‘If I do not usurp a priviledge reserved for some one more h

Incognita: or, Love & Duty Reconcil’d.

A Novel

by William Congreve

TO THE

Honoured and Worthily Esteem’d

Mrs. _Katharine Leveson_.

_Madam_,

A Clear Wit, sound Judgment and a Merciful Disposition, are things so

rarely united, that it is almost inexcusable to entertain them with any

thing less excellent in its kind. My knowledge of you were a sufficient

Caution to me, to avoid your Censure of this Trifle, had I not as

intire a knowledge of your Goodness. Since I have drawn my Pen for a

Rencounter, I think it better to engage where, though there be Skill

enough to Disarm me, there is too much Generosity to Wound; for so

shall I have the saving Reputation of an unsuccessful Courage, if I

cannot make it a drawn Battle. But methinks the Comparison intimates

something of a Defiance, and savours of Arrogance; wherefore since I am

Conscious to my self of a Fear which I cannot put off, let me use the

Policy of Cowards and lay this Novel unarm’d, naked and shivering at

your Feet, so that if it should want Merit to challenge Protection,

yet, as an Object of Charity, it may move Compassion. It has been some

Diversion to me to Write it, I wish it may prove such to you when you

have an hour to throw away in Reading of it: but this Satisfaction I

have at least beforehand, that in its greatest failings it may fly for

Pardon to that Indulgence which you owe to the weakness of your Friend;

a Title which I am proud you have thought me worthy of, and which I

think can alone be superior to that

_Your most Humble and_

_Obliged Servant_

CLEOPHIL.

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.

Reader,

Some Authors are so fond of a Preface, that they will write one tho’

there be nothing more in it than an Apology for its self. But to show

thee that I am not one of those, I will make no Apology for this, but

do tell thee that I think it necessary to be prefix’d to this Trifle,

to prevent thy overlooking some little pains which I have taken in the

Composition of the following Story. Romances are generally composed of

the Constant Loves and invincible Courages of Hero’s, Heroins, Kings

and Queens, Mortals of the first Rank, and so forth; where lofty

Language, miraculous Contingencies and impossible Performances, elevate

and surprize the Reader into a giddy Delight, which leaves him flat

upon the Ground whenever he gives of, and vexes him to think how he has

suffer’d himself to be pleased and transported, concern’d and afflicted

at the several Passages which he has Read, viz. these Knights Success

to their Damosels Misfortunes, and such like, when he is forced to be

very well convinced that ’tis all a lye. Novels are of a more familiar

nature; Come near us, and represent to us Intrigues in practice,

delight us with Accidents and odd Events, but not such as are wholly

unusual or unpresidented, such which not being so distant from our

Belief bring also the pleasure nearer us. Romances give more of Wonder,

Novels more Delight. And with reverence be it spoken, and the Parallel

kept at due distance, there is something of equality in the Proportion

which they bear in reference to one another, with that betwen Comedy

and Tragedy; but the Drama is the long extracted from Romance and

History: ’tis the Midwife to Industry, and brings forth alive the

Conceptions of the Brain. Minerva walks upon the Stage before us, and

we are more assured of the real presence of Wit when it is delivered

viva voce—

Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,

Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, & quæ

Ipse sibi tradit spectator.—Horace.

Since all Traditions must indisputably give place to the Drama, and

since there is no possibility of giving that life to the Writing or

Repetition of a Story which it has in the Action, I resolved in another

beauty to imitate Dramatick Writing, namely, in the Design, Contexture

and Result of the Plot. I have not observed it before in a Novel. Some

I have seen begin with an unexpected accident, which has been the only

surprizing part of the Story, cause enough to make the Sequel look

flat, tedious and insipid; for ’tis but reasonable the Reader should

expect it not to rise, at least to keep upon a level in the

entertainment; for so he may be kept on in hopes that at some time or

other it may mend; but the ’tother is such a balk to a Man, ’tis

carrying him up stairs to show him the Dining-Room, and after forcing

him to make a Meal in the Kitchin. This I have not only endeavoured to

avoid, but also have used a method for the contrary purpose. The design

of the Novel is obvious, after the first meeting of Aurelian and

Hippolito with Incognita and Leonora, and the difficulty is in bringing

it to pass, maugre all apparent obstacles, within the compass of two

days. How many probable Casualties intervene in opposition to the main

Design, viz. of marrying two Couple so oddly engaged in an intricate

Amour, I leave the Reader at his leisure to consider: As also whether

every Obstacle does not in the progress of the Story act as subservient

to that purpose, which at first it seems to oppose. In a Comedy this

would be called the Unity of Action; here it may pretend to no more

than an Unity of Contrivance. The Scene is continued in Florence from

the commencement of the Amour; and the time from first to last is but

three days. If there be any thing more in particular resembling the

Copy which I imitate (as the Curious Reader will soon perceive) I leave

it to show it self, being very well satisfy’d how much more proper it

had been for him to have found out this himself, than for me to

prepossess him with an Opinion of something extraordinary in an Essay

began and finished in the idler hours of a fortnight’s time: for I can

only esteem it a laborious idleness, which is Parent to so

inconsiderable a Birth. I have gratified the Bookseller in pretending

an occasion for a Preface; the other two Persons concern’d are the

Reader and my self, and if he be but pleased with what was produced for

that end, my satisfaction follows of course, since it will be

proportion’d to his Approbation or Dislike.

INCOGNITA:

OR,

Love & Duty

RECONCIL’D

Aurelian was the only Son to a Principal Gentleman of Florence. The

Indulgence of his Father prompted, and his Wealth enabled him, to

bestow a generous Education upon him, whom, he now began to look upon

as the Type of himself; an Impression he had made in the Gayety and

Vigour of his Youth, before the Rust of Age had debilitated and

obscur’d the Splendour of the Original: He was sensible, That he ought

not to be sparing in the Adornment of him, if he had Resolution to

beautifie his own Memory. Indeed Don Fabio (for so was the Old

Gentleman call’d) has been observ’d to have fix’d his Eyes upon

Aurelian, when much Company has been at Table, and have wept through

Earnestness of Intention, if nothing hapned to divert the Object;

whether it were for regret, at the Recollection of his former self, or

for the Joy he conceiv’d in being, as it were, reviv’d in the Person of

his Son, I never took upon me to enquire, but suppos’d it might be

sometimes one, and sometimes both together.

Aurelian, at the Age of Eighteen Years, wanted nothing (but a Beard)

that the most accomplished Cavalier in Florence could pretend to: he

had been Educated from Twelve Years old at Siena, where it seems his

Father kept a Receiver, having a large Income from the Rents of several

Houses in that Town. Don Fabio gave his Servant Orders, That Aurelian

should not be stinted in his Expences, when he came up to Years of

Discretion. By which means he was enabled, not only to keep Company

with, but also to confer many Obligations upon Strangers of Quality,

and Gentlemen who travelled from other Countries into Italy, of which

Siena never wanted store, being a Town most delightfully Situate, upon

a Noble Hill, and very well suiting with Strangers at first, by reason

of the agreeableness and purity of the Air: There also is the

quaintness and delicacy of the Italian Tongue most likely to be

learned, there being many publick Professors of it in that place; and

indeed the very Vulgar of Siena do express themselves with an easiness

and sweetness surprizing, and even grateful to their Ears who

understand not the Language.

Here Aurelian contracted an acquaintance with Persons of Worth of

several Countries, but among the rest an intimacy with a Gentleman of

Quality of Spain, and Nephew to the Archbishop of Toledo, who had so

wrought himself into the Affections of Aurelian, through a Conformity

of Temper, an Equality in Years, and something of resemblance in

Feature and Proportion, that he look’d upon him as his second self.

Hippolito, on the other hand, was not ungrateful in return of

Friendship, but thought himself either alone or in ill Company, if

Aurelian were absent: but his Uncle having sent him to travel, under

the Conduct of a Governour, and the two Years which limited his stay at

Siena being expired, he was put in mind of his departure. His Friend

grew melancholy at the News, but considering that Hippolito had never

seen Florence, he easily prevailed with him to make his first journey

thither, whither he would accompany him, and perhaps prevail with his

Father to do the like throughout his Travels.

They accordingly set out, but not being able easily to reach Florence

the same Night, they rested a League or two short, at a Villa of the

great Duke’s called Poggio Imperiale, where they were informed by some

of his Highness’s Servants, That the Nuptials of Donna Catharina (near

Kinswoman to the great Duke) and Don Ferdinand de Rovori, were to be

solemnized the next day, and that extraordinary Preparations had been

making for some time past, to illustrate the Solemnity with Balls and

Masques, and other Divertisements; that a Tilting had been proclaimed,

and to that purpose Scaffolds erected around the Spacious Court, before

the Church Di Santa Croce, where were usually seen all Cavalcades and

Shews, performed by Assemblies of the Young Nobility: That all

Mechanicks and Tradesmen were forbidden to work or expose any Goods to

Sale for the space of three days; during which time all Persons should

be entertain’d at the Great Duke’s Cost; and publick Provision was to

be made for the setting forth and furnishing a multitude of Tables,

with Entertainment for all Comers and Goers, and several Houses

appointed for that use in all Streets.

This Account alarm’d the Spirits of our Young Travellers, and they were

overjoy’d at the prospect of Pleasures they foresaw. Aurelian could not

contain the satisfaction he conceiv’d in the welcome Fortune had

prepar’d for his dear Hippolito. In short, they both remembred so much

of the pleasing Relation had been made them, that they forgot to sleep,

and were up as soon as it was light, pounding at poor Signior Claudio’s

Door (so was Hippolito’s Governour call’d) to rouse him, that no time

might be lost till they were arriv’d at Florence, where they would

furnish themselves with Disguises and other Accoutrements necessary for

the Prosecution of their Design of sharing in the publick Merriment;

the rather were they for going so early because Aurelian did not think

fit to publish his being in Town for a time, least his Father knowing

of it, might give some restraint to that loose they designed

themselves.

Before Sun rise they entred Florence at Porta Romana, attended only by

two Servants, the rest being left behind to avoid notice; but, alas!

they needed not to have used half that caution; for early as it was,

the Streets were crowded with all sorts of People passing to and fro,

and every Man employ’d in something relating to the Diversions to come;

so that no notice was taken of any body; a Marquess and his Train might

have pass’d by as unregarded as a single Fachin or Cobler. Not a Window

in the Streets but echoed the tuning of a Lute or thrumming of a

Gitarr: for, by the way, the Inhabitants of Florence are strangely

addicted to the love of Musick, insomuch that scarce their Children can

go, before they can scratch some Instrument or other. It was no

unpleasing Spectacle to our Cavaliers (who, seeing they were not

observ’d, resolved to make Observations) to behold the Diversity of

Figures and Postures of many of these Musicians. Here you should have

an affected Vallet, who Mimick’d the Behaviour of his Master, leaning

carelessly against the Window, with his Head on one side, in a

languishing Posture, whining, in a low, mournful Voice, some dismal

Complaint; while, from his sympathizing Theorbo, issued a Base no less

doleful to the Hearers. In Opposition to him was set up perhaps a

Cobler, with the wretched Skeleton of a Gitarr, battered and waxed

together by his own Industry, and who with three Strings out of Tune,

and his own tearing hoarse Voice, would rack attention from the

Neighbourhood, to the great affliction of many more moderate

Practitioners, who, no doubt, were full as desirous to be heard. By

this time Aurelian’s Servant had taken a Lodging and was returned, to

give his Master an Account of it. The Cavaliers grown weary of that

ridiculous Entertainment, which was diverting at first sight, retired

whither the Lacquey conducted them; who, according to their Directions,

had sought out one of the most obscure Streets in the City. All that

day, to the evening, was spent in sending from one Brokers Shop to

another, to furnish them with Habits, since they had not time to make

any new.

There was, it happened, but one to be got Rich enough to please our

young Gentlemen, so many were taken up upon this occasion. While they

were in Dispute and Complementing one another, (Aurelian protesting

that Hippolito should wear it, and he, on ’tother hand, forswearing it

as bitterly) a Servant of Hippolito’s came up and ended the

Controversie; telling them, That he had met below with the Vallet de

Chambre of a Gentleman, who was one of the greatest Gallants about the

Town, but was at this time in such a condition he could not possibly be

at the Entertainment; whereupon the Vallet had designed to dress

himself up in his Master’s Apparel, and try his talent at Court; which

he hearing, told him he would inform him how he might bestow the Habit

for some time much more to his profit if not to his pleasure, so

acquainted him with the occasion his Master had for it. Hippolito sent

for the Fellow up, who was not so fond of his design as not to be

bought off it, but upon having his own demand granted for the use of

it, brought it; it was very Rich, and upon tryal, as fit for Hippolito

as if it had been made for him. The Ceremony was performed in the

Morning, in the great Dome, with all magnificence correspondent to the

wealth of the great Duke, and the esteem he had for the Noble Pair. The

next Morning was to be a Tilting, and the same Night a Masquing Ball at

Court. To omit the Description of the universal Joy, (that had diffus’d

it self through all the Conduits of Wine, which convey’d it in large

measures to the People) and only relate those effects of it which

concern our present Adventurers. You must know, that about the fall of

the Evening, and at that time when the _æquilibrium_ of Day and Night,

for some time, holds the Air in a gloomy suspence between an

unwillingness to leave the light, and a natural impulse into the

Dominion of darkness, about this time our Hero’s, shall I say, sally’d

or slunk out of their Lodgings, and steer’d toward the great Palace,

whither, before they were arrived, such a prodigious number of Torches

were on fire, that the day, by help of these Auxiliary Forces, seem’d

to continue its Dominion; the Owls and Bats apprehending their mistake,

in counting the hours, retir’d again to a convenient darkness; for

Madam Night was no more to be seen than she was to be heard; and the

Chymists were of Opinion, That her fuliginous Damps, rarefy’d by the

abundance of Flame, were evaporated.

Now the Reader I suppose to be upon Thorns at this and the like

impertinent Digressions, but let him alone and he’ll come to himself;

at which time I think fit to acquaint him, that when I digress, I am at

that time writing to please my self, when I continue the Thread of the

Story, I write to please him; supposing him a reasonable Man, I

conclude him satisfied to allow me this liberty, and so I proceed.

If our Cavaliers were dazled at the splendour they beheld without

doors, what surprize, think you, must they be in, when entering the

Palace they found even the lights there to be but so many foils to the

bright eyes that flash’d upon ’em at every turn.

A more glorious Troop no occasion ever assembled; all the fair of

Florence, with the most accomplished Cavaliers, were present; and

however Nature had been partial in bestowing on some better Faces than

others, Art was alike indulgent to all, and industriously supplyed

those Defects she had left, giving some Addition also to her greatest

Excellencies. Every body appear’d well shap’d, as it is to be suppos’d,

none who were conscious to themselves of any visible Deformity would

presume to come thither. Their Apparel was equally glorious, though

each differing in fancy. In short, our Strangers were so well bred, as

to conclude from these apparent Perfections, that there was not a

Masque which did not at least hide the Face of a Cherubim. Perhaps the

Ladies were not behind hand in return of a favourable Opinion of them:

for they were both well dress’d, and had something inexpressibly

pleasing in their Air and Mien, different from other People, and indeed

differing from one another. They fansy’d that while they stood together

they were more particularly taken notice of than any in the Room, and

being unwilling to be taken for Strangers, which they thought they

were, by reason of some whispering they observed near them, they agreed

upon an hour of meeting after the company should be broke up, and so

separately mingled with the thickest of the Assembly. Aurelian had

fixed his eye upon a Lady whom he had observ’d to have been a

considerable time in close whisper with another Woman; he expected with

great impatience the result of that private Conference, that he might

have an opportunity of engaging the Lady whose Person was so agreeable

to him. At last he perceived they were broke off, and the ’tother Lady

seem’d to have taken her leave. He had taken no small pains in the mean

time to put himself in a posture to accost the Lady, which, no doubt,

he had happily performed had he not been interrupted; but scarce had he

acquitted himself of a preliminary bow (and which, I have heard him

say, was the lowest that ever he made) and had just opened his Lips to

deliver himself of a small Complement, which, nevertheless he was very

big with, when he unluckily miscarried, by the interposal of the same

Lady, whose departure, not long before, he had so zealously pray’d for:

but, as Providence would have it, there was only some very small matter

forgot, which was recovered in a short whisper. The Coast being again

cleared, he took heart and bore up, and, striking sail, repeated his

Ceremony to the Lady; who, having Obligingly returned it, he accosted

her in these or the like words:

‘If I do not usurp a priviledge reserved for some one more happy in

your acquaintance, may I presume, Madam, to entreat (for a while) the

favour of your Conversation, at least till the arrival of whom you

expect, provided you are not tired of me before; for then upon the

least intimation of uneasiness, I will not fail of doing my self the

violence to withdraw for your release. The Lady made him answer, she

did not expect any body; by which he might imagine her Conversation not

of value to be bespoke, and to afford it him, were but farther to

convince him to her own cost. He reply’d, ‘She had already said enough

to convince him of something he heartily wished might not be to his

cost in the end. She pretended not to understand him; but told him, ‘If

he already found himself grieved with her Conversation, he would have

sufficient reason to repent the rashness of his first Demand before

they had ended: for that now she intended to hold discourse with him,

on purpose to punish his unadvisedness, in presuming upon a Person

whose dress and mien might not (may be) be disagreeable to have wit. ‘I

must confess (reply’d Aurelian) my self guilty of a Presumption, and

willingly submit to the punishment you intend: and though it be an

aggravation of a Crime to persevere in its justification, yet I cannot

help defending an Opinion in which now I am more confirm’d, that

probable conjectures may be made of the ingenious Disposition of the

Mind, from the fancy and choice of Apparel. The humour I grant ye (said

the Lady) or constitution of the Person whether melancholick or brisk;

but I should hardly pass my censure upon so slight an indication of

wit: for there is your brisk fool as well as your brisk man of sense,

and so of the melancholick. I confess ’tis possible a fool may reveal

himself by his Dress, in wearing something extravagantly singular and

ridiculous, or in preposterous suiting of colours; but a decency of

Habit (which is all that Men of best sense pretend to) may be acquired

by custom and example, without putting the Person to a superfluous

expence of wit for the contrivance; and though there should be occasion

for it, few are so unfortunate in their Relations and Acquaintance not

to have some Friend capable of giving them advice, if they are not too

ignorantly conceited to ask it. Aurelian was so pleased with the

easiness and smartness of her Expostulation, that he forgot to make a

reply, when she seem’d to expect it; but being a Woman of a quick

Apprehension, and justly sensible of her own perfections, she soon

perceived he did not grudge his attention. However she had a mind to

put it upon him to turn the discourse, so went on upon the same

Subject. ‘Signior (said she) I have been looking round me, and by your

Maxim I cannot discover one fool in the Company; for they are all well

drest. This was spoken with an Air of Rallery that awakened the

Cavalier, who immediately made answer: ’Tis true, Madam, we see there

may be as much variety of good fancies as of faces, yet there may be

many of both kinds borrowed and adulterate if inquired into; and as you

were pleased to observe, the invention may be Foreign to the Person who

puts it in practice; and as good an Opinion as I have of an agreeable

Dress, I should be loth to answer for the wit of all about us. I

believe you (says the Lady) and hope you are convinced of your error,

since you must allow it impossible to tell who of all this Assembly did

or did not make choice of their own Apparel. Not all (said Aurelian)

there is an ungainness in some which betrays them. ‘Look ye there (says

he) pointing to a Lady who stood playing with the Tassels of her

Girdle, I dare answer for that Lady, though she be very well dress’d,

’tis more than she knows. His fair unknown could not forbear laughing

at his particular distinction, and freely told him, he had indeed light

upon one who knew as little as any body in the Room, her self excepted.

Ah! Madam, (reply’d Aurelian) you know every thing in the World but

your own Perfections, and you only know not those because ’tis the top

of Perfection not to know them. How? (reply’d the Lady) I thought it

had been the extremity of knowledge to know ones self. Aurelian had a

little over-strain’d himself in that Complement, and I am of Opinion

would have been puzzl’d to have brought himself off readily: but by

good fortune the Musick came into the Room and gave him an opportunity

to seem to decline an answer, because the company prepared to dance: he

only told her he was too mean a Conquest for her wit who was already a

Slave to the Charms of her Person. She thanked him for his Complement,

and briskly told him she ought to have made him a return in praise of

his wit, but she hoped he was a Man more happy than to be dissatisfy’d

with any of his own Endowments; and if it were so, that he had not a

just Opinion of himself, she knew her self incapable of saying any

thing to beget one. Aurelian did not know well what to make of this

last reply; for he always abhor’d any thing that was conceited, with

which this seem’d to reproach him. But however modest he had been

heretofore in his own thoughts, yet never was he so distrustful of his

good behaviour as now, being rally’d so by a Person whom he took to be

of judgment: Yet he resolved to take no notice, but with an Air

unconcerned and full of good humour entreated her to Dance with him:

She promised him to Dance with no body else, nor I believe had she

inclination; for notwithstanding her tartness, she was upon equal terms

with him as to the liking of each others Person and Humour, and only

gave those little hints to try his Temper; there being certainly no

greater sign of folly and ill breeding, than to grow serious and

concerned at any thing spoken in rallery: for his part, he was

strangely and insensibly fallen in love with her Shape, Wit and Air;

which, together with a white Hand, he had seen (perhaps not

accidentally) were enough to have subdued a more stubborn Heart than

ever he was master of; and for her Face, which he had not seen, he

bestowed upon her the best his Imagination could furnish him with. I

should by right now describe her Dress, which was extreamly agreeable

and rich, but ’tis possible I might err in some material Pin or other,

in the sticking of which may be the whole grace of the Drapery

depended. Well, they danced several times together, and no less to the

satisfaction of the whole Company, than of themselves; for at the end

of each Dance, some publick note of Applause or other was given to the

graceful Couple.

Aurelian was amaz’d, that among all that danced or stood in view he

could not see Hippolito; but concluding that he had met with some

pleasing Conversation, and was withdrawn to some retired part of the

Room, he forbore his search till the mirth of that Night should be

over, and the Company ready to break up, where we will leave him for a

while, to see what became of his adventurous Friend.

Hippolito, a little after he had parted with Aurelian, was got among a

knot of Ladies and Cavaliers, who were looking upon a large Gold Cup

set with Jewels, in which his Royal Highness had drank to the

prosperity of the new married Couple at Dinner, and which afterward he

presented to his Cousin Donna Catharina. He among the rest was very

intent, admiring the richness, workmanship and beauty of the Cup, when

a Lady came behind him and pulling him by the Elbow, made a sign she

would speak with him; Hippolito, who knew himself an utter Stranger to

Florence and every body in it, immediately guessed she had mistaken him

for her acquaintance, as indeed it happened; however he resolved not to

discover himself till he should be assured of it; having followed her

into a set Window remote from Company, she address’d her self to him in

this manner: ‘Signior Don Lorenzo (said she) I am overjoy’d to see you

are so speedily recovered of your Wounds, which by report were much

more dangerous than to have suffered your coming abroad so soon; but I

must accuse you of great indiscretion, in appearing in a Habit which so

many must needs remember you to have worn upon the like occasion not

long ago, I mean at the Marriage of Don Cynthio with your Sister

Atalanta; I do assure you, you were known by it, both to Juliana and my

self, who was so far concerned for you, as to desire me to tell you,

that her Brother Don Fabritio (who saw you when you came in with

another Gentleman) had eyed you very narrowly, and is since gone out of

the Room, she knows not upon what design; however she would have you,

for your own sake, be advised and circumspect when you depart this

place, lest you should be set upon unawares; you know the hatred Don

Fabritio has born you ever since you had the fortune to kill his

Kinsman in a Duel: Here she paused as if expecting his reply; but

Hippolito was so confounded, that he stood mute, and contemplating the

hazard he had ignorantly brought himself into, forgot his design of

informing the Lady of her mistake. She finding he made her no Answer,

went on. ‘I perceive (continued she) you are in some surprize at what I

have related, and may be, are doubtful of the Truth; but I thought you

had been better acquainted with your Cousin Leonora’s Voice, than to

have forgot it so soon: Yet in Complaisance to your ill Memory, I will

put you past doubt, by shewing you my Face; with that she pulled off

her Mask, and discovered to Hippolito (now more amaz’d than ever) the

most Angelick Face that he had ever beheld. He was just about to have

made her some answer, when, clapping on her Mask again without giving

him time, she happily for him pursu’d her Discourse. (For ’tis odds but

he had made some discovery of himself in the surprize he was in.)

Having taken him familiarly by the Hand, now she had made her self

known to him, ‘Cousin Lorenzo (added she) you may perhaps have taken it

unkindly, that, during the time of your indisposition by reason of your

Wounds, I have not been to visit you; I do assure you it was not for

want of any Inclination I had both to see and serve you to my power;

but you are well acquainted with the Severity of my Father, whom you

know how lately you have disobliged. I am mighty glad that I have met

with you here, where I have had an Opportunity to tell you what so much

concerns your Safety, which I am afraid you will not find in Florence;

considering the great Power Don Fabritio and his Father, the Marquess

of Viterbo, have in this City. I have another thing to inform you of,

That whereas Don Fabio had interested himself in your Cause, in

Opposition to the Marquess of Viterbo, by reason of the long Animosity

between them, all hopes of his Countenance and Assistance are defeated:

For there has been a Proposal of Reconciliation made to both Houses,

and it is said it will be confirm’d (as most such ancient Quarrels are

at last) by the Marriage of Juliana the Marquess’s Daughter, with

Aurelian, Son to Don Fabio: to which effect the old Gentleman sent

’tother Day to Siena, where Aurelian has been Educated, to hasten his

coming to Town; but the Messenger returning this Morning, brought word,

That the same day he arriv’d at Siena, Aurelian had set out for

Florence, in Company with a young Spanish Nobleman, his intimate

Friend; so it is believ’d, they are both in Town, and not unlikely in

this Room in Masquerade.

Hippolito could not forbear smiling to himself, at these last words.

For ever since the naming of Don Fabio he had been very attentive; but

before, his Thoughts were wholly taken up with the Beauty of the Face

he had seen, and from the time she had taken him by the Hand, a

successive warmth and chillness had play’d about his Heart, and

surpriz’d him with an unusual Transport. He was in a hundred Minds,

whether he should make her sensible of her Error or no; but considering

he could expect no farther Conference with her after he should discover

himself, and that as yet he knew not of her place of abode, he resolv’d

to humour the mistake a little further. Having her still by the Hand,

which he squeez’d somewhat more eagerly than is usual for Cousins to

do, in a low and undistinguishable Voice, he let her know how much he

held himself obliged to her, and avoiding as many words as handsomely

he could, at the same time, entreated her to give him her Advice,

toward the management of himself in this Affair. Leonora, who never

from the beginning had entertain’d the least Scruple of distrust,

imagined he spoke faintly, as not being yet perfectly recovered in his

strength; and withal considering that the heat of the Room, by reason

of the Crowd, might be uneasie to a Person in his Condition; she kindly

told him, That if he were as inclinable to dispense with the remainder

of that Nights Diversion as she was, and had no other engagement upon

him, by her consent they should both steal out of the Assembly, and go

to her House, where they might with more freedom discourse about a

business of that importance, and where he might take something to

refresh himself if he were (as she conceiv’d him to be) indisposed with

his long standing. Judge you whether the Proposal were acceptable to

Hippolito or no; he had been ruminating with himself how to bring

something like this about, and had almost despair’d of it; when of a

suddain he found the success of his design had prevented his own

endeavours. He told his Cousin in the same key as before, That he was

unwilling to be the occasion of her Divorce from so much good Company;

but for his own part, he was afraid he had presumed too much upon his

recovery in coming abroad so soon, and that he found himself so unwell,

he feared he should be quickly forc’d to retire. Leonora stay’d not to

make him any other reply, only tipp’d him upon the Arm, and bid him

follow her at a convenient distance to avoid Observation.

Whoever had seen the Joy that was in Hippolito’s Countenance, and the

Sprightliness with which he follow’d his Beautiful Conductress, would

scarce have taken him for a Person griev’d with uncured Wounds. She led

him down a back pair of Stairs, into one of the Palace Gardens which

had a Door opening into the Piazza, not far from where Don Mario her

Father lived. They had little Discourse by the way, which gave

Hippolito time to consider of the best way of discovering himself. A

thousand things came into his Head in a minute, yet nothing that

pleased him: and after so many Contrivances as he had formed for the

discovery of himself, he found it more rational for him not to reveal

himself at all that Night, since he could not foresee what effect the

surprize would have, she must needs be in, at the appearance of a

Stranger, whom she had never seen before, yet whom she had treated so

familiarly. He knew Women were apt to shriek or swoon upon such

Occasions, and should she happen to do either, he might be at a loss

how to bring himself off. He thought he might easily pretend to be

indisposed somewhat more than ordinary, and so make an excuse to go to

his own Lodging. It came into his Head too, that under pretence of

giving her an account of his Health, he might enquire of her the means

how a Letter might be convey’d to her the next morning, wherein he

might inform her gently of her mistake, and insinuate something of that

Passion he had conceiv’d, which he was sure he could not have

opportunity to speak of if he bluntly revealed himself. He had just

resolv’d upon this Method, as they were come to the great Gates of the

Court, when Leonora stopping to let him go in before her, he of a

suddain fetch’d his Breath violently as if some stitch or twinging

smart had just then assaulted him. She enquired the matter of him, and

advised him to make haste into the House that he might sit down and

rest him. He told her he found himself so ill, that he judged it more

convenient for him to go home while he was in a condition to move, for

he fear’d if he should once settle himself to rest he might not be able

to stir. She was much troubled, and would have had a Chair made ready

and Servants to carry him home; but he made answer, he would not have

any of her Fathers Servants know of his being abroad, and that just now

he had an interval of ease, which he hop’d would continue till he made

a shift to reach his own Lodgings. Yet if she pleased to inform him how

he might give an account of himself the next morning, in a line or two,

he would not fail to give her the thanks due to her great kindness; and

withal, would let her know something which would not a little surprize

her, though now he had not time to acquaint her with it. She show’d him

a little Window at the corner of the House, where one should wait to

receive his Letter, and was just taking her leave of him, when seeing

him search hastily in his Pocket, she ask’d him if he miss’d any thing;

he told her he thought a Wound which was not throughly heal’d bled a

little, and that he had lost his Handkerchief. His design took; for she

immediately gave him hers: which indeed accordingly he apply’d to the

only wound he was then griev’d with; which though it went quite through

his Heart, yet thank God was not Mortal. He was not a little rejoyc’d

at his good Fortune in getting so early a Favour from his Mistress, and

notwithstanding the violence he did himself to personate a sick Man, he

could not forbear giving some Symptoms of an extraordinary content; and

telling her that he did not doubt to receive a considerable Proportion

of ease from the Application of what had so often kiss’d her fair Hand.

Leonora who did not suspect the Compliment, told him she should be

heartily glad if that or any thing in her power might contribute to his

recovery; and wishing him well home, went into her House, as much

troubled for her Cousin as he was joyful for his Mistress.

Hippolito as soon as she was gone in, began to make his Remarks about

the House, walking round the great Court, viewing the Gardens and all

the Passages leading to that side of the Piazza. Having sufficiently

informed himself, with a Heart full of Love, and a Head full of

Stratagem, he walked toward his Lodging, impatient till the arrival of

Aurelian that he might give himself vent. In which interim, let me take

the liberty to digress a little, and tell the Reader something which I

do not doubt he has apprehended himself long ago, if he be not the

dullest Reader in the World; yet only for orders sake, let me tell him

I say, That a young Gentleman (Cousin to the aforesaid Don Fabritio)

happened one night to have some words at a Gameing House with one

Lorenzo, which created a Quarrel of fatal Consequence to the former,

who was killed upon the Spot, and likely to be so to the latter, who

was very desperately wounded.

Fabritio being much concerned for his Kinsman, vow’d revenge (according

to the ancient and laudable custom of Italy) upon Lorenzo if he

surviv’d, or in case of his death (if it should happen to anticipate

that, much more swinging Death which he had in store for him) upon his

next of Kin, and so to descend Lineally like an English Estate, to all

the Heirs Males of this Family. This same Fabritio had indeed (as

Leonora told Hippolito) taken particular notice of him from his first

entrance into the Room, and was so far doubtful as to go out

immediately himself, and make enquiry concerning Lorenzo, but was

quickly inform’d of the greatness of his Error, in believing a Man to

be abroad, who was so ill of his Wounds, that they now despair’d of his

recovery; and thereupon return’d to the Ball very well satisfied, but

not before Leonora and Hippolito were departed.

So, Reader, having now discharg’d my Conscience of a small Discovery

which I thought my self obliged to make to Thee, I proceed to tell

thee, that our Friend Aurelian had by this time danced himself into a

Net which he neither could, nor which is worse desired to untangle.

His Soul was charm’d to the movement of her Body: an Air so graceful,

so sweet, so easie and so great, he had never seen. She had something

of Majesty in her, which appear’d to be born with her; and though it

struck an awe into the Beholders, yet was it sweetned with a

familiarity of Behaviour, which rendred it agreeable to every Body. The

grandeur of her Mien was not stiff, but unstudied and unforced, mixed

with a simplicity; free, yet not loose nor affected. If the former

seem’d to condescend, the latter seem’d to aspire; and both to unite in

the centre of Perfection. Every turn she gave in dancing snatcht

Aurelian into a Rapture, and he had like to have been out two or three

times with following his Eyes, which she led about as Slaves to her

Heels.

As soon as they had done dancing, he began to complain of his want of

Breath and Lungs, to speak sufficiently in her Commendation; She

smilingly told him, he did ill to dance so much then: Yet in

Consideration of the pains he had taken more than ordinary upon her

account she would bate him a great deal of Complement, but with this

Proviso, That he was to discover to her who he was. Aurelian was

unwilling for the present to own himself to be really the Man he was;

when a suddain thought came into his Head to take upon him the Name and

Character of Hippolito, who he was sure was not known in Florence. He

thereupon, after a little pause, pretended to recal himself in this

manner: ‘Madam, it is no small demonstration of the entire Resignation

which I have made of my Heart to your Chains, since the secrets of it

are no longer in my power. I confess I only took Florence in my way,

not designing any longer Residence, than should be requisite to inform

the Curiosity of a Traveller, of the rareties of the Place. Whether

Happiness or Misery will be the Consequence of that Curiosity, I am yet

in fear, and submit to your Determination; but sure I am, not to depart

Florence till you have made me the most miserable Man in it, and refuse

me the fatal Kindness of Dying at your Feet. I am by Birth a Spaniard,

of the City of Toledo; my name Hippolito di Saviolina: I was yesterday

a Man free, as Nature made the first; to day I am fallen into a

Captivity, which must continue with my Life, and which, it is in your

power, to make much dearer to me. Thus in obedience to your Commands,

and contrary to my Resolution of remaining unknown in this place, I

have inform’d you, Madam, what I am; what I shall be, I desire to know

from you; at least, I hope, the free discovery I have made of my self,

will encourage you to trust me with the knowledge of your Person.

Here a low bow, and a deep sigh, put an end to his Discourse, and

signified his Expectation of her Reply, which was to this purpose—(But

I had forgot to tell you, That Aurelian kept off his Mask from the time

that he told her he was of Spain, till the period of his Relation.) Had

I thought (said she) that my Curiosity would have brought me in debt, I

should certainly have forborn it; or at least have agreed with you

before hand about the rate of your discovery, then I had not brought my

self to the Inconveniency of being censur’d, either of too much

easiness or reservedness; but to avoid, as much as I can, the

extreamity of either, I am resolv’d but to discover my self in part,

and will endeavour to give you as little occasion as I can, either to

boast of, or ridicule the Behaviour of the Women of Florence in your

Travels.

Aurelian interrupted her, and swore very solemnly (and the more

heartily, I believe, because he then indeed spoke truth) that he would

make Florence the place of his abode, whatever concerns he had

elsewhere. She advised him to be cautious how he swore to his

Expressions of Gallantry; and farther told him she now hoped she should

make him a return to all the Fine Things he had said, since she gave

him his choice whether he would know who she was, or see her Face.

Aurelian who was really in Love, and in whom Consideration would have

been a Crime, greedily embrac’d the latter, since she assured him at

that time he should not know both. Well, what follow’d? Why, she pull’d

off her Mask, and appear’d to him at once in the Glory of Beauty. But

who can tell the astonishment Aurelian felt? He was for a time

senseless; Admiration had suppress’d his Speech, and his Eyes were

entangled in Light. In short, to be made sensible of his condition, we

must conceive some Idea of what he beheld, which is not to be imagined

till seen, nor then to be express’d. Now see the impertinence and

conceitedness of an Author, who will have a fling at a Description,

which he has Prefaced with an impossibility. One might have seen

something in her Composition resembling the Formation of Epicurus his

World, as if every Atome of Beauty had concurr’d to unite an

excellency. Had that curious Painter lived in her days, he might have

avoided his painful search, when he collected from the choicest pieces

the most choice Features, and by a due Disposition and Judicious

Symmetry of those exquisite parts, made one whole and perfect Venus.

Nature seem’d here to have play’d the Plagiary, and to have molded into

Substance the most refined Thoughts of inspired Poets. Her Eyes

diffus’d Rays comfortable as warmth, and piercing as the light; they

would have worked a passage through the straightest Pores, and with a

delicious heat, have play’d about the most obdurate frozen Heart,

untill ’twere melted down to Love. Such Majesty and Affability were in

her Looks; so alluring, yet commanding was her Presence, that it minged

awe with love; kindling a Flame which trembled to aspire. She had

danced much, which, together with her being close masked, gave her a

tincture of Carnation more than ordinary. But Aurelian (from whom I had

every tittle of her Description) fancy’d he saw a little Nest of Cupids

break from the Tresses of her Hair, and every one officiously betake

himself to his task. Some fann’d with their downy Wings, her glowing

Cheeks; while others brush’d the balmy Dew from off her Face, leaving

alone a heavenly Moisture blubbing on her Lips, on which they drank and

revell’d for their pains; Nay, so particular were their allotments in

her service, that Aurelian was very positive a young Cupid who was but

just Pen-feather’d, employ’d his naked Quills to pick her Teeth. And a

thousand other things his transport represented to him, which none but

Lovers who have experience of such Visions will believe.

As soon as he awaked and found his Speech come to him, he employ’d it

to this effect:

‘’Tis enough that I have seen a Divinity—Nothing but Mercy can inhabit

these Perfections—Their utmost rigour brings a Death preferable to any

Life, but what they give—Use me, Madam, as you please; for by your fair

self, I cannot think a Bliss beyond what now I feel—You wound with

Pleasure, and if you Kill it must be with Transport—Ah! Yet methinks to

live—O Heaven! to have Life pronounced by those Bless’d Lips—Did they

not inspire where they command, it were an immediate Death of Joy.

Aurelian was growing a little too loud with his Admiration, had she not

just then interrupted him, by clapping on her Masque, and telling him

they should be observed, if he proceeded in his Extravagance; and

withal, that his Passion was too suddain to be real, and too violent to

be lasting. He replied, Indeed it might not be very lasting, (with a

submissive mournful Voice) but it would continue during his Life. That

it was suddain, he denied, for she had raised it by degrees from his

first sight of her, by a continued discovery of Charms, in her Mien and

Conversation, till she thought fit to set Fire to the Train she had

laid, by the Lightning of her Face; and then he could not help it, if

he were blown up.

He begg’d her to believe the Sincerity of his Passion, at least to

enjoin him something, which might tend to the Convincing of her

Incredulity. She said, she should find a time to make some Trials of

him; but for the first, she charged him not to follow or observe her,

after the Dissolution of the Assembly. He promised to obey, and

entreated her to tell him but her Name, that he might have Recourse to

that in his Affliction for her Absence, if he were able to survive it.

She desired him to live by all means; and if he must have a Name to

play with, to call her Incognita, till he were better informed.