THE HISTORY OF PHILOXYPES AND POLYCRITE, As it was told by LEONTIDES to the great CYRUS.  
Englished out of French, by an Honourable ANTI-SOCORDIST.  Ex pede Hercules. 
London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his Shop in S t Paul's Churchyard at the sign of the Prince's Arms. 1652.   

THE HISTORY OF PHILOXYPES AND POLICRITE: As it was told by Leontidas, to Artamene, or the great Cyrus.  
THAT you may the better understand this Story, it is requisite that you know part of the Customs of this Island, the which I will in a few words acquaint you with, that my ensuing Discourse may appear less tedious to you. You must then know, Sir, that this goodly Island, which for its precinct, situation, fertility, for the beauty and greatness of its Towns, and its Magnificent Temples, passeth for the most famous and most considerable of as many as lie on the Aegean Sea, hath always been consecrated to Venus; and that love, which every where else is a passion, which hath no particular privileges, is in this place accounted a religious act. All that are born here, seem as if they were bound to love from their very birth; all the Temples are dedicated to Venus, under several name●; all the pictures and statues here, represent only this Goddess, and depend only upon her. You shall find here Cupid set out every where, and those who instruct us elsewhere virtuously in our youth, by teaching us how to overcome ambition, anger, hatred, envy, and all other passions; deal otherwise with us here, persuading us only how to love innocently. But as there is nothing so pure or refined, which meets not with alteration and corruption at the last; a strange disorder crope in long since amongst us: for you must know the first Temple which was consecrated to Venus, was that of Venus Urania, who we say, is the daughter of Heaven. This Venus as we believe, inspires only rational resentments, and virtuous passions: whereas on the contrary, there are some Temples on the utmost borders of the Isle towards the South, built long since the former, which are dedicated to Venus Anodema, as much as to say, to Venus coming forth from the foam of the sea. Now Sir, these Temples do differ very much, as do their resentments, who offer sacrifices at them; yet as those Religions wherein Libertinism passeth for a virtue, are grounded with most ease, the Religion of Venus Anadiomena, hath for a long time prevailed over that of Venus Urania; and our Island hath seen things which makes those even blush with confusion, who remember they have heard them spoken of by their forefathers: but thanks to Heaven, a virtuous Queen, who lived some sixty years since, did re-establish all the Temples of Venus Urania; made almost all those of Venus Anadiomena, be beaten down; abolished all the shameful customs which were introduced in Cyprus, and left only pure resentments amongst us of that passion, which is the soul of the Universe, and which is the sole entertainer of civil society. We are now taught to love our Goddess, our Princes, our Laws, our Country, our fellow-Citizens, our Parents, Brethren, Wives and Children; and lastly, to love ourselves, to the end that we may do no shameful act. We are taught also to love Glory, Sciences and Arts; to love innocent pastimes, and to love beauty and virtue above all that hath been spoken of: in fine, we are taught that he who loves not, is not rational, and that not to have a sense of all these aforementioned things, is to be very much to blame. You may easily imagine then, that this being a belief generally held amongst us, the Court of Cyprus must needs be a pleasing abode, since every one there loves handsome actions, and handsome personages. True it is, that according to the rules of Venus Urania, the love by her permitted, is so pure, so innocent, so free from having any thing to do with the senses, and so free from fault, as she seems to suffer us to love others only, that we may make ourselves become the more lovely, through our care of meriting true glory, of becoming accomplished, and of getting that Courtly Air, and pleasing conversation, which is only inspired by love. This Sir, is the present condition of our Island; all delights are here, but all innocent. Love is the predominant, and universal passion in it, but such a passion, as is not incompatible with virtue and modesty, and which hinders not many lovers from complaining of their Mistress' rigour. Public festivals are here frequent, conversation free enough, but wholly spiritual, games for prizes very usual, pleasing Balls, excellent Music, and Women in general, infinitely handsome, full of gallantry, and perfectly virtuous. But of all the rest, the Princess of Salmis, sister to Philoxypes, was the Court-Star, till such time as she withdrew herself from thence. The Princess Aggharista, now Princess of Sicily, is also very taking, and the famous Artaphil doubtlessly bears a great renown. To boot with these there is one called Timoclea, and an hundred others, of somewhat a meaner condition, which are wonderfully handsome. But Sir, lest I may prove too tedious, I will briefly tell you that the King who now reigns in Cyprus, is but two years elder than Prince Philoxypes, who is descended from the Race of Demophon, son to Theseus, who is held in great esteem amongst us. Philoxypes in his younger years, you may easily judge was one of the loveliest personages which could be seen; for though he be now twenty eight years old, he continues to be so extraordinarily handsome, and so well behaved, as it may easily be guest what he was when a child; and though he were wise even from his cradle, and knowing, even from the time he began to speak, yet ceased he not to be of a pleasing humour, and comportment, such as is only infused by youth, and the air of the Court, and which is the charm of conversation amongst Ladies. In fine, set one article aside, Philoxypes may be truly said, to have fully satisfied and made good all the precepts of Venus Urania.  
He reverenced the Goddess, he loved his Prince, kept the Laws, he loved his Country, his fellow Citizens, was ambitious of glory, which he went inquest of at fifteen years of age in the Milesean War, wherein he gave singular testimony of his carriage. He loved the Sciences, and all the liberal Arts; delighted in innocent pastimes, and loved virtue above all things; but as for beauty, he had only a general admiration for it, and never felt in himself, any particular addiction or adheration to any whatsoever handsome Lady. You may imagine Sir, how strange this insensibility appeared, in a Court where it met not with any example, and in a man so fit to occasion love. Yet was he so lovely, as he was not for this the less beloved; he was so liberal, so magnifical, so full of complacency, and so civilly behaved, as he was the wonder of the world.  
When Solon after having established those famous Laws at Athens, went from thence, resolving to forgo his Country for ten years, to the end that he might make no alteration there, he came to our Court; Philoxypes, who was then but eighteen years old, had a great affection for him, as he had likewise for Philoxetes; insomuch, that as long as Solon abode in our Isle, Philoxetes gave over all his other delights, and the frequenting of the Lady's companies to fasten himself totally to him: whom that he might enjoy with the more freedom, he carried him to a Town of his which is called Apia; built by Demaphon in a very strong, but rocky situation, and of hard access, all the Country about it being craggy, dry, and exceeding barren. Solon being come thither, shown him how that they that laid the foundations of that Town, might have made it much more pleasanter, if they had built it upon the banks of the River Claria, in a spacious and fertile plain, which lies at the foot of the Mountain, where the other Town was situated; hardly had Solon spoke his thought, when Philoxypes resolved to put it in execution, and began already to give all necessary orders for it. And indeed Solon was the Architect who guided this great enterprise, Philoxypes giving him the glory thereof, for he called this new Town Soly, to perpetuate the memory of the name of Solon. This place being not far from Paphos, one of our King's most usual abodes, they went oft to the Court; where our Ladies complained sometimes of Solon, who by bereaving them of Philoxypes, bereft them of their fairest ornament; and to show you how great this Prince his inflexibility was, Solon whose virtue is not austere, to justify himself to those that blamed Philoxypes for this, telling him that love was a passion, which sweetened all other passions, and which did sometimes exceed them all. That for his part, he confessed he would never set his whole heart against it, and that he thought it no shame to be once in his life overcome thereby. Philoxypes said in his defence, that he loved all that was lovely, that he had a passion for all beautiful objects, and that no man ever loved so much as he. But notwithstanding all his universal affections, there was no one so fair in all the Court, who could boast in her particular to have enthralled his heart; and who peradventure had not more than once consulted with her glass, to know by what innocent art this so famous heart might be taken: but at last, after having stayed a good while, Solon went his way much taken with Philoxypes his virtue, and made some verses in his praise before he embarked for Egypt. He who was commended by all Greece, did highly commend this young Prince; saying, that Nature had taught Philoxypes in eighteen years, what Art could not teach in an Age, and that a man might see in him by way of prodigy, all the ages of man put together; that is to say, the innocence of infancy, the charms of youth, the fortitude of a more advanced age, and the wisdom of old age. After his departure, Philoxypes was somewhat melancholy, but this humour being over, he spent some time in travel, and did not only see whole Greece, but likewise the famous City of Carthage, which did then wage war with the massilians, who inhabit a place which they have of late made famous, by a cried up Academy, wherein eloquence, and all the Grecian Sciences are rarely well taught.  
I will not relate unto you all the gallant actions he did in Africa, nor what befell him during that Journey, which continued till some months before you came to Cyprus; where Solon stayed awhile again, not suffering himself to be seen almost by any one. But I will tell you that Philoxypes at his return to Court, charmed all the world; and that the King himself grew so far in love with him, as never was known so great a favour as his, nor yet so little envied; neither did he make use thereof, but for his Master's glory, and to do good to as many as he could; he rceceived no rewards, but to enrich such as stood in need thereof; all the advises he gave, were good; he did none but good offices: and thus he stood fair in the opinion of the great ones, and of the people, as well as in that of the King; and there were none but our Ladies who continued to accuse him of inflexibility. Thus did he live amidst delights, in the stateliest and most gallant Court of all the world, without envy, without love, and without melancholy. But the King was not this mean while so happy as he; for after having had some flitting passions, which had notwithstanding much disquieted him, he fell mightily in love with the Princess Aretephile, who certainly is very beautiful, and hath an hundred good qualities; but who withal this was extremely ambitious. The King was no sooner ware of the violence of this his passion, but that he discovered it to Philoxypes, and entreated him to intercede for him with Aretephile, who at that time did often visit the Princess Agarista, sister to Philoxypes. You may imagine this Prince did not refuse to assist him, since his affection was innocent; yet did he sometimes crave pardon of the King, if he did not much bewail him in his disquiets: For Sir, said he, love being a malady which I am not acquainted with, and which I have much to imagine is so great as man would have it thought, I confess I do not so much compassionate your Majesty, as perdaventure I ought; & consequently, I may perchance not so fully exaggerate your sufferings as I should do, when I speak with the Princess Aretephile. Fear not Philoxypes, said the King, that I complain of your inflexibility; on the contrary, if you had a more tender heart, I would not have chosen you for the confident of my passion: and did I think that you could become my rival, I would not give you Commission to speak so of ten with my beloved Princess. But my intention not being to speak of the King's love, otherwise then as it relates necessarily to Philoxypes adventures; I will only tell you that though Aretephile were ravished to see herself beloved by the King, yet aiming at the Crown of Cyprus, she thought she was a little to disguise her sense thereof, and to make it a harder matter for the King to win her, than she had found it to win the King: So as this Princess behaved herself with much discretion and reservedness, and mingling continually severity with mildness, the King stood long in need of Philoxypes assistance, whom Aretephile, who knew what power he had with the King, used with all possible civility. Philoxypes was notwithstanding sometimes much troubled at the continuance of this passion, which made him for his recreation, go to a very stately house, which the famous Solon had caused to be built for him near Solely, and wherein he had made a collection of whatsoever Greece had of most rare & curious, were it either for pictures, or statues. In this place it was, which is called Claria, where wondering sometimes at the King's passion, he did me the honour to bemoan himself to me of his employmen, and he himself gave me a thousand pleasant marks of his inflexibleness, by those things which he uttered against love. This mean while though the King were much in love with Aretephile, yet he had somewhat to do to persuade himself to marry her, because indeed in reason he should much rather have married the Princess Thimoclea, by reason of some claim she pretended to have to the Principality of Amathusa; insomuch as the King being yet unresolved what to do, had not as yet acquainted Aretephile, nor let her be acquainted that his love tended merely to set her upon the Throne; but only following the custom of Cyprus, he had sufficiently witnessed his service, and to purchase her esteem, had done whatsoever a handsome and ingenious Prince seconded by Philoxypes, could do, who though he were himself insensible of love, was notwithstanding a very great gallant; so as Aretephile who was absolutely resolved never to part with her heart for less than a Crown, treated the King sometimes severely enough, insomuch as the whole Court was troubled thereat, and Philoxypes delight lay only in Hunting, and in his stately Country house. Some other times Aretephile fearing lest she herself might extinguish the fire which she had kindled in the King's heart, was somewhat more kind unto him, and by the Prince his Joy, rejoiced the whole Court. 'Twas then in one of these pleasant conjuncture of times, that Phyloxypes to oblige the King, made the Princess of Salamis his sister, and the Princess Agharista do him the honour to entertain the King upon a day that he invited the King and all the Court to go from Paphos to Claria, and to pass one whole day in his retiredness, which indeed deserved to receive so Princely a company. Never was there so gallant an Assembly as this; it was wholly composed of young and handsome personages, of great birth, and understanding: and one would have said, that fortune had favoured Philoxypes, in ordering it so as that all persons of quality who were peevish or of ill humour in the Court, were either sick that day, or busied about some important affairs, so as this well compacted company was not troubled with the importunity of any of their companies: On what side soever they did cast their eye, they met with nothing but goodly objects, there was no fear of being wearied or annoyed. Philoxypes had taken such excellent order for all things, were it either for the stately furniture of the house, for the magnificency of the Feast, or the excellency of the Music, as the King to give him the highest praise he could, said aloud, that if Philoxypes had been in love, and that his Mistress had been in that company, he could have done no more than he did. On the contrary, Sir, said Philoxypes, I think that if I had been in love, all things would have been much more in disorder, than they are; it seeming impossible to me that a man should lose his reason, and yet have leisure enough to think of such trivial affairs. The King began then to oppose Philoxypes, and to tell him that he did little know the effects of this passion; and this he did more than once, as well for that he could hardly find a more pleasing entertainment by discourse, as also that by reproaching Philoxypes with his ignorance of love; he thereby found an opportune means to make the Princess Aretephile, who listened unto him, know that the passion he had for her, had made him very expert therein, Philoxypes did defend himself the best he could. Sometimes he said the fear of not being beloved kept him from loving; sometimes that he had so nice a soul as did avoid such pleasures as could not be purchased without pain; and consequently that love not being a voluntary thing, he was not to blame for that he did not love: and for his last reason, he said that the difficulty of the choice made him that he neither did, nor could resolve on any; for Sir, said he to the King, how is it possible to have the affrontedness to prefer any one of so many handsome personages as I see before all the rest? Ah, Philoxypes, said the King, the more you speak of love, the more pity do you move in me; and (speaking low in his ear) the more said he do you make me see that my Confident will never be my rival. After this, all the Ladies, and all the men of quality, began to argue the matter with him; he did sometime almost hate them all for their reproaching him with his inflexibility. When they had dined, Philoxypes led all this fair assembly into a stately gallery, painted all over by the hand of an excellent Master, named Mandrocles, who is of the Isle of Samos, and who having finished this rare work, some few days before this great Feast, was returned to his own Country.  
The story of Venus Urania, was the subject of all those pictures, in whom nothing but modesty was to be discerned. The Painter had not drawn the Graces all naked, as they usually are drawn, but had clothed them in transparent tiffany, which rendered all those figures very delightful; in one of the draughts, you might see Venus descend from Heaven in a Chariot, all of burnished gold drawn by Swans; a thousand little Cupids seemed to hover about her, and to be the first that lighted in the Isle of Cyprus, which is represented in the same piece, to prepare all things to receive her; in another piece, all those little Cupidons, erected unto her an Altar of Turffs, and made dress of flowers to adorn her; in another piece, this Goddess teacheth Cupid how to choose his golden shafts, which he meant to use; and in another, she put a Torch into his hand, and showing him the Sun which is painted at the top of that piece, seems as if she would tell him that she would have the flames wherewith he sets hearts on fire, to be more pure than the beams of this glorious constellation. In fine, Sir, this Goddess is represented in above twenty parts of this gallery; but though in different postures, you may still discern the same countenance. Though all in this Gallery be beautiful, this figure is incomparably beyond all the rest: all the rest are pictures, but this seems to be effectually a divine personage; for certainly there was never any thing seen of so much handsomeness; all the fair Ladies who Philoxypes had brought thither, were amazed to see it, and maugre themselves confessed that their glass shown them nothing like it. All their eyes were fixed upon a face so full of beauty, and they all agreed in one, that the Painter's imagination had far outdone what ever nature had done of most accomplished. After they had well eyed this Venus, for my part, said the Princess Aretephile, I would fain know whether Philoxypes heart could resist a personage who should perfectly resemble this picture? Since I have been able (replied he) to behold all these Ladies that are here, without daring to profess my service, it is to be believed, I should be as insensible for her, or rather as full of respect for her, as I have been for all the rest that I see, who are no less fair than he this Venus. 'tis not notwithstanding (said he smilingly, and without any other design, then to say somewhat of gallantry to entertain conversation) that I am not glad that this picture is only the effect of the famous Mandrocles imagination. For I confess unto you there is a certain charming, modest, and passionate air in the eyes of this Goddess, which would peradventure please me too much, were it a living beauty. Philoxypes had no sooner said this, but all the company began to smile at this first mark of his tenderness, which they had never before observed in him. There was not any one of them who would not willingly, if it had been possible, have inspired life into this picture, that they might see whether Philoxypes might be bend by her or no; and whether his rebel heart to love, would prove proof against her extraordinary charms. If this could be, said Princess Thimoclea, I wish at least that this fair personage should have as much sweetness in her soul as in her eyes, to the end that nothing might be wanting to Philoxypes happiness. On the contrary, said the Princess of Salamis, me thinks it were to be wished, that (to punish my brother for his inflexibility) she were as cruel, as fair; and I doubt me, added Aretephile, whether for his greater punishment, she were not to be wished to be proud and stupid: or rather, said Princess Agherista, inconstant, fickle, altering her humour every day; and for his yet farther punishment, added the King smilingly, that she were all that you all have said. At these words Philoxypes desired so much favour of them, as that they would suffer him to enjoy that quiet which liberty bestows on them who possess her: but the Sun being already low, he mentioned a walk to this fair company, who without resistance gladly accepted thereof. He led them into a large plot of ground, which makes an Island; for he had drawn a branch of the River of Claria round about it. Passing from thence over a little bridge, with ballasters of brass, he led them into an ally of Orange Trees, twelve hundred paces long, which the Sun could never get into, so large are those Trees, and so thick covered with leaves and flowers. Amidst this Ally there crosses a Channel of running water; at last you come to a place where eleven Allies cross one another; at the end of which, the river is every where seen, as if it were so delighted with that place, as it were loath to leave it. All these Allies are either of Orange Trees, or Citron Trees, or Myrrh, or Laurel, or Pomegranates, or Palm Trees: but after being come to the end of one of these Allies, into which Philoxypes sent them, they found themselves in a large Meadow, which is cut through in the middle by the River, which gathered together in that place, seems to be a great channel, which hath on its banks neither canes, nor rushes, nor reeds, nor little shrubs, but is only bordered by thick turf, and all besprinkled over with Flags of differing colours, with Narcissusses, with Lilies, and all other flowers, which love moisture and freshness. There are likewise on this River, great store of Swans, which swim so demurely, as you would think they were afraid to trouble the water which bears them up: and that there might nothing be wanting to this entertainment, Philoxypes had so ordered it, as this River was all covered over with Boats, made like Galleys, painted with lively colours, and guided by young Boys in Maratin apparel, but very handsome; who rowing gently with Oars painted red and green, came to the bank to receive this gallant company, who were played unto on rustic Music by young Shepherds very quaintly clothed, who drove herds along that Meadow on the other side of the River. Their Shepherd's crooks were all trimmed with brass guilt over, & strewed over with cyphers; their Flutes and little Bagpipes were as well decked as were their sheep, all whose horns were loaded with flowers. In divers parts of this Meadow, were an hundred lovely Shepherds, clothed in white, with hats of roses, who to make the place the more pleasing, mixed the melody of their voices to the rustic Music aforesaid. So sweet a place being doubtlessly proper to infuse joy, and pleasure, being no disposition to cruelty; the King found Aretephile a little more gentle; and all the worst treated lovers of this company, found at least some truce to their sufferings, and were maugre themselves delighted with so lovely a place, which was bounded about by a very high Pallesade, wherein Niches placed at equal distances, were statues of white Marble, the rarest that were ever seen in Greece.  
But I may seem to be myself enchanted in a place so full of charms, since I stay so long thereon: I must then haste to make this fair company departed, whom Philoxypes waited on back to Paphos, after having offered them a famous banquet. Some few days after, being teturned home, with intention to entertain himself alone there for two days, he spent all that time very contentedly: But Philoxypes his humour lying rather to like general beauties, wherein art hath nothing to do, than those where art undertakes to perfect nature; went out of his Park, and unaccompanied by any save one servant, he went to the River side, intending to walk along it till he should come to the head thereof, which is not far from thence, and which certainly is one of the goodliest things in the world: For this miraculous Springhead, which of itself makes a River, is enclosed by Rocks of an unaccessible height; at the foot of the greatest, and highest whereof, is a large cave which extends itself even to the loss of sight, both on the right hand & on the left, under unaccessible Rocks. At the bottom of this Cave, is a silent spring, which sometimes riseth up to the top of the den, and sometimes falls so low, as it is not above five or six foot high. This inequality is the cause why the River of Claria, as well as all the others of Cyprus, pass rather for a fair Torrent, then for a River; though this be not positively so, for it is never altogether dried up, as are all the rest. As he went towards this Cave, he got off horseback, leaving his horse with his servant, commanding him to wait his return, and not to follow him.  
Thus did he walk all alone, along these Torrents, with the sight and noise whereof, he was much delighted, when raising up his eyes, he might see some twenty paces off, a very handsome woman, though in a mean habit, who was sat upon a Rock, all covered over with moss; and who seemed to take pleasure in eyeing attentively the fall of waters which came rushing at her feet, as if to do her homage. At first Philoxypes thought not to trouble the contentment of one whose humour was so conformable to his, to sit musing upon the River side, and to turn a little aside, that he might not interrupt her. But being come a little nearer, and seeing that her apparel though clean, and handsome, gave her not out to be a personage of quality, he went directly towards her, because that was the easiest way. But being come very near her, and the noise his walking made, having made this woman look about, he was strangely taken; not only to see the handsomest creature in the world, but to discern perfectly that, that miraculous Venus which he had in his Gallery, and which he had always taken only for the effect of a handsome imagination, was really the picture of this personage; Philoxypes, ravished at this so strange apparition, changed his colour; and saluting this maid with more civility than her condition seemed to require, he advanced yet nearer her; but she rising up in haste, and having not without a blush paid him his salute, as if she had been troubled to be seen alone in that place, she hasted to go unto an old man and a woman well-advanced in years, who were not above twenty paces off her; yet fearing by like to be followed, she turned her head twice towards Philoxypes, who was still the more dazzled with her beauty, and more confirmed in his opinion. This Prince surprised at this encounter, had a great desire to know who this young and so wonderfully handsome maid might be; and to know also how Mandrocles could come to draw her picture; and why Mandrocles had always told him, that the picture which he had drawn, was only an effect of his fancy: He followed her with his eyes as far as he could; but having stood still a pretty while, not knowing why he did so, he lost sight of her amongst those Rocks after she was come up to those she went unto, so as he could no more discover her.  
Philoxypes did not overmuch endeavour it, though his mind led him very much thereunto, but coming near the River side, in stead of continuing to walk towards the Spring head, he went down the stream; and were it by hazard, or out of design, he happened to rest himself upon the same Rock covered with moss, on which he had seen the fair maid sit. Philoxypes being there, could think on nothing, but on this fair unknown one, and upon the pleasing adventure which had befallen him. He then remembered the discourse which had passed in the Gallery, and what he had said of that picture which every one so much commended; and delighting to entertain himself upon this subject, how glad said he unto himself, would Princess Aretephile be, if she knew what had befallen me, and how would the King mock me if he heard it? They would certainly say, that the Goddess had wrought a miracle to punish me, by making me meet with a Country wench, of whom to make the object of my choice. But said he, presently after, this Country maid is fairer than whatsoever there is of beauty in the Court; and I shall sufficiently revenge myself of all our Ladies, if I can once more meet with her, and let them see her. He then resolved to return the next day to the same place, and in the mean time not to speak of her till he had found her again. He then returned home, but full of amazement; at his first arrival, he went straight to his Gallery, and grew so confident in his belief, that his Venus Urania was the very picture of this fair unknown one, as he doubted no more thereof. He compared all the features of this picture, with the image which he bore about in his mind, not finding any difference between them save that the original was fare above what ever Mandrocles with all his art, could represent. He seemed to have observed in her face, a much more pleasing youthly air, a much more majestical modesty, and a sweetness infinitely more alluring. In fine, the Prince Philoxypes, who had wont to be more in his Closet, then in his Gallery, perceiving that the sight of this picture detained him there, whether he would or no, went forth much perplexed to see that once in his life time, he could not master his affections. He passed the rest of that day, and all the next night, not being able to eface this pleasing phantosm out of his mind. The next day he returned to the same place where he had seen that fair one, still thinking how he should be pleased to cause her be seen by the King, and the whole Court. But though he went up the River, even up to the head thereof, he could not find her; he sought her long in vain; and being angered thereat, he sought whether he could not find some little tract about that place where he had seen the fair unknown one; but it being all Rocky, no impression of footsteps could be seen there, nor could there be any tract found amongst the Rocks. Desperate then, as he was not to find any knowledge of what he so much desired, he returned back, absolutely resolving not to return any more to that place: yet was he no sooner at home, but that he wished to be at the River side; he enquired of all his servants, if they had never met any body thereabouts, which resembled that Venus; and asked them very particularly, into what places, and into what houses Mandrocles went when he painted his Gallery? They answered, that they had never seen her whom he spoke off, and that Mandrocles was a solitary man, who saw no body, who spent all his time in designing amongst those Rocks; and that he took almost always the way towards the head of Claria. Philoxypes not able to learn any more, did what he could to think no more thereon; but though he had resolved to return next day to Paphos, he stayed at Claria, (for his house bears the name of the River which passeth by it) and whatever design he had, never to return to seek out the fair unknown one, his feet maugre himself, bore him always towards the place where he had met her. He returned often from thence, not knowing why he would not willingly go thither, nor why he went thither, not having any thought of so doing. But at last yielding to his curiosity, he returned towards those Rocks, resolving to suffer himself to be guided by fortune; leaving always his servant and his horse where he left them the first time.  
He wandered then long amongst those Mountains, when being weary, he sat himself down, which he had hardly done, upon a neighbouring Rock, when he might discover afar off a little Cottage, in a place which appeared very savage unto him: so as rising up, it may be, said he unto himself, 'tis here where the Gods have hidden the Treasure, which I seek for. And indeed he had not walked far, when he saw the fair unknown one, accompanied by the same old man, and the same woman which he had formerly seen, and by three or four others all meanly clothed, which seemed to take a by-way which led to a little Temple, which lies towards the Sea side, and which was built for the accommodation of strangers, who traffic in that Island, and land on that side. The Temple not being above six furlongs from this little rural habitation, 'twas but a walk to go thither on foot.  
Philoxypes ravished at this encounter, went towards them; and addressing his speech to the old man, after having saluted, and looked on the fair unknown, with more admiration then at first; Father, said he, know you who they be that live in that little house which I see yonder amongst the Rocks? Sir, said he, they are people who merit not the honour you do them in speaking to them; nor do I know how my  should cause curiosity in a man of your condition.  
Whilst the old man spoke, Philoxypes had his eyes fixed upon the fair unknown one so attentively, as he made her blush, and forced her to turn her head aside; he willingly would have spoken to her, but that (as he told me afterward) he was afraid to ruin himself in so pleasing an enchantment; and that he should find as much rudeness in her conversation, as she had sweetness in her eyes; to boot, that he saw her to be so modest, as he easily imagined she would not speak long unto him in her parent's presence, (for he perceived she behaved herself as if she were the old man's daughter) he enquired also of the good old man, if he went oft to that Temple? whether his abode there had been long? whether he were of Cyprus, or no? whether that were his whole family? and a hundred other things to continue the conversation. To all which, though the other answered exactly, Philoxypes did hardly hear any thing he said; & thus they parted, after he had ta'en his leave of them all, hardly knowing what he said.  
Not having learned any thing, but that he had once more seen the fair unknown one, that she was much more lovely than he had thought her to be, that he knew her abode, and the Temple whether she sometimes went. He pursued her with his eyes as far as he could; but at last being ashamed of what he did, and seeking a reason for it, he returned back the same way, and went into his Gallery, it being the only place in all his house, wherein he pleased himself. When he was come thereinto, he began to walk with more disquiet than he had wont to be acquainted withal. And far from his former design of bringing the fair unknown one to the Court, he did as far as in him lay, put on a resolution of never seeing her more himself: so much was he affected with this second sight.  
To this purpose, he went forthwith out of his Gallery, got on horseback, and returned to Paphos; the King who loved him dearly, and who had as much of friendship for him, as of love for the Princess Aretephile, complained of his so long abode in the Country, and made as much of him as could be. He immediately entreated him to visit the Princess Aretephile, because there had been some little quarrel between them, which he acquainted him withal, making the most he could of it.  
Phyloxypes obeys him, visits the Princess, and makes them friends: but let him do what he pleaseth, or go whither he will, his thoughts are still busied about the fair unknown one; he compares her with all the beauties that he sees, and whether he behold Aretephile, Thimoclea, Agharista, or whosoever else, he can see none but his sister, the fair Princess of Salamis, who comes any way near her for beauty; but he preferred the other a thousand times before her, as being a thousand times more beautiful, than whatsoever the world hath of beauty. Two days after he returned to Claria, and the next day he went to the aforesaid little Temple, whether those that were of the Island went seldom or never, it being only built for strangers.  
And this was the reason wherefore the beauty of the fair unknown one, had not been noised abroad, neither in Apid, which is not far from thence, nor in Solely which is very near it, nor in Claria, which joins upon it. Phyloxypes, then maugre himself, went thither, whether he was no sooner come, but he saw the fair maid still accompanied with the same company, who devoutly prayed to the Goddess that is there adored. In fine, Sir, to keep that no longer from you, which Philoxypes had much ado to acknowledge to himself, this last sight fully conquered him; for the sacrifice being somewhat long, love had time enough to fasten him with his chains not to be untied. You may believe it had been easy for Philoxypes to have spoken to this maid, as she came out of the Temple, and to have followed her home, if he had pleased; but though love had already gotten the upper hand in his heart, yet had it not driven out shame from thence. And Philoxypes did me the honour to tell me afterwards, that he was so ashamed of his own weakness, and of the meanness of this maid's condition as he sometimes wished to be dead.  
This little assembly being gone, and he being returned home strangely perplexed, what said he to himself, is it possible that Philoxypes, that unflexible Philoxypes, who could never be wrought upon by all the fair Ladies of Cyprus, should be in love with one born in a Cottage, bred up amongst Rocks, and savage people? Ah, no, no: it cannot be. I would rather rip out my heart, then suffer it any longer to retain so mean, and so unworthy an affection. But (said he presently afterwards) there is somewhat of Divinity in Supreme beauty, which is not to be resisted. And if this unknown one be more fair than all the Princes of the world, she better deserves the love of the inflexible Philoxypes, than all they do. Yet I am sure, said he, when the wise Solon told me, That a man might without shame be once in his life time overcome by love; he understood it not to be by the love of a shepherdess, as doubtlessly she is— at these words not having power to end his speech and say, Whom I love; shame stopped his mouth, and for a while he said nothing.  
Then suddenly reassuming his speech, No, no, said he, Solon would not approve the folly which possesseth me: For in fine, to love a person so beneath ones self, a person, whose name one is afraid to ask; one to whom one hath never spoken, and to whom I dare not speak, for fear of finding her mind unworthy of her beauty, one who peradventure will not understand my language, who peradventure hath neither virtue nor goodness, and whom the Gods have endowed with extraordinary beauty, only for my confusion, and to make me despair; once more it cannot, it must not be; so dreadful an evil must be early withstood; and as there are some venoms whose mischief is only cured by themselves, the fair unknown one must cure me of the malady she hath caused in me.  
I must once more see her, and speak to her, to the end that the blemishes of her mind, and her rude conversation, may drive that beauty from out my heart, which her charming beauty and pleasing eyes hath placed there. But good Gods, replied he unto himself, is it possible so fair a personage should have any defaults? Think Philoxypes what thou wilt do; and fear lest whilst you think to find a cure for your evil, you render in incurable.  
Thus Philoxypes reasoned with himself, who in effect resolved to go the next day to the Cottage, where the fair unknown one dwelled, with intention to speak unto her, and so to cure himself, imagining that his shame to see himself in that Cottage, and the maids gross conversation, would infallibly salve his passion. But he knew not that 'tis an usual effect of love to make those who are in love, make use of all pretences, whereby they may come near those whom they love, not knowing themselves why they go thither.  
Philoxypes failed not then to go the next day towards the rocks, at foot whereof according to his custom he left his servants: But as he went he was much disquieted; sometimes he wished this young maid might neither have wit nor attraction; and by and by, desired again he might meet with nothing in her which might detract from her beauty. In fine, not knowing whether he desired to be sick or cured, whether he would be free or a captive, and not knowing also under what pretence to make this odd visit, he marched on till he came to a little Valley, seated between Rocks, stolen as it were from the world, and very fit, to say the truth, to hid so infinite a precious treasure. At the foot of this little Valley, there lies a pleasant Meadow; and upon the side of these Rocks, a little Wood of Myrtle' & wild Pomegranates, intermingled with some Orange Trees. At the bottom of this Wood, there stands a little House very low built, but in indifferent good repair: As Philoxypes drew near it, his troubles re-doubled, and he was almost tempted to turn back, so ashamed was he of his weakness. But at last being forced on by love, he entered into the fore-Court of this house, closed in with Laurels no higher then ones elbow, which are very common in this Island. At last, seeing a door open, he came into a little Chamber, decently, though but meanly furnished; in which, he found the fair unknown one, and two other women who made Garlands of flowers, intending to carry them the next day to the Temple, and give them to the Priest who lived there, to adorn the Victim, which was to be offered, there in sacrifice. You may imagine, how much astonished this young maid might be, to see such a one as Philoxypes enter her Cabin, who is always richly clothed, and who as you know, is of a very stately behaviour; she no sooner saw him, but rising up in haste she let all her flowers fall, thereby affording Philoxypes occasion of commencing conversation, who stooped down to gather up the fallen flowers: Sir, said she, endeavouring to hinder him, pray trouble not yourself, for our Woods and Meadows abound in the like, so as I may easily repair this loss, if these were spoiled. Those which your Woods and Fields produce, said he, are not of such worth as these, which I restore you, because they have not been gathered by so fair a maid as you. Sir, said she, blushing, the Goddess to whom I intent to offer them, will look more upon the intention of my heart, then upon my face, which certainly hath nothing in it, which may occasion you to speak as you do. But Sir, said she, (not giving him leave to interrupt her, to the end she might change the discourse) you have perhaps somewhat to command my Father, who will be very much troubled that he is not here, that he might have the glory to obey you: but he is gone forth with my Mother, and will not return till night.  
Philoxypes hearing her speak with so much judgement, and such civility, he having at most expected nothing but innocency, and simplicity in her conversation, had hardly the power to answer her. He beheld her with admiration, and listened to her with astonishment; he observed a decent negligence in her apparel, and her tone of speech so excessively charming, as he was ravished; she spoke not only Greek, but with all the Atique purity, and Courtly smoothness; her action was moreover infinitely becoming, having nothing in it, neither of affected, nor yet of Clownish. He found such modesty in her looks, and so lovely a freshness in her complexion, as he had hardly liberty to reply; yet after some strive within himself, 'tis true, fair maid, said he, I had somewhat to say unto your Father, but till such time as I shall see him, give me leave to ask you why he makes choice of so solitary an abode. Sir, said she, such is my respect unto him, as I never informed myself of what you desire to know; but I have sometimes thought that this place is not of his choice, and that he lives here, only to fit his mind unto his fortune, which not having destined him a Palace, hinders him not from thinking himself happy in his Cottage.  
But is it possible, said he, that this austere solitariness should not seem tedious to you? Sir! (replied she with a modest smile) you will doubtlessly think me very rustic and savage, when I shall dare to say, that the only trouble I have met withal amidst these Rocks, since I have lived here, is that wherewith I am now possessed, to see you in a place, where I use not to see any one; and where certainly I would not see you, were I in a condition to do otherwise; it not appearing seemly to me, that one of your condition, should busy himself in talking so long with such an one as I am. I should be very unhappy, said Philoxypes, if I should have offended you, or have appeared too importunate: but lovely personage, tell me I beseech you, your name, and your Parent's name, and tell me what God or Goddess 'tis that comes to instruct you in these Woods? Sir! said she, my name is Policrite, my Father is called Cleanthes, and my Mother Megisto; but as for those Gods which you say do teach me, they have as yet taught me so little, as I am ignorant even of civility: to witness which, I shall take the boldness to say, that since those on whom I depend are not here, I shall desire you not to take it ill, if I entreat you not to tarry any longer in a place, wherein you will find more of incommodity, then content. I shall not alter my mind, replied Philoxypes for what you say, but must once more affirm, that doubtlessly the Gods have in a moment inspired you, with what others have much ado to learn in their whole lives. For that you should be the fairest maid in all the world, and fairer in a Cottage, than Queens are in their Palaces; though this be very much, yet is it not impossible, but that living amongst Woods and Rocks, you should behave yourself, and speak as you do, 'tis this, fair Philocrita, that I cannot comprehend; nor can I imagine that you were born here amongst these savage Rocks; 'Tis true, Sir! said she, I am not of this Island by birth; but was so young when I parted from Creta, as I hardly remember any thing thereof. 'tis true, the conversation which I have here, cannot have given me the accent of the Country, for I speak with none but those of this family, who are no more of Cyprus then I.  
What, Policrite, said Philoxypes, do you spend your whole time without speaking, and yet speak as you do? Once more, this Cottage is unworthy of you; and some means must be found out to draw you hence. I am so well contented here, Sir, said she, as I should thereby receive an injury; and I imagine you have no such design; therefore I conjure you to leave me in that solitariness that you found me; for neither will I say much more unto you, not being able to speak any thing of mine own experience.  
Philoxypes, who observed that this young maid was indeed troubled to see him tarry so long with her, though it were in no dis-obliging manner, was loath to anger her; so as with much violence used upon himself, after having saluted her with such reverence, as if she had been upon a Throne, he offered to be gone. But, Sir, said she, with much candour, you know my name is Policrite, and I cannot tell my Father what his name is, that hath done him the honour to inquire after him. You may tell him, replied this Prince, transported with love, my name is Philoxypes. Alas, Sir! answered Philocrita, I beg your pardon, if I have not used you with such respect as I ought. Is not then, said he, my name unknown unto you? No, Sir, said she, and I have heard my Father, though he knows you not himself, say such things of you by the report of others, as I am sure will make him rejoice exceedingly, when he shall know that you will do him the favour to command him any service. Philoxypes, enchanted to hear Policrite speak in such sort, said unto her a thousand passionate and obliging things, if she would have understood them; to which she still replied with such readiness and modesty, as he still became in love with her more and more.  
He then took his leave of her, and departed from this Cottage, with an unconceivable sorrow, being come to the same place where he first saw her, he stayed; and beholding on the one side his goodly and magnificent Palace of Claria, and on the other side this little Country Cottage: Ah, Philoxypes, cried he, who would believe, that in the condition thy soul is in, thou canst prefer this unlucky Cottage before that stately Palace? and that thy heart so insensible of love, and so ambitious of true glory, can abase itself before Policrite's feet? But then, said he again, is it possible that Philoxypes should love any thing which is not the handsomest thing in the world? And if it be so, Policrite ought to be the object of his desires and love. I say, Policrite, in whose looks is no art, whose words are sincere, all whose thoughts are innocent, who knows not what a sin is, whose heart is not prepossessed with any passion, who as yet loves nothing but the Woods, Fields, Flowers, and Fountains; who is hardly conscious of her own beauty, and whose inclinations are doubtlessly all virtuous. But when all is done, said he, after a little pause, love is a weakness, from whence I have till now defended myself, only because I did verily believe, that it was handsome not to be capable thereof; but to love a personage of so unequal birth, is a folly, which I ought by all means to withstand. For in fine, with what face shall I dare to appear at Court? How fair soever Policrite be, I dare not show the irons she makes me wear; they must either be broken by force, or so cunningly concealed, as no man may ever discern them.  
With this resolution did Philoxypes return home, and from thence to Paphos; but he was so possessed with melancholy, as he was forced to fain himself sick. The King, who saw him that very night, both with himself, and with the Princess Aretephile, perceived his perplexity, and pressed him to know the cause: But Philoxypes answered him as he had done the rest. The Court was very great that day, and all that was gallant, was there; which occasioned Philoxypes in his rave, to inquire of himself an hundred and an hundred times, why, since he was to love, it was not some of those illustrious personages? Yet though he would use violence upon himself, and endeavour to love by reason, he could never compass it. And Policrite's image was so deeply imprinted in his heart, as nothing could eface it. He passed over 3 days thus with very much disquiet, and on the 4th maugre himself, he returned to Claria, and from thence to Cleanthes, whom at his first approach, he found leaning upon that little palisado of Laurels, which encompassed his Court. As soon as this wise Old man saw him, he stepped unto him, and received him with such Civility as had nothing of Rustic in it. Sir, said he, I thought my Daughter had been deceived when she told me your Name, which kept me from coming to Claria to receive your Commands; to boot, that 'tis hard to imagine, that a Man of my Fortune and Age may be any ways serviceable to such a Prince as you. Virtue and worth, said Philoxypes, makes friends unto itself of all Ages, and of all Conditions. But Cleanthes the only thing I desire to know of you, is whether it be out of necessity, or out of choice, that you inhabit this little House? for, if it be the former, you shall not tarry long here; and if the latter, I will come and live with you sometimes; at which Cleanthes smiled, and said, Poor Cottages, Sir, are no proper abodes for great Princes. 'Tis very true, said Philoxypes, neither aught great Worth to be confined to little Cottages, but doth much better become great Palaces: I therefore proffer you my House Claria, where you and your Family may live more commodiously than here. Sir, replied Cleanthes, 'tis handsome for a personage of your condition and worth to be willing to relieve the distrested, but it were not just to abuse that Goodness, which may be better employed on some better occasion. For, in fine, Sir, I suffer no want in this Cottage, my mind being no greater than it; I here live in quiet; and finding in this little corner of the earth sufficient to keep me from being troublesome to any body, I live here much more happily than those who live in Palaces, and whose desires are not therein bounded. But wise Cleanthes, said Philoxypes, will you not tell me what Fortune 'tis that hath brought you hither, and acquaint me precisely with your condition? Sir, said the good Old man, I am descended of honest Parents, of an indifferent Fortune; for mine, you see it is mean enough, and I assure you my worth is not extraordinary. I was forced to forego my Country, for many reasons, too long now to tell, and to seek out a place of Retirement in this Island, where I have lived a good while; but said Philoxypes, are you not afraid lest Policrite, who may justly be termed a Treasure, may not be safe in such a place as this? if I should grant, answered Cleanthes, that Policrite should be what you say, since this Treasure is only known by Prince Philoxypes, I should think it safe enough; you have reason, Father, said he, for what you say, for I engage myself to protect you, against what, or whosoever shall go about to injure you. After this Cleanthes led him into his House, where he found Megisto, Cleanthes wife, who received him so Civil, as he easily discerned that there was nothing of Rustic nor savage in this family. She had by her young Policrite, and another Maid handsome enough, whom Policrite called Sister, and whose name is Dorida: But, good Gods, how fair did Policrite appear to Philoxypes that day? Her Hair which hung carelessly over her Neck, and which were the one half covered by a thin Tiffany, were tied back behind her head, with a Garland of Orange and Pomegranate flowers, over which hung a thin Veil, with which she covered her Face when she went in the Sun, and which very well became her Dressing: The rest of her Apparel was white, of a handsome shape; her Sleeves, which were very large, were trust back with Ribbons of several colours; and rhough there was nothing of stately in this habit; and that instead of Pearls and Diamonds, she was only decked with flowers, yet was there somewhat of so handsome and so comely in her Dressing, as she never appeared so fair to Philoxypes, the more he saw her, the more he was in love with her; and were it that he entertained Cleanthes, that he spoke to Megisto, that he addressed himself to Policrite, or that he said somewhat of civility to Dorida, he was still more and more taken. What did he not do to make them tell him somewhat more than Cleanthes had told him, and to persuade them that he might fit them with a better Lodging? He offered Cleanthes Jewels to dispose of at his pleasure; but let him do what he could, he could learn nothing, nor obtain nothing, save only leave to come and visit them sometimes, which they granted him, merely because they knew not how to deny it him. I will not stay to tell you how frequently Philoxypes returned thither during twelve Day's space which he stayed at Claria, without returning to Paphos; but I will tell you, that Cleanthes, who had understanding enough, and Megisto who wanted not any, easily perceived that it was Policrite's beauty which occasioned this Prince his so frequent Visits, he read her a long Lesson, and wished her to have a care of herself, and that she should consider that Philoxypes his affection could not but redound to her prejudice: and that therefore she should live with him, as with one whom she should never look upon but merely with respect, not suffering him to engage her in any particular affection. This mean while Philoxypes, who perceived he should never have the Freedom to speak to Policrite in particular, unless it were by chance, came so often thither, as he met her once unaccompanied by any save the young Dorida. This being too fair an occasion to let slip, he drew near unto her, and expressing much Love in his looks, Think not, Policrite, said he, that I have any thing of mis-becoming to say unto you, though I have diligently watched to entertain you alone; 'Tis only that not knowing how you will receive my affection, I was not desirous to have any witnesses of my misfortune or happiness. Sir, said she, with a Maidenly-blush, before you speak, consider I beseech you where you are; mark well the Cottage wherein I live, and see what  I wear. No, Policrite, replied he, I see nothing but your Eyes, and had you a Crown of Diamonds on your head, I should no more mind it then what you speak of; so firmly are my looks fixed upon your Beauty. Permit me then, Sir, said the discreet and fair Maid, to teach you another thing, which it may be you are ignorant of, and which ought to keep you from saying any thing of unfitting to me. 'Tis, Sir, that this very Policrite, whom you see in this Country Cottage, who is thus simply attired, who is only known to these Woods and Rocks, hath notwithstanding her meanness and simplicity, so tender a sense of Honour, that should you offend her never so little therein, she were able to die for sorrow and dislike. Be careful then, Sir, to say nothing which may make Policrite believe, that you know her not; for, in fine, she hath such a passion for Virtue, as she should have much ado not to hate those who should say any thing unto her in opposition thereunto. Fear not, said he, fairest Policrite, that I shall say any thing to you, which shall offend you, at lest which should offend you; for I protest unto you in the presence of the gods, who hear me, that the passion which you have for flowers, fountains, and for these enameled fields, is not more pure, nor more innocent, then that which I have for Philocrita; and if there be any difference between them, 'tis that the affection which I bear to her, is so violent and strong, as there is nothing which I shall not willingly undertake to witness it unto her: You cannot better do it, Sir, said she, then in doing me the favour to say no more such things unto me, which will only serve to trouble the quiet of my life, since if I should not believe you, I should certainly be somewhat troubled to think you would laugh at my simplicity; and if I should believe you, I should almost despair, for being the cause why a great Prince should contract a passion so unworthy of him, and from whence he can never reap any advantage.  
For in fine Policrite knowing herself, and knowing you also, would not herself commit a fault, nor yet cause you commit one for love of her; do not therefore engage yourself Sir, in so angersom an adventure: Let me alone (said she, looking upon him with an eye, which did rather detain him then drive him away, though it were done without art) let me alone I say, amongst our woods and rocks, and get you to your palaces where you will be much better than here. Philoxypes was astonished to hear Policrite speak thus, when throwing himself at her feet, no, no divine Policrite said he, you are not what you appear to be; and though you were so, yet would your virtue place you in a degree above all the Queens in the world. Sir said she, raising him up, think not that I am to be won by flatteries; for though I know not the world by mine own experience, I know it by my Parent's relation. I therefore know that love is a dangerous passion, and not knowing precisely what it is, I know it ought to be avoided; and that I ought rather to apprehend that love which you say you bear me, than any other. And wherefore, Policrite said he, do you thus treat that innocent passion, which you raised in my heart? because said she, it cannot be but injurious to Philoxypes, or to Policrite. but say for God's sake said he, suppose that Policrite were a Princess, or that Philoxypes were of the same condition that Policrite is; what would you then think of him? I cannot tell said she, but this I know sir, that though I should esteem him never so much, nay, though I should love him very much, Cleanthes and Megisto should always absolutely dispose of me. Say then said he, if they should be favourable, would you without any repugnancy obey them? Sir said she, smiling a little, I have been so told that I must not lightly trust any one, as I think it not convenient to reveal so great a secret to you. Hereupon Cleanthes and Megisto returned, and broke off their discourse; Philoxypes presently observed that these two persons were troubled at his visits; he therefore resolved not to be so frequent in them, lest he might for ever lose a happiness, which now he might sometimes enjoy. Thus, Sir, Philoxypes after some short discourse departed, and returned not only to Claria, but to Paphos, whether the King had also sent for him; not being able to let him be so long alone and solitary, all the Ladies, and the whole Court complained of him, and could not comprehend the reason of his so long retirement; The King continued to give him new testimonies of his affection, by bestowing on him the government of Cythera, which was fall'n void by the death of the former governor. He acquainted him with what had befallen him during his absence, with Princess Aretephile, and conjured him to speak always to her in his behalf. For said he, Aretephile hath taken a fancy to be sure of the Crown of Cyprus, before she give me her heart, and I will have her give me her heart, before I give her the Crown. Philoxypes promised the King to speak to Aretephile, but it was with such sadness as all the Court took notice of it. He did almost always little better than rave, he would mistake, and say one thing for another, he shunned company, and as soon as he could, he returned to Claria. He found more resistancy in Policrite, than he thought to have met withal; for she, fearing all things, durst hardly look upon this Prince; the difference of his condition, though it made her more obliged unto him in her soul, yet was it the reason why she treated him so coolly. Philoxypes would have presented the whole Family, but they all refused to receive any. This mean while he was still more unhappy; for though he loved Policrita passionately, and that he valued her more than all the world besides, yet could he never put on a resolution of making any one acquainted with this his so meanly placed passion: He would certainly have been able to live with Policrita in any desert Island; but he knew not how he could avow the marrying a Maid of her condition, to the world; yet did he still love her with a respectful affection, not giving way to any sinful desire: That pure and unartificial virtue which he saw in Policrita, infused into him a greater respect for her, then if she had been seated on a Throne; he than perceived he loved, without hope of ever finding a remedy for his evil, upon lesser terms, then resolving to abandon the Court, and Kingdom, and to ask Policrita of Cleanthes upon so vexatious terms; but that which most of all afflicted him was, that he knew not how he stood in Policrita's affection; he found her mild and civil, he observes no marks of hatred in her countenance; but there was therein also so great a reservedness, and so exact a modesty, as he could not penetrate her thoughts: He thought also, that Policrita was grown somewhat more melancholy than she had formerly been, and indeed he was not mistaken, for Philoxypes his handsomeness, his good behaviour, his wit, and civility, being things not to be seen without liking; young Policrita could not see herself beloved of such a Prince as he, without having her heart a little touched with acknowledgement; yet seeing herself in a condition so fare beneath his, and out of a sense of virtue she must resist this budding affection, she could not but be afflicted at this conquest which she had made; and to bemoan herself thereof to her dear Dorida who had wit enough. Sister! said she unto her, how happy are you in comparison of me, who can take pleasure in walking abroad, in gathering of Flowers, in hearing birds sing, and the fall of waters, and in not being reduced to a condition of complaining of too much good fortune: For in fine Dorida, Philoxypes heart is a conquest which I am sure the greatest Queens would be proud to have made; yet whilst they might innocently rejoice thereat, I must be therewithal afflicted: I could wish I had never seen him; or at least I think I could: For when all is done, though methinks I could hearty desire that he would love me no more, yet am I glad to see him. But if love, replied Dorida, be so powerful a thing as it is said to be, how know you but that Philoxypes may love you well enough to marry you? Ah Sister, answered she, as I would do nothing misbeseeming me, so neither would I that Philoxypes should do any thing that might misbeseem him to do: But, said Dorida, by like than you love Philoxypes, since you interest yourself in his honour, against yourself. Policrita blushed at this discourse, and looking confusedly upon Dorida, if you were better acquainted with this passion than I, said she, I would tell you whatsoever my soul is sensible of, to the end I might know what to think of it; But I cannot yet believe that this dangerous disease be yet got into my heart; for if you remember well, we have heard Cleanthes say, and we have read it more than once, that love makes one lose their reason; that it causeth a thousand pains, and vexations, that it sometimes makes people do amiss; and I thank heaven, I do not yet feel any of all this; me thinks my reason is free enough, and I am well enough pleased with the melancholy which possesseth me: For 'tis true, I oft times talk I know not what, but I delight in doing so; and though I would not love Philoxypes, yet there are certain moments wherein I am well enough pleased that he should love me: But as for any thing of fault, so fare am I from being willing to commit any, as I protest unto you, that were it for no other reason, than not to lose Philoxypes his esteem and good opinion, I would die a thousand deaths rather than do any thing that should be unjust. You may then believe, that whilst I love virtue, and would become worthy the affection of so great a Prince, I will never do any thing contrary to reputation. I believe you, answered Dorida; but for all this Sister mine, you deceive yourself, if you believe you love not Philoxypes: For in a word, you do not love what you loved before you knew him, you are somewhat more comely, you consult oftener with the Crystal fountains, and you are quite another thing than you were. Ah Sister, replied Policrite, if that were true which you say, I would quickly take order for it, I would never see Philoxypes, but to use him harshly; to the end, that he hating me, I might no longer love him. These two young people having entertained themselves thus upon the bank of a little rivelet, Cleanthes and Megisto, who had altered their minds, came thither; and bidding Dorida withdraw a little; Megisto began to say; Policrite! it is not many days since I told you, that in respect of your condition, you should never look upon Philoxypes, but with a great deal of respect; but fearing lest through that inequality which you may believe to be between you and him, you may not appear to be so much obliged to him for his affection, as indeed to put somewhat too great an estimation thereupon: Cleanthes and myself have resolved to tell you, that your true condition considered, you are not bound to behold Philoxypes at any time, but with a great deal of indifferency: For in a word, said Cheanthes, not to disguise the truth from you any longer, you are what you think not yourself to be, and we are likewise that which you know not, and what you shall not as yet know; because the Gods have not permitted us as yet to let you know it: But to show you how much you are more obliged than you think for, to be virtuous, know Policrite that you are of as Noble blood as any is in all Greece: And how answered Policrite, interupting him, am I not what I always thought to be? No daughter said he; to number Kings amongst your Ancestors, is not the greatest mark of honour that you make boast of. There is somewhat of more August in your race, than what I speak of: Therefore that I might raise up your heart, I thought it good to trust you with this important secret, (which I charge you not to reveal to any one) as also to let you know the better how much bound you are not to do any thing unworthy of your Father's house, nor of the condition you are born in. Policrite was exceedingly joyed to hear Cleanthes speak after this manner, though her joy was not over quiet; for she was in trouble to know more precisely what was told her. Father said she, leave me not in such perplexity; tell me a little more plainly, I beseech you, so pleasing a truth, and let me know who I am.  
The Gods have forbidden us it, my daughter, answered he, by the mouth of an Oracle: you must be content with what you have heard: but make use thereof to defend yourself against Philoxypes love; and far from looking on him, as on a Prince who hath done you too much honour: look rather on him, as on one whom you shall favour by your permittance.  
This is not, said Cleanthes, to deny, but that Philoxypes is endowed with all the virtues and qualities requisite for a great Prince; but 'tis, my child, to let you know, that there is a certain pride which doth not misbecome a young maid to defend herself thereby against love, when we have an esteem; for those that are above us, 'tis hard to gainsay, if they entreat. And on the contrary, when we believe them to be beneath us, or at least but our equals, we stand not much upon denying them unjust things. Policrite assured then Cleanthes and Megisto, That though she had known nothing of what they now had told her, she should never have done any thing contrary to that decency which she had learned of them. But how much were they mistaken, if their design were to hinder Policrite from loving Philoxypes.  
Sometimes she was filled with joy, to know that she was of Noble descent; and afterwards, being willing to make use thereof; to drive thereby the beginning of affection which Philoxypes worth had already raised in her, out of her heart, she found it the more fortified by this knowledge. For said she, the knowledge of what I am, doth not take from the obligation which I owe him; since he knows not that I am any thing more than what I seem to be.  
But for me, who now know what I am, why should I not hope that the Gods permitting Philoxypes to know my true conditition, may not so order it, as that I may love him and be blameless, and be beloved by him innocently? No, no, Policrite added she, let us no longer defend our heart any longer with such opiniatrecie; let us content ourselves with concealing our recentments, & do nothing that shall be faulty: & let us not reject, as a mischief the love of a Prince, to whom the wisest king of the world would not refuse to giv his daughter. But it may be, said she, that Philoxypes doth but counterfeit, that he hath sinful thoughts towards thee, and that thy simplicity abuseth thee.  
Stay then, said she, to be resolved herein, and make trial of his constancy and fidelity, by an appearing indifferency, which may leave him without hope.  
Thus was Policrite minded, when Philoxypes came to her; as soon as she saw, him she b●gan to go towards her Cottage; but he, advancing hastily, stayed her; yet not being above twenty paces from it, and there being two of her women-servants at work in a Close hard by them, she stayed. What, Policrite, said he, you eat a Prince, who shuns all the world for love of you? Sir, said she, (after somewhat more an imperious manner then before, though she intended not so to do) I do what peradventure you ought to do: For in fine, what advantage can you hope for by your visits and solicitations? The contentment said he, to hear from your fair mouth, that you do not hate me: If that be all you desire to be satisfied in, replied she, you may easily compass your desires; but ask no more, upon pain of refusal. What, lovely Policrite, said he, will you never love me, and shall all I can do to win your affection, prove useless? no, 'tis impossible, were you as insensible, as those pictures which I have of you. My pictures, replied Policrite? Yes, added Philoxypes, I am not so unfortunate as you think for; in despite of you, and without your consent, I have the contentment of seeing you daily.  
Ah! said Policrite, I perceive Mandrocles hath betrayed me, and hath falsified his word. Philoxypes asked her then, how she came to know Mandrocles? She told him how that famous Painter walking daily when his leisure would permit him, amongst those rocks to draw some lanskips, had one day by chance light upon their house: where, having seen her, he had begged leave of Cleanthes to draw her picture, which Cleanthes would have refused him, but that seeing his importunity, he was afraid lest he might speak of her to him at Claria, and that therefore he gave way unto his desire, upon condition that he should not make use of this picture, in any of his pieces, but as of a head made by fancy and imagination, and making him take a solemn oath, never to speak with any body whosoever, of any acquaintance he had with them. That since that time, as long as Mandrocles tarried at Claria, he came to teach her to design, and had drawn her picture in twenty several postures. She then enquired of Philoxypes, whether Mandrocles had spoken to him of her, or no? And he told her the whole truth: but you may perceive, said Philoxypes, that the Goddess whom you represent, intends not that you should always be inhuman, since she would herself appear in your visage.  
Sir, said she, not being of your Isle, my devotion leads me rather to be a Votaress to Diana, then to worship Venus Urania; therefore it is not this your reason that will prevail with me: to boot, that his Goddess approving only of such passions as are innocent, will certainly never council me to admit of yours. Virtue's self, replied Philoxypes, would advise you to it; and did you know my heart, you would need no other Councillor than yourself. It would take up so much time, replied she, to make me know it, as I shall advise you not to undertake the work. But said he, if I do undertake it, and if I make it evident to you, that never man loved any thing as I love you, what will you then think? I would think, said she, that you were very unfortunate, in having so passionately loved one, who is unworthy of so much honour. But said he, would you think yourself any ways obliged unto me? I should be sorry for you, said she, and would wish your cure either by absence, or by forgetfulness.  
Ah! cruel maid, said he, wish it rather by your compassion and charity; and promise me only that you will afford me leisure to persuade you, that I am the most in love of all men. To do as you say, said she, would be to be somewhat persuaded thereunto already; therefore (and with this, she walked towards her Cottage) I will listen no longer to you. After this manner did Philoxypes pass away his time; having but very few moments of delight, amongst many hours of anguish.  
This mean while, he could not endure to tarry at Paphos, and when he went thither, all he could do, was only to visit the Princess Aretephile, which the King compelled him to do; but he appeared so melancholy, and so changed, as he was hardly to be known. The King, who loved him dearly, was much afflicted to see it; he together with the whole court, sought what might be the occasion of this alteration; but they could not find it. The King asked it of Philoxypes self, but could learn nothing. Philoxypes answering always, that it was some melancholy, which proceeded certainly from his temper, and from some little indisposition of health.  
But said the King, solitariness is no usual cure for such incommodities; wherefore you ought not to go any more to Claria: Yet affairs went still on thus, yea even when Winter was come, which did the more astonish the whole Court; they knew he built no more at Claria, that the Painters and Engravers, who had been so long there, were all gone; that the season was foul; that when he went thither, 'twas but with a small train; and that he walked always alone: they saw a strange sadness in his face, and a wonderful alteration; and all this without any appearing cause. The King heaped favours and honours upon him; he asked him an hundred times, what he would desire of him: he had not any one enemy; the whole Court loved him; he was exceeding rich; he appeared not to have any sickness, as the Physicians could perceive: In fine, his melancholy and retiredness, were things which could not be guest at. The whole Court talked of nothing else; and the King was strangely troubled at it; who, not knowing how to inform himself of what Philoxypes ailed, he bethought himself of me, whom he knew this Prince did love particularly, and in whom he did more confide, then in any other.  
Thus upon a day, when Philoxypes was gone to Claria, the King sent for me; and after having assured his Majesty, (as it was true) that I knew nothing of particular concerning this Prince his melancholy, he did me the honour to command me to go to him, and to use all my cunning to discover what it was that was in his mind: For, said he, Leontidas, I do so love Philoxypes, as I cannot live content unless I see he do so likewise; and were it to give him half my Kingdom, I would doubtlessly do it, rather than not to give him satisfaction.  
I then departed, really intending to endeavour to satisfy the King's curiosity, who certainly stood in need of Philoxypes presence, to counsel and comfort him concerning Aretephiles behaviour; for I think there was never known a stiffer combat between ambition and love.  
I went then to Claria where I found Philoxypes in his usual melancholy; the which I made the greater, because I hindered him from going that day to Cleanthes. At first sight of me, he endeavoured notwithstanding, to enforce himself to honour me so much, as to seem glad to see me; but it was after a fashion, which made me easily see that his heart gainsaid his words; and that notwithstanding any friendship he had for me, he wished I had tarried still at Paphos.  
Leontidas! said he, I am much beholding to you for coming to visit me in a season, when the Country hath lost all its ornaments; and when the Court is fullest of diversions.  
Sir, said I, you commend me with less reason, than the Court complains of you; for to forgo Paphos for Claria, when you are there, 'tis to forgo the Court, for the Court; nay, for the most pleasing part of the Court: but to forgo Paphos, only to seek out solitariness at Claria, as you do, Oh, Sir, said I, (not suspecting him notwithstanding of any passion) 'tis all that a Prince in love, who is upon bad terms with his Mistress, can do. Philoxypes blushed at these words, and looking upon me with a kind of smile, which did not, notwithstanding drive the melancholy from his countenance; I perceive, Leontidas, said he, I am not so much beholding to you, as I had thought, since doubtleslie you are come hither rather to chide me, then to visit me.  
I am come, Sir, said I, to try whether I may not be able to serve you in a time when all the world believes that somewhat of great importance, which they cannot guests at, doth afflict you. Leontidas, said he, I am much bound to you, but I should be so more, if you could hinder the Court from looking so far into my heart. For I confess said he, I find it somewhat hard that a man may not look inwards sometimes, though whilst he does so, he is hardly master of his own mind.  
Sir, said I, were you less beloved, you would not suffer under this persecution which you complain of: This kind of Love replied he, causeth in me no small suffering: For what can I more rationally do, then to conceal my Melancholy in a retiredness, to the end that I may not trouble the joy of others. But Sir, said I, 'tis the cause of this Melancholy which every body seeks after, and none can find: as for my particular, I must crave your pardon if I do. For Sir, 'tis not ambition that torments you. No, Leontydas, said he, if I were sick of that disease, the King would quickly cure me. Neither is it revenge, said I, for not being hated by any, it is not to be believed that you are possessed with hatred. You have reason for what you say, said he; and sighing added, I think I am mine own greatest enemy. It is not said I again the passion which you have for books, for that passion may cause solitariness, but not such melancholy as you are possessed withal. And moreover, you have had that passion a long time, without the product of so bad an effect. It is not books certainly said he, which cause my trouble, which were I capable of reason, would rather be my comfort. It is not Love said I, that torments you, for you see none that can cause it in you. Conclude then, said he, taking me in his arms, that there is no more to be said, but that I hate myself, that I have lost my reason, and if my friends be wise, they will let me alone, and will leave the knowledge, or cure of my malady, to the process of time.  
Sir said I, shall Leontidas, who hath so particular an affection for you, be dealt withal as others are? shall he have known nothing more of your concernments, then do your enemies, if any such you have? Ah, Sir, said I, you must if you please do otherwise: & to prove to you that Leontidas doth in some sort deserve you should do so, know Sir, that hitherto I have spoken unto you as a spy, sent by the King, who will know at whatsoever prize, what 'tis that afflicts your mind. But after having bootlesly acquitted myself of my Commission, I speak no longer Sir, as one sent by the King, but as one who is resolved to serve you with his life, if it shall be needful; and never absolutely to give you over till he know the cause of your Melancholy: for Sir, if there be no cause of this Melancholy, and that it be but a distemper of humours, I must stay here, that I may endeavour, maugre yourself, to divert you; and if there be any cause for it, Leontidas must likewise serve you therein, if there should redound no other benefit to you thereby, then to help you to keep it concealed from the King, and from the whole Court, if you desire it should be concealed from them.  
I do not know any way, said he, to keep it undiscovered better, then to tell it to no body.  
But Sir, said I, if you treat me with this indifferency, when I shall return to Paphos, and the King shall ask me what I think of your Melancholy, I must needs say something to him.  
And what will you say to him, replied Philoxypes? I think Sir, said I, that to revenge myself for the little confidence you have in me, I will say what I do no ways believe, to wit, that you are in love; and that the shame of your former inflexableness, or of your new weakness, hinders you from avowing it: nay, I will peradventure tell him, said I, in mockery, that that Venus Urania, which people have so much quarrelled with you about since the great feast which you made here, and which did precede but a few days your melancholy humour hath struck you effectually in love. In fine sir, there is nothing of so odd, which I shall not say to revenge myself for the wrong you do the passion which I have to your service.  
During this discourse; Philoxypes changed colour twenty times; and were it out of friendship, or out of my importunity, or that indeed those that are in love love naturally to speak thereof, he took me by the hand, led me into his Cabinet, and after having made me take sundry solemn Oaths, never to discover what he should say unto me; and all this with as much ceremony, and pressure, as if he had some conspiracy to discover unto me against the state, or some attempt upon the King's Person; he told me that he was in love.  
What Sir, said I, these retirements, these Melancholies, and this impenetrable secret, which all the world in vain seeks to find out: is it only that you are in Love? Ah, Leontydas, said he, mock not at my misery; for it is greater than you can imagine. But Sir, said I, I have much ado to imagine that you can be so unfortunate as you say, since I cannot conceive that there is e'er a Princess in the Kingdom (except ambitious Aretephile, who will be Queen) who will not favourably entertain your affection, when you shall make it known unto her. Alas! said he, with a sigh, Love hath dealt much more cruelly with me than you are ware of; and since I must discover unto you the secret of my heart, know that I have met with an invincible resistance, in one who lives amongst these rocks, and dwells but in a cottage.  
Yes Leondidas, I have found a maid, or to say better, I have found virtue itself, wholly pure, and under the viseage of Venus Urania, which hath and doth yet resist me. A maid who is not touched with ambition; in whom beauty causeth no affectation nor pride; who hath simplicity and wit, gallantry and sincerity; and who in a sandy and desert place, which the Gods alone have pointed out unto me: speaks better than all the wittiest Ladies in the Court  
But when all this is done, she lives in a Cottage, her condition appears to be very mean, if I consider all that is about her; and when I consider only herself, or do but hear her speak, she appears to be upon a throne: Her Governors are virtuous, and discreet, but still Leontidas they live in a Cottage, and will not abandon it. At last said he with tears almost standing in his eyes, I am the most unfortunate of all men: I have a passion which I cannot overcome, and which I will not have known: I too much respect Policrite's worth (for so is she called of whom I speak) to have any sinful desire towards her, which though I should have, 'twould be to no purpose: I likewise am too great a lover of Glory, to resolve to marry a maid of this condition without much repugnancy,; Yet can I not live without her: my sufferings are such that I cannot express them, and seeing no remedy for my Malady; I bear it patiently without complaining of it, and void of all hope but death.  
Phyloxypes told me this in so feeling a manner, as I much pitied him: He than told me all that had befallen him: How 'twas he met Policrite, how he was surprised that it was she by whom Mandrocles had drawn the Picture of Venus Urania, and all the rest which I have told you. I was somewhat surprised at this fantastic passion, chiefly when I called to mind Philoxypes former inflexibleness; Yet did I endeavour to comfort him. Sir, said I, such a beauty as that is which you represent unto me, and such a one as I have seen in the Venus in your Gallery, bears some excuse with it, of what condition soever the possessors are, especially when it occasions only some passing passions, and which are of no long durance, as I will hope yours will prove. No, no, said he Leontydas, do not deceive yourselves; I will love Polycrite till death. But Sir, not to abuse your patience, perceiving Philoxypes grievance too great to be cured I smoothed it, and sweetened it as much as possible I could. He then led me into his gallery, to show me his excuse, though I had seen his pictures many times before: we afterwards walked abroad, but he being able only to walk one way, we were soon amongst the Rocks, in a place from whence we might discover Policryte's habitation, which we no sooner saw, but blushing with confusion, he said 'tis there my dear Leontydas where she that I adore doth live; 'tis underneath that roof, which I prefer before the proudest Palaces, that Philoxypes finds some moments of content: and 'tis there in fine that all my joy and happiness is circumscribed. Sir said I, there needs no greater proofs of Polycrytes beauty, than the smallness of her Cottage; and whosoever shall imagine that Phyloxypes affection is placed therein, cannot doubt but that he hath argued the matter with himself as much as he was able.  
In fine, Sir, after that he had enlarged himself in expressing Policrytes charming beauty, not suffering me to see her for fear of offending her: I must think of returning to Paphos, for I had promised the King to return that very night. I asked Phyloxypes what I should say unto him; any thing said he my dear Leontydas rather than the truth of my adventure: For in the mind that I am of, I think that I should run mad if the King should know it.  
I than left him after he had made me swear a hundred times, not to discover the least part of his misfortune. I went to find out the King, who expected me with much impatiency, and who had purposely withdrawn himself early, to the end that I might speak with more freedom to him when I should return.  
And How, Leontydas, said he? what doth our solitary companion do?  
Sir said I, terming him as you do, your Majesty may easily guests at what he does. He muses, he walks, he reads; looks upon his pictures, and statues; goes from one place to another, and seeking ease every where, he finds it not where.  
But Leontydas, said he, you speak to me as Philoxypes doth, and 'tis not that which I expect from you.  
Sir, said I, I have done all I am able to satisfy your Majesty; but I confess my journey hath not been so successful as I hoped for: For all that Philoxypes says, is only that he finds himself somewhat ill disposed, and that he is possessed with a Melancholy which he cannot master.  
Did you ask him said the King, whether it were not that he did wish for somewhat which I have not be thought myself to give him, because I knew not that he did desire it?  
Oh, Sir, said I, (thinking I had done well) it is not ambition that torments Philoxypes who is so satisfied with your Majesty's goodness, as he desires nothing more than what he hath.  
Have you then discovered, said he, that he hath any thing of private discontent against any one of this Court? For if it be so, I will make his interest mine, and will as severely revenge any injury done unto him, as if it had been done unto myself.  
Sir, said I, Philoxypes appears to be so well beloved of all the world, as 'tis hard to think any one should injure him. I know not then what to imagine, said the King; but if Philoxypes' Ambition be satisfied, and that it is not hatred nor revenge that doth trouble him, he must needs be in Love.  
Your Majesty, Sir, said I, doth too well know Philoxypes' inflexibleness, to suspect any such thing in him. No Leontydas, said he, Philoxypes past obduretie, is not a Reason strong enough to persuade me that he is obdurate still. I am almost confident that 'tis this passion which robs me of Philoxypes' company; For in fine he hath all the marks of one in love. His countenance is altered, he not having been sick; he is melancholy without any appearing cause: he doth little else but rave; he cannot stay long in a place; he conceals his melancholy from us; he cannot endure that one should take notice of it; he gives over thinking of his affairs; he visits none but by constraint, and unless it be the Princess Aretephile, whom he hath seen by my command, he hath not visited any one Lady since we were at Claria.  
Sir, said I, part of what you allege to prove that Philoxypes is in Love, me thinks makes for the contrary: For if he were in Love, he would certainly seek out the party beloved; we should never see him from her: instead of being melancholy, he would study to play the Gallant more, and would be the more sociable: and instead of seeking out solitariness, as he doth, me thinks he should rather add to the Court diversions: and that his chiefest employments should be music, Baal's, conversation, and going abroad.  
You say well, answered the King, for what concerns ordinary passions, or such Lovers as have been fortunate in their affections; but there are certain giddy headed passions out of the common road, which arising from a melancholy anguish, feed themselves therewithal, and shun whatsoever affords delight. But that which doth a little trouble me, is that I cannot imagine who 'tis that Philoxypes can love, & be hardly dealt withal by; for certainly there is never a Lady in all my Court, who would not glory in having won his heart: and moreover I have not observed that he hath applied himself to converse with any one in particular, yet doubtleslie Philoxypes is in Love.  
Sir, said I, be not so resolute in your assertion, till you have stronger proofs thereof, and till you may at least conjectture who it is he is in love withal. The King began then to number over all the Ladies of the Court, one by one, & found not any one of them that he was likely to be in Love withal.  
He then began to walk not saying one word: soon after I saw some colour come in his face, and presently, me thought, he was much disquieted.  
Leontydas, said he, you know more than you will tell me.  
Sir, said I, I have said nothing but truth unto your Majesty. For in fine Phyloxypes his Ambition is satisfied; he hath no enemies that I know of; and if I be not deceived, the fairest Ladies of the Court have no great power over him.  
Ah! Leontydas, said he, you conceal the truth from me; but I know it without your telling. Yes, Leontydas, said he, Philoxypes doth Love, and so love, as doubtleslie he is much afflicted thereat, and which he will withstand and overcome: were not my thought true, he would not make his passion so great a secret. But good Gods, said he, how unfortunate am I? and to what strange extremity am I reduced; for in fine, Leontydas, said he, confess the truth, Phyloxypes, maugre himself, is become my rival, and his grief for it is the cause of his melancholy.  
Ah! Sir, said I, (not having leisure to think of what I said) I know not the cause of Philoxypes his melancholy; but I very well know he is not in Love with Princess Aretephile, and that he too much respects your Majesty to suffer such a thought enter his breast.  
Think well Leontydas, said he, on what you say: you assure me you know not the cause of Phyloxypes his melancholy, and yet you know he is not my rival: once more Leontydas, if you know the business, let me know it: or if you know it not; confess my suspicions are well grounded, and fear not for all this, that I wish any harm to Phyloxypes: on the contrary I shall be beholden to him for it.  
I was extremely troubled to hear the King talk thus; for without violating what we hold most sacred, I could not reveal Philoxypes his secret, which he had made me swear above a hundred times not to do.  
To consent likewise that the King should suspect him to be his Rival, me thought it was a business of too great importance to leave him in that opinion; but the more I persuaded him to the contrary, the more firmly did he believe it. No, said he, I am cause of mine own misfortune, and of Phylxoipes his misfortune too: 'tis I who made him visit Aretephile more than any other; 'tis mine own hand that hath enthralled him, and 'tis I who am the cause of all his sufferings: For said he, I easily comprehend he seeks out all this solitariness only to rid him of this passion: nay, I have observed that of late he hath been troubled as oft as I have spoken to him to speak to Aretephile, that he hath shunned such Commissions as much as he could; and I am too much persuaded that he hath argued the business stiffly with himself, and I am the only cause of what he suffers.  
Good gods, said he, how great is my misfortune? there is not any one man in all my Kingdom, whom I should not hate if he were my rival, unless it be he; and there is not any Lady in the Court, in whose Love he would not have been happy, except Aretaphile.  
But Sir, said I again, I protest unto you he is not in love with her; and I protest to you, replied he, expressing an extreme grief, that Philoxypes is my Rival; for were it not so, he would not conceal his passion from me.  
The respect he bears to you, said I, aught to hinder him from so doing, if he were in Love.  
No, no, replied he, you shall no longer abuse me; and I am equally persuaded of Philoxypes his love, of his innocence, and of my misfortune. For in fine, that the man in the world that I love best, should fall in Love with the oneliest Lady that I can Love: and that I should see myself cruelly necessitated, either to forsake Aretaphile, or to see Philoxypes die, it is an unsufferable adventure.  
Sir, I beseech you, said I, expect till she hath once more seen Phyloxypes, and have absolutely commanded him to discover his heart unto her, before you resolve on any thing; and if you please I will bring him hither to morrow morning.  
No, no, replied the King, you shall not stir out of the Palace this day; nor shall you see Phyloxypes before me. In effect this Prince gave one of his servants charge over me; and commanded me to withdraw into a Chamber, which was appointed for me in the Palace.  
'Twould be too difficult a thing to represent unto you my vexation, and the Kings disquiet: since to tell you true, he had as much friendship for Philoxypes, as Love for Aretaphile.  
Who ever saw, said he, (for he himself told it afterwards) an adventure like to mine? I have a Rival whom I must love in despite of me, and who gives me more occasion to love him, for the affection he bears to my Mistress, then for all the service he ever did me; and then for all the good Offices he hath done me to her, it being certain that I need only look upon him, to see what he suffers in my consideration; and that I need only consider what life he leads, to see how much I am beholden to him. I observe in his eyes a melancholy, which makes me apprehend his death: and I seein all his actions, visible signs of his love to Aretaphile, and of his respect to me. What shall I do, said he? shall I seem not to know this passion, and let Philoxypes die? But 'tis no longer time to conceal what I think, since Leontidas knows it. Leontidas who is so much his confident, and shares so deeply in his friendship: shall I also tell Philoxypes that I know his love, and not complain of him? and if I should complain, how weak a succour would this be? I should peradventure hasten his hour of death, by making him despair. But shall I quit Aretaphile, and let my friendship exceed my Love? Philoxypes his passion is unjust; but passions are not voluntary, and he hath done what ever he could, or aught to have done, since not being able to keep from loving, he hath yet kept from making his love known; and hath rather chosen to hazard his life by his respectful silence, then to preserve it by making his passion known, which he knows will displease me.  
The King past the night in this manner very unquietly: sometimes he was agitated with anger, and hatred, not knowing whom he hated, or on whom he desired to be revenged: sometimes he did a little blame Philoxypes, for not having at the very first acquainted him with his passion: sometime he betook himself to Aretaphiles beauty; but at last he blamed himself.  
Then suddenly considering the pitiful condition into which Phyloxypes was brought, and what an unhappy life he led, his heart was so touched with compassion as he did almost love his pretended Rival, better than his Mistress. He then called to mind, how that all the favours he had received from her, had been husbanded, and obtained by Phyloxipes his means. He passed the next morning in like perplexity, and strange irresolutions; at last having dined somewhat early, he went well accompanied to lie that night at Claria, not affording me any opportunity to give any notice thereof to Philoxypes; for he into whose custody I was given, thinking it had been for some business of another nature, treated me as a prisoner of the State and would not give me the least liberty.  
The king commanded me to follow him, so as I came with him to Claria, he not having spoken one word all the way long, but musing still on his adventure: But when we were come thither, Phyloxipes' people told the King, that their Master was not at home; and that according to his custom, he was walked out all alone. The King informed himself carefully of one of his servants, who had a long time waited on him, whether he knew not the cause of his Masters melancholy: this servant who loved his Master dearly, that he might make use of the honour the King did him in speaking to him, said;  
Sir, I know not what my master ails, but this I know, that if your Majesty out of your goodness find not some means to cure him of the Melancholy which possesseth him, he will certainly not live long; For he eats little, hardly sleeps at all, does nothing but sigh, cannot endure that one should speak to him about business, wanders whole days in the fields; and I once heard him cry out, when he little thought I did so. Good gods, what would the King say, if he saw how great my sadness is! and how hardly would he guests at the cause of my death?  
In fine Sir, said this man, with tears almost in his eyes, I know not what to say, but I am very certain your Majesty will lose the faithfullest of all your servants, if you lose the Prince my Master.  
Whilst this man spoke thus, I was strangely in pain; for I saw all that he said tended to confirm the King in his Opinion: I was much the better for beckoning unto him, he never looked on me, so intent was he to what he said.  
The King on his part sighed, and having left the other, well, Leontidas, you will not have it that Philoxypes is in Love, nor that it is Aretaphile whom he loves? Sir, said I, I confess I am still of that belief, and I would your Majesty could resolve to be so too.  
O, Unfortunate Philoxypes cried the King! (not answering me) how sad is this distemper? and how unfortunat am I myself, that I cannot absolutely cure thee of the Malady that possesseth thee. I would then have gone to find out Phyloxypes, that I might acquaint him with the King's sense before he saw him, but the King would not suffer me: but making the way be shown unto him, which Philoxypes most usually went, we went directly towards the head of Claria.  
Philoxypes was this mean while gone to Cleanthes his house, where the face of affairs was a little altered; for Policrita-knowing that her condition was not what she believed it to be, Philoxypes his desert had made a further advancement in her heart then formerly: neither could she so well hid her affection, but that Cleanthes and Megisto were much to their grief ware thereof.  
Yet was Philopyxes ne'er a whit the more happy: for Policrite having ta'en a Fancy to make trial of his affection by an appearing indifferency, did very carefully conceal from him, the affection she had for him.  
And in truth that very day that the King came to Claria, where we missed of Phyloxypes, she had caused as much trouble in him, as admiration. For being gone to her, and having found her at the root of a a tree, where she was designing out a corner of the country which pleased her, he began to entertain her with his passion, and to tell her how it grew still more violent upon him.  
Sir, said she, if I may be permitted to do so, I should tell you, That if you desire to win my good esteem, you should do better to tell me, that your passion grows every day more moderate: for to tell you the truth, I do somewhat apprehend these extravagant passions, which I have heard spoken of, and which they say, does disorder reason, makes men lose the respect they owe to virtue, though it inhabit in a Cottage, and which occasion a hundred strange things, the very hearing whereof causeth horror; Therefore, Sir, if you would oblige me, you will satisfy yourself with telling me, you have affection enough for me, to wish if it were possible that Fortune had been more propitious to me, that I had been born of a higher condition than I am, or at least this not being so, I might rest content with my own condition, without envying others.  
To love you with indifferency, said Philoxypes, (who acquainted me afterwards with this their conversation) your beauty should be indifferent, your virtue and discretion should be so also: in fine that inexpressable Charm, which I find in every of your words, looks, and actions, ought not to inchant me as it doth: But divine Policrite, apprehend nothing from the violence of my passion; for the stronger it is, the fuller of respect shall I be, and the more obedient to your will.  
Sir, said She, if what you say be true, speak no more thereof I beseech you; for not comprehending that I may lawfully give you any part of my affection, me thinks I ought entreat you to entertain me no longer with yours.  
But Divine Policrita, said he, for whom do you reserve that Glorious affection, which you cruelly affirm I shall never enjoy?  
At these words she blushed, and modestly bowing down her eyes, I reserve it said she, for our woods, fields, rocks, and fountains, whereof Sir, said she, smilingly, I think you will not be jealous.  
I shall not be jealous of them said he, but I shall envy them, and I shall not easily endure that you should love things to my prejudice, which cannot love you again. But cruel maid, will you say nothing to me of more obliging? and foregoing the Court as I do for love of you, and renouncing what ever is in the world, except it be Policrite; is it possible you should not deal with me a little less severely? I do not desire you to love me, say only that you are not sorry that I love you; and add if you please, that if I be not beloved, 'tis because you neither do nor will love any thing.  
For what's to come, said Policrite, 'tis a thing to which I ought not to answer with such assurance; and as you knew not the day before I had the honour to be known unto you, that you should so oft for go your Palaces to come to this Cottage wherein I live: how do I know whether the resolution which I now take of suffering no affection to enter my heart, will still continue? No, Sir, we must not trust so absolutely in ourselves; nor can I answer otherwise then for my present opinions.  
Show me then, replied he, what they really are; to the end I may know what to do.  
Sir▪ said Policrite, having much esteem, and much of respect for you, I must confess I should be sorry that you should love one long, whose condition were not answerable to yours, and that I could not receive a much greater displeasure.  
Philoxypes, who knew not the hidden sense of these words, answered, That supreme beauty had in it, somewhat of Celestial, which did ennoble all those that were therewithal endued.  
In my opinion said she, a certain proportion is requisite in all things to occasion love, therefore do not deceive yourself; and if I were at any time to love any body, it should certainly be one of my own condition: nor should I ever resolve to marry any one that were not so.  
What Policrite! said Philoxypes, much afflicted, do you speak the truth?  
Yes; Sir, said she, and time will make you find it so.  
But Policrite, replied he, you remember not that you are a miracle, and that there are no men of your condition amidst these rocks, who deserve so much as to look upon you.  
I will then love nothing, Sir, said she, and so she risen up, for she saw Cleanthes and Megisto coming, who much troubled at this Prince his so frequent visits, especially, having observed what they thought they had done in Policrites behaviour, desired him not to give himself the trouble to come so often thither.  
Philoxypes, who was somewhat moved at those cruel words (as he understood them) which Policrite had uttered which made notwithstanding so much for him, could not with his accustomed moderation receive the discourse of Cleanthes and Megisto, but anger might easily be seen in his face, and grief in his eyes.  
Cleanthes, said he, since I come not hither to rob you of the treasure which the Gods have given you, withstand not the satisfaction which I find in admiring that virtue in Policrite which you have infused into her.  
Sir, said Cleanthes, though I very well know your worth, I cannot but fear lest Policrite who hath not yet lived long enough to know precisely what bounds to put to the respect she owes you, may be failing in something either to you, or to herself.  
No, no, said Philoxypes, somewhat roundly, you need not fear what you say, you may rather fear lest her severity and yours make me lose my reason. In fine this conversation, though full of respect to Policrite, was so passionate, as Cleanthes and Megisto were much troubled at it, and Policrites self was sufficiently disquieted thereat, and was sorry that she had spoken so despitefully to Philoxypes. But at last this Prince departed much discontented, and much in love: and as he returned back with intention to get on horse back where he had wont to leave his followers, he met the King who was lighted on foot, and on whom I had the honour to wait.  
You may imagine how much he was surprised at this sight. As soon as he saw the King, striving as much as he could to hid his Melancholy, he mended his pace, and having done his obeisance, Sir said he, your Majesty quits Paphos in a season wherein you are not much accustomed to seek out solitary walks.  
You have reason for what you say, said the King, but it seems less strange to me that I should come to seek for Philoxypes at Claria, then that I should find him amongst the Rocks. The day being fair enough, though in Winter, the King who could no longer stay from acquainting Philoxpesy with what he had in his heart, made a sign to the few atht waited not him to stand off, and commanded me to stay.  
There remained none then with him but Phyloxipes and myself; we all stood silent for a good while, and certainly had all of us much differing thoughts. The King seeing Philoxypes so altered, so melancholy, and so perplexed endeavoured to make his friendship out go his Love: Philoxypes would have found by the King's eyes and mind, what the King had to say to him, and why he had taken this journey, fearing by the signs which I made, lest he had discovered his passion.  
For my particular, I was ready to go wild, to think I could not advertise Philoxypes, nor durst not tell the King what I knew of his love, whom he took to be his Rival; but at last this long silence wherein every one of us said several things unto ourselves, was first broke by the King, who looking in a much obliging manner upon this Prince, embraced him, and said, be not offended that I know the secret of your soul, and that I am not ignorant of the passion which torments you. Philoxypes surprised to hear the King speak thus, looked with a blush upon me; and the King imagining (as it was true) that he thought I had betrayed him, looked upon me too: and to punish me (as he told me afterwards) for not having told him the truth, not giving me leave to speak, and not disabusing Philoxypes in what he had conceived of me: once more said he, my dear Phyloxypes, be not afflicted that I have discovered your love, and believe I esteem you never a whit the less.  
Sir, replied Philoxypes, me thinks if your Majesty did know the true cause of my affliction, you should be so good as to bewail me, and not to speak of it.  
No, Philoxypes, replied the King, my goodness shall extend itself much further than so, for you: I am come hither expressly to accompany you in your solitariness: for since I cannot make you happy, I must at least make myself unhappy with you.  
Sir, said Philoxypes, you altogether confound me; take no such resolution I beseech you, leave me to bear the punishment of my weakness alone, and believe me I shall infinitely praise your goodness, if you will suffer me to die in peace amidst these woods, and rocks.  
The King touched with extreme compassion, once more straight embraced Philoxypes, and looking upon him with a very sad look, I crave your pardon said he Philoxypes, if I cannot as yet absolutely yield Aretaphile to you: but I am come hither to endeavour to gain say for your sake the passion I have for her, as you have striven a long time for my sake to suppress the passion which she hath occasioned in you.  
Philoxypes surprised at the King's discourse, felt two contrary agitations at the same time: he was grieved to find his odd opinion, and joyed that he knew not the true cause of his love, as he thought he had done. And believing that he might easily disabuse him in a thing so false as the former was, he resolved to continue the concealment of his true passion.  
The King then had no sooner said what I have told you, but Philoxypes stepping back a little, said, what Sir! does your Majesty suspect me of so much boldness as to be your Rival? Confess, said the King, for I know your misfortune hath been such, as not to be able to resist Aretaphiles charms. But Phyloxipes, I blame you not for it; 'twas I that first made trial thereof; I know how inevitable they are; you have done more than I myself should have done: it may be had I your part to play, I should have betrayed my master, instead of resolving to die of grief and sorrow, as you have done for my sake. Thus Phyloxypes, I am not displeased with you for loving Aretaphile.  
Sir, said Phyloxypes, to witness unto you that I am not in love with her, I promise you never to see her more, nor yet ever to come within Paphos, or at least never to speak to that Princess.  
I very well know said the King, your Generosity rather leads you to resolve on death, rather than to be failing in your duty. But Philoxypes, to the end you may not object unto me, That I have done nothing to vanquish myself, I am come to stay at Claria, as well as you, that I may endeavour to cure myself of this passion, and to yield up Aretaphile to you. You on your side shall do the like, and he that is first cured, shall surrender his part in her to the other.  
But my dear Phyloxypes, said he, you are yet more unhappy than you think for, for when I should cease to love Aretaphile, you would not have won her heart: you know how ambitious she is, that her soul is only sensible of greatness: and when I should have yielded up my mistress to you, unless I should also yield my Crown unto you, you would not win much upon her inclination.  
But in fine said he (not affording Philoxypes leisure to answer him) if I yield up Aretaphile to you, it will not be hard for me to yield you up my Crown. And in a word, I will not be upbraided with your death.  
I will do what I can to cure myself, to the end that you may cure yourself; and if we can neither of us cure ourselves, we will at least die together.  
Sir, said Philoxypes, I vow by whatsoever I hold most sacred, and most holy, that I have not the least pretence to the Princess Aretaphile.  
What then said the King, who did not believe him, is the cause of your retreat and Melancholy? I confess Sir, I was a hundred, and a hundred times ready to break my word which I had passed to Philoxypes; but seeing the trouble he was in, end that in fine he could not resolve to all the King the truth, I with held whilst Phyloxypes answered, That what his Majesty did command, did not deserve his curiosity, and that he could not tell it him.  
Being by this time late, we returned to Claria, where the King spoke still after the same manner to Philoxypes, as Philoxypes did also to him. Having found a moment of time to entertain Philoxypes alone, I would have persuaded him to have acquainted the King with the truth; but he could never resolve to do so, saying it would be sufficient to let him see he was not in love with Aretaphile, if he should never see her more.  
This mean while, the more obstinacy, and grief the King found in Philoxypes, the more did he compassionate him, and the more he laboured to overcome his own passion.  
And to this purpose he stayed eight days at Claria, all which time Philoxypes ready to go mad, as well in consideration of the King's opinion, and more for that he could not get to see Polycryte.  
I do not think the King would so soon have left this retiredness, had he not been advertised that an Ambassador from Amasis' King of Egypt, was come to Paphos, which forced him to return. But Philoxypes, do he what he could, must needs go along with him: No said the King, I will not see Aretaphile, without seeing you at the same time. The Melancholy which I shall see in your eyes, must be to me an antidote against the Charms which I shall see in hers.  
We went then to Paphos, but good gods how little delightful was the Court then, and how much troubled did the Ambassador find the King, who was three days without seeing Aretaphile, and Philoxypes being in unimaginable pain for the abovesaid reasons, seemed to grow still more melancholy, whereat the King was still more and more afflicted.  
Ambitious Aretaphile was this mean while not without her perplexity, as well by reason of the King's journey to Claria, as that he came not to visit her; and for that she heard he was returned wonderfully sad.  
But at last the King desirous still to confirm himself in his belief, brought Philoxypes with him to Princess Aretaphile, hoping to discover his passion better there, then in any other place.  
Philoxypes, who thought there was no better means to undeceive the King, then in letting him see that he took no pleasure in looking upon this Princess, was still careful to look another way; but that which he did to dis-deceive the King, did the more deceive him: for said he to himself, unfortunate Philoxypes cannot endure the sight of her whom he loves, and whom he will not love.  
He accused himself then of too much inhumanity, in exposing him to so great a punishment, and seeing how strangely perplexed he was, his visit was not long.  
This mean while, he having during this visit eyed his pretended Rival, as much as his mistress, and having been much disquiet, the Princess was not much satisfied with his conversation, and knew not whereunto to attribute the cause of the change which she saw in him.  
At his coming forth he said a thousand obliging things to Philoxypes, and Philoxypes made as many protestations to him of his being unconcerned in Aretaphile. But at last, that I may shorten my discourse as much as I may; Philoxypes being persecuted by the King's conceit, angered at Cleanthes discourse, much afflicted at what Policryte had said, and much more that he could see her no more, and that he durst not return to Claria, fell dangerously sick, all the Physicians gave up their opinions, that unless some cure were found for his Melancholy, he would infaliblie die. The fever continued seven days upon him very violently, during which time the King was greatly disconsolate; and during which time I had ta'en a little journey to Amathuse, about some business that I had there, for I think if I had been at Paphos, I should have had much ado to have kept Philoxypes his secret from the King.  
As oft as the King came into his chamber, and saw him in that pitiful condition, he resolved to think no longer on Aretaphile, but as soon as he came from him, or that Philoxypes grew any thing better, this resolution slackened a little.  
Nor was he yet resolved what to do, but the favour having at last left Philoxypes, and the Physicians continuing still to affirm that he would infallibly die, if the cause of his Melancholy whence his malady proceeded were not taken away: the King seemed to have put on a very strong resolution to pluck from out his soul the passion which possessed him.  
He then resolved to visit Aretaphile no more, who not knowing what to think of this change in the King, thought it might be he was offended that she had not all this while been to see Philoxypes, whom he so dearly loved, especially since almost all the Ladies of the Court had been to visit him. For during his sickness, the Princess of Salamis, and Princess Agarista had never left him, so as the Ladies might with decency enough go thither.  
Yet so it happened, that the day that Aretaphile came thither, Philoxypes being much better than he was, they were gone forth, so as Aretaphile going accompanied with four or five of her women, found him all alone. 'tis true she was not there long without company, for the King came thither presently after. Philoxypes blushed when he saw him come in, and seemed so amazed at this encounter, as if he had been really in love with Aretaphile; the King who observed this his change of countenance, being much concerned to see that he should be the cause of Philoxypes danger: after a great strife within himself, drew near to Princess Aretaphile, who out of her respect would have given him her place, which he would not accept of: and after having looked upon her a while without speaking, he sighed, and said, Madam, will you not cure Philoxypes?  
Sir, said she, if his health depend on me, your Majesty should soon be eased of the grief his sickness causeth in you.  
Philoxypes, who found a great alteration in the King's countenance, was afeard lest he might say somewhat which might have made Aretaphile know his opinion of him; wherefore not affording the King leisure to reply,  
Sir, said he, though I believe Princess Aretaphile be able to do great things, and to charm great pains, yet I think I may say without offending her, that those evils which I lie under, depend not on hers will; & that none but the Gods them self can withdraw me from the grave. Philoxypes pronounced these words in so sad a manner, as endeavouring to overcome whatsoever opposed his design of saving Phyloxypes: drawing yet a little nearer to the Princess Aretaphile, for fear lest they that were in the chamber might over hear him.  
Madam, said he, (making a sign to Phyloxypes that he would not be interrupted) I shall tell you a thing which will much surprise you. I conjure you notwithstanding to give it a favourable interpretation; and to oblige me so far as to believe that upon better terms than the saving of Philoxypes life, I would not tell it you, no not though mine own life were concerned therein.  
Oh! Sir, cried out this sick Prince, if your Majesty end what you have begun to say, you will hasten my death instead of retarding it.  
Princess Aretaphile, amazed to hear what she heard, and not able to guests what the matter should be, looked sometimes upon the King, sometimes upon Philoxypes; but at last the king completing his determination, 'tis you, Madam, said he, to the Princess Aretaphile, who send Philoxypes to his grave; your charms have been more powerful than his reason, though his nobleness hath been yet greater than his love. He loves you divine Aretaphile, not daring to tell you so; He will not so much as acknowledge it, yet I know for certain, that unless you take compassion on him, he will infallibly die.  
I therefore speak no more to you in my own behalf, said he, in a strange Melancholy manner, but deal less rigorously with him, than you have done with me, since he deserves it better: and if your Ambition be not to be satisfied without a Sovereign power, I promise you divine Princess, that if I cannot place Philoxypes upon the Throne, he shall always be so near it, as his place shall hardly be discernible from mine.  
In fine said he, if Philoxypes die, I shall die, and so I shall for ever lose you: but if you save Philoxypes, I may at least hope to languish on a while, and to share part of your esteem, not being able to pretend any longer to any part of your affection. Nor think not said he, That this which I do, is any mark of weakness in my affection, since on the contrary it denotes the violence thereof.  
For in fine, if I could resolve to abandon you, and to follow Philoxypes to the grave, I would not yield up to him the part I pretend to have in your affection, though he be more worthy thereof then I; but not being able to see him die for my sake, without expiring with grief, I must live, that he may live, and consequently must endeavour for a while to prolong the satisfaction I take in seeing you.  
Aretaphile was so astonished to hear the King speak after this manner, and Philoxypes so afflicted, as astonishment and sorrow producing the same effect in these two personages, they stayed a good while without speaking.  
Aretaphile had opinion good enough of her beauty, to suffer herself easily to be persuaded that Philoxypes was in love with her, and she had likewise opinion good enough of his Generosity, to believ he durst not discover his passion.  
But as nothing that was not King could touch her heart, she was strangely perplexed to hear what she heard, and sometimes she thought 'twas peradventure but a pretext sought by the King to break with her.  
Philoxipeses on his side thinking that at the last he must be fain to tell the King the truth, that he might disabuse him, was so strangely confused, as he could not open his mouth: so as the King seeing them both so surprised, and finding that peradventure his love might quickly make him unsay all that his friendship had made him affirm, risen up, and without expecting what Aretaphile would answer. Madam, said he, the pitiful condition which you see Philoxypes is in, persuades you better than I can do, and he doubtlessly will pardon me, if I speak not so long to you for him as I have formerly done to you for myself: which said, he went his way, though Philoxypes desired him to tarry; assuring him that he would wholly disabuse him.  
This mean while, though Aretaphile had a great mind to be gone too, yet being imbitterd in mind, and desirous to know a little more precisely, what the business of this so strange adventure would prove, she stayed a little after the King, and looking upon Philoxypes, who appeared to her to be so struck mute, as if he had been in love with her: is it you Philoxypes, said she, that have lost your reason, or is it the King? for I confess unto you I know not whether of the two it is, and that I cannot comprehend either of you.  
I confess Madam, said Phyloxipes, that I am not master of my reason, but Madam, 'tis a malady which you are no ways cause of, and whereof I accuse you not: had you any design than said she, to make me lose the King's good opinion? or is it that the King seeks some bad pretext to bereave me of it? But if it be so Philoxypes, there needs not so far a fetch about the bush. You need but give me reason of the least suspicion, and I assure you I shall not long lament the loss of so divided a heart as his is. For till now the King did always love his Crown better than Princess Aretaphile, and by his this day's discourse, he will make me believe that he loves you better than me.  
Madam, said Philoxypes, I beg it as a favour from you, not to blame the King upon so small reason; and not to blame in him the compassion he is pleased to have of an evil, which he believes you to be the cause of.  
engage myself Madam, to free him from the error of his opinion; for though your charms be without compare, the respect which I have always born to you, and that which I shall always bear to the King, have assuredly warranted me from almost an inevitable danger, for those who have not had so powerful reasons to withstand your beauty: therefore Madam, do not disquiet yourself, and do me the honour as to promise me to pardon the King's injustice, in desiring that I should share with you in a heart where you ought only to reign.  
But Madam, the King had given me the place which I now enjoy, before he loved you; you ought not therefore be troubled thereat.  
No, no, replied ambitious Aretephile, you will not easily be able to justify the King: he is Generous, I confess, but he is but a bad lover, and whosoever can yield up his interest in the party beloved, his love is certainly very indifferent.  
This being said she bid him farewell, and left Philoxypes, so much grieved, as his malady increased. Fearing then lest he might die, and leave the King in the opinion he was in, he sent to desire him that he might speak with him; and this was just as I returned from Amethusa. I happened to be by the King when he received this message, who instantly went to Philoxypes, but with so much discontent, as I pitied him: he had repent himself more than once of what he had said to Aretaphile, and not knowing whether she might not have said somewhat of obliging to Philoxypes after he had left them together, he returned unto him much disquieted.  
When we came thither, he enquired whether the Princess Aretaphile had tarried there long after him or not, and being told not, he entered into Philoxypes chamber, who was glad to see me with the King.  
Sir, said he, I see it is time that I confess my weakness to you, and that I disabuse you.  
The King, who could not reconcile these two things, answered him only with a sigh, and being set down by his bed side, Philoxypes asked him pardon for the trouble he had put his Majesty to, and desired me to acquaint the King with what I knew of his adventure; desiring him not to be offended that I had not told his Majesty the truth, since unless I should have drawn down the anger of Heaven upon me for perjury, I could not have revealed his secret, after the Oaths that he had made me take to the contrary I then began to acquaint the King with all that I knew touching Philoxypes love: but all I could say to him, appeared to be so incredible, as it was a long time before he could believe it. At last he told Philoxypes, that unless he should let him see Policrite, he would not believe what he had heard.  
Philoxypes perceiving the King's obstinacy, told him, that though he was very ill, he would be carried to Claria, in case he were any thing better the next morning, imagining he should sooner recover his health being near Policrite, then if he should stay at Paphos.  
All this while the King did not believe what I had told him; sometime a man might see some sign of rejoicing in him: ha'! my dear Philoxypes, would he say, is it possible that you were not my Rival, and that I was deceived: if it be so, I think I shall adore that Policrite you speak of, instead of blaming the love you bear her; since thereby I shall not be enforced to yield up what I hold dearer than my life, and that my confident will not prove my rival.  
But observe sir, the extraordinary effects of love. Philoxypes was very sick when he sent to desire the King to come unto him: but when once he had any thought of returning to Claria, he grew better: he slept all the next night quietly enough, and the next day was carried in a Litter to Claria, whither the King went to lie that night.  
The next day Philoxipeses left his bed, and the following day, notwithstanding all his weakness, he got on horseback together with the King, waited on but by very few: and came to the foot of the mountains where they were to light. Being there, the King followed by none but Philoxypes and myself, went towards Cleanthe's Cottage, which as soon as we discovered, Philoxypes, who had need enough howsoever to rest, stayed a while, and showing it to the King, Sir, said he, strangely confused, see the place which made me forgo Paphos: see the inch of all the earth, that likes me best, and where you go to see one, who peradventure will rather make you Philoxypes his Rival, than Philoxipeses shall prove yours.  
He spoke this with a smile, by which it visibly appeared, that the hope of reseeing Policrite had brought joy into his heart: yet did he fear displeasing her, and to anger Cleanthes, by bringing the King thither: but there being no remedy, he resolved to do it, neither did this fear justle out his joy.  
When the King had sufficiently considered the greatness of Philoxypes his affection, in respect of the meanness of Policrites Cottage; and that he had notwithstanding acknowledged that there was somewhat of wild in that desert, which was not displeasing: we went on, and came at last to that little Palisadoe of of Laurels, wherewith Cleanthes his Court was enclosed. We entered thereinto, and Philoxypes stepping before the king, went to the house, where he found the door shut: he knocked, but no body answered, which made him at first believe, that Cleanthes his whole family was gone to the Temple, where he once saw Policrite.  
Yet since there might be some body there who might not hear, he knocked again, and knocked so hard, that a young slave who served Cleanthes, came and opened the door, who very well knowing Philoxypes, told him, after that Philoxypes had asked him where his master was, that he could not tell him what he desired to know; and that all that he knew was, that Cleanthes, Megisto, Polycrite, and Dorida, were gone from thence, and were not to return thither any more: that they had carried along with them the women, which they had brought from their own Country; and that his Master had commanded him to wait his further directions there, not knowing wherefore he was gone, nor why he left him there.  
Philoxypes, surprised and afflicted at this Discourse, was a good while without speaking; The King thought at first that there was some trick in it, and that Philoxypes had made me say what I had said, only to abuse him; but at last this young Slave being stepped into the House, and returning presently; Sir, said he to Philoxypes, when Policrite was ready to departed from hence, she drew me aside, unseen by any one, and gave me this which I give to you, ordaining me so to do if you should come hither. Philoxypes taking immediately what the Slave presented him with, opened the Letter, whilst the King did me the honour to speak with me, and read these ensuing words:  
Policrite to Philoxypes.  
I Know not Sir, whither it is that Policrite is conveyed, but I very well know that Philoxypes is the cause of her exile: not being peradventure, likely ever to have the Honour to see him. I thought I might without blame, let him know my mind by this Letter, which I refused to acquaint him withal, the last time which I spoke with him. He may then be pleased to know, that at first not esteeming myself worthy of his affection, by reason of my birth, I withheld mine from him as much as I was able; but that having learned since, that I am not of the condition I appeared to be, and that there have been Kings of my Race: I confess I was gladded that I could not reproach Philoxipeses for having an inclination too disproportionable for his degree: and that I thought it became me to let him know what I am, to the end he may not think he doth any thing unworthy of himself, if he sometimes think upon Policrite, who will always with much contentment think upon his worth, whether his fortune be to lead his life in a Cottage or in a Palace.  
POLYCRITE.  
PHILOXYPES, as soon as he had read this Letter, came to the King, and presenting it unto him; Sir, said he, your Majesty may read in this Letter my innocency, and my misfortune. The King began then to read aloud what Policrite had written; but good God in what pain was the unfortunate Philoxypes that he could not interrupt him; but as soon as he had read it out, looking upon him with a fixed and grieved eye; how say you now? Sir, said he, am I yet in love with Princess Aretaphile, or am I not the most unfortunate man in the world? the King, embracing him, asked him pardon for his suspicions, and of the trouble he had given him; but my dear Philoxypes said he, I shall be sufficiently punished for it, as well in respect of your sorrow, which shall always be mine; as for Aretaphile, who will not easily forgive me, yet said he, you have wherein to rejoice, since you learn two things at once of great importance, and of great consolation. For now you know that Policrite loves you, and that she is of Princely descent: Can you have asked more of the Gods, if you had been to have had your wishes granted you?  
Ah! Sir, said Philoxypes, that which you allege to comfort me, is the greatest part of my misfortune: For 'tis true, I find that Policryte does not hate me, and that she is of birth equal with myself, but at the same time this lovely and cruel personage tells me, she shall never see me more, and that she knows not whither she is carried.  
Oh! Sir, I should be more to blame were I in love with Princess Aretaphile, but I should be less miserable: I should have reasons to gainsay my passion; but here I see nothing which doth not fortify and augment it.  
In fine after Phyloxypes had sufficiently bemoaned himself, he left the King, and went to ask a hundred things of the young slave, without being able to learn any thing, either of Policrites birth, nor whither Cleanthes & Megisto were gone; all he could learn was only that 'twas above a fortnight since they were gone: nothing else could be gotten out of this young Slave, neither by prayers, promises, nor threats, whose fidelity Philoxypes, for all his rage, could not choose but approve of: but not being able to learn any more, he waited back upon the King to Claria.  
For my part I was never more at my wit's end; for the king was so sad, as well for his own occasion, as for those of PHILOXIPESES, as he could not resolve to say any thing, neither by way of bemoaning himself, nor yet of comforting PHILOXIPESES, whom he so dearly loved.  
PHILOXYPES on his part was more perplexed: he was sorry to forgo that Cottage though his beloved was no longer there; he sometimes looked back upon it, sometimes he looked upon Policrites Letter, which the king had given him back.  
He would sometimes lift up his eyes to heaven, than again fix them on the earth, and walking sometimes without speaking, sometimes fetching deep sighs, he seemed not to know whether the king were there or no, or whether he were alone, so deep was his melancholy. At last we came to Glaria, but good Gods how sad was the conversation the rest of that day.  
At last said the king to Philoxypes, you have this advantage, to know that Policryte is much obliged to you, that she hath nothing to reproach you withal, that you have not offended her, and that wheresoever she is, if she think of you, 'tis only to bewail your absence: where on the contrary, I have incen'st Aretaohile, whose aspiring soul does doubtlessly accuse me of want of affection, and who will take it very ill, that I preferred your life before my love to her.  
But Sir, said the afflicted Philoxypes, you know where the Princess Aratephile is, you may make your reasons known to her, you may ask her pardon for that fault, which an excess of Generosity made you commit: you may sit and sigh by her, and may appease her anger. But for my part Sir, should I complain, should I sigh, should I pour forth torrents of tears amidst these Rocks, would all this restore to me my Policryte? should I thereby learn where she lives? It may be Cleanthes is put to sea, and it may be I shall never know, neither who Policryte is, nor where she is.  
Ah! Sir, said this disconsolate Prince, if you knew the cruelty of my adventure, you would easily know that I am the most unfortunate man in the world: for if I loved one that did hate me, despite might cure me: if I loved one that were inconstant, the scorn I should have of her weakness, might consolate me: if I were jealous, a part of my melancholy would pass away in seeking how I might prejudice my Rivals: were Policrytes absence bounded, the hope of her return, how long so  it were, would allay my discontents Nay, were any person whom I should love, dead, I think my sufferings would not be so great as they are. For in fine, my malady is such, as doth stupefy reason, and makes the soul almost insensible.  
In this manner did the king and PHILOXYPES entertain themselves. I endeavoured to comfort them both, but to tell you truth, my reasons were not listened unto; as for Philoxypes, he knew not what remedy to seek for; for having learned by the slave who gave him Policrite's letter, that 'twas a good while since she went away, he could not dream of following her, nor knew he where to seek after her.  
All he could do, was to give order to his people to watch night and day about the Cottage, with directions to stay any who should come thither, that they might learn by them what this too faithful Slave would not discover; and to follow him whersoever he should go, believing probably that Cleanthes had not left him alone in that house, without some secret reason, and without having a design to return; or at least to send somebody thither on his behalf, or that the Slave himself should return to him.  
As for the King it fared not thus with him: he knew that it was at Aretephiles feet that he was to seek for pardon: he would not, notwithstanding make his dear Philoxypes return so soon to Paphos, but stayed the next day at Claria.  
But though there was no hope of finding Policrite, Philoxypes desired the King that he would be pleased to send to all the ports of the Island, to know whether Cleanthes had ta'en shipping in any of them or no, it being easy to be known, by reason of the many women that were in his company, which would make him remarkable. The King promised him to do what he desired, but conjured him also not to refuse to go with him to Paphos, to assist him in getting Aretaphiles pardon. Philoxypes appeared visibly displeased to be forced to return to the Court, but being so much obliged to the King, and the king being upon ill terms with his Mistress, only out of his Love to him, he thought it became him to go, as he did. When we were come to Paphos, the King went that very night to Princess Aretaphiles lodgings, and found her only accompanied with her women. She received him with all the civility that was due to his condition, but also with as much coolness as could be expected from an incensed party.  
Seeing Philoxypes with the king, Sir, said she, with a malicious smile, did not I tell you Philoxypes would recover without my meddling with him. Madam, said he, Philoxypes is much worse than I believed him to be; but thanks to Heaven, I will not lay his death to your charge, since you are not the cause of his disquiet. May it please the Gods that you put not Philoxypes in a condition of reproaching you with my death!  
No, no, Sir, said she, your life is in no danger, as long as Philoxypes lives, your Majesty needs fear nothing. Alas Madam, cried the king, deal not so hardly with me! Alas, Sir, said she, go not about I beseech you to persuade me to things so directly opposite one to another, in so short a time; it is not above four or five days since you did me the honour to tell me at Philoxypes his lodging, that you would no more sue to me for yourself; that my affection was a thing wherein you did no longer desire a part; and if I remember well, you did also entreat me not to deal so rigorously with Philoxypes, as I had done with you. And it may be, said she, (expressing an extremity of Malice) that yielding much to your entreaties upon that occasion, I should have granted what you have demanded for Philoxypes, had my friendship been necessary to safe his life; but since God be thanked, he needs it not, he may be pleased to content himself with my esteem; and your Majesty may likewise be satisfied with my respect, which is all I can, or aught to give you. For in fine to make me believe that you love me, after being able to permit that another should love me, and you yourself wish me to love him, is a thing not easy to be understood, nor yet easily disjested: believe me, Sir, said she, to love one's rival, better then ones Mistress, is a thing whereof there are not many examples, and which may allow me to let those know, who shall be acquainted with the business, that 'tis an excellent way to make a faithful servant, & a very bad invention to make a Princess love him, who treats her after that manner. Shall the compassion I had of Philoxipeses, Madam, replied the king, destroy me for ever in your good opinion? me, I say, who underwent an unexpressable torment, before I could resolve to pity him? me, who did not yield you up, save only because I could not abandon you, and who found that PHILOXYPE'S death did hasten mine? If you could have loved Aretaphile, answered the princess, more than Philoxypes, you would have lamented his misfortune and yours; you would have endeavoured to have cured him by absence, or by a thousand otherways; you would have bewailed his death when it should have happened, and would yet have been comforted, by the sole sight of Aretaphile: but because you love PHILOXYPES better than you love Aretapile, you resolve without much difficulty to lose her. Yet Sir, you could yield up to PHILOXYPES no more than that part which you held in her, which was not peradventure so great as you believe.  
Ah! inhuman princess said the king, make me not despair, and know that when I made a surrender of you to Philoxypes, I was resolved to die. It may be Sir, said she, If I had so much weaknesss as to lend a favourable ear to what you now say, that upon the first occasion that should present itself,; and upon the first suspicion you should have that any one should bear me never so little good will, you would again conjure me to be his cure. No, no, Sir, said she, with a yet more serious face, you never loved me, nor do you know what it is to love: Love is somewhat above reason, or generosity, which hath reasons of its own: a man may give his own life for his friend, but as for the Mistress whom he loveth, it would be more just, and more usual, to quit all his friends for her interest, then to yield her up to any one friend. In fine said she, you may perchance have thought you could have lived without me; for had you dreamt you must have died, me thinks you might as well have died without yielding up Aretaphile to Philoxypes, as after having surrendered her to him. But Sir, since you have rather chosen to specify an extraordinary mark of Generosity, then to give the commonest proof of love, I have no more to say; neither have I more to do, but to preserve my heart as free as it hath always been. The king seeing he could not appease this haughty spirit, called Philoxypes in into his aid; come said he, come make amends for the fault which you have innocently committed; and if you will preserve my life, as I would have done yours, be a mean of replacing me in the condition wherein I was before I had compassion of you. Madam, said Philoxypes, addressing his speech to the Princess, if you judge of the King's love to you, by his Friendship to me, what may you not expect from thence; since to save my life, he could for some few moments only renounce the possession of so inestimable a jewel. And will you not then believe, That upon the least occasion which should present itself, he would for your service sacrifice, not only Philoxypes, but even all his subjects, nay, even his own life? No Sir, said she, you are not so much bound to the King, as you imagine, and instead of your desiring me to judge of his love to me, by the friendship he bears to you, I shall advise you to judge of his friendship to you, only by his love to me; and to believe, that since he was able to yield me up, he never had so resolute a passion for Aretaphile, as to deserve that Philoxypes should be much beholden to him, for what he hath done for him, since he would have done the like for any other. But cruel princess, said the King, what will you have me to do? me thinks said she, I should demand no unjust thing of you, if I should humbly entreat you to think no longer on Aretaphile, and quietly to enjoy the life of Philoxypes, which hath cost you so little.  
Ah, said he, if I should have purchased the life of Philoxipeses, at the loss of your affection, I should have bought it more dear, then if I should have given my Crown for it. Confess the truth, said this malicious Princess, if Philoxypes had been as sick of Ambition, as you did think him love sick, he would not for certain be yet cured, and you would not so soon have foregone your Sceptre, as you did Aretaphile. Phyloxipes, who easily conceived the hidden sense of these words, whereunto the King replied not, so was he over born with grief, said, Madam, if the King shall confess unto you that he hath done amiss, and shall ask your pardon for it, will you be more inexorable, then are the Gods, and will you show no mercy? when the King said she, shall have done to cure me of any malady of mind, if any such shall befall me, so extraordinary a thing, as that which he hath done for you, I shall then see of what mind I shall be. In fine, Sir, All that the King and Philoxypes could do or say, did no ways avail with this imperious Princess.  
When they were come from her, and were returned to the Palace; Philoxypes who was well acquainted with Aretaphiles humour, told the King, he knew a way how to work his reconcilement with her: Alas, said the King, there are few things I would not do to purchase that content: speak therefore, my dear Phyloxypes: must I be long in pain? must I sigh abundantly, and pour forth abundance of tears? and must I be everlastingly prostrate at her feet? No Sir, said he, you shall only put the Crown upon her head. But replied the King, I would gladly not have owed Aretephiles love to her Ambition; on the contrary, I would have had the Crown of Cyprus to have been a reward of her affection to me.  
Five or six days being thus passed over, and Philoxypes, not being able to tarry any longer at the Court, he desired leave of the King to return to CLARIA. Those who the King had sent to the Port towns which were nearest to Paphos, returned at the same time, but brought no news of Policrite; so as the unfortunate Philoxypes returned to his solitariness in great despair.  
He had yet engaged the King not to discover the cause of his melancholy; nor were there any that knew it, but he, the Princess Aretaphile, and myself; nor did the Princess know any more, than that Philoxypes was fallen in love wi … one that he knew not.  
It would be very hard to relate unto you what life he led; when it was fair weather, he went to visit Policrite's Cottage, and all the places where he had seen her, or spoken with her; he went to ask more questions of the slave who was there, and whom they had ever had an eye unto, not finding any one that spoke with him, nor that he spoke with any one. But all the addresses this Prince could make, could not prevail against the fidelity of this slave, who deserved a better condition.  
When Philoxypes could not walk abroad, he walked in his Gallery, gazing on the picture of his dear Policrite. When he called to mind how contented a life he led before he fell in love, he almost wished he had never seen Policrite; but when he remembered her charming beauty, her bewitching mind, and the happy hours which he had enjoied in her company, though she had always concealed the esteem she had for him; he preferred all the sorrows he had suffered since he was in love, before all his former pleasures.  
Oh! would he sometimes say to himself, when he should read Polycrite's letter; how sweet, how pleasing, and how cruel things have I learned in one day? Policrite is of illustrious birth, Policrite will always remember me, and Policrite will never more see me. Alas, if it be so, said he, why have I not recourse to death, and what shall I do with so unfortunate a life? Then suddenly remembering that Policrite was alive, and that she did not hate him, he conceived a beam of hope, that peradventure she might make enquiry after him, and knowing how miserable a life he led, she might at last resolve to let him know in what part she lived.  
This thought afforded him only so much hope as to keep him from dying; not so much as to comfort him in his misfortunes. Living then in this manner all the rest of the Winter, he went sometimes to see the King, when the King could not come to him; and despairing of all remedy, he only expected death, or news of Policrite: the one or the other, whereof were the object of all his thoughts, & the bounds of all his desires. The Spring itself, which seems to inspire joy into whole nature, wrought no alteration in him. He beheld the roses in his Gardens blush, with the same melancholy as he had seen his knots white with Snow in Winter. Those who watched over Cleanthes his slave, brought him word one morning, that he was suddenly dead. This anger some news did redouble his grief, in as much as for that he seemed concerned in any thing which belonged to Policrite; and that this slave appeared to him worthy of such good fortune, as that in losing him, he lost almost all hopes of ever discovering where Policrite was. He forbore not notwithstanding, to have watch kept for a while, to see whether any body should come to that rural Cottage, or no: but at last, weary of wearying out his people, he dispensed with their further trouble therein; and abandoned his fortune absolutely to the guidance of the gods.  
As he was one day in this sad mood, Solon came to Claria: he was at first much joied to hear a name he so dearly loved; but considering what an alteration there was in him, since he had seen him, and how confounded he should be to acknowledge his weakness to him, though he knew that lawful love was not a passion to which Solon had declared himself an enemy, this joy suffered a little allay. He went notwithstanding with much eagerness to meet him; but sadness having so deeply seized upon his heart and eyes, the satisfaction which he received to see the famous Solon, was so inward, as there hardly appeared any sign thereof in his countenance. Solon no sooner saw him, but he observed his melancholy; and Philoxypes on his part, looking on Solon, in stead of the peaceful physiognomy, and that cheerful and pleasing aspect which he had wont to have in his eyes, he seemed to see a great deal of sorrow.  
The first compliments being over, and Philoxypes having brought Solon to his chamber; Sir, said he, the sight of you would surely much rejoice me, did I not see some signs of sorrow in you, of which I must needs request to know the cause. Noble Prince, replied Solon, I should have prevented you, and have desired to know the cause of your melancholy, before having afforded you leisure to inform yourself of mine. But I confess unto you, the Lawgiver of Athens, is not at present in a condition of prescribing Laws unto himself; and that the sorrow I feel, is stronger than my reason. Philoxypes, embracing him then straight, conjured him to tell him the reason thereof, and desired him to believe he would do all that lay in his power to comfort him.  
But Sir, said he, I thought that Philosophy had been a salve to you against all the misfortunes of life; and that sorrow was a thing unknown to Solon, to whom whole Greece gives the name of wise.  
Philosophy said this famous Athenian, is a vainglorious art, which boasts of governing in places, wherein she hath no great power; she may doubtlessly said he, teach men to be virtuous, make them know whole nature, teach them how to discourse, and give them Laws and Precepts for the government of Kingdoms, and Commonwealths; Nay, she may oft times make us overcome our passions; but when an equitable feeling, which nature gives us, is to be overcome, believe me Philoxypes, the same Philosophy which hath sometimes made us lose Crowns without change of countenance, or which hath made us not stick to refuse them, is weak in less eminent occasions. And in my particular, I may say I have been thrice in my life time abandoned by her; though peradventure I have been assisted by her upon an hundred difficult occasions. But yet said Philoxypes, shall I not know what 'tis that afflicts you? It very well behoves that I tell it you, said Solon, since 'tis from you alone that I can expect any help. I will not repeat unto you, said he, the so many particulars of my fortune which formerly I have acquainted you withal, for I believe you have not forgot them; but that you may perfectly know the cause of my grief, I must howsoever take the rise of my discourse afar off; and tell you some circumstances of my life, which you have not yet known. You know I never believed that marriage was incompetible with Philosophy and true Wisdom, as Thales that famous Milesian did imagine; you know likewise that I married a personage of great worth and understanding, by whom I had children, who died soon after they were born; one only son excepted, whom I have bred up carefully, intending to make him worthy of that noble blood whence he is descended. He was about 14 or 15 years old, when I was at Milet, about some affairs of mine; where I visited wise Thales, who was one of my very good friends. He civility reproached me with my weakness, and said I did sufficiently witness my indulgency to love, by a little image of Cupid, which I one day consecrated to that Deity, and placed in the park belonging to the Academy, there where they who run with the sacred Torch, are wont to assemble themselves. Passing from one thing to another, we spoke of the happiness, and of the misfortunes of marriage, and thus our discourse varying, as it oft falls out from our first subject, we spoke of news and other such like matters.  
Presently after, Thales feigning to have some order to give to one of his folk about his own affairs, risen to speak to him in his ear, and came and took his place again. Not long after, I might see a stranger come, whom I knew not, who told him he was come from Ath●ns, not above ten days ago. Pressed by the natural desire of curiosity, to know whether there was nothing of new befallen in my Country, since my departure thence, I asked him whether he knew any thing of considerable there or no? No, said he, save only that the day I came away on, I saw the Funeral observed of a young youth of the best rank, whereat all the people of note in the Town, were present, and were very sensible of the sorrow this child's death would cause in his Father, who was not then at Athens. I confess when I heard him speak thus, my colour changed, fearing my son might be concerned: which made me ask him whether he knew not the name of that unfortunate Father? I have forgot it, said he, but I know he is a man of great integrity, and who is much esteemed of in that place.  
I confess, Sir, that since Philosophy teacheth sincerity, as well as modesty, I thought I might be the man spoken of; was willing to know the truth, without offence to good manners; his name, doubtlessly, said I, was not Solon: pardon me, said he, his name came just to my memory, as you pronounced it. To what end serves it to deny it? I could not hear so sad news without sorrow, and that so great as Thales pitied me, and jesting at my weakness, asked me whether it were advantageous for a wise man to marry, or no? Putting himself thereby in a condition to have studied Philosophy for others, not being able to make use thereof himself. After this, he told me there was not one word true of all that this man had said; that he had not so much as been at Athens of a long time; and that he had said all this by his directions, which he had caused to be given him, when he risen from me to speak in the ear with one of his servants.  
At my return to Athens, I found my son alive indeed, but I found the whole Town in confusion, by reason of some disorder that had happened between those that were descended from Megacles, and those that were come of them that had been of the Citonien conspiracy. The Megarians surprised the port of Nisa, and re took the Isle of Salamina, w … had caused me so much trouble. And to add to the misfortune, all the people were seized on with a superstitious snare, which persuaded them that spirits returned; that fantosmes and apparitions appeared; and this imagination prevailed so much with most of them, as there was an universal humiliation.  
Those who had the charge of the sacred things, said, that they found infallible signs by the Victims, that the town needed purification, and that the gods were incensed by reason of some secret offence committed.  
To this effect, by the advice of the wisest sort, they sent an Express to Creta, to Epimenides the Phaestien, who was and doubtleslie is still, an incomparable man, a man whose life is altogether pure, innocent, and holy: who eats no more than what is sufficient to maintain life, and whose soul leans as little to the senses, as in this life it can: who is very learned in the knowledge of heavenly things; and who passes in his Country, not only for one who hath sometimes Divine Revelations, but is by the people of Crete believed to be the son of a Nymph, called, Balta. However it be sir, he is a man of extraordinary knowledge, and virtue.  
Epimenides, not refusing the entreaties that were made unto him, came to Athens, and of so many famous men as were in that noted City, did me the favour to choose me for his most intimate friend, having through his wisdom, and through the people's belief in him, dissipated all their false imaginations, and that by prayers, Sacrifices, and Ceremonies, he had rid them of all their fears, he would yet stay a while at Athens for my sake; where certainly he told Prodigious predictions to a hundred several people. As we were speaking one day of humane weaknesses, and how little a man ought to rely upon his own strength, nor yet upon Philosophy; I acquainted him with what had befallen me with Thales the Milesian, and how much ashamed I was, not to be master of my first opinions. Solon (said he to me) is easy to be overcome on that side, and as oft as fortune will make use of the affections of nature against him, she will certainly overcome him: For he hath a soul as tender upon such eneounters, as strong against ambition: But Solon, said he, you are to be bewailed if you do not resolve to believe me; and believe that what you underwent whilst you were with your friend Thales, is little in comparison of what you shall one day suffer in the person of a Daughter, of whom your wife is at this present with Child.  
I have, said he, observed your birth, and your life, and I find that this child, which will be soon born, will be a prodigy for beauty and virtue; and will also be one of the happiest women in the world, if you will believe my council: but also if you will not believe, and follow it, she will be most unfortunate. In fine, saidhe, If you do not what I shall say unto you, you shall have the discontent to see that your Daughter's beauty will make your Country desolate; and that after having refused the sovereign power (as you will one day refuse it) she will make one of your Citizens fall in Love with her, who will become the Tyrant of the Common wealth, which will make her resolve to die, rather than to marry him.  
I confese I was much troubled to hear Epimenides speak after this manner; for I had heard him foretell divers things, which I had seen punctually fall out according to his predictions. I than desired him to tell me what he would have me do, to preserve a man who did sacrifice his whole life to the glory of Athens, from having a daughter who should cause love in him that would be the Tyrant thereof. He told me then, That since it was not yet known in Athens that my wife was with Child, I should conceal her great belly; send her into the country, & when she should be brought to bed, that I should cause this daughter to be secretly brought up, not suffering her to know whose child she was, nor yet any other body whosoever, except those who were to have the care of her education, that if it should so fall out, as I should be forced to forsake my Country, I must during my exile, leave her in some Island upon the Egean Sea; and that things being thus carried, she should be infallibly happy, and I should not need to fear that she should be beloved by the Tyrant of Athens. In fine, Sir, to shorten my discourse, I obeyed Epimenides his his advise; I sent my wife into the Country, where when her time was come, she was brought to bed of a Daughter: wondering at the accomplishment of the beginning of this prediction, I continued to follow Epeminedes his directions, who at his departure (after having refused all the presents that were made him, and taking for his reward, only a branch of the Sacred Olive) told me that my daughter would one day cause as much joy in me by her virtue, and good fortune, as she would cause sorrow in me by reason of her loss. These obscure words continued fixed in my memory, so as I put my daughter into the hands of a Sister of mine whom I loved very well, who was married in Corinth, and was come to see me: trusting only her, and her husband, with the secret which Epeminedes had acquainted me withal.  
I will not stay to tell you, that soon after I lost my wife, for which I was very much grieved; neither will I entertain you with the disorders of Athens, which are too well known to all men; nor yet with the relation how I was solicited to accept of the sovereign power, being put in mind that there had been Kings of my Race, and that one that was descended from the illustrious Chodrus, need make no scruple to accept the Sceptre: nor with what steadfastness I rejected those who made so unjust a proposition to me, following Epeminedes his predictions. Neither will I tell you what Laws I there established, you know them, and know how they were observed; nor yet the resolution which I took to quit my Country, for the space of ten years; to the end that I might make no further alterations, and leave the people leisure to accustom themselves to their new Laws.  
But I will tell you, that being ready to take my voluntary banishment from Greece, and not forgetting what Epeminedes had told me, I came to Corinth, unknown: and having told my sister that I was obliged to leave my Daughter in an Island during the time of my exile: This virtuous personage, who loved her no less than a Daughter, which she had of her own, had married a Gentleman of extraordinary worth, and who had long lived a retired live, so as as she easily prevailed with him, not to abandon my Daughter, who really appeared to me, to be the sweetest child I ever saw. I consulted the Gods touching my design, who confirmed me therein. Thus I took this little Family along with me in my ship; and being desirous that the place of exile for these whom I so dearly loved, might be a pleasant place, I chose this Isle to leave them in.  
Whilst Solon discovered thus at large, Philoxypes, who longed to interrupt him, could no longer forbear: did you, Sir, said he, leave a Daughter in this Island? Yes, said Solon, with a sigh, and I saw her here about four years ago, when I would be seen by none but by you: and Sir, if I may be allowed to say so, I saw her such a one as Epeminedes had desiphered her, to wit handsome, full of wit & virtue.  
When I first left those, to whose guidance I committed her, I willed them to say they were of the Island of Crete: At this word, Philoxypes changed colour, remembering that it was of thence that Cleanthes said himself to be. But Sir, said he, how was this daughter called, that the Gods gave you? Polycrite replied, Solon. Policrite, said Philoxypes, is Policrite, Sir, than your daughter? Solon surprised at Philoxypes question, changed colour also, and feared lest this Prince might have known somewhat of Policrite, which might displease him more than the uncertainty he was in of her life or place of abode.  
How Sir, said he, came you to know my daughter, whom to say truth, I left near enough to you, but whom I had also left in a place, where I thought not you should have met with her; and that when you should have met with her, you should not have known her to be what she is? It was the Gods, replied Philoxypes, who brought me to the knowledge of her; and 'tis the Gods likewise, said he, who have taken her from her Cottage, doubtlessly to punish me for not precisely knowing the daughter of that famous Solon. At last, he desired this Lawgiver to go into his Gallery, which was painted since his last being at Claria; and showing him the several pictures of Policrite, under the figure of Venus Urania; behold, Sir, said he, the Goddess which made me know Policrite. Solon surprised with the sight, looked on Philoxypes & not comprehending how he could come by those pictures, without Policrites consent; Sir, said he, Epimenides assured me that Policrite, should be virtuous; but these pictures make me believe, that being bred up amongst the Rocks, she may have become too indulgent. Ah, Sir, said Philoxypes! how fare is Policrite from what you speak of? but shall I dare to acquaint you with my boldness? and shall I dare to inquire of you, before I acquaint you with my misfortune, and yours, wherefore you left her in that place? Solon, who knew Cleanthes and Megisto's integrity, who knew likewise how virtuous Policrite was, condemned his first suspicions, and hasted to tell him how when he first arrived in our Island, he made Cleanthes and his Family come on shore as passengers which he knew not, that afterwards he placed them near the sea, side, but that being afterwards at Claria, and whilst he assisted him in the building of that town to which he would give his name, being walked abroad all alone, he had observed that little desert place, where he placed Policrite, having given Cleanthes where withal to build that little Cottage, and where withal to subsist commodiously during the time of his exile. That passing from Africa, into Asia, to go to Croesus' his Court, he would first come once again to Cyprus, that he might see his dear Policrite. That he had been a whole month in that Cottage, Policrite not having all that while either known his name, nor that he was her Father; and that afterwards he came to visit him at Claria; that he confessed he had in that journey discovered strange lights in the young maid's understanding, which obliged him to be very sensible of her loss: For said he, I can find no body now in that Cottage, and cannot learn, neither why those that did inhabit there have left it, nor how long it is since they went from thence, nor what way they are gone.  
But you Sir, said he, be pleased I beseech you to let me hear all whatsoever you know of my daughter, and conceal nothing from me; for I confess I stand upon thorns. Philoxypes having observed that Solon was really very impatient to know how he came to know Policrite, and how he had got so many Pictures of hers, told him the whole truth; he made him call to mind his former inflexibility, and how he had told him long since that a man might once in his life be overcome by love without any shame. Then he told him what glorious and gallant company he had had at his house; how miraculously this Venus was esteemed by them all: the contestation which he had with them thereupon; how afterwards he met with Policrite, at the head of the River Claria; how surprised he was to see that the Portrait of his Venus, should be the picture of this unknown maid; how much he was troubled that he could not find her again; how happily he met Cleanthes as he was going with his Family to the Temple: how he see her the third time when he found her in the Temple; how at last he discovered her Cottage, and his sundry thoughts thereupon: he acquainted him with the first visit he made to Policrite, when he found her making Garlands of Flowers; what speech he had with Cleanthes, and Megisto; and in fine, how violently he was taken with her. He told him also, how he had endeavoured to suppress his passion, by reason of the supposed meanness of her birth: what an alteration this passion had wrought in his mind: how the Court was startled at his Melancholy; the King's odd conceit thereupon, his discourse with the King, and with the Princess Aretaphile: how angry this Princess was, and how much he himself was perplexed: how it came to pass that Mandroclus had drawn Policrite's Pictures; and in fine, he told him all that had befallen him: and when he had ended his recital, not affording Solon leisure to speak, thus you see, Sir, said he, I am no longer that Inflexible Philoxypes which you formerly known me to be, but I may safely protest unto you, that I loved Policrite in a Cottage, with the same respect as if she had been seated on a Throne: and I may also assure you, that my passion for her was as pure, as if I had known she had been your daughter.  
Do not blame me then, I conjure you, since I have only adored Solon's virtue and worth in Policrite's person; for 'tis her virtuous mind which I am more enamoured of, then of her personal beauty; yet do I deserve to be punished, for doubtlessly my frequent visits have caused Cleanthes to change his abode. He knew not Philoxypes, and Imagined he might have abused him in Policrite: But to prove, said he, that I lived respectfully with her, and that I never received a favourable word from her, see (said he, Sir, showing him the letter which he had received) the innocent and cruel sign of acknowledgement, that this Divine Personage hath given me, since that at the same time when she says she will remember me, she says also she shall never see me more: yet Sir, said he, if my passion do displease you, you shall see how ready I will be to die, as soon as you shall have given me the least occasion so to do; since that is the only way whereby I can pluck her from out my heart: but on the contrary, if you do truly love me, you will rather bewail me, then accuse me; you will promise me not to oppose me, if the Gods restore Policrite to you: and you will suffer her to be Mistress of that stately town which was built by your directions.  
I wish, Sir, I were able to offer her sundry Sceptres; but I think not that he who refuseth them, will stick much to bestow his daughter on a Prince, who thinks himself happy in being but near a Throne, and to assist his King to sustain the weight of his Sceptre.  
When Philoxypes had made an end of speaking, and Solon had read Policrite's letter; my Daughter said he, is yet wiser than I thought her to have been: and since she hath been able to resist the charms of Philoxype's greatness and worth I find Epimenides had reason to speak of her, as of a miracle.  
Be you then assured, said he, Sir, That if the Gods restore my Daughter to me, I shall bring no other obstacle to your designs, than my humble desire that you will seriously consider whether she be worthy or no of the honour you would do her: for if you continue in your resolution, and that I shall know that she doth indeed deserve a part of the favours which you vouchsafe her, I shall be ready to command her to look on you, as on him whom the gods have chosen to make her happy and glorious.  
I do not tell you Philoxypes, that the famous Excestides, my Father, who left me poor only out of his own magnificency, was descended from the illustrious blood of King Chodrus; for these are not things which I think men ought much to boast of: But I will assure you, that all those of my House, since they have left the Crown, have been as good Citizens, as their Forefathers were good Kings; and that for my particular, I had always rather oppose myself to Tyranny, then be a Tyrant.  
In fine, said he, as it is not to your greatness that I give Policrite, I pretend also, that Policrite's virtue, shall supply the place of a Crown.  
But alas, said Philoxypes! how will you give me this Divine Policrite, if we know not where she is? She must be begged of the Gods, replied Solon, since 'tis from them alone that we are to expect all the good that can befall us.  
In fine; sir, Philoxypes conceived an unexpressable joy, to find Solon so favourably disposed towards him. But also his grief was no less extreme, to think that Solon's good intentions would prove of no use, if Policrite were not found. Yet was he somewhat comforted with the sight of so famous a man, and the conversation of one so perfectly wise, made his sorrow appear at least more moderate, though really it was always very great. Nay, I remember he told me that notwithstanding all his sadness, he forgot not you, sir, but entertained Solon with the discourse of you, as of a very extraordinary Personage.  
This mean while the King, having heard of Solon's arrival, and how that Policrite was his daughter, was exceeding glad, and would have him and Philoxypes to come to Court; so as this Prince his love was no longer so great a secret.  
Imagining that Cleanthes was not gone out of the Island, command was sent again to all the Towns and Villages, to give an account of what strangers lived in them, but do what they could, they could learn no acceptable news.  
This mean while the Court grew very melancholy; for Princess Aretaphile, not able to put on a resolution of pardoning the King, the King by an odd fancy of Love, resolved also to win this Princess her heart, before he would assure her to make her his Queen.  
Philoxypes on his part was mad to think he could not find out Policrite, and that he had been the cause why Solon had lost her: and Solon was also very sad that he could hear no news of his daughter; especially at a time when he was of necessity to return to Athens, where he had learned that there was great disorders, and that all things tended towards Sedition.  
He known that there were three several Factions there: that one Lycurgus was chief of those that inhabited the plains; that Megacles, son to Alcmeon, commanded over those of the sea coast, and that Pisistrates, whom certainly you knew when you went to Athens, was chief of the mountaineers. So as though all that numerous people had punctually observed his Laws, since his departure, yet the face of affairs was likely soon to alter.  
Solon being then necessitated to be gone within a few days, told Philoxypes, That the interest of a man's country, was to be preferred before all things else: and that he who chose rather to conceal his daughter, then to expose her to the love of a Tyrant, would not abandon his Country, to expect in vain to hear of one whom certainly the Gods would preserve if she were worthy of their care; so as he had no more to do, then give him full leave to marry her if he should find her; Philoxypes being at that same time both much afflicted, and much joyed; thanked Solon for the honour he did him; but the wind not serving for his departure, and his ship not being ready, he must have patience for a while. During this interval of time, Solon understood that there was a famous Temple about some forty miles from Paphos, dedicated as were almost all the rest in the Island, to Venus Urania, where 'twas said this Goddess delighted more to be honoured, then in any other Temple: because the custom there was, that all the Ceremonies were performed by maids of good descent, who dedicated themselves to the service of that Goddess, and who were to serve her three years in her Temple before they were to marry.  
Solon who believed he could not employ the time better, which much against his will, he was to stay in Cyprus, then in praying to the Gods, moved Philoxypes to go thither, who easily gave way thereunto: so as getting on horseback the next morning and attended but by a few servants, they came to this Temple, which is very delightfully seated.  
I know Sir, I should not stay to acquaint you with all the Ceremonies of the sacrifice, which upon this occasion was offered for Solon, and Philoxypes; yet it being famous amongst us for what ensued thereupon, I will crave leave to do it; as also because peradventure, you have not seen the like: For 'tis a sacrifice which doth not cost the victims lives, but on the contrary, makes them recover their liberty.  
This Temple is fairly enough built: the Altar is stately, at the foot whereof, and just in the midst, is placed a great candlestick of Gold with twelve branches, whereon Crystal Lamps hung which was all lighted instantly after. Fifty maids, clothed in silver Tiffany, mingled with blue to denote the original of that heavenly Venus whom they served, having each of them a Coronet of flowers on their head, and sprigs of Myrrh in their hands, ranked themselves on the two sides of the Temple, she only excepted who was to perform the Ceremony, who stayed in the middle.  
At the foot of this golden Candlestick, there was a great Chest or Coffer of the same metal, wherein there was fire which they termed sacred, because it is only lighted by the agitation of certain stones consecrated to the Goddess: she who offered the sacrifice in the name of Solon, and Philoxypes, put Amber, Frankincense, Benjamin, and divers other perfumes, into this Pile of wood: This being done, and having made a little Pile of the dry boughs of Myrrh upon the Altar, she took a Torch made of perfumed wax, wherewith she set it on fire, and with the same Torch she lighted fifty others which were placed in sundry parts of the Temple: after this, one of these maids brought two Turtles tied together with threads of gold and blue silk; and before her who carried the Birds, went four other maids singing a Hymn after the Lydian manner: after these came four others, bringing with them two Swans tied together with a string of blue and gold, and followed by four more who sung as did the former.  
These maids who carried the Victims, kneeled down before the Altar, which being done, she who did the Ceremony, (to the end that she might not irritate Venus Anadiomena, who had been formerly worshipped in that Temple, by the honour that was done to Venus Urania) took Roses and Cockles, which she strewed upon the Altar, and taking a great shell of the Mother of pearl full of sea water, taken up towards the east, she sprinkled the Victims therewith.  
The holy knife, adorned with Oriental Agate, was likewise prepared, as it were to sacrifice them; but the maids who sung continually forbade them in the behalf of Venus Urania, so as she who carried the Turtles, and the other who carried the Swans, drawing near her who performed the Ceremony, she untied them, and opening one of the windows of the Temple, at the same time when they threw new perfumes into the pile of wood, they were lost in that cloud of perfume which arose, and flying towards heaven, seemed as if they went to carry up the vows of Solon and Philoxypes, to the Goddess to whom they were offered up.  
After this, all the maids which were in the Temple, began a Canticle of joy and one of them taking a little Faggot of Myrrh, which was bound about with threads of Gold, swept together the ashes of the little pile, to see whether all were quite consumed or no; for this is one of the tokens that the Sacrifice hath been well received.  
In pursuit after this, they went to visit the sacred garden, wherein the Turtles and Swans, destined to the service of the Goddess, are bred up, to see whether those that were offered up unto her, were returned thither or no: for when this falls not out, 'tis an infallible observation that the sacrifice hath not been well accepted of, and that the Goddess thinks not those birds pure enough to be presented unto her another time. But as for Solon his Sacrifice, it had all the marks of a happy Sacrifice; the Pile was totally consumed, the perfumes mounted straight upright toward the Temple's Roof, the birds flew Eastward, and were found in the sacred Garden. In fine, these maids assured Philoxypes and Solon, that their vows were well accepted of by the Goddess; and that they had not of a long time offered any Sacrifice, which had been so well accepted of.  
Having then returned acknowledgements to the Divine Urania, these two returned to Paphos: Solon did so pleasantly entertain Philoxypes, and said such fine things to him, as not taking heed, he missed the way by which they came. Those who followed them, thought that Philoxypes, who very well knew that way, intended to go some whither that they knew not of, so as they let him go on. Continuing to ride on thus by this by-way, they strayed not only from the way they were to go, but came at last to a place where there was not beaten tract at all: finding themselves at the Sea side, amongst wild, and almost inaccessible Rocks, the sight hereof recalled into Philoxypes memory the desert wherein he had found Policrites abode.  
But at the same time he found that he had lost his way; and that he knew not where he was: yet it appearing delightful enough unto him, though sandy enough, he said to Solon, that continuing to go along the sea side, they should meet with some path which would lead them back into the right way; wherefore they did not return back, but continued on their way; and Philoxypes road foremost, that he might be a guide to those that he had led out of the way.  
Being advanced a good way, he might see five or six fisher's Cottages, built upon the sea side, and heard the voice of certain women who seemed to bewail some misfortune.  
He then mended his pace, not knowing why the voice of those women had had such an operation in him: and being come near them, he knew Megisto, and Dorida, and found them sorely weeping, and accompanied with many other women, who wept as well as they, and who not minding him, looked all towards the sea.  
He then looked the same way they did, where, alas! he might see Policrite, all alone in a little boat floating, without either Oars or Rudder; who not knowing what to do, was upon her knees praying to Heaven; for though the sea went not very high, yet was it somewhat moved; and moreover, the Rocks bearing back the Waves on that side, and a breath of air blowing from land, the boat went still further off.  
Philoxypes seeing Polycrite in so great a danger, and not seeing any boat that he might make use of, lighted suddenly off Horseback, and threw himself into the Water, swimming straight towards Policrite.  
So as when Solon, who was a little behind, was come to the sea shore, you may easily imagine how much he was surprised to see Megisto covered with tears, Policrite all alone in a boat, which the Waves bore towards the full sea, and Philoxypes swimming towards Policrite; but he was so far from her, as it was to be believed that (the boat floating still forward) his strength might fail him before he could get up to her; and that Solon might see his dear daughter perish in his sight, as also a Prince whom he loved no less than her.  
To tell you also how strangely astonished Megisto was, to see Philoxypes throw himself into the sea, and presently after to see Solon come, is not a thing easily done. Nor yet to set forth Policrites thoughts, when she known Philoxypes, and see him in so great danger for her sake.  
This gallant personage told us notwithstanding afterwards, that she no sooner known him, but the object of her vows altered; and that ceasing to think on her own danger, all her prayers were poured forth for Philoxypes. This mean while Solon was upon the shore with Megisto, whose mind was not then at liberty enough to tell him how this misfortune happened, telling him only that Policrite was lost.  
And to say truth, I think that upon this encounter, Solon's wisdom was put to a greater trial, than ever it had been: and that it was much more easy for him to refuse a Crown, then to see Policrite and Philoxypes in the danger they were in, without giving apparent tokens of despair.  
Yet this famous man kept himself within the lawful bounds of sorrow; and not doing any thing unworthy of himself, did notwithstanding, feel what ever pains a tender and generous soul could suffer under.  
This mean while though Philoxypes was but lightly clad, for the spring was already very hot in our Island, he could not swim with that facility as he might have done, had he been naked; so as Policrites boat driving still away, he could not get up unto it.  
One might see this young maid use some bootless endeavours to stay this little boat, but 'twas impossible for her to do it: nay, she did things which she her self knew were of no avail, yet could not keep from doing them.  
One might likewise observe Philoxypes to strive to his utmost, & then he seemed to be ready to perish through weariness. But at last being got near the boat, sometimes one might see the boat driven near unto him by one Wave, and sometimes born from him by another; for it went too and fro with the wind.  
It was so near him as he might hear Policrites voice, not being able to answer her, so much was he out of breath with swimming.  
Sir, said she, Let me perish; do you return to the shore: and strive not bootlesly to save me.  
You may imagine whether so obliging a command did not oblige Philoxypes to redouble his forces. At last, Sir, after that Solon had seen the Waves rise up more than once, ready to over-turn the boat, and swallow up Philoxypes, who was now able to do no more, a great Wave having driven the boat towards him, he luckily laid hold of the rope whereby it was fastened formerly to the Sea bank.  
You may imagine, Sir, what Philoxypes joy was then, as likewise what that of Policrite, Solon, Megisto, Dorida, and the other women that were upon the shore; they all shouted for joy.  
Yet was it not yet time to rejoice; For though it be not hard to guide a floating boat, yet Philoxypes was so weary, as there was reason to despair of his ever accomplishing what he had so happily begun: he was seen to sink twice under water, yet never quit the rope which he had in his hand. Think sir, how great Policrites grief was then, and with how many tears she repaid the pains he took to save her. One might observe this Amorous Prince do two contrary things; for he would look back upon the shore, that he might the sooner bring back his Dear Policrite thither; and sometimes believing he should perish without saving her, he would at least have the contentment of seeing her at his last gasp.  
He looked thus, sometimes towards the shore, sometimes on Policrite: and things were in this condition; when Philoxypes and Solon's servants, who tarried a good way behind by reason of some accident which had befallen one of their horses, were come up, amongst which was one of Philoxypes his gentlemen, who being skilful in swimming, threw himself instantly into the Water, and helped his dear Master to guide Policrite back unto the shore, where this Prince was no sooner arrived, but that his force failing him he swooned.  
'tis needless to tell you what Solon, Megisto, and all the rest that were on the shore, did to aid him. As for Policrite, she was so surprised and so afflicted to see what condition Philoxypes was in, as she was not sensible of the joy of having escaped so great a danger: but at last, after having carried Philoxypes into one of those little Huts, and having by the means they used, brought him to life again, and dried his apparel, he asked where Policrite was? whom Solon brought to him out of a little chamber whither she had retired herself, though she had not yet perfectly shaken off the fear she had been in of herself, and of Philoxypes.  
But at last all being retired that were in that little hut, save Megisto, Policrite, Dorida, Philoxypes, and Solon. Solon desired Megisto to tell him, why she had quitted the little abode which he had caused be built for her? wherefore she was come to this place, and where Cleanthes was? Wherefore they had left no order to acquaint him with their removal? and how this last misfortune had befallen Policrite? But, said he, sister, speak freely without any wise disguising the truth. For Prince Philoxypes knows I am your brother, that Policrite is my daughter: and I know also that he does her the honour to love her; therefore conceal nothing for his respect, for he hath now a deeper share in Policrite, than I have, since I have given her to him; and that he may now lay a new claim unto her, by having saved her life.  
I leave you to imagine, Sir, how Policrite was surprised to know that she was Solon's daughter, whom she knew to be a great and excellent man, but whom she knew not to be her father; and to know at the same time that she was bestowed on Phyloxypes; she blushed, but with a great deal of modesty: and looking upon Megisto, as if she would ask her whether it were true or not that she was Solon's daughter? she confirmed her in that belief; and afforded her leisure so to confound the joy she had to see Philoxypes again, with that of her knowing herself to be daughter to so famous a man, as nothing appeared in her countenance but what so great an honour might cause in her.  
Philoxypes beginning then to speak, said as obliging things to Solon in Policrites behalf, as in his own; and Megisto was somewhile before she could satisfy her Brother's curiosity. But at last she told him, That knowing the love Prince Philoxypes bore to Policrite she had thought it fitting to acquaint Policrite only, that she was more than what she took herself to be, to the end she might know how to treat Philoxypes with more indifferency; and that she might think herself the less obliged to him for his affection: That Cleanthes and she, having observed that this had produced a contrary effect in Policrite, and Prince Philoxypes having showed much passion in the last visit which he made them, she confessed the ones worth, and the others youth had caused some apprehension in her: that in pursuit hereof, knowing that the King was at Claria, and fearing lest Philoxypes might speak to him of Policrites beauty, she had advised Cleanthes to quit his abode, which in effect they had done, and were come to this little Maretine hamlet where Cleanthes was acquainted with an old Fisherman, who had left them his hut, being himself gone to live with a son of his: that they had left a young Slave at their former place of abode, with direction, That if Solon should come thither, he should wish him to come the first day of the next ensuing moon to a Temple which they named unto him, where Cleanthes would not fail to be on the same days to meet him when he should come thither.  
That since that time, Cleanthes had learned by the Priest of the little Temple which was near their former abode, that this Slave was dead; so as knowing that the time of Solon's return drawn near, Cleanthes resolved to go live himself alone at Paphos, knowing that when he should return to Cyprus, he would not fail to wait upon the King, and so he could not miss of him; to which purpose he was gone thither that very morning: that Policrite, who had no better pastime, especially since they had left their former abode, then to draw every day something or other upon her Tablebooks: seeing all the fisher men were gone from their little hamlet, leaving no boat behind them, save that wherein they had seen her, and wherein there was neither Rudder nor Oar, sat down in it, and not minding whether it were well fastened to the shore or no, was designing forth that little rural float of boats which went still further from her: that she was so attentive to her work in hand, that as she herself had told them, she did not perceive the boat wherein she was, was loosened from the land, and went floating as the winds blew it: so as said Megisto, coming forth to look after Polycrite, I saw her in the posture I have told you, and skreeked out so loud, as I made her perceiv the danger she was in, not being able to help her, there not being one man left it the whole Ham let; and all the fisher boam, having already doubled a Cape of land whereby we lost sight of them.  
Megisto having ended her relation, Solon 'gan admire the Providence of the Gods in the guidance of worldly things; and considering that unless Philoxipeses and he had lost their way, Policrite in all appearance had been lost, he could not sufficiently praise the Goddess, who had so well received his sacrifice; in effect, this Temple of Venus Urania, hath got much renown by this adventure. But Sir! to abuse your patience no longer, I will only tell you, that instead of going to Paphos, Philoxypes and Solon went the next day to Claria, whether they brought Megisto, Policrite, Dorida, and all the women that attended them, after that Philoxypes had largely rewarded all the fisher-men's wives for their Hospitality and courtesy shown to Policrite. To tell you how great Philoxypes and Policrites joy was, would be no easy matter, and to relate unto you in what terms this happy Lover expressed his satisfaction to Policrite, and with what an obliging modesty she received the testimony of his affection, and gave him some marks of hers, would be to undertake to difficult a task. For to learn in one and the same day, that she was daughter to the so Illustrious Solon, and that she was to be wife to Philoxypes, were two things wherewith her soul was divided. Philoxypes failed not to show Policrite her pictures in his Gallery, which though rarely handsome, came much short of her. The next day Solon sent to inquire out Cleanthes at Paphos, where he was found and brought to Claria. Necessary order being taken for it, Cleanthes, Megisto, Policrite, and Dorida, had  made answerable to their condition.  
The next morning the princess of Salamis, and the Princess Agherista, being advertised by their brother Philoxypes of the truth of his adventure: these two fair Princesses, I say, who loved him dearly, who had learned Policrytes illustrious birth by this advertisement, and who did reverence Solon as a God, went to Claria, to conduct this beautiful creature to Paphos.  
But good Gods! how they were surprised with her extreme beauty, comparing which with her Pictures they found her to exceed them far; but if she appeared fair unto them, she seemed yet more spiritual.  
She had somewhat in her of admirable modesty, which having nothing in it of Rustic, rendered her yet more pleasing: she had a soul doubtlessly, fraught with all that innocency which she had preserved amidst those Rocks: but withal a mind and humour wherein were all the Charms which the Court could afford.  
For Megisto being rightly Solon's sister, knew as well as any one what was requisite in, and did necessarily become those of her Sex, and had perfectly instructed Policrite therein.  
Young Dorida appeared also to be very fair, and lovely at the Court, where the King received Solon, Cleanthes, Megisto, Philoxypes, and Policrite, with unexpressable joy and honour. And this so much the more, as that being at last, resolved to content Princess Aretaphiles Ambition, that so he might satisfy his own Love, had made her be told the day before, that it should be her fault if she were not Queen.  
But if Aretaphile were Queen of Cyprus, Policrite was the Queen of Beauty; none but the Princess of Salamis could any ways dispute that glorious Empire with her. In fine, Sir, there was nothing heard of now, but feasts and rejoicing. Solon being of necessity to be gone, they hasted the consummation of these famous marriages: The King would have one Ceremony serve for them both; nor did Cyprus ever see any thing of more glorious, though it were done with precipitation. Solon called then to mind Epimenides his predictions, and confessed there was somewhat of Divine in that holy man. But his Country's interest prevailing more with him, than whatsoever other interests, he departed for Athens, so as some tears of sorrow did for a while a little allay Policrite's Joy; but to comfort her, young Dorida was left with her, when Cleanthes and Megisto embarked themselves with Solon. This was the condition Sir, wherein this great man left the Court of Cyprus: to wit, the King highly content: Queen Aretaphile as highly satisfied, and Philoxypes and Policrite so happy, as wishes could not add thereunto.  
FINIS.