friends. Having received this advice, I furnished myself with what was necessary to execute my premeditated vengeance, or at the worst to sacrifice my life to the reparation of mine honour. But before I would come to this extremity, I desired to see this disloyal yet once, to attempt to reduce him to reason and his duty: I therefore went out by the favour of the night for this effect, but considering that all men are dispensed from respect when they meet a woman alone in the streets, and in the dark, I stayed some ten steps from our house, expecting that there should pass some one, whom I might judge myself able to entreat to serve me for scout. It seemeth that heaven, amongst the infelicities which oppressed me, would gratify me with the good fortune of your encounter, since that there had already passed three men, of fashion good enough, before you came, to whom I spoke not a word, but as if you had been reserved for to render me this pious office, my genius excited me to call you, when you came near me.  
The prayer that I made to you, when you stayed Sentinel at that door, which was not to trouble yourself with the noise which you might hear, was grounded upon the hope which I had to receive satisfaction in this place, for the injuries of this disloyal, if he did not content me; but two men that were with him hindered mine enterprise, for I imagined, they might stay the blow which I would give him, or at the least having executed it, they would put me into the hands of justice. Seeing then that I ought not to hazard myself so rashly; I approached to this ingrate with the action of a suppliant, but in stead of receiving as he ought; only in consideration of my quality, and to attribute to an excess of love, the resolution which I had taken to come find him in this company, he took occasion therefrom, to treat me as a public woman, adding to the infamy of my violated honour, the shame of seeing my face massacred, by his rash hands. Is there in the whole world a woman of so little courage, that could support so many injuries, without giving an exemplary chastisement to all ingrates? Animated then with a furious and just anger, I resolved to revenge myself, yet this wicked man is happy amongst his misfortunes, that he hath received his death from a hand which he hath so often kissed and almost adored. If I have not employed you in this action Seigneur Don Charles, it was not that I believed otherwise, but that you would have generously enterprised it, but I repute your blood too noble, to balance it with that of a traitor. Although I have taken away his life with a pistol, I do not believe that I have used foul play, for without that there would have been too great inequality betwixt my weakness, and his strength, my rock and his sword, what ever it was, my victory ought not to have been doubtful, otherwise I should not have been revenged. In fine he is dead, and God hath permitted i● to be so, to accomplish the imprecations which he called upon him, and for to chastise him for having violated the faith, where he had called to witness the Almighty, his glorious mother, and all angelical powers. There is no doubt but you & I shall be suspected for his death; you because every one knoweth, that you are his enemy and rival; and I for having taken vengeance of the perfidiousness which all the world knows he hath done me; for my part I will enjoy the vain glory of my vengeance, and avoid if I can the pain I may suffer being accused, before my justifications may be received, therefore I am resolved to absent myself. If you will go with me, I shall testify unto you the esteem which I have of your person: and how sensible I am of the obligations which I have to you, I have already provided what is necessary for that purpose. There is an ancient servant of my fathers which attends me at his house, with jewels of great price, and some money, which I have given him to keep, & three good horses. See if your heart wisheth to do it: time presseth and permits us to consult no longer, things the least premeditated, ofte● times issue the best. Admiring her generosity, considering her judicious reasons, and above all suffering myself to be carried away with the love I bore her, which was newly increased by the defeat of the enemy, which she had taken away from m●, I resolved to follow her, with promise never to abandon her. Upon the instant we went to the man's house she had spoken of, who was well advanced in years, but yet sound, strong of body, and of great experience. We took these three horses, which Violante had prepared for to save herself with this man and a woman, not thinking of encountering me, and with the pearls, diamonds, and money, we put ourselves diligently into the road of Toledo and arrived there the next morning. It was not judged expedient for us to stay there, any longer, but whilst Orambel (so was our guide called) could buy us poor country habits. With this equigage, we gained the mountains near to Toledo with design to buy goods and flocks, and inhabit there, as we were in quality of country people, until we had given order for our affairs. The age of Orambel agreed very well with ours for our plot we had made, to say that he was our father, he had the care of all our affairs, and went sometimes disguised to Madrid, to learn what was said of the things wherein we had interest; for which cause we were not willing to go further from the court. I took the name of Lizeron, and Violante, the name of Lacinthe, the better to disguise us. We lived there in great repose, employing the time we two in perfectioning our loves after the manner of the shepherds described in Diana de Montemayor, whilst that Orambel our adopted father governed household affairs.  
During our abode there, there arrived many strange encounters to us, which I will not enterprise to recount unto you, fearing to trouble you; yet it is almost impossible for me to hinder myself from reciting one adventure that happened to us one day. Then Don Charles made the discourse of his encounter with Fenise, as it hath been said in the beginning of the first book; adding in continuing thus we di●●●●ed the troubles of a country life, where the day's 〈◊〉 very long, and great repose displeasing. Vio●●● o●ten received letters from her Father, which ●●●mbel went to fetch at her Aunt's house; amongst others, she received one, wherein her father let her know, that he was kept in his bed by a sickness, which the Physicians presaged would endure a long time, and therefore he could not return into Spain; that it was necessary for her presently to come into Italy, to take possession of his goods, to the end that if she remained an Orphan, she should not be a poor one. Violante durst not undertake so long a voyage, finding herself then indisposed, she entreated me to take it for her, saying, that it would not be unbeseeming, taking the quality of her husband. I was inflamed every day more and more with her beauty, considering that mine honour could not be interessed in marrying of her, since that if Don Baltazar had deceived her, she was sufficiently satisfied therefore; and besides, that she had never given him that liberty, if she had not believed him to be her husband. I served myself of her proposition, & told her, that since that she avowed me to take the quality of husband, I did not desire to be a liar, and that if she pleased she might make it good. She that desired it as much as I, gave me her hand in the face of the Church, and I married her as the widow of a Cavalier, disabusing those of the village from the opinion which we had given them, that we were brother and sister; and a month after I went to Naples, with witnesses of my marriage, which were Letters from Violante and her Aunt, which made me receive a gracious welcome from my Father in law. The fear which he had to die without regulating his affairs, obliged him to install me in the inheritance of a great estate; and six weeks after he gave me leave to departed, counselling me to return to my wife, whom he recommended carefully to me: I disposed myself to obey his will, and the solicitations of my love; but in my return by sea, the effects of my intentions were hindered, by being taken captive & carried into a country, where God had done me the favour to let me know Fenise, that I might remain obliged unto him all my life, for as he hath delivered me from a constrained captivity, so he hath engaged me for ever to be his voluntary slave. But if with this good fortune, and that to see my brother Don Antonio in health, I could join the contentment of seeing again my dear Violante, I should esteem myself at the height of a most perfect felicity.  
This pleasant narration left those that heard it in good humour, and particularly Fenise, knowing him who had saved his life in the mountains; he recounted the success thereof, saying that he was the Cavalier which was hurt, and that that which hindered Don Charles from then knowing him, was because the first time he had seen him, he had his face all covered with blood. Don Charles was extremely glad of this knowledge. Don Antonio his brother told him upon the instant that the death of Don Baltazar had been attributed to a certain Gallant of that Ladies to whom his friends would have married him; and that neither he nor Violante had ever been suspected.  
After that they had admired the marvellous accidents of these two histories, every one kept silence, seeing that Fenise prayed Marcell to entertain the rest of their way, in telling them the cause of his voyage, when Marcell courteously agreeing to what they desired of him, addressed the beginning of his discourse to Don Charles, and said thus.   

The Prodigious History of a Son and his Mother.  
MY voyage and encounters have been partly grounded upon your adventures; and if the history I am going to recount unto you is less pleasant than yours, I dare believe that it will be found more worthy of admiration.  
I had a paternal Uncle in Cartagene, a man reverenced for his virtues, and respected for his prudence and venerable aspect; he married with a gentlewoman of noble extraction, but whose chastity was not too certain, she was called Constance; the effects of things do not always agree with their names. He had a son by her totally opposed to her modesty. The debauches of Don Garcia, so was this cousin of mine called, much tormented him; he endeavoured in his infancy to repress them by chastisements, and in his youth by sweet remonstrances; but seeing he could not prevail, he resolved to send him into Flanders, that he might there employ his valour (whereof he shown some signs) against the enemies of the faith, and for the service of his King; for there are no occasions so glorious as those wherein one may render proof of zeal and courage. He gave him Money, and Letters of favour to put his person in consideration; but these Letters had no virtue, nor his Money was not spent in Flanders, but at Madrid the Court of Spain, making by this means experiment of the great difference which there is betwixt an ill inclination and a generous one. Vicious persons have no great trouble to meet with their like: Don Garcia found incontinently many friends of his humour, and amongst others he was very great with one Don Baltazar the very same that Seigneur Charles hath spoken of, and whom Violante made to feel the effects of her name and vengeance, and yet very justly. In time mine Uncle knew the little satisfaction which my cousin gave to his desire, and his proper birth and without speaking any thing thereof to his wi●e, for fear of troubling her, suffered his breast to be gnawed with extreme displeasure. In fine, hearing too often of his pernicious life, he fell sick, and in a little time died. Constance was left Widow with great i●●●s, and also surcharged with much affliction, as well for the loss of her husband, as for the fear which she had, seeing him die for sorrow, that he had heard of the death of his son in some encounter of war; for she believed him to be in Flanders, and that he had hidden this accident from her to exempt her from sorrow. I was at Toledo when they writ to me of the decease of mine Uncle, and because I knew that Don Garcia was at Madrid, I presently went to let him know thereof; I found him hidden in the house of one of his friends, because he was sought after diligently, being accused for the death of Don Baltazar, he being the same night he was slain at his house, and there it was where he had treated Violante so unworthily, as Don Charles hath said. In the doubt wherein I was, that he was culpable of this murder, although he swore to me that he was innocent, I counselled him to go into his country, to do which he easily resolved. He took the way to Cartagene, entertaining his spirit with the actions that Don Baltazar had done the last time he saw him at his house; and in remembering the words which he spoke that night, and in many other occasions (that there was no chaste women but those who had never been solicited) he would make proof of this unjust opinion in the person of his Mother. Do but see this execrable project.  
For this effect he passed by the town of Murcia, with intention to serve himself of a young advocate of that town, whom he had often seen at Madrid, in the company of Gallants, and men of pastime, amongst whom he passed for a good wit and a well spoken man. My Cousin found him out, and let him know, that he was returning to Cartagene the place of his birth, and before that he would make his arrival known, he had a desire to prove the chastity of a Widow, a Kinswoman of his, and of whom he had an ill suspicion; but because this was an experience which he could not make alone, he stood in need of the intermission of a friend, that he had addressed himself to him, having known him most able, and judging him very discreet, to entreat him to assist him in this design. The Advocate who was of [a wanton humour, having heard this proposition, imagined that if this widow was fair, he would sound her to the last proof, and in this thought he promised to Don Florizel to serve him in whatsoever he would, and should judge expedient. Before that I pass any further in this narration, you must know that my cousin had taken the name of Florizel in arriving at Madrid, for fear of being known, and that his father might not know that he was there, & not in Flanders whither he had sent him. Thi● disguising of his name, and whereby I shall call him in this discourse, did much favour my cousin's abominable design, in that the Advocate could not know, that this was his proper mother whom he would affront; so that in this ignorance and gallant determination, they departed together from Murcia, and went to Cartagene.  
They lodged in an Inn near enough the lodging of Constance, where they changed their . Florizel took the Advocates, saying he was his man, and the Advocate his, passing for a Cavalier of Arragon, of the town of Pamplone, called Don Felix Ozoria, who was come to Cartagene to hearken after news of one of his brothers, who was a slave at Maroc in Barbaria. The next day after their arrival Florizel carried Felix into a Church, where he shown him the face of the Widow of whom he had spoken, who came every day to Mass into that place; she had forty years of age, but her beauty and features covered almost a third part of them, that if she had said she had had but twenty five, one would not have thought her to have had more, regarding her complexion. Going from the Church, Florizel shown him the house where she dwelled; ●●ter which the Advocate being clothed like a Cavalier, grew acquainted with a chambermaid of Constances', and by force of money, wherewith Don Florisel furnished him, obliged her speak well of him to her mistress. This maid succeeded so well in her persuasions, that she obliged Constance to cast her eyes upon him in the same church where he had already seen her. Finding him of handsome fashion, she permitted her servant to serve for enterpreter of the passions of this new Cavalier, and to present her with the letters which he gave her. Having shown his wit by his writings which was capable to have moved feelings of love in the heart of those who were never so little disposed thereunto, and who would give themselves liberty to read them: he got acquainted with Constance, let her know his passion, and afterwards their familiarity became so great, that she promised to give him the last favour in one night which she appointed.  
Florisel exactly instructed of all the circumstances of these assaults, seeing that the place was going to be rendered, prayed Felix to stay there and to let him alone with the rest. Then at the time appointed for this generous exploit, Florisel changed again with Felix, he became again advocate, and the other Cavalier he took again his habits, and name of Garcia, and went to his mother's house, putting himself in the place of Felix, who stayed behind in the Inn. The maid was ready at the door, who doubted not but this was he whom he expected; because he wore the same  and was of the same height of Felix. She led him without light, or speaking word, right to the bed of Constance: for although she was mistress of her house, yet she was not so disordered that she she durst take a greater liberty for fear, the other domestics should perceive her sensuality. This chambermaid helped him to unclothe himself, then without speaking word, he lay down by his mother who received him with like silence. If he entered into the bed as mute, he remained there as suddenly grown lame: he passed the rest of the night in seeming to sleep, and at the rising of Aurora which approached to see this fearful couple of lovers. Don Garcia, arose and dressed himself to be gone without being known. Constance his mother seeing his actions, and that he had lain insensible by her all the night, imagined that he was enchanted, or else that he had taken some distaste with her; but rather believing the later, although she was extremely neat and proper, she called him as he opened the door of her chamber. Sir said she, very low, I cannot believe that you are he which hath used so many writings and amorous devises, to obtain this cherishable permission which I have given you, other ways your effects are much different from your words: farewell, Sir farewell, I commend your continence as a virtue which renders you incomparable. Yet said she in coming out of bed, and hindering him from opening the door, before I gave you your leave, I would desire to know the cause of your excessive retention, for provided that it doth not proceed from distaste or contempt of my person, I am well satisfied. Garcia seeing himself constrained to speak: Madam said he, your suspicions are most true, & my effects different from those which your sensuality promised itself, for I am much different from him you expected. Then horror which I have had to pollute my father's bed, and her blood who conceived me, hath obliged me to this respective retention. What Madam needs there so many words to make you know your son Garcia; when unhappy Constance had heard this discourse, and name; shame ceased her so violently, that she made but one cry. Ah, God said she, in falling half dead upon her bed without being able to speak or breath of long time. In the interim Garcia having made her chambermaid to come in, left the house, and that very hour gave money and a horse to this Advocate that had served him as instrument of this scandal, thanking him for the good office which he had rendered him, and made him return to Murcia, without telling him the effect of his stratagem. Constance being returned from her trance, found herself in a burning fever, which being mingled with the grief of her repentance pressed her to appear before the sovereign Judge, so that from the time her son had left her, until the instant of her death, she had but leisure to receive the the sacrament (where she seemed to be very sensible and to repent, her fault) and to make her testament; dying without any one knowing the cause of her end. Don Garcia considering that his impious curisitie, had killed her, durst not appear neither before her nor else where during her sickness: but incontinent after her decease, he made himself seen as arriving from Flanders, they opened the testament, where Garcia was found disinherited; he without regarding the ordinance of his mother would possess himself of the succession, but he was hindered by two of the cousins of the defunct. He had with them both words and blows, and in this difference, he outraged Gentlewomen his Kinswomen with so many insolences, injuries, and intemperances', that it was decreed against him, that he should be put into prison, where he stayed a long while, because no body regarded him, all that he undertook issued very ill, and in the end seeing himself abandoned by all the world, and pressed with extreme necessity, besides the incommodities of prison, he had recourse to me, and writ to me, conjuring me to assist him in the misery which he endured, being abandoned of all his kindred and friends. This letter was given me, and many others, wherein he reiterated the same prayers, but I was not much moved to assist him, I was insensibly grown into a certain negligence, which many times hindered me from undertaking this voyage. I imagine that heaven permitted it to be so, to chastise him for the evil he had done, in being the cause of the death of her, which was the cause of his life, after the sovereign author of all things. Seeing himself reduced to so great misery, so far that he was not visited in his chamber by any but the other prisoners, he had his heart touched with a very sensible repentance; judging that all these miseries were come unto him by divine punition: those who brought him his meat, found him always sighing and weeping. Desiring then to appease the anger of God, and do penance for his fault, he made a Vow with a good heart to employ a whole year in visiting on foot all the holy Sanctuaries of Spain, if it pleased God to deliver him from the miseries wherein he was. From that hour that he had thus acknowledged himself, all things came to him according to his wish, every one began to pity him. I arrived at Cartagene with intent to endeavour to serve him, and before I saw any of my kindred, I went to visit him in prison, where after having embraced him with tears in his eyes, he recounted to me from point to point the prodigious extravagancy which he had done, which he believed was the original of his misfortunes. I blamed, and chid him rudely for suffering himself to be carried away with such a folly, and seeing the extreme sorrow which he had for it, I became the vigilant solicitor of his affairs. By my intermission, they (whom he had offended pardoned him) seeing that they had a sufficient reparation) having kept him two years a prisoner for not penetrating into the judgements of God, they believed that it was only by their means that Garcia had suffered this pain. Not being content with having gotten him out of prison, I would see the clause of the Testament of his mother, and the cause of his disinheriting; having examined it with counsel, we learned that the Law deprived from succession those children who laid violent hands upon their Fathers or mothers, or who attempted upon their lives, and as the adversaries of Garcia could not prove that he was guilty of any of these cases (for although he was the cause of the death of his mother, there was none but she and he that knew it) the Judges before the Process was begun, ordained that the Testament should be broken, and that Garcia should be put into possession of the inheritance, not only of his mother, but also of his father; a few days after he was installed in his goods, he enterprised to render his vows, beginning with our Lady of Piler of Saragoce, one of the most holy places of Spain, where the blessed Virgin appeared to the Apostle St. James.  
We left Cartagene at the same time, he to acquit himself of his vows towards God, and I of my duty towards my wife. See Seignieur Fenise the cause of my voyage which you desired to know, and the weak curiosity of my foolish Cousin, who will be wise hereafter. An example which showeth us the misfortunes which arrive to those that will make such foolish experiences.  
The entertain of these pleasing divertisements endured until their last day's journey. In approaching to Toledo Don Antonio and his brother renewed their thankfulness to Fenise, taking leave of him and Marcell, with a thousand civil compliments. Don Charles carried Don Antonio to the town where Violante lived with Orambel; who had like to have died many times with sorrow, not knowing what was become of her husband, since that he went for Naples, his unexpected presence carried her from one extremity to another, the excessive joy which she received at his arrival, had like to have made her tender her soul in embracing him. Don Antonio stayed six days with them, and then he carried them to Madrid. Fenise and Marcel arriving at Toledo were received with unspeakable joy, the one of his mother, the other of his wife, the one to stay always with his family, and the other only to regulate his affairs, and take possession of an estate which his father had left him, with the right of the eldest of his house. The respect which every one bore to his merit, made him happily proceed in his business, which being done, the Idea, features, virtues and perfections of Magdelene, which kept the most eminent place in his memory, obliged him incontinently to take again the way to Cartagene. In few days he was with her to the great contentment of her father, mother and brother, who all expected him with great impatience to put him in possession of a treasure which he more passionately aspired unto then the highest fortune in the world. It was his marriage with Magdelene which was celebrated before the ministers, of the only law, where he publicly gave her his hand, as secretly he had done his heart, & under reciprocal promises of a perfect union, they reaped, the fruits of their loves which had taken increase and maturity, amongst so many different dangers, surmounted by their hardy resolutions, and according to the ingenious conduct of our Heros.  
Having passed some months amongst his wife's friends, he would let her know his: for this effect by the consentment of their father and mother, and her particular approbation, he carried her to Madrid there to establish his house, and habitation; where now he passeth his life, with this marvel of beauty and wisdom, & with all delights which are to be tasted in this world. A success which may serve for a certain proof, that in case of marriage the union of souls is made in heaven, & the alliance of bodies upon earth In the variety of rare adventures described in this volume, the marvellous effects of love, and fortune, are seen, whereby one may know that the one surmounts all the greatest hazards that can oppose him; and the other, although she be inconstant, and many times malignant, she nevertheless favoureth generous courages, and aideth them to accomplish their designs, when they are guided by honour, and virtue.    
FINIS.   

Courteous Reader, These Books following are Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Prince's Arms in Saint PAUL'S Churchyard.  

Various Histories, with curious Discourses in Humane Learning, etc.  
1. THe History of the Banished Virgin, a Romance translated by I. H. Esq Fol.  
2. The History of Polexander, Englished by William Brown Gent. Printed for T. W. and are to be sold by Humphrey Moseley, in Folio.  
3. Mr james Howels History of Lewis the thirteenth, King of France, with the life of his Cardinal de Richelieu, in Folio.  
4. Mr Howels Epistolae Ho-Elianae, Familiar Letters, Domestic and Foreign, in six Sections, Partly Historical, Political, Philosophical, first Volume with Additions, in 8ᵒ 1650.  
5. Mr Howels New Volume of Familiar Letters; Partly Historical, Political, Philosophical, the second Volume with many Additions. 1650.  
6. Mr Howels third Volume of Additionall Letters of a fresher date, never before published, in 8ᵒ 1650.  
7. Mr Howels Dodona's Grove, or the Vocal Forest, in 12ᵒ with Additions. 1650.  
8. Mr Howels England's Tears for the present Wars, in 12ᵒ 1650.  
9 Mr Howell of the Pre-eminence and Pedigree of Parliament, in 12ᵒ 1650.  
10. Mr Howels Instructions for Foreign Travels, in 12ᵒ with divers Additions. 1650.  
11. Mr Howels Vote, or a Poem Royal presented to His Majesty, in 4ᵒ  
12. Mr Howels Angliae Suspiria & Lachrimae, in 12ᵒ  
13. Policy unveiled, or Maxims of State, done into English by the Translator of Gusman the Spanish Rogue, in 4ᵒ  
14. The History of the Inquisition, composed by the R. F. Paul Servita the compiler of the History of the Council of Trent, in 4ᵒ  
15. Biathanatos, a Paradox of Self-Homicide, by D. Io: Donne Deane of Saint Paul's London, in 4ᵒ  
16. Marquis Virgillio Malvezzi's, Romulus and Tarquin, Englished by Hen. Earl of Monmonth, in 12ᵒ  
17. Marquis Virgillio Malvezzis, David persecuted, Englished by Rob. Ashley Gent. in 12ᵒ  
18. Marquis Virgillio Malvezzi, Of the success and chief events of the Monarchy of Spain, in the year 1639. of the Revolt of the Catalonians, Englished by Rob. Gentilis, in 12ᵒ  
19 Marquis Virgillio Malvezzi's, considerations on the lives of Alcibiades and Coriolanus, Englished by Robert Gentilis, in 12ᵒ 1650.  
20. Gracious Privileges granted by the King of Spain unto our English Merchants, in 4ᵒ  
21. The History of Life and Death, or the Promulgation of Life, written by Francis Lord Verulam Viscount St Alban. in 12ᵒ  
22. The Antipathy between the French and the Spaniard, Translated out of Spanish, in 12ᵒ  
23. Mr Birds Grounds of Grammar, in 8ᵒ  
24. Mr Bulwers Philocophus, or the Deaf and Dumb man's friend, in 12ᵒ  
25. Mr Bulwers Pathomyotomia, or a Dissection of the significative Muscles of the Affections of the Mind, in 12ᵒ  
26. An Itinerary containing a Voyage made through Italy in the years 1646, 1647. Illustrated with divers Figures of Antiquities, never before published, by john Reymond. Gen. in 12ᵒ  
27. The use of passions, written by I. F. Senault, and put into English by Henry Earl of Monmouth, in 8ᵒ  
28. Choice Music for three Voices, with a Through Base, composed by Mr Henry and Mr William Laws, Brothers and Servants to His Majesty, with divers Elegies set in Music by several friends upon the Death of Mr William Laws, in 4ᵒ  
29. Judicious and select Essays and Observations written by the Renowned & learned Knight, Sir Walter Raleigh, with his Apology for his Voyage to Guiana, in 8ᵒ 1650.   

Choice Poems, with excellent Translations, and Incomparable Comedies and Tragedies, written by several Ingenious Authors.  
30 COmedies and Tragedies written by Francis Beaumond, and john Fletcher Gent. never printed before, and now published by the Author's Original Copies, containing 34 Plays, and a Masque, in Folio.  
31. Epigrammata Thomae Mori Angli, in 16ᵒ  
32. Fragmenta Aurea, A collection of the Incomparable Pieces written by Sir john Suckling Knight, in 8ᵒ  
33. All Invenals 16. Satyrs, Translated by Sir Robert Stapylton Knight, wherein is contained a Survey of the manners and Actions of Mankind, with Annotations, in 8ᵒ  
34. Maseus on the loves of Hero & Leander, with Leander's Letters to Hero, and her answer, taken out of Ovid, with Annotations, by Sir Robert Stapylton Knight, in 12ᵒ  
35. Poems etc. written by M. Edward Waller of Beckons field Esq in 8ᵒ  
36. Pastor fido, the faithful Shepherd, a Pastoral, newly Translated out of the Original by Richard Fanshaw Esq in 4ᵒ  
37. Poems, with a Discovery of the Civil Wars of Rome, by Richard Fanshaw Esq in 4ᵒ  
38. Aurora Ismenia and the Prince, with Oronta the Cyprian Virgin, translated by Tho: Stanley Esq the second Edition corrected and amended, in 8ᵒ 1650.  
39 Europa, Cupid crucified Venus' Vigils, with Annotations, by Thomas Stanley Esq in 8ᵒ 1650.  
40. Medea, a Tragedy written in Latin by Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Englished by Mr Edward Sherburne Esq with Annotations, in 8ᵒ  
41. Senecas' Answer to Lucilius his Quaere why Good men suffer misfortunes seeing there is a Divine Providence, translated into English Verse by Mr Edward Sherburne Esq in 8ᵒ  
42. Poems of Mr john Milton, with a Masque presented at Ludlow Castle before the Earl of Bridgewater then Precedent of Wales, in 8ᵒ  
43. Poems etc. with a Masque called the Triumph of Beauty, by james Shirley, in 8ᵒ  
44 Steps to the Temple, Sacred Poems, with the Delight of the Muses, upon several occasions, by Richard Crashaw of Cambridge, in 12ᵒ  
45. The Mistress, or several Copies of Love verses written by Mr Abraham Cowley, 8ᵒ  
46. Divine Poems, written by Francis Quarles Senior, in 8ᵒ  
47. The Odes of Casimire, translated by George Hills, in 12ᵒ  
48. Arnalte and Lucenda, or the Melancholy Knight, a Poem translated by L. Laurence in 4ᵒ  
49. The Sophister, a Comedy, in 4ᵒ by Dr S.  
50. The woman Hater, or the Hungry Courtier, a Comedy written by Francis Beaumond and john Fletcher Gen. in 4ᵒ  
51. The Tragedy of Thierry King of France, and his Brother Theodoret, written by Francis Beaumond and john Fletcher, Gen. in 4ᵒ  
52. The Unfortunate Lovers, a Tragedy, written by William Davenant Knight, in 4ᵒ  
53. Love and Honour, a Comedy, written by William Davenant Knight, in 4ᵒ  
54. Madagascar, with other Poems, written by William Davenant Knight, in 12ᵒ  
55. The Country Captain and the Variety, Two Comedies written by a person of Honour, in 12ᵒ  
56. The Cid, a Tragicomedy. in 12ᵒ 1650.  
57 The Sophy, a Tragedy, written by john Denham Esq  
58. Cooper's Hill, a Poem by john Denham Esq the 2 Edition in 4ᵒ with Additions. 1650.  
59 Clarastella with other occasional Poems, Elegies, Epigrams, and Satyrs, written by Robert Heath, Esq 1650.  
60. The Academy of Compliments, wherein Ladies, Gentlewomen, Scholars, and Strangers, may accommodate their Courtly Practice with Gentile Ceremonies, Complimental, Amorous, high expressions and Forms of speaking, or writing of Letters, most in fashion, with Additions of many witty Poems, and pleasant new Songs, Newly Printed. 1650.   

several Sermons with other Excellent Tracts in Divinity, written by some most eminent and learned Bishops, and Orthodox Divines.  
61 A Manual of Private Devotions and Meditations for every day in the week, by the ●ight reverend Father in God, Lancelot Andrews, ●ate Lord Bishop of Winchester, in 24ᵒ  
62 A Manual of Directions for the Sick, with many sweet Meditations and Devotions, by the Right Reverend Father in God Lancelot Andrews, ●ate Lord Bishop of Winchester, in 24ᵒ  
63 Ten Sermons upon Several Occasions, preached at Saint Paul's Cross, and elsewhere, by the Right Reverend Father in God, Arthur Lake late Bishop of Bath and Walls, in 4ᵒ  
64 Six Sermons upon Several Occasions preached at the Court before the King's Majesty, and elsewhere, by that late Learned and reverend Divine, john Donne Dr in Divinity, and Deane of Saint Paul's London, in 4ᵒ  
65 Precious Promises and Privileges of the faithful, written by Richard Sibbes Doctor in Divinity, late Master of Katherine Hall in Cambridge, and Preacher of Gray's Inn London, in 12ᵒ  
66 Sarah and Hagar, or the sixteenth Chapter of Genesis, opened in nineteen Sermons, being the first legitimate Essay of the Pious labours of that Learned, Orthodox, and Indefatigable Preacher of the Gospel, Mr josias Shute B.D. and above 33 years' Rector of St Mary Woolnoth, in Lombardstreet, in Folio.  
67 Christ's tears, with his love and affection towards Jerusalem, delivered in sundry Sermon upon Luke 19 v. 41, 42. by Richard Maiden B D Preacher of the Word of God, and late Fellow o● Magdalen College in Cambridge, 4ᵒ  
68 Ten Sermons preached upon several Sundays, and Saints days, by Peter Hausted Mr. in Arts, and Curate at Vppingham in Rutland, in 4ᵒ  
69 18 Sermons preached upon the Incarnation and Nativity of our blessed Lord and Saviour jesus Christ, wherein the greatest mysteries of Godliness are unfolded, to the capacity of the weakest Christian, by john Dawson, in 4ᵒ  
70 Christian Divinity, written by Edmund Reeve, Bachelor in Divinity, in 4ᵒ  
71 A description of the Newborn Christian, or a lively Pattern of the Saint militant, child of God, written by Nicholas Hunt, in 4ᵒ  
72 The Tyranny of Satan, in a Recantation Sermon at St Paul's Cross, by T. Gage, in 4ᵒ  
73 The True and absolute Bishop, wherein is showed how Christ is our only Shepherd, and Bishop of our souls, by Nicholas Darton, in 4ᵒ  
74 Divine Meditations upon the 91 Psalms, and on the Hist. of Agag K. of Amaleck, with an Essay of friendship, written by an Honble person, in 12ᵒ  
75 Lazarus his rest, a Sermon preached at the Funeral of that pious, learned, & Orthodox Divine, Mr. Ephraim Udall, by Thomas Reeve Bachelor in Divinity, in 4ᵒ  
76. An Historical Anatomy of Christian Melancholy, by Edmund Gregory, in 8ᵒ