THE PILGRIM.  
The Second Part.  
Written by P. BELON, Gent. Translator of the First Part, And Dedicated to the Duchess of ALBEMARLE.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes, in Russel-street in Covent-Garden. 1681.   

AN ADVERTISEMENT To the READER.  
I Need but say that the first Part of this Novel was writ by that fine Wit, Monsieur de S. Bremond, to inform the Reader of its worth, and that there wanted nothing but a conclusive Part, to complete it in all respects.  
Having accidentally met with it, I liked it so well as to wish for a Continuation, which I afterward despaired ever to see, hearing that the Author having retired himself in Holland at the first rumour of the late Plot, there he had concluded all his Works, with the last period of his life.  
I was not the only Person that regretted the loss of so excellent a Pen, there were divers of the first Rank in Wit and Quality, that did also condole his death, and wished that he had lived, at least so long as to have finished the Novel of the Pilgrim.  
So soon as I had been informed of his Death, I had made a rough draught, which peradventure I might afterwards have spun out into a second Part, for my own satisfaction: But some few Months after this false Report having been disproved, by a Letter from Holland under his own Hand, I gave over the pursuit.  
Yet I could not wholly desist from nibbling at so pretty a piece of Wit, wherefore, and in order to gratify some Persons of our Nation, I made it English, and took the boldness to Dedicate it to that great Pattern as well as Patroness of Wit and Ingenuity, the Illustrious Duchess of Albemarle; who was pleased to receive it with that Generous Bounty, and singular Affability, wherewith she usually allays the splendour of her Greatness, and consents that vulgar Eyes should be cherished with those Beams of her Lustre, which otherwise would destroy their Optics.  
That incomparable Heroine had no sooner cast her discerning Eyes over it, but that she expressed an earnest desire of seeing a second Part, which made me inform her Grace of what I had done by way of divertisement, telling her withal, that I wished her Grace might find out some Person capable of finishing it, acknowledging myself too weak to proceed any further on a Subject, and in such a Style, unto which I was so great a Stranger: Yet her Grace's Commands, with the hopes that she herself would take the pains to amend those Errors which I should be apt to commit in the performance, did afterwards embolden me to undertake it. After which her Grace was pleased to dismiss me, with this Caution, that whereas she perceived that the French Author, according to the Genius of his own Country, did not make his Heroine appear unto the World altogether so fair, and free from Censure, as be might have done, she enjoined me to redress her, and to bring her off with credit, so far as her little sallies and gaieties in the first Part would permit me to act, without palpable Contradictions.  
Who could refuse an entire Obedience to the Commands of so Illustrious a Person? As if I had been inspired with a new Soul at her Grace's Orders, I immediately went to work, notwithstanding all my imperfection and insufficiency, so that in the space of three Weeks I brought forth this second Part of the Pilgrim, which I here present to the Reader. But it was so unlike its elder Brother (as it was easily discernible by any ordinary Capacity) that notwithstanding her Grace's perusal and amendments, making the best that she could of so ill a thing, as required a general Reformation to have it without fault, it is not freed from all Defects.  
Receive that which is good in it, as the Corrections from her Grace's Pen, and what is amiss I and the Printer will take upon us; however I hope that the Reader will find so much satisfaction in it as will not let him regret the laying out of his Money on it.   

THE PILGRIM.  
The Second Part.  
IT was about break of Day when our Pilgrim, impatient to be on the Territories of France, gets up to look about him, and to inquire what progress the Vessel had already made in their Journey; for so long as he was on that fickle Element he thought himself unsafe, not knowing what new turn of Fortune might overtake him, and bring him back to visit his la●● melancholic Lodgings: Besides, his happy and unexpected deliverance from a double Slavery, did appear to him so like a Dream, that he did still remain in some apprehensions of carrying along with him the worst of his afflictions. This made him to inquire of the Master of the Vessel, what other company there was with him: The Master told him, that there was none besides a Friar of St. Dominicks Order; and a Woman: A Woman? replied Camille, being strangely surprised; then am I as miserable as ever, and find that I must never hope for any end to my misfortunes. Had you orders, continued he, to take in any other person besides myself? Sir, replied the Master, the Father who hired it last night, did agree with me for the transporting of himself, and two other persons, and yourself, the Father and that Woman make up that number, neither durst I take any more into my Bark, because of the Governors strict Orders, that I should immediately departed. Our Pilgrim was so troubled at what the Master had said, that holding down his Head, his Hat drawn over his Face, his Arms across, leaning on his Staff, with his Eyes fixed on the Deck, he stood as mute, as if he had been struck with Thunder; but while he appeared so like a Statue outwardly, his Heart was agitated within with such a Confusion of thoughts, as were the cause of his representing so odd a Figure. Sometime he was thinking, what could be the reason that the wise Governor should give such strict Charge to the Mariners for his immediate departure, and yet be so negligent in the securing of his Wife from getting into the Felouqua with him: Then again it did very much surprise him, that Danna Barbara should change her mind as to her disguise, and hazard herself in Woman's Apparel; but than it came to his thoughts, that it was peradventure for her better security in case her Husband had been informed of the dress which she had designed to go in; and so by remaining in woman's Apparel, had cheated him the second time. By and by, again, his mind would be busied in making out, whether Father Andrew, and Donna Barbara were got into the Vessel, in order to go along with him, or that they believing him still a Prisoner in the red Tower, they had come thither to shelter themselves from the Governors present rage, and so had abandoned him to the furious passions that a jealous man of the Power and Authority that the Governor was, could employ in order to his ruin. If so▪ then of consequence, those orders that had been given to the Master as from the Governor, he did conclude to be of their own fabric, to hasten the departure of the Vessel, for fear of a surprisal. These, and many other confused notions possessing his whole imagination; he remained unresolved, not knowing what to conclude on: Once he was for discovering unto the Master, who that Friar and that Woman were, which he had taken into his Vessel, and so persuade him that he would do the Governor a singular piece of Service, in carrying them back to Barcellonna: But he thought that it would be very difcult for him to prevail with the Master, against the Governors positive Orders. Besides, if it should prove, that the two Passengers that were with him should not be the Father and the Governess, it would be a great disadvantage to himself to be carried back; he did believe that it was very unlikely, that at that time of the Night, and at such a Critical moment, any other Friar and Woman than them, could come so pat to embark themselves in that very Vessel that had been hired for them. This at last made him conclude that the good Father and the Governors' Wife were in the Felouqua with him, yet that peradventure they might not know of his being there, which set him upon the design of concealing himself, that he might get on shore without their knowledge of his being there. In this last resolution, he goes to the Master, and having dropped some Pistols into his hand, he whispered to him, that for some particular reasons he would lie concealed from the knowledge of those two persons that were with him, that therefore he would be conveyed where he might remain unseen; till the rest were landed, and then that he would come to shore himself. The Master having returned his thanks, took Camille by the hand, and having conducted him into a little hole like a Cabin, he left him with an assurance that there he might lie as secure as he pleased.  
The Wind was so favourable, as in a short time to convey them in view of Narbona, at which the Master of the Vessel cried out aloud, that all might take notice of it; that who had a mind to go to shore, should begin to prepare for it. At these glad tidings, Father Andrew, who had lain all the while as still as a Dormouse, rises and goes to the Governess, telling her, that if she pleased to look forth, she might behold their wished for Harbour; but receiving no answer, he retired, concluding her asleep, after her long Fatigue, and great Disasters. He gets upon the Deck and accosts the Master in this manner; Are you sure, said he, that that is Narbona? pointing at the City, and in the French Dominions: Yes, replied the Master; at which good news, The Friar's countenance was changed from melancholy, to as serene, as was the Wether. In the opinion, that Donna Barbara was not come away empty handed, he gins to build strange Castles in the Air, in his imagination, making already a prize of her and of her Treasure; now that he did find himself, out of the Governors' reach, and passed being controlled by the abandoned Pilgrim in that height of thoughts, he has not patience to remain any longer mewed up within the narrow compass of a Boat, which made him to return unto the Lady, and entreat her to arise, and prepare to go to shore, but having no answer yet, he employs his hands, where the Darkness of the place did deprive him of the use of his Eyes, and finding that the Lady was not concerned at his touch, he adventures further, and meets with her face, which finding warm and breathing, he descends Lower with the same hand, where finding her Breasts, he made bold with them. This free access, without the least repulse, did so embolden our jolly Friar, that he did adventure to convey his other hand lower, when on the sudden, he received a severe rebuke, accompanied with a thundering voice, and presently getting off of the Bed, she went to that little light that came in by the Door. The good Father, who had not been a little surprised at the strangeness of the accident, believing that he had mistaken one place for another, was making towards the Door to retrieve his way, when he was seized by the Arm, which put him to a stand, but had you seen in what a dreadful fear the poor Father was, when lifting up his Head, he espied a Face as black as any that ever came from the African shore; which looking on him with a pair of staring Eyes, cried out in the same tone as before, pressing his hand, you would never have forgot it.  
You may easily imagine that the good Father Andrew at this Apparition, was not in any great humour of making long compliments, on the contrary, he was so desirous to be gone from that black Companion, that running hastily out, he struck his Head with such a force against the Door frame, as did cast him backwards flat on his back in a swoon. The Moorish Woman seeing him lie speechless on the floor, weltering in his blood, did stoop to him, and setting up her voice, to call for help as well as she could, and to bemoan the poor Father; she began to howl much after the manner of the Irish at their Funerals. At this hideous noise the Master run to learn what was the matter, which having seen, he presently went to Camille and told him that the Father was fallen backwards dead, he knew not by what accident, and that there was no body with him, besides the Moorish Woman, which he had brought along with him the last night. Camille learning by this, that Donna Barbara was not there, went to see what was the matter; he found the poor Father, as the master had told him, in a very sad pickle: He caused him to be taken up and brought in a Chair upon the Deck, in the open Air; and presently after that the good Father had drank a little Wine, which was given him, he began to look about him, while Camille was gone to see who that Woman might be. He was not long before he learned of her, that she was Donna Barbara's Slave; who having engaged to be ready to go along with her Lady, and thinking the hour at hand; she had got to the appointed Post on the Port, whence in her obscurity of the Night she had been led into the Vessel, where she thought that her Lady was before disposed of.  
While that this account had been given at one end of the Feloqua, Father Andrew at the other end having perceived the Mariners flocking about him, he presently fancied that they were Men sent by the Governors' orders to dispatch him, in that belief, the very apprehension of Death, though he seemed half dead already, did make him cry out, that he was innocent, that he knew not where was Donna Barbara Day amonte, the Governor of Barcellonnas' Wife, and that if they killed him, they would murder a harmless man, a Religious man, and one of the Order of St. Dominick, who was a Father Confessor also, for which Crime they should one day severely answer: Look, look, continued he, speaking to those that were about him, whether you can find any such person here? Neither did I ever design the setting of the Pilgrim at liberty, for he was yet in the red Tower when I went from Barcellonna, he was thus going on pleading for life, when those men that were about him staring on him, were called away, and Camille appearing presently to him, he was by that set into a greater fright than ever, which he showed by endeavouring to get away: Camille took him by the hand, and told him that he needed not to fear, because there was no person near him that would do him any injury, that he should take his word for it, whom he knew to be his friend: By this time the poor Father Andrew having with much ado lifted up his Eyes, and perceived Camille, and are you here, Sir, said he, and all alone too, then do I breathe again; with that he fetched a deep sigh, after which he thus continued; and I do begin to believe that all that has lately happened unto me, has been mere delusion, and a temptation of the Devil; then lifting his hand to his head, which pained him; yet there must be something real in the case, continued he, or how should I feel all this smart else? And above all things, I wonder most how the Devil did put that black fantasme into my hand in the dark, in lieu of the Governess? Camille finding that he would presently fall into a melancholy passion, if not diverted, desired him to rest satisfied, and that he would give him a true account of all so soon as he should be got on shore, and that his hurts were dressed: Why, am I wounded then, said the good Father again, with a great emotion of Spirit: Yes, replied Camille, but not by those means which you fancy, but rest yourself contented, rely upon me, and all things shall be well again, and you shall have but the hurt on't, without any further ill consequence: Then Camille commanded some Persons that were by, to carry him to shore, which being done, he was dressed and put in a Bed, and Camille and the poor Father did remain at Narbona, till he was perfectly cured of his broken head.  
The next day the Vessel returned to Barcelona, whither the Moorish Woman was conveyed back, according to Camille's orders, where you are to know, that the Governor had with much patience and secrecy, conveyed his half dead Wife into her Chamber, where he had left her to recover herself, while he went out to order some of his Servants to seek every place in the Palace for Father Andrew, and to bring him immediately along with them, pretending that his Wife being fallen desperately ill on the sudden, she had occasion for him: The Governors' design in this, was to catch Father Andrew before he were gone, and to bring him to severe punishment, after, he should have vented his passion in words upon him and the Governess, and yet so order the matter, as that the true cause of all these disorders should be concealed from his Servant's knowledge, and that he might give his Wife time sufficient to recollect herself, that she and her Factor might with more patience hear what he should say to them, he did retire into another Chamber, where he expected that the Friar should be brought to him, not doubting but that he should be found somewhere about the Palace, he having caused all the Gates to be shut up, so soon as he had discovered their designs: But he reckoned without his Host, the Bird was flown, so that having waited a long time, after which his Servants being returned without their prey, he designed to return to his Wife and give her her lesson. But mean time, she having been informed that her Husbhnd had sent for her Agent, and judging that it was to bring them together, to let fly his revenge upon them both at once; she had retired into those lodgings, which were lately the Marquionesses, where she had locked herself up, sending back that Woman that had gone with her, to tell her Husband where she was retired, to observe his motions, and to give her an account of his proceed against Father Andrew, that by them she might take her measures, and judge of his designs against herself. The Governor missing of his Wife, asked where she was, and having been told that she had removed herself into the Marquionesses late lodgings, where she had locked herself up, with a design to lie there that night; he troubled himself no further about it, but went to Bed, reserving the Schooling of her against the next day.  
Donna Barbara being alone in that Chamber, had too many things in her head to think of sleep; she intended to employ her time better, in contriving which way to defeat her Husband's designs of railing at her; she had too high a Spirit, calmly to bear his injuries, and reproaches, and she was resolved one way or other, to prevent his Fury. She had opened the Window, to let in the cool Air of the Night, to refresh her fretted Heart; and she was looking out, when casting her Eyes towards the shore, she did perceive, as well as the light of the Moon, which then began to rise, would permit her, at that distance, a person that was coming from the Sea shore towards the Palace, who being drawn nearer, did appear to her in a Pilgrim's Habit. It came presently into her head, that it might be Camille, who being got out of Prison, and not believing what she had told him of the Marquioness' absence, was come under that Window, in hopes to see the Marquioness, or to learn by some means or other, which fortune might produce in his favour, whether the Lady was gone, or still in her old quarters. Donna Barbara did further imagine that the Pilgrim not daring to return to his old lodgings, or be too busy in enquiring elsewhere, for fear of being retaken, and worse used than at first, he had thought it his best course to come there himself, for information; having prepossessed herself with this conceit, as all persons are apt to believe that which they most desire, she dropped down one of her Gloves, that it might cause him to look up and take notice of the signs that she did make him to have him stay a while. The thing succeeded as she had desired, for after the Pilgrim had taken up the Glove, and found by its strong perfume, that it did not belong to an ordinary hand, he lifted up his head, and perceived some body that did make him signs, as if they would have him to stay, a little after which they withdrew.  
This Person who had taken up the Glove, being a Pilgrim that was newly come to shore, and was going in Pilgrimage to St. Jago, having no other business at Barcelona, but to seek for a lodging for that night and to proceed on his journey forwards the next morning, was willing to wait and see what the success of this would be, therefore he stayed there, walking up and down till Donna Barbara having writ her mind, and conveyed it into the other Glove, she likewise did drop it before him. He presently took it up, finds the paper in it, which he takes out, unfolds, and reads, as well as he could; but some clouds at that instant obscuring the Air, so that he could not make an end; he looks up, but finds that the Person was retired, and the Window shut. Now this Pilgrim being one of those persons, that like the generality of those foot Travellers, was light enough of Money, in ready Cash, but who are as well provided and stored with Jests, Songs, and merry Tales as our Country Fiddlers, fitted to all sorts of humours and conditions, which amongst those kind of persons are as good as so many Bills of exchange, payable at first sight; for through the Authority of those letters of Credit, and some little pretty Agnus Dei's, little Crosses, Chaplets, Medals, and the like Toys, they pass every where, and make bold to seek for Lodgings, and all other conveniencies, in all places, in all companies, and at all times. He thus qualified hastens into the City, and being made somewhat more bold than ordinarily, by this late adventure he confidently knocks at a House door, where he saw a Candle, where being admitted and got to a light, he pulls the paper out of his Pocket, and read in it as follows.  
In spite of all my Enemy's Contrivances, Plots, and Designs, I have kept my Station: If you continue in the generous design of freeing me from the cruel Tyranny of a Jealous Husband: This next night between one and two repair here again, and bring along with you a Ladder of Ropes by the help of which, maugre all my Guardians Circumspections, and Donna Barbara's Intelligences, you shall receive into your protection the Marquioness of etc.  
And a little beneath, by way of Postscript, was writ.  
Excuse my bad writing, through the want of light: Get in readiness a Felouqua against that time, which may carry us to some Sea Port of France. You need not to fear the Charges; for I shall bring that along with me, that shall be sufficient to defray all, and put us beyond want.  
At every period of this Letter, the Pilgrim would make a pause, then read it over again; but when he came to the Postscript, where mention was made of sufficiency to defray the Charges, and to put them beyond want, he did read that place twenty times over, and having looked once again on the word Marquioness, all those little distrusts and Jealousies, which had possessed him during the reading of the Letter, did vanish into Air, and as if the word Marquioness had filled him with another Spirit than his own, he did resolve within himself, to act that person's part, for whom he was taken; thus he resolved to take opportunity by the foretop, and not to part with her till he had built his own Fortune. To encourage himself in this resolution, he calls for the best that the house would afford, inquires if there were not a Marquioness that lay in the Palace, who had a Jealous Husband: He is answered that there was such a one, but that it was reported that her Husband was gone with her the morning before; The news of the Marquis, and of his Lady's absence did make him build the stronger upon that bottom, in lieu of deterring him, so that he longed till the time was come to get off the Lady.  
To that purpose, so soon as it was convenient to stir forth, he pays his reckoning, and goes out to hire a Felouqua to provide a Ladder of Ropes, with all other necessaries for the Voyage, which all his little stock would but just reach to; but while he was busy about this, a small scruple arose in his mind, which was, that doubtless the right Person intended to be employed by the Marquioness, could be no less than some person of quality, which made him fear, that when the Lady should discover his Pilgrim's weeds, she might find out her mistake, retire before he had her sure, and so leave him at all the Cost and Charges, to his utter ruin: This consideration was of weight; but he knew no other way to remedy it, than in pretending, that he made use of that Habit to be disguised, and that through its favourable aspect, they might pass with more safety into the Felouqua. This, with the prospect which he had of making his Fortune, did cause him to push on, and to venture at all, leaving the success to the disposal of Fortune, who commonly assists the bold. With this last resolution he continues his designs, and gets all things in readiness against the appointed hour; which being come, out goes our Pilgrim, and gets under the Window whence he had received the first Summons; he was not long there before he heard it open, and presently after a Cord was let down, at which he having fastened the Ladder of Ropes, it was presently pulled up again, and not long after Donna Barbara came down by it, close muffled up, lest that the Pilgrim should find out her deceit; she did no sooner touch ground, but telling him in a disguised tone, that there was no time to lose, for fear of a pursuit, she pulled him along by the Arm, not giving time to answer, which pleased him very well, who was as willing as she was to keep silence, so that they both hastened to the Vessel, in equal fears of being discovered by one another: So soon as they were come to the Felouqua, the Master disposed of them severally, as the Lady desired, and presently they put off to Sea, making all the Sails they could for Narbona.  
Mean time the Governor, who had through his Wife's Importunities granted her two days retirement, only in order to plague her the more severely afterwards, did not so much as once offer to disturb her, during the whole time of the Truce; but the term being expired, his patience was at an end also: And having sent divers of his Servants one after another to have the Door opened to him though to no effect; he went thither himself, where having divers times called and knocked at the Chamber door, to as little purpose, he caused it to be broke open, and his anger being exasperated by his Wife's resistance, he presently rushes into the Chamber, searches all Chambers for her, runs from one place to another, peeps in every hole, and corner, but finds nothing but a Paper that lay upon the Table, in which there was writ; that she being not able to endure the affronts and reproaches, with which he had threatened her, he should not take it ill, that she had absented herself for some time, only till his anger was over, and that he had altered his resolutions; for she could not imagine, that her endeavouring to release an innocent distressed Gentleman, was such a Crime as deserved so severe a usage, as he designed her. Though he was a Person that naturally had a great power over his passions, yet seeing himself overreached by a Woman, he fell into such a rage, that storming, and threatening all the Servants, as being accessaries to her flight, they at last went their ways and left him alone to vent his anger at leisure.  
After the first transports were over, he began more calmly to consider with himself, what he had best to do, and what course to take to retrieve this fugitive Woman. Being vexed with himself for having expressed so much passion before his Servants, and published so much of his concerns, but as to that, there was no remedy, and all that was to be done now, was how to get his Wife home again; but first how and where to meet with her. This he knew not how to go about, having not the least knowledge of the course that she had steered, he resolves a thousand things in his mind, and as often defeats them again with new considerations, not knowing on which to pitch: Sometimes he is for one expedient, then presently again he lays that by, and he takes up another; sometimes he is of opinion that it is the wicked Father Andrew that has assisted his Wife in her escape, at other times he is of opinion, that it is the Pilgrim, who not obeying his orders, had lain lurking thereabout to accomplish this wicked business, than sometimes he was in the belief, that they both had a hand in the Plot: Thus being perplexed with divers uncertainties, not knowing what course to take, he goes to the window which had been left open, where he finds some certain marks of his Wife's escape that way, there he sets himself down, and after a long debate within himself, he concludes that his wife imagining that the Pilgrim had followed the Marquioness to Saragossa, she had made what haste she could with the Friar's assistance, to go after him, and to gain him for herself, before that he had time to renew his friendship with the Marquioness. Amongst a thousand conceptions finding this the most probable; he resolves for Saragossa immediately; but receiving that day some orders, which required his presence for three days at Barcellonna, he was forced to obey, and defer his pursuit till that business was over.  
Mean time our Travellers are come to Anchor before Narbona, the Master gives them notice of it; the Pilgrim appears first upon the Deck, trembling at the very thoughts of approaching and discovering his deceit to the Lady: He had been there some time, when one came to him to tell him, that the Lady would have him come to her, in her Cabin. The Pilgrim with much perplexity and disorder did obey the Commands.  
Donna Barbara, had made the place as obscure as she could, to prevent a surprisal, desiring to discover herself to Camille little by little, and to obtain his pardon for the change that she had put upon him; after which she would endeavour to gain his affections. The Pilgrim comes in, and with much ado feeling out the Bed that the Lady lay on; he throws himself on his knees by the Bed side, and was going to ask pardon for his presumption; when Donna Barbara did interrupt him in this manner, Sir, there is no Woman in the World who having received so great a favour as I have lately from you, but would acknowledge herself infinitely obliged unto your generous assistance for it; yet, Sir, the case is such at present, that I must attribute the cause of my present liberty, more to my good Fortune, than to your endeavours, when I look upon all that you have olately done, as intended to some other person than myself. Madam, replied the Pilgrim, I am come to acknowledge my Crime, and most humbly beg your pardon, for having been so bold, as to take upon me the performance of that which was designed for a worthier hand, than that of a miserable Pilgrim; and I do own myself so unworthy that honour, that I must wholly attribute to my good Fortune that happiness, which another more worthy might deservedly challenge from his own merits, You cannot be wanting in that, replied Donna Barbara, except it be that your Cruelty, does drown with ingratitude, all those advantages and excellencies that the Heavens have so profusely showered upon you, and in that lies my misery, that while you are endeavouring to oblige another; you set forth your unnkindness to me, and are persuading me to believe, how ready and willing you are to serve others, while I am to be left unregarded, or that if you chance to do me some kind Office, it is against your will, and by mere accident. Madam, replied the Pilgrim, since it has pleased the Fates to make me by accident that instrument of your safety, which your judicious choice had designed unto another, be pleased to allow of their determination, and to accept of my most humble Services, in order to your future designs. This unexpected answer did so surprise Donna Barbara, that she remained for some time without answering, which gave the Pilgrim time to add; I am the more excusable, Madam, in having undertaken nothing but what I had your commands for, under your own hand, wherein reading your resolutions & fearing that my receiving of your orders might probably disappoint those persons for whom they were mant, by which you would lose that opportunity which might never be recovered again. I thought that I could do no less than supply that place, which I have done, but in order to serve you; Madam, if you think fit to make any further use of me, I am ready to obey you in what else you will be pleased to command me, but if my unworthiness does invite you to cast me off, let me but have the happiness to accomplish the residue of my Pilgrimage under the favourable assistance, and recommendation of your illustrious Name; and I shall rest contented with the honour of having served you once, and shall ever add some words, in my petitions to St. Jago, for a blessing on all your designs. This great fall from the Pilgrims first expressions, did fully confirm Donna Barbara, that she had been mistaken in the Person, but how ever the satisfaction which she had of being out of her Husband's reach, with the hopes she had of meeting with the right Pilgrim at Saragossa, did make her rest satisfied for the present, and to give him this answer: I must confess that I should not so willingly nor so easily have trusted myself in the hands of a Person so absolute a stranger to me as you are, had I had my choice; but seeing that it has so happened, and that you are willing to serve me further, I will make use of you in sending you to shore to get me the best and readiest conveniency that can be had to carry me to Saragossa, where I would have you to accompany me, and there I shall return you thanks proportionable to the services which you shall have rendered me, mean time, take this, continued she, giving him a handful of Pistols to defray the Charges, and so soon as you have provided all things for the Journey, come and fetch me hence.  
The Pilgrim received Donna Barbara's orders with much earnestness, and her Gold with as much greediness; and having assured her that he would make all the haste possible, he went to shore, where he provided all things necessary for her conveyance to the place that she desired, and returned to her again at the close of the Evening giving her an account of what he had done; presently after the Master of the Vessel was paid for his freight, and Donua Barbara was conducted to shore by the Pilgrim, from whence they were conveyed incessantly to Saragossa. At the last days journey she sent her new Servant before to provide her some Lodgings as private as possible, in some by place of the City, to which she would go in the evening, that she might not be seen. Which he did with such diligence, that he came back again, and met her two or three mile's distance from the City, whence in the Evening, he led her to her lodgings.  
So soon as Donna Barbara found herself to have no further occasion of the Pilgrim, she gave him a very considerable gratuity for his Services, and returning him thanks she sent him away.  
Our Pilgrim being flushed with what he had received for his four or five days Services, went to seek for a lodging for himself; he had quickly found one at a public House, where he met also with some of his Countrymen, with whom having made acquaintance, they supped together at the Pilgrim's cost, who would treat them, and after Supper, they fell a drinking so hard. that they were all in their Altitudes, especially our Pilgrim, who being puffed up with the honour which he had received in serving a Marquioness, and in that gallant manner too, besides, the thought which came into his head, of the great reward which he had received for it; that nothing would serve his turn at last, but the Marquioness' Health, which he began with a full brimmer; which Health he obliged the company to pledge, twice over; one amongst them being somewhat more peevish than the rest, had not so much Complaisance, as to do it without grumbling; and amongst the rest of his mutterings, he said, why must we drink twice ' over a Woman's Health, whose name we know not? Nay, nor I neither, replied the Pilgrim; but thus much I will tell you, to invite you to it; that she is young, beautiful, wise, and as generous as a Princess, and pulling his Purse out of his Pocket, and shaking it: here are golden witnesses of what I say, with part of which, I intent to defray all your Charges: Here Gentlemen, continued he, and therefore pray fall too, and spare not: After two or three Cups more round the Table, at the request of the company, he gave them an account of his coming acquainted with her, and his assisting of her in making her escape from a jealous Husband, and how he had waited on her to Saragossa.  
At last they drank so long, that they were all past drinking, and it was so late, that the Master of the House came and desired the Company to get to their Beds, if they could find them, for that Night, telling them that the next day would be long enough for them to sing the Second part to the same Tune, if they pleased: With that our brave Pilgrim having discharged the reckoning, was led into his Chamber, and put to Bed, and the rest of the Company did the like.  
The next morning one of the Marquis' Servants coming at that House to visit one that had lately been his fellow Servant, he is informed of a certain Pilgrim newly come from Barcellonna, who had talked much of a Marquioness, and that he had drank her Health, with some of his own Countrymen, till they were past drinking for that bout. The Fellow hearing this, without any further inquiry into the Business, concluding within himself, that it was the same Pilgrim that they had left in prison at Barcellonna, he immediately returns home with this news to his Master, assuring him that the Pilgrim by some means or other being got out of Prison at Barcellonna, was come thither. There needed no more to set our Jealous Marquis on the fret; he presently tells the Fellow that he had so great a confidence in him that he would leave the management of that business to him, not doubting but he would faithfully serve him in it: Which was to get that Pilgrim to be put in Prison, to that purpose he writes a Note to a Justice who was something akin to him, to have the business done out of hand, letting him know that it was a great Malefactor who had broke out of Prison at Barcellonna, where he was detained for horrid Crimes, and was come into that City under the disguise of a Pilgrim: He immediately sent his Servant about it, assuring him that he would consider his care and diligence in the business; and gave him a special charge to see him cast in prison, and loaded with Irons, with astrickt order that no body should be admitted to speak with him: Presently after the poor Pilgrim was taken out of his Bed with his  half on and half off, and dragged to prison like a Dog, after the cruel manner which they usually do in that Country, where he remained a close Prisoner.  
While things were in this posture at the City of Saragossa. Camille little dreaming how he was used there, was recovering of Father Andrew at Narbona, that they might in diligence overtake the Marquis at Saragossa, where he hoped he would make some little stay; and finding that the good Father was in a Condition to begin the Journey, and as willing to serve him as ever, to which purpose Camille had given him to understand that he was a Person capable of protecting him from all dangers, and of requiting him very bountifully. They set forwards towards Saragossa, where being arrived, it was their lot to Inn at the very house, whence the Pilgrim had been taken out.  
The next morning after their arrival, Father Andrew was enquiring of his host whether he knew not of a certain Marquis and Marquioness that were lately come into that City from Barcellonna. The Host made answer, that there was a Marquioness, or Marquis, or something of that quality, that was lately come from Barcellonna, who lived very privately, not far from thence, which he had heard of by, he could not remember whom: Presently the good Father, runs to Camille, and acquaints him of the discovery which he had already made, at which they both concluded by several circumstances, that it must of necessity be the beautiful Marquioness, who it was probable was kept up so privately by her Husband. The next thing was how to get her informed of their being come to Saragossa, with the same design of serving her, as they had expressed at Barcellonna there lay the difficulty, which could not be removed but by a more particular Information of the place, and situation of her Lodgings. To this purpose the Landlord is called up, and employed to go and learn exactly where those persons lay, and presently after returns with full Information; upon which Camille and the Father take their measures. They having debated and concluded on some thing: Father Andrew is sent to go take private lodgings near that place, but as he goes down Stairs he meets with his Host whom he takes along with him, to show him the House wherein the Marquioness lay. The Father having taken good notice of it, sends back mine Host, and taketh lodgings close by it; after which returning to Camille, he gave him an account of what he had done, and presently they caused their goods to be removed. They being in their new lodgings; the next thing which was thought on was, that Father Andrew should insinuate himself into the Company of the Marquis his Landlord, to learn of him how things were, that was presently done; and in a short time the good Father was informed, that he did not know what persons lived in his House, nor how many they were that he had never seen any of them, but one Maid Servant; that if they were such great persons, as had been reported, they had doubtless for some great reason and design, left their retinue behind them, and lived extraordinarily retired, never stirring out of their Chamber, where all their necessaries were brought to them, by that only Maid: The Father having been thus far informed, enquired, if it were not possible to have a Letter delivered unto the Marquioness, unknown to her Husband? He was answered, that he did not know whither there was a Husband or no in the case, and did believe that if she had one he was not with her at that time. With that a maid going by, here is their Servant, continued he, I will call her to you, and she shall inform you herself of that better than I can. He called the Maid, who being come, Father Andrew inquired of her, wehther the Marquis was with his Lady, and if it were not possible to give her a Letter without his knowledge, to which all the answer that he could get was, that she was not yet so weary of her place, is to lose it, that she liked it so well, as to have no desire to part with it to another; that she knew well enough what she had to do, and that he should mind his own business, and not go about to get her place from her; and having said this she went away, with a great deal of indignation. The good Father found by this small Trial that no good was to be expected that way, he therefore bethought himself of another expedient, and with fair words and promises did require of the Master of the House that he would lend him the Key of his Garden door that at night he might get into it, where he made no question but by some means or other, he would find out some way to let the Lady know of his being there, which she would be very glad to hear. The Landlord making some doubts at it, pretending that he might by that means lose his Lodgers, the ingenious Father did presently remove those scruples, in dropping in his hand a Pistol or two, which put the Key of the Garden Door into his possession. The good Father would willingly have been fully informed, whether the Marquis was with his Wife or not; but after divers attempts, and to no purpose, he went home, being persuaded by divers circumstances that he was absent.  
Being returned home, he informed Camille of all that he had done, telling him that it were his own fault if he got not the Lady immediately, while her Husband was absent. How do you know that he is absent? replied Camille, as for my part I am not very well assured that this is the right Marquioness, and I fear lest you may mistake in this, as when you took the Moor for Donna Barbara. To which Father Andrew said, give me leave to tell you some circumstances and to put some consequences into your head, and then judge whether it can be any other person than the Marquioness. They are lately come hither from Barcellonna, where they are very private; as to their being with no other Servant than one single Maid, thus I make it out, thus I make it out; the Marquis having it is probable some business, which called him from hence, and fearing, lest in his absence you should clear yourself to the Governor of Barcelonna so as to be released presently after, and that you might follow after him, he to conceal his Wife from your knowledge, had left his retinue at some small distance from the City; and to make the less noise, had brought his Wife in the night, only accompanied with her two Guardian Women, and that serving Maid who was to attend them, with charge never to stir forth of her Chamber till his return, after which he might return to his Servants, and take them along with him. This is the best way that he could take in such a case, replied Camille, I must confess, were he forced upon some such extraordinary occasion, to have left his Wife behind him; but I fear that nothing, could persuade him to do so: Yes, replied Father Andrew, for some few days, having such trusty Guardians to watch over her, and having mewed her up so close, as no body but himself could find her again, at least in his thoughts; Besides, why may she not be fallen sick? At least not so well, as to be carried, with so much haste as his business might require? and so be forced to leave her behind? All these are conjectures and probabilities: It may, and it may not be so, replied Camille, and neither you nor I can inform ourselves better: Well, put the Case we are in the right, what is next to be done, continued Camille? This, replied the Friar; you must have a Letter in readiness for her; you must besides make some kind of Song or Verses, which you may Sing at night under her Window, in which you must give her to understand in covered terms, that you are here in order to receive her commands: The consequence of this, replied Camille, will be, that we shall alarm her Guardians, who will reward us with the same presents as the Marquis received at Barcellonna; and that at the Marquis his return, they will inform him of the business, and so our design will be lost, and all hopes of setting on foot any other by our discovery. To this I answer, replied the Father, that you must not mention any thing that can be understood, but by the Marchioness herself; that though the Guardians are awakened, we shall find some way to convey the Letter privately to the Marchioness, and that we shall after that, through her own assistance, get her off before the Marquis his return. Well, replied Camille, it is but the venturing of a suit of  and my Theorbo, I will give you the satisfaction of going with you at night, and to that purpose I will go about the Letter and the Verses.  
At night Camille, and Father Andrew came to the Garden door of the Marchionesses Lodgings, the Father goes to open it, but after he had fumbled a good while without success, they were forced to leave the Key in the Lock, and to get into the Garden over the Wall, where Camille began to tune his Instrument at a distance, which done, he afterwards drew nearer and Sang: He had not proceeded far, when the House door, that came into the Garden was suddenly thrust open; at which, Camille stepped aside behind a Statue, presently came out running with their Swords in hand, three persons, very furiously, which made the good Father to make towards the place that he had come in at, where by the advantage of a Terrace walk, he nimbly got over the Walk into a back Street, and from thence immediately home. The pursuers finding the Garden door locked; they sought up and down the Garden after their prey, which gave time to Camille to remove his Station; he was passing cross the walk, close by the door of the House; when a Woman taking him by the hand, come follow me, said she, I will put you out at the Street Door and go along with you; though I am not so well provided now, as I would have been, had you but stayed till to morrow night; with that she led him out by the Street-door, where she thus continued to speak. It fell out very ill, that my Brothers should be so unluckily awakened by the singing at the next Neighbours, under the new comers window, as I imagine: I hope, Alphonso, that you are, and will be sensible of what I do for you; How that I abandon all other interests, to follow you; and now that I have put myself into your hands, even before you could expect it, and when you did intent nothing more than a private visit to me, I hope that you will deal generously by me, and faithfully perform all your vows and protestations to me; in order to which I desire you to convey me presently to your own house, or any where else, if you think us not safe there from my Brother's search after us, and there to Marry me out of hand; that being once done you may claim me as your own, which will very much allay that prosecution, which otherwise we might expect with all the severity imaginable from my insenced Brothers. Having said this, she made a pause, as expecting his answer. Which having not, what is the matter? continued she, that you answer me not? Do you think me too forward in this Juncture, or do you relent in your affections? saying this, she held back Camille, who was still going a round pace, he knew not where; I will be satisfied continued she, before I go a step further. Camille then seeing a necessity of undeceiving that person, he led her towards the middle of the Street, where there was a little more light, and lifting up his head, he gave her time and opportunity to see her mistake, by looking in his Face. So soon as she saw Camille, making a great shriek, she endeavoured to snatch her hand out of his, and would have gone from him; when Camille finding that it was time for him to speak, said, Madam, be not so affrighted as you are; but assure yourself that you are fallen into the hands of a Gentleman, who though a stranger in these parts, will serve and protect you with his Life, from any danger whatsoever; be pleased but to recollect yourself a little, continued he, finding that she did still endeavour to get away; and cast not yourself into unnecessary inconveniencies by your needless apprehensions; do but command me, let me but know what is most expedient that I should do for you at present, and you will find, that I shall obey with all the respects and diligence imaginable. These words being delivered by Camille, with an accent and grace, which did speak him what he was, did somewhat settle again the trembling Lady, who took the boldness to say, Sir, if in my late misfortune I have had so much happiness as to fall into the hands of a Gentleman, that will not make use of the advantages that my mistake and the darkness of the Night has given him; show yourself such, by immediately bring me back to that place, where I first did meet with you. That were not to serve you, replied Camille, but rather to prostitute you, to your Enemy's Fury. Therefore, rather inform me, Madam, where I may convey you into the hands of that person, for whom you took me, who without question, will glad lie receive you into his protection. If I am so happy, replied the Lady, as to have met with so generous a person; I shall be obliged to return my thanks to Heaven, for having sent me in such an extremity, so favourable an assistance, which I might not have expected from those of my own Nation, had I been so unfortunate as to have fallen in any of their Hands, with all these disadvantages. You lose time. Madam, replied Camille, and know not how soon you may be overtaken and surprised; I have already declared to you, that I am not of this Nation, and I add to it, that though my lodgings are not far from this place, I neither know where I am at present, nor which way to retrieve them, and did I know, I should not go about to do it till I had left you safe, where you desire to be; therefore I once more humbly entreat you, Madam, to guide me where you would have me to conduct you: You see, continued Camille, that day gins to break, and should you be found at this time of the night in the open Streets with a man, you may guests at the dangerous consequences. I know not where to go, replied the Lady, for I am ignorant of Don Alphonso's House, therefore I must entreat you to lead me any where, till I have the opportunity to send to him to come to me. Camille was going to reply, when he perceived a man coming in haste towards them, who said, Sir, if you are a Gentleman, pray assist me against the odds that my Enemies have over me, at this the Gentlewoman knowing by his voice that it was her Friend: Oh! my Alphonso, cried she, running towards him: Here is a Gentleman, continued she, looking on Camille, that the Heavens have sent on purpose to assist us. This did somewhat calm the jealous Spaniard. Who began to look sourly upon that person, whom he had found in private with his Mistress; but presently the Lady's Brothers coming up, with their Swords drawn, they cried here he is, which interrupted their further discourse, by falling upon Alphonso, which made Camille to draw likewise, and to assist the weakest side.  
The clashing of the Swords did presently call some of the watch to them, before any hurt was done, which made every one shift for himself, by good fortune the Watch following the three Brothers; they gave time to the others to get off. But they not finding the Lady where they had left her, nor no where thereabouts, they went to search a little further, where Camille found himself just before his own door, meeting there with Father Andrew, who had the Lady by the hand; he being impatient at Camille's absence had gone out with a design to seek after him, and passing by just when they were fight, and perceiving a Lady standing by, much affrighted, taking her to be the Marchioness, he had led her toward his Lodgings, and she being so surprised at the sight of her Brothers, had given her hand to the first comer, without considering who it was. They were all very glad to meet so luckily in that place: Alphonso told Camille, that he was infinitely obliged to him for his generous assistance, without which he must doubtless have fallen under the disadvantage of his Enemy's Swords. Sir, replied Camille, this is no place to use compliments in, and I judge it dangerous for you both to appear any more in the Streets this Night, while your Brothers are yet in the pursuit of you. Neither would it be safe for us to retire to my House yet, said Alphonso: You say right, answered Camille, therefore if you please to accept of what accommodation my Lodgings and the house will afford, you shall find there a hearty welcome, where you may remain safe, and as private as you please, till you have the leisure and conveniency to retire yourselves where-else you shall think fit. Alphonso having returned Camille humble thanks, turning to the Lady, Madam, said he, since it is dangerous in having you any further this night, lest that you should fall again into the hands of your Brothers, if you please, we will be further engaged unto this gallant person, in accepting of his kind offers; at which the Lady made answer, I am willing to accept of this Gentleman's Civilities; but it shall be upon condition that you shall presently send for a Priest to Marry us: replied the Lady, and you, Sir, continued she, addressing herself to Camille, you shall engage to me before I enter, that you will do me the favour to give me to this Gentleman; he knows what a considerable Fortune I bring along with me, in spite of my Brothers, able to re-establish his broken Fortune; and when once my Brothers know that I am his by Marriage, they will lay aside their anger, and desist any further prosecutions. Camille and Don Alphonso having promised that she should have all the satisfaction that she should require; they went up Stairs, where, while the Priest was sent for, and a Chamber getting ready for them, Camille gave them the best entertainment that he could; and an account of his Amours, and of the cause of all the disorders of that Night, through the Song, which he had applied in a wrong place. After his, Alphonso and Camille renewed their Compliments, with assurances of services on either side, and so they contracted a Friendship, which proved more durable than is usual between a Spaniard and an Italian; after a while the Priest being come, they were Married, and then they retired into that Chamber that had been fitted for them, where Camille having conducted them, he took his leave and left them, to go to his own Bed, and presently after Father Andrew did the like.  
The next morning the good Father, who was always diligent in such affairs, goes to the Marquis his Landlord again, and telling him that he had been disappointed by entangling the Key with other things in his Pocket, which pulling out, he had dropped and could not find again: That he desired him to get another made; and giving the man a double Pistol, to stop all replies and put offs, here is to pay for it continued he, I shall come again in the Evening, therefore pray let it be ready against then: The Landlord was going to reply with a sour Face, as if he did not like it, and had no mind to get another Key: But the cunning Father perceiving it: It may be that it will cost more. Y'are in the right, continued he, and giving him another Pistol, if that will not do, I will bring you more when I come to fetch it; at this the Landlord being overcome, he did promise him to get a Key ready against Evening.  
By that time that Father Andrew was returned, Alphonso and his Lady were visited by Camille, they desired him to let them have a Messenger to send to Alphonso's House for some of his Servants to come to him; it was done accordingly; and Alphonso having writ some Letters to some of his particular Friends, inviting them to come and accompany him and his Bride home; he sent one of his own Servants with them, and sent another home, to give order that all things should be got in a readiness fit to receive him and his Friends; not long after, there came divers of the new married couples Friends to offer their Services: To whom Don Alphonso and his Lady returning thanks, they both recommended to their Friendship, Camille, and after the first usual compliments were over, Alphonso and his Bride, went, accompanied with a considerable number of Friends and Servants, in divers Coaches unto Don Alphonso's House, where Camille and the good Father Andrew did attend them also; and towards the Evening, after they had been Magnificently treated, considering the little time to prepare things in; having taken leave of the company in general, they returned home to prepare for the night expedition.  
While Father Andrew was gone for the new Key, Camille employed himself in fitting anew his Theorbo, which had been disordered in the late rancounter, it was not long before the diligent Father returned, and a little after, it being time, they went out on the second adventure. They soon did light on the right door, which Father Andrew for fear of any further mistakes, had marked with a piece of Chalk. Being entered and having shut the door upon them, for fear of any surprise from without; Camille having tuned his Instrument, he Sung to it as follows.  

Cloris, before your conquering Eyes,  
Had made my Heart your Sacrifice,  
Your Charming Voice had led the way;  
Seraphic sounds piercing my ravished Far,  
Enter my yielding Soul with full Carrear,  
And forced me Love's Laws to obey  
So that when on your beauties I once gazed,  
Resolute and amazed;  
I then decreed,  
To serve you, Cloris, with a winged speed.   

My Heart subjected to your Laws,  
Endeavoured soon to gain applause,  
In his dispatch to break your Chains;  
Beat off your Shackles, and all could be found  
In which your jealous Tyrant kept you bound  
So set an end to all your pains.  
But while to free you I was wholly bend,  
To Prison I was sent;  
In which I lay,  
Until I heard he had forced you away.   

There having been tempted to break.  
Those vows, I had made for your sake,  
I was released, I knew not how;  
Thence here I'm come, where learning you are freed,  
While I envy the hand, I bless the deed,  
And now to your commands I bow,  
Expecting a decree to fall or stand,  
From your Impartial Hand;  
I wish the Fates  
May make your heart and mind my Advocates.   
No sooner had Camille ended his Song, but he was informed from the Window that it was understood, and that he should the next Day about Evening come the same way, where there should a Servant wait on purpose to admit him, after this the Window was shut, and Camille with Father Andrew retired with all the satisfaction imaginable.  
Camille was very impatient till the hour was come to render the visit to the beautiful Marchioness. He could not sleep all night for thinking on it, which made him pass it in framing a thousand agreeble Ideas in his fancy, about the Charming entertainment; and he was in such a Rapture all the day following at the thoughts of the pleasures, which he was e'er long to enjoy, that he could neither eat nor drink, being so wholly possessed with those joys, which he already did relish in his imagination. At last did come the happy hour, he flies into his bliss, being at the Garden door, where he leaves Father Andrew to return home, he is met by a Servant Maid, who does conduct him to the Chamber, his passion is raised to such a height, at each step that he makes towards it, that he endeavours to suppress it with the apprehensions of some reverse of Fortune, for fear that his excess should transport him beyond himself; he arrives at last to the Chamber door, he enters, he perceives the Lady in an obscure place at the further end of the Chamber, he runs towards her, flings himself at her feet, and with a voice that expressed the transports of his Soul, he says, Madam, what honour do I receive in this your gracious condescension to my humble desires? My Soul is so transported at the singular favours which I now enjoy from your extreme bounty, that I want words to express my resentments; let therefore my silence, my respects, and my most humble submission, speak to you what my Tongue cannot utter. Beautiful Marchioness, behold at your Feet, continued he, a person so wholly possessed with admiration at your perfections, that it preserves a heart from the reach of the rest of your whole sex, to offer it pure and wholly at the shrine of your adorable beauty. I do acknowledge, that I am most unworthy of the least of your favour, Madam, when I consider that— Here he was interrupted by the Ladies rising from her seat, who stepping towards the light, did look upon Camille with an Eye full of indignation and revenge, which made Camille presently perceive his error, and that all that he had said, had been addressed to Donna Barbara Dayamonte in lieu of the Marchioness. He riseth, and being struck dumb, he remains as motionless as a Statue, which gave time to Donna Barbara to express her resentments after this manner. Thou the most ungrateful, and the unworthiest of all men; have I abandoned my honour to the censure of the whole world? have I forsaken an Husband, and all other interests, to come after thee? and is it thus that thou requitest me? I will be revenged: and since that I cannot by any means imaginable enjoy thy Life, I will be the Author of thy Death: Yes, Traitor, I will immediately send for the Marquis, whom thou hast so abused, that in my presence he may take a full revenge of thee, that my Eyes and my Heart may have the satisfaction of seeing thee perish before me. With that she commands aloud that the door should be locked without side, which was presently done within Camille's hearing, after which she continued to vent her rage against him, with such passionate words, that poor Camille was never so amazed at any thing in all his Life, and of truth it did concern him; he found himself in the power, and at the mercy of an Incensed woman, who doubtless would give a full scope to all her resentments, and satisfy her splenetic revenge at his cost; there was no retreating; to offer to make his way back by force, were to oblige her the sooner to call for help; amongst which the Marquis would not be forgot: To remain there without giving her some kind of satisfaction, were but to exasperate her the more. After divers debates within himself, concerning what he should do, he resolves to appease her in some measure with kind words, fair promises, and humble submissions thereby to regain his liberty. In this design he approaches the Bed whereon she had thrown herself, and bowing down: Madam, said he, I must confess that my surprisal has been so great to find you here, when I thought you to be at Barcellonna, that I am not yet able throughly to recollect myself; and I find that some time must be allowed me for it, which I humbly beg for, mean time all that I have to say for myself, is, that believing that you had been so fully prevented by your Husband in your designs, and I having to received orders from him never return to Barcellonna upon pain of Death, this had made me wholly give over all future hopes of ever having the happiness of seeing you again; and on the other hand, had brought me here in pursuit of the Marchioness, to renew with her my former affections, and if— Here Donna Barbara interrupted him, saying: But here I am, where in spite of all oppositions, contemning all dangers, and treading all other considerations under feet; I am come in pursuit of the most ungrateful of men; but if I must perish, I will first break your measures, and have the satisfaction to see my Rival deprived of all hopes of possessing that which is refused unto my affections. Madam, replied Camille, I am sensible of the infinite obligations that I own you; and if you but please to allow me some small time to wean myself from any further thoughts on the Marchioness, I shall acknowledge what you have done for me, with all the respects and gratitude imaginable; and if you will have so much bounty, as to attribute my former actions unto the excess of a blind passion, which made me pay to another, that which was with more justice due to you, I shall for the future address my vows here only, and limit my happiness within the compass of that esteem which you are pleased to express for me; though so unworthy of that happiness. At this turn, Donna Barbara looked up, and holding forth her hand, he took it, and kissed it; he found that she would have him to help her up by it, which he did; after which, they having had some further discourses, in order to a more ample reconciliation, and better understanding for the future, she released her Prisoner, upon condition, that he should daily visit her, the same way as he had done that Evening, until they were resolved upon some course, to free themselves absolutely from all the governor's pursuits, and to get out of his power. All which Camille having promised to perform, he took his leave of her, and returned home.  
Father Andrew, very impatient to learn what success Camille had had, did no sooner see him, but with a cheerful countenance, he inquired how the Marchioness had entertained him; but when Camille had informed him of the mistake, the good Father's looks did so visibly change, that no body would have took him for the same man; yet after some little pause that the amazement had caused; Well, Sir, said he, what is done cannot be helped, but to prevent further troubles, let us make what diligence we can to find out the right Marchioness, and to see what may be done with her, before you are obliged to pay any further respects to Donna Barbara; to that purpose I will visit all the Churches in the City, but I will find out the Marquis, or at least meet with some body that will inform me of him: This being concluded on, they went to Supper, and from thence to Bed, where Camille had full leisure to reflect on the oddness of this last adventure, and of the means to prevent further inconveniences, for which he thought no way better than a quick dispatch, in getting the Marchioness at liberty.  
In the morning Father Andrew goes to the great Church, where after some time he sees the Marquis come in; he waits behind a Pillar, till he had finished his devotions, and then traces him home, and now what's to be done, but to return to Camille, and give him an account of the discovery, and consult together, how to inform speedily the Marchioness of their being at Saragossa, because that other ways Donna Barbara's expectations from Camille might spoil all, if not answered according to her desires. After some time spent in debates, it is concluded that the good Father should be disguised like one of those women which go from House to House in those Countries, felling of women's little Trinkets; for there, they have not the great conveniency of three Exchanges, to pick and choose in, lest they should make choice of such ware, as their Husbands would be very unwilling to pay for. No sooner concluded but executed, and while the one is dressing up like a very neat old Woman, to which the withered beardless Face, did not a little contribute, the other was writing a Note which was to be secretly conveyed to the Marchioness. The Father is fitted with all necessaries, the Note is conveyed very smooth into a Glove, and the brisk old Woman, being in a perfect readiness, goes to the Marquis House: She meets with a Servant, of whom she inquires if she can be admitted with her Ware to the Marchioness. I have such choice of curious things, said she, as I am sure will please her very well. At this time, she is not to be spoken with, replied the Servant. That is, because that she knows not what excellent things I bring, replied the old Woman: but if she did, I should not be here so long without being called in, I tell you, replied the Servant, that she is now busy, that the Marquis is at present with her, in her Chamber, and that therefore you must come again some other time. At the word Marques the good old Woman was willing to be satisfied, to return, and to let the business alone till some other time, when that bugbear were not in the way. In this resolution she gins to retire, when the Marquis coming by from his Wife's Chamber, he inquires what that Woman would have. It was now time to put on a good Face, nothing but the height of confidence with a good courage can carry off the old Woman, therefore she briskly answers; that she was come to show the Marchioness some choice things, which she hoped would please her, that if he pleased to order that she might be admitted, she was confident, that she should give the Lady full content. The Marquis, who ever since the Pilgrim's last seizure, had been somewhat more complaisant to the Marchioness, than before, had a mind to give his Wife some little present, out of this Woman's store; he therefore turning back again, said, Come follow me: At the word, follow, our old Woman did look upon her plot as been utterly spoilt, and was resolved not so much as once to mention the Gloves wherein lay the Letter, nor to let them be seen. The Marquis enters his Wife's Chamber, and tells her that he had brought her a woman with some things, of which he would have her make choice. The Marchioness, who was then somewhat out of humour, at the news of the Pilgrims second imprisonment, told him that she needed nothing for the present, and that she should call some other time: The old Woman, who thought there could be nothing done so long as the troublesome Marquis was present, was very willing to retire, fearing very much a discovery; but the Marquis holding her back, said, Nay, but I have a mind to present you with something; and taking the Woman by the arm, he pulls her to the Table, and shuts the door of the Chamber, bidding her lay open her Ware: The old Woman would have given all her Shop, , and a Finger to boot, had she been quit for that, to have been in Camille's Chamber, but all the wishes in the world will not do, she was got in too far to retire; and now she must make something of it, or be lost for ever: In this extremity she displays her Merchandise; the Marquis presently ranacks in it, and bids his Wife to choose what the liked best: She with a great indifferency, merely to please him, taketh what comes next to her hand, the Marquess not pleased at it, does encourage her to look on all, and take what she liked best; and with that tosses and rumbles the whole pack from top to bottom: The old Woman had her Eye continually upon the tell-tale Glove, and still as it came uppermost, was very diligent to change its Station, and remove it a form lower; but at last the Marquis Eyes it, and finding it to his mind, takes hold of it at one end, while the old Woman presently seizes on the other, the Marquis pulls it, the old Woman holds it fast, and to get it again out of the Marquess' his' hands, she gives him the other Glove, telling him, that that which he had, had some fault in it, which should be mended if the other did sit, which she would try; with that the Marquis let's go his hold, and is so officious, that he will pull himself the other Glove on his Wife's hand, mean time the old Woman fumbles about the other, not daring to venture the pulling out of the paper, for fear of the Marquess' prying Eyes. The Marquis having pulled on that Glove, which fitted and looked very well, he asks for the other; the old Woman having no other way left to get off, presently takes the Marchionesses hand, to pull it on herself, the Marquis will have the office on't, she persists in her will, and gets it on the Marchionesses hand, do the Marquis what he could to oppose her; saying that she was ashamed to stand still and see the Marquis thus take her work out of her hand, which obliged the Marquis to desist, though grumblingly, and displeased at the over diligent old Woman's opposition; she mean time pulls on the Glove, though not with so much diligence and neatness, as had the Marquis, she busying herself at the same time, in pressing the Marchionesses Elbow with her hand, and guiding her Fingers to the Paper; the Marquis stood looking on with the greatest impatiency in the World, having not power to desist any longer from showing his dexterity, and abhorring the old Woman's bungling just as the Marchioness was sensible that there was something more than ordinary in that Glove, the Marquis takes the old Woman by the arm, and very angrily, he turns her away, to take her Employment from her: at which the Marchioness giving a shriek, Cried, You have strained my Wrist; with that, holding her other hand with her Handkerchief over the Glove and Wrist, she put by the over officious Marquis, telling him that she would not have it touched till the anguish was over. This put the Marquis quite out of humour, who fell a grumbling at the old Woman, while that his Wife having bid one of her Servants to carry those things which she had chosen, into her Closet, she followed her to lay them up; so soon as the Woman had laid them down, she sent her back for to know what they came to, and to ask of the old Woman if she had not some effences, mean time she takes out the Paper in which she read.  
Your Pilgrim's Agent, here demands, That you would send him your commands.  
And having found a short piece of Black-lead Pencel, in one of the Fingers, so soon as she had sent the Woman of another errand, while her Husband was paying the old Woman, she writ on the other side of the paper,  
This Night, in the Garden, under my Closet Window; and having conveyed it into the Glove again, she unripped some seams between the Fingers, and gave it the old Woman, telling her, that she should get it mended; the Marquis was going to lay hands on it again, but the old Woman being too nimble for him, thrust it into her pack amongst her other things, saying, that she would bring it again sometime that day, or the next at farthest, and taking leave she was going off, when the Marquis seizing her by the Hand, and pulling her back again, did give her and his Wife a fresh alarem, but it lasted not long; for the busy Marquis did soon put them out of it in bidding the old Woman to leave the money which she had received for the Gloves, till she came again, the money being readily rendered by the good Woman, she presently went her way, with an assurance of returning again with the Glove mended to their liking.  
The good Father Andrew being got off thus, with flying Colours, was so puffed up with good success, that he thought nothing could be above his achievements, he was so prepossessed with that good opinion of himself, that going out of the Chamber, in lieu of taking his leave after the manner of the Matrons, he was for bowing forwards with his hands a cross, in a Fryer-like Salutation; but rectifying himself, before notice was taken, he got off with credit, and was not long before he returned to Camille; where in giving him a full account of his good success, he was not wanting in expressing the Marquess' over-diligence, and to trumpet forth his own praises in his dexterous avoiding of all the Husbands troublesome pryings into the mysterious part of the late contrivance; and giving the Glove to Camille, he found in it what the Marchioness had writ.  
Businesses being brought to that pass, with the Marchioness, Camille's next care was to pacify still more and more, Donna Barbara, and so prevent her from spoiling his designs, which she might easily do, but with one word writing to the Marquis; if she had but the least suspicion imaginable of Camilles correspondency with her Rival. This made him, so soon as it was Evening, to render her a visit. She received it very kindly, and they were entered upon a very amorous entertainment, when the Maid came running into the Chamber, and as well as her fright and haste would permit her, she told them, that there was a Person of quality at the Street-door, that was setting a Guard upon it; after that he had done the same at the backdoor, with a charge to let no body go out of the house, on what account soever, without his further orders. Presently people were heard to come up stairs, which made her to run our of the Chamber again, and to lock the door after her; one asked aloud which was the Chamber, which being told, and finding it shut, it was broke open; yet not so suddenly, but that Donna Barbara, had time to convey Camille into her Closet, where he resting on his knees and hands, she spread a Carpet over him, and gently seating herself upon him, as on a stool, in that posture she waited (with the Closet door open, that she might the sooner be perceived) till those persons were entered her Chamber.  
The Door being broken down, in rushes the Governor of Barcellonna: After he had left two Servants to guard the Chamber door, with a strict charge to let no body go out of it. So soon as the Governor had espied his Wife, he cried out, Oh! are you there, Madam? I must find out you Minion also, if he is here, that I may pay him my respects: This said, he searched all over the Chamber and Closet, flinging the Bed and Bedding all over the Room, and leaving not one hole or corner unvisited, not so much as a Window, or the Chimney escaping him; but having not found what he sought after, he returns to his Wife, and taking her off of her seat: Come, Madam, since I am so unfortunate as not to meet with your devout Pilgrim, give me leave in his absence to supply his office, and to lead you in some place more secure, than you find this to be: With that he leads her out, giving a special care to the Servants to watch the Door till his return, and to let no body in; then he conveys her into a Coach, and from thence into a Nunnery, where he left her in the Care of the Abbess, who was a Kinswoman of his Wives.  
He was returning to his Wife's Lodgings, to pack up all that she had left there, when he espied the Marquis that stood at his Gardens back Door, they would willingly have shunned one another, but not being able to avoid their approaches, they were forced to Salute: The Marquis was very much surprised to see the Governor of Barcellonna at Saragossa, where, when he came first himself, he did not design to stay above five or six days, only to view the City. The Marquis having given the Governor an account of his Wife's Health, and enquired of his and his Ladies, the Governor gave him a brief account of her late escape from him, which had made him to seek after her there, where he had found her, but not the wicked Pilgrim, who he verily believed had debauched her; at which the Marquis smiling, made answer, that he had done that work for him three days since, and that he had sent him to Prison, where he was safe enough. They finding themselves Companions in the same affliction, though there were great odds; and that their Wives zealous devotions to the holy Pilgrim, could not be allayed so easily, the Marquis was invited by the Governor, to go with him to his Wife's late Lodgings, where he was to return, that they might pass away the residue of the Evening together, and consult how to rescue their Wives, for the future from that Devilish Pilgrim's temptations. The Governor did prevail, and they took Coach to that purpose.  
The Governor returned with the Marquis to his Wife's Lodgings. They were not long before they fell into a very serious discourse of their Wives; and amongst other things, the Marquis was saying, that if ever that Pilgrim should get out of Prison again, he would certainly be the ruin of them both, to their own shame and confusion: That therefore they were so to order the business, as to have him condemned and executed, which would be a a certain way to be for ever rid of him; all this was in the hearing of Camille, with divers other things and contrivances, in which they did spend a considerable time.  
Mean while, diligent Father Andrew, who was always upon the watch, having had an account of all that had passed, and not hearing a word mentioned of Camille, who was not returned to his Lodgings, he concluded that he had hid himself in Donna Barbara's Chamber, whence he durst not adventure forth, so long as the Governor should be there; he ponders within himself, what he had best to do for his deliverance, before the time of the Night were come, that they were to repair under the Marchionesses Window in the Garden, he returns to his Lodgings the better to contrive the business. A little after there came a Messenger from the Prison, with a Letter directed to the Marchioness, without a name, lodging in such a Street. When the Marquis had caused the Pilgrim to be committed, he had given charge, that in case the Prisoner should desire Pen and Ink, that it should be granted to him, but that whatsoever he should write to be sent forth, should be immediately brought to him: This had been done accordingly; but the Messenger being at the Marquess' House, had been sent here after him. The Marquis having received it, opened it, and read as follows.  
Madam,  
WHen I was first committed, I made no doubt but that you would take some care for my immediate release; the want of which makes me now trouble you with these lines, to let you know, that notwithstanding the late favours that you were pleased to bestow on me, I am become one of the most miserable Creatures imaginable; for though through your generous bounty, I have wherewith to keep me from present want, yet the loss of my Liberty is such a Misery, as cannot be expressed. Seeing that it was in your Service that I got this affliction, I humbly entreat you to endeavour forthwith my Enlargement, and to take me from suffering under those sad effects of your Jealous Husband's too severe hand, without which I shall quickly be in my Grave, by which means you will lose the most humblest of your Servants.  
This Letter being read, the Marquis and the Governor could not but admire at once, both the simplicity and impudence of this Pilgrim; yet the Governor did take notice, that this was not writ in such a stile as the Pilgrim used to express himself when he was at Barcellonna. The Marquis made answer, That it was probable that his imprisonment, and the thwarting of his designs, without hops of redress, had rendered him so melancholic as to discompose his mind. While they were thus spending their Verdict and descanting on the Pilgrim's Letter, there was another brought to the Marquis, which having opened, he read as follows.  
My Lord,  
THere is a Friar of St. Dominicks Order here, who is very importunate to speak with the Pilgrim, and will not be denied; notwithstanding his Character, I would not give him admittance to the Prisoner without your order: I have inquired his name, which he was very unwilling to discover; yet in hopes to speak with the Pilgrim, he has told me that he is called Father Andrew, he is very pressing, and I shall keep him here in discourse and hope, till I hear your answer, which you will be pleased to send back by this Messenger to me.  
This last Letter did so surprise them both, that looking on one another, they remained mute; at last the Governor said, that they ought not to let slip so fair an opportunity, of punishing their Wives diligent Mercury. No, no, replied the Marquis, that would be a great oversight, I will immediately go to the Prison and have him seized on, and I will along with you, said the Governor; for I long to see how strangely he will be surprised at the sight of us: Thus you see, replied the Marquis, that the wicked seek their own ruin, and bring themselves to receive the punishment due to their offences. Well, replied the Governor, now is the time to secure both these wicked men, that they shall never more be in any Capacity of debauching our Wives. Let's be going, replied the Marquis, and lose no time, for fear he be gone before we come, and that we lose this fair opportunity of seizing him: With that they did immediately take Coach to the other end of the City, where was the Prison.  
They were no sooner got out of the House, but the politic Father Andrew, of whose contrivance the Letter was, came in, he goes up Stairs, and having asked which was the Chamber that belonged to the Governor of Barcellonna; it was showed him by one of the Guards, he draws near it, and is repulsed, and told, that no body was to go in there: I know, replied the subtle Father, that your Orders are to let no body in, but you are not hindered from letting any person go out, especially when I am sent on purpose by the Governor for them. There is no body there, replied one of the Servants: It were strange indeed, replied the Father, than they are gone out before I came for them, and yet I have made what haste I could from the Governor and the Marquis; I came here directly, and have not met by the way, that Person that I come for: But I lose time, and the business presses. Signior Camille, continued he with a loud Voice, you must leave off your watching, for he that you wait for has been a Prisoner these three days, and you must immediately go along with me to the Governor, that stays for you; come forth and I will deliver you my Errand punctually: This was spoken with so much confidence by the Friar, that the Servants presently opened the Door, and forth came Camille; Now, Sir, continued Father Andrew, I must tell you that there is one Father Andrew at the Prison, that would speak with the Pilgrim Prisoner; the Governor was going to seize on him, but he has better considered on't, and therefore has sent me for you, that you should go first, and bring him certain word, whether it be that Person that he means, or not, whom he says you know very well. This did the good Father speak with so much readiness, that Camille himself was startled at it; and the Servants having heard the Governor and the Marquis discourse of it, before they went forth, they made no scruple in the least to let him go: Camille and the Friar got home to their Lodgings, where they had leisure to recollect themselves, to laugh at their Cullies Credulities, and to prepare against the time of going under the Marchionesses Window.  
Mean time the Governor and the Marquis are carried with all the diligence possible unto the Prison, contriving all the way how to punish this wicked and most abominable Friar; at last they get thither, and presently inquire of the Keeper where was the Friar. What Friar do you mean, replied the Keeper? Father Andrew, Father Andrew, replied the Marquis hastily; I hope you have not let him go, continued he? Never talk of that, said the Governor, where is he, where is he? What have you done with him? said the Marquis. The Keeper amazed at their earnest inquiries, stood staring sometime on one, some time on the other, without saying a word. Pray, says the Governor to him, convey us where he is, and if you can, so as that we may see him without discovering ourselves: Nay, it were much better, now I think on't, said the Marquis, to place us so as that we might hear him discourse with the Pilgrim, and not be seen. Doubtless, replied the Governor, but we should make some notable discoveries, and therefore go let him into the Pilgrim, while we stay here till you come back to lead us where we may hear them. Let it be as of your own accord, said the Marquis, and be quick, for I long to hear what new piece of Villainy they are consulting of; at this they both pausing a while, wondering that the Keeper did not stir, he had time to say, I assure you, My Lord, that you have both so surprised me, I know not what to think, much less what to say; neither do I scarce know where, or who I am; I have heard you all this while, speak of a Friar and a Pilgrim, but I know no more what you mean by it, than the Man in the Moon. Then rubbing of his Eyes, and yawning, Let me see, continued he, am I asleep still, or do I wake? Though I was sleeping when you came, certainly I am now awake, or how should I stand thus else, continued he strutting, and speak thus to you; nay, see and hear you too? And yet I do protest to you, that I know nothing at all of any Friars being here: At this the Marquis showed him the Letter, and said, did you not send me this Letter, about half an hour since? Who I, send a Letter, replied the Keeper? I was then dreaming of other things, I can assure you, continued he; and I have neither writ, sent, or so much as thought of a Letter, this day, except that which I sent you from the Pilgrim a while since; then looking on the Letter, which the Marquis had given him; neither is this my hand writing, alas! I could never write a quarter so well: This the Keeper's story, made the Marquis and the Governor, in their turn to be mute and look on one another; they concluded that this had been some trick of their Wives, not without some designs: As for mine, said the Governor, she is at present safe enough from doing any mischief of that nature: And mine, said the Marquis, has not had a Pen and Ink since I have Married her, except the Devil has supplied her with one of late; I rather believe, that it is that cursed Friar himself, that has thus shamed us: But to what purpose, replied the Governor? To nothing that is good, you may be certain, answered the Marquis; and for my part I will hasten home, where I think my presence more necessary than here; with that they took leave of one another, and went each to their own home.  
So soon as the Governor was returned, he enquired of his Servants who had been there, they answered him, no body, but the little ancient Gentleman whom he had sent to fetch the other Gentleman, that had been left in the Chamber to watch for the Pilgrim. How, said the Governor, a man left in the Chamber to watch for the Pilgrim. How? said the Governor, a man left in the Chamber, and now gone out, while you two stand at the Door and permit it? With that drawing his Sword, You Villains, continued he, I'll be the death of you both; how many were there to force him from you? What resistance have you made? And if you were over powered, show me your wounds? Where is the blood that you have spilled in making opposition? At these high words, both the poor Fellows, falling on their knees, gave him an exact account of the whole passage, and with tears in their Eyes, asked him pardon for their Error. The Governor presently entered the Chamber, and while he was considering where this person could be hid, he was thinking also who it should be; at last, he concluded that there was some great mistake in the business, and did believe that the Marquis had lighted on the wrong Pilgrim, who he had secured while the damned right one had been hid in his Wife's Chamber, whence his special agent, that wicked Father Andrew, had got him out by framing of that Letter: This did set him in such a rage, that he would not so much as give the Marquis an account of his thoughts, which he concluded to be certain; but the next morning early he went to the Monastery, whence having taken out his Wife, he returned with her to Barcellonna, where he used her as he pleased.  
The Marquis, all this while, had not been wanting in diligently enquiring of all the Servants, who had been there, and examining of the two Guardian Women, so tormenting them, that one of them named Zora, being tired out with his frivolous repeated questions, and fretting at his unreasonable threatening of them, for letting his Wife have the conveniency of writing, she knowing herself innocent, did at last tell the Marquis, that there was no Hell, like living with a Man so strangely jealous as he was, which did set the Marquis in such a fury, that he struck her, which made her run into the Marchionesses Chamber with Tears in her Eyes: The Marchioness asked what was the matter, to which Zora answered; That, Madam, which in a short time shall turn to your advantage. The Marchioness who had designed to sit up till the Marquis was returned, lest that he going his usual rounds before going to Bed, should meet with the Letter, which his Wife did intent for Camille; hearing that the Marquis was coming to bed, went and dropped the Letter, so retiring, she put herself in Bed; while the Marquis was undressing he did nothing but grumble, fret, and threaten, in a word, the false Letter had set him quite out of humour.  
The hour come, which was about the darkest part of the Night, Camille got over the Wall with the active Father Andrew into the Garden; for though the good Father had no great business there, yet he loved so well the sport, that Camille could not prevail with him to stay at home: They were not got half way the walk, which led from the Garden Door to the House, when Father Andrew, whose Eyes were always upon the watch, did perceive something that moved at the end of the other end; this put him to a stand, and made him take Camille by the arm, and hold him back: Stay, said he, I think I see some body that is waiting for us, let us retire while we can, for fear of a surprise: Camille looking earnestly also, said, I do see something move, but is not tall enough to be a man, and I rather believe that it is some Dog, which though not so dangerous, may, I fear discover cousin, and spoil our design. Father Andrew was for a retreat, and Camille was for leaving the broad Walk, and striking into the lesser Allies to go round by the Wall side to discover what it were, without being perceived; but the good Father having no inclination to venture any further, said, that he was sure it was no Dog, and that he would stay under the next Tree, while Camille should go make the discovery. Camille agreed to it, and went by the Wall side till he came near enough to distinguish that it was a Monkey that had broke lose from some of the Neighbourhood, who having found the Letter that the Marchioness had thrown there, he had torn it open, and was playing with it. Camille was glad that it was no worse, yet knew not which way to go about to get the Letter from that little unlucky Creature; he was still drawing nearer to him, when the Monkey did perceive him, which made him chatter so fast and so loud, all the while tearing of the Letter, that Camille thought there was no time to lose, therefore he suddenly rushed upon the Monkey, who being too nimble for him, did run away, squeaking so loud that the Marquis being alarmed at it, did presently get to the Window, with a Pistol in his hand, and perceiving Camille who was very busy in gathering up the pieces of Paper, that the Monkey had scattered, he discharged it at him, but to no effect.  
Father Andrew, at the noise of the Pistol, did run as fast as he could towards the place where they had left the Ladder of Ropes hanging, by which they had got over, but meeting by chance with the Monkey, which he took for a Man, his fears magnifying all objects, he ran counter, and knowing no better way, finding himself near a high Tree, he presently climbs to the top of it, where he hide himself amongst the thickest of the Leaved Branches.  
Camille having gathered all that he could find of the pieces of Paper, made what haste he could towards the place of retreat, and not seeing Father Andrew, as he passed by, he concluded that he was gone, which made him to follow after. By this the Marquis and his Servants were got into the Garden, with Guns, Pistols, Swords, and other Weapons, they search every Bush, Hedge, and Corner, but find no body, the Marquis sees a piece of Paper lying upon the ground, he takes it up, and puts it into his Pocket to peruse some other time; he was too busy then, neither had he light enough to do it. Some run to the back Gate, which is found shut, they perceive some Mortar and Stones newly dropped from the Wall which made them conclude that they were Thieus gone that way out, so that they were all returning in.  
As the Marquis was passing under a Tree, he was hit on the Hat with a piece of withered Branch, at which he presently looks up, and perceives something to move; herejoices within himself already, that he had found the Robbers of his Honour, and commands some of his Servants to get up, and fetch them down, dead or a live. While he was pondering what Torments and Racks he should make them endure, some of the Servants being got up, they heard a strange chattering, for the Monkey who had caused the dried bow to fall, finding himself pursued so close, made such a noise as presently gave to understand to his pursuers the Nature of the Beast. But the Marquess' distrustful Nature, making him suspect that it might be some Counterfeit, he commanded his Servants to pursue and take him. The unlucky nimble Creature, having no other way to avoid his pursuers, he leaps from the Tree he was on to the next, where sat the most distressed Father Andrew, whom the foolish Creature taking to be one of his Enemies, he began to squeak and chatter more than ever: Those that were upon the abandoned Tree having given notice of their Preys removal; the Marquis sent some up the other Tree, on which both the delinquents were retreated; one of the climbers went so high after this little troublesome Animal, that he perceived a certain pair of Legs, that did not belong unto so small a Beast as a Monkey. The poor Father now perceiving that he was discovered, past all hopes of Redemption, was recommending his case to all the He and She Saints, besides the Eleven thousand Virgins; when his fierce Enemy cried, Oh! have I found you out? I'll fetch you down presently: This dreadful threatening did set him into such an horror and fear, that it caused him to drop down something, which his anguish would not let him retain any longer, just in the nick of time as the fellow was gaping and looking up; which did light so full upon his Face, that it stopped his Mouth from telling any more tales for that bout; and blinded him so, that going to clear his Eyes with his Hands, he was so unfortunate as to let go his hold, which made him fall to the ground, whence he was carried away speechless. This sad accident put an end to the Chase; for the Marquis thinking that there was too much mischief done already, in the pursuit of a Monkey, did give order to all his Servants to retreat, and let the Beast alone, which they presently obeyed, taking the dead along with them.  
Father Andrew having overheard the sad accident, that had been the cause of his sad and safe deliverance; after he had returned thanks to all his Advocates, (though he thought his own industry very instrumental in it, which made him ever after, to rely very much on his own merits) finding the Coast clear, he comes down the Tree, and goes toward the place, by which he had come in, whereon he was looking very melancholic, having no hopes of getting out of the Garden, when he perceives a head peeping over the Garden-Wall: at the first his fears were going to make him run to his old post again; but presently recollecting himself, he thought that it could not be any one of the House; because that whoever did look over the Wall, must be in the Street: A little after he perceived that it was Camille; who having not found him at home, was returned with the Ladder of Ropes to get him off, if he was not taken. The poor Father did presently get over, and without speaking one word, he run as fast as he could to his Lodgings, where he gave Camille a full account of the whole adventure, while he was fitting every bit of Paper to its right place, which having done he read it as follows.  
THE news of your double deliverance, has been noless welcome to me, than the knowledge of your continuing in the generous resolution of assisting a poor afflicted Woman, wherein you express so much Charity, as sets you right in my Opinion, in spite of all that had been laid to your charge; some new Visions which my Husband has had, since the industrious old Woman was here, has so changed that fortunate good humour that he was in then, into a furious malice against me; that by some words which the excess of his passion drives forth, I had some Jealousies that he may attempt something on my Life, or at least remove me very speedily, where I shall be miserably newed up for the rest of my days without any future hopes of a deliverance; I have no way to divert this sudden and dangerous storm from falling on me, but by sheltering myself under the pretence of a fit of sickness, which may retard his designs, till you have leisure and conveniency to work my Liberty. I wish you could find a way to play the Physician, as well as I shall act the Patient's part, than I should hope that my freedom were at hand, and then you might with justice expect from me a reward suitable to your Signal Services, which could be no less, than all that I am able to dispose of, without any prejudice to my honour and to virtue. Endeavour to—  
When Camille came to that word, Endeavour, which intimated, by the abrupt breaking off, that there was something wanting of the Letter; which he having left behind, had doubtless fallen into the Marquis his hands; that joy, which had been screwed up almost to an excess, by every Character of the Letter, was instantly dashed to pieces, at the want of that small piece of Paper, which he fancied did contain great matters, and of such weight peradventure, as might enlighten the Marquis to the great prejudice, if not total ruin of the whole design: while he was thus left in the dark, he gave to that word a thousand interpretations, all of very dangerous consequences. He called himself a thousand fools, for leaving any pieces of Paper behind him; he as many times cursed that mischievous Creature, that had been the cause of it, and as oft he called himself unhappy and miserable; but all this would not bring the wanting piece of Paper to the rest; and that which added much to his sorrow, was the coldness which he found in Father Andrew, as to any further attempts in his behalf; the very thoughts of the late dangers, in which he had so lately been engaged, did make him die with very fear; not knowing but that the piece of Paper that was wanting, might inform the Marquis of the mystery of the Glove; so that Camille had much to do to buoy him up in that Sea of fears and perplexities, wherein the dejected Father was almost overwhelmed; yet after that Camille had read the Letter, and assured him, that there could be no such sense attributed to that word, representing to him, the caution with which the Marchioness did always accompany all her actions, and the utter ruin of all his hopes, if he should relent, and hearken; but when he understood what advantages and preferment, Camille did promise him, if the business were once accomplished, with the Golden earnest, which Camille did instantly give him in hand of it; he was quite vanquished, his hardheartedness did vanish with his fears, so that he promised not to forsake so bountiful a Friend, in time of need; No, said, he it shall never be said, that Father Andrew did once undertake an amorous intriegue, and left it off before it was accomplished, especially acting for a Patron of power and willingness to protect me, from all troubles and inconveniences; with that, calling for a glass of Wine to cheer up his Spirits, and stay his stomach, till brakefast was ready, he drank to Camille, a Health to the beautiful Marchioness, and to their good success; Camille was not backwards in giving him all the encouragements that he could imagine; a little after, brakefast was brought up, and they having eaten, drank, and discoursed merrily, they laid themselves to rest, tiil it was time to return with the Glove.  
Mean time the Marquis was possessed with a more violent rage than ever. The Fellow that was carried in dead, after the administering of some Cordials and bleedings, coming to himself again, had declared, that he had seen a Man on the very uppermost branches of that Tree, off of which he had fallen, who casting some thing in his Eyes, while he was looking up, had caused him to let go his hold, which was the occasion of his fall, just when he was giving notice of his discovery. The Marquis had presently sent divers Servants to search every Tree in the Garden, while he himself visited all the underwoods'; all to no purpose, the Featherless Bird being flown long before; so that being returned to his Wife's Chamber, he had given a full vent unto his fury, with such threaten, which tended to the giving her of a Spanish Fig, that there were causes to fear some such sad effect, at some time or other This did strike such a terror in the Marchioness' mind, that she had no occasion to counterfeit, for she fell into a fever, though not very violent. Then she took a full resolution, in order to save her own life, to make use of the Pilgrim's offers; though she had once been in the mind to refuse them, fearing that he should expect, as a reward, that which she could not, nor ought not to give.  
This sudden illness of the Marchioness, did make the Marquis, so soon as the fury of his passion was over, to send for a Physician, by the solicitation of Zora, which were joined to her Lady's desires; yet with so much discretion, that the Marquis took no further notice of it. A Servant was going for a Doctor, when at the Street-Door he met with the old peddling Woman, who was come to bring back the Glove. Who desired to have it delivered to the Marchioness; the Servant answered, that it could not be now, because that she was fallen very ill of a sudden of a Fever, and that he was sent to seek for a Doctor; but that being a Stranger, he knew not where to go. Alas! a-well-a-day, said the old Woman, I am hearty sorry for it, and she has been so good a Customer to me, that I will bring you to the most eminent Doctor in Town; but he is a great Humourist, and a Man of very few words; and you must let me alone to persuade him to go. The Fellow, glad of the opportunity, goes with the brisk old Woman, who returns to Camille, and leaving the Fellow below, while she goes up to persuade the famous Doctor; she runs up to Camille, and informs him of the business, then presently going down to the Servant, she told him, that he should return home and tell them, that a Doctor would be with them immediately; and withal gave him the Glove to deliver to some of the Marchioness' Women, with which the Fellow returned home, very well contented.  
Father Andrew having thus acted the second part of the old Woman, he returns up to Camille, very glad that he had quitted his hands of that dangerous Glove; he presently advises Camille to write his mind, that he might give it to the Marchioness, while he felt her Pulse, and that he would take care to go to some Jew-Broker, and hire what was necessary to make a Doctor of Camille; Camille presently falls awriting, and Father Andrew goes, and in a trice returns again, with all things fitting, Camille having written these few lines.  
Part of your Letter was lost, I fear your Husband has found it; I am come to receive new orders, all delays for the future will be of dangerous consequences, therefore conclude on something against I visit you next, and I shall act accordingly,  
He inserted in them these following lines.  
Beauty, Madam, is not purely Ornamental, it has its other lustres and advantages likewise, which speak its celestial origine, and renders it as admirable, as it is Divine; as its powerful influences, which do produce such wonderful effects do daily verify. With what eagerness has it made the greatest Conquerors, in all Ages, to prostrate themselves before it, and to lay their Trophies at the Feet of her Altars, leaving all their other concerns unregarded, to give themselves wholly up to the admiration of its excellency? With what precipitation have the greatest Monarches descended from their Thrones, to pay homage unto its Imperial Greatness? No Rank, Quality, or Condition, escapes its power, Madam. The Priests have desisted addressing of their Vows and Prayers to their neglected Deities, to offer at her Shrine, their Incense and Adoration. And the Grave Philosophers have laid aside their numerous Volumes, to give themselves up wholly unto the contemplation of its Causes and Effects; while the whole Creation stands in an amazement at the Glory thereof. Hero's will readily change their Swords for Palmer's Staves; Kings and Emperors will Convert their Sceptres into Shepherds Hooks; Priests will turn their Bloody Sacrifices, and Enthusiastic Raptures, into fragrant Offerings, and melodious Lays: Sour Philosophers, will neglect their more crabbed part of Learning to Dream of Elysium Fields; all Conditions will forget their Interests, and transform themselves into all manner of Forms, to render themselves agreeable, and obsequiously subservient to its Commands.  
It is true, Madam, that like unto other Divinities, Beauty does make use of secondary Causes, to work those wonderful Effects. But it chief employs Love, that powerful Agent, wherewith it fills all Hearts with such a Divine Flame, as inspires and incites those whose Bosoms are warmed with it, to perform the greatest actions: For, without it, Madam, whoever did attain to more than common things? But when once a Heart is quickened by that subtle Fire, what dangerous Enterprises, what difficult Attempts, and what intricate Designs are there, which are not undertaken with as much celerity, and eagerness, as they are performed with vigour and good success?  
No wonder, Madam, if some Sparks of that Celestial Fire, having alighted upon my prepared Heart, they have filled it with a most passionate desire to become a votary unto the Altars of your excellent Beauty, to the exclusion of all other Terrestrial devotion. Deign therefore, Madam, to accept of the Offerings which I make unto you of it, and be pleased to reward, in due time, its fidelity and perseverance, with some grains of reciprocal affection.  
These lines which were both a Panegyric to Beauty, and a declaration of Love, did raise such a tender vail of tincture over all the Lilies of the Marchioness' Cheeks, as did almost termine into blushes, when she read them; she guest at what the Pilgrim did aim, which at all other times would have caused her to break all further correspondency with him, but as things stood then, not knowing how to mend herself for the present, she was glad of any opportunity, and to employ all sorts of Instruments; leaving to herself the management of the consequences hereafter.  
Camille was instantly fitted, while the good Father accoutres himself to personate the Mule-driver. They were just got ready, when news was brought up, that the Marquis his Servant was come again for the Doctor: They go immediately, the Servant leads the Van, our new vamped Doctor is in the Main, and Father Andrew brings up the Rear; they come to the Marquis his Door, the Doctor alights from his grave Beast, and is conducted up into the Lady's Chamber, which was made so dark, because that the light did offend her Eyes, and caused her Head to ache, that the Doctor was forced to be conducted to the Bedside, by one of her Women; there he feels her Pulse, gives her the Letter, and making as if he asked her some private questions, he steals a kiss from her Hand, and another from her Lips, after which he retires at some little distance from the Bed side; after which the Marquis, who had stood all the while near the Window, came and accosted the Doctor, enquiring of him, how he found his Patient, and what hopes there was; to which he made no other answer, than that he would quickly go and prescribe for her; and that when she had taken what he would send, he would be better able to give him an account; with that the Marquis gives him his Fee, and away goes our Doctor.  
The Marquis returning into his Wife's Chamber from conducting the Doctor, he is met by Zora, who tells him that the Marchioness would sleep, which made him retire, and take along with him the other Woman, that their chat might not disturb her rest.  
Zora being left single with her Lady in her Chamber, she asks how she does, and the Marchioness finding herself something better than she had been, told her so, after which Zora falls down on her knees by the Bed side, and with tears in her Eyes, she began to speak thus unto her Lady.  
Madam, you may suspect, and with much Reason and Justice, that whatsoever I shall say to you, may be to your prejudice, and with a design to entrap you, and make you more miserable yet, than you are; and of truth I must needs confess, that when I consider with what exactness I have observed and executed your Husband's orders, even with that severity, which was beyond his expectation, in which I have shown myself most inhuman towards one of my own Sex, though far above me in merits, and all sorts of respects; I then despair of ever prevailing with you, to add faith to what I shall say. Therefore, Madam, I must be forced to make use of something more than my bare words and relation, to convince you of the sincerity of my present intentions: Yet thus much I have to say for myself; that all the cruel severity that I have ever exercised against you, has never proceeded from any particular aversion, hatred, or prejudice, that I could have against your person, but from mere interest and greediness of profit, which made me think, that the more severe I should express myself against you, the better I should be rewarded by him that had employed me; I was a poor miserable Creature ready to perish for want, when the Marquis took me into his service, to be one of the instruments of his cruelty towards you; and finding the comforts of a full Table, warm covering, and other refreshments, besides the hopes of laying up something against my old age, which is coming on very fast, and then reflecting with horror, on my late and miserable condition; the apprehensions and dread of returning unto that woeful state again, and the obligations which I thought that I owed unto my Benefactor, were the true promoters of all the sorrows, troubles, and afflictions which you have since sustained through my means. But, Madam, contived she, there is no heart, though never so hard and cruel, but at some time or other will relent, and give way unto some sparks of compassion: since our arrival at Saragossa, I have had now and then some remorse and pity of your condition, which has sometime made me wish, that it were my Fortune to get a livelihood by any other means, than such as did appear to me to be against all the Rules of Humanity and Religion. This has made me to reflect upon the severity, with which you have met on all hands, (excepting Heaven, who has plentifully recompensed you in all the accomplishments of the body and mind.) First from your Parents, as I have been informed, who contrary to your inclinations, did force you to marry a Person, whom you had declared you hated, and for whom you could never have any Love; but on the contrary, that you looked upon him as the greatest of your Enemies. Then, Madam, when I added to this, that cruel Tyranny, that your jealous Husband's humour has caused him to exercise over you, without the least occasion imaginable, since the very first moment that he could call you his, and the exemplary patience, with which you have endured all his unkindnesses: These things have made me divers times wish that you were freed from that slavery in which you languish. But when lately, as I was looking out of the Window, I did see that Pilgrim, who for your sake has suffered so much already, to be dragged and haled to Prison, with as little compassion, as if it had been a Dog, it came within my thoughts, that if this poor Gentleman did suffer so much for your sake, only for endeavouring to free you from that misery you groan under; what did I deserve, that was one of the unworthy instruments of your afflictions. Yet, Madam, this is not all; that which has concluded this through Reformation in me, are those Words that your Husband does frequently let fall in his passions of late; which speak as if he would attempt something against your Life: Those indeed reached to my very Heart. These things, Madam, have made me enter into some serious considerations within myself, from them I am come to reflections, and those have brought me to a firm resolution, rather to perish, than to live through so unworthy means as I do at present; and to prefer your liberty and content, unto that prospect which I had of making my Fortune, by continuing to be your Keeper: Not without hopes, Madam, that if you should get out of your Bondage, through my affistance, you would consider my Services, and make up my losses another way. And now, Madam, to confirm what I have said, and convince you, that it proceeds from a due sense of your miseries, which has produced a perfect and sincere repentance in me; be pleased to look on this Paper: With that she gave the Marchioness that Paper, which the Marquis had taken up in the Garden; telling her that the Marquis, pulling out his Handkerchief, had dropped it; and that she having taken it up, looked on it, and found it did so much concern her, she kept it to give it her, notwithstanding the great inquiries and search which the Marquis had made after it, she having flatly denied to him, that she had seen any. The Marchioness having taken it, read as follows.  
— The Doctor, as you have formerly the Pilgrim, give me an account of your resolutions, by the counterfeit old Woman, when she brings me the Glove, who was so excellently disguised, that I did not know the good Father Andrew, till he had given me some signs of it.  
That was enough to let the Marchioness know, that this was the latter part of her Letter to the Pilgrim, which she had dropped out of her Window. This did fully confirm her, that Zora was a true Convert, which did give her very great satisfaction, but when she thought that her Husband had seen it, by which he would discover the whole Plot, she visibly changed colour, and was yielding to her sorrow, when Zora told her that she should be cheerful, and hope the best; for by the Marquis his silence, and not enquiring after the old Woman, mentioned in that Paper; it is, Madam, continued she, an argument that he has not read it, he would be so impatient otherwise to be revenged of Father Andrew, whom he mortally hates, that he could not have forborn enquiring after the old Woman an hundred times over; and besides, Madam, presently after he had let fall the Paper, he seemed much troubled, and was looking up and down for it; which makes me conclude, that he has not read it. The confusion that he was in at first, by the fall of the man from the Tree, having certainly put it out of his Head, and when he had lost it then he thought of it again. But what confirms me most of all, is, that when the Glove was given to my fellow Servant, she was met by the Marquis, who only looking on it, did return it her again, without speaking one word more, than ask whether the Woman was paid for it.  
That indeed is significant, then said the Marchioness: and now Zora, I find that I may breathe again; I believe your Conversion to be sincere and real; and I do assure you, that you shall have no cause to repent it; but on the contrary, the sooner you serve me in my designs, of freeing myself from that slavery in which I live, under continual apprehensions of losing my life, and perpetual reproaches and affronts without cause, the sooner you will feel the effects of my bounty, which I do assure you shall extend to the making you happy the residue of your days. I wanted but a Woman to assist me in my resolutions; and now I have thee, I shall willingly embrace the succour and assistance which the Pilgrim does offer me. I did fear, before, to fall alone, into the hands of a young man, who was an absolute Stranger to me and might peradventure take all the advantages that could be against me, and expect such rewards as virtue would forbid me to give: but now I will first make my own terms, and oblige him to put me into those hands that I shall think fit; for my design being not to wholly abandon my Husband, but to retire from his passions, till by some Friends, a better understanding is wrought between us, and so return to him again; if my deliverer should require more of me than my honour would permit me to allow of, I should let him know his mistake; and this I have some reasons to fear from his carriage in his late visit, under the habit of a Physician. Here Zora did reiterate her Protestations, assuring the Marchioness that she needed but to command, and she should find how readily she would obey, even with the hazard of her Life. I am satisfied, continued the Marchioness, and to confirm it to you, prepare yourself to follow the Doctor, so soon as he shall return, for I will send you after him with a Letter, in which I will fully declare my mind to him, and make my own conditions, before I put myself into his hands, and you shall bring me back a full and positive answer. Zora told the Marchioness, that she would presently ask the Marquis leave to go forth, to see a Kinswoman of hers, that lived in Town, and that under that pretence she would wait on the Doctor. This being concluded on, the Marchioness bid her go call in her fellow Servant to stay by her, while she should go get her Pen, Ink, and Paper, and convey it into her Closet, where she would go and write the Letter to the Pilgrim, under pretence of going to her devotions; Zora being gone, and the other Woman come in her place, the Marchioness laid herself upon her Bed again not so much to sleep, as to reflect on Camille's boldness.  
She feared that that Person who had had the confidence to kiss her, so soon as he came near her, while her Husband and her Guardians were in the Chamber, would attempt more if he should once have her in his possession, and without company, and her apprehensions did so increase, the more she did think on it, that without that assistance which she did expect from the Convert Zora, she had not so much as writ to the Pilgrim further, than just to let him know that her mind was altered, and therefore had no further occasion of his assistance, but she thought that through Zora's aid she might so order things, as to continue Mistress of herself, though got from her Husband by the Pilgrim's help, especially making her conditions with him beforehand; therefore so soon as Zora was returned, and had made her signs, that the writing tools were in a readiness; the Marchioness pretending to go to her Prayers, did lock herself up in her Closet, where she wrote to the Pilgrim.  
She had but just ended her Letter, when the Woman knocked at her Closet Door, and told her that the Doctor had sent something for her to take. She presently came out, saying that she was much better than she had been in the morning, and that she hoped the worst was passed for that present; but that however she would take something for two or three days to prevent a return; and therefore desired that the Doctor should come again at Night to give her a visit.  
Father Andrew who was now the Doctor's man, gave the Marchioness a Bottle of Julep, and a Paper in which was written how she was to take it, and told the Marchioness, that his Master had commanded him to assure her he would give her a visit at night, to learn how her remedy did agree with her. The Marchioness having something to say to the Doctor's Man, she sent the Woman out of the Chamber of an errand, bidding her send in her fellow Servant in the mean time; the Woman was no sooner gone out, and the other come in, but the Marchioness told the good Father that Zora was become one of them, that she would send her to the Pilgrim with a Letter before he should come to her at night, to inform him of some matters, that therefore he should presently tell her where their Lodgings were. The Father had but just informed her, when the Marquis was heard coming to the Chamber-Door, which made them to change their discourse: the Marquis entered, and seeing the Doctor's Man, and the Julep Bottle standing upon the Table: What, said he, is this what the Doctor has ordered for my Wife to take? and what directions has she? Father Andrew who was more fearful of being known by his voice, than by being seen, because that so soon as they had heard the Marquis coming they had drawn the Window Curtains, and gone to the darkest part of the room, he was wiping his face, in lieu of answering, which made the Marchioness, who guest at the cause of his silence, to answer that he had given her directions; Let's see them said the Marquis; It was only by word of mouth, replied the Marchioness. I am of opinion, said the Marquis, that my Wife should be blooded, and that it should have been the first thing should have been done; I am sure she wants it, her blood is hot enough, too hot I have reason to fear. The Marchioness not taking the least notice of what the Marquis had said, made answer that she would have the man return presently to his Master, and desire him to come again so soon as he could, and then that they should consult about it. With this the Doctor's man very glad of this message scraped a Leg, and did not stay to be bid once again; presently the Woman that the Marchioness had sent out came in, and told the Marquis, that there was somebody without, that would speak with him: This made him go see who it was; mean time, the Marchioness, under pretence to go make an end of her Devotions, returned into her Closet, where having opened the Papers of Directions, she found writ as follows.  
Madam, I have had the advice of some able Physicians, and through their Prescripts, I have got this cooling pleasant Julep: Which if you please you may make use of, or else dispose of it other ways. I fear very much, that we lose that time which, peradventure, we may never recover again; therefore send me word, what you have resolved upon and what it is that I must do for your Service. If you have not now the opportunity of sending me your mind, get it ready writ against I come at night to visit you, I choose the darkness for fear of some discoveries.  
In this Paper there was another, which the Marchioness did hastily unfold, for fear of being interrupted, and in it she found written as follows.  

TEll me not, beauteous Cloris, tell not me,  
Of the strict Guards on the Hesperian Tree,  
The brave adventuring at the tempting Fruit,  
Is when the Dragon is most watchful to't;  
And dangers, Cloris, in what I adore,  
Whets my Ambition, and I dare the more;  
By what sweet Stealths did I hastily sip  
Celestial Nectar from your Hand and Lip,  
While he that might even surfeit with those Blisses,  
Ne'er knew the quintessence of such soft kisses,  
Kisses, which made my heart so fiercely glow,  
That 'twill not cool again, till quenched in Snow,  
That bloodwarm Snow, which on your Bosom lies  
Unthawed, though fallen so near those Suns your Eyes,  
Then o'er your beauties I would careless stray,  
In those Meanders even lose my way:  
For if it were my hap so lost to be,  
Where is that Mortal would not envy me?   
These Verses did sensibly touch the Marchioness: Camille's confident action had already raised a passion in her to his disadvantage. But this his glorying in it, and the publishing of his future intentions, did make her to repent the confidence which she had reposed in an absolute Stranger, and to begin to hate that person, for whom she had so lately had an esteem; she tore in pieces the Letter which she had written to Camille, thinking though it was reserved enough, that it had not that severity in it, as she ought to make use of, to defeat such presumptuous designs. Yet when she considered again, that without his assistance she must continue to live miserable; and peradventure all her life time without any hopes of relief, if she let slip this opportunity: she knew not what to resolve; on the one hand, she adventured herself into the power of a wild young man, who might make use of all the advantages that his fortune and opportunity would give him, having no assistance against the unruliness of his passions, but what a poor silly Woman, as Zora was, could afford her; neither did know but that she might easily be corrupted by Money, that had been once before won by the same Allurements to become her Tormenter. On the other hand, she had no other hopes of escape, nor no other prospect of getting for some time out of the way of her incensed Husband's rage. She could not promise to herself any other help, but what she might expect from his assistance, which if not so generous, and so disinteressed as she took it to be at first, was without choice, and to be accepted of, or lose all hopes of future release: In these perplexities, having for some time remained bandying to and fro in herself a thousand designs, she at last resolves to break all his measures, and to disappoint him beforehand of the expectation of all other rewards, which he might promise himself, beyond what a modest grateful acknowledgement would afford him, with the concurrency of her Purse. In this resolution she put Pen to Paper, and writ her mind to him as follows.  
Your late rashness, in taking those advantages, which at that time I could not oppose, did something startle that confidence which I had reposed on your assistance, which till then I had taken to be disinteressed and generous; but your latter boasting in a vain ostentation, and presumptuous Declaration, of what you would do, when I were once within your Power, has turned that good Opinion which I had of you, into an aversion of all manner of aid, that can come from so dangerous a Person as you seem to be: You strangely have mistaken my intentions, which were but to withdraw myself for some time from the dangerous effects of a jealous Husbands ill grounded suspicions, till his present furious passions were over, and that some accommodations had been made to my future advantage. In this yours, or any other worthy persons secure, had been most acceptable to me, had it been grounded upon honourable Principles. I cannot attribute the timely discovery, which you have made of the contrary, but unto the kind Heavens, who have been so careful in the preservation of my honour, as to force you to this declaration of your ill intentions, which makes me choose rather to venture my Life under the rage of an incensed Man, than my honour under the power of a Person that threatens it beforehand, and at this distance. Yet Life is sweet, and since that I ought to endeavour its preservation, after those threaten which have lately been given out against it. If you will consent to these following Articles; on those conditions, I shall accept of your assistance.  
You shall engage in this business some Person of Quality of my Sex, in whose hands you shall resign me and my Servant, so soon as I am in your Power; but if your small acquaintance here will not afford it you, you shall convey me into a Monastery of Women, in this City, where you shall leave me in the Custody of the Lady Abbess.  
You shall never make any mention of Love, without particular leave, or any other reward for your Services, than may be expected from my Purse; but leave me the sole Judge and Recompencer of your merits in my Esteem, Friendship, and Affections, and to dispose of my favours as I shall think fit. Neither shall you importune me with unseasonable and frequent visits, but by permission likewise.  
That at any time that I shall desire it, you shall readily and freely return me back to my Husband, where you shall leave me.  
That you shall take a Solemn Oath to perform punctually all these things, without any equivocation, or Mental reservation: Except hereafter, at any time, I dispense you from any particular Article thereof, by my express Order.  
On these conditions, I shall accept of your offers, and reassume that good Opinion which I once had of you.  
The Bearer of this to you, is one of my Guardians, who is converted and become sensible of the wrongs which I suffer: I would have you to trust her with all our secrets; to consult with her, give her your Oath, and acquaint her with your resolutions, I have cause to believe her true, therefore receive her into our Designs.  
The Marchioness having written this Letter, gave it secretly to Zora, who was not long before she went with it unto Camille's Lodgings; where you may imagine that she was joyfully received. Zora gave Camille the Letter, with an account of her Conversion, and full resolution to assist them with her life, in the freeing of the Marchioness from that slavery, under which she lived. Camille having, according to his accustomed generosity, filled both Zora's hands with Gold, he told her that it was but an earnest of what he intended for her, so soon as the Marchioness were set at liberty; he read the Letter, which he had no sooner done, but that he kissed it, and said, I do declare here to you both, in the presence of Heaven, that I will exactly perform, and obey every particular Article, and the whole that is enjoined to me in this Paper, by the most beautiful Marchioness, so help me Goodness. Of this Declaration and Promise, I do entreat you to inform the Marchioness. After this they were contriving of some ways to get the Marchioness off; Camille was for getting of her out at the Window in the Night time; but that was not found to be convenient by Zora, who best knew how the Marquis did use to behave himself at Nights, how diligently he did watch so soon as it was but a little darkish; so that though she should have the opportunity to assist them at some time in her fellow Guardians absence; yet it would be very difficult to escape the Marquis his diligence. Father Andrew, in his turn, did propose some other expedients, against which Camille objected. At last Zora said, that if they would but give her that Night's time to consider of it, she made no question that by morning she would, with her Lady's assistance, find out some way better than they had yet proposed. You do not know, continued she, how ready our Sex is in contriving of intrigues? It is in a manner natural unto us, we need but to lay aside other concerns for a while, and in that time, though never so short, our own inclinations will prompt us to amorous designs; I have one in my Head already, which I could tell you presently, but I will take a little longer time to digest it into better order than it is yet; and besides, I am unwilling to propose any thing of that nature to you, without the Marchioness' consent. I will therefore return to her, that I may get some convenient time to acquaint her with it, and to have her advice and addition of contrivance, against you come to give her a visit in the Evening. Camille approving of her discretion, dismissed her, desiring her to be faithful and active, and that he would be careful t● gratify her, in an ample manner.  
It was not long before that Zora got home, where she met with the Marquis, who told her that he was glad to see her so diligent, and that seeing she had been so, she should have his consent another time to go out; that he was sorry for what his passion had made him do; but continue faithful to your trust, added he, and I shall make you amends for it: at these words the cunning Gipsy fell into Tears, and said, that she had deserved a better usage from him, in her watchful care over her charge, and that there were many Women, that would revenge themselves of such a wrong; but that she was such a low Spirited Fool, that had not so much courage as a Worm, who would turn again when 'twas trod on, though to little purpose; that she had no other way of satisfying herself, but with taking a Dose of that drowsy Medicine Patience; then carrying her Handkerchief to her Eyes, she seemed to be very much troubled; at which the Marquis, pulling out of his Pocket a piece of Gold, he gave it her saying, Here, Zora, take this, and assure thyself, that for the future I shall be more kind to thee, if thou wilt continue saithful to me; for I assure thee, that I conside more in thee, than in thy fellow Guardian, of whom of late, I have no good opinion. Well, Sir, answered Zora, since that you are so kind, and have a better opinion of me than of my Companion, it shall not be without cause; therefore prepare yourself to hear of some discoveries from me e'er long; but than you must give me the opportunity, to be some time in private with my Lady this Evening, that I may sift her: Yes, that thou shalt, as long as thou wilt, replied the Marquis, I will take order myself, to have thy fellow Servant employed another way at that time. Well, Sir, replied Zora, and to begin to be sincere with you, I must tell you that my Lady has a Black-lead Pencil, which I have not known of before this morning. How! replied the Marquis, a Black-lead Pencil? And in the name of the Devil, how came she by it? That I know not, replied Zora, except my fellow Servant has helped her to it. I do observe that of late they are very great together; though not before me, for I never come into the Chamber, but I find them talking, and so soon as they see me, they are as mute as Statues. Oh Heavens! cried out the Marquis, for certain thou hast overheard some of their discourses; prithee good Zora tell me what thou hast heard: Truly nothing very significant, answered she, only here and there a word, for they speak very low; and the Marchioness is as afraid of me, and hates me as much as she loves my Fellow: But good now tell me some of those words that thou hast heard, continued the Marquis: what I can remember now, is that they talked of a Letter lost, or torn, I know not well which, and of Friars, Pilgrims, and— Hold, hold, cried the Marquis, interrupting her, what didst thou name a Pilgrim? Yes, Sir, that word Pilgrim is very frequent in their Mouths: O! the Devil, Hell, and Confusion! a Pilgrim? Why has the Devil nothing else to do, besides possessing of Women, than to multiply Pilgrims, or to slit one in several pieces? It is so most certainly, I see it now, that that Damnable Pilgrim, your treacherous Fellow, and the Devil himself are in league, and hold a correspondency with that wicked Woman my Wife, notwithstanding all my cares, the Woman's preciseness, the Pilgrim's imprisonment, and the Devil's employ about debauching of other Women also. In good time hast thou discovered this to me, for which I shall reward thee most bountifully; one day more of their hellish intrigues, and they had left us behind, for ever overtaking them again: Then after a little pause: It must be so continued he, didst thou not name a Friar also? I think that I have heard them mention a certain Father, replied Zora; Andrew, cried out the Marquis: I know not, said Zora, if the Friar is the Father, or whether they are tow distinct Persons; but if you will have the curiosity to hearken yourself to their discourses, I will so place you, that you shall overhear some words, though they speak never so low; I wish thou couldst do that replied the Marquis, though I believe thee already; yet that would strangely strengthen my belief, and the good opinion that I have of thee; and should I once hear that that Woman should speak one word to my Wife, but tending towards kindness, I would immediately turn her away: That I would not advise you to do, replied Zora, till you were very certain that she is false to you; what greater proof could I have of it, replied the Marquis, than to be an Eye and Earwitness to the business: Well I long to hear their close discourses; that, Sir, you must not expect to do, said Zora, till in the Evening after I have had some discourse with my Lady. Well, said the Marquis, go, go, get thee to her, and sift her through Lawn; I will call away that Gipsy, that thou mayst have the more opportunity to do it, go thou in, and send her out to me, and saying this, he pushed her gently from him towards the Marchioness' Chamber door.  
The subtle Zora was no sooner come into the Lady's Chamber, but sent the other out, telling her that the Marquis had something to say to her; and having shut the Door, she gave the Marchioness an account of all that had passed between the three Confederates, and how freely Camille had promised to obey her commands, to the very lest circumstance; to which she added this short Encomium. I must needs tell you, Madam, that in my opinion he is a Person of quality and Honour, who though under a disguise cannot but show it in all his actions; for he is doubtless, the most accomplished Gentleman i● the whole World, having in him a high measure, all that can be desired for perfecting of the most exact Cavalier imaginable; his courteous carriage, his obliging expressions, comely presence, and his generous liberality, of which here is a fair and ample demonstration, (showing the Gold that Camille had given her) will make me think the time a thousand Years, till I see you free from your Husband's jealous Tyranny, and under the safe Guard of so worthy a Person. From this discourse she fell to speak of the Marquis, and gave the Marchioness an exact account of what had passed between him and herself, and and how bravely she had coxed him. And now, Madam, I am come, continued she, by his order to sift you; but if you please to take a little of my advice, we will give my Fellow a remove, punish your Husbands unreasonable Jealousy, and you shall have a very Comical Revenge, all which shall tend to make a clearer way unto your deliverance. I have engaged you, Madam, continued she, in a business, which if but well managed will do all this and more: Prithee let's hear it, Zora, replied the Marchioness? Why thus, Madam, said Zora, so soon as I am gone out, and my Fellow Servant come in, I would have you to get into your Closet with her, and there engage her into some discourse concerning Pilgrims, Friars, Fathers, Letters, Jealousy, Liberty, and the like. For I have promised your Husband, so to place him that he shall over hear those private discourses, which I have told him you frequently have with her, when I am out of the way; and I have picked out your Closet Window for his stand: by this means he will be so incensed against my Fellow Servant, that no question but he will immediately turn her away, which will give us much more liberty and opportunity than we have, to act and accomplish our designs. This pleased the Marchioness very well, who said, but how shall I bring out those words to any purpose, so that he nor she may not perceive the design? Madam, answered Zora, I will leave you to consider of it, you that have so much writ and industry, will presently find out some expedient for it; be pleased but to give me your black-lead Pen, which I promised to present your Husband with, and I am gone: The Marchioness gave her the Pencil, of which she had no longer need, since that she had been furmished with other writing Tools, and Zora went to give them to the Marquis.  
Zora was no sooner out of the Marchioness' Chamber, but that the other Woman was in, who found the Marchioness lain on her Bed: Zora went to the Marquis, who received her with great demonstration of a longing desire, to learn what she had to say to him, and what new discoveries she had made: Well, said he to her, what news dost thou bring me, and what success hast thou had? The Marchioness is so out of humour, replied Zora, because that I broke the discourse which they had began in my absence, and which was not ended when I came into her Chamber, that do what I could, I have not been able to make her enter into discourse. I have began to speak of divers things, one after another, thinking to engage her into talk, but after two or three words, she lets it fall, so that I have lost my labour for this Evening; but she will not be long silent, now that she has that Person with her, with whom she may freely discourse, and lay open her heart; she will quickly regain the time that she thinks to have lost with me, though she feigned to me that she had a mind to sleep. Without doubt, said the Marquis, she will be very eager to be at it with her Jewel, and now I warrant you that she is full of news to tell her, therefore that I may lose no time, I would have thee to place me where I may hear as much as I can possible of what they say: Sir, replied Zora, they usually retire into the Closet, when they intent any private discourses, therefore no place more fit for you, than the Closet Window in the Garden, it is but standing upon something, and that will raise you to a sufficient height; I will go and fit things ready for you to stand on, and come to you again: That will do very well, replied the Marquis, and I like that place the better too, because that there I shall not be interrupted by any of the Servants, for I will lock myself up in the Garden, where through the obscurity of the Night, none shall see me. That will do very well, answered Zora: With that she went to prepare the Stage, on which the Marquis was to act the Eve-droppers part.  
Zora was scarce got out, but that the Marquis, who was very unwilling to lose one word of his Wife's discourse with her Guardian, went immediately to his Wife's Chamber door, to try if he could hear any thing from thence; but because that the Marchioness was not yet prepared, she remaining still on her Bed silent, the Marquess returned to his Chamber again to expect Zora; she mean time was busy in fitting of things, but more earnest in contriving some way to punish this jealous Man. She was not long before she returned, being ready to fit him on all accounts. She acquainted him with it, telling him that she had been forced to make use of an old Water-Tub that lay useless in a corner of the Garden, over which she had placed some Board's and a Stool over them, that it would be something difficult for him to get up alone, but that once up, he might stand firm enough, that he should give her the Key of the back door into the Garden, and that She would meet him that way. The Marquis had such a longing desire to be at the sport, that he liked every thing that she did but propose, he therefore sent her away with the Key of the back door, while he himself went the fore way into the Garden, where he locked himself in.  
Zora mean time sends a Person whom she trusted to Camille's Lodgings, with a Note to give him notice, that if he would have some pastime, he should immediately repair at the back door of the Marquess' Garden, where she would wait for him, and where the Marquis was going to act a very pleasant Scene, as she had ordered things. For she had fastened a Cord to one of the Board's over the Tub, which having conveyed on the other side of an Hedge, where she was to lie in wait; so soon as he would have heard enough to have made him mad, to conclude the Comedy, she designed to pull that Cord, and of necessity the Marquis must have fallen, that just upon that, Camille should appear and make an end of affrighting him, so that he should not know what had happened, nor how, or by what means; but the Marquess' impatiency, and Camille's absence from home, for he was then come forth in order to visit the Marchioness, did prevent her; for so soon as the Marquis had got into the Garden, he could not forbear endeavouring to get up of himself; he thought that each moment that he passed without listening, was so many lost sentences; and what did he know, but that which would give him the greater light in their mysteries, would be the first spoken, and that the rest would be but indifferent discourse; he goes presently to work, and endeavours Doctor like to mount the Stage of himself, and without the assistance of his merry Andrew; but wanting something to raise him a little from the ground, to facilitate his first steps, which were something high, and finding nothing more convenient than a rolling Stone that was at hand; he draws it where he would have it, he sets one of his Feet upon it, and the other upon the Board that was over the Tub, which had in it some Water; he had but one step more to make, which was upon the Stool, and having nothing to get hold of to assist him, there he was at a stand what he should do, but presently fancying that he did hear them talk; he endeavours to get up by leaning against the Wall, he bushes hard, and so hard at last, that the Board underneath the Stool slipping aside, the Stool fell into the Tub, but he being very nimble escapes it, and lighting on the rolling Stone with violence, it yielded forwards, which threw him back, with his Head forwards into the middle of the Stool which was in the Tub of Water. There lay the poor Marquis with his Head in the stinking muddy Water, up to the Shoulders, and they and his Arms so pinioned in the Stool, that he could not help himself, but of necessity must be smothered in that filthy Bath. He endeavoured to cry out for help, but instead of that, he did make the most hideous noise that could be imagined, for his bubbling in the Water, whence he forced himself to cry out, and the sound of the Tub, though not very deep, did render such a strange sound, that nothing can be compared to it, but the roaring of a Bull, that had a hole in his Wind pipe. The noise, in fine, was so great, that it caused all the Windows of the Neighbourhood to be opened, and the darkness hiding the Object from their Eyes, they all asked one another what was the matter; but atlast the noise growing less and less, as his Strength and Spirits did decay, every body retired, and shut their Windows again.  
The poor Marquis was in this condition just giving up the Ghost, when Zora came to him, who presently, though strangely surprised and affrighted, did with much ado pull the Stool out of the Tub, and the Marquis with it, who having laid on the ground, there he remained dead; she was upon the point of running away by the back Door to give her Lady notice of it, but she fancied that he breathed a little; this made her change her mind, and she was for some time in a Balance, whether she should assist him and save his Life, or let him go, and carry along with him all the Marchioness' troubles, so put an end to all their Plots; but at last good Nature partly prevailing, and the desires that she had of making more sport, and being further employed, besides, the Rewards that she did expect, and not knowing to what consequences this his sudden Death might draw; she stooped to him, and did so chafe, rub and handle him, that as he lay with his back across the Roling Stone, his Head hanging down, he at last vomited up a large quantity of that nasty stinking Water, which he had swallowed most plentifully, which was followed with a great groan and a little after with a Jesus Maria: This did so encourage the industrious Zora, that with the continuance of her most favourable assistance; the poor man having emptied his Stomach of more of his Evening draught, he came to himself so as to sit up; she inquired how he did, and how he had happened by this accident, but he was so weak with drinking, so sore with struggling, and so hoarse with endeavouting to be heard, that he only told her, by being too hasty; and a while after, bidding her to lead him up to her own Chamber in private, he after that remained silent.  
Zora having lifted him upon his Legs, and taken out of his Pocket the Key of the Garden-door, she led him under the Arm without light into her Chamber, where she laid him upon the Bed; he had no sooner been let go upon it, but that he fell agiving up the residue of his raw Caudle, and calling for a little Wine, he fainted away. He was presently supplied with some, which brought him to himself again; he gave her his hand, that she might help him to sit up, after which he gave her a short account of his disafter; which he concluded with a great demonstration of sorrow for having failed of hearing his Wife's Dialogue with her fellow Servant. I do not blame thee in the least, Zora, continued he, for what has happened to me, but acknowledge it my own fault; on the contrary, I confess, that without thy timely Assistance, I must have perished, for which good office I will kindly reward thee; I am in a very sad pickle, help to shift me, that I may go to my Wife; for though I should be glad to lie from her this Night, that she might not have the least distrust of my misfortune, at which she would make herself sport, I durst not trust her alone, especially with that wicked Woman, while thou shouldst be busied about me. Sir, you do very well, replied Zora, to lie with her, and you cannot be too wary, for the Marchioness might do in a quarter of an hours time, that which you could never undo again; when you are in Bed with her, than she is secure, and so long as you have but one of your hands over her, you may sleep in safety: Thou sayest very true, replied the Marquis, therefore fetch me what I want, and as thou passest by, step into her Chamber, and see what they are doing. Zora went out, and presently returned telling him that now his Wife was as pleasant as mirth could make her, they are laughing at the relation which they have had of the hideous noise that was heard in the Garden, and of the several reports that are given of it; some say that it was a surprised Lover by a jealous Husband, or some jealous Coxcomb catched in his own trap; at which the Marchioness adds, that she wished they were all so served. Yea, that I dare say she would, and hearty rejoice at it, replied the Marquis; no matter how 'twere censured: Oh! the Plague of Women! continued he, of handsome Women! Well, if she makes me once desperate, I shall lodge her far and safe enough from her Minion, and from the whole Worldbesides. She is mine now, continued he, far from her fond Relations, and within the reach of my revenge, and— He was going on in that strain, when Zora interrupted him in this manner: I cannot blame your resentments, they are but just and reasonable; for now that she is your Wife, she should have no Eyes but to look on you, no Ears but to hearken after your commands, no Mouth but to applaud them, nor no other parts, but wherewith to execute them; and in my opinion a Wife that does otherways, and so forgets herself, as to have the least thought imaginable for another Man than her Husband, aught to be used accordingly. I would let her live continued she, but it should be such a life, so remote from all Conversation, that she should forget the very shape of all men but that of her Husband. Woman, said the Marquis with a transport, thou hast won my heart; in thus speaking the very Soul of truth, and I shall ever like thee the better for it. No, I will not meddle with her Life, though of late I have had such thoughts; but I will before I am two days older remove her in a place where she shall be sequestered from the whole World, but myself, and one or two Women at the most, to give her her necessaries. I hope, Sir, replied Zora, that you will continue me in your Service, and that I shall be one of those two that shall attend her: why dost thou doubt it, replied the Marquis, yes, that thou shalt, and were it not that it would be too toilsome to thee, thou shouldst be sole Governess of her; but however, for those good Services that thou hast rendered me, and those which I yet expect from thee, though I shall give thee an aid, thou shalt have a full and absolute power over all but me; I will declare it to be my will, and then who shall dare to control it. Zora returned him humble thanks, with a profound reverence, and saying, Sir, give me leave to go see what they are doing: She went out of the Chamber, it was not long before she returned, telling the Marquis, that now there was an Opportunity for him to hear them in Discourse, for she had heard them at it, as she went into the Chamber, that on the sudden they had been very silent, and that no doubt but they would be at it again by this time: the cunning Zora had been in the Chamber, of truth, and had given the Marchioness that sign, of which they had before agreed together, at which the Marchioness was to begin her Story: The greedy Marquis did need no more to spur him on, but as if there had been no such matter as that of the Tub in the case: my Hat, my Sword, and Cloak, said he, and I am gone, I would not lose one word of theirs, not for all the ease imaginable: A word, replied Zora, why you must not expect to hear one in ten, but however that will suffice to give you an account of the matter of their discourse, at which the Marquis returning no answer, went muffled up, to his Wife's Chamber door, where after a while he heard as follows.  
The Marchioness lying on the Bed had called her Woman to her, and had told her in a manner, as if newly awakened by Zora's coming into the Chamber, and as being affrighted, that she was very much out of order, and disturbed with a strange Dream which she had had, or rather a Vision, said she, for I have so perfect an Idea still remaining of what I have lately seen in my Dream, that I cannot well recollect myself, to know whether I was sleeping or waking. I fancy that I see yet all the Persons before me; here stood one, there another, at this side of my Bed was another, another was in this Chair. The one had such  on, the other was dressed like a Religious man, one like a Cavalier, and one in a disguise like a Hermit, Pilgrim, or some such thing, and there was a Woman also; and amongst all these Persons there was a Monster lose in my Chamber, whose Head was very large, with a full Forehead, no Horns on it naturally, but it would order his Wings, that they would lie over its forehead much like Horns, and was pleased to wear them so; his Eyes were very piercing, even to see things that none else could perceive, and the further remote that Objects were, the bigger they appeared to it: Its Ears were very large and open, so that it could hear the least Whisper; Its Mouth was but small, out of which issued forth a stinking breath, that did offend all that it came near, and it darted out of it a Tongue that would wound all those that it touched. The Marquis was come to the Door, when the Marchioness was about this part of her Story, and she spoke so low, that he could hear but here and there a word, of which he could make nothing; she was going on in this manner, This Monster would often make toward me, as if to devour me, and would show his Teeth, but did not by't; but his Tongue was more to be feared, than his Teeth, and always as he made at me, he would be hindered by some of those that stood by me; and when he would make towards any body else, I would give them notice of it: Then I thought that he would make at me again, with more fury than before, so that he was sometimes ready to swallow me up; at which the Religious man would pray and use such Exorcisms as the Church has ordained against evil Spirits, while that the disguised Person would strike at him, with a Sword which he had concealed under his , not to hurt him, but to affright him with the splendour of it; but then the Woman would stay his Arm, and when at any time this disguised Person would offer to step between me and the Monster, when it came to offend me, she would interpose again, betwixt him and me, so that I could not see him. At last I thought that the Monster had something thrown upon its Head that was nasty and filthy, which did so torment it, together with the Persons present, that it cast forth a great quantity of Foam and Smoke, which did very much offend all that were present, but particularly me, and the disguised Person, because that we stood near one another, and most in his way, and that he aimed most at us two: Then I thought that on the sudden it turned towards the Cavalier, who to shun him, fell upon the disguised Person, so that he did wedge him in a Chair so fast, that he could not move out of it, till after some time, that the Woman took him by the Hand, and helped him out; but I thought that while the disguised Person was so fast, that the Monster came to me, and took me on his horned Wings to carry me away, when I was awakened by Zoras coming in: This was my Dream, continued the Marchioness, was it not a frightful one? At this the Woman remained silent, only smiling to herself, which made the Marchioness to say, What do you laugh at it? No, Madam, answered the Woman, but I cannot be so much frighted at it, as you are; and when your disturbance is over, no question but you will smile at it also, especially if you would take but a little pains to apply this Dream to some of your own concerns. What can it concern me, replied the Marchioness? You will quickly apprehend it, Madam, said the Woman, if you please but to reflect a little upon it. I am too much troubled at the remembrance of it, replied the Marchioness, and cannot find in me that calmness of Spirits, which is required in the explication of such Dreams. In my Opinion, Madam, than said the Woman, it is so easy, that you cannot but fall of yourself upon the sense of your Dream, and as silly as I am, I would undertake to give you the meaning of it, from what I have sometimes heard your Husband say to you, when he has been in a passion, but that I know my distance. The Marchioness having brought her to this that she would have her, she called to her louder than before, saying, I give thee free liberty to say what thou wilt; and I do assure thee beforehand that I shall not take any thing ill, that thou shalt say, but on the contrary, be very well pleased at it; and I have a most longing desire to hear thee, therefore be free, goon, speak boldly and loud, that I may hear thee perfectly. In obedience to your commands, Madam, than said the Woman, I must tell you, that I have heard often a learned man say, that frequently the cause of such Dreams as yours is, is when the mind being filled with certain Ideas of such things as are of nearest concerns to us, our imagination works upon those things which disturb us even in our sleep: This is the reason, Madam, I think that your fancy has represented to you, in a Dream, though under some disguise, those things which most possess your thoughts when awake. This is very well begun, said the Marchioness, and I prithee go on, and speak louder yet; I have frequently seen the Marquis, Madam, continued the Woman, in a passion against yourself, against a certain Pilgrim, whom he says is some disguised Person, and against the Governor of Barcellonna and his Lady, for taking that Pilgrim's part, and why may not out of these things be collected matter sufficient for your Dream, Madam? I like what thou sayest so well, replied the Marchioness, that I would have thee to particularise it. Well, Madam, replied the Woman, who was proud of her Office, and of being applauded since that it is your Pleasure I should, thus I think it may be made out.  
That Person that seems to be a Religious man is Father Andrew. How! let me hear that again, said the Marchioness, and speak a little louder, who is it sayest thou, Father Andrew answered the Woman, raising her voice; very well, said the Marchioness, proceed. That person, continued the Woman, that appeared to you like a Cavalier, is the Governor of Barcellonna: Who through the Monster's instigation did cast the disguised Person, who represents the Pilgrim into the Chair: Who is that? said the Marchioness: The Pilgrim, Madam, who was put in Prison: This is very well, said the Marchioness, prithee go on; and who was the Woman? Donna Barbara, Donna Barbara, Madam, continued the Woman: All this is very just all this while: But then, who is represented by the Monster, said the Marchioness. That, Madam, replied the Woman, must be some body, whose passions, are monstrous, and— here the Marchioness finding her to Stagger a little, to encourage her, said, What thou hast done for me, in the interpretting of my Dream, has given much ease to my troubled Spirits, for which I will be bountiful to thee, and if thou canst but give me as true an account of the Monster as thou hast done of the rest, it will give me full satisfaction: I hope, Madam, replied the Woman, after she had thanked the Marchioness, that you will dispense me from speaking more plainly: and there she stopped again; at which the Marchioness called to her to come nearer, and gave her some Gold, which had such an influence over her Spirits and Tongue, that she had no sooner felt the weight of it in the palm of her hand, but that she said, Well, Madam, since you will have it so, and that you promise not be angry with me; I will tell you, that your Husband, Madam, was represented by the Monster; How's that? said the Marchioness, seeming very well pleased at it, my Husband? Yes, Madam, your Husband's the Monster, said the Woman: That's very right in truth, said the Marchioness, his furious passions, bitter expressious, severe threaten, curses, rail, jealousies, pryings into all my actions, and listening, and lurking up and down like a Spy, does deserve no better, than to be termed Monstrous, and Beastly, and that he should be served as he was at Barcellonna. I must confess, Madam, replied the Woman, who was willing to say something to the Marchioness for her Gold, that he is somewhat too distrustful and jealous, and that on the condition that it would change his humour, I could wish that he was served so again, or as that Person was, that we heard to roar so strangely, a while since, which People do judge to be some Eve-dropper catched in a Trap.  
At these words the Marquis not being able to contain himself any longer, rushed into the Chamber. I thank you, Madam, said he to his Wife, for your kind wishes, and you, housewife; said he to the Woman, you shall immediately go where you may talk of Governors, Father Andrews, Pilgrims, yes, and of Monsters too, continued he taking her by the Arm, and flinging her out of the Chamber, thou shalt not lie under my roof this night, and having called to Zora to stay with his Wife, he presently went out of the Chamber after the Woman.  
Zora, being entered, did shut the Door, and came with a cheerful countenance up to the Marchioness, who received her as joyfully: I think said she, that we have given him enough on't, to put him out of the humour of harkening this good while. I believe that you have touched him to the quick, Madam, replied Zora, he is in such a passion; but I would not trust him however; for it is so natural to him, or at least he has got such an habit of harkening, that he can no more leave it, than any of his other vices. But now let me know the reason of this change of Station, said the Marchioness: That, Madam, replied Zora, is as Comical a Story, as you have heard, with that she told the Marchioness the Tale of the Tub, which did exceedingly please her; who in her turn acquainted Zora of her feigned Dream, and that Camille had visited her that Evening, in her absence, but that her fellow Servant had watched him so narrowly, that he had not had the opportunity of speaking one word in private; therefore, continued she, you must make some excuse or other to morrow to go out, that you may meet with him, and positively conclude amongst you, of some immediate course of freeing me; for now this man is so nettled, that he will not stay any longer, but will have me away, and Heaven knows where, and how he will dispose of me. Madam, replied Zora, your fears are not groundless; for he has declared so much to me; and I fear that should he remove you from hence, we should lose all hopes of releasing you; but we shall find some way to save him that labour, so soon as I meet with the Pilgrim, and Father Andrew, which shall be to morrow in the Forenoon: Your Husband, Madam, has been sorely bruised, continued she, and though his Curiosity, and his Passion will not let him feel it at present, doubtless but to morrow morning he will be sore and out of Order, as to be willing to keep his Bed some time longer than ordinary; I will take that opportunity to go to them, and if he should want me before I return, it will be your care to excuse me, under pretence of having employed me about some business: That care I will take upon me, replied the Marchioness, be you but diligent as to the rest; for I very much fear the consequences of his removing me from hence: You will do well, Madam, said Zora, to go to Bed, to avoid your Husbands railing, which he will forbear to Night, if he thinks you asleep, when he comes to Bed, and that he may lie the longer in the morning, to exercise your patience with his railing. The hopes that I have, Zora, replied the Marchioness, of being e'er long freed from all his unsufferable extravagances, will make me to endure it, with an exemplary patience. With this the Marchioness went to Bed, where she was but just laid, when the Marquis came in full stored with Reproaches and Injuries; but Zora whispering to him, that she was now asleep, and that he had better stay till morning, and then read her a Lecture: after he had grumbled some few words between his Teeth, he told Zora that he was not very well, and so he presently went to Bed.  
In the morning he made divers attempts, of discharging his Choler with a whole volley of rude expressions upon his Lady, but she as often did shun the brunt by feigning herself asleep; yet at last, he was grown so full of his Venom, that he must vent it, or burst; he therefore began to thunder such a peal in her Ears, that she was forced to make some replies in her own defence: amongst the rest, What is it you would have, said the Marchioness, what cause or reason have you to use me thus, continually? What is happened to you of late? And what have I done, to cause you to treat me as you do? I wonder with what Confidence you can ask these questions, replied the Marquis, it is nothing with you then, it seems, to be reviling and abusing of your Husband during an hour or two, with his Servant? And to wish him any thing that tends to his dishonour? That Person replied the Marchioness, (who was resolved to give it him home) that is so little careful of his honour, as to prostitute it to the appetite of every unruly passion, need not fear that a few words from an injured Woman should pejudice it: Neither shall they, replied the Marquis, for that honour, as prostitute as you speak, it is, and shall be above your reach, and I hope to keep it so; but in the mean time, it ill becomes you to control your Husband's actions, to bespatter them with your scurrilous Tongue, and to wish that some ill Fortune might attend them, while that they are in order to preserve that honour, which you so much endeavour to destroy. That which you call the destroying of your Honour, replied the Marchioness, is rather a desire of its preservation, if it were rightly understood, it is that Interest that I should have in it, were it not rendered unworthy of me by those base, low, and obscene ways, with which you pretend to preserve it; that makes me desire it should not be so vilified, but that it should shine in its full lustre, without the last Eclipse of a low, or cloudy Action to hid its brightness. Whatsoever I do, replied the Marquis, to preserve my Honour from that darkness, which you would cast over it, being in all respects, less dangerous; I think it reasonable to prefer some small momentary Eclipses, to that horror of Eternal Darkness, which you would cast upon it. I could wish, replied the Marchioness, that you would let me know, what you mean by that Eternal Darkness, that I would cast upon your honour? Reflect but on your own actions, replied the Marquis, and you will not be long without the knowledge of it. If to desire the same liberty as other Persons enjoy, replied the Marchioness; nay, if to endeavour to attain to it, is a crime of such a nature, as to blemish your honour so irreparably, as you mention, I freely declare unto you, that I shall ever be guilty of the same error. And I do declare to you, answered the Marquis, that I will break your measures within these three days, if it is possible, by conveying you to such a place, where you shall not be affrighted at the sight of new Faces; in a word, Madam, I will set my honour in safety, by securing of you, who does endeavour with the outmost of your power to destroy it: And I will commit myself, replied the Marchioness, unto the protection of Heaven, and so do your worst; and after this, she turned her from the Marquis, who would fain have gone on in this wrangling discourse, but finding that he could not get one word more from her, do what he could; after some little time having called for Zora, and she not coming, he did rise of himself, but did not stir out of the Chamber, being obliged to supply the absent Guardians places.  
It was then about ten of the Clock, the evil consequences of his late disaster having obliged him tolye longer in Bed than usually, he was looking out of the Window, when he was diverted by a little Dog of the Marchioness', who was playing with some Papers he had met with under her Pillow; the Marquis did presently deprive the poor Dog from that delight which he took, in tumbling them about; and having looked upon them: Yes, Madam, said he to his Wife, these are some of those means which you use, in order to preserve my honour; then looking on them, both in Verse and Prose, continued he, all this you call but the endeavouring to attain unto the same liberty which other Persons enjoy, and these are some of those small errors, that you will ever be guilty of. The Marchioness fretted at the Heart, did not answer one word: Shall I read them to you, they will doubtless please you much better, than whatsoever I can say to you; with that he began to read, but presently Zora coming in, Oh! Zora, continued he, my Wives little Dog more kind than herself, or Woman, has made me partaker of some curious pieces, which I would not for any thing, but that I had seen, for I am a great admirer of such excellent things; you shall hear them: then he began again to read those Papers, which were those that Camille had presented to the Marchioness, are not these very fine things, continued he, after he had read some of them; here is mention made of Kisses, on Hands and Lips too, full of Nectar; nay, the very quintessence was extracted from them: no doubt, Madam, continued he, addressing himself to his Wife, that you did your part also, and that you and your Mimon, did spread inside Lips, and trafficked liquorish Tongues, in order to those extractions, here mentioned; to all this the Marchioness did not answer one word, which made Zora, that durst not be too forward neither, in excusing her Lady, say, but where did this Dog get them? where had he them? where has he been? Where has he been? said the Marquis, where he had them; in your Mistress' Bosom, that's the Caskanet in which she preserves such pretions' Jewels; has not the Dog been out of the Chamber this morning? said Zora, No, no, answered the Marquis, he needed not to go so far for them, they were nearer at hand, I can assure you: Then he continued reading the rest of the Papers, after which he fell into this raging fit. And is it come to that? Is it impossible for me to make use of any thing whatsoever, but that it must turn to this Damnable Pilgrim's advantage? And must you be sick, continued he, speaking to his Wife, only to give him the opportunity of visiting you, under the notion of a Doctor? and to apply such Lip-Slave for your Cure? is it impossible then, to find out such a place as is able to contain him, with all the assistance that Chains, Bolts, Shackles, Bars, and Stone Walls can afford? But that notwithstanding all my Cares, my watchful Cares, I must learn that he quenches his lascivious heats in your Bosom? Well, what cannot be done one way, shall be done the other. Thou shame of thy Sex, continued he, take leave of the whole world, for I protest by all that is sacred, to sequester thee from it, with all the diligence that I can possibly use; But first I will have my full revenge on this incarnate Devil, I will tear his heart out of his Body before you; yes, I will present you with it, you shall enjoy it. Then walking very fast about the Chamber, and sometimes stopping on the sudden, sometime running hastily out of the Chamber, then presently in again; in fine, showing a thousand irresolutions, with which his mind was agitated at once: at last he stood stock still in the middle of the Room, holding the Papers with one Hand, and biting the Nails of his other; after some time he came out of his serious thoughts again, and thus he spoke, Zora: Do you not move from hence till my return; I will first go to the Prison, and know how it comes to pass that this Prisoner is released; I shall not be long, stir not upon your Life, then going towards the Chamber Door, he suddenly turns back again, saying: No, I will send for the Jailor here; I will not stir from hence, till I have my revenge fully accomplished. Zora, continued he, call some Servants up quickly, dispatch: Zora went out, and presently returned, with Servants after her: The Marquis calls one in, and sends him to the Jailor to come immediately to him, and to bring along with him the Prisoner; that Servant being gone about it, he calls another, and sends him to fetch the Doctor to his Wife, who was very ill on the sudden, telling him that he should bring him with him immediately, for his Wife was very ill, and could not live long; but the Fellow telling him that he knew not where the Doctor lived: the Marquis in a passion, bid him call one that knew; the Fellow goes forth, and returns presently, saying, that there was but one that knew where he lived, and that he had sent him to the Prison. All these little obstacles did still enrage the Marquis the more; but being resolved to clear all doubts, and take his full revenge, he tells Zora, that she must go and fetch the Doctor, not considering whether she knew where he lived, telling her that he would watch there himself till her return: Zora being very glad of the employ, that she might prevent all mischiefs, by her giving Camille notice of the discovery; was going forth, when the Marquis cried, yet hold, peradventure that he is but the Pilgrim's Agent, made use of to convey the Papers and secret Messages; and it is on the immediate cause of all my troubles, that my revenge must fall with that severity; then after a little pause: Yet go, continued he, for these Papers speak plain enough, that the two Characters belong but to one Person; but what then, were they gone, and sacrificed to my resentments, are there not more Men? And is not my Honour still in the same danger, so long as that Woman is Breathing? She must— she shall— then after another pause, breaking off his discourse by snatches, as if what he would say, were too cruel to be spoken aloud: Zora, said he, stay, no, go, and get this Robber of my Honour to come and receive his due reward; I shall look him more carefully in the Face, than I did in the dark, when I had no suspicion; go continued he; and send me somebody here mean time: Zora, very glad of the employ, did presently go for fear that he should once again change his resolutions, and she sent some more of the Servants to him. The enraged Marquis commanded two of them to stand at the Chamber-Door, and not to move from thence upon pain of immediate Death, till he returned, nor to let his Wife go out, if she should attempt it, and not being contended with that, he took the Key along with him; he presently ran into his Closet, out of which having taken a brace of Pistols, and a long Stiletto, he presently returned again; he than gave order to two Servants to stand at the Street-Door, charging them, that so soon as they should see the Doctor come into the House, they should shut him in, and not let him go out again, till he gave them order; two more Servants he placed at his Wife's Chamber-door, with order to shut it so soon as the Doctor should be come in; and two more he set in his Wife's Closet, charging them to be ready to come into the Chamber with their Swords drawn, so soon as he should give the word; having thus placed his Centuries, he walked up and down the Chamber, after so strange a manner, with such strange actions, and muttering to himself strange things, that it might easily be guest at the fury which did possess his Soul.  
Mean time the poor Marchioness, who had not spoken one word all this time, thinking that it would be to no purpose to make any excuses, lay agitated with divers horrid fears; the least of which had been sufficient to have broken any heart, less fortified with innocency and courage than hers. Sometime she did reflect on what her Husband's passions had forced out of his Mouth, which threatened no less than her Life; at other times she feared, having observed with what readiness, Zora was gone to fetch Camille, lest that she being affrighted with his rage, should bring him along with her; and sometimes too she feared, lest he should come of his own accord, before that Zora should come to him to give him notice of the imminent danger; and in a word, she feared more for him, than for herself; with a thousand such fears her mind was possessed, when on a sudden she heard a great outcry in the House; the Marquis, who heard it likewise, did send one to know what was the matter, who presently returned with those two that had been placed at the Street-door, who were bleeding, they told the Marquis, that the Doctor had entered the Door, but that as they were shutting it after him, he distrusting something, it had made him to retire, but they opposing him, he had snatched a Sword out of their hands, and with it forced his way through them, into the Street again; at this relation the Marquis tore his Hairs, and drawing his Sword, had certainly run it through him that stood nearest him, had he not diligently escaped it, which furious action did make the rest also to stand also at a further distance. I want words to express, all that the height of the greatest rage imaginable, did make the Marquis to say and act, therefore I shall pass it by; to tell you, that while he was in the midst of his fury, Zora, came into the Chamber; she having missed of Camille, had left her Message with Father Andrew, with an account of all that had passed, in as few words as she could, that she might hasten back to prevent Camille's getting into the Marquess' House, who was gone forth in order to go there, after that he had called at Don Alphonso's; but she coming near home, had learned what had happened, by a Servant that was running for a Chirurgeon to dress those that Camille had wounded; all this was very well she thought, but for fear that the Marquis being disappointed of his revenge on the Pilgrim, should in his passion discharge it all on his Wife: So soon as she was entered, she made signs unto the Marquis, as if she had something to say to him in private, he presently sent the Servants out and went into the Closet, where Zora followed him, after she had thrown a piece of Paper unto the Marchioness, in which was written: Fear nothing. She told the Marquis, that though she had failed of the Pilgrim, she had met with a Person as dangerous as he, and that was Father Andrew; that finding a Door shut she had looked through the Key hole, and there she had seen and heard the Friar, who with half a dozen more were contriving to take the Marchioness away by force at a Night, or upon the Road, whenever he should offer to remove her; that she understood that they had made many Friends in that City that were as willing, as able, to serve the Pilgrim in that wicked design; and that therefore he was to lay his passion aside, and think what he had best to do, to prevent their designs. Do, said the Marquis, in as great a fury as ever, I will help them in it, they shall have her, I will bestow her upon her Minion, myself, I'll only keep her Heart to myself, and they shall share her Carcase amongst them; then prefently after a littl pause, fetching a great sigh, from the bottom of his Heart, but why should I design so foolishly, this would be to serve them according to their own desires, the Pilgrim has had her Heart long since, and it is only for her Body that all this is; here he made another pause, which gave time to Zora to Say, Sir, there is no time to lose, spend it not therefore in vain reflections; once more let me persuade you to lay aside all passion, and to think of what is to be done to secure the Marchioness from all their attempts: I have thought on't, replied the Marquis hastily, she shall die, and then there's an end of all, of all my miseries at once, yea, and of me and all: Heavens forbidden, said Zora, Pray, Sir,— What wouldst thou have me to do then? replied the Marquis, interrupting her in a milder tone? I will tell you, Sir, replied Zora, give out to your Servants immediately that you will be gone from this City in the Morning early, that all things should be got ready to that purpose with all the Ostentation that may be, that the noise of it may be spread about the Town, especially about the Confederates Quarters, so that they may know of it, and provide for the taking of the Marchioness on the Road; mean time let a Litter be got in private, wherein the Marchioness should be conveyed in the dead of the Night, by force if she makes resistance; I shall take care to prevent her from making any noise, or getting out, and let the Litter be driven quite another way, than it should have been given out that you intended to go, while that ye follow with your Mule; no doubt but this will deceive the Pilgrim and his Friends, who certainly will be upon the Road that way that you have given out you would go to intercept the Marchioness, mean time she will have been conveyed to some other place of safety. This, Sir, continued she, I have been thinking of, as I came home; the apprehensions of some sudden attempt, having set me upon it; for now that your Enemies are strong and powerful, when they find that you stir not from hence, they will attempt any thing even here, and Heaven knows what they may not do, having the Marchioness always ready to assist them. And now, Sir, I leave to your prudence to judge, whether what I have proposed, is not reasonable, and the products of an Heart that is wholly devoted to your Service. My Dear, and Faithful, Zora, replied the Marquis, I can never thank thee sufficiently for the cares which thou hast in my concerns, and I shall never forget it; I find all that thou hast said to be very good, and to proceed from a faithful Heart, but I will, or rather we will with deliberation, Methodize it so, that our design shall not be capable of failing. I am of opinion therefore, as you have discreetly proposed, that a Litter should this day be got in readiness, but I would have it to be conveyed a little way out of Town towards the place that I intent to go to, which is Toledo, so privately that no notice may be taken of it, and in the Evening I will take thy Mistress and thyself in a Coach, and we will be carried thither, where you two shall get into the Litter, and I will follow upon my Mule, none of the Servants knowing of this but one that I dare confide in, who shall be busied with the rest of his Fellows in getting all things ready for to be going in the morning, to some other place that I shall appoint them to meet me at: by these means we shall get a considerable way in our Journey, before any notice is taken of it, and the Villains will be frustrated of their expectation to morrow, when they set upon my empty Coach, and my Men, and the further to deceive them, my Servants shall tell them that we did not design to stir forth till the Evening, though we had sent them before, for this will make them to desist any further pursuit at that time, in hopes of meeting with us at Night. This is such a way, replied Zora, as would be infallible, of getting your Wife safe from hence, if we could but be provided with a Litter and Mule-drivers to attend it without noise. There's the stress of the whole business, replied the Marquis, neither know I whom to trust as to that; and I believe that I must go about it myself. I would not have you to leave the Marchioness one moment, replied Zora, you have so affrighted all your Servants, that none dares to appear before you, but she that would adventure a thousand Lives to serve you; what do I know but that at this very present there is some correspondency, between your Wife and her Confederates? Should they attempt any thing in your absence, either by the Garden, to get her out of the Window, she being as ready to go, as they to receive her, who should oppose them? where would be any aid? I should quickly be dispatched, and then the booty would be their own; therefore I think it very necessary for you to remain by her, till we all three are going in the Evening: That which thou hast said is very true, said the Marquis; but then how shall we get this Litter and Men conveyed secretly another way out of Town, than we must seem to go? Let that be my care, Sir, said Zora, I have some acquaintance here in Town, that shall do that business for us, I will go instantly to set them about it; but stay, replied the Marquis, till I have been in my Closet to fetch out some writings, and then I will not move from her Chamber till thy return. After this, the Marquis went out of the Chamber to his Closet, which gave time to Zora to tell the Marchioness, that she should fear nothing, that she had appeased her Husband for the present, and that that Night should be the last of her misery; that she would inform their Friends of all the business before she returned, take their advice likewise, and of all make an absolute conclusion, which she would bring her back in writing, that she might know what part she had to act, and not be surprised; this did Zora deliver with such a cheerful countenance, kissing the Marchioness' Hand, that she was very much comforted by it: Zora was after that advising her Lady to arise, and pack up all her Jewels and other things of value by themselves, when the Marquis returned into the Chamber, to whom Zora said, I have been persuading my Lady to rise, and to prepare for her Journey, but she will not believe that she has need to make such haste. No! replied the Marquis; yet she may be certain that she shall not lie one Night longer in this place; therefore let her rise, and pack up her things herself, if she will, for I have other employs for you, and now go about what I have sent you to do: Zora presently went about her business; the Marquis employed himself about making up and examining of Accounts, while the Marchioness went into her Closet, where she employed herself in disposing of her Jewels privately about her, with other things of concerns, and stuffing up of those Boxes and Cases, that they were usually carried in, with other things of little or no value: Thus the Marquis in the Chamber, having continually one Eye on the Closet Window, and the Marchioness in the Closet, did remain till Zora returned, without speaking one word to one another, to the Ladies great satisfaction.  
Zora was not long before she got to Camille's, whom she informed of what she had done, and that the Marchioness had a knowledge of it: She likewise gave him an account of his fair escape, which he had made out of the Marquess' House, while that the Marquis had sent her on purpose to bring him to his inevitable Death. How that he had sworn to tear his Heart out of his Body, and to give it to her: he need not put himself to that trouble replied Camille, I have long since saved him that I bour, in presenting it myself to her, in a condition to do her more Service, and therefore more acceptable. Let us lose no time now, said Father Andrew, and let it not be said, that this Woman has done all herself, but let us act our parts likewise. Then Zora told them, that there was to be got out of hand a Litter, Mules, and Mule-drivers, that were to be conveyed very privately, at some small distance from the City, at a place which she named. That shall be my charge, replied the good Father, and let me alone to deceive that wicked Father Andrew, and that abominable Pilgrim; and be certain, that within three hours at farthest it shall be at the place appointed: Yes, but where will you find trusty men to attend it? replied Zora: Are not here two, ananswered the brisk Friar? how many would you have? And for their fidelity to us, I will engage for the one if you will engage for the other, continued he, addressing himself to Camille; that will do very well, replied Camille, and my task shall be to discharge the House, to provide good Horses, and to crave the assistance of my worthy Friend Alphonso, of his Lady, and of his House and Servants, to receive us and our Prize, when we have it. Another thing is to be thought on also, said Father Andrew, which is, to convey something between the Marquess' Mules Feet and her Shoes, that she may fall downright lame within a little while after that he shall be got upon her, which will cause him to stay behind, while we diligently go on with the Litter. Better and better still, said Camille, I see that we shall bring it to something at last. This will do, said Zora, and I think that we need no further to cousult about it. No, no, replied Father Andrew, and therefore I am gone to get the Litter and all things belonging to it: And if you please, Sir, said Zora to Camille, to write down the result of our consultation, I will instantly return and give it the Marchioness, and tell the Marquis, that within these two hours there will be a Litter in readiness, at the place that he has appointed. That I'll engage for, said Father Andrew, and away went he: Camille having writ the Note of advice, did give it to Zora, who returned home with it, and Camille having discharged the House, went to his Friend Alphonso, who he did very easily engage and his Lady likewise, to serve him in that business, she highly praising his resolution, of putting the Marchioness into her hands, when that she were at his whole disposal; and Camille having told them the time and place that they should meet with them on the Road, where Alphonso assured him he would not fail to be exactly; he returned home, to wait for Father Andrew's return, which was presently after, with a Litter, in which there were two Suits of , to dress himself and Camille in, like Mule drivers. He bid one of the Persons that were come along with him, to follow him up stairs, where he should receive his Money; so soon as he came into the Chamber, he called upon Camille to pay the Money, which he had agreed for, Camille did readily do it, and went into the Litter to the place appointed, where Father Andrew followed; they were no sooner got thither, but they sent back the Mule-drivers, and accoutred themselves in those  which the Father had brought, which made a couple of excellent Varlets of them, in which posture they waited for the Marquess' coming.  
While these things had been transacting abroad, the Marquis had been examining the Pilgrim, which the Jailor had brought to him according to his Orders; at the very first sight of him, he found him not to be that Pilgrim which he meant, and at last having found his mistake, and the cause of it, through his examining of every circumstance, he discharged the fellow giving him a piece of Money for to make him amends for the wrong which he had done him, with which he went his way very well satisfied, that he had got his liberty at last, with a good sum of Money.  
Mean time Zora was returned home, where she had had some opportunity, during the Marquess' examination of the Pilgrim, to give the Marchioness the Note, and a full account of all their proceed, the Marchioness was very well pleased with what Zora did tell her, whereby divers scruples which had risen in her mind, were removed: presently after the Marquis came into the Chamber, and Zora told him, that there would be a Litter at the time and place appointed, with which he seemed very well satisfied: The rest of that day the Marquis did spend in giving his last orders to his Servants, and to get those things together which he intended for his present uses.  
Having dispatched all other businesses, he returned to his Wife's Chamber, where he bid his Wife and Zora to prepare to be going within an hour, it being already towards the Evening. This made Zora to bussel about, and to fit the Marchioness in a travelling posture; at last, the Coach which the Marquis had appointed came to the Door, which made him to call upon his Wife once again; he led her to it, where he placed her, after which, he and Zora went in it; it was dark, and he had so muffled up both his Wife and Zora in Cloaks, that no body could well discern, if they were men or Women; in a short time after they came to the place, where the Litter was waiting for them, and his Mule likewise, which he had sent before, whose Feet had been stuffed, by the two new Mule-drivers, with things more uneasy, than she could well endure. So soon as the Marquis did see the Litter, and having hastily placed his Wife in it, and Zora by her, he made it up himself, and bidding the Mule-drivers go on, he got upon his Mule and followed.  
They had not gone far before the Marquess' Mule began to halt, but he put her on still, till at last she could, or would not go any further; he did what he could to force her to it, but all in vain, for at last she fairly laid herself down, which obliged the Marquis to alight, and call after the Mule-drivers to stay, but they impatient to be at that place where they were expected by Alphonso, and his Lady, they went on the faster, he run after them crying as loud as he could for them to stay, but the uncivil Mule-drivers, did not so much as once look back; on the contrary the louder he called, and the faster he did run, the faster they drove, till they came to a turning, where they met with their Friends; presently was the Marchioness taken out of the Litter by Camille, and led to Alphonso's Coach, where resigning her into his Lady's Hands: Thus, Madam, said he, do I part with you, according to your desires, and my promise, into the Hands of this most worthy Lady; and now, Madam, you are at your own disposal; there was no time for longer Compliments, the Marchioness only said: Now I find that you are truly generous, and that I have not deceived myself: Camille gave her not time to say more, for he presently put off his disguise, and having got on a Horse, he and Alphonso did ride by the Coach side, while it carried the two Ladies; Zora and Father Andrew, another way into the City again, where they all got into Alphonso's House by the back Door.  
Mean time the poor Marquis did continue his hollowing and calling after the Mule-drivers, though he had long since lost the sight of them, and did trudg as he could after them; but the Gallants were gone with their Booty long before he did overtake the empty Litter, which the Mules (being left at their own disposal) had carried to a little by-place, close by the great Road, where they were biting upon a little Grass, which they had met with; so that when he came up wearied and almost spent, he presently looked into it, but finding no body there, nor any where thereabouts, he fairly entered it to rest himself, never minding where the Mules did carry him; and they having eaten that little of Grass that they had met with, they went on, as by chance they had turned themselves which proved to be the ready way back to the City.  
The poor Marquis being thus carried, he knew not whether, nor did he care to know, with a very slow pace: He had both time and conveniency, to reflect on all his misfortunes, and especially on the greatest of all, the loss of his Wife; concluding with himself, that the whole world did consent to his miseries. What to do, which way to go, or what to resolve upon, he knew not; therefore letting the Mules go which way they pleased, he began to consider with himself, what was the reason that he was so unfortunate above all other men: amongst many things which came to his Fancy on this account, the great severity with which he had used his Wife, by giving too much scope unto his passions, did not a little perplex him, which might be the cause that she had harkened after any designs that had been proposed to her, of freeing herself from it, which otherwise peradventure she had refused: No, no, then would he say again, I must not charge myself with a fault that is wholly hers; those most lascivious papers which I did see so lately, by mere accident, do but too well express her inclinations; yet she did not write them, continued he; then after a little pause: but she received them, and gave them harbour in her own Bed; and it is consequently to be believed, that she owned them, approved of them, and gave a silent consent to all the ill that was contained in them: At this reflection he made a great sigh, and remained a while silent, after which, he again broke out in this manner: But when I first had her, and that she did yet enjoy some moments of liberty, I could never tax nor excuse her of any the least correspondency imaginable with any man; neither could I with all the exactest inquisition that I could possibly use, learn that she had ever had any public, or private and particular converse with any Person; so that this Pilgrim who now possesses her, is perhaps known to her but of late, and by mere accident, and she perceiving him to be a man of good mien and parts; why might not she wish that he might know of her hard restraint, and desire that he might relieve her out of it; and where is that man that would refuse her; she in all this may have aimed but at liberty; and notwithstanding what hopes soever he may build upon, as he expressed in his writing: She might have nobler thoughts, and such as might defeat all his ill designs: Yea, but those Kisses, would he say again, in a little passion, those lascivious kisses might have been stolen from her, continued he, as ansering himself, and I think that they were so mentioned, and if stolen from her as well as from me, why should I think that she did approve of it, or consented to the stealth? Thus was he canvasing the case to himself, willing in some measure to take upon himself the cause of his Wives leaving of him, when on the sudden, a noise which he heard, did cause him to look out of the Litter, at which the Mules did stop, this made him to alight, and presently he perceived that he was not far from his late House, where his Servants were still, he therefore finding that that noise which he had heard, was termining into a quarrel, and that there were Swords already drawn, and being not in a humour to mind such things, at that time especially, he made what haste he could towards his Door; but as he came forth of the Litter, he perceived some scattered Papers in it, which he had the curiosity to take up, and having given a blow to one of the Mules, they went on, while he got into his House, where he was received with as much wonder as unexpectedness, by all his Servants. He presently caused what they had displaced in his Chamber, in order to transportation, to be laid in order again, and having forbid any of them to ask him any questions, he went to Bed, where he read those Papers which he had found in the Litter.  
The one of them was that Letter which the Marchioness had torn, not thinking it severe enough to rebuke Camille's insolence, in kissing of her; at which the Marquis seemed as well pleased, as if it had been news of getting his Wife again. The other were indifferent things, yet with something or other still in them, which spoke more a desire of being freed from Slavery, than of Love: these lose Papers were, it was likely, scattered in the hastily getting out of the Litter, at the time of the seizing on the Marchioness; but such as they were, they did so confirm him in those thoughts which he inclined to have of his Wife's honesty, that taking hold thereon, he did lay the whole cause of her miscarriage upon himself; this with his late mischance of the Tub, and his over-heating himself in running after the Litter, together with the trouble of Spirit which he had upon him, for obliging, and in a manner, forcing his Wife to that extremity of leaving him, did presently cast him into a violent Fever, to which a remorse of having divers times had a design of poisoning of her, did not a little contribute.  
Of truth the Marchioness was not so much to blame as some Persons might imagine, if all the circumstances of her late action was weighed with an equal hand, in the scale of reason: She was young, beautiful, and endowed with excellent parts of the mind; she had been forced by her Parents into the arms of a Person for whom she had a natural aversion against his Person, as well as against that morose, crabbed, and jealous Nature, which had always been so predominant in him, that even before Marriage he had made her sensible of some of its ill effects, and had given out such words within her hearing, as did sufficiently express how he would use her, when once she was his Wife; she had ever since that found and felt the sad effects of those Menaces, without the least cause given by her to be so ill treated; it was a very hard Fate, for her thus to be sequestered from all conversation, though never so modest and innocent, to be buried alive in the Arms of a Person that she so perfectly loathed, and that far from endeavouring to gain her affection, did use her so barbariously, that it daily did increase her aversion against him. All that she had done was but to free herself from that intolerable slavery under which she lived most miserably, and whatsoever her deliverer did promise, or propose to himself, as a reward for his Services; she knew what was fit for her to give, not to prove ungrateful, and what to retain, not to be counted vicious: It is true, that she had thrown herself into the Power of an amorous young man, whom peradventure nothing would satisfy, but what she was not to give, but then she had not the opportunity to pick and choose: Camille was the only Person that had proffered his aid, to free her from her misery; if she refused this, she knew not whether the Heavens would be so kind to her again, as to send her any other opportunity; she was going to be made yet more miserable than ever, by that severe restraint that her too cruel Husband was going to put her under, as he had often given out he would, nay, her very Life had often been threatened, though at a distance; in all these conditions she could not hope to find any relief but in Death; she was sequestered from all her Friends and Relations, carried away into a strange Country, where she had no body to make her complaints unto. In the midst of all these afflictions, Camille seemed to her, as sent from Heaven to be her deliverer; he was a Gentleman so all his actions did speak him, he might for aught that she knew be virtuously given as soon as vicious, or at least virtue might have so much ascendant over him, that with a modest resistance against any inordinate desires, she might assist that virtue to get the upper hand in him. That in case he should prove otherways, she would endeavour to get out of his power, by the assistance of some Religious Persons, or by giving private notice of it to her Relations, that in the mean time she would stave him off with fair promises and delays, and finally if all that would not do, she was resolved to sacrifice her Virtue to Death, rather than her body to his lascivious Embraces.  
It were with these and divers other considerations of the like Nature, that were backed with that last resolution of dying rather than yielding, that the Marchioness had cast herself into the Arms of Camille's protection, which she did soon put into Practice; for the next morning, Don Alphonso and his Lady going to see how Camille did, after the first Compliments were over, he did beg of her before her Husband, that she would endeavour to prevail so with the Marchioness as that he might but see her. She immediately went about it, and was not long before she returned with leave for him to come to her, where he might stay so long as she were by, to which he presently consenting, he went with her to the Marchioness' Chamber, he was no sooner at the Door, but that he run, and casting himself at her Feet, he said: Madam, I am come to offer you an heart more busied with an earnest ambition of serving you further yet, than possessed with the thoughts of receiving any recompense for his former Services: Yet Madam, not so wholly insensible of the happiness, which he might receeive from you, if you would but allow him some place in your esteem, as not humbly to sue for it. Sir, replied the Marchioness, making some motion which expressed her desire that he should rise, I cannot be so insensible, of that generous assistance which I have received from you, as not to resent it with all the gratitude that my bosom can be capable of, and it is so lately that I have felt the advantage of it, that I can not so soon forget it. I do acknowledge, Sir, before this Lady here, continued she, that I am infinitely obliged to you for what you have lately done in my concerns, for proof whereof, I do confess that I own you all that my abilities in the present condition I am, and that my honour can permit me to give you, besides this, I being of a Disposition, as will not permit me to remain long in peace with myself, while that virtue lies unrewarded: I gladly received, and entertained your request of seeing me, that I might have the opprrtunity of giving you some small Tokens of my gratitude, till my good Fortune does enable me to further reach the merits of your singular Services to me; be pleased therefore to accept of all that little which I have in my own disposing at present, till Time and Fortune do further enable me to suit my rewards more proportionable to your deserts. Camille was going to answer, when she thus went on, taking hold of the middle of a Toylet that was upon a Table near her: Here, Sir, is all I have, it is small, considering what I own you, I doubt not but that a Person that has acted so generously as you have done, will be contented with the good will, where the Power cannot extend any further, with that she lifted off the Toylet which she held in her hand, and discovered to Camille's Eyes, a parcel of Jewels of great value. Camille had no sooner cast his Eyes upon them, but turning his Face from them, with an air that did express a contemning of such trifles. You have a design to mock me, Madam, said he, with an emotion which expressed his dislike, in pretending to gratify me, while you offer me this parcel of Jewels, and at the same time you reserve to yourself that inestimable Gem, your heart, which might set me in possession of those Mines of Treasures which discover their Lustre over your Face, and— he was going on, when the Marchioness did thus interrupt him: Sir, you have very soon forgot the promises which you made to my Servant here, and doubtless that you were thinking of something else while you made them; yet I am happy in that you have observed so much of them as has invited you to put me into the hands of so worthy a Lady as this is, and in a place where I need not fear any thing beyond words; yet give me leave to tell you that they surprise me much; but however, Sir, I am extremely sorry, that I cannot gratify you out of my own store, and that you covet that which I was forced long ago to part with to another, though I must confess absolutely against my will: but however now it is no more mine, and though this Bosom, pointing at her Breast, is still the Caskanet, wherein it is kept; there is such a strong Guard set upon it by Virtue: as can never be forced but with the loss of my Life, till the right owner of it, though he is never so unworthy, loses his property in it by death. If that were all, Madam, said Camille, his Life were not so considerable, that he should be loath to lose it, or any one fear the taking of it away, which would be but like the removing of a Stone out of that way, that would lead one to the possession of that precious Jewel: This did Camille say, in a tone that expressed much disorder in his mind, of which the Marchioness taking notice: That were the way, said she, to cast so dark a Cloud over it, and the rash undertaker of so foul a deed, as would eternally darken its lustre, and hid for ever from my Eyes that Person, that should so unworthily attempt it, or should they offer the least violence to deprive me of it, I should look upon them, as on the worst of men; and I would certainly sacrifice my Life for its preservation. This did the Marchioness speak with so much resolution and boldness, that Camille was at a stand, not knowing what he should say. Which gave the Marchioness leisure to continue in this manner. But I can distinguish between what is spoken in raillery, and by way of common discourse, from that which might proceed from the Heart, and I have better thoughts of my deliverer, neither can it enter in my imagination, that a Person that has so frankly served me, should harbour in his Breast, such mean and unworthy designs, while he contemns those things which might have taken with any mercenary, and low Spirited Persons. But I am confident, continued she, that you are above those trifles, and that like all other brave Souls, yours expects its reward from that virtue, which set it on those brave actions, which cannot be recompensed, but by that same virtue, which first did move it, to the performance. Here Camille being overcome by the Marchioness' generous expressions, and looking upon those designs with which he had approached her, as gross and foul Earthy exaltations, which if not dispersed from his mind, by those refulgent Rays, which the brightness of the Marchioness' brave example did cast upon him, would hinder him from appearing with the like lustre, and from moving in the same Sphere of Virtue that she did; he therefore, wholly changing his mind, and first designs as scorning to be out done by a Woman, did immediately cast from himself all lascivious desires, and low thoughts, to give a full and entire possession of his Soul to Virtue, which made him answer the Marchioness in this manner.  
That Virtue, Madam, which shines with so much lustre throughout all your actions, were more than sufficient, were I any other ways inclined, to work perfect reformation in me. It appears, so great so glorious, and so aimable in you, that nothing but that can be said to surpass all those other blessings of body and mind, that the Heavens have showered upon you with a prodigal hand, which moves an emulation in all generous Spirits; henceforward, Madam, continued he, I bid adieu to all the little Sallies and Gaieties of inordinate Youth, to wait with patience at your Feet, for what the Heavens will be pleased to set apart for me; only this, Madam, I humbly crave of you, that if ever there be hopes, I may stand the fairest in your affections; he will out live your patience, Sir, replied the Marchioness; then turning her Head aside to hid some blushes, which what she was going to say did spread over her Face: at least I fear so, continued she, with a sigh, after a little pause: Oh! Madam, what a Cordial have you administered to my fainting heart? replied Camille, say but once more, Madam, that you have that esteem for me, as to allow of your Hearts good Wishes in my behalf, and I protest by all that is sacred, never to endeavour my happiness by any sinister means; I shall with an exemplary patience wait for what my Stars and your fair self have decreed for me, and employ all that time that shall run betwixt this moment and then, in admiring your Beauties, in setting forth your praises, and in obeying your Commands, with all the fervour, zeal, and diligence, that a Heart so possessed with the admiration of your Virtues, as mine is, can be capable of. And I must tell you, replied the Marchioness, that so long as you bring that temper along with you, you shall be welcome to my heart, in which you may claim as great a share, as Virtue and Honour can allow you. This Crowns that Victory, Madam, answered Camille, which I have lately obtained over my passions, and that honour which I receive of being the first in your esteem, is so far beyond all that I shall ever merit, that I can desire no more than the permission to seal the protestation which I here make to be eternally yours, (with that the Marchioness gave him her Hand to kiss) upon this white Author of my happiness, continued he, till I have leave to taste of that Nectar, which flows on your Lips. That you once took, said the Marchioness, when I was not in a condition to for bid it, which I have now you forgiven you, and I will not refuse so insignificant a thing however you esteemit, when you sue so modestly for it, but stop there, and let the bounds of your desires be limited within this compass; till it shall please the Heavens to enlarge them: after this Camille kissed her Lip, and was going to return her thanks with an assurance of his moderation, when Father Andrew entered the Chamber as brisk as could be, saying, Madam, give me my News-guift before I tell you the best news that you have heard since your deliverance. That I will good Father, replied the Marchioness, for I own myself already much indebted to you; with that she took up a fair Diamond-Ring which lay upon the Table, and taking out of her Poctet a Purse of Gold, Sir, said she in a low voice to Camille, giving him the Ring, accept of this pledge of my Friendship, and wear it for my sake; then turning to Father Andrew; and you good Father, continued she, receive this small reward of your Services, until I am in a better capacity to acknowledge them: saying this, she gave him the purse of Gold. The good Father having received the golden blessing with an humble bow, he thus begain his Story.  
I am but just now returned from the City, where after divers inquiries, I have learned that the Marquis your Husband, Madam, was returned to his Lodgings before day, that he had been taken so violently ill of a Fever, that all the Physicians of the Town that are about him had given him for dead; notwithstanding the frequent repetitions of bleeding, and all the other means that their Art can use upon him; his Fever increasing so violently that he says himself that he is a dead Man: This made me go to a Religious Father of my acquaintance here, where having fitted myself with a Religious Habit, I have desired him to accompany me to the Marquis, where I prayed him to mix amongst his comforts some gentle touches of his hard usage of you, with s●me admonition to make you amends at his Death. But when we came there, I standing a little aside, lest my presence should distract his thoughts, I found him already disposed as I would have him, he was saying to his Kinsman the Justice that is with him, that he was very sensible of the wrongs which he had done his Wife, that he wished that he could but once again see her before he died, to ask her pardon for it; that for proof that this reconciliation to his Wife was sincere, and in it after some few Legacies and some gifts to the Church to pray for his soul, he would leave his dear Wife sole Heir of his Estate. This news made the Marchioness to go immediately to her Husband, who did no sooner perceive her but he took her by the hand, and did a Thousand times ask her pardon for his ill treating of her, and after he had ratified the Will which he had made, since Father Andrews absence, & which was in his Kinsman's hands, having called for it and given it to her in the presence of all, he presently after gave up the Ghost. The Marchioness after this, leaving directions with her Husband's Kinsman concerning what she would have done, leaving to his management all the concerns in that City; as also the care of her Husbands Transportation and Burial in his own Country according to his desires, amongst his Ancestors; she returned to Alphonso's House, where being fatigated and late in the Night, she went to Bed.  
The next morning after that she was up and ready to receive a visit, Camille came to her to renew his suit, summoning her of her promises, to which she made answer, that she would do him Justice; after which, Don Alphonso, his Lady, Father Andrew, and Zora, being present, she declared before them all, that she received Signior Camille for her Husband, she gave him her hand in assurance of it, and further said, that so soon as she had paid those formalities which were due to the dead, she would confirm it by marriage. Camille full of joy did return her all the thanks imaginable; the whole company did applaud her choice, and wished them both all Joy and Happiness.  
After that all the ceremonies of the Funeral were over, and that the Marchioness had sent her late Husband's Kinsman to take possession in her name, of what he had left her, she began, through Camille's incessant importunities to think on Marriage: In short, within the compass of some Months they were Married, to both their contents, after which they having returned infinite thanks to Don Alphonso and his Lady, to and given them some presents, as also the Justice who had been their Friend: they took leave of all and returned into Italy, taking along with them, the good Father Andrew, and Zora, where they were both provided for during their lives very plentifully; and Camille having made his peace with the Church, he enjoyed hi● Marchioness with great pleasure and content.  
FINIS.