CHAP. I.

DId I desire to frame the foun­dations of a true story upon a tale, I might say the earth never produced the equall of Minerva, and deriving her o­riginall from heaven, it were not onely a lye, but blasphe­my to bring her backe againe to earth. So then [Page 2] let us not speake untruths for feare of lying, nor let us blaspheme for feare of blasphemy; fable hath no part in this discourse, the Star by which I meane to steere my course, being truth it selfe. This here is not that Minerva the Goddesse, but a woman whose cleere minde and brave spirit hath acquired her the name of that Pallas presi­dent of Art and Armes; her birth was not of the head of Iupiter, but of an illustrious family, the worth whereof hath beene ere whiles graced with the most honourable charges of this Realm, her father having left her very young, she was married at 9 yeeres old to a husband but of ele­ven; and as the one nor the other were then ca­pable of love, they produced no other but hate. Her desire to be divorced from one she loved not, caused her come to solicite her affaires at Pa­ris, where her beauty did acquire her rather ser­vants then Iudges; and where her youth more proper to the exercises of love, then businesse of law, rendred her apter to hearken to the suits of her servants, then to give eare to, or prosecute her necessary suits. I know not whether she were cru­ell or favourable on their behalfe, but certaine am I that the Sejan horse was never more unhap­py to his Masters, then she to some of her ser­vants. Whilest she followed her affaires, Bala­myr was the first of whose service she admitted. I have heard him say, she esteemed more of his valour, then she loved his person, and that her vanity to captivate so great a courage, caused her suffer the importunity of his pursuit, their love [Page 3] became hatred: Balamyr, were it through judge­ment or inconstancy, with, or without cause, quit her for another Mistresse, and was unlamented of Minerva sometime after slaine. But she conti­nued not without a servant, for she wonne on all she would, and she would win on all she could: and for all that she complained here sometimes of the miserable conquests she made against her will. She made no acquisition but to her profit, and wherewith she served not her selfe in some designe or other. See here the cause why she contemned not the affection of Crassus, howsoe­ver his ill shape, and worse favour, rendred him sufficiently contemptible. But Arnolph was he that most feelingly touched her to heart, all the rest were amorous of her, and she only of him. It was not that his services or quality obliged her to love him more then ordinary: it was a certain inclination proceeded of the sympathy in their wils, and I know not what feminine humour more taken with a soothing observance, or hand­some legge making, then with all the faire quali­ties or good parts can be in a man, or the faith­fullest services that can be rendred them. Many others fell into the snares of Minerva, whose vul­gar affections merit not a particular history, but she kept alwaies a kinde of order in the receit of such as she intended to inregister in number of her subjects: for when she began to favour Ar­nolph, she was fallen off with Crassus, and never was reunited during the life of Arnolph. Not­withstanding she accepted of Adraste, when she [Page 4] was yet ingaged, and suffered that he sighed for her, whilest she languished for another. But A­draste accompanied his affection with so much respect, as sufficed to have begotten pride even in humility it selfe, and besides was so sensible of offences, and so tenderly feeling the least cold­nesse, that he would not have suffered them from a Goddesse, which was the cause that at some time or other he spoiled all his Mistresses, and then that he undid himselfe too: for that seeming not so much to love as to adore them, he so rai­sed their haughty humour and naturall vanity above the condition of their sexe, and gave them so absolute an Empire, as himselfe was not able to live under, so as he lost often by impatience, what he had acquired by much passion: he threw well, but he plaid his game ill. The first occasion of breach between him and Minerva, was but slight, and more capritious then reasonable: as for the most part there appeares in the processe of love, more rage then reason, but it was fol­lowed by a mistake that is very pleasant. Adraste being at Minerva's, with one Thymon a fine com­panion, & of a good wit, whom Minerva not disli­ked of: after having entertained them some time in a low room, shee intreated them up the stairs, which were at the going out of the room, of suf­ficient breadth for two, but too narrow for three. When Minerva being about to ascend, observed them both, looking one or the other of them would take her by the hand, and seeing both to recoile and step back, she goes up her selfe for­most, [Page 5] as to shew them the way. Adraste forbore to take her hand, for that it seemed to him she had first looked on Thymon, and Thymon abstained to assist her, out of respect to Adraste, who tur­ning about, got him out of doors, saying nothing to one or other, but went his way. There was no­thing but love, & that in choler could cause him commit so great a discourtesie: Minerva marvel­led not a litle, and Thymon was more astonished at it. But Adraste went not alone, for the vexation hebore along with him, made the greater part of himselfe. After a profound consideration of the fury of his disease, accusing yet his Mistresse of his owne fault, he resolved with himself to com­plaine, and found not a better meanes to mitti­gate his griefe, then (if it might be,) to disburthen himselfe of it upon paper, he wrote to Minerva, That since for honouring her without any obligation, she had slighted him without cause, making him un­dergoe such punishments as hee was unworthy of▪ in place of the recompence he merited; hee was resolved to keepe his services for other favours, since she kept her favours for other Lovers. I know well said hee, that this will adde to your cantentment, and still more aggravate my discontents: but the more violent they shall be, the lesse lasting you had not been so ill to me, had you not found mee still so good, but however it be the effect of a low spirit, to take occasion from the goodnesse of any one to use them ill, I never yet shall alter mine, to revenge me ought of your bad usage. I doe confesse that I thus breake with you▪ in the most extremity of griefe I ever suffered yet, or ever can [Page 6] and which I never shall recover whilest I live, and that if the wounds of the minde endure after death, eternity it selfe must onely be the tearme of their con­tinuance. But I shall chuse to breath my afflictions elsewhere, or smother them in my owne breast, or that they smother me, then to increase them daily with new indignities. And if you wonder that I have taken so small an occasion, having heretofore passed by so great ones, remember that they are not the greatest sicknesses, but they are the last that doe bring death: and that it is no marvell that so slight a disfa­vour succeeding so many other insupportable ones, should now conclude the lesse of what you have so many times neglected. Hee gave this Letter to a servant that Minerva knew not to belong to him, with his commands, that so soon as hee had delivered it to her own hands, he should not stay for her answer. It was done just as he willed, this man went his ways to Minerva, to whom presenting the Letter, he told her, that his Master most humbly kissed her hands; Who is he? said she. Madam answered he, that you shall finde in his Letters. Have a little pa­tience then answered Minerva, which saying, she stepped into her Cabinet, as well to peruse as to write an answer to her Letter, when she saw it was not signed, the desire and impatience she former­ly had to know the Author of it, was now by the difficultie redoubled. She staid upon it some time to bethink her if she could divine therof by the character. At last, being able to gather nothing from thence, she commanded that they made the [Page 7] messenger come in, but they found that hee was already gone, and with such haste, as all sight of him was lost. As yet, had Adraste never wrote unto her before this time, and Minerva not think­ing that shee had given him any cause of dislike, no way suspected him for this Letter. But Cras­sus being discontented at her, and shee yet much more offended at Crassus, shee imagined it an ef­fect of his ill will. And therupon writing back to him in the heat of her choler, and despight, and in the rage and violence of her first motions, shee returned him the most bloudy and injurious Let­ter, that a furious and revengfull woman could bethink her of against a man. So as Monsieur Cras­sus that had been before offended by her, and ex­pected rather to be satisfied, farre from what he looked for, received an amends much worse then the offence. In the mean while, was Adraste un­able to suffer the absence of his Mistris, and yet was unhappily banisht her presence, hee desired with all impatience to see her, yet obstinately shunned he all occasions of seeing her, seeking and fearing in one and the same time to meet her, a troublesome passion that brings us to will, and not to will in the same time one and the same thing. In matter of love a diverting on some other object, is no little helpe; Adraste endeavoured what he could to divert himselfe, and thinking to lose the remembrance of his malady, found it even in the same divertisement. Hee went to see a friend of his called Periste, that tooke him a long to supper with him in the Suburbs of Saint [Page 8] Germans, with a certaine Gentlewoman named Oristene, to oblige him by a double pleasure he added to the daintinesse of their fare, the delight of Musicke joyning with 4 or 5 Lutes, as many excellent voyces, of which Oristenas was the most excellent. All which did but more ripen the griefes of Adraste, and by the object of such felicity, but represent the more to him his un­happinesse. It was that time of the yeare when the longest daies make the evenings most de­lightfull, and dispose lovers still to give or re­ceive your serenades or evening musickes, which awakened a marvellous desire in the heart of A­draste, to present Minerva with one. All the com­pany agreed to it, Oristena her self would make one of the party, which that she might doe with the more convenience, she changed the attire of her sex, and put on mans apparell. They set her on a foot cloth nag, and all the rest beating along on the hoofe, they left her lodging, just as the day left our horizon. Oristene lodged in the most re­mote quarters of the suburbs, and Minerva in the middest of the City, so as to goe from the one to the other, the directest way was through S. Germans street: when they were come so farre as the Well in that street, some 50 paces from the Abby, Oristena calling to her Page, which indeed was but a Laquay, was by her voyce knowne of some 4 or 5 that would needs lay hands on her horse bridle. The Musicians who were they that were neerest to her, having drunk too much, and not understanding things aright, began to draw [Page 9] their swords, and charge upon them. These Roysters defended themselves, and but for A­draste that opposed himself unto their weapons, and making some by good words, others by threats retire, appeased the first tumult, there had been some extraordinary hurt done. They shea­thed all their swords but one onely, that looked as if he would have eat them all at a bit. Adrastes choler rose then above his wisedome, to curbe; and doe you only Sir said he, forbeare notwith­standing the wary example of your fellowes, and therwithall passed 5 or 6 thrusts just at the throat of him, and with so ready and able a pursuit, as the other warding and giving backe, without having leisure to strike one stroke, or speake a word, found himself retired so far as the Serjeants barres, which is at the end of that street: and then Sir said he, what injury have I done you? you have not put up your sword for love said Adraste, which I by force will now make you sheath: that needs not Sir, I will put it up upon your word Sir, replyed he: do so then answered A­draste, or you are but dead: he sheaths his weapon, and thereupon Adraste returned towards his friends, and the other followed him, who desi­red likewise to finde his. So soone as they came neer the Well where they had left them, Adraste found not any of his company, but in place, two men bearing a third under the armes, who as be­moaning himselfe, cryed with a faint and dying voyce, I am slain: he that followed Adraste, knowing they were his frie nds, one of which [Page 10] was run thorow the body, drew his sword on A­draste, and tilting at his back, cryed out, the mur­therer, the murtherer, this is he that did it: wher­upon all the others at once fell upon him, and the hurt man not able to do more, fell a crying, kill, kill, kill. Adraste had much better have returned toward the Abby, then have gone forwards, for he had not found any other to encounter, then he that followed him, who would nere have stood him, but desiring to overtake his company, and beleeving that they were got into the City by S. Germans gate, in pursuit of their first intenti­ons, he flew amongst the thickest of them before him, who made him way, on the violence of his fury, and having let him passe, followed him full close along the butchery, did he not finde thinke you, his legs more usefull to him then his armes? Adraste had a little English foot-boy, who was by when the man was run thorow, and having seen part taking on all sides but his Masters, stood him close up at a Butchers dore, with a bottle of wine in his hand, which he set down so soon as he see his Master so pursued, and suddenly run­ning from his place, cryed out, courage Sir, here be all your friends; which words so replaced the heart of Adraste in his body, and put such afright in his enemies, as they all turned their backs so soon as he turned head upon them. For they all thought it true Adraste, for that he desired it, and they because they feared that Adraste having cau­sed them to flee that had pursued him, and liking better of their rooms then companies, demanded [Page 11] of his boy what was become of Periste, Oristena, and the rest that he left there. In good faith Ma­ster, said he, I know not, but seeing you so hard­ly put to it, I thought it best to say they were all here. It was not ill done, said Adraste, but let us go see if they be not gone into the City. As they went, the whole suburbs were in tumult, for these villaines in flying, had given the alaram every where, crying out, that they massacred Monsieur, the Princes officers, so as all was in rout, in hub­bub, and affray, which made Adraste make more haste to the gate of the City, hoping that his company were already entred, and that himself should finde with them more assurance there, then without in the suburbs. But he found the gates already shut, and one of his Chanters on the bridge, like another Orpheus at the gates of hell, but that he intreated Pluto to let out to him Euridice, and others here begged leave of the Porter to let him into the City. Adraste asked him what he made there, what was become of the company, and wherefore they had all left him so. I know nothing as concerning your two last demands said he, but to the first I stay here to have them open me the gate, for me thinks the whole suburbs are raised upon us, and would to God I were gone with the losse of my Lute. As he yet talked, they perceived a company of some 30 or 40 persons that came towards them, by the light of ten or a dozen torches that were carried before them. So soon as Adraste saw them, he conceived that they were people assem­bled [Page 12] together to take him, and fearing to be so surprised against a gate that was shut against him, not having elswhere passage then amongst them, he resolved to make himselfe way by his sword, as he had done a little before, but with as much more apparence of danger, as here were many more people: he expected to be slain, but he chose rather to dye, then to be taken. Wherfore looking amongst them, and making a flourish with his sword naked in his hand, he rushed through the middest of this multitude; as it had been a mad man. Never in his life was Adraste so happy▪ all this heard of people fled, some here, and some there, and gave him no lesse room then the whole street; he passed them like thunder, and fled much marvelled at so admirable a suc­cesse: he need not feare following, for the others fled as fast on the other side. But there were so great a number of them, that (not seeing any of­fence neer them when he was gone) they took hart at grasse, as we say, and finding the Musician and Laquay that had not the heart to flye, they laid hands on them. Note that it was a band of Comedians going to act before Monsieur the Prince, accompanied with many others, as well women as men, who thinking of nothing lesse then of the adventure of Adraste, were put in greater afright then he. The Musician thought himselfe already hanged, and the foot-boy at least flead alive; but seeing thēselves not accused for having kild or hurt any one, and that they were onely demanded, who this mad man was [Page 13] that had so furiously routed them, they escaped by denyall, and were quit by saying they knew nothing of the matter. Adraste in the mean time went his way backe all alone to the house of Ori­stene, where he found that Periste had brought her back again, yet shaking with the feare this acci­dent had caused in her. Well said Periste, so soon as he saw Adraste enter, much mooved with for­tunes he had run; I beleeve it will be this two dayes before you desire again to give your Sere­nades or your Aubades more to Minerva. I am now ready as ever to return, answered Adraste, but I assure you it shall be alone, for either I will ingage me in no quarrels, or I will not leave my friends engaged in them after I have my self be­gun them, which I speake not concerning you, for besides that as I know well that you began not this, so had you enough to do to disingage O­ristine; But was it possible that four or five ras­cals should so easily rout so many honest good fellowes? As you betook you to your sword a­gainst that angry blade that would by no meanes sheath up his, said Periste, his companions like­wise took them to theirs, I seeing them to runne after you, threw the formost of them to the earth with a thrust I made, which stayed and took them all short up. Indeed we were the grea­ter number, but the most of us had no other wea­pons then their Lutes, which they threw away the better to flye. Whilest they made away, and the others took up their hurt man, I had the op­portunity to bring back Oristene. You have done [Page 14] what you ought, and I what I could said Adraste, assuring you that I beleeve there was never Knight errant that in one evening had two such adventures or so strange as I have had since sup­per; nor know I well if I may dare to tell them, since I can hardly beleeve them my selfe. Then discoursed he to them what had happened to him, and they knew not, lessening yet the num­ber of those through whom he had forcibly pas­sed, for feare they should think it but a tale. But the Musician and footman which he beleeved dead, or at the least prisoners, upon the conclusi­on of his story arriving, no little renewed his wonder, for he could not imagine how they had escaped. But how went you to work said he, for I left yon invironed by fifteen or twenty people, from whom I scarse hoped that ever you or my selfe should have gotten free. Indeed Sir said the boy, they were 30 of them or more, but they dreamt not of you, and they had more feare in them then they could put you in. And then the Musician told them that they were certain Co­medians followed by many Lawyers and other gowned people, the most part of whom took their wives along with them to the play, which was to be acted at Monsieur the Princes Court. I wondred indeed how I came so valiant, answe­red Adraste, but now the marvell is over since I finde with what manner of people I had to doe. To all this discourse poore Oristine said never a word, though she thought nere the lesse, doubt­ing much that she should pay deere for this piece [Page 15] of folly, as indeed she did: for the next day A­draste and Periste having taken leave of her, the Kings Officer in those cases, failed not to visit her house, letting her understand, he would informe against the ryot committed the evening before, and to garnish his Majesties pockets, as the French hath it, began with the seisure of her goods. But not to make a starre-Chamber suit of this in place of a love story, we will leave Oristi­ne to her suits, and follow the affections of Mi­nerva.

CHAP. II.

NO misfortune but may bring good to some, the disparagement of Ori­stene, was cause of the reconcilia­tion of Adraste with Minerva. She for Adrastes sake, took some pains on the behalfe of Oristene, and then could Adra­ste do no lesse then go home to her, and thank her for it, where a peace was no sooner treated then concluded. Hee craved pardon for his Letter, which, was indeed to excuse him of a fault that none knew that he had done; so Minerva recoun­ted to him the mistake that it had caused her to make. Though she loved not Adraste, yet shee liked well to retain him for a friend, or at least [Page 17] not to have him as an enemy, so as for sometime he governed her very peaceably, by day he wal­ked with her to the Gardens of Ruel, and those of Saint Germans, and by night he accompanied her to the accustomed places of bathing by moon-shine at the Tournelles, and afterwards ha­ving carrried her back to her house, and passed the most of the night with her, he usually retired all alone, without light from the one end of the City to the other. Of 1000 men scarce shall ye finde one that would for 1000 women, do what he did for this one. Notwithstanding one conge, one salute of Arnolphe wayed more in the estima­tion of Minerva, than all the services of Adraste. After some time, debating the matter with him, she confessed to him, what indeeed she could not deny. The same passion you have for me, said she, I have for him, and sigheth as often for his love, as you for mine. But I tell you a secret, I should be loth he should discover; & I swear to you by the love I beare him, that he hath never received the satisfaction therin which you have had, nor once hath hee pretended to it, however you have recei­ved but what I might with, mine honour, grant. Arnolphe was a stranger, without name, quality, or estate, that entertained Minerva with discourses of his own lightnesse, inconstancy, and the Tro­phes he reared therby to his vanity, ye, even to the prejudice of that discretion, ought to be used in like cases. But she, as if shee had had power to render him as well faithfull, as loving, beleeved that he would become better to her, than God [Page 18] himself had made him, lived encharmed with­in the circle of a faith much more amorous then reasonable. Adraste told her all these things, and that he much marvelled that already having bin deceived by one inconstant man shee could yet a­gain set her affections, on an other more to be doubted then the first. But said she, this is bad Rhetorick in you, to speak ill, with intention to cause me wish you well. I cannot be so perfect as you goe about to make me beleeve of my selfe, if so I have not judgement sufficient to make an e­lection worthy me. And grant that he wanteth all those qualites you speake of, yet ought not my affection to be the lesse, that is not tyed at all unto the qualities and fortunes of a man, but meerely to his vertues and his demerits. Then did Adraste take the course is seldome used a­mongst Rivals; Since it is so said he, that your will and pleasure beares you to this, I will by no meanes stand in opposition: It being altogether reasonlesse, that you having the power you have upon my liberty, should not have the like upon your own. In my example you shall see allover, that doth for the love of his Mistresse, love his rivall. I will for your love serve him, to the end that you even for his sake shall beare me some good will. But yet remember you, that there shall be no justice left in heaven, it for the faithfull love of a slave that doth adore you, you endure not the shamefull tyrannies of a faithlesse and impetuous Master, and in place of that eternity of divine honours, and everlasting faithfulnesse [Page 19] which I vow to you, you drown not your life in endlesse sorrowes, and soile not your name with as many infamous scandals (An unfortunate pre­sage, that yet did prove more true). Howsoever Minerva loved Arnolph deerely, yet could she not helpe it, but this extreme submission of Adraste did o'recome her. And though Adraste grieved to see Minerva loved another, yet could not he avoyd it, but this great freedome with which she trusted him in a secret concerned her so neerly must needs oblige him much; so as notwith­standing they seemed to renounce each others love, yet disavowed they not each others friend­ship. Adraste therefore in stead of becomming Mi­nerva's servant, became her friend, an exchange more necessary then favourable, but which de­pended meerly on her pleasure. Whilst Adraste and Arnolphe thus pretended to Minerva, there was yet a third competitor that bore away the prize they expected and laboured for: but he en­joyed it not o're-long, nor without much cost, for indeed he was Clericus in libro, as we say, and not in this craft a Master. Minerva for want of good prosecution, and not of right, was quite o'rethrowne in her suit. There was one of the common Councell of the City, an ancient man, and of the longest continuance in the Court of Parliament, one powerfull in meanes and autho­rity, and one that was not ignorant of all the quirks and quillets in the law, and in truth a most proper instrument to re-edifie and gaine againe a lost cause, Minerva needed such a man as this, [Page 20] and her fortune would in stead of seeking him out, she was her selfe sought out by him. Tatius, so was this Councellor called, was of an amo­rous complexion, and covered glowing fires be­neath the embers of a grey beard. He had no sooner seen Minerva, but he was taken with her, and she well managing the occasion, made him so wed her cause, as in place of counsell▪ he be­came Solicitor and party, and in a word gaind her the sute which she had absolutely lost, and got her to be sequestred both body and goods from her husband: and all this without Minerva's once troubling her self, which was the thing in­deed she required & best liked of. But this you may think could never be without much charge, the which Tatius very freely had disbursed, furnish­ing her with 5 or 600 crownes, that Minerva se­cured him out of her estate. For though Tatius were a gallant Gentleman, yet knew he well that it sufficed not to carry away this prize from so many others braver then himselfe, and he cleer­ly found that it behoved him render himself the more necessary, by so much as he was the lesse pleasing, and that he should begin to ingage her estate somewhat to him, the better afterwards to interest him in her selfe. The design was pro­found and subtile, and succeeded well in the ac­quisition, howsoever it fell out but ill to him in the possession. The first took notice hereof was Adraste, who incontinently told as much to Mi­nerva, letting her understand besides, she would become as meane a slave, as those are commonly [Page 21] sold in Barbary at market, if so she ever marryed this old Sire, that could not be so soon marryed, as jealous of her. And if it chance, said he, as I have told you otherwhiles, that for being too covetous of your favours to one, so capable of the knowledge of their worth, the heavens shall after as a just revenger, consent that you be libe­rall of them unto some ignorant, that no way shall finde cause to acknowledge them, or shall not be able to return their price; but on the con­trary, be satiate with your kindnesses, afflicted with his happinesse, and openly neglect even these your excellent beauties for some slight re­gard. And who shal then assist you to lamentyour cause after so fair a warning, as is this of your disgrace! Who will not think fit such a cruell one as bathes her self still in the bloud of such as love her best, and is not pleased but in the murther of their inconstant loves, at last should fall into the hands of such a sot, as should revenge by his con­temptuous outrages, the most injurious disdaines wherewith she hath crucified so many faithfull soules? And to remember you that I have said it is a misery fatall unto such as you; and by so much the more assured as it is little feared. Miner­va did but laugh at these his ominous predicti­ons, and told him; then she could with ease ren­der them all wholly false. Aruolphe wer't that he deemed it for the good of Minerva, or that he loved her rather for a Mistresse then a wife, free­ly advised her to marry Tatius: But she having drawn, and got from him what she would, now [Page 22] thought not but of the readiest meanes to discard and cast him off. Tatius was a Church-man, and upon that she told him, that her friends took it amisse, that one of his coate should so frequent her company: he sent to Rome, and having obtai­ned a dispensation for marriage, he sought her o­penly. Minerva excused her then upon the diffe­rence betwixt their conditions, qualities, and manner of life. Tatius being a gowne man, used to the City. She being born in the Country, and bred up amongst the Nobility. To every of her objections Tatius found an answer. I will sell my goods, the places and offices that stay me in the City, said he, and will alter my manner of living, to the end you change not yours. Minerva seeing her self so incompassed on all sides, had recourse to the lest remedy of Maids that would put off a suitor, they like not, which is to say, that they will never marry. Added further, that she would become a votary, and that the better to apt and fit her to the formes and customes of a religious and solitary life; she intreated, not onely him, but likewise all such as did her the honour of visitati­on, to abstain from those favours. Pay back the moneys that are owing me, said Tatius, then, since I must lose the fruit of all my services; when you shall owe me nothing, nor we have more to do with other, I am content since you will have it so, then not to see you any more; but till we are even, I pray forbeare to take from me the honour of seeing you. Though Minerva were descended of a right good family, yet could she [Page 23] not suddenly lay down the 6000 crowns she ought him, without selling away part of her e­state, nor could she finde the man would doe it for her: And Tatius proceeding in law, had got a decree for the whole summe: she was drawn dry by her suits, and her expences caused there­by at Paris; Moreover she being as yet in pupil­lage, her estate mannaged by over-seers, brought her not in the moyety of the true value. Arnolphe was a stranger, and without estate, as hath been said, and it he had abounded, yet had Minerva much rather have given to him, then to have ta­ken from him; and by misfortune he had got a wound on the arme, in the time of Tatius his hot­test pursuit, by one that he desired not to kill, though he dyed himself within three daies after of that hurt, leaving behinde him a most violent griefe and uncomfortable sorrow in the heart of Minerva. There was none left her then but Adra­ste, who had from farre foreseen this storme; though when he said so, he was not beleeved. Should she now have recourse to him, after so often making her selfe merry at his predictions, and demand counsell of him, having before so often slighted his advise? It must needs be, to whom indeed should one resort, but such of whom they have had so oftentimes sufficient proofe of their fidelity? she dispatched then a Gentleman to him being at Paris, and she in the Country, to lament her misfortune, accuse her incredulity, and demand his advise in a case of such importance. Adraste had much rather have [Page 24] given her help then counsell, but he could not; his father was yet living, and he managed but what he allowed him, which scarse sufficed for his own entertainment. Queen Margaret gave him indeed some times a quarterly pension, but it was casuall, and not certain, had it been sufficient, nor sufficient, had it been certain. He truely loved Minerva, and if she had given him time to pro­vice it, he had rather sold what ere he had in the world, then have failed her, but she asked his counsell in a thing that was already past and done: and though he knew not that it was con­cluded of, for all that he doubted much it was exceeding forward. For Minerva pressed by the importunities of Tatius, after all the shifts and doubles that the craft and subtilty of women could invent, yet was at last constrained to marry him, but in clandestine manner, and to the end to deceive and cast him off, as she had done the o­ther, getting a promise from him, that the mar­riage should not be consummate untill sixe mo­neths after, in which time she thought to take some order in her affaires, and finde meanes to pay him. But Adraste knew not of this, he wrote unto her then in these very words:

CHAP. III.

MInerva being disburthened of a charge, shee thought her self very unfit to beare, turned her whole Meditations to the meanes by which shee need never return un­der his charge; and to this effect having established some order in the managing the affairs of her house according to the necessity of her new Common-weal, shee took her way presently to Paris, whither shee was called not onely for the execution of her designe; but likewise for the ac­complishing of her desires: For her usuall resi­ding in this incomparable City, where shee had tasted so many delights, was become more deer, and farre more pleasing to her, then that of the Country, where shee had reaped no other then a bitter harvest. Tatius not lesse feeble in adversi­tie, [Page 34] then insolent in his better fortunes, under­stood not so soon that shee was there arrived, but hee sent unto her to intreat so much favour as to be admitted to seeher. It was too soon to descend so low, as to beg leave of his wife to see her; in stead of the possession which hee wont, and ought yet to have had of her; and a wife which but three dayes before he not suffered to see any man. Hee should have done like Alcibiades that bore away his wife by force, through the pub­like hall, and from amidst the assembly of all the people, where she had summoned him to appear. But he passed from one extreme to another, and fell from a most insupportable tyranny, into a dejected and most insufferable servitude. Miner­va admitted him to come seeher, and this weak man thinking to mollifie by prayers, her whom he had not had power to overcome by threats, and recover by humility, what he had lost by ar­rogāce, not onely made her al the offers due from a husband to a wife; but rather all the submissi­ons that a slave oweth his Master. Minerva for her part did render him all the honour of the world, but without the least being moved by his prayers, or any way slacking her pursuit; most humbly intreating him to pardon her, if shee sought the assurance of her life in that of here­state, of which shee had not so much as thought, had not hee himself inforced her to it. So were their estates parted, and by consequence their bodies; for Minerva said she had children enough for the fortunes she possessed, & not being able to [Page 35] maintain any more, she would by no means make any more: Poor Tatius, didst thou for this remove the earth, Eye heaven it self almost, to sequester this woman from her first husband, to the end to see her now again sequestred even from thee? Must thou make merchandise of thy whole for­tunes and thy honours both, of whatsoever thou didst possesse in all the World, to have a wife, which thou indeed hast not? Minerva having rid her of this thorn out of her foot, learned the news of Adraste, and having bin informed of his lodg­ing gave him presently to understand where hers was, and Adraste went thither to see her soon after; at their first greeting, they staid some while to view one another, both equally astonish­ed; Minerva with a little shame, and Adraste with some wonder. Well, Madam, said Adraste, (ha­ving saluted) you have found at last that I am no lesse veritable then unhappy, since my predicti­ons have not onely proved true: but unavoyda­ble likewise. Would I had never spoke them, since they have proved so inprofitable, and were received as ill presages, which for the most part but foregoe mishaps. Indeed Adraste, said Miner­va, I avow it, that you have shewn more judge­ment by foretelling my misfortunes, then I have in myaddresses to avoid them; but you are not ig­norant it is more easie to foresee, then to prevent such things by much. The cause why we some­times wisely undertake the things, that doe not alwaies well succeed; being cleere that it rests but in our powers to undertake, as wholy it be­longs [Page 36] longs to God to give the event. You onely said Adraste, have the art to make those things shew well that in themselves are nothing so; which here I come not to subvert, much lesse yet to complaine of you whose fortunes I lament more then my owne. So have you indeed more cause to plaine my miseries, then to complaine of my actions, answered Minerva, no one of them ere tending to your displeasure. But tell me now how rest I in your memory, and how may I hope to be therein reserved henceforward. Assure you Madame answered Adraste, you abide there bet­ter then ever, where I preserve you with much more ease, and farre lesle trouble then I was wont to doe: And as for what depends on time to come, you know we positively can say nought. And I have been so much deceived in the event of things are past, that I dare promise nought in future, else had I sworne to you ere this, that all the waters fleeting in oblivions streame, are not of force to wash you cleere from thence; but by the incertainty of things have happened late to me, I judge that it may be that I may beare you long in minde, and with more ardure and more passion too, then ever yet: and likewise it may chance, the helps of reason, time, and absence, may doe me the grace to have power to loose your memory. The greatest displeasure that a man can doe a woman whom he hath euer loved or honoured, is to let her see that he loves her no more: for it seems an outrage done to their beau­ties. Minerva for all she was much moved, yet [Page 37] smiled at this answere, for amongst other parts of dissimulation, or of prudence, she had that, never to manifest the least feeling of a grudge, but on the instant of her revenge. She said then to him, that she was very glad to see him cured of an affection which her honour forbade her to remedy, provided that the cure were perfect, and not rather a stupifying of the apprehension of it; for then said she, such as complaine the least, are they are most to be feared, for that their ill is by so much the greater, as their sence of it is the lesse: Moreover as the cure ought be entire, so should it be moderate, for that she had heard, that too perfect a health was oft the presage of a dan­gerous disease, and she feared a servitude by so much the greater as his liberty now seemed the more boundlesse; which she conceived altoge­ther incompatible with his humour, that she thought unable, not onely to undergoe the dis­ease, but more to suffer the remedy. Excuse me if you please, answered Adraste, I shall bear them both, so they come together, but I love not the one without the other; for that the remedy with­out the evill is to no purpose, and the evill with­out the remedy is insupportable. Well then, said Minerva, you assure me to be without the disease, and I promise you not to minister the remedy. We are then agreed, Madame, answered Adra­ste, I demand nothing of you, and you grant me my request: which saying, they fell both in laughter, and to discourse of such accidents as were befallen them since their last intervenue. [Page 38] Minerva related to him the indignities Tatius had done her, which caused her seek the assurance of her life, in that of her estate, with as much sor­row yet as any vertuous wife could have in the displeasure of her husband. I marvell not much said Adraste, at what is happened unto you after having been so often forewarned, before it be­fell you. I should haue wondred if it had beene otherwise. Since you merit it by your increduli­ty, though not in your actions. I cannot render you so small good will, but I wish you much better then him, though I grieve more for him, then I doe for you; since you have lost a man whose acquisition was your mishap, and he hath lost a wife whose possession was his whole for­tune. Comfort you so your friends said Miner­va: yet more harshly, said Adraste, when they dare to complaine to me of ils they suffer for their pleasure, and for not beleeving me. I am further then from daring to complaine to you of the death of Arnolph said she. For that answered Adraste, I shall compatiate with you in your mis­hap; Arnolph being dead by an accident wherein you had no hand. There is much difference in the misfortunes we suffer innocently, and those we undergoe by our own default. But if you be not receivable in demanding of my counsell or resolution, on the divorce of a husband, how think you to be in demanding it on the losse of a Rivall; had I not as much cause to rejoyce me for my own interest, as to afflict me for yours? And you Madame, that have said you will give me no [Page 39] help, how dare you demand of me my advice? I could doe no lesse, answered Minerva, then to promise my refusall of help, when you assure me not to have any need. Well Madame, replyed Adraste, but when I doe assure you of need, will you assure me of help? When, how when, said Minerva? It is impossible to come ny fire without being heat; Adraste conversing daily with Miner­va, whatsoever liberty hee had recovered by his absence, & her marriage, became reingaged in the inevitable charmes of her allurements, and stro­ken with the same amorous infection, wherwith she woundeth all the world. After long arguing in favour of his reason, he concluded yet accor­ding to the swinge of his passion, and judged it better for him to submit with all the world be­neath the Empire of this so excellent a beauty, then he to resist it onely. If he were troubled to resolve this, be sure he was more to confesse it. He was much ashamed that he had plaid the fool, and rendred himselfe so flexible. It seemed strange unto him, to have slighted one he had a­dored, and again to adore the woman he had slighted so: he cald to minde the first shipwracke he had undergone with her, and by that he ap­prehended the second, remembred him how ea­sily he had been ingaged in his affections, and with what pain he was retired. It seemed to him he did but breake in two these chaines were al­most now worn out, to carry new more strong, and that he freed himself but from an easie hold, to re-enter in a prison farre more mercilesse. [Page 40] That he should quit a Master that he had more cause to praise, then to complaine of, who a­mongst the ils he had wisht him, had not yet for­born to wish him well, and suffer underneath a mercifull resentment of his passions. But love, what can it not in a gentle heart? At last, hee confest to her that more then her ri­gour, and his absence, the many perfections which hee saw in her, opposed to the many de­faults he felt in himself, had inforced him to pra­ctise a remedy more ill then his disease, which having cost him much to finde would cost him more to lose. That her great beauties which wholly occupied his soule, being yet ravished from him, as all hope of their possession was most injuriously torn from him, twas no way to be deemed strange, if so despair had put to death desire, that could not livewithout it were in hope, That to save him from the tyranny of one Ma­ster onely, he had bin constrained to make him many; and not unprofitably to love one thank­lesse object ever hee had dispersed the stream of his passions, and divided his affections into as many places, as he found several sorts of objects. That erring like the Pilot that had lost his starre, and rendring him like to the trees on the high­wayes, that do bear fruit, but for the passers by, he was become infetterd in a chain so sweet in appearance and fair in effect, that he had willing­ly himself thrust in his armes, and did esteem him now more happy in the losse of his liberty, then he could be in conquering the whole earth. But [Page 41] that as all things have a certain revolution within the course of which, theyby a time return to their first heads, his destiny constrained him now re­turn into that honorable servitude, in which shee captivated the most beautious souls. Minerva not lesse wondring at the love of Adraste, then satis­fied with her own beauties, of which she had heer an illustrious proof in this second conquest of this lover, answered him in these terms. If any other then your self should talk to me thus, Adra­ste, either I should not believe him at all, or at least should fain not to believe him. But the knowledge I have of your goodnesse, makes me that as I esteeme you veritable, so will I answer you from my own heart, believing you speak to me from the bottom of yours. And to observe the same method you hold with me in confessing your thoughts, I shall discover mine to you, and acknowledge that if I were in such condition as I could give me to any one, it should be you. But I will not forbear to tell you many things that hin­der me therin, though you do know them neer as well as I; to the end that if you do not receive the satisfaction you have promised you, you may lay the fault on your own errours, and not upon my will, that never shall be wanting in good wi­shes to you, nor to perform like deeds on your behalf. Minerva discoursing afterwards the causes hindred her from loving of Adraste, missed not to put that of god, in the first place, whom wee ought to love and fear above all things; and you said shee that love and feare him above other [Page 42] men, would cause me render him my enemy for your love. This divine reason is of such force, as there is no humane passion can or convince it, or withstand the being overcome by it. But if you dis▪esteeme of god, which were so enor­mous an offence, wher of the monstrous impiety could never be sufficiently chastised, or what could perswade you to make mee believe that I could ever live, after being robbed of my honour in this World? And you that hazard oft so generously your life to save your honour, how dare you heere propose to mee the losse of mine? Is not the honour of us Ladies pray, all out as choice and delicate as that of men? And if you love me as you say, and as I do believe, why do you desire to lose mee so? can you love my person, and neglect my honour? Madam, answered Adraste, my discretion may be shield unto your honour, and this same innocent feare you have of doing ill by favouring me, is void of likelihood. God is not the enemy but the author of nature, and the offence without scandall is no offence. Believe you that the naturall affection, the author of nature imprinteth in our souls, is a­verse to the will of him that gives it us? and that the first thing he ever commanded, he should now forbid us? God wisheth us no il, but for the ils we do to our selvs, nor takes amisse the offeces done to him, but those we do to our selvs, for being maker of the universe, his care is most to perserve his workmanship, & his offence, at that, would hinder it, and not at that, which meerly tendeth to the conservation of it. Then, is he, the enemy of vio­lence, [Page 43] injustice, cruelty, and the ingratitude that tend to the subversion of love, and not of love it self, and he is angred that we turn his sweets to bitternesse, and doe convert to our dammage that which he hath given us for our benefits: For as love is the cause of our greatest goods, so may it become of our greatest ils; but then it must be by our own improvidence, and not by his. See then, who offends most the divinity, Madame, or I that follow the lawes of love, according to the end for which they first were made, or you that do endeavour what you may to change and to pervert his institutions; and chuse rather to ap­ply you to the counsell of a thanklesse and unna­turall rigour, then the true apprehension of a na­turall inclination, that is not only permitted, but commanded. It is true, that God hath comman­ded love said Minerva, but that which is legiti­mate; all other affections being forbid, not only by divine but humane lawes. In which I'le speake no more to him that teacheth others. A good cause defends it selfe; and one word is sufficient in a truth, whereas a lye needs the support of a large discourse. Both of them spake against their conscience, and contrary to their own beliefe; for this discourse of Adraste was quite averse to what he thought, and Minerva's answer was no lesse farre from her meaning. Adraste desiring to perswade a woman that would be perswaded, and whom he perceived to seeke some honest meanes that she might love him without blush­ing, endeavoured by this talk to take from her [Page 44] such shame as naturally retaines all women. In which nerethelesse he knew well that he did ill, but one so common amongst men whose reasons are overcome by appetite, as it seems custome not onely renders them permitted, but authori­sed. Minerva speaking truely according to her beliefe, stretched yet her thoughts unto such things as she might do, accompanying the cold­nesse of her words, with the quickning flames of her faire looks, drew by the gentlenesse of her fweet charms, him that she yet repulsed by the force of her strong reasons, to let him see the beauty of her minde, in the refusing him that of her body, so as in yeelding both one and the other to him, he should owe the favour ra­ther to her love then to her ignorance. And permitting him some small privacies which did not much forbid the greater, as they seemed to promise unto him, caused him hope that she would doe like the good wives, that often resu­ming what men aske of them, yet forbeare not to doe some part of their demands, but saying still they will doe nought. Whilest Adraste so eagerly solicited Minerva, Brassidas and Gracchus both, came athwart his designes. Brasidas was a little of kinne to Minerva, but not so much, but he could have wished to have been more neer. A man discreet, wise, subtile, and a boon compa­nion, chiefly amongst women. Gracchus was a little more earthy, and retained more of the Souldier, then of the Courtier, but nerethelesse both of them brave Gentlemen, and both Lovers [Page 45] of Minerva, who seeing Adraste first in time, and consequently in right, however such a conse­quence is not alwaies necessary in affairs of love, where the last commers are many times first re­ceived, agreed both together to ruine him. The occasion was offered them by the means of Aste­ria, one that Adraste saw some times, and Grac­chus likewise, however for divertisement onely, and each single without the other; notwithstan­ding which they often met there; Gracchus be­ing then one day with Asteria, she would needs know the newes of Minerva, and he knowing that she knew not her, but through the report of A­draste, asked her again what he said of her? Aste­ria either to give him cause of jealousie, or to make her selfe merry, said that Adraste did speake all the good i'th world of her, but in his particu­lar he thought no longer of her. And that others might now with his free good will visite her if they would, for he had taken his leave. Gracchus whether he beleeved her, or that he was well pleased to have such an advantage on Adraste, was so sottish, or malitious, as to report again to Mi­nerva, for a truth, what the other had spoken in jest. And the ill fortune was, that Adraste not see­ing her of 3 or 4 dayes, she was so weake to be­leeve it. The next day after Minerva having a­greed to goe take the ayre with Brassidas and Gracchus, in the Tuilleries, and having given them notice of the time she would passe over the new Bridge, she by chance met with Adraste alone neere his lodging, that it may well be, thought [Page 46] then of her, but not of the mischiefe she wished him, nor of the charitable office was provided for him, from so far as she could see him, she cal­led to him, & having caused him come into her coach, told him as they went, the cause she had, or she believed she had, to be offended at his words. Adraste judged presently from whence it came, but he would say nothing behinde the backe of those hee seemed the Authors of this imposture, which were as he beleeved, Brassidas and Grac­chus, and by so much the lesse he spake, by so much the more he seemed guilty, and to confesse it, so as Minerva extreamely offended at his words, took yet more offence at his silence by which he esteemed to confirm them. Brassidas and Gracchus failed not of the time, at the place appointed by Minerva, but were presently seene on horseback at the lower end of the street Dau­phine, neer the new Bridge. Minerva offered them roome in her Coach, and they went both into one of the boots, Adraste being with her in the o­ther. They were scarse set, before Gracchus tur­ning him towards Adraste; so Sir said he, you have taken your leave, and parted with this Lady, for all which me thinks you are here still: I stay Sir answered Adraste, to tell you, that is a tale, and nothing so. In saying which they being set back to back, one against the other, laid hand on their swords, Adraste on that of Gracchus, and Gracchus on Adrastes, which they drew neer halfe out. Mi­nerva (and her mother that sate at the end of the Coach) both shrieked out extreamely afrighted. [Page 47] Brassidas put himselfe between them, the Coach­man stayed, and both of them sate down againe without a blow striking, out of their respect to Minerva, who was yet irreconcileably offended at the-small regard they had had of her. She complained of wrong to the one and the other, and they both excused themselves to her, defer­ring their difference untill a fitter opportunity. But Brassidas could not forbeare to tell Adraste that he had done ill; Adraste hearing such words from him he esteemed, and who was indeed part­ly author of the quarrell, told him very hotly that he was none of his Iudge, and that he should doe well to stay the medling in his causes, till they were brought before him. Brassidas being before interessed in the businesse for love of Gracchus, was now become ingaged on his own behalfe. Note either of them had a sturdy La­quay, and each of them a sword, and that Adra­ste had but a little boy who bore none with him neither; so as if they would have took their ad­vantage, the match had been ill made. The Coach drove along strait to the Tuilleries, whilest Miner­va forethinking they would strive who should leade her at the going out of the Coach, and fea­ring some worse matter might yet arise in the bu­sinesse, very privately charged and conjured A­draste to take her mother, telling him that she had had promised this day to walke with them, and that shee met him but by chance. Adraste as­ked her, why if she had made them such a pro­mise, she called him along, and said that since he [Page 48] was first in time, if any one led her, it must be he. She then intreated him he would let her goe alone, and promised that none of the other should leade her. Adraste deeming it unfit to en­force her to suffer her selfe to be led against her will, agreed to that. And as she came out of the Coach, every of them tendring his hand, she be­seecht them leave her at liberty, saying she was old enough to walke without help of a leader. Notwithstanding, Adraste kept close on one side of her, and Brassidas and Gracchus on the other, without any one once offering to conduct Ar­lande, though she had more need of their help then Minerva, not out of incivility, or want of courtesie, but through excesse of pride, and cou­rage, fearing in leading the mother, they might seem to decline the daughter. They walked in this posture so farre as the grande alley of the Tuil­leries, and from thence as farre as the Echo. Adra­ste and Gracchus interchanging some braving looks, arose, observed one another, not speaking one word till they came to the end of the alley, when, the King entred at the other end; and Mi­nerva that had shooke all this while, took Adraste aside whom she had not spoken to since their comming into the Parke, more then to the rest. And just the same feare a poor woman might have, (said she) to see two men of her company fight, have I to this minute had, not, but I thought ve had both sufficient discretion to forbeare do­ing me such discourtesie, but that I mistrusted my self of sufficient merit to retain the violence of [Page 49] your first motions, till now the Kings comming frees me from the feare, and you from the means to change blowes; I conjure thee Adraste, by that great power which thou hast made me beleeve I have in thee, not to trouble the delights we ex­pect in this daies walke with thy company. You have been sufficiently troublesome already, though I think innocently, so as I could wish that true was told me of you, and that I had not had the honour to meet you at all this day; not but your company is deere to me, that being the cause I intreat you now indeed to reserve it for some other time; for now I cannot entertain you for feare of offending them, nor them for the same feare of offence to you. And this little time I spend with you, makes me doubt I have dista­sted them, since I know well you would be an­gry to seem talke so long to them. Adraste was no way agrieved at this discourse, for having cleered himselfe to Minerva, and driven his ene­mies to winde ward, hee was soon weary of the company, had lost what ever could be called pleasure in it, in the bitternesse of this dispute, he desired much to converse with Minerva, but he as much shunned all common entertainments, as he sought particular. The comming of the King took from him all cause of feare that he could be suspected to shun their worst of daring, being sure they would do nothing in his presence to a­ny man, much lesse to one they had not underta­ken when he was alone: he gave Minerva then this answer; since I came not here without being [Page 50] called, it shall besit me I conceive not to retire without your leave. Which since you haue so freely given me, I may well take, and in obedi­ence of your commands, goe hence, as by your summons I came hither. And more then the con­tentment of obeying you, I too shall beare along with me the satisfaction to have cleered your doubts: and to have let you see, in my as freely parting, as addresse, that you have not lesse power to abandon me, then to bring me to you. Yet I must here intreat you to acknowledge privately, the wrongs you have done me now in company, and in the evening, yet to honour me with that free entertainment of which I now deprive me willingly to obey. This day said Minerva, I can­not, but to morrow will dispose so of my affairs, as I will afford you two houres of the morning. Adraste kissing her hands, made a low reverence to her mother, and went his way, hasting after the King, without salute, or once looking on Bras­sidas or Gracchus. Having o'retaken the Court, he intreated the first friend he met, to take a turn with him, and leading him towards that side of the Parke where he had left Minerva, he told him; how he had been constrained to give some offenceto a couple of Gentlemen that had no just apprehension of it, or perhaps dissembled their grudge, in respect to the company, or it might be for that they scorned to be two to one. That he had intreated him to walke this way with him, to the end that the others seeing them together, might have occasion and [Page 51] meanes to make a partie of two to two. And is it for this you tooke mee from my atten­dance on the King, answered Oriste? so was hee called, yes, said Adraste. There are such fools in­deed in the world, replyed Oriste, amongst whom I did little think you had had a place. And what in the Devils name have you to doe with them, did you not tell me even now that you had given them offence? It is true said Adraste, and I love not to give offence, but presently I will give satis­faction. That is not amisse, indeed, if you will aske them pardon, answered Oriste, or make them some other submission to repair the wrong you have done them. But you have not offended them as yet but in words, and you would wrong them now in deeds? you have but hurt them, and you would, kill them right out? and call it satisfaction, and reparation of honour? It belongs to them to repair the injury you have done them, by do­ing you a greater wrong, words, by the lie, the lie by a box on the eare, and a box of the eare by bloud or death. But you have wronged them, and would give satisfaction by increasing the of­fence, and repair your fault by rendring it alto­gether irrepairable. As for me, it is a philosophy of the times I understand not. Stay till they come to us, and we will talk with them, but to goe seek them, is to run to meet a mans mishap, and for pleasure to throw ones selfe head-long downe a precipice. True said Adraste, but you know a common error makes a law, and wee are now a days governed more by the examples of fools, [Page 52] then by the reasons of the wise? In saying which they passed and repassed acrosse the wood, into the same walk, where Minerva was, between the hands of Brasidas and Gracchus, Adraste saluting Arlande, and Minerva, not so much as looking on the others, and they resaluting also without the others observing it. The next morn Adraste ex­pected a challenge very early, and having stayed till eight of the clock in his lodging hee came by that time shee rose to Minerva's, where hee was scarce entred, but one told Minerva; that Brasidas and Gracchus were at the door. Tell them I am not well, said Minerva, and that I desire them to hold me excused, that I cannot accept the honor they do me. Let it not be so, answered Adraste, for my boy attends me below, by whom they may know I am heer. What shall wee do then, said Minerva? I would you were all at severall ends of the World, farre enough from hence, & where my head might scape breaking in your quarrels. Madame, answered Adraste, yee ought yet distinguish between the innocent, and the faulty; It was not I caused the jarre, you know best what is now to be done, you prayed mee yesterday to retire for the love of them, you may to day pray them to retire for the love of me. And if you should wish them never come a­gain, after the knowledge you now have of their malice, it were but justly done. Sir, said Arlande, Brassidas is my kinsman, I, nor my daughter can well forbid him the house, nor those he bringeth a long with him. But go tell them said she to one [Page 53] of her servants, that my daughter is at masse, and that I am busie heere with Adraste. Arlande said this, well knowing they looked not for her, and that the ready way to return them, was to say her daughter was not within. There was three or four Churches thereabouts, to all which they went, and Minerva thinking with her self they would not fail to go thither, and not finding her, they would come back to her house, was much dis­quieted; for that shee would not refuse them en­try, or deny her selfe to them twice together in one day, and to turn off Adraste, it was out of all likelihood. When she was once ready, he would have waited her to the Church, but she excused herself, and stole privatly from him to go thi­ther alone, leaving him with Arlande, who told Adraste what a shame it would be to her daugh­ter, if her cosen should finde him with her in the street, in stead of being at Church, and the mis­fortune might follow, if Graccus choller or his ho­nour, should so o're-rule him, as now in her com­pany to take satisfaction of the injury done him, which the day before he had for the love of her dissembled. Adraste did not trouble himself to answer her, but taking his leave, followed Miner­va from Church to Church, and while he sought her in one▪ Brassidas and Gracchus found her in the other; and she found no lesse pain to dismisse them, then she had had to rid her of Adraste, for they importuned her no lesse to wait her backe from Church, then he had to bring her thither. [Page 54] But at last she escaped them, and returned as she went, after having drawn a promise from Grac­chus, that he should not call Adraste to account for any thing that had past the day before. In the meane time Adraste returned very discontented at Minerva, it seemed to him that she having pro­mised him an entertainment to day, should not have left him as she had, to finde out his enemies; and that she was not stoln away so much for any devotion she had to Church, as for the desire she had to see them there. But next day he was much more troubled, thinking to goe make his com­plaint, when they told him she was gone out to walk with them. Then presently conceived he the plot was not combined against him, but with her counsell and assent, and that she had not one­ly approved, but designed it. And so returning backe, his brest fraught with more despight then love, and not so much reason as rage, after having resolved now to breake with her once for all, he wrote to her,

THat as hee had pitied her weaknesse, seeing shee suffered her selfe to be rather perswaded by passion▪ on the part of his Enemies then by the truth of his words; so hee received no small con­tentment, to see that for his having cheered himself before them, and for ever being too d screet and re­spectfull on her behalf, and at her instance on theirs, he was now deprived of what they possessed for having been the contrary. That the time had been when this privation now so easie to undergo, had been most dif­ficult [Page 55] for him to believe; but considering that of all things that most provoked him, and the chiefest cause of his vexation and worst tormenting passions, it was easie for him to endure the losse of a good, the possessi­on wherof was so extremly damageable. Wherfore he would now as with a sponge wipe off the fair impressi­ons which he had formerly admitted in his memory, and hee intreated her to favour him so farre, as not to oblige him ever by the replacing them. Hee avow'd it the mediate will of Heaven, without which hee had beene as unable 'to execute, as rash in undertaking this designe. For which hee only was to thank her ingratitude, that thinking to work him so much ill, had been the cause of so great good to him. And that he did beseech her by this last, and by all o­ther, and so many vowes, no lesse religious, then un­profitable, which hee most foolishly had rendred her, that henceforth shee would never more call them to minde; assuring her he should esteem him fully satis­fied for all his services, when he should finde they were forgot, and that she held them so indifferent, that hee had never cause to joy in or complain of them.

CHAP. IIII.

WHat delight soever the company afforded, could not be so pleasant to Minerva, as this Letter was bit­ter to her. But howsoever she took it extreamly ill from Adraste, she would not yet loose him so. No though she knew not to what purpose to reserve him, for she had sufficiently manifested the little good will she bore him. But there are some women that delight themselves to render all men amorous of them, and they affecting none. Or it may be she held this maxime of the wise, that say a man should not breake with friends, no not for any cause whatsoever, for that such as are unfit for one thing, may yet serve to another, and it may be she intended to accommodate her selfe by Adra­ste to some other purpose. Whatsoever it were, she forbore to answer his Letter till her choler was past over, nor wrote she to him then; but [Page 57] passing some daies after by his lodging, she cau­sed him to be told, that there was a Gentlewo­man in the street asked for him. Adraste came down, and Minerva made him come into her Coach, where she was then accompanied onely with one gentlewoman, and going to take the aire. She told him that she had not answered his Letters, for that shee could not bethink her of termes sufficiently powerfull to make him sence­able of her anger. So then Madame, answered Adraste, if you have not given me offence, I stand not obliged to you for it, but your ill memory, that had not means to find words sufficiently ca­pable, to expresse the offence you intended mee; Tis true said shee, but you are a naughty man to write such Letters to mee. And you are then a naughty woman, answered Adraste, to inforce mee to it by so many just and rightfull causes as you have. If I have given you such, replyed she, and have so little reason in my actions, why have you so little judgment in your love; you have lesse reason then mee to love one that hath none at all, and by the extravagance of your unfound minde, accuse me of your own defaults. Madam, answered Adraste, I have caused you to see most cleerly that you are in the wrong, since you can­not finde meanes to answer my Letters; But how should you finde reasons, that could not in­deed finde the offence. Wherby it follows that being you have done the wrong, you cannot have reason on your side, since wrong and reason cannot be united in one subject. And yet cry you [Page 58] that I am reasonlesse, to love one that hath none. I answer you that though I am reasonlesse, it fol­lowes not but you are so likewise, as I have pro­ved, without denying but I was my self so; And on the contrary, I have always endevoured to let you see that I had litle reason in me, ever to shew that I had so much love for you. Since if I had, I could not have loved you, or at least but in such sort as I had been loved again of you. And if you were reasonable, you would love mee as I love you. See then wherfore I love you in two sorts, (without reason) first, for that you are reasonlesse, secondly, because I am so also. As to the extra­vagances of my diseased minde, I apprehend them to my own advantage. Remember you what I have ever said, that my weaknesses, and failings were the things that I desired to cause you see. Tis well I am there arrived. Minerva fell a laughing at these words, and as particular complaints do usually succeed the generall; A­draste complain'd of her, for that when hee had left his entertainment to his enemies, upon her promise to afford him one more private, and fa­vourable, she had not onely turned him off to her mother Arlande, but her self had stoln away from him to go to them, had depriv'd him of the ho­nour of her company, and conduct, to afford it unto them, and had wronged a man whose good­nesse was so known to her, therby to favour o­thers whose malice was to her no lesse manifest. Minerva excused her on the just fear shee might have of the bloudy effects their quarrell might [Page 59] have produced; said that the same fear had cau­sed her not to suffer him to lead her; and that she had also denied it unto them: And on the contra­ry having found Brasidas & Gracchus at Church, shee had prayed them, not onely to forbeare to lead her, but to see her. Notwithstanding that Brasidas being since come to see Arlande as his Kinswoman, and Gracchus accompanying him as his friend, she could not hinder the Visitations, nor the Walks Arlande admitted of, it being very uncomly for the daughter, to play the Mi­stris before her mother; not thinking also that it would have becomm'd a woman of her quality, to testifie the least animosity against them, at all to shew she affected him. In the end she knew so well to plead her cause, as she gained her suite; Adraste asked pardon, and the wronged party made the amends. This day consumed in com­plaints, and such like satisfactions, took yet a­way all hate that the last falling out seemed to have ingendred in their hearts, how ever it placed not there the wōted love (not in that of Minerva's for that she yet mourned for the dead, on whose behalf she seemed even to despise her life. Nor in that of Adraste, for that seeking in these disgraces to save him from the ambushes of Minerva, hee was already faln in those of Cariclea, which hee would have dissembled, but Minerva intrea­ting him to helpe her loose the remembrance of a man whom shee had loved, hee againe beg­ged of her advise how to acquire the affection of a woman that he adored. You have already so [Page 60] acquired her, answered Minerva, thinking he had spake of her self, as you need not care further but of means to preserve her. Would to God that he you love were alive said Adraste, and that I were in possession of her I desire, I believe I should have lesse trouble to preserve then I shall have to acquire her. How can that be, said Minerva, that you should be in possession of her you desire, du­ring the life of him I lament, if you desire not some other then me? And how think you also that it can be believed, answered Adraste, that I have acquired the affections of one, that lives not but in the death of an other? I have the wrong indeed on my side said Minerva, and you the rea­son on yours. Adraste, to engage your thoughts upon such an object, as hath not ingaged theirs; But since I discover thus my malady to you, if so you cannot give me help, as there is none in death, I pray at least refuse me not your comfort, and be it so that in losing you for a Lover, I may enjoy you as a friend. Madam, answered Adraste, it hath bin the greatest unhappinesse that hath done me outrage, to see how unapt you have bin to think the one or the other of me: But I shall never cease to be both, to you, so long as God shall give me life, and you no cause to die by the ill use you daily do me. The night book of their discourse, which else they had not known how to leave. Minerva having prepared to retire to her house in the Country, and apprehending in the solitude that place offered, the sorrows that Ar­nolphes death did now make her so lively feel in [Page 61] the divertisements of this so excellent City, a­gain conjured Adraste, that did sometimes apply him to such things, to write somewhat in way of consolation, and in verse, on the death of Arnol­phe, an importune request to pray a Lover, to bu­sie himself in the commendations of a Rival; and the more for that Adraste medled but unwillingly in making Verses, seeing so many as he did, come off with little credit in that subject. But Arnolphe was dead, and hee hoped in pray sing him, hee should at least flatteringly sooth his Mistris, and insensibly insinuate in her favours, yet the more; unwilling to give the repulse to a Lady, to whom he had given himself, without whom he could not rest, and with whom he could not live, he en­devoured to render him pleasing and agreeable so far as to celebrate for her the affections of him that living had orethrown his own. So after ha­ving brought Minerva home to her house, and being retired to his own lodging, hee made the same Evening the following Stanzaes, as you see, which the next morning he sent to her at her up­rising, to let her see with how much care and rea­dinesse hee did imbrace all manner of occasion, did at all pertain unto her service. The Verses were these.

CHAP. V.

THe King having appeased this dis­order on this side Loire, turned head towards another, which a­rose about Garonne, after having made some small stay about the Clain. And having setled peace in Guien, pro­ceed as farre a s Bearne, where he put in execution the decree he had made four yeers before against the Hugonauts, in favour of the Ecclesiastiques, and then returned in all glory to his chief City. But that belongs to the History of France, and not at all to ours. Nor have we spoke of it but to avoid a more tedious discourse which must have beene made to continue the adventures of A­draste, whose particular return comprehending [Page 79] in the generall, we have not now to say, but that having still followed the Court, hee came there­with to Paris, where from the morrow of his ar­rivall he was taken with a quoridian Fever which brought him so low, as it was not hoped he could ever get up again. He had the help of an excellent Physician in his art, a worthy man, his intimate and perfect friend, to whose care and goodnesse, next under God, hee stands obliged for his life. Amongst his visitants Minerva was one, that came to see him, not onely contrary to his expe­ctation, but his hope also, for the continuance of his absence, the travail of the journey, and most of all the violence of his sicknesse, had so efaced all impressions of his love, as there remayned not so much as any line or draught therof in his me­mory. He was not in the height of his disease, but in the greatest weaknes of his person, so as when his Fever somewhat ceased on the one side, it seems that this visit prepared for him a new cause to re-alight his affection on the other. But yet be­ing visited more by Chariclea, then by Minerva, the assaults and batteries of the one, ruined and oreturned even to the ground whatsoever the o­ther erected. Reason and Civility willed that hee being well should see such as had visited him sick. Of which he acquit him very religiously to all, but Minerva whom he saw not, in doubt that freeing him of one malady, he might fall into an other, by so much the more to be feared, as those of the minde are generally more dangerous than they of the body. Contempt is the greatest vexa­tion [Page 80] to a high minde, especially when it comes from such of whom they have made esteeme▪ or from whom they have been accustomed to re­ceive honour and respect. Minerva having been so perfectly honoured of Adraste, could not in­dure without despight, that he that had not liv'd but in her, and for her, and of the life, and health of whom, she had testified so great a care, should visit all such as had seen him but her self. And her indignation was by so much the greater, for that she knew he faild not in this duty for want of ci­vility, nor of knowledge. He offends not, said she, of ignorance, but contempt, and believed that it was of purpose. In the end Adraste must needs go see her, for shee had sent so often to his lodg­ing as it had bin discourtesie, and ingratitude to have done otherwise. She congratulated his re­covery, she civilly complained of his incivility, and pray'd him not onely to see her, but also to write unto her. Adraste well saw that these were so many snares set by Minerva for his liberty; but hee had scarce power to refuse a thing which he had first demanded of her, had he not bin pre­vented. And as love is an Enemy not to be van­quished, but by the absence of the thing beloved, very hardly could hee avoid being overcome by such approaches as these were. Two strong con­ceits wrought in his thoughts, like two contrary winds at Sea, with a perishing vessell; the most violent which was yet most pleasing, counselled, and almost constrained him against his will to love this woman, the other more gentle, and yet [Page 81] more troublesome, did utterly forbid it. And as his imaginations figured to him the matchlesse delights he might gather from the passion of such beauties; his memory again presented to him the most affrightfull torments he was sure to suf­fer but pretending therunto; and the divers ship­wracks he had undergone in the same Port, did counsell him in any wise, not now to re-imbarke him there. But the means likewise for him to a­void it, (he that lov'd not his own eys without it were for seeing her, in whom he had already har­boured the chiefe felicities of his life) was away. In this conflict of difficulties hee addressed him unto her self, as sole and sovereigne Arbiter of his thoughts, beg'd of her to restore them back the rest she had bereft them off, and to render to her self the same contentment, which her cruel­ty had ravished from him, in outraging the con­stance of a Lover, and betraying her own proper desires, through the ingratefull misacknowledge­ment, wherby she did receive his pure affections. As Minerva had bin provoked and agreed at the indifference of Adraste, she was now well pleased to see him stirred again with love of her. But be­ing a discreetand subtile woman chiefly in the art of faining, in which she out-went the most exqui­site of her sex, shee so farre as possibly she could hid him from her intents, that were to re-en­snare him. And as the ordinary custome of wo­men is to oppose their honour to such as speak to them of love, Minerva forgot to hold up this buckler against such armes as Adraste could ad­vance, [Page 82] talking to him, yet nerethelesse in such a manner of the sence shee had of the one, as shee put him not in despair of such as he had of the o­ther. But they so long had known, and were so well acquainted with one another, that they could not possibly so well dissemble it, but that they espied each other behinde the best curtain could be drawn. Minerva proposed extreme dif­ficulties in the love of Adraste, and Adraste as ma­ny resolutions upon those difficulties of Mi­nerva: shee alleaged first her marriage, which absolutely hindred her to be any way lawfully sought. Adraste put her in minde of Arnolphe, whom shee had lov'd before, and since, and whom yet shee lov'd after in death, however shee was straightly obliged to love him, that lived, and was in affection before the other. By which hee let her see that the marriage she alleaged, was but a pretext, by which she co­vered her ingratitude, being assured that if it had been the true cause that hindred her from loving him, it had bin so as well for another as him. I lov'd Arnolphe before I married, said shee, and that love which indeed I bore unto his vertues, nor that which as yet I bear his memory, did ever wrong my honour, where yours tendeth meerly to the subversion of it. Your honor is easily pro­tected in my discertation, answered Adraste, and though mine be one thousand times more deer to me then my life, I should chuse rather a thousand times to lose it, then ever so little to have tainted yours. But you are too wise a woman, to be ig­norent [Page 83] that honour chiefly doth insist upon the ma­naging, and is not incompatible with love. You are too wise a man likewise, answered Minerva, to think what you say; But if so be I should grant you any thing so unfit to be granted, what reason have I yet to quite me of Arnolphes affection, to reinvest me in those of Adraste? it were but to passe from one extream to another, and not one­ly from a love permitted, to a love forbidden, but from constancie, to inconstancie, and light­nesse; since you are no lesse fickle then hee was ever constant: and howsoever hee be dead, the vertues that I loved in him are immortall, and in such measure living in me, as I have no memery of life without it be to think of, and to live in him. One part of this discourse was true, but the other artificially fained by Minerva, to ingage Adraste the more, and to let him see how much shee did deserve to be belov'd, in shewing him how capable she was of love, and how much she could cherish the affections of a living man, since she so long retained those of a dead one. I dis­course according as I think, said Adraste, but you talke not as you thinke: nor content to expresse your want of reason in your words, by accusing me of lightnesse, it seems that you will make it appear that you have lesse in your actions, by the unprofitable affection you beare to the ashes of Arnolphe. The cause you have to divest you of which, and put on mine, being reason it self, that should ever counsell you to preferre things pro­fitable to those are hurtfull, the recreative to the [Page 84] afflictive, and the reall to the imaginary. There are three things in the world which produce and do contain all the rest, which be honour, profit, and pleasure, and from his affections you cannot so much as hope of one of them, but on the con­trary you must expect trouble, damage, and shame; wheras you may finde them all in the af­fections of Adraste, with so much precedence, that if the other were yet living, hee must himselfe be constrained to avow the preeminence, and you to acknowledge the desert, if love were to be judged by the endevours, and by reason. Minerva without approbation, or reproving the reasons of Adraste, proposed still new difficulties, and some­times declyning her own interest, imitated such Decoyes, as to gain an other mans mony, do wil­lingly lose some of their own. Why if it should be so, said shee, an affection cannot be so easily shifted as wee do our smocks, heal mee first of my passion, and then will I cure you of yours. It is most certain, Madam, said Adraste, and I have approved it but too true in that I undergo for you; But where are now those so sufficient rea­sons by the which you have ere-whiles endevou­red to perswade me that I might easily discharge me of mine? Why serve you not your selfe a­gainst your self, with the armes that you so well do handle against others? Why think you it im­possible to free you from the passions which you have for a shadow, having to fore believed that it was easie unto me to acquit mee of those I have for you? If the subject of my love be more ex­cellent [Page 85] then yours, and that I be more easie & ca­pable of love then you, as sure it is too true; does it not follow then that your passion is lesse then mine, and that you may more easily discharge you of it then I? But how will you that I should heal you of a passion which you have for ano­ther, if you refuse to receive from me the remedy you did desire of him? I have given my self a little liberty in enlarging of the extent of this discourse, that it belongs to the History, and is necessary to the end that I pretend to ther­in. If it be a little too long, Lovers will not be much displeased therwith; And others may passe it by, or more seriously fix on some other object. So it is that Adraste again setting on foot this dis­course on the last speech of Minerva, imployed all his five sences to cure her of a disease which indeed shee had not, or least wherwith hee was more infected, then shee, in which it hapned to him just as it did to Clement Marot, who seeing his Mistris bleed, and the Chyrurgion telling him that with the ill bloud hee would likewise draw from her the ill humor that rendred her so cruell to him, and that the new bloud that should in­crease in her veins, should mollifie her spirit and render her more capable of the impressions of love, added afterwards, that it was true, and that she did become more gentle, and susceptible of love, but the thing was, he concluded that it was not of his love. So Adraste hath purged Minerva of this fancie, in hope that by efacing from her heart the portract of Arnolphe; he might the easi­lier [Page 86] set there his owne; renderd her truely amo­rous, but his ill hap would yet, twas not of him, as then. I say then, for that hee hath since found that it was his good fortune; And that he might well say as once a great Captaine did, that he had been lost, if so he had not then been lost.

Adraste having once againe seene Minerva, continued his visits so thicke, as it seemed he ra­ther dwelt with her, then went to see her. In the morning hee used there from nine a clocke till noone. After dinner he stayed till supper, and after supper untill midnight. And howsoever his company was so frequent, yet hindred shee not the diligence of his Letters, that followed and forewent him twice a day, as doth the light both usher, and attend the Sun: So as, either by Let­ter or by presence, Minerva could not ope her eyes but she saw Adraste ever before her. From whence proceeded the jealousie of Crassus, who as we have sayd, was againe restored to her ami­ty, if not love. The first note whereof that A­draste received, was from her selfe, that had di­vers designes therein. First she desired to know what he thought of it, and knowing well that A­draste was ignorant that she was beloved of Cras­sus, in discovering the love hee had for her, it shewed shee had none for him: And in manife­sting his jealousie, she would render Adraste jea­lous of Crassus, as she had rendred Crassus jealous of Adraste. For she as it were swimming her selfe in pleasure at the vexation of another, even to the torment of her owne soule, and suffering the [Page 87] most extreame Martyrcomes, but to procure small ones, it seemed that her repose was in the midst of paines, and sufferance, and the calme of her spirit consisted in the impetuous shocks, and violences, wherewith she agitated others. Shee did affect a rough and high going sea in love, and did esteeme an affection soft and gentle, withe­red, and fading, if so it were not intermingled with the sharpnesse of some jealousie. Moreover in shewing the jealousie of Crassus, because of A­draste, she manifested to Adraste the affection she had for him, for from the jealousie of the one ap­parantly followed the affection she had for the o­ther, it being certaine that Crassus could not bee jealous of Minerva for Adraste, if hee beleeved not that Adraste was beloved of her. To which she added this Art, to faine that she did so much hate and had in horrour that passion, that if Cras­sus had been otherwise pleasing unto her, and that his demerits or his services had obliged her to wish him well, yet was his jealousie such as might ruine and well overthrow what ever good will she could have for him, and confirme all such affections as he pretended to subvert in her. But Adraste being no wait moved with the jea­lousie of Crassus, onely intreated Minerva shre would preserve him her affection, which onely he desired to keepe, and feared to loose. That but it, all other things were very indifferent to him, and the passions of his enemies so little re­garded, as he beheld them rather with pleasure, then offence. Minerva was much deceived in [Page 88] this answer, for she thought to quicken his affe­ction by the jealousie of another, beleeving like them that esteeme of nothing well that is not deare; that amorous delights cannot be pleasant, if not sharpe. But dissembling, as full well shee knew, and was accustomed to do, she by so much the more approved of this humor of Adraste, as he cared little for the jealousie of his Rivall, and made shew to love him the better for it; In the meane while bethinking her of other meanes to heighten his affection, insomuch as this had fay­led. We have sayd that Adraste visited her at many houres of the day, but chiefly after Sup­pers, which she had forbidden all others, of pur­pose to affoord it him onely; and which hee so dearely valued, as hee never fayled to let flip one without going thither. They were lodged in the Suburbs of St. Germans, but a good way one from the other; For Minerva lodg'd neere the Market, and Adraste by the River side. One Evening as hee went to see her according to his custome, he tooke along with him a yong gentle­man named Polinice, and a Laquay which she had sent then unto him to borrow a book; they were no sooner out of Adrastes lodging, to take the way that leadeth along the ditch from porte de Nifle, to that of Bussy, but they heard some walk after them, and turning about, they saw a man muffled up in his cloak that made great haste, ha­ving his sword under his arme, and who having overtaken them, followed the same way they held upon the Causey, which is along by the [Page 89] houses. At the same time they perceived there were others yet, that kept them behind the piles of durt, which the passage of Coaches & Carts causeth commonly in winter along by the ditch. And presently Adraste perceived that he that had overtaken them, slacked his pace, and reeld as he walked, as if he had been drunke. This man said he to Polinice, counterfeiteth the drunkard, and h'is not so, for we saw him walke otherwise then thus, and very upright and lustily, and be­leeve me not another time, if it be not to put some trick upon us. Be it what will, answered Polinice, I thinke he will gaine little by us. In which say­ing they walked on still. Adraste bid the Laquay to goe forward some five or sixe paces with the light before, and not to be surprized, drew his sword from out of his hangers, and bore it up­right in his hand, and Polinice did the same by his likewise. They walked thus some thirty paces, and overtaking this Roister, that staied to the same purpose. When he was amongst them, and hee perceived the others which were not farre off, hee began to call aloud, Who be those that laugh there? no man answered a word. But Adraste houlding this for suspect, and beleeving it was the word given amongst them, as the event pro­ved, bade his footman go on, and Polinice follow, keeping himselfe two or three paces before him Mounsieur, quoth then this gallant to Polinice, in siding him, and counterfeiting the stranger, can you shew me the way to St. Germans gate. No Mounsieur answered Polinice, scoffing him, I am [Page 90] not off this Country, more then your selfe are, nor do I know the streets of the City. I am glad of that answered the other, whats that he would have sayd Adraste, who extreamly mistrusted these devices. St. Germans gate replied Polinice, St. Germans gate Sir, quoth the Impostor. Looke you where tis said Adraste, you are at it, or at least in a faire way to it. I thanke you Sir replyed the Rogue; who not two steps after, seized on Poli­nices sword, saying, what will you draw your sword? So soone as Adraste heard talk of swords, he drew his; but howsoever it were as sodainely as he could speake, he had not so soone drawn it, but it was layd hold on, and their light put out at the very instant; which saved his life, for those that layd hands on him, casting themselves alto­gether, and at once upon him, one wounded the other in seeking to kill him. So as of many thrusts made in the crowd, and in the confusion of this darknesse, there was but one touched him, and that upon the arme. All the others lighting on the parties themselves, on whose behalfes they were made. But feeling his sword engaged, and seeing himselfe in the midst of so many enemies, as the greatnesse of their number hindred them­selves, he heard some cry out kill, kill, and at the same time others, Oh you kill me; which put him in such a fury as having recovered his sword in two or three shocks, hee made himselfe such place, as the field, and fought battell rested on his side. As for Polinice, Adraste thought him dead, for that he had heard him call out Murther, [Page 91] Murther, and having seen him fall to the ground; he beleeved certainly they had killed him. But these theeving Rogues having taken their flight, and the Neighbours being come in at the noise, with their weapons, & lights, he foūd that he had disingaged his sword, and quit himselfe of them with the losse of his cloake, and some light hurts he had received, wherewith he was become lesse bloudy, then miry. Quite contrary to Adraste, who found himselfe more fowled with bloud then dirt, though it were with that of his ene­mies; For the thrust he received on the arme was so favorable, as it passed not the skin further then the flesh. He lost not his cloake, but his Hat fal­ling off, and his Galloshooes, both one and the other were presently found in the Street, with the sheathes of their swords. And howsoever that after the distemper of such an incounter, he had more cause to retire to his lodging, then fol­low his designe; so is it, that apprehending more the affright Minerva might take at this newes, then the dammage might come to him in the vi­sit, hee beleeved it was a small cause to deprive him of a good, which he beleeved could not bee too dearely bought, not with the greatest mis­chiefe of the world: And this hindrance not ha­ving served but more to re-inflame the desire hee had to see his Mistresse, he tooke onely another Laquay with another Torch at his lodging, and in the same case hee was in, hee came presently with Polinice to that of Minerva; hee found her and the Laquay yet shaking at the affright they [Page 92] had tane, and he recounting to her the death of Adraste, and Polinice: For having seen them laid hands on, and invironed by so many, he bleeved not that they could escape, and for him, it was easie to flee, for that they had nothing to do, but with his light, which being at first put out, they gave him very good leisure to retire. So soon as Minerva saw Adraste, she seemed to rejoyce ex­treamly, And I assuredly beleeve it was no way fained, whatsoever hath beene sayd, that this ambush was layd, and Minerva had not sent for the booke by her Laquay, so much for that, as to bring him in compasse of the snares of these Ras­cals; which could never enter in the thought or beliefe of Adraste. You have prevented me of an ill nights rest, sayd she, which this companion went about to prepare for mee: I beleeve you could not have bestowed a visit on me this good while, or so pleasing, or necessary as this was; But tell mee, how happened this misfortune to you? Madam, answered Adraste, your Laquay is not so blame worthy as you may thinke, for he saw me in such case, as there was more liklihood that he left me dead, then alive: But it pleaseth God that I live yet for your service, and to be­stow on you more necessary visits, and more pleasing nights then this. And then he recounted at large to her what had befallen him since Sup­per, whilst the uncloaked gentleman Polinice en­tertained her women with the same discourse. Very well sayd Minerva, then I bid you good night, and desire you come no more at such [Page 93] houres to see mee. That is to take good nights from me, answered Adraste, and not to give mee good night, this same command not to see you any more by night. It shall be what you please, replied Minerva, for I shall indeed rather chuse to take from you good nights, then suffer upon my occasion that you perchance have your life taken from you, as you have now very narrowly escaped with it. Adraste accepting her will for reason, retir'd with his good, or ill night, after having tould her, that God did reserve him to some better end; and that on no occasion his life could be so well imployed, as in the losse of it, for so worthy a Subject.

Adraste being retired without any further mis­chance, passed the night as accustomed in the thought and contemplation of an enchanted Lo­ver, by the charmes of a fair Mistris. The next morning rising very early, he went to take a turn at the Louvre, where he was informed of the de­parture of the King. It was at the time of the great assembly at Rochell, which being made a­gainst his Majesties permission, and continued contrary to his cōmand, gave cause to the Court of Parliament to declare them that held it rebels, and to the King to arme himself, for the defence of his authority. Adraste went from thence to the uprising of Minerva, carried her these sad news, not so much lamenting the publique mis­fortune that threatned the State with a civill war, as his own particular condition, that forced him leave his Mistris, to use his life in a quarrell [Page 94] wherin he had so little interest. For howsoever he were not constrained by any place, or benevo­lence of the Kings, he was nerethelesse born and enforced therto, by the laws of his own worth and honour? But since that nothing induceth you said Minerva, to follow the King but your honour, you are not obliged to follow him other where then in service. Let other men then go a­long and wait on him, whose offices and pensions doe oblige them to attendance every where be­sides, and do you stay untill he does sit down be­fore some place, or that hee hath made some o­verture of war wherin you may be seen to do the service you desire: and think not then that I will make it difficult to give you leave, for that your life being of smaller esteem to me by much then is your honour, I shall rather chuse to command then to forbid it you. Adraste was easily perswa­ded to stay with a Lady, whom indeed hee could not indure to part from, but seeing he had not li­berty to entertain her as hee wished in her house, where she was watched by her own people, gai­ned and corrupted by Crassus, & the prime of the Spring, inviting every one to see the beauty of the Country, hee intreated her to bear him com­pany to Ruel, to the end that no other but the Nymphs of those fountains should be by at the last farwels hee would take of her. Minerva that desired but to passe time away, rendred Adraste his desires in that, by contenting likewise her own. But what she might easily and absolutely of herself have done, was accompained with so [Page 95] many limitations and circumstances, as the plea­sure of it was ever lesse then the sufferance, were it that by the difficulty she would render her fa­vours, the more estimable; or were it a quality inseparable in love, that often promiseth much sweetnesse, where naught is reaped but much bit­ternesse. Reason, and what was decent not suffe­ring that she should go alone with Adraste, caused her to take with her an old Gentlewoman that was rather her Governesse then Servant, with two little children that she had had by Tatius, and would yet have Plancus and Melite, besides of the company. Melite was one of her friends, and Plancus a new Captive of Minerva's whom shee had insnared without Adraste once perceiving it: whom she made believe, how shee could tender him amorous of Melite. Adraste agreed very wil­lingly to that, thinking that whilst Plancus enter­tained Melite, and that the Governesse should be busied with Minerva's children, he should have no ill opportunity to govern her. But the diffi­culty was to get from her house, and people un­suspected, for she would not by any means that they should know of this journy, for fear it might come to Crassus eare. And this Lady otherwise exceeding able; had already given him such Empire over her, as not so much as ever remem­bring Tatius that was her husband, she let her self be troubled with the jealousie of a man, that she said was nothing to her, and that she seemed not onely to be unable to love, but also one of whom shee could not endure to be beloved. It is most [Page 96] certain that such as be in love are blinde, for if Adraste absolutely had not bin so, he might by this have seen that Crassus had more interest in his Mistris, then himself. But he believed more in her words, then in his own eyes. To the end then that Minerva's people should take no notice of the designe, she willed that Adraste should wait very early in the morning at Church with a coach and four horses, that Plancus and Melite should come thither another way without either of them comming neer her, and that she would meet there at the same time with her little companions. The Coach and horses they were ready almost be­fore day; scarce was the Church doore opened but Adraste was got in; hee had heard at the least two Masses, before Plancus, or Melite came, though they failed not at the houre appointed them, bnt she that appointed it failing them many houres after. And after having waited one or two, which were so many ages to the impatience of Adraste; who had sent three or four Messen­gers one after another, that brought back word, that she was ready, that she was come out, that she came; shee arrived at last about ten a clock when every one began to despaire of her com­ming at all. And in place of excuse for having made the company stay so long, she would needs perswaded Adraste that hee was extremly bound to her for the pains shee had taken in getting so soon away from her houshold, and affairs both: for she told him that she had an occasion of ex­traordinary importance at the Palace, which she [Page 97] had neglected for his love. Adraste replyed not a word to that, but letting her say what she would, got him into the Coach with her, sufficiently manifesting by his silence, and looks that he was more offended at her words by which she would excuse her fault, then at the fault it selfe. They were soon out of the City keeping the direct way to Ruel, when Minerva angred at Adrastes si­lence and grudge, asked him whether he had de­sired her to accompany him into the Country to aire themselves there, or his ill humour? and see­ing he still forbore to speak, she continued, I am very unhappy to quit such company as adored and reverenced me, to finde me slighted here, and to have neglected my affaires, to offend them I thought to have obliged. Turn about Coachman, said Adraste, without answering Minerva, and drive to the Palace, that this Lady may by no means neglect her businesse. It is not possible to expresse the despight shee tooke at these words. He shall turn I assure you, said shee, or I will go back thither a foot. But Melite blaming Adraste, and gently entreating Minerva that would by all means have returned, perswaded so farre as they followed on their way to Ruel. Minerva notwith­standing having got out of the Coach, Adraste took her under the arme, and led her along a fair way more then a mile, whilst the Coach follow­ed them softly with the others that were in it. And as Lovers are soon angry, and soon pleased, and re-alight the fires of their affections by the breath of such brabbles, they had not so soone [Page 98] began to discourse together, but they became a­greed: For Minerva cared not if one offended her, so they asked pardon of the offence. And Adraste cared not to offend her on those termes, if it were a giving her offence, to resent the of­fence he had received from her. Arrived at Ruel, the first thing they talked of was dinner; after which they fell into discourse, which they them­selves would be much troubled to resaye, watch­ed yet by that importune old Beldam, who una­ble to follow them walking, left not yet to im­portune them with her eyes thorow every Ally of the plots, and parteries into which these excel­lently beautifull Orchards are divided. Notwith­standing, the burthen of age, and the care she had of the little ones in her charge, gave leisure and opportunity yet to our Adraste, somewhile to enjoy his Mistris in the cool of a shade, whilest Plancus and Melite entertained each other in ano­ther place, where in the presence of the Nymphs and other loanly deities of those sacred foun­tains, their waters were taken to witnesse the e­ternity of their flames. Adraste summoning yet, things more firme and solid, swore that the Hea­vens should change their course ere he his Mi­stris; and that the earth should sooner leave her firme stability, then his love its lasting quality. And Minerva swore that waters should rise up­ward, and fire descend downward, ere she would leave to love Adraste. But those things shee swore by being light, and transitory, could not produce but lightnesses, no lesse agreeing with [Page 99] their qualities, then her nature. After having plea­santly past the remaynder of this day, they took again the way back to Paris, so late as they durst stay, but they got not thither without danger, for the Coachman being drunk, drave his Coach so carelesly over a bridge in the way, as for lack of take heed, the Horses, Coach and all that was in had like to have faln into the water, but God was pleased to shew them the precipice onely, & keep them out of it. The rest of the way, they talked not but of the journey of Adraste, Minerva wish­ing it as short, as happy to him; and Adraste be­leeching her not to let such, (as then hee being present desired to crosse his fortunes) any way to ruine them in his absence; it being a certainty that such as sought to overthrow him, in her affe­ctions being now with her, would not forbeare when he were gone. Minerva complained of this his request, as grounded she thought, upon the mistrust Adraste had of her saith and constancie, and shewing him the Sun that as then yet shined; so long, said shee, as this so glorious a Planet, still shall be the light and comfort, of all mortall men, so long shall you be mine; I could pardon one that had not known my minde so well as you, but you are by so much the lesse excusable as you the better know it. Adraste excused him, if the dan­ger to lose a thing, the preservation wherof was so extreamly valued by him, and the losse so rui­nous, had constrained him to intreat her to pre­serve her affection to him; which should he lose, [Page 100] he must for ever grieve the mischance, and never cease to accuse his fate or indeferts, and keeping it as now she did assure him she would; he should part thence with such felicity, and comforts in himselfe, as he promised fortune, never more to to take offence at any lucklesse chance shee ere should put upon him. In conclusion of this Dis­course they came to the City, & to went set down Minerva at the end of the street wherin her house was, for she would not suffer them to accompany her any further, not for fear of Tatius who was farre enough off, and for whom she cared little, but for fear of increasing the jealousie of Crassus that lay at watch in the same street, where he had taken a lodging to wav-lay all resort to Miner­va'es. And for that shee desired they should be­lieve yet that she cared not for him; Adraste poor man that saw this, gave, as I say, more faith to the witnesse of her words in the contrary, then he put in his own eyes that saw it. For this cause it is; They say that love is blinde, insomuch as passion hood-winketh all such as follow him, troubles their judgment, and takes from them their very knowledge. Plancus went home with Melite, and Adraste retired to his own lodging with intent to write to Minerva, as if it had bin some long time, since he saw her furious effects of a violent and extraordinary affection, which we will now leave, the sooner to see the end of the first part of this Book.

CHAP. VI.

THat very Evening was Crassus ad­vertised of this walke of Minervas with Adraste, (they say he was so diligent in those things as he went even to the Divel himselfe for in­telligence) but his Empire being as yet not well confirmed, he durst not complaine but modestly to her, and was contented with reason backe. But the meanes by which he established his go­vernment, were quite contrary to those of A­draste, as the men, were nothing alike. For A­draste proceeded with freedome and all manner of ingenuousnesse, and Crassus went forwards by stealth, and in many windes and turns, hiding a profound designe, under an excellent Artifice. Adraste knowing that a generous spirit aimeth [Page 96] [...] [Page 97] [...] [Page 98] [...] [Page 99] [...] [Page 100] [...] [Page 101] [...] [Page 102] chiefly at glory, and holding Minerva for such, rendred her the honors Crassus could not; and without medling in her affaires, endeavored one­ly to conforme her to his pleasures, hoping that his compliance, gentile fashion and affection, should render him more worthy her love then his Rivall. Crassus tooke another course, for fin­ding that he had not in him those good parts that sufficed to win the heart of Minerva, & rēder him preferable to so many others at all parts better qualified then him, of all whom she was hono­red, and adored; under pretence of officiously embracing her affaires, first he got her papers, and writings into her hands, and not long after, her Iewells, to the end that both the one and the other, should render him necessary, since hee could not render himselfe amiable; and that this necessity, and fitnesse, might become love, as it had don with Tatius, though he had more cause to shun, then imitate the example, had hee beene counselled by his Reason, and not by his passion. And Minerva, that already once before had been taken in the like snare, after having beene often forewarned, suffered her selfe yet againe to bee caught, but it happened not till after the depar­ture of Adraste. In the meane time two or three daies after the journey to Ruel, the King leaving Paris to go to Saumur, caused Adraste to provide to follow him. VVhen see, upon an advise that Ar­lande was fallen sicke some forty Leagues from Paris, Minerva resolved presently to go see her, her affection overcomming all difficulties that [Page 103] opposed her endeavours, which indeed were then no small ones, for the want of a Coach, the aboundance of fowle weather, nor the inconve­nience of the waies, could any whit divert her therin. Crassus had the first notice, as he to whom the packets of Minerva were still addressed, who being unable to accommodate her with more then one Nag to carry her, it was needfull to make use of Adraste, but he was ready to be gone; and to borrow his Horses at the time of his de­parture, was somwhat out of season. Notwith­standing which, Minerva tould him, if hee were not urged to depart by any necessity, she would intreate him to lend her a horse for some five or sixe dayes. Adraste was so farre from refusing a horse to Minerva, that he could haue wished him­selfe one, for the happinesse of such a burthen, and already envied the honor of the beast should beare so sweet a burthen; which for all that had beene but a miserable good fortune, for shee re­turned him his horse so jaded, and cripled, as he never did him service after. But Adraste wished he had beene as much worth, as himselfe, or as much as he could hope in the world, and the the had died in her service; beleeving that his life could not be better emploied, then in so happy losse of it. But hee was not content to send her a horse onely, he went and offered himselfe to be her guide, all other occasions set apart, and most humbly intreated her to give him leave to waite upon her. She thanked him, prayd him to stay her returne to Paris, or newes of her there at least, [Page 104] and to take the charge on him, of sometimes see­ing her children for her, whom she left in the hands of the Governesse we have before spoke of: and parted the same evening in extream bad wea­ther, accompanied onely with one man, and a maide that attended her. Adraste bore her com­pany, untill such time as she commanded him re­turne; and being forbidden to follow her any fur­ther, hee accompanied her yet with his eyes so farre as his sight gave him leave, and then excee­ding pensive, he returned not to his lodging, but Minervas, to cheere him for her absence in the entertainment of her children. Who in the first innocence wherein they were yet, not knowing any thing of their Mothers absence, caused in him no lesse pitty of them, then she caused love in him. In the meane time while he busied him­selfe there, a knavish Laquay, with whom hee had increased his followers for the Iourney in­tended, having before taken notice of some mo­neys he had to that use provided, intended to lay hands on it, which he so happily brought about, that at his going from thence, Adraste found him­selfe first without Footman, and so soone as hee came to his Lodging, without money, which was indeed a divertisement, but very hurtfull to his purse, and little wholesome for his passi­on, for it yet hindred not, but he thought still on Minerva, that to say truth, tooke up his whole thoughts: And in the violence of that griefe hee suffered by the absence of two or three dayes, he apprehended what hee was to undergoe in the [Page 105] length of so many months, so as he was not one­ly burthened with his present ills, but likewise with those were to come. But Minerva having found her Mother in better state then she expe­cted, came backe to Paris eight daies after her departure, with the same diligence shee was gone from thence: and by her returne dispersed such clouds as darkned the serenitie of Adrastes spirits, that might say with one,

The first day of her arivall was passed in com­plements, gracious favours, and kind welcomes The second, however Adraste never feasted un­invited, as the French hath it, nor tooke notice of any others affaires, but when he was thereto required, shee intreated him to perswade one of her Farmors to give up the Lease of the lands she formerly had made him. This Tennant of hers was a clowne, if ever were such, and yet a more knave then clowne; So as hee deserved to have beene well cudgel'd, nor would Minerva have tane it amisse. But Adraste loving the reputation of his Mistris equall with his owne, and seeing it was not for the honour of the one or the other to beate this Looby, rendr'd him, how extream­ly so ever brutall, yet so capable of reason in the end, as he promised not onely to give up his Lease, but also to become conformable to the will and pleasure of Minerva. Minerva as then had few thoughts to which Adraste was not made [Page 106] privy, for in recompence of his service, she com­municated her secrets, at least such as he had not interest in. For proofe whereof, she recounted to him an action of Tatius, which well noteth the great confidence betweene them. Tatius being privately some time before come to Paris, got one day unperceived to his Wives house, where staying below in a little Parlour, hee caused Mi­nerva to be called downe thither, who not be­leeving she might honestly refuse to see her hus­band, not mistrusting any ill, came down to the same roome, where he stayed her. After having saluted, Minerva praying him to walke up into her chamber, he tould her, that he had but a lit­tle while to stay there with her, aud hee desired not to be seene, no not of her servants, and that being borne away by that extreame affection which he ever had for her, she must beleeve that this visit so unexpectedly made, and by stealth, was a sufficient testimony thereof. But thou most faire Minerva, cōtinued he, having tane her in his armes, art thou not in pitty any whit sensible of my misfortunes? Sir, answered Minerva, I am not so insensible & stony but I suffer some impression from your passion; and in your disgraces do com­passionate yet as in mine own. But you know well the cause that parted mine from your interest, and I wish no other Iudge in this case, then your selfe. Indeed said Tatius, I did not use you I confesse as your demerits did oblige me; but ex­cuse the passions of a Lover, pardon him that does repent him, forget the ills that I have done [Page 107] you, and but now remember you of all the good that I have wished you, you shall make nature a lyar, if you become not then as pittifull, as you are faire, if you have not the same sweetnesse in your minde you carry in your looks. They were all alone, for the servant that had called downe Minerva, was gon out, and Tatius enjoying those rights the opportunity, and his cōdition afforded him, and reducing so his words into actions tou­ching the heart of Minerva, which was not made of wood, or marble, as partly by consent, partly by force, he reentred the possession of those fa­vours he had formerly lost. But so soone as hee had satisfied his owne desires; See but the thanks of this disloyall▪ and ingratefull soule. No man can witnesse, said he, that I have now been heere, Thinke not I came for love of thee, but of my owne revenge; to the end, that after having left with thee what I can utterly deny, I so may give thee lost. Lo here the wicked act of Tatius, which amongst the most remarkable basenesses that ere were perpetrate, may hold the place of the most enormous treason, and the most faithlesse wic­kednesse, that husband ever committed gainst a wife. Minerva never trusted this secret but to the fidelity of Adraste, who never abused that trust, or ever wronged her in it, and if hee hath spoke on't since, it hath beene still to her defence, gainst such as have accused, and blamed her much, for living from her husband. And to make seen what cause she had to be for ever doubtfull and mistru­sting such and so inveterate and setled a malice.

[Page 108] As Adraste had no care that tended not to the service of Minerva; it seemed no lesse that shee had no inclination but tended to the love of A­draste: She spake not but of his merits, remem­bred her not but of his services, nor in appea­rance, thought of any thing more then of the meanes to acknowledge them. Yet this faire sun­shine, but presaged a storme. Sailors have cause to seare a calme too smiling, And physitians think it not amisse to doubt a health too perfect and se­cure; for as the one doth but presage a furious storme, the other argues still a dangerous disease. But when that sicknesse doth succeed excesse of health, Raines, a great winde, or stormes ensue grosse clouds, no man at all is moved thereat; for that already were foreseeen the signes that usual­ly precede. But when that in a time cleere and serene, the face of heaven is in an instant bound about with clouds; Or that we see a man to die at going out of bed, that did arise in health; Tis then we do become affraid, and that amazement, seiseth us, for that we are surprized, and by so much the more astonished, from these accidents as we could not foresee the event. So had there beene but any cause, or a pretext that had pre­ceded the disgrace of our Adraste, here, hee had not marvailed at it aught, for he knew well what kinde of soule he had to deale withall. But all at once when he the lest expected it, and that he did esteeme himselfe the most in favour with his Mi­stris, not knowing why, or doubting how, hee found him fallen in her contempt: and in the [Page 109] place of recompence and those kinde favours, whereof his tried affections, and his services did render him most worthy, he did yet undergo the scornes and chastisements, which he had no way merited. He had not three dayes to stay in Paris, when going to see her one morning a little later then hee was wont, hee found shee was gone to Church, whither very readily following her, ra­ther in desire to see her, then for any other devo­tion he had: It is no mervaile that God permitted him to be so ill entreated. She had in her com­pany only the Governesse, and had already heard Masse upon the arivall of Adraste, who having bid her good morrow, presented her his hand to leade her home, dinner time pressed them not so, but having sufficient leisure, fair weather to walk in, and the place they were in, inviting them thereto; Adraste, that thought he might have better liberty to entertaine her in this walke, then at her house, intreated her to take a turne in the Garden of that faire house, belonging to the Queene Mother. And Minerva admitted him to conduct her, as well to entertaine him, though very differently, and with an entertainment, and welcome much contrary to the desires and hopes of Adraste. So, as he pressed her to recompence his services, and at the least, would needes have some kinde favour from her; for him to beare along with him unto the warres. Minerva chan­ging her discourse, did tell him straite, that his so frequent visits, and disorderly addresses unto her, had scandalized her much with all the [Page 110] Neighbours bout her house, so as she was infor­ced to intreat him come more seldome there, that esteeming his company as she did, she could not deprive her of it, she sayd, with little griefe, of which she did beleeve that hee would have his part, but knowing likewise that he did esteeme more of her reputation, then himselfe, she hoped he alwaies would preferre that good, to any plea­sure that he could receive from seeing her; that would the best she might temper her sorrows for not seeing him, with the remembrance she would keepe of him; And never should she have so li­ving in her breast, ought else besides as that ever­lasting memory of his deserts. Adraste having such a lecture, upon the Eve of his departure, lost all manner of patience, and straite it came into his head, that it was but an effect of the jea­lousie of Crassus, and that contempt he had ever had of him till then, turned into fury; He remem­bred him of the advise Minerva her selfe had gi­ven, and how oft she had sayd that all her house was still averse to him but she; and casting an eye upon the Governesse, accompanied her, he did beleeve, as it was true indeed, that nothing but her counsailes, and seducements could have power to make her capable of his disgrace, and her maliciousnesse. And as amongst a multitude of things one knows not what to chuse, or leave; So Adraste did not know in so great choice, and such diversity of Reasons, what to answer her; so from the aboundance of his Reason, did pro­ceed his want of words. At the last his passions [Page 111] breaking silence, this he sayd. Madam, so long as you assured me that it could not alter your af­fection, I have scoft my enemies, and made mee merry at their jealousies; but now that you doe let me see the contrary, by a discourse so out of season, and all sence, it is no slighting them. And I see well to what it tends. Minerva perceiving that Adraste spake this by Crassus, answered in his favour, and by her answer as it were partaking in his interest, shee more incensed Adrastes fury, who not willing to continue this discourse fur­ther with a woman, and one he had so perfectly adored, left her to walke alone with the Gover­nesse, and went to Crassus his lodging, resolved if he met with him, to make him tak to his sword. But not finding him, hee passed away his rage in dining with an il appetite▪ Minerva retiring home extreamly grieved, that she had so reduced A­draste to despaire, and apprehending what mis­chance might rise thereon, instead of going to dinner, went to bed tormented even to death, and much offended at the Governesse, and Cras­sus too, the cursed Authors of so unhappy coun­sels. Crassus comming to her hereupon, and then much out of time, desiring to impart his pas­sions, found so ill a welcome, that having very handsomely received her leave to be gone, hee tooke her at her word, and went not onely away from her house, but out of the City also, though not very farre, for he returned within two daies, were it on his owne motion, or that she sent for him. Adraste having sent away his Equipage be­fore, [Page 112] but after the King▪ changed the desire he had to cal Crassus to accoūt, into a much better design of serving his Prince, and more bravely manife­sting his courage in occasions more honourable & more dangerous indeed to take his journy the next morning, with a Horse and one Laquay onely, which he had caused to be left for him, he was though to conclude his leave taking, and bid some adiew which as yet he had not done, and he determined to depart without once bidding far­well Minerva. Who returning the same day from Vespers, and seeing Adrastes Laquay who waited him with his horse at the door of a Ladies lodging by, asked him where his Master was? Madam answered the Laquay, he is within here. Why replyed Minerva, and is he not yet gone? not yet Madam but his Equipage is already well forwards on the way, these words touched the quick, for Minerva thought Adraste had not bin so neer ready, nor that hee could have resolved to part without bidding her adiew. But whatsoe­ver she thought, dissembling it before the laquay, she said to him well my good friend tell him, I pray, that I do kisse his hands. The Laquay failed not to tell his Master so at his comming out from thence, which did not alter him at all, but on the contrary the little day which yet rested importu­ned him more then that, and hee wished night were passed, to the end he might the next day make a great journey forward on his way, and by so much withdraw and bear himself the further from this thanklesse and ingratefull soul. Not­withstanding [Page 113] which he had wrote a Letter that he determined should be delivered to her when he was gone, by which he gave her to under­stand.

That if he had followed the stream of his first moti­ons, to which the violence of hers had born him, hee had let her see an action, which shee not onely had per­mitted, but the indifference that shee had manifested unto him, had cleerly ingaged him to. That hee had sought, found, and ruined the honour which she did so much esteem, or else himself, which yet hee could not think; or at the worst it had bin the best, that could befall him, for that his life was so unhappy by her meanes, as it must needs have been a great good for­tune to have lost it. But since upon reflection in him­self and having lesse regard to his own passions, then to the interest she had in them (whatever oath she had taken to have none) hee had believed that it should no way misbecome him, goe his way to a place, where a more great and honourable danger might make seen to her, his more obdience and courage, then hee could render her in the defeat of one, so miserable, whom he did deem sufficiently punished in the vexations shee would procure him. Besides he was not willing to ruine so many incomparable proofs of affection, as hee had daily manifested, by one action that might be the least displeasing to her; and not expecting that there could be found content for him after (for her pleasure) be­ing banisht from all that he enjoyed in the whole earth. That this had caused him hasten his desire, least some new accident, with the remembrance of so bloudy a [Page 134] discourtesie, bore him not yet to mend himselfe as hee could. And however that hee parted thence, deprived of the honour of her sight, by her so cruell doom, with as much spoile and ransack as an extreme fury could possibly make in the brest of a man, hee yet did beare along with him, those his affections to her as freshly li­ving even in this her great disfavour, as if shee had honord him with all the graces, that she could conferre. Which now hee did not say to bend her ought to pitty; for hee in giving her this last adiew, did give it also to all hope to see her face, or once to write to her more, but twas to let her see the constancie and excellence of his tryed love, since that he did conserve it yet, within the midst of losse, and that how low and base compa­red with his were those affections which she yet prefer­red to his.

Adraste bethinking him of means to deliverher this Letter, was visited by three or foure of his friends, that caused him to sup at home, and to passe with them the remaynder of this trouble­some day. After Supper, taking the ayre with the same company along the walk by the River, which is right against the Louvre, and talking of his departure, as one that meant to be on horse­back by eight a clock in the morning, he felt one pull him behind, and turning head, hee saw Mi­nerva's Footman, who having caused him break off discourse, and bid adiew to the company, pre­sented him with a note from his Mistris, which Adraste as then did not open, nor could hee have read it without light; But hast thou said he, to the [Page 135] Laquay, nothing else to say to me? No Sir, an­swerd hee, but that I most humbly kisse your hands. Well then, return said Adraste, and pre­sently bear back this Letter to your Lady, which I had thought should not have bin delivered till after my depart, and having given him his Let­ter, went into his lodging to read Minerva's, that was to this purpose.

These lines that bring you my adiew, since I my selfe cannot otherwise give it, may assure you that I doe wish you a happy journey, and a ready return that am your servant.

Howsoever Adraste were extreamly incensed against Minerva, he became so appeased by the reading this note, as he resolved to see her that Evening, though it were very late, In which might well be seen he was truly amorous; And that Minerva knowing him no lesse easie to be re­gained, then rejected, caused these devises with him on assurance or rather presumption she had of regaining, or calling him back at pleasure. Going then to her house, they told him that she was in bed: but if he would go up to her cham­ber he should not fail to see her. So went he up and having sat him down on her bed side, after saluting her, but with countenance somewhat cool, and shamefull, said she to him before he had leisure to speak. Now you see my goodnes very true, said Adraste, yet are you as slow of compas­sion, as ready of anger, if you were but as quick [Page 116] to heal, as you are to hurt you might yet be bet­ter. But what will you say of my easinesse, said she, that had not the heart to let you part, without calling you backe. Nay, what will you say of mine, answered Adraste, that had not the spirit to go my ways, after so many indignities, without returning upon so small a signe, as you gave me that you desired it. Call it not easinesse, it is obe­dience in you, answered Minerva, or rather your duty, you cannot be a slave, and a free man, both at once, nor to be to mee, and execute your own designes, without conforming them to mine. It is then lesse in you answered Adraste, without you will have it easines to call back by reason, him you had banished without cause. It was an easines in you to take from me your company, and a ge­nerosity, to render me again, since there is nought so slack and ill as is ingratitude, nor any thing more generous then is a free acknowledgment & requitall. You say your pleasure, answered Mi­nerva, and I have done as I ought. As you ought Madam, replyed Adraste, was it a part of your devoir, to forbid me visiting you the Eve of my departure, behoved it you, to have permitted me so long, just then to barre and keepe me out. Be­hoov'd it you to have so many times given notice to me of my Rivals jealousies, to banish me upon the first complaint I made of them, and openly so much oppose your passions, to my Reasons. Nay, sayd Minerva, lets abolish now, and quite forget those things; I protect the absent gainst the present ever. And you are ignorant what I [Page 117] have said to him on your behalfe, you being a­way; and you perhaps thinke much at what hee holds himselfe contented with. Madam answe­red Adraste, absolutions and forgivenesses, if so you meane, are still for crimes, as recompences are for services. You have cause to wish you could forget the wrongs you have done to mee; And I have reason nerethelesse to urge my satis­faction. As to the cause that others have to please themselves, or to complaine them, of the usage, good, or ill, that you afford to them, I not ob­serve, or neere, or further off. I have told you heretofore, that your deportment was so just on my behalfe, as that the very wrongs which you have done to mee; to me, have yet seemed good. But I complaine that any one should ere controle both mine, and your carriage, that people no way interessed in the one, or other, should yet take upon them both. And above all I needes must grieve, that you, that ought not once to grant your pardon to the thought, should have so much approved the effect, as that in place of being offended gainst that tyranny, seeks to sub­ject you, to the furious jealousie of one; you take offence against your humblest vassall, that hath never ownd a thought, but how he might honor you. Well then sayd Minerva, if I have done you any offence, I hope you now are satisfied? And Madam from what satisfied? from seeing you so beautifull within your bed, answered Adraste, that indeed were well, if so we could be satisfied by sight. Is there a greater satisfaction to see the [Page 118] party that you love, replied Minerva. Not any said Adraste, so as we likewise may possesse it too. But otherwise the sight of what wee have not power to enjoy, doth serve but to torment us more. And by so much as it is deare to us, even by so much it breedeth our vexation more, and chiefly when it rests in the possession of an other too, and one that altogether is unworthy of it. They did proceed so farre in this discourse, as the whole house at last were fallen a sleepe, some here, some there. Adrastes boy that had atten­ded below in the Court, seeing that it was alrea­die so late, that they were all fallen a sleepe in the house, retired to his Masters lodging, and left him there; beleeving he would passe the night as he did. But Adraste, and Minerva, slept not, it being scarse long enough to finish one part of what they had to say. And at last, there was not any thing that parted them but day. Minerva, being affraid that Adraste might be seene to goe out of her house, intreated him to go his way, and that hee would see her againe before his de­parture. Sweet light, doth rejoyce the heart of all mankind, and which of all things in the world, art most delightfull, and most beautifull, how importune, as then wert thou? and much displea­sing to these happy Lovers heere. And oh sweet night, offensive onely, that thou wert too short, permit that I expresse the rest of their kinde lan­guage, each to the other then, by thy own silence. And that I never violate the sacred mysteries, of thy lov'd shades. Adraste seeing that he needes [Page 119] must part, and judging of the paine, and suffe­rance, he was to undergo in parting from Miner­va, when as he must away unto the Campe, by that he now did feele, in but retiring to his bed. Oh me my greatest blisse, sayd hee, why should we ever part? what ominous starre, what Spirit of portent, or what cursed state is it, hath power to force me to it? Alas, I doe but hunt, and run in quest of that false honour that deceiveth me, to leave that true and reall glory, that does render me content. Nay Sir, go on, sayd she, you can­not part from me, for I shall ever follow you, at least in my imaginations, since that it is not lesse within my choice, to live within your sight. Oh mee my better Genious! sayd Adraste, then. I here consigne you ore my life, and doe conjure you there withall, that you doe still remember you of this your promise made. Assure you sayd Minerva, I shall sooner lose the memory of my name, then ever of this promise made to thee. And that I sooner will bee drawne to leave my life, then this possession thou hast put me in. I sweare this by thy selfe, that art the onely thing I wish to sweare by under heaven. And adue my deare Adraste, content thee yet with this my full assurance given. My goddesse, then farwell A­draste sayd, in going backe, Once as yet, farwell, And againe once more, farwell. Adraste being parted from Minerva, as from his owne Soule, how ever no lesse contented in her favours, then an other Iason in his conquest, retired to his lod­ging by the light of the morning, which he could [Page 120] more willingly have cursed, then saluted, for ha­ving so soone brought backe the day: And go­ing to rest at such an houre, as others rise, and as he had beleev'd he should have rose himselfe, in­stead of being on horsebacke at eight a Clocke, according to his forecast, hee found it was almost eleven, when he was yet in bed. But he had pro­mised Minerva to see her at ten, who perceiving the houre passed, went to Masse, and to meet him, she made choice of the next Church to his lodg­ing. But Adraste being up, sayd prayers, and broke his fast almost together, and both in haste, with a gentleman that had stayed for him, even since the morne, to go along with him. So soone as he had dispatched such incumbrances, as ordi­narily doe hinder men upon their leaving such a Citty. At last hee got on horsebacke, after one thousand adues of his friends, and went on pas­sing by the Lodging of Minerva; there yet, to enjoy one moment of the pleasure, of which hee now went to deprive him utterly. Minerva ha­ving commanded at her going out, that they should tell him at what Church shee would be, He prayed the company ride on, whilst he went backe thither, though it were a good way off. But he would have gone much further: Minerva being gon on foot for love of him; well might he go on horsebacke for the love of her so farre. He found her at the church, just as the masse was done, when her devotions being finished, shee rested wholy in expectance of him. After ha­ving pratled some while at the Church, hee led [Page 121] her backe to her house, there to chat at more li­berty, and having withdrawne her againe unto her bedside, where he so happily had passed the former night. Good gods, what sayd they not? Oh Love! how much renowned mightst thou render mee herein. And I againe might render thee most famous to the world, if so thou wouldst inspire mee now, but with a part of those adues they tooke. Minerva heretofore more cruell then a Lyonesse, was then become more gentle then a Dove. Adraste holding her between his armes, transported with this object of his high felicity, and present happines, remembred now no more the great misfortunes he had passed. Oh happy condition of a bless'd and perfect Lover, had it not beene disturbed by the apprehension that he had of loosing it. It was past two a Clocke, be­fore Adraste could remember him to take his leave, or that Minerva thought it time to dine. But Adraste fearing to spoile Minervas dinner, & Minerva being afraid to hinder Adrastes journey, both of them gave way to the necessity of a se­paration, and in the end resolved them of their last farwell. But God knows with what violence their soules met in the kisses of their lips; and then their hearts feeling the one to approach the other, leaped with such force, as it did seeme they would have changed place. Adraste never ceasing to conjure her love him still, and to write to him oft. Intreated her now to bestow a favor of him, that hee might beare in this warre, and with the title of her Cavalier, or Palladin. The fa­vour [Page 122] was promis'd, but not given, because Miner­va did desire to have it a scarfe of such a fashion, as would take more time, then she as then had to make it up. The quality of Paladine was yet con­ferred on him, as we shall tearme him in the second part of this history; which we hope ere long to render you more pleasant, and He­roicke then this First.