I considered her a new woman, and one whom I had a wager to win upon,

the conquest of one I had inclination to, till by the discovery of the

jilt in her, I began to despise the beauty; however, as I said, she

was new, and now perhaps easy to be brought to any terms, as indeed it

happened; she caressed me with all imaginable fondness; was ready to

eat my lips instead of kissing them, and much more forward than I

wished, who do not love an over-easy conquest; however, she pleased me

for three days together, in all which time she detained me there,

coming to me early, and staying the latest hour; and I have no reason

to repent my time; for besides that I have passed it very well, she at

my coming away presented me this jewel in my hat, and this ring on my

finger, and I have saved my five hundred pistoles, my heart, and my

credit in the encounter, and am going to _Brussels_ to triumph over

the haughty conceited _Philander_, who set so great a value on his own

beauty, and yet, for all his fine person, has paid the pistoles,

before he could purchase the blessing, as she swore to me, who have

made a convert of her, and reduced her to the thing she never yet was,

a lover; insomuch, that she has promised me to renounce _Philander_: I

have promised to visit her again; but if I do it will be more for the

vanity to please, than to be pleased; for I never repeat any thing

with pleasure.’ All the while he spoke, _Sylvia_ fixed her eyes, and

all her soft desires upon him; she envies the happy Countess, but much

more the happy maid, with whom his perfect liking made him happy; she

fancies him in her arms, and wishes him there; she is ready a thousand

times to tell him she is a woman, but, when she reflects on his

inconstancy, she fears. When he had ended his story, she cried,

sighing, ‘And you are just come from this fair lady?’ He answered her,

he was sound and heart whole: she replied, ‘It is very well you are

so, but all the young do not thus escape from beauty, and you may,

some time or other, be entrapped.’ ‘Oh,’ cried he, ‘I defy the power

of one, while heaven has distributed variety to all.’ ‘Were you never

in love?’ replied Sylvia. ‘Never,’ said he, ‘that they call love: I

have burnt and raved an hour or two, or so; pursued, and gazed, and

laid sieges, till I had overcome; but, what is this to love? Did I

ever make a second visit, unless upon necessity, or gratitude? And

yet----’ and there he sighed; ‘and yet,’ said he, ‘I saw a beauty once

upon the _Tour_, that has ever since given me torment.’ ‘At

_Brussels_? said _Sylvia_. ‘There,’ replied he; ‘she was the fairest

creature heaven ever made, such white and red by nature, such hair,

such eyes, and such a mouth!----All youth and ravishing sweetness;--I

pursued her to her lodgings, and all I could get, was, that she

belonged to a young nobleman, who since has taken Orders. From the

night I saw her, I never left her window, but had spies of all sorts,

who brought me intelligence, and a little after, I found she had

quitted the place with a new lover, which made me love and rave ten

times more, when I knew assuredly she was a whore--and how fine a one

I had missed.’ This called all the blood to _Sylvia_’. face, and so

confounded her she could not answer; she knew it was herself of whom

he spoke; and that coarse word, though innocently spoken, or rather

gaily expressed, put her quite out of countenance; however, she

recovered again, when she considered they were not meant as rudenesses

to her. She loved him, and was easy to pardon: with such discourse

they passed the evening till towards bed-time, and the young

_Spaniard_, who had taken little rest in three nights before, wanted

some repose; and calling for his chamber, the host besought him, since

they had the happiness (the young _French_ gentleman and himself) to

be so good friends, that they would share a bed together: ‘For in

truth,’ said he, ‘sir, you must sit up all night else;’ he replied,

with all his soul, it was the most grateful proposal had been ever

made him; and addressing himself to _Sylvia_, asked him if he would

allow him that blessing: she blushed extremely at the question, and

hung down her eyes, and he laughed to see it: ‘Sir,’ said _Sylvia_, ‘I

will give you my bed, for it is all one to me to lie on a bed, or on

the chairs.’ ‘Why, sir,’ said _Alonzo_, ‘I am too passionate an adorer

of the female sex, to incommode any of my own with addresses; nor am I

so nice, but I can suffer a man to lie by me, especially so dear a

youth as yourself;’ at which he embraced her in his arms, which did

but the more raise _Sylvia_’. blushes, who wished for what she

dreaded: ‘With you, sir,’ said she, ‘I could methinks be content to do

what I do not use to do;’ and, fearing to betray her sex, forced a

consent; for either one or the other she was compelled to do; and with

the assurance that he thought her what she seemed, she chose to give

her consent, and they both went to bed together: to add to her deceit

(she being forced in her sickness to cut off her hair) when she put

off her periwig she discovered nothing of the woman; nor feared she

any thing but her breasts, which were the roundest and the whitest in

the world; but she was long in undressing, which to colour the matter,

she suffered her page to do; who, poor lad, was never in so trembling

a condition, as in that manner to be obliged to serve her, where she

discovered so many charms he never before had seen, but all such as

might be seen with modesty: by that time she came to bed, _Alonzo_ was

fast asleep, being so long kept waking, and never so much as dreamt he

had a woman with him; but she, whose fears kept her waking, had a

thousand agitations and wishes; so natural it is, when virtue has

broke the bounds of modesty, to plunge in past all retreat; and, I

believe there are very few who retire after the first sin. She

considers her condition in a strange country, her splendour declining,

her love for _Philander_ quite reduced to friendship, or hardly that;

she was young, and ate and drank well; had a world of vanity, that

food of desire, that fuel to vice: she saw this the beautifullest

youth she imagined ever to have seen, of quality and fortune able to

serve her; all these made her rave with a desire to gain him for a

lover, and she imagined as all the vain and young do, that though no

charms had yet been able to hold him, she alone had those that would;

her glass had a thousand times told her so; she compares him to

_Octavio_, and finds him, in her opinion, handsomer; she was possessed

with some love for _Philander_, when he first addressed to her, and

_Octavio_ shared at best but half a heart; but now, that she had lost

all for _Philander_ and _Octavio_, and had a heart to cast away, or

give a new lover; it was like her money, she hated to keep it, and

lavished it on any trifle, rather than hoard it, or let it lie by: it

was a loss of time her youth could not spare; she, after reflection,

resolved, and when she had resolved, she believed it done. By a candle

she had by her, to read a little novel she had brought, she surveyed

him often, as curiously as _Psyche_ did her _Cupid_, and though he

slept like a mere mortal, he appeared as charming to her eyes as the

winged god himself; and it is believed she wished he would awake and

find by her curiosity, her sex: for this I know, she durst no longer

trust herself a-bed with him, but got up, and all the last part of the

night walked about the room: her page lay in the room with her, by her

order, on the table, with a little valise under his head, which he

carried _Sylvia_’. linen in; she awoke him, and told him all her

fears, in a pleasant manner. In the morning _Alonzo_ awakes, and

wonders to find her up so soon, and reproached her for the unkindness;

new protestations on both sides passing of eternal friendship, they

both resolved for _Brussels_; but, lest she should encounter

_Philander_ on the way, who possibly might be on visiting his _Dutch_

countess, she desired him to ride on before, and to suffer her to lose

the happiness of his company, till they met in _Brussels_: with much

ado he consents, and taking the ring the countess gave him, from off

his finger, ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘be pleased to wear this, and if ever you

need my fortune, or my sword, send it, and in what part of the world

soever I am, I will fly to your service.’ _Sylvia_ returned him a

little ring set round with diamonds, that Philander in his wooing time

had given her, amongst a thousand of finer value: his name and hers

were engraven instead of a posie in it; which was only _Philander_ and

_Sylvia_, and which he took no notice of, and parted from each other

in the tenderest manner, that two young gentlemen could possibly be

imagined to do, though it were more than so on her side; for she was

madly in love with him.

As soon as _Sylvia_ came to _Brussels_, she sent in the evening to

search out _Brilliard_, for she had discovered, if he should come to

the knowledge of her being in town, and she should not send to him, he

would take it so very ill, that he might prevent all her designs and

rambles, the now joy of her heart; she knew she could make him her

slave, her pimp, her any thing, for love, and the hope of her favour,

and his interest might defend her; and she should know all

_Philander_’., motions, whom now, though she loved no more, she

feared. She found him, and he took her lodgings, infinitely pleased at

the trust she reposed in him, the only means by which he could arrive

to happiness. She continues her man’s habit, and he supplied the place

of _valet_, dressed her and undressed her, shifted her linen every

day; nor did he take all these freedoms, without advancing a little

farther upon occasion and opportunity, which was the hire she gave

him, to serve her in more lucky amours; the fine she paid to live

free, and at ease. She tells him her adventure, which, though it were

daggers to his heart, was, however, the only way to keep her his own;

for he knew her spirit was too violent to be restrained by any means.

At last, she told him her design upon a certain young man of quality,

who she told him, was the same she encountered. She assured him it was

not love or liking, but perfectly interest that made her design upon

him, and that if he would assist her, she would be very kind to him,

as a man that had gained very greatly upon her heart. This flattery

she urged with infinite fondness and art, and he, overjoyed, believed

every word as gospel; so that he promised her the next day to carry a

billet to the young _don_: in the mean time, she caused him to sup

with her, purposely to give him an account of _Philander_, _Cesario_

and _Hermione_, whom she heard was come to _Brussels_, and lived

publicly with the Prince. He told her, it was very true, and that he

saw them every day, nay, every moment together; for he verily believed

they could not live asunder; that _Philander_ was every evening

caballing there, where all the malcontents of the Reformed Religion

had taken sanctuary, and where the Grand Council was every night held;

for some great things were in agitation, and debating how to trouble

the repose of all _France_ again with new broils; he told her, that

all the world made their court to _Hermione_, that if any body had any

petitions, or addresses to make to the Prince, it was by her sole

interest; she sat in their closest councils, and heard their gravest

debates; and she was the oracle of the board: the Prince paying her

perfect adoration, while she, whose charms of youth were ended, being

turned of thirty, fortified her decays with all the art her wit and

sex were capable of, and kept her illustrious lover as perfectly her

slave, as if she had engaged him by all those ties that fetter the

most circumspect, and totally subdued him to her will, who was,

without exception, the most lovely person upon earth; ‘and though,

madam, you know him so perfectly well, yet I must tell you my opinion

of him: he is all the softer sex can wish, and ours admire; he is

formed for love and war; and as he is the most amorous and wanton in

courts, he is also the most fierce and brave in field; his birth the

most elevated, his age arrived to full blown man, adorned with all the

spreading glories that charm the fair, and engage the world; and I

have often heard some of our party say, his person gained him more

numbers to his side, than his cause or quality; for he understood all

the useful arts of popularity, the gracious smile and bow, and all

those cheap favours that so gain upon hearts; and without the expense

of any thing but ceremony, has made the nation mad for his interest,

who never otherwise obliged them; and sure nothing is more necessary

in the great, than affability; nor shews greater marks of grandeur, or

shall more eternize them, than bowing to the crowd. As the maiden

queen I have read of in _England_, who made herself idolized by that

sole piece of politic cunning, understanding well the stubborn, yet

good nature of the people; and gained more upon them by those little

arts, than if she had parted with all the prerogatives of her Crown.

Ah! madam, you cannot imagine what little slights govern the whole

universe, and how easy it is for monarchs to oblige. This _Cesario_

was made to know, and there is no one so poor an object, who may not

have access to him, and whom he does not send away well pleased,

though he do not grant what they ask. He dispatches quickly, which is

a grateful virtue in great men; and none ever espoused his interest,

that did not find a reward and a protection; it is true, these are all

the tools he is to work with, and he stops at nothing that leads to

his ambition; nor has he done all that lies in the power of man only,

to set all _France_ yet in a flame, but he calls up the very devils

from hell to his aid, and there is no man famed for necromancy, to

whom he does not apply himself; which, indeed, is done by the advice

of _Hermione_, who is very much affected with those sort of people,

and puts a great trust and confidence in them. She sent at great

expense, for a _German_ conjurer, who arrived the other day, and who

is perpetually consulting with another of the same sort, a _Scot_ by

birth, called _Fergusano_. He was once in Holy Orders, and still is

so, but all his practice is the Black Art; and excellent in it he is

reported to be. _Hermione_ undertakes nothing without his advice; and

as he is absolutely her creature, so his art governs her, and she the

Prince: she holds her midnight conferences with him; and as she is

very superstitious, so she is very learned, and studies this art,

taught by this great master _Fergusano_; and so far is this glorious

hero bewitched with these sorcerers, that he puts his whole trust in

these conjurations and charms; and so far they have imposed on him,

that with an enchanted ointment, which they had prepared for him, he

shall be invulnerable, though he should face the mouth of a cannon:

they have, at the earnest request of _Hermione_, calculated his

nativity, and find him born to be a king; and, that before twenty

moons expire, he shall be crowned in _France_: and flattering his easy

youth with all the vanities of ambition, they have made themselves

absolutely useful to him. This _Scot_, being a most inveterate enemy

to _France_, lets the Prince rest neither night nor day, but is still

inspiring him with new hopes of a crown, and laying him down all the

false arguments imaginable, to spur the active spirit: my lord is not

of the opinion, yet seems to comply with them in Council; he laughs at

all the fopperies of charms and incantations; insomuch, that he many

times angers the Prince, and is in eternal little feuds with

_Hermione_. The _German_ would often in these disputes say, he found

by his art, that the stop to the Prince’s glory would be his love.

This so incensed _Hermione_, and consequently the Prince, that they

had like to have broke with him, but durst not for fear; he knowing

too much to be disobliged: on the other side, _Fergusano_ is most

wonderfully charmed with the wit and masculine spirit of _Hermione_,

her courage, and the manliness of her mind; and understanding which

way she would be served, resolved to obey her, finding she had an

absolute ascendancy over the Prince, whom, by this means, he knew he

should get into his sole management. _Hermione_, though she seemed to

be possessed so entirely of _Cesario_’. heart, found she had great and

powerful opposers, who believed the Prince lay idling in her arms, and

that possibly she might eclipse his fame, by living at that rate with

a woman he had no other pretensions to but love; and many other

motives were urged daily to him by the admirers of his great actions:

and she feared, with reason, that some time or other, ambition might

get the ascendancy of love: she, therefore, in her midnight

conferences with _Fergusano_, often urged him to shew her that piece

of his art, to make a philtre to retain fleeting love; and not only

keep a passion alive, but even revive it from the dead. She tells him

of her contract with him; she urges his forced marriage, as she was

pleased to call it, in his youth; and that he being so young, she

believed he might find it lawful to marry himself a second time; that

possibly his Princess was for the interest of the King; and men of his

elevated fortune ought not to be tied to those strictnesses of common

men, but for the good of the public, sometimes act beyond the musty

rules of law and equity, those politic bands to confine the _mobile_.

At this unreasonable rate she pleads her right to _Cesario_, and he

hearkens with all attention, and approves so well all she says, that

he resolves, not only to attach the Prince to her by all the force of

the Black Art, but that of necessary marriage also: this pleased her

to the last degree; and she left him, after he had promised her to

bring her the philtre by the morning: for it was that she most urged,

the other requiring time to argue with him, and work him by degrees to

it. Accordingly, the next morning he brings her a tooth-pick-case of

gold, of rare infernal workmanship, wrought with a thousand charms, of

that force, that every time the Prince should touch it, and while he

but wore it about him, his fondness should not only continue, but

increase, and he should hate all womankind besides, at least in the

way of love, and have no power to possess another woman, though she

had all the attractions of nature. He tells her the Prince could never

suspect so familiar a present, and for the fineness of the work, it

was a present for a Prince; ‘For,’ said he, ‘no human art could frame

so rare a piece of workmanship; that nine nights the most delicate of

the Infernals were mixing the metal with the most powerful of charms,

and watched the critical minutes of the stars, in which to form the

mystic figures, every one being a spell upon the heart, of that

unerring magic, no mortal power could ever dissolve, undo, or

conquer.’ The only art now was in giving it, so as to oblige him never

to part with it; and she, who had all the cunning of her sex,

undertook for that part; she dismissed her infernal confidant, and

went to her _toilet_ to dress her, knowing well, that the Prince would

not be long before that he came to her: she laid the tooth-pick-case

down, so as he could not avoid seeing it: the Prince came immediately

after in, as he ever used to do night and morning, to see her dress

her; he saw this gay thing on the table, and took it in his hand,

admiring the work of it, as he was the most curious person in the

world: she told him, there was not a finer wrought thing in the world,

and that she had a very great esteem for it, it being made by the

_Sybils_; and bid him mind the antiqueness of the work: the more she

commended it, the more he liked it, and told her, she must let him

call it his: she told him, he would give it away to the next

commender: he vowed he would not: she told him then he should not only

call it his, but it should in reality be so; and he vowed it should be

the last thing he would part with in the world. From that time forward

she found, or thought she found, a more impatient fondness in him than

she had seen before: however it was, she ruled and governed him as she

pleased; and indeed never was so great a slave to beauty, as, in my

opinion, he was to none at all; for she is far from having any natural

charms; yet it was not long since it was absolutely believed by all,

that he had been resolved to give himself wholly up to her arms; to

have sought no other glory, than to have retired to a corner of the

world with her, and changed all his crown of laurel for those of

roses: but some stirring spirits have roused him anew, and awakened

ambition in him, and they are on great designs, which possibly ‘ere

long may make all _France_ to tremble; yet still _Hermione_ is

oppressed with love, and the effects of daily increasing passion. He

has perpetual correspondence with the party in _Paris_, and advice of

all things that pass; they let him know they are ready to receive him

whenever he can bring a force into _France_; nor needs he any

considerable number, he having already there, in every place through

which he shall pass, all, or the most part of the hearts and hands at

his devotion; and they want but arms, and they shall gather as they

go: they desire he will land himself in some part of the kingdom, and

it would be encouragement enough to all the joyful people, who will

from all parts flock together. In fine, he is offered all assistance

and money; and lest all the forces of _France_ should be bent against

him, he has friends, of great quality and interest, that are resolved

to rise in several places of the kingdom, in _Languedoc_ and

_Guyenne_, whither the King must be obliged to send his forces, or a

great part of them; so that all this side of _France_ will be left

defenceless. I myself, madam, have some share in this great design,

and possibly you will one day see me a person of a quality sufficient

to merit those favours I am now blessed with.’ ‘Pray,’ replied

_Sylvia_, smiling with a little scorn, ‘what part are you to play to

arrive at this good fortune?’ ‘I am,’ said he, ‘trusted to provide all

the ammunition and arms, and to hire a vessel to transport them to

some sea-port town in _France_, which the Council shall think most

proper to receive us.’ _Sylvia_ laughed, and said, she prophesied

another end of this high design than they imagined; but desperate

fortunes must take their chance. ‘What,’ continued she, ‘does not

_Hermione_ speak of me, and inquire of me?’ ‘Yes,’ replied

_Brilliard_; ‘but in such a way, as if she looked on you as a lost

creature, and one of such a reputation, she would not receive a visit

from for all the world.’ At this _Sylvia_ laughed extremely, and

cried, ‘_Hermione_ would be very well content to be so mean a sinner

as myself, to be so young and so handsome a one. However,’ said she,

’.o be serious, I would be glad to know what real probability there is

in advancing and succeeding in this design, for I would take my

measures accordingly, and keep _Philander_, whose wavering, or rather

lost fortune, is the greatest motive of my resolves to part with him,

and that have made me so uneasy to him.’ _Brilliard_ told her, he was

very confident of the design, and that it was almost impossible to

miscarry in the discontent all _France_ was in at this juncture; and

they feared nothing but the Prince’s relapsing, who, now, most

certainly preferred love to glory. He farther told her, that as they

were in Council, one deputed from the _Parisians_ arrived with new

offers, and to know the last result of the Prince, whether he would

espouse their interest or not, as they were with life and fortune

ready to espouse his glory. ‘They sent him word, it was from him they

expected liberty, and him whom they looked upon as their tutelar

deity. Old _Fergusano_ was then in Council, that _Highland_ wizard

that manages all, and who is ever at hand to awaken mischief, alarmed

the Prince to new glories, reproaching his scandalous life, withal

telling him, there were measures to be taken to reconcile love and

fame; and which he was to discourse to him about in his closet only;

but as things were, he bid him look into the story of _Armida_ and

_Renaldo_, and compare his own with it, and he doubted not, but he

would return blushing at his remissness and sloth: not that he would

exempt his youth from the pleasures of love, but he would not have

love hinder his glory: this bold speech before _Hermione_ had like to

have begot an ill understanding; but she was as much for the Prince’s

glory as _Fergusano_, and therefore could not be angry, when she

considered the elevation of the Prince would be her own also: at this

necessary reproach the Prince blushed; the board seconding the wizard,

had this good effect to draw this assurance from him, that they should

see he was not so attached to love, but he could for some time give a

cessation to his heart, and that the envoy from the _Parisians_ might

return assured, that he would, as soon as he could put his affairs in

good order, come to their relief, and bring arms for those that had

none, with such friends as he could get together; he could not promise

numbers, lest by leading so many here, their design should take air,

but would wholly trust to fortune, and their good resolutions: he

demanded a sum of money of them for the buying these arms, and they

have promised him all aids. This is the last result of Council, which

broke immediately up; and the Prince retired to his closet, where he

was no sooner come, but reflecting on the necessity of leaving

_Hermione_, he fell into the most profound melancholy and musing that

could seize a man; while he sat thus, _Hermione_ (who had schooled

_Fergusano_ for his rough speech in Council, and desired he would now

take the opportunity to repair that want of respect, while the Prince

was to be spoken to alone) sent him into the closet to him; where he

found him walking with his arms a-cross, not minding the bard who

stood gazing on him, and at last called to him; and finding no reply,

he advanced, and pulling him gently by the arm, cried,--“Awake royal

young man, awake! and look up to coming greatness”--“I was

reflecting,” replied _Cesario_, “on all the various fortunes I have

passed, from the time of my birth to this present hapless day, and

would be glad to know if any supernatural means can tell me what

future events will befall me? If I believed I should not gain a crown

by this great enterprise I am undertaking, here I would lay me down in

silent ease, give up my toils and restless soul to love, and never

think on vain ambition more: ease thou my troubled mind, if thou hast

any friend among the Infernals, and they dare utter truth.” “My

gracious Prince,” replied the fawning wizard, “this night, if you dare

loose yourself from love, and come unattended to my apartment, I will

undertake to shew you all the future fortune you are to run, the

hazards, dangers, and escapes that attend your mighty race of life; I

will lay the adamantine Book before you, where all the destinies of

princes are hieroglyphick’d. I will shew you more, if hell can furnish

objects, and you dare stand untrembling at the terror of them.”

“Enough,” replied _Cesario_, “name me the hour.” “Betwixt twelve and

one,” said he; “for that is the sacred dismal time of night for fiends

to come, tombs to open and let loose their dead.--We shall have use of

both----” “No more,” replied _Cesario_, “I will attend them.” The

Prince was going out, when _Fergusano_ recalled him, and cried, “One

thing, sir, I must caution you, that from this minute to that, wherein

I shall shew you your destiny, you commit nothing unlawful with

women-kind.” “Away,” replied the Prince, smiling, “and leave your

canting.” The wizard, putting on a more grave countenance,

replied--“By all the Infernals, sir, if you commit unlawful things I

cannot serve you.” “If your devils,” replied the Prince, laughing, “be

so nice, I doubt I shall find them too honest for my purpose.” “Sir,”

said the subtle old fiend, “such conscientious devils Your Highness is

to converse with to-night; and if you discover the secret, it will I

not prove so lucky.” “Since they are so humorous,” cried _Cesario_, “I

will give them way for once.” And going out of the room, he went

directly to _Hermione_’. apartment; where, it being late, she is

preparing for bed, and with a thousand kisses, and hanging on his

neck, she asked him why he is so slow, and why he suffers not himself

to be undressed? He feigns a thousand excuses, at which she seems

extremely amazed; she complains, reproaches, and commands----He tells

her, he was to wait on the Governor about his most urgent affairs, and

was (late as it was) to consult with him: she asked him what affairs

he was to negotiate, of which she was not to bear her part? He refuses

to tell her, and she replied she had sense and courage for any

enterprise, and should resent it very ill, if she were not made

acquainted with it: but he swore I to her she should know all the

truth, as soon as he returned.

’.his pacified her in some measure, and at the hour appointed she

suffered him to go; and in a chair was carried to a little house

_Fergusano_ had taken without the town, to which belonged a large

garden, at the farther end of which was a thicket of unordered trees,

that surrounded the grotto, which I passed a good way under the

ground. It had had some rarities of water-work formerly belonging to

it, but now they were decayed; only here and there a broken rock let

out a little stream, that murmured and dashed upon the earth below,

and ran away in a little rivulet, which served to add a melancholy to

the dismal place: into this the Prince was conducted by the old

_German_, who assisted in the charm; they had only one torch to light

the way, which at the entrance of the cave they put out, and within

was only one glimmering lamp, that rather served to add to the horror

of the vault, discovering its hollowness and ruins. At his entrance,

he was saluted with a noise like the rushing of wind, which whizzed

and whistled in the mighty concave. Anon a more silent whispering

surrounded him, without being able to behold any creature save the old

_German_. Anon came in old _Fergusano_, who rolling a great stone,

that lay at one corner of the cave, he desired the Prince to place

himself on it, and not be surprised at any thing he should behold, nor

to stir from that enchanted ground; he, nodding, assented to obey,

while _Fergusano_ and the _German_, with each a wand in their hands,

struck against the unformed rocks that finished the end of the cave,

muttering a thousand incantations, with voices dreadful, and motions

antic; and, after a mighty stroke of thunder that shook the earth, the

rude rock divided, and opened a space that discovered a most

magnificent apartment; in which was presented a young hero, attended

with military officers; his pages dressing him for the field all in

gilded armour. The Prince began to doubt himself, and to swear in his

thought, that the apparition was himself, so very like he was to

himself, as if he had seen his proper figure in a glass. After this,

several persons seemed to address to this great man, of all sorts and

conditions, from the Prince to the peasant, with whom he seemed to

discourse with great confidence and affability; they offered him the

League, which he took and signed, and gave them back; they attend him

to the door with great joy and respect; but as soon as he was gone,

they laughed and pointed at him; at which the Prince infinitely

incensed, rose, and cried out, “What means all this; s’death, am I

become the scorn and mockery of the crowd?” _Fergusano_ besought him

to sit and have patience, and he obeyed, and checked himself. The

scene of the apartment being changed to an arbour of flowers, and the

prospect of a noble and ravishing garden, the hero is presented armed

as he was, only without his plume head-piece, kneeling at the feet of

a fair woman, in loose robes and hair, and attended with abundance of

little Loves, who disarm him by degrees of those ornaments of war.

While she caresses him with all the signs of love, the _Cupids_ made

garlands of flowers, and wreath round his arms and neck, crowning his

head, and fettering him all over in these sweet soft chains. They curl

his hair, and adorn him with all effeminacy while he lies smiling and

pleased,--the wanton boys disposing of his instruments of war as they

think fit, putting them to ridiculous uses, and laughing at them.

While thus he lay, there enter to him a great many statesmen, and

politicians; grave men in furs and chains, attended by the common

crowd; and opening a scene farther off in prospect, shew him crowns,

sceptres, globes, ensigns, arms, and trophies, promiscuously shuffled

together, with heaps of gold, jewels, parchments, records, charters

and seals; at which sight, he starts from the arms of the fair

_Medea_, and strove to have approached those who waited for him; but

she held him fast, and with abundance of tears and sighs of moving

flattery, brought him back to her arms again, and all dissatisfied the

promiscuous crowd depart, some looking back with scorn, others with

signs of rage: and all the scene of glory, of arms and crowns,

disappeared with the crowd. _Cesario_ wholly forgetting, cried out

again, “Ha! lost all for a trifling woman! Lost all those trophies of

thy conquest for a mistress! By heaven I will shake the charmer from

my soul, if both I cannot have.” When _Fergusano_ advancing to him,

cried--“See, sir, how supinely the young hero’s laid upon her downy

breast,” and smiled as he spoke, which angered the Prince, who replied

with scorn, “Now, by my life, a plot upon my love;” but they protested

it was not so, and begged he would be silent. While thus the hero lay,

regardless of his glory, all decked with flowers and bracelets, the

drums beat, and the trumpets were heard, or seemed to be heard to

sound, and a vast opening space was filled with armed warriors, who

offer him their swords, and seem to point at crowns that were borne

behind them; a while they plead in vain, and point to crowns in vain,

at which he only casts a scornful smile, and lays him down in the soft

arms of love. They urge again, but with one amorous look the _Circe_

more prevails than all their reasonings. At last, by force they

divested him of his rosy garlands, in which there lay a charm, and he

assumes new life, while others bore the enchantress out of his sight;

and then he suffered himself to be conducted where they pleased, who

led him forth, shewing him all the way a prospect of crowns. At this

_Cesario_ sighed, and the ceremony continued.

’.he scene changed, discovering a sea-shore, where the _hero_ is

represented landed, but with a very melancholy air, attended with

several officers and gentlemen; the earth seems to ring with joy and

loud acclamations at his approach; vast multitudes thronging to behold

him, and striving who first should kiss his hand; and bearing him

aloft in the air, carry him out of sight with peals of welcome and

joy.

’.e is represented next in Council and deep debate, and so disappears:

then soft music is heard, and he enters in the royal robe, with a

crown presented him on the knee, which he receives, and bows to all

the rabble and the numbers to give them thanks: he having in his hand

blue garters, with the order of St _Esprit_, which he distributes to

several persons on either hand; throwing ducal crowns and coronets

among the rabble, who scuffle and strive to catch at them: after a

great shout of joy, thunder and lightning again shook the earth; at

which they seemed all amazed, when a thick black cloud descended, and

covered the whole scene, and the rock closed again, and _Fergusano_

let fall his wand.

’.he Prince, seeing the ceremony end here, rises in a rage, and cries

out, “I charge you to go on----remove the veil, and let the sun

appear; advance your mystic wand, and shew what follows next.” “I

cannot, sir,” replied the trembling wizard, “the Fates have closed the

everlasting Book, forbidding farther search.” “Then damn your scanted

art,” replied the Prince, “a petty juggler could have done as much.”

“Is it not enough,” replied the _German_ rabbi, “that we have shewed

you crowned, and crowned in _France_ itself? I find the Infernals

themselves are bounded here, and can declare no more.” “Oh, they are

petty powers that can be bounded,” replied the Prince with scorn. They

strove with all their art to reconcile him, laying the fault on some

mistake of theirs, in the ingredients of the charm, which at another

time they would strive to prevent: they soothe him with all the hope

in the world, that what was left unrevealed must needs be as glorious

and fortunate to him, as what he had seen already, which was

absolutely to be depended on: thus they brought him to the open garden

again, where they continued their instructions to him, telling him,

that now was the time to arrive at all the glories he had seen; they

presented to him the state of affairs in _France_, and how much a

greater interest he had in the hearts of the people than their proper

monarch, arguing a thousand fallacies to the deluded hero, who blind

and mad with his dreams of glory, his visions and prospects, listened

with reverence and attention to all their false persuasions. I call

them false, madam, for I never had faith in those sort of people, and

am sorry so many great men and ladies of our time are so bewitched to

their prophecies. They there presented him with a list of all the

considerable of the Reformed Religion in _Paris_, who had assured him

aids of men and money in this expedition; merchants, rich tradesmen,

magistrates and gownmen of the Reformed Church and the law. Next to

this, another of the contribution of pious ladies; all which sums

being named, amounted to a considerable supply; so that they assured

him hell itself could not with these aids obstruct his glory, but on

the contrary, should be compelled to render him assistance, by the

help of charms, to make him invincible; so that wholly overcome by

them, he has given order that all preparations be forthwith made for

the most secret and speedy conveyance of himself and friends to some

sea-port in _France_; he has ordered abundance of letters to be writ

to those of the _Huguenot_ party in all parts of _France_; all which

will be ready to assist him at his landing. _Fergusano_ undertakes for

the management of the whole affair, to write, to speak, and to

persuade; and you know, madam, he is the most subtle and insinuating

of all his non-conforming race, and the most malignant of all our

party, and sainted by them for the most pious and industrious labourer

in the _Cause_; all that he says is oracle to the crowd, and all he

says authentic; and it is he alone is that great engine that sets the

great work a turning.’ ‘Yes,’ replied _Sylvia_, ‘and makes the giddy

world mad with his damnable notions.’ ‘Pernicious as he is,’ replied

_Brilliard_, ‘he has the sole management of affairs under _Hermione_;

he has power to treat, to advise, to raise money, to make and name

officers, and lastly, to draw out a scene of fair pretences for

_Cesario_ to the Crown of _France_, and the lawfulness of his claim;

for let the conquest be never so sure, the people require it, and the

conqueror is obliged to give some better reason than that of the

strength of his sword, for his dominion over them. This pretension is

a declaration, or rather a most scandalous, pernicious and treasonable

libel, if I may say so, who have so great an interest in it, penned

with all the malice envy can invent; the most unbred, rude piece of

stuff, as makes it apparent the author had neither wit nor common good

manners; besides the hellish principles he has made evident there. My

lord would have no hand in the approbation of this gross piece of

villainous scandal, which has more unfastened him from their interest,

than any other designs, and from which he daily more and more

declines, or seems disgusted with, though he does not wholly intend to

quit the interest; having no other probable means to make good that

fortune, which has been so evidently and wholly destroyed by it.’ ‘I

am extremely glad,’ said _Sylvia_,’.hat _Philander’s_ sentiments are

so generous, and am at nothing so much amazed, as to hear the Prince

could suffer so gross a thing to pass in his name.’ ‘I must,’ said

_Brilliard_,’.o the Prince right in this point, to assure you when the

thing was first in the rough draught shewed him, he told _Fergusano_,

that those accusations of a crowned head, were too villainous for the

thoughts of a gentleman; and giving it him again--cried--“No--let it

never be said, that the royal blood that runs in my veins, could

dictate to me no more noble ways for its defence and pretensions, than

the mean cowardice of lies; and that to attain to empire, I should

have recourse to the most detestable of all shifts. No, no, my too

zealous friend,” continued he, “I will, with only my sword in my hand,

at the head of my army proclaim my right, and demand a crown, which if

I win is mine; if not, it is his whose sword is better or luckier; and

though the future world may call this unjust, at least they will say

it was brave.” At this the wizard smiled, and replied, “Alas, sir, had

we hitherto acted by rules of generosity only, we had not brought so

great advantages to our interest. You tell me, sir, of a speech you

will make, with your sword in your hand, that will do very well at the

head of an army, and a handsome declaration would be proper for men of

sense; but this is not to the wise, but to the fools, on whom nothing

will pass, but what is penned to their capacity, and who will not be

able to hear the speeches you shall make to an army: this is to rouse

them, and find them wherever they are, how far remote soever from you,

that at once they may be incited to assist you, and espouse your

interest: this is the sort of gospel they believe; all other is too

fine: believe me, sir, it is by these gross devices you are to

persuade those sons of earth, whose spirits never mounted above the

dunghill, whence they grew like over-ripe pumpkins. Lies are the

spirit that inspires them, they are the very brandy that makes them

valiant; and you may as soon beat sense into their brains, as the very

appearance of truth; it is the very language of the scarlet beast to

them. They understand no other than their own, and he that does, knows

to what ends we aim. No matter, sir, what tools you work withal, so

the finished piece be fine at last. Look forward to the goal, a crown

attends it! and never mind the dirty road that leads to it.” ‘With

such false arguments as these, he wrought upon the easy nature of the

Prince, who ordered some thousands of them to be printed for their

being dispersed all over France, as soon as they should be landed:

especially among the _Parisians_, too apt to take any impressions that

bore the stamp and pretence of religion and liberty.

’.hile these and all other things necessary were preparing, _Cesario_,

wholly given over to love, being urged by _Hermione_ to know the

occasion of his last night’s absence, unravels all the secret, and

told my lord and her, one night at supper, the whole scene of the

_grotto_; so that _Hermione_, more than ever being puffed up with

ambitious thoughts, hastened to have the Prince pressed to marry her;

and consulting with the counsellor of her closest secrets, sets him

anew to work; swearing violently, that if he did not bring that design

about, she should be able, by her ascendancy over _Cesario_, to ruin

all those they had undertaken, and yet turn the Prince from the

enterprise; and that it was more to satisfy her ambition (to which

they were obliged for all the Prince had promised) that he had

undertaken to head an army, and put himself again into the hands of

the _Huguenots_, and forsake all the soft repose of love and life,

than for any inclination or ambition of his own; and that she who had

power to animate him one way, he might be assured had the same power

another. This she ended in very high language, with a look too fierce

and fiery to leave him any doubt of; and he promised all things should

be done as she desired, and that he would overcome the Prince, and

bring him absolutely under her power. “Not,” said she, with a scornful

look, “that I need your aid in this affair, or want of power of my own

to command it; but I will not have him look upon it as my act alone,

or a thing of my seeking, but by your advice shall be made to

understand it is for the good of the public; that having to do with a

sort of people of the Reformed Religion, whose pretences were more

nice than wise, more seemingly zealous than reasonable or just, they

might look upon the life she led the Prince as scandalous, that was

not justified by form, though never so unlawful.” A thousand things

she urged to him, who needed no instruction how to make that appear

authentic and just, however contrary to religion and sense: but, so

informed, he parted from her, and told her the event should declare

his zeal for her service, and so it did; for he no sooner spoke of it

to the Prince, but he took the hint as a divine voice; his very soul

flushed in his lovely cheeks, and all the fire of love was dancing in

his eyes: yet, as if he had feared what he wished could not handsomely

and lawfully be brought to pass, he asked a thousand questions

concerning it, all which the subtle wizard so well resolved, at least

in his judgement, who easily was convinced of what he wished, that he

no longer deferred his happiness, but that very night, in the visit he

made _Hermione_, fell at her feet, and implored her consent of what he

told her _Fergusano_ had fully convinced him was necessary for his

interest and glory, neither of which he could enjoy or regard, if she

was not the partner of them; and that when he should go to _France_,

and put himself in the field to demand a crown, he should do it with

absolute vigour and resolution, if she were to be seated as queen on

the same throne with him, without whom a cottage would be more

pleasant; and he could relish no joys that were not as entirely and

immediately hers as his own: he pleaded impatiently for what she

longed, and would have made her petition for, and all the while she

makes a thousand doubts and scruples only to be convinced and

confirmed by him; and after seeming fully satisfied, he led her into a

chamber (where _Fergusano_ waited, and only her woman, and his

faithful confidant _Tomaso_) and married her: since which, she has

wholly managed him with greater power than before; takes abundance of

state, is extremely elevated, I will not say insolent; and though they

do not make a public declaration of this, yet she owns it to all her

intimates; and is ever reproaching my lord with his lewd course of

life, wholly forgetting her own; crying out upon infamous women, as if

she had been all the course of her life an innocent.’

By this time dinner was ended, and _Sylvia_ urged _Brilliard_ to

depart with her letter; but he was extremely surprised to find it to

be to the Governor’s nephew _Don Alonzo_, who was his lord’s friend,

and who would doubtless give him an account of all, if he did not shew

him the billet: all these reasons could not dissuade this fickle

wanderer, whose heart was at that time set on this young inconstant,

at least her inclinations: he tells her that her life would be really

in danger, if _Philander_ comes to the knowledge of such an intrigue,

which could not possibly be carried on in that town without noise; she

tells him she is resolved to quit that false injurer of her fame and

beauty; who had basely abandoned her for other women of less merit,

even since she had pardoned him the crimes of love he committed at

_Cologne_; that while he was in the country with her during the time

of her lying-in, he had given himself to all that would receive him

there; that, since he came away, he had left no beauty unattempted;

and could he possibly imagine her of a spirit to bow beneath such

injuries? No, she would on to all the revenges her youth and beauty

were capable of taking, and stick at nothing that led to that

interest; and that if he did not join with her in her noble design she

would abandon him, and put herself wholly out of his protection: this

she spoke with a fierceness that made the lover tremble with fear of

losing her: he therefore told her she had reason; and that since she

was resolved, he would confess to her that _Philander_ was the most

perfidious creature in the world; and that _Hermione_, the haughty

_Hermione_, who hated naughty women, invited and treated all the

handsome ladies of the Court to balls, and to the Basset-table, and

made very great entertainments, only to draw to her interest all the

brave and the young men; and that she daily gained abundance by these

arts to _Cesario_, and above all strove by these amusements to engage

_Philander_, whom she perceived to grow cold in the great concern;

daily treating him with variety of beauty; so that there was no

gaiety, no gallantry, or play, but at _Hermione_’., whither all the

youth of both qualities repaired; and it was there the Governor’s

nephew was every evening to be found. ‘Possibly, madam, I had not told

you this, if the Prince’s bounty had not taken me totally off from

_Philander_; so that I have no other dependence on him, but that of my

respect and duty, out of perfect gratitude.’ After this, to gain

_Brilliard_ entirely, she assured him if his fortune were suitable to

her quality, and her way of life, she believed she should devote

herself to him; and though what she said were the least of her

thoughts, it failed not to flatter him agreeably, and he sighed with

grief that he could not engage her; all he could get was little enough

to support him fine, which he was always as any person of quality at

Court, and appeared as graceful, and might have had some happy minutes

with very fine ladies, who thought well of him. To salve this defect

of want of fortune, he told her he had received a command from

_Octavio_ to come to him about settling of a very considerable pension

upon her, and that he had at his investing put money into his aunt’s

hands, who was a woman of considerable quality, to be disposed of to

that charitable use; and that if she pleased to maintain her rest of

fame, and live without receiving love-visits from men, she might now

command that, which would be a much better and nobler support than

that from a lover, which would be transitory, and last but as long as

her beauty, or a less time, his love. To this she knew not what to

answer, but ready money being the joy of her heart, and the support of

her vanity, she seems to yield to this, having said so much before;

and she considered she wanted a thousand things to adorn her beauty,

being very expensive; she was impatient till this was performed, and

deferred the sending to _Don Alonzo_, though her thoughts were

perpetually on him. She, by the advice of _Brilliard_, writes a letter

to _Octavio_; which was not like those she had before written, but as

an humble penitent would write to a ghostly Father, treating him with

all the respect that was possible; and if ever she mentioned love, it

was as if her heart had violently, and against her will, burst out

into softness, as still she retained there; and then she would take up

again, and ask pardon for that transgression; she told him it was a

passion, which, though she could never extinguish for him, yet that it

should never warm her for another, but she would leave _Philander_ to

the world, and retire where she was not known, and try to make up her

broken fortunes; with abundance of things to this purpose, which he

carried to _Octavio_: he said he could have wished she would have

retired to a monastery, as all the first part of her letter had given

him hope; and resolved, and retired as he was, he could not read this

without extreme confusion and change of countenance. He asked

_Brilliard_ a thousand times whether he believed he might trust her,

or if she would abandon those ways of shame, that at last lost all: he

answered, he verily believed she would. ‘However,’ said _Octavio_, ‘it

is not my business to capitulate, but to believe and act all things,

for the interest and satisfaction of her whom I yet adore;’ and

without further delay, writ to his aunt, to present _Sylvia_ with

those sums he had left for her; and which had been sufficient to have

made her happy all the rest of her life, if her sins of love had not

obstructed it. However, she no sooner found herself mistress of so

considerable a sum, but in lieu of retiring, and ordering her affairs

so as to render it for ever serviceable to her, the first thing she

does, is to furnish herself with new coach and equipage, and to lavish

out in clothes and jewels a great part of it immediately; and was

impatient to be seen on the _Tour_, and in all public places; nor

could _Brilliard_ persuade the contrary, but against all good manners

and reason, she flew into most violent passions with him, till he had

resolved to give her her way; it happened that the first day she

shewed on the _Tour_, neither _Philander_, _Cesario_ nor _Hermione_

chanced to be there; so that at supper it was all the news, how

glorious a young creature was seen only with one lady, which was

_Antonet_, very well dressed, in the coach with her: every body that

made their court that night to _Hermione_ spoke of this new vision, as

the most extraordinary charmer that had ever been seen; all were that

day undone with love, and none could learn who this fair destroyer

was; for all the time of _Sylvia_’. being at _Brussels_ before, her

being big with child had kept her from appearing in all public places;

so that she was wholly a new face to all that saw her; and it is easy

to be imagined what charms that delicate person appeared with to all,

when dressed to such advantage, who naturally was the most beautiful

creature in the world, with all the bloom of youth that could add to

beauty. Among the rest that day that lost their hearts, was the

Governor’s nephew, who came into the Presence that night wholly

transported, and told _Hermione_ he died for the lovely charmer he had

that day seen; so that she, who was the most curious to gain all the

beauties to her side, that the men might be so too, endeavoured all

she could to find out where this beauty dwelt. _Philander_, now grown

the most amorous and gallant in the world, grew passionately in love

with the very description of her, not imagining it had been _Sylvia_,

because of her equipage: he knew she loved him, at least he thought

she loved him too well to conceal herself from him, or be in

_Brussels_, and not let him know it; so that wholly ravished with the

description of the imagined new fair one, he burnt with desire of

seeing her; and all this night was passed in discourse of this

stranger alone; the next day her livery being described to _Hermione_,

she sent two pages all about the town, to see if they could discover a

livery so remarkable; and that if they did, they should inquire of

them who they belonged to, and where that person’s lodging was. This

was not a very difficult matter to perform: _Brussels_ is not a large

place, and it was soon surveyed from one end to the other: at last

they met with two of her footmen, whom they saluted, and taking notice

of their livery, asked them who they belonged to? These lads were

strangers to the lady they served, and newly taken; and _Sylvia_ at

first coming, resolved to change her name, and was called Madame

de----, a name very considerable in _France_, which they told the

pages, and that she lived in such a place: this news _Hermione_ no

sooner heard, but she sends a gentleman in the name of the Prince and

herself to compliment her, and tell her she had the honour to know

some great persons of that name in _France_, and did not doubt but she

was related to them: she therefore sent to offer her her friendship,

which possibly in a strange place might not be unserviceable to her,

and that she should be extreme glad to see her at Court, that is, at

_Cesario_’. palace. The gentleman who delivered this message, being

surprised at the dazzling beauty of the fair stranger, was almost

unassured in his address, and the manner of it surprised _Sylvia_ no

less, to be invited as a strange lady by one that hated her; she could

not tell whether it were real, or a plot upon her; however she made

answer, and bid him tell Madam the Princess, which title she gave her,

that she received her compliment as the greatest honour that could

arrive to her, and that she would wait upon Her Highness, and let her

know from her own mouth the sense she had of the obligation. The

gentleman returned and delivered his message to _Hermione_; but so

altered in his look, so sad and unusual, that she took notice of it,

and asked him how he liked the new beauty: he blushed and bowed, and

told her she was a wonder----This made _Hermione_’. colour rise, it

being spoke before _Cesario_; for though she was assured of the hero’s

heart, she hated he should believe there was a greater beauty in the

world, and one universally adored. She knew not how so great a miracle

might work upon him, and began to repent she had invited her to Court.

In the mean time _Sylvia_, after debating what to do in this affair,

whether to visit _Hermione_ and discover herself, or to remove from

_Brussels_, resolved rather upon the last; but she had fixed her

design as to _Don Alonzo_, and would not depart the town. To her

former beginning flame for him was added more fuel; she had seen him

the day before on the _Tour_; she had seen him gaze at her with all

the impatience of love, with madness of passion in his eyes, ready to

fling himself out of the coach every time she passed by: and if he

appeared beautiful before, when in his riding dress, and harassed for

four nights together with love and want of sleep; what did he now

appear to her amorous eyes and heart? She had wholly forgot _Octavio_,

_Philander_ and all, and made a sacrifice of both to this new young

lover: she saw him with all the advantages of dress, magnificent as

youth and fortune could invent; and above all, his beauty and his

quality warmed her heart anew; and what advanced her flame yet

farther, was a vanity she had of fixing the dear wanderer, and making

him find there was a beauty yet in the world, that could put an end to

his inconstancy, and make him languish at her feet as long as she

pleased. Resolved on this new design, she defers it no longer; but as

soon as the persons of quality, who used to walk every evening in the

park, were got together, she accompanied with _Antonet_, and three or

four strange pages and footmen, went into the park, and dressed in

perfect glory. She had not walked long there before she saw _Don

Alonzo_, richer than ever in his habit, and more beautiful to her eyes

than any thing she had ever seen; he was gotten among the young and

fair, caressing, laughing, playing, and acting all the little

wantonnesses of youth. _Sylvia_’. blood grew disordered at this, and

she found she loved by her jealousy, and longs more than ever to have

the glory of vanquishing that heart, that so boasted of never having

yet been conquered. She therefore uses all her art to get him to look

at her; she passed by him often, and as often as she did so he viewed

her with pleasure; her shape, her air, her mien, had something so

charming, as, without the assistance of her face, she gained that

evening a thousand conquests; but those were not the trophies she

aimed at, it was _Alonzo_ was the marked-out victim, that she

destined for the sacrifice of love. She found him so engaged with

women of great quality, she almost despaired to get to speak to

him; her equipage which stood at the entrance of the park, not

being by her, he did not imagine this fine lady to be her he saw

on the _Tour_ last night; yet he looked at her so much, as gave

occasion to those he was with to rally him extremely, and tell him he

was in love with what he had not seen, and who might, notwithstanding

all that delicate appearance, be ugly when her mask was off. _Sylvia_,

however, still passed on with abundance of sighing lovers after her,

some daring to speak, others only languishing; to all she would

vouchsafe no word, but made signs, as if she were a stranger, and

understood them not; at last _Alonzo_, wholly impatient, breaks from

these ralliers, and gets into the crowd that pursued this lovely

unknown: her heart leaped when he approached her, and the first thing

she did was to pull off her glove, and not only shew the fairest hand

that ever nature made, but that ring on her finger _Alonzo_ gave her

when they parted at the village. The hand alone was enough to invite

all eyes with pleasure to look that way; but _Alonzo_ had a double

motive, he saw the hand with love, and the ring with jealousy and

surprise; and as it is natural in such cases, the very first thought

that possessed him was, that the young _Bellumere_ (for so _Sylvia_

had called herself at the village) was a lover of this lady, and had

presented her this ring. And after his sighings and little pantings,

that seized him at this thought, would give him leave, he bowing and

blushing cried--’Madam, the whole piece must be excellent, when the

pattern is so very fine.’ And humbly begging the favour of a nearer

view, he took her hand and kissed it with a passionate eagerness,

which possibly did not so well please _Sylvia_, because she did not

think he took her for the same person, to whom he shewed such signs of

love last night. In taking her hand he surveyed the ring, and

cried,--’Madam, would to heaven I could lay so good a claim to this

fair hand, as I think I once could to this ring, which this hand

adorns and honours.’ ‘How, sir,’ replied _Sylvia_, ‘I hope you will

not charge me with felony?’ ‘I am afraid I shall,’ replied he sighing,

’.or you have attacked me on the King’s high-way, and have robbed me

of a heart:’ ‘I could never have robbed a person,’ said _Sylvia_, ‘who

could more easily have parted with that trifle; the next fair object

will redeem it, and it will be very little the worse for my using.’

’.h Madam,’ replied he sighing, ‘that will be according as you will

treat it; for I find already you have done it more damage, than it

ever sustained in all the rencounters it has had with love and

beauty.’ ‘You complain too soon,’ replied _Sylvia_, smiling, ‘and you

ought to make a trial of my good nature, before you reproach me with

harming you.’ ‘I know not,’ replied _Alonzo_ sighing, ‘what I may

venture to hope from that; but I am afraid, from your inclinations, I

ought to hope for nothing, since a thousand reasonable jealousies

already possess me, from the sight of that ring; and I more than doubt

I have a powerful rival, a youth of the most divine form, I ever met

with of his sex; if from him you received it, I guess my fate.’ ‘I

perceive, stranger,’ said _Sylvia_, ‘you begin to be inconstant

already, and find excuses to complain on your fate before you have

tried your fortune. I persuade myself that fine person you speak of,

and to whom you gave this ring, has so great a value for you, that to

leave you no excuse, I assure you, he will not be displeased to find

you a rival, provided you prove a very constant lover.’ ‘I confess,’

said _Alonzo_, ‘constancy is an imposition I never yet had the

confidence and ill nature to impose on the fair; and indeed I never

found that woman yet, of youth and beauty, that ever set so small a

value on her own charms, to be much in love with that dull virtue, and

require it of my heart; but, upon occasion, madam, if such an

unreasonable fair one be found’----’I am extremely sorry’ (interrupted

_Sylvia_) ‘to find you have no better way of recommending yourself;

this will be no great encouragement to a person of my humour to

receive your address.’ ‘Madam, I do not tell you that I am not in my

nature wondrous constant,’ replied he; ‘I tell you only what has

hitherto happened to me, not what will; that I have yet never been so,

is no fault of mine, but power or truth in those beauties, to whom I

have given my heart; rather believe they wanted charms to hold me,

than that I, (where wit and beauty engaged me) should prove so false

to my own pleasure. I am very much afraid, madam, if I find my eyes as

agreeably entertained when I shall have the honour to see your face,

as my ears are with your excellent wit, I shall be reduced to that

very whining, sighing coxcomb, you like so well in a lover, and be

ever dying at your feet. I have but one hope left to preserve myself

from this wretched thing you women love; that is, that I shall not

find you so all over charming, as what I have hitherto found presents

itself to be. You have already created love enough in me for any

reasonable woman, but I find you are not to be approached with the

common devotions we pay your sex; but, like your beauty, the passion

too must be great, and you are not content unless you see your lovers

die; this is that fatal proof alone that can satisfy you of their

passion. And though you laugh to see a Sir _Courtly Nice_, a fop in

fashion acted on the stage; in your hearts that foolish thing, that

fine neat pasquil, is your darling, your fine gentleman, your

well-bred person.’

Thus sometimes in jest, and sometimes in earnest, they recommended

themselves to each other, and to so great a degree, that it was

impossible for them to be more charmed on either side, which lasted

’.ill it was time to depart; but he besought her not to do so, ‘till

she had informed him where he might wait on her, and most passionately

solicit, what she as passionately desired: ‘To tell you truth,’ said

she, ‘I cannot permit you that freedom without you ask it of

_Bellumere_.’ He replied, ‘Next to waiting on her, he should be the

most overjoyed in the world, to pay his respects to that young

gentleman.’ However, to name him, gave him a thousand fears; which

when he would have urged, she bid him trust to the generosity of that

man, who was of quality, and loved him; she then told him his lodgings

(which were her own): _Alonzo_, infinitely overjoyed, resolved to lose

no time, but promised that evening to visit him: and at their parting,

he treated her with so much passionate respect, that she was vexed to

see it paid to one he yet knew not. However, she verily believed her

conquest was certain: he having seen her three times, and all those

times for a several person, and yet was still in love with her; and

she doubted not, when all three were joined in one, he would be much

more in love than yet he had been; with this assurance they parted.

_Sylvia_ was no sooner got home, but she resolved to receive _Alonzo_,

who she was assured would come: she hasted to dress herself in a very

rich suit of man’s clothes, to receive him as the young _French_

gentleman. She believed _Brilliard_ would not come ‘till late, as was

his use, now being at play at _Hermione_’.. She looked extreme pretty

when she was dressed, and had all the charms that heaven could adorn a

face and shape withal: her apartment was very magnificent, and all

looked very great. She was no sooner dressed, but the young lover

came. _Sylvia_ received him on the stair-case with open arms, and all

the signs of joy that could be expressed, and led him to a rich

drawing-room, where she began to entertain him with that happy night’s

adventure; when they both lay together at the village; while _Alonzo_

makes imperfect replies, wholly charmed with the look of the young

cavalier, which so resembled what he had seen the day before in

another garb on the _Tour_. He is wholly ravished with his voice, it

being absolutely the same, that had charmed him that day in the park;

the more he gazed and listened, the more he was confirmed in his

opinion, that he was the same, and he had the music of that dear

accent still in his ears, and could not be deceived. A thousand times

he is about to kneel before her, and ask her pardon, but still is

checked by doubt: he sees, he hears, this is the same lovely youth,

who lay in bed with him at the village _cabaret_; and then no longer

thinks her woman: he hears and sees it is the same face, and voice,

and hands he saw on the _Tour_, and in the park, and then believes her

woman: while he is in these perplexities, _Sylvia_, who with vanity

and pride perceived his disorder, taking him in her arms, cried,

’.ome, my _Alonzo_, that you shall no longer doubt but I am perfectly

your friend, I will shew you a sister of mine, whom you will say is a

beauty, or I am too partial, and I will have your judgement of her.’

With that she called to _Antonet_ to beg her lady would permit her to

bring a young stranger to kiss her hand. The maid, instructed,

retires, and _Alonzo_ stood gazing on _Sylvia_ as one confounded and

amazed, not knowing yet how to determine; he now begins to think

himself mistaken in the fair youth, and is ready to ask his pardon for

a fault but imagined, suffering by his silence the little prattler to

discourse and laugh at him at his pleasure. ‘Come,’ said _Sylvia_

smiling, ‘I find the naming a beauty to you has made you melancholy;

possibly when you see her she will not appear so to you; we do not

always agree in one object.’ ‘Your judgement,’ replied _Alonzo_, ‘is

too good to leave me any hope of liberty at the sight of a fine woman;

if she be like yourself I read my destiny in your charming face.’

_Sylvia_ answered only with a smile--and calling again for _Antonet_,

she asked if her sister were in a condition of being seen; she told

her she was not, but all undressed and in her night-clothes; ‘Nay

then,’ said _Sylvia_, ‘I must use my authority with her:’ and leaving

_Alonzo_ trembling with expectation, she ran to her dressing-room,

where all things were ready, and slipping off her coat put on a rich

night-gown, and instead of her peruke, fine night-clothes, and came

forth to the charmed _Alonzo_, who was not able to approach her, she

looked with such a majesty, and so much dazzling beauty; he knew her

to be the same he had seen on the _Tour_. She, (seeing he only gazed

without life or motion) approaching him, gave him her hand, and

cried--’Sir, possibly this is a more old acquaintance of yours than my

face.’ At which he blushed and bowed, but could not speak: at last

_Sylvia_, laughing out-right, cried--’Here, _Antonet_, bring me again

my peruke, for I find I shall never be acquainted with _Don Alonzo_ in

petticoats.’ At this he blushed a thousand times more than before, and

no longer doubted but this charmer, and the lovely youth were one; he

fell at her feet, and told her he was undone, for she had made him

give her so indisputable proofs of his dullness, he could never hope

she should allow him capable of eternally adoring her. ‘Rise,’ cried

_Sylvia_ smiling, ‘and believe you have not committed so great an

error, as you imagine; the mistake has been often made, and persons of

a great deal of wit have been deceived.’ ‘You may say what you

please,’ replied _Alonzo_, ‘to put me in countenance; but I shall

never forgive myself the stupidity of that happy night, that laid me

by the most glorious beauty of the world, and yet afforded me no kind

instinct to inform my soul how much I was blest: oh pity a

wretchedness, divine maid, that has no other excuse but that of

infatuation; a thousand times my greedy ravished eyes wandered over

the dazzling brightness of yours; a thousand times I wished that

heaven had made you woman! and when I looked, I burnt; but, when I

kissed those soft, those lovely lips, I durst not trust my heart; for

every touch begot wild thoughts about it; which yet the course of all

my fiery youth, through all the wild debauches I had wandered, had

never yet betrayed me to; and going to bed with all this love and fear

about me, I made a solemn oath not to approach you, lest so much

beauty had overcome my virtue. But by this new discovery, you have

given me a flame, I have no power nor virtue to oppose: it is just, it

is natural to adore you; and not to do it, were a greater than my sin

of dullness; and since you have made me lose a charming friend, it is

but just I find a mistress; give me but your permission to love, and I

will give you all my life in service, and wait the rest: I will watch

and pray for coming happiness; which I will buy at any price of life

or fortune.’ ‘Well, sir,’ replied our easy fair one; ‘if you believe

me worth a conquest over you, convince me you can love; for I am no

common beauty to be won with petty sudden services; and could you lay

an empire at my feet, I should despise it where the heart were

wanting.’ You may believe the amorous youth left no argument to

convince her in that point unsaid; and it is most certain they came to

so good an understanding, that he was not seen in _Brussels_ for eight

days and nights after, nor this rare beauty, for so long a time, seen

on the _Tour_ or any public place. _Brilliard_ came every day to visit

her, and receive her commands, as he used to do, but was answered

still that _Sylvia_ was ill, and kept her chamber, not suffering even

her domestics to approach her: this did not so well satisfy the

jealous lover, but he soon imagined the cause, and was very much

displeased at the ill treatment; if such a design had been carried on,

he desired to have the management of it, and was angry that _Sylvia_

had not only deceived him in the promise he had made for her to

_Octavio_, but had done her own business without him: he spoke some

hard words; so that to undeceive him she was forced to oblige _Alonzo_

to appear at Court again; which she had much ado to incline him to, so

absolutely she had charmed him; however he went, and she suffered

_Brilliard_ to visit her, persuading that easy lover (as all lovers

are easy) that it was only indisposition, that hindered her of the

happiness of seeing him; and after having perfectly reconciled herself

to him, she asked him the news at _Hermione_’., to whom, I had forgot

to tell you, she sent every day a page with a compliment, and to let

her know she was ill, or she should have waited on her: she every day

received the compliment from her again, as an unknown lady.

_Brilliard_ told her that all things were now prepared, and in a very

short time they should go for _France_; but that whatever the matter

was, _Philander_ almost publicly disowned the Prince’s interest, and

to some very considerable of the party has given out, he does not like

the proceedings, and that he verily believed they would find

themselves all mistaken; and that instead of a throne the Prince would

meet a scaffold; ‘so bold and open he has been. Something of it has

arrived to the Prince’s ear, who was so far from believing it, that he

could hardly be persuaded to speak of it to him; and when he did, it

was with an assurance before-hand, that he did not credit such

reports. So that he gives him not the pain to deny them: for my part I

am infinitely afraid he will disoblige the Prince one day; for last

night, when the Prince desired him to get his equipage ready, and to

make such provision for you as was necessary, he coldly told him he

had a mind to go to _Vienna_, which at that time was besieged by

_Solyman_ the Magnificent, and that he had no inclination of returning

to _France_. This surprised and angered the Prince; but they parted

good friends at last, and he has promised him all things: so that I am

very well assured he will send me where he supposes you still are; and

how shall we manage that affair?’

_Sylvia_, who had more cunning and subtleness than all the rest of her

sex, thought it best to see _Philander_, and part with him on as good

terms as she could, and that it was better he should think he yet had

the absolute possession of her, than that he should return to _France_

with an ill opinion of her virtue; as yet he had known no guilt of

that kind, nor did he ever more than fear it with _Octavio_; so that

it would be easy for her to cajole him yet a little longer, and when

he was gone, she should have the world to range in, and possess this

new lover, to whom she had promised all things, and received from him

all assurances imaginable of inviolable love: in order to this then

she consulted with _Brilliard_; and they resolved she should for a few

days leave _Antonet_ with her equipage, at that house where she was,

and retire herself to the village where _Philander_ had left her, and

where he still imagined she was: she desired _Brilliard_ to give her a

day’s time for this preparation, and it should be so. He left her, and

going to _Hermione_’., meets _Philander_, who immediately gave him

orders to go to _Sylvia_ the next morning, and let her know how all

things went, and tell her, he would be with her in two days. In the

mean time _Sylvia_ sent for _Alonzo_, who was but that evening gone

from her. He flies on the wings of love, and she tells him, she is

obliged to go to a place six or seven days’ journey off, whither he

could not conduct her, for reasons she would tell him at her return:

whatever he could plead with all the force of love to the contrary,

she gets his consent, with a promise wholly to devote herself to him

at her return, and pleased she sent him from her, when _Brilliard_

returning told her the commands he had; and it was concluded they

should both depart next morning, accompanied only by her page. I am

well assured she was very kind to _Brilliard_ all that journey, and

which was but too visible to the amorous youth who attended them; so

absolutely had she depraved her reason, from one degree of sin and

shame to another; and he was happy above any imagination, while even

her heart was given to another, and when she could propose no other

interest in this looseness, but security, that _Philander_ should not

know how ill she had treated him. In four days _Philander_ came, and

finding _Sylvia_ more fair than ever, was anew pleased; for she

pretended to receive him with all the joy imaginable, and the deceived

lover believed, and expressed abundance of grief at the being obliged

to part from her; a great many vows and tears were lost on both sides,

and both believed true: but the grief of _Brilliard_ was not to be

conceived; he could not persuade himself he could live, when absent

from her: some bills _Philander_ left her, and was so plain with her,

and open-hearted, he told her that he went indeed with _Cesario_, but

it was in order to serve the King; that he was weary of their actions,

and foresaw nothing but ruin would attend them; that he never repented

him of any thing so much, as his being drawn in to that faction; in

which he found himself so greatly involved, he could not retire with

any credit; but since self-preservation was the first principle of

nature, he had resolved to make that his aim, and rather prove false

to a party, who had no justice and honour on their side, than to a

King, whom all the laws of heaven and earth obliged him to serve;

however, he was so far in the power of these people, that he could not

disengage himself without utter ruin to himself; but that as soon as

he was got into _France_, he would abandon their interest, let the

censuring world say what it would, who never had right notions of

things, or ever made true judgements of men’s actions.

He lived five or six days with _Sylvia_ there; in which time she

failed not to assure him of her constant fidelity a thousand ways,

especially by vows that left no doubt upon his heart; and it was now

that they both indeed found there was a very great friendship still

remaining at the bottom of their hearts for each other, nor did they

part without manifold proofs of it. _Brilliard_ took a sad and

melancholy leave of her, and had not the freedom to tell her aloud,

but obliged to depart with his lord, they left _Sylvia_, and posted to

_Brussels_, where they found the Prince ready to depart, having left

_Hermione_ to her women more than half dead. I have heard there never

was so sad a parting between two lovers; a hundred times they swooned

with the apprehension of the separation in each other’s arms, and at

last the Prince was forced from her while he left her dead, and was

little better himself: he would have returned, but the officers and

people about him, who had espoused his quarrel, would by no means

suffer him: and he has a thousand times told a person very near him,

that he had rather have forfeited all his hoped-for glory, than have

left that charmer of his soul. After he had taken all care imaginable

for _Hermione_, for that name so dear to him was scarce ever out of

his mouth, he suffered himself with a heavy heart and pace to be

conducted to the vessel: and I have heard he was hardly seen to smile

all the little voyage, or his whole life after, or do any thing but

sigh, and sometimes weep, which was a very great discouragement to all

that followed him; they were a great while at sea, tossed to and fro

by stress of weather, and often driven back to the shore where they

first took shipping; and not being able to land where they first

designed, they got ashore in a little harbour, where no ship of any

bigness could anchor; so that with much ado, getting all their arms

and men on shore, they sunk the ship, both to secure any from flying,

and that it might not fall into the hands of the _French_. _Cesario_

was no sooner on the _French_ shore, but numbers came to him of the

_Huguenot_ party, for whom he had arms, and who wanted them he

furnished as far as he could, and immediately proclaimed himself King

of _France_ and _Navarre_, while the dirty crowd rang him peals of

joy. But though the under world came in great crowds to his aid, he

wanted still the main supporters of his cause, the men of substantial

quality: if the ladies could have composed an army, he would not have

wanted one, for his beauty had got them all on his side, and he

charmed the fair wheresoever he rode.

He marched from town to town without any opposition, proclaiming

himself king in all the places he came to; still gathering as he

marched, till he had composed a very formidable army. He made officers

of the kingdom--_Fergusano_ was to have been a cardinal, and several

lords and dukes were nominated; and he found no opposition in all his

prosperous course.--In the mean time the royal army was not idle,

which was composed of men very well disciplined, and conducted by

several princes and men of great quality and conduct. But as it is not

the business of this little history to treat of war, but altogether

love; leaving those rougher relations to the chronicles and

historiographers of those times, I will only hint on such things in

this enterprise, as are most proper for my purpose, and tell you, that

_Cesario_ omitted nothing for the carrying on his great design; he

dispersed his scandals all over _France_, though they met with an

obstruction at _Paris_, and were immediately suppressed, it being

proclaimed death for any person to keep one in their houses; and if

any should by chance come to their hands, they were on this penalty to

carry them to the Secretary of State; and after the punishment had

passed on two or three offenders, it deterred the rest from meddling

with those edge tools: I must tell you also, that the title of king,

which _Cesario_ had taken so early upon him, was much against his

inclinations; and he desired to see himself at the head of a more

satisfiable army, before he would take on him a title he found (in the

condition he was in) he should not defend; but those about him

insinuated to him, that it was the title that would not only make him

more venerable, but would make his cause appear more just and lawful;

and beget him a perfect adoration with those people who lived remote

from Courts, and had never seen that glorious thing called a king. So

that believing it would give nerves to the cause, he unhappily took

upon him that which ruined him; for he had often sworn to the greatest

part of those of any quality, of his interest, that his design was

liberty only, and that his end was the public good, so infinitely

above his own private interest, that he desired only the honour of

being the champion for the oppressed _Parisians_, and people of

_France_; that if they would allow him to lead their armies, to fight

and spend his dearest blood for them, it was all the glory he aimed

at: it was this pretended humility in a person of his high rank that

cajoled the _mobile_, who looked on him as their god, their deliverer,

and all that was sacred and dear to them; but the wiser sort regarded

him only as one that had most power and pretension to turn the whole

affairs of _France_, which they disliking, were willing at any price,

to reduce to their own conditions, and to what they desired; not

imagining he would have laid a claim to the Crown, which many of them

fancied themselves as capable of as himself, rather that he would

perhaps have set up the King of _Navarre_. This _Cesario_ knew; and

understanding their sentiments, was unwilling to hinder their joining

with him, by such a declaration, which he knew would be a means to

turn abundance of hearts against him, as indeed it fell out; and he

found himself master of some few towns, only with an army of fifteen

or sixteen thousand peasants, ill armed, unused to war, watchings, and

very ill lodging in the field, very badly victualled, and worse paid.

For, from _Paris_ no aids of any kind could be brought him; the roads

all along being so well guarded and secured by the royal forces, and

wanting some great persons to espouse his quarrel, made him not only

despair of success, but highly resent it of those, who had given him

so large promises of aid. Many, as I said, and most were disgusted

with his title of king; but some waited the success of his first

battle; which was every day expected, though _Cesario_ kept himself as

clear of the royal army as he could a long time, marching away as soon

as they drew near, hoping by these means, not only to tire them out,

and watch an advantage when to engage, but gather still more numbers.

So that the greatest mischief he did was teasing the royal army, who

could never tell where to have him, so dexterous he was in marching

off. They often came so near, as to have skirmishes with one another

by small parties, where some few men would fall on both sides: and to

say truth, _Cesario_ in this expedition shewed much more of a soldier

than the politician: his skill was great, his conduct good, expert in

advantages, and indefatigable in toils. And I have heard it from the

mouth of a gentleman, who in all that undertaking never was from him,

that in seven or eight weeks that he was in arms, he never absolutely

undressed himself, and hardly slept an hour in the four and twenty;

and that sometimes he was on his horse’s back, in a chariot, or on the

ground, suffering even with the meanest of his soldiers all the

fatigues of the enterprise: this gentleman told me he would, in those

hours he should sleep, and wherein he was not taking measures and

councils, (which were always held in the night) that he would be

eternally speaking to him of _Hermione_; and that with the softest

concern, it was possible for love and tenderest passion to express.

That he being the only friend he could repose so great a weakness in,

and who soothed him to the degree he wished, the Prince was so well

pleased with him, as to establish him a colonel of horse, for no other

merit than that of having once served _Hermione_, and now would

flatter his disease agreeably: and though he did so, he protested he

was ashamed to hear how this poor fond concern rendered this great

man, and he has often pitied what should have been else admired; but

who can tell the force of love, backed by charms supernatural? And who

is it that will not sigh, at the fate of so illustrious a young man,

whom love had rendered the most miserable of all those numbers he led?

But now the royal army, as if they had purposely suffered him to take

his tour about the country, to ensnare him with the more facility, had

at last, by new forces that came to their assistance daily, so

encompassed him, that it was impossible for him to avoid any longer

giving them battle; however, he had the benefit of posting himself the

most advantageously that he could wish; he had the rising grounds to

place his cannon, and all things concurred to give him success; his

numbers exceeding those of the royal army: not but he would have

avoided a set battle, if it had been possible, till he had made

himself master of some places of stronger hold; for yet, as I said, he

had only subdued some inconsiderable places which were not able to

make defence; and which as soon as he was marched out, surrendered

again to their lawful prince; and pulling down his proclamation, put

up those of the King: but he was on all sides so embarrassed, he could

not come even to parly with any town of note; so that, as I said, at

last, being as it were blocked up, though the royal army did not offer

him battle: three nights they lay thus in view of each other; the

first night the Prince sent out his scouts, who brought him

intelligence, that the enemy was not so well prepared for battle, as

they feared they might be, if they imagined the Prince would engage

them, but he had so often given them the slip, that they believed he

had no mind to put the fortune of the day to the push; and they were

glad of these delays, that new forces might advance. When the scouts

returned with this news, the Prince was impatient to fall upon the

enemy, but _Fergusano_, who was continually taking counsel of his

charms, and looking into his black Book of Fate, for every sally and

step they made, persuaded His Highness to have a little patience;

positively assuring him his fortune depended on a critical minute,

which was not yet come; and that if he offered to give battle before

the change of the moon, he was inevitably lost, and that the

attendance of that fortunate moment would be the beginning of those of

his whole life: with such like positive persuasions he gained upon the

Prince, and overcame his impatience of engaging for that night, all

which he passed in counsel, without being persuaded to take any rest,

often blaming the nicety of their art, and his stars; and often

asking, if they lost that opportunity that fortune had now given them,

whether all their arts, or stars, or devils, could retrieve it? And

nothing would that night appease him, or dispossess the sorcerers of

this opinion.

The next day they received certain intelligence, that a considerable

supply would reinforce the royal army under the conduct of a Prince of

the Blood; which were every moment expected: this news made the Prince

rave, and he broke out into all the rage imaginable against the

wizards, who defended themselves with all the reasons of their art,

but it was all in vain, and he vowed he would that night engage the

enemy, if he found but one faithful friend to second him, though he

died in the attempt; that he was worn out with the toils he had

undergone; harassed almost to death, and would wait no longer the

approach of his lazy fate, but boldly advancing, meet it, what face so

ever it bore. They besought him on their knees, he would not overthrow

the glorious design, so long in bringing to perfection, just in the

very minute of happy projection; but to wait those certain Fates, that

would bring him glory and honour on their wings; and who, if slighted,

would abandon him to destruction; it was but some few hours more, and

then they were his own, to be commanded by him: it was thus they

drilled and delayed him on till night; when again he sent out his

scouts to discover the posture of the enemy; and himself in the mean

time went to Council. _Philander_ failed not to be sent for thither,

who sometimes feigned excuses to keep away, and when he did come, he

sat unconcerned, neither giving or receiving any advice. This was

taken notice of by all, but _Cesario_, who looked upon it as being

overwatched, and fatigued with the toils of the day; his sullenness

did not pass so in the opinion of the rest; they saw, or at least

thought they saw, some other marks of discontent in his fine eyes,

which love so much better became. One of the Prince’s officers, and

Captain of his Guard, who was an old hereditary rogue, and whose

father had suffered in rebellion before, a fellow rough and daring,

comes boldly to the Prince when the Council rose, and asked him, if he

were resolved to engage? He told him, he was. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘give

me leave to shoot _Philander_ in the head.’ This blunt proposition

given, without any manner of reason or circumstance, made the Prince

start back a step or two, and ask him his meaning of what he said.

’.ir,’ replied the Captain, ‘if you will be safe, _Philander_ must

die; for however it appear to Your Highness, to all the camp he shows

the traitor, and it is more than doubted, he and the King of _France_,

understand one another but too well: therefore, if you would be

victor, let him be dispatched, and I myself will undertake it.’

’.old,’ said the Prince, ‘if I could believe what you say to be true,

I should not take so base a revenge; I would fight like a soldier, and

he should be treated like a man of honour.’ ‘Sir,’ said _Vaneur_, for

that was the Captain’s name; ‘do not, in the circumstances we are now

in, talk of treating (with those that would betray us) like men of

honour; we cannot stand upon decency in killing, who have so many to

dispatch; we came not into _France_ to fight duels, and stand on nice

punctilios: I say, we must make quick work, and I have a good pistol,

charged with two handsome bullets, that shall, as soon as he appears

amongst us on horseback, do his business as genteelly as can be, and

rid you of one of the most powerful of your enemies.’ To this the

Prince would by no means agree; not believing one syllable of the

accusation. _Vaneur_ swore then that he would not draw a sword for his

service, while _Philander_ was suffered to live; and he was as good as

his word. He said, in going out, that he would obey the Prince, but he

begged his pardon, if he did not lift a hand on his side; and in an

hour after sent him his commission, and waited on him, and was with

him almost till the last, in all the danger, but would not fight,

having made a solemn vow. Several others were of _Vaneur_’. opinion,

but the Prince believed nothing of it; _Philander_ being indeed, as he

said, weary of the design and party, and regarded them as his ruiners,

who with fair pretences drew him into a bad cause; which his youth had

not then considered, and from which he could not untangle himself.

By this time, the scout was come back, who informed the Prince that

now was the best time in the world to attack the enemy, who all lay

supinely in their tents, and did not expect a surprise: that the very

out-guards were slender, and that it would not be hard to put them to

a great deal of confusion. The Prince, who was enough impatient

before, now was all fire and spirit, and it was not in the power of

magic to withhold him; but hasting immediately to horse, with as much

speed as possible, he got at the head of his men; and marching on

directly to the enemy, put them into so great a surprise, that it may

be admired how they got themselves into a condition of defence; and,

to make short of a business that was not long in acting, I may avow,

nothing but the immediate hand of the Almighty, (who favours the

juster side, and is always ready for the support of those, who

approach so near his own divinity; sacred and anointed heads) could

have turned the fortune of the battle to the royal side: it was

prodigious to consider the unequal numbers, and the advantage all on

the Prince’s part; it was miraculous to behold the order on his side,

and surprise on the other, which of itself had been sufficient to have

confounded them; yet notwithstanding all this unpreparedness on this

side, and the watchfulness and care on the other; so well the general

and officers of the royal army managed their scanted time, so bravely

disciplined and experienced the soldiers were, so resolute and brave,

and all so well mounted and armed, that, as I said, to a miracle they

fought, and it was a miracle they won the field: though that fatal

night _Cesario_ did in his own person wonders; and when his horse was

killed under him, he took a partisan, and as a common soldier, at the

head of his foot, acted the _hero_ with as much courage and bravery,

as ever _Caesar_ himself could boast; yet all this availed him

nothing: he saw himself abandoned on all sides, and then under the

covert of the night, he retired from the battle, with his sword in his

hand, with only one page, who fought by his side: a thousand times he

was about to fall on his own sword, and like _Brutus_ have finished a

life he could no longer sustain with glory: but love, that coward of

the mind, and the image of divine _Hermione_, as he esteemed her,

still gave him love to life; and while he could remember she yet lived

to charm him, he could even look with contempt on the loss of all his

glory; at which, if he repined, it was for her sake, who expected to

behold him return covered over with laurels. In these sad thoughts he

wandered as long as his wearied legs would bear him, into a low

forest, far from the camp; where, over-pressed with toil, all over

pain, and a royal heart even breaking with anxiety, he laid him down

under the shelter of a tree, and found but his length of earth left to

support him now, who, not many hours before, beheld himself the

greatest monarch, as he imagined, in the world. Oh who, that had seen

him thus; which of his most mortal enemies, that had viewed the royal

youth, adorned with all the charms of beauty, heaven ever distributed

to man; born great, and but now adored by all the crowding world with

hat and knee; now abandoned by all, but one kind trembling boy weeping

by his side, while the illustrious _hero_ lay gazing with melancholy

weeping eyes, at those stars that had lately been so cruel to him;

sighing out his great soul to the winds, that whistled round his

uncovered head; breathing his griefs as silently as the sad fatal

night passed away; where nothing in nature seemed to pity him, but the

poor wretched youth that kneeled by him, and the sighing air: I say,

who that beheld this, would not have scorned the world, and all its

fickle worshippers? Have cursed the flatteries of vain ambition, and

prized a cottage far above a throne? A garland wreathed by some fair

innocent hand, before the restless glories of a crown?

Some authors, in the relation of this battle, affirm, that _Philander_

quitted his post as soon as the charge was given, and sheered off from

that wing he commanded; but all historians agree in this point, that

if he did, it was not for want of courage; for in a thousand

encounters he has given sufficient proofs of as much bravery as a man

can be capable of: but he disliked the cause, disapproved of all their

pretensions, and looked upon the whole affair and proceeding to be

most unjust and ungenerous; and all the fault his greatest enemies

could charge him with was, that he did not deal so gratefully with a

prince that loved him and trusted him; and that he ought frankly to

have told him, he would not serve him in this design; and that it had

been more gallant to have quitted him that way, than this; but there

are so many reasons to be given for this more politic and safe deceit,

than are needful in this place, and it is most certain, as it is the

most justifiable to heaven and man, to one born a subject of _France_,

and having sworn allegiance to his proper king, to abandon any other

interest; so let the enemies of this great man say what they please,

if a man be obliged to be false to this or that interest, I think no

body of common honesty, sense and honour, will dispute which he ought

to abandon; and this is most certain, that he did not forsake him

because fortune did so, as this one instance may make appear. When

_Cesario_ was first proclaimed king, and had all the reason in the

world to believe that fortune would have been wholly partial to him,

he offered _Philander_ his choice of any principality and government

in _France_, and to have made him of the Order of _Saint Esprit_: all

which he refused, though he knew his great fortune was lost, and

already distributed to favourites at Court, and himself proscribed and

convicted as a traitor to _France_. Yet all these refusals did not

open the eyes of this credulous great young man, who still believed it

the sullenness and generosity of his temper.

No sooner did the day discover to the world the horrid business of the

preceding night, but a diligent search was made among the infinite

number of dead that covered the face of the earth, for the body of the

Prince, or new King, as they called him: but when they could not find

him among the dead, they sent out parties all ways to search the

woods, the forests and the plains; nor was it long they sought in

vain; for he who had laid himself, as I said, under the shelter of a

tree, had not for any consideration removed him; but finding himself

seized by a common hand, suffered himself, without resistance, to be

detained by one single man ‘till more advanced, when he could as

easily have killed the rustic as speak or move; an action so below the

character of this truly brave man, that there is no reason to be given

to excuse his easy submission but this, that he was stupefied with

long watching, grief, and the fatigues of his daily toil for so many

weeks before: for it is not to be imagined it was carelessness, or

little regard for life; for if it had been so, he would doubtless have

lost it nobly with the victory, and never have retreated while there

had been one sword left advanced against him; or if he had disdained

the enemy should have had the advantage and glory of so great a

conquest, at least when his sword had been yet left him, he should

have died like a _Roman_, and have scorned to have added to the

triumph of the enemy. But love had unmanned his great soul, and

_Hermione_ pleaded within for life at any price, even that of all his

glory; the thought of her alone blackened this last scene of his life,

and for which all his past triumphs could never atone nor excuse.

Thus taken, he suffered himself to be led away tamely by common hands

without resistance: a victim now even fallen to the pity of the

_mobile_ as he passed, and so little imagined by the better sort who

saw him not, they would not give a credit to it, every one affirming

and laying wagers he would die like a hero, and never surrender with

life to the conqueror. But this submission was but too true for the

repose of all his abettors; nor was his mean surrender all, but he

shewed a dejection all the way they were bringing him to _Paris_, so

extremely unworthy of his character, that it is hardly to be credited

so great a change could have been possible. And to shew that he had

lost all his spirit and courage with the victory, and that the great

strings of his heart were broke, the Captain who had the charge of

him, and commanded that little squadron that conducted him to _Paris_,

related to me this remarkable passage in the journey; he said, that

they lodged in an inn, where he believed both the master, and a great

many strangers who that night lodged there, were _Huguenots_, and

great lovers of the Prince, which the Captain did not know, till after

the lodgings were taken: however, he ordered a file of Musketeers to

guard the door; and himself only remaining in the chamber with the

Prince, while supper was getting ready: the Captain being extremely

weary with watching and toiling for a long time together, laid himself

down on a bench behind a great long table, that was fastened to the

floor, and had unadvisedly laid his pistols on the table; and though

he durst not sleep, he thought there to stretch himself into a little

ease, who had not quitted his horseback in a great while: the Prince,

who was walking with his arms a-cross about the room, musing in a very

dejected posture, often casting his eyes to the door, at last advances

to the table, and takes up the Captain’s pistols; the while he who saw

him advance, feared in that moment, what the Prince was going to do;

he thought, if he should rise and snatch at the pistols, and miss of

them, it would express so great a distrust of the Prince, it might

provoke him to do, what by his generous submitting of them, might make

him escape; and therefore, since it was too late, he suffered the

Prince to arm himself with two pistols, who before was disarmed of

even his little penknife. He was, he said, a thousand times about to

call out to the guards; but then he thought before they could enter to

his relief, he was sure to be shot dead, and it was possible the

Prince might make his party good with four or five common soldiers,

who perhaps loved the Prince as well as any, and might rather assist

than hinder his flight; all this he thought in an instant, and at the

same time, seeing the Prince stand still, in a kind of consideration

what to do, looking, turning, and viewing of the pistols, he doubted

not but his thoughts would determine with his life, and though he had

been in the heat of all the battle, and had looked death in the face,

when it appeared most horrid, he protested he knew not how to fear

till this moment, and that now he trembled with the apprehension of

unavoidable ruin; he cursed a thousand times his unadvisedness, now it

was too late; he saw the Prince, after he had viewed and reviewed the

pistols, walk in a great thoughtfulness again about the chamber, and

at last, as if he had determined what to do, came back and laid them

again on the table; at which the Captain snatched them up, resolving

never to commit so great an over-sight more. He did not doubt, he

said, but the Prince, in taking them up, had some design of making his

escape; and most certainly, if he had but had courage to have

attempted it, it had not been hard to have been accomplished: at

worst, he could but have died: but there is a fate, that over-rules

the most lucky minutes of the greatest men in the world, and turns

even all advantages offered to misfortunes, when it designs their

ruin.

While they were on their way to _Paris_, he gave some more signs, that

the misfortunes he had suffered, had lessened his heart and courage:

he writ several the most submissive letters in the world to the King,

and to the Queen-Mother of _France_; wherein he strove to mitigate his

treason, with the poorest arguments imaginable, and, as if his good

sense had declined with his fortune, his style was altered, and

debased to that of a common man, or rather a schoolboy, filled with

tautologies and stuff of no coherence; in which he neither shewed the

majesty of a prince, nor sense of a gentleman; as I could make appear

by exposing those copies, which I leave to history; all which must be

imputed to the disorder his head and heart were in, for want of that

natural rest, he never after found. When he came to _Paris_, he fell

at the feet of His Majesty, to whom they brought him, and with a

shower of tears bedewing his shoes, as he lay prostrate, besought his

pardon, and asked his life; perhaps one of his greatest weaknesses, to

imagine he could hope for mercy, after so many pardons for the same

fault; and which, if he had had but one grain of that bravery left

him, he was wont to be master of, he could not have expected, nor have

had the confidence to have implored; and he was a poor spectacle of

pity to all that once adored him, to see how he petitioned in vain for

life; which if it had been granted, had been of no other use to him,

but to have passed in some corner of the earth, with _Hermione_,

despised by all the rest: and, though he fetched tears of pity from

the eyes of the best and most merciful of kings, he could not gain on

his first resolution; which was never to forgive him that scurrilous

Declaration he had dispersed at his first landing in _France_; that he

took upon him the title of king, he could forgive; that he had been

the cause of so much bloodshed, he could forgive; but never that

unworthy scandal on his unspotted fame, of which he was much more

nice, than of his crown or life; and left him (as he told him this)

prostrate on the earth, when the guards took him up, and conveyed him

to the _Bastille_: as he came out of the _Louvre_, it is said, he

looked with his wonted grace, only a languishment sat there in greater

beauty, than possibly all his gayer looks ever put on, at least in his

circumstances all that beheld him imagined so; all the _Parisians_

were crowded in vast numbers to see him: and oh, see what fortune is!

Those that had vowed him allegiance in their hearts, and were upon all

occasions ready to rise in mutiny for his least interest, now saw him,

and suffered him to be carried to the _Bastille_ with a small company

of guards, and never offered to rescue the royal unfortunate from the

hands of justice, while he viewed them all around with scorning, dying

eyes.

While he remained in the _Bastille_, he was visited by several of the

ministers of State, and cardinals, and men of the Church, who urged

him to some discoveries, but could not prevail with him: he spoke, he

thought, he dreamed of nothing but _Hermione_; and when they talked of

heaven, he ran on some discourse of that beauty, something of her

praise; and so continued to his last moment, even on the scaffold,

where, when he was urged to excuse, as a good Christian ought, his

invasion, his bloodshed, and his unnatural war, he set himself to

justify his passion to _Hermione_, endeavouring to render the life he

had led with her, innocent and blameless in the sight of heaven; and

all the churchmen could persuade could make him speak of very little

else. Just before he laid himself down on the block, he called to one

of the gentlemen of his chamber, and taking out the enchanted

tooth-pick-case, he whispered him in the ear, and commanded him to

bear it from him to _Hermione_; and laying himself down, suffered the

justice of the law, and died more pitied than lamented; so that it

became a proverb, ‘If I have an enemy, I wish he may live like----,

and die like _Cesario_’. so ended the race of this glorious youth, who

was in his time the greatest man of a subject in the world, and the

greatest favourite of his prince, happy indeed above a monarch, if

ambition and the inspiration of knaves and fools, had not led him to

destruction, and from a glorious life, brought him to a shameful

death.

This deplorable news was not long in coming to _Hermione_, who must

receive this due, that when she heard her _hero_ was dead, (and with

him all her dearer greatness gone) she betook herself to her bed, and

made a vow she would never rise nor eat more; and she was as good as

her word, she lay in that melancholy estate about ten days, making the

most piteous moan for her dead lover that ever was heard, drowning her

pillow in tears, and sighing out her soul. She called on him in vain

as long as she could speak; at last she fell into a lethargy, and

dreamed of him, till she could dream no more; an everlasting sleep