Consanguinity and love which are treated in this novel so romantically
and with such tragic catastrophe had already been dealt with in happier
mood by Mrs. Behn in _The Dutch Lover_. _Vide_ Note on the Source of
that play, Vol. I, p. 218.
In classic lore the OEdipus Saga enthralled the imagination of antiquity
and inspired dramas amongst the world's masterpieces. Later forms of the
tale may be found in Suidas and Cedrenus.
The Legend of St. Gregory, based on a similar theme, the hero of which,
however, is innocent throughout, was widely diffused through mediaeval
Europe. It forms No. 81 of the _Gesta Romanorum_. There is an old
English poem[1] on the subject, and it also received lyric treatment at
the hands of the German meistersinger, Hartmann von Aue. An Italian
story, _Il Figliuolo di germani_, the chronicle of St. Albinus, and the
Servian romaunt of the Holy Foundling Simeon embody similar
circumstances.
Matteo Bandello, Part II, has a famous[2] novel (35) with rubric, 'un
gentiluomo navarrese sposa una, che era sua sorella e figliuola, non lo
sapendo,' which is almost exactly the same as the thirtieth story of the
_Heptameron_. As the good Bishop declares that it was related to him by
a lady living in the district, it is probable that some current
tradition furnished both him and the Queen of Navarre with these
horrible incidents and that neither copied from the other.[3]
Bandello was imitated in Spanish by J. Perez de Montalvan, _Sucesos y
Prodigios de Amor--La Mayor confusion_; in Latin by D. Otho Melander;
and he also gave Desfontaines the subject of _L'Inceste Innocent;
Histoire Veritable_ (Paris, 1644). A similar tale is touched upon in
_Amadis de Gaule_, and in a later century we find _Le Criminel sans le
Savoir, Roman Historique et Poetique_ (Amsterdam and Paris, 1783). It
is also found in Brevio's _Rime e Prose_; Volgari, novella iv; and in
T. Grapulo (or Grappolino), _Il Convito Borghesiano_ (Londra, 1800).
A cognate legend is _Le Dit du Buef_ and _Le Dit de la Bourjosee de
Rome_. (ed. Jubinal, _Nouveau Recueil_; and _Nouveau Recueil du Senateur
de Rome . . ._ ed. Meon.) Again: the _Leggenda di Vergogna, etc. testi
del buon secolo in prosa e in verso_, edited by A. D'Ancona (Bologna,
1869) repeats the same catastrophe. It is also related in Byshop's
_Blossoms_.
In Luther's _Colloquia Mensalia_, under the article 'Auricular
Confession', the occurrence is said to have taken place at Erfurt in
Germany. Julio de Medrano, a Spanish writer of the sixteenth century,
says that a similar story was related to him when he was in the
Bourbonnois, where the inhabitants pointed out the house which had been
the scene of these morbid passions. France, indeed, seems to have been
the home of the tradition, and Le Roux de Lincy in the notes to his
excellent edition of the _Heptameron_ quotes from Millin, _Antiquites
Nationales_ (t. iii. f. xxviii. p. 6.) who, speaking of the Collegiate
Church of Ecouis, says that in the midst of the nave there was a
prominent white marbel tablet with this epitaph:--
Cy-gist la fille, cy-gist le pere,
Cy-gist la soeur, cy-gist le frere;
Cy-gist la femme, et le mary,
Et si n'y a que deux corps icy.
The tradition ran that a son of 'Madame d'Ecouis avait eu de sa mere
sans la connaitre et sans en etre reconnu une fille nommee Cecile. Il
epousa ensuite en Lorraine cette meme Cecile qui etait aupres de la
Duchesse de Bar . . . Il furent enterres dans le meme tombeau en 1512 a
Ecouis.' An old sacristan used to supply curious visitors to the church
with a leaflet detailing the narrative. The same story is attached to
other parishes, and at Alincourt, a village between Amiens and
Abbeville, the following lines are inscribed upon a grave:--
Ci git le fils, ci git la mere,
Ci git la fille avec le pere,
Ci git la soeur, ci git le frere,
Ci git la femme et le mari,
Et ne sont pas que trois corps ici.
When Walpole wrote his tragedy, _The Mysterious Mother_ (1768), he
states he had no knowledge of Bandello or the _Heptameron_, but he gives
the following account of the origin of his theme. 'I had heard when very
young, that a gentlewoman, under uncommon agonies of mind, had waited on
Archbishop Tillotson and besought his counsel. A damsel that served her
had, many years before, acquainted her that she was importuned by the
gentlewoman's son to grant him a private meeting. The mother ordered the
maiden to make the assignation, when she said she would discover herself
and reprimand him for his criminal passion; but, being hurried away by a
much more criminal passion herself, she kept the assignation without
discovering herself. The fruit of this horrid artifice was a daughter,
whom the gentlewoman caused to be educated very privately in the
country; but proving very lovely and being accidentally met by her
father-brother, who never had the slightest suspicion of the truth, he
had fallen in love with and actually married her. The wretched guilty
mother learning what had happened, and distracted with the consequence
of her crime, had now resorted to the Archbishop to know in what manner
she should act. The prelate charged her never to let her son and
daughter know what had passed, as they were innocent of any criminal
intention. For herself, he bad her almost despair.'
The same story occurs in the writings of the famous Calvinistic divine,
William Perkins (1558-1602), sometime Rector of St. Andrew's, Cambridge.
Thence it was extracted for _The Spectator_.
In Mat Lewis' ghoulish romance, _The Monk_ (1796) it will be remembered
that Ambrosio, after having enjoyed Antonia, to whose bedchamber he has
gained admittance by demoniacal aid, discovers that she is his sister,
and heaping crime upon crime to sorcery and rape he has added incest.
There is a tragic little novel, '_The Illegal Lovers; a True Secret
History._ Being an Amour Between A Person of Condition and his Sister.
Written by One who did reside in the Family.' (8vo, 1728.) After the
death of his wife, Bellario falls in love with his sister Lindamira.
Various sentimental letters pass between the two, and eventually
Bellario in despair pistols himself. The lady lives to wed another
admirer. The tale was obviously suggested by the _Love Letters between a
Nobleman and his Sister_.
[Footnote 1: There are three MSS. _Vernon MS._, Oxford, edited by
Horstmann; _MS. Cott_, _Cleop. D. ix_, British Museum; _Auchinleck
MS._, Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, edited with glossary by
F. Schultz, 1876.]
[Footnote 2: cf. Masuccio. _Il Novellino_, No. 23.]
[Footnote 3: Bandello's novels first appeared at Lucca, 4to, 1554.
Marguerite of Angouleme died 21 December, 1549. The _Heptameron_
was composed 1544-8 and published 1558.]
THE DUMB VIRGIN: or, the Force of Imagination.
_Rinaldo_, a Senator of the great City _Venice_, by a plentiful
Inheritance, and industrious Acquisitions, was become Master of a very
plentiful Estate; which, by the Countenance of his Family, sprung from
the best Houses in _Italy_, had rendred him extreamly popular and
honoured; he had risen to the greatest Dignities of that State, all
which Offices he discharged with Wisdom and Conduct, befitting the
Importance of his Charge, and Character of the Manager; but this great
Person had some Accident in his Children, sufficient to damp all the
Pleasure of his more smiling Fortunes; he married when young,
a beautiful and virtuous Lady, who had rendred him the happy Father of a
Son; but his Joys were soon disturbed by the following Occasion.
There stands an Island in the _Adriatick_ Sea, about twenty Leagues from
_Venice_, a Place wonderfully pleasant in the Summer, where Art and
Nature seem to out-rival each other, or seem rather to combine in
rendring it the most pleasant of their products; being placed under the
most benign climate in the World, and situated exactly between _Italy_
and _Greece_, it appears an entire Epitome of all the Pleasures in them
both; the proper glories of the Island were not a little augmented by
the confluence of Gentlemen and Ladies of the chiefest Rank in the City,
insomuch that this was a greater mark for Beauty and Gallantry, than
_Venice_ for Trade. Among others _Rinaldo's_ Lady begged her Husband's
permission to view this so much celebrated place.
He was unwilling to trust his treasure to the treachery of the watry
element; but repeating her request, he yielded to her desires, his love
not permitting him the least shew of command, and so thro' its extent,
conspiring its own destruction. His Lady with her young Son (whom she
would not trust from her sight) and a splendid attendance in a Barge
well fitted, sets out for the Island, _Rinaldo_ being detained at home
himself about some important affairs relating to the publick, committed
the care of his dear Wife and Child to a faithful Servant call'd
_Gaspar_; and for their greater security against Pyrates, had obtained
his Brother, who commanded a _Venetian_ Galley, to attend them as
Convoy. In the evening they set out from _Venice_, with a prosperous
gale, but a storm arising in the night, soon separated the Barge from
her Convoy, and before morning drove her beyond the designed Port, when,
instead of discovering the wish'd-for Island, they could see a _Turkish_
Pyrate bearing towards them, with all her Sail; their late apprehensions
of Shipwrack, were drowned in the greater danger of Captivity and
lasting Slavery, their fears drove some into resolutions as extravagant
as the terrors that caused them, but the confusion of all was so
tumultuous, and the designs so various, that nothing could be put in
execution for the publick safety; the greatest share of the passengers
being Ladies, added strangely to the consternation; beauty always adds a
pomp to woe, and by its splendid show, makes sorrow look greater and
more moving. Some by their piteous plaints and wailings proclaimed their
griefs aloud, whilst others bespoke their sorrows more emphatically by
sitting mournfully silent; the fears of some animated them to
extravagant actions, whilst the terrors of others were so mortifying,
that they shewed no sign of Life, but by their trembling; some mourned
the rigour of their proper fate, others conscious of the sorrows their
Friends and Relations should sustain through their loss, made the griefs
of them their own; but the heaviest load of misfortunes lay on
_Rinaldo's_ Lady, besides the loss of her liberty, the danger of her
honour, the separation from her dear Husband, the care for her tender
Infant wrought rueful distractions; she caught her Child in her Arms,
and with Tears extorted thro' Fear and Affection, she deplor'd the
Misfortune of her Babe, the pretty Innocent smiling in the Embraces of
its Mother, shew'd that Innocence cou'd deride the Persecution of
Fortune; at length she delivered the Infant into the Hand of _Gasper_,
begging him to use all Endeavours in its Preservation, by owning it for
his, when they fell into the Hands of the Enemy.
But _Gasper_, who amidst the universal Consternation, had a peculiar
Regard to his own Safety, and Master's Interest, undertook a Design
desperately brave. Two long Planks, which lay lengthwise in the Barge,
as Seats, he had ty'd together with Ropes, and taking the Infant from
the Mother, whilst the whole Vessel was in a distracted Confusion, he
fast'ned it to the Planks, and shoving both over-board before him,
plung'd into the Sea after, dragging the Planks that bore the Infant
with one Hand, and swimming with t'other, making the next Land; he had
swam about two hundred Paces from the Barge before his Exploit was
discover'd, but then the Griefs of _Rinaldo's_ Lady were doubly
augmented, seeing her Infant expos'd to the Fury of the merciless Winds
and Waves, which she then judged more rigorous than the _Turks_; for to
a weak Mind, that Danger works still the strongest, that's most in View;
but when the Pirate, who by this time had fetch'd them within Shot,
began to Fire, she seem'd pleas'd that her Infant was out of that
Hazard, tho' exposed to a greater. Upon their Sign of yielding, the
_Turk_ launching out her Boat, brought them all on board her; but she
had no time to examine her Booty, being saluted by a Broadside,
vigorously discharg'd from a _Venetian_ Galley, which bore down upon
them, whilst they were taking aboard their Spoil; this Galley was that
commanded by _Rinaldo's_ Brother, which cruising that Way in quest of
the Barge, happily engag'd the _Turk_, before they had Leisure to offer
any Violence to the Ladies, and plying her warmly the Space of two
Hours, made her a Prize, to the inexpressible Joy of the poor Ladies,
who all this time under Hatches, had sustain'd the Horrors of ten
thousand Deaths by dreading one.
All the greater Dangers over, _Rinaldo's_ Lady began to reflect on the
strange Riddle of her Son's Fortune, who by shunning one Fate, had
(in all Probability) fallen into a worse, for they were above ten
Leagues from any Land, and the Sea still retain'd a Roughness, unsettled
since the preceeding Storm; she therefore begg'd her Brother-in-Law to
Sail with all Speed in Search of her Son and _Gasper_; but all in vain,
for cruising that Day, and the succeeding Night along the Coasts,
without making any Discovery of what they sought, he sent a Boat to be
inform'd by the Peasants, of any such Landing upon their Coast; but they
soon had a dismal Account, finding the Body of _Gasper_ thrown dead on
the Sand, and near to him the Planks, the unhappy Occasion of his
Flight, and the Faithless Sustainers of the Infant. So thinking these
mournful Objects Testimonies enough of the Infant's Loss, they return'd
with the doleful Relation to their Captain and the Lady; her Grief at
the recital of the Tragic Story, had almost transported her to Madness;
what Account must she now make to the mournful Father, who esteem'd this
Child the chief Treasure of his Life; she fear'd, that she might forfeit
the Affection of a Husband, by being the unfortunate Cause of so great a
Loss; but her Fears deceiv'd her, for altho' her Husband, receiv'd her
with great Grief, 'twas nevertheless moderated by the Patience of a
Christian, and the Joy for recovering his beloved Lady.
This Misfortune was soon lessen'd by the growing Hopes of another
Off-spring, which made them divest their Mourning, to make Preparations
for the joyful Reception of this new Guest into the World; and upon its
Appearance their Sorrows were redoubled, 'twas a Daughter, its Limbs
were distorted, its Back bent, and tho' the face was the freest from
Deformity, yet had it no Beauty to Recompence the Dis-symetry of the
other Parts; Physicians being consulted in this Affair, derived the
Cause from the Frights and dismal Apprehensions of the Mother, at her
being taken by the Pyrates; about which time they found by Computation,
the Conception of the Child to be; the Mother grew very Melancholy,
rarely speaking, and not to be comforted by any Diversion. She conceiv'd
again, but no hopes of better Fortune cou'd decrease her Grief, which
growing with her Burden, eased her of both at once, for she died in
Child-birth, and left the most beautiful Daughter to the World that ever
adorn'd _Venice_, but naturally and unfortunately Dumb, which defect the
learn'd attributed to the Silence and Melancholy of the Mother, as the
Deformity of the other was to the Extravagance of her Frights.
_Rinaldo_, waving all Intentions of a second Marriage, directs his
Thoughts to the Care of his Children, their Defects not lessening his
Inclination, but stirring up his Endeavours in supplying the Defaults of
Nature by the Industry of Art; he accordingly makes the greatest
Provision for their Breeding and Education, which prov'd so effectual in
a little Time, that their Progress was a greater Prodigy than
themselves.
The Eldest, called _Belvideera_, was indefatigably addicted to Study,
which she had improv'd so far, that by the sixteenth Year of her Age,
she understood all the _European_ Languages, and cou'd speak most of'em,
but was particularly pleas'd with the _English_, which gave me the
Happiness of many Hours Conversation with her; and I may ingenuously
declare, 'twas the most Pleasant I ever enjoy'd, for besides a piercing
Wit, and depth of Understanding peculiar to herself, she delivered her
Sentiments with that easiness and grace of Speech, that it charm'd all
her Hearers.
The Beauties of the second Sister, nam'd _Maria_, grew with her Age,
every twelve Months saluting her with a New-years Gift of some peculiar
Charm; her Shapes were fine set off with a graceful and easy Carriage;
the Majesty and Softness of her Face, at once wrought Love and
Veneration; the Language of her Eyes sufficiently paid the Loss of her
Tongue, and there was something so Commanding in her Look, that it
struck every Beholder as dumb as herself; she was a great Proficient in
Painting, which puts me in mind of a notable Story I can't omit; her
Father had sent for the most Famous Painter in _Italy_ to draw her
Picture, she accordingly sat for it; he had drawn some of the Features
of her Face; and coming to the Eye, desired her to give him as brisk and
piercing a Glance as she cou'd; but the Vivacity of her Look so
astonished the Painter, that thro' concern he let his Pencil drop and
spoiled the Picture; he made a second Essay, but with no better Success,
for rising in great Disorder, he swore it impossible to draw that which
he cou'd not look upon; the Lady vexed at the Weakness of the Painter,
took up his Pencils and the Picture, and sitting down to her Glass,
finished it herself; she had improv'd her silent Conversation with her
Sister so far, that she was understood by her, as if she had spoke, and
I remember this Lady was the first I saw use the significative Way of
Discourse by the Fingers; I dare not say 'twas she invented it (tho' it
probably might have been an Invention of these ingenious Sisters) but I
am positive none before her ever brought it to that Perfection.
In the seventeenth of _Belvideera's_, and sixteenth Year of _Maria's_
Age, _Francisco_, Brother to _Rinaldo_, was made Admiral of the
_Venetian_ Fleet, and upon his first Entrance upon his Command, had
obtained a signal Victory over the _Turks_; he returning to _Venice_
with Triumph, applause and spoil, presented to the great Duke a young
_English_ Gentleman, who only as a Volunteer in the Action, had
signalized himself very bravely in the Engagement, but particularly by
first boarding the _Turkish_ Admiral Galley, and killing her Commander
hand to hand; the Fame of this Gentleman soon spread over all _Venice_,
and the two Sisters sent presently for me, to give an Account of the
Exploits of my Countryman, as their Unkle had recounted it to them;
I was pleas'd to find so great an Example of _English_ Bravery, so far
from Home, and long'd extreamly to converse with him, vainly flattering
myself, that he might have been of my Acquaintance. That very Night
there was a grand Ball and Masquerade at the great Duke's Palace, for
the most signal Joy of the late Success, thither _Belvideera_ invited me
to Accompany her and _Maria_, adding withal as a Motive, that we might
there most probably meet, and Discourse with this young Hero; and
equipping me with a Suit of Masquerade, they carried me in their Coach
to the Ball, where we had pass'd half an Hour, when I saw enter a
handsom Gentleman in a rich _English_ Dress; I show'd him to
_Belvideera_, who moving towards him, with a gallant Air, slaps him on
the Shoulder with her Fan, he turning about, and viewing her Person, the
Defaults of which were not altogether hidden by her Disguise; 'Sir,
(said he) if you are a Man, know that I am one, and will not bear
Impertinence; but, if you are a Lady, Madam, as I hope in Heavens you
are not, I must inform you, that I am under a Vow, not to converse with
any Female to Night;' 'Know then, Sir, (answered _Belvideera_ very
smartly) that I am a Female, and you have broke your Vow already; but
methinks, Sir, the Ladies are very little oblig'd to your Vow, which
wou'd rob them of the Conversation of so fine a Gentleman.'
'Madam, (said the Gentleman) the Sweetness of your Voice bespeaks you a
Lady, and I hope the breaking my Vow will be so far from Damning me,
that I shall thereby merit Heaven, if I may be blest in your Divine
Conversation.' _Belvideera_ made such ingenious and smart Repartees to
the Gentleman, who was himself a great Courtier, that he was entirely
captivated with her Wit, insomuch, that he cou'd not refrain making
Protestations of his Passion; he talked about half an Hour in such pure
_Italian_, that I began to mistrust my _Englishman_, wherefore taking
some Occasion to jest upon his Habit, I found 'twas only a Masquerade to
cloak a down-right _Venetian_; in the mean Time, we perceiv'd a
Gentleman Gallantly attir'd with no Disguise but a _Turkish_ Turbant on,
the richliest beset with Jewels I ever saw; he addressed _Maria_ with
all the Mien and Air of the finest Courtier; he had talked to her a good
while before we heard him, but then _Belvideera_, knowing her poor
Sister uncapable of any Defence, 'Sir, (said she to the _Venetian_,)
yonder is a Lady of my Acquaintance, who lies under a Vow of Silence as
you were, I must therefore beg your Pardon, and fly to her Relief': 'She
can never be conquer'd, who has such a Champion,' (reply'd the
Gentleman) upon which _Belvideera_ turning from him, interpos'd between
the Gentleman and her Sister, saying, 'This Lady, Sir, is under an
Obligation of Silence, as a Penance imposed by her Father-Confessor.'
'Madam, (reply'd the Gentleman) whoever impos'd Silence on these fair
Lips, is guilty of a greater Offence than any, such a fair Creature
cou'd commit.' 'Why, Sir, (said _Belvideera_) have you seen the Lady's
Beauty': 'Yes, Madam, (answer'd he) for urging her to talk, which I
found she declin'd, I promis'd to disengage her from any farther
Impertinence, upon a Sight of her Face; she agreed by paying the Price
of her Liberty, which was ransom enough for any Thing under Heavens, but
her fair Company'; he spoke in an Accent that easily shew'd him a
Stranger; which _Belvideera_ laying hold of, as an Occasion of Railery,
'Sir, (said she,) your Tongue pronounces you a great Stranger in this
Part of the World, I hope you are not what that Turbant represents;
perhaps, Sir, you think your self in the Seraglio'; 'Madam,
(reply'd he,) this Turbant might have been in the _Turkish_ Seraglio,
but never in so fair a one as this; and this Turbant (taking it off) is
now to be laid at the Foot of some Christian Lady, for whose safety, and
by whose protecting Influence, I had the Happiness to win it from the
Captain of the _Turkish_ Admiral Galley.' We were all surpriz'd, knowing
him then the young _English_ Gentleman, we were so curious of seeing;
_Belvideera_ presently talk'd _English_ to him, and made him some very
pretty Complements upon his Victory, which so charm'd the young Soldier,
that her Tongue claim'd an equal Share in his Heart with _Maria's_ Eyes;
'Madam, (said he to her) if you have the Beauty of that Lady, or if she
has your Wit, I am the most happy, or the most unfortunate Man alive.'
'Sir,' said the _Venetian_ coming up, 'pray give me leave to share in
your Misfortunes.' 'Sir, (said _Belvideera_ very smartly) you must share
in his good Fortunes, and learn to conquer Men, before you have the
Honour of being subdu'd by Ladies, we scorn mean Prizes, Sir.' 'Madam,
(said the _Venetian_ in some Choler) perhaps I can subdue a Rival.'
'Pray, Sir, (said the Stranger) don't be angry with the Lady, she's not
your Rival I hope, Sir.' Said the _Venetian_, 'I can't be angry at the
Lady, because I love her; but my Anger must be levell'd at him, who
after this Declaration dare own a Passion for her.' 'Madam, (said the
_English_ Gentleman turning from the _Venetian_) Honour now must extort
a Confession from me, which the Awfulness of my Passion durst never have
own'd: And I must declare,' added he in a louder Voice, 'to all the
World, that I love you, lest this Gentleman shou'd think his Threats
forc'd me to disown it.' 'O! then (said _Belvideera_) you're his Rival
in Honour, not in Love.' 'In honourable Love I am, Madam,' answer'd the
Stranger. 'I'll try,' (said the _Venetian_, going off in Choler,) he
Whisper'd a little to a Gentleman, that stood at some Distance, and
immediately went out; this was _Gonzago_, a Gentleman of good Reputation
in _Venice_, his Principles were Honour and Gallantry, but the Former
often sway'd by Passions, rais'd by the Latter. All this while, _Maria_
and I were admiring the Stranger, whose Person was indeed wonderfully
Amiable; his Motions were exact, yet free and unconstrain'd; the Tone of
his Voice carried a sweet Air of Modesty in it, yet were all his
Expressions manly; and to summ up all, he was as fine an _English_
Gentleman, as I ever saw Step in the _Mall_.
Poor _Maria_ never before envied her Sister the Advantage of Speech, or
never deplor'd the Loss of her own with more Regret, she found something
so Sweet in the Mien, Person, and Discourse of this Stranger, that her
Eyes felt a dazling Pleasure in beholding him, and like flattering
Mirrours represented every Action and Feature, with some heightning
Advantage to her Imagination: _Belvideera_ also had some secret Impulses
of Spirit, which drew her insensibly into a great Esteem of the
Gentleman; she ask'd him, by what good Genius, propitious to _Venice_,
he was induced to Live so remote from his Country; he said, that he
cou'd not imploy his Sword better than against the common Foe of
Christianity; and besides, there was a peculiar Reason, which prompted
him to serve there, which Time cou'd only make known. I made bold to ask
him some peculiar Questions, about Affairs at Court, to most of which he
gave Answers, that shew'd his Education liberal, and himself no Stranger
to Quality; he call'd himself _Dangerfield_, which was a Name that so
pleas'd me, that being since satisfied it was a Counterfeit, I us'd it
in a Comedy of mine: We had talk'd 'till the greater Part of the Company
being dispers'd, _Dangerfield_ begg'd Leave to attend us to our Coach,
and waiting us to the Door, the Gentleman, whom _Gonzago_ whisper'd,
advanc'd and offer'd his Service to hand _Maria_; she declin'd it, and
upon his urging, she turn'd to the other Side of _Dangerfield_, who, by
this Action of the Ladies finding himself intitled to her Protection,
'Sir, (said he) Favours from great Beauties, as from great Monarchs,
must flow Voluntarily, not by Constraint, and whosoever wou'd extort
from either, are liable to the great Severity of Punishment.' 'Oh! Sir,
(reply'd the _Venetian_ very arrogantly,) I understand not your
Monarchy, we live here under a free State; besides, Sir, where there is
no Punishment to be dreaded, the Law will prove of little Force; and so,
Sir, by your Leave,' offering to push him aside, and lay hold on the
Lady. _Dangerfield_ returned the Justle so vigorously, that the
_Venetian_ fell down the Descent of some Stairs at the Door, and broke
his Sword: _Dangerfield_ leap'd down after him, to prosecute his
Chastizement, but seeing his Sword broken, only whisper'd him, that if
he wou'd meet him next Morning at Six, at the Back-part of St. _Mark's_
Church, he wou'd satisfie him for the Loss of his Sword; upon which, the
_Venetian_ immediately went off, cursing his ill Fate, that prevented
his quarrelling with _Dangerfield_, to whom he had born a grudging Envy
ever since his Success in the late Engagement, and of whom, and his
Lodgings, he had given _Gonzago_ an Account, when he whisper'd him at
the Ball. _Dangerfield_ left us full of his Praises, and went home to
his Lodgings, where he found a Note directed to him to this Effect: