THAT you may the better understand this Story, it is requisite that you know part of the Customes of this Island, the which I will in a few words acquaint you with, that my ensuing Discourse may appear lesse tedious to you. You must then know, Sir, that this goodly Island, [Page 2] which for its precinct, situation, fertility, for the beauty and greatnes of its Towns, and its Magnificent Temples, passeth for the most famous and most considerable of as many as lie on the Aegean Sea, hath al­ways been consecrated to Venus; and that love, which every where else is a passion, which hath no particular priviledges, is in this place accounted a religious act. All that are born here, seem as if they were bound to love from their very birth; all the Temples are dedicated to Venus, under several name [...]; all the pictures and statues here, represent only this Goddess, and depend only upon her. You shall finde here Cupid set out every where, and those who instruct us elsewhere virtuously in our youth, by teaching us how to over­come ambition, anger, hatred, envy, and all other passions; deal otherwise with us here, perswading us only how to love in­nocently. But as there is nothing so pure or refined, which meets not with alterati­on and corruption at the last; a strange disorder crope in long since amongst us: for you must know the first Temple which was consecrated to Venus, was that of Venus Urania, who we say, is the daugh­ter [Page 3] of Heaven. This Venus as we believe, in­spires only rational resentments, and ver­tuous passions: whereas on the contrary, there are some Temples on the utmost borders of the Isle towards the South, built long since the former, which are dedicated to Venus Anodema, as much as to say, to Venus comming forth from the foam of the sea. Now Sir, these Temples doe differ very much, as doe their resent­ments, who offer sacrifices at them; yet as those Religions wherein Libertinism passeth for a vertue, are grounded with most ease, the Religion of Venus Anadio­mena, hath for a long time prevailed over that of Venus Urania; and our Island hath seen things which makes those even blush with confusion, who remember they have heard them spoken of by their forefa­thers: but thanks to Heaven, a vertuous Queen, who lived some sixty years since, did re-establish all the Temples of Venus Urania; made almost all those of Venus A­nadiomena, be beaten down; abolisht all the shameful customes which were intro­duced in Cyprus, and left only pure re­sentments amongst us of that passion, which is the soul of the Universe, and [Page 4] which is the sole entertainer of civil socie­ty. We are now taught to love our God­desse, our Princes, our Laws, our Coun­trie, our fellow-Citizens, our Parents, Bre­thren, Wives and Children; and lastly, to love our selves, to the end that we may do no shameful act. We are taught also to love Glory, Sciences and Arts; to love in­nocent pastimes, and to love beauty and vertue above all that hath been spoken of: in fine, we are taught that he who loves not, is not rational, and that not to have a sense of all these aforementio­ned things, is to be very much to blame. You may easily imagine then, that this be­ing a belief generally held amongst us, the Court of Cyprus must needs be a pleasing abode, since every one there loves hand­some actions, and handsome personages. True it is, that according to the rules of Venus Urania, the love by her permitted, is so pure, so innocent, so free from having any thing to doe with the senses, and so free from fault, as she seems to suffer us to love others only, that we may make our selves become the more lovely, through our care of meriting true glory, of becoming accomplisht, and of getting [Page 5] that Courtly Air, and pleasing conversati­on, which is only inspired by love. This Sir, is the present condition of our Island; all delights are here, but all innocent. Love is the predominant, and universall passion in it, but such a passion, as is not incompatible with vertue and modesty, and which hinders not many lovers from complaining of their Mistresses rigour. Publick festivals are here frequent, con­versation free enough, but wholly spiritu­all, games for prizes very usual, pleasing Bals, excellent Musick, and Women in general, infinitely handsome, full of gal­lantry, and perfectly vertuous. But of all the rest, the Princesse of Salmis, sister to Philoxypes, was the Court-Star, till such time as she withdrew her self from thence. The Princesse Aggharista, now Princesse of Cicily, is also very taking, and the famous Artaphil doubtlesly bears a great renown. To boot with these there is one called Timoclea, and an hundred o­thers, of somewhat a meaner condition, which are wonderfully handsom. But Sir, lest I may prove too tedious, I will brief­ly tell you that the King who now reigns in Cyprus, is but two years elder then [Page 4] [...] [Page 5] [...] [Page 6] Prince Philoxypes, who is descended from the Race of Demophon, son to Theseus, who is held in great esteem amongst us. Phi­loxypes in his yonger years, you may easily judge was one of the loveliest personages which could be seen; for though he be now twenty eight years old, he continues to be so extraordinarily handsome, and so well behaved, as it may easily be guest what he was when a childe; and though he were wise even from his cradle, and knowing, even from the time he began to speak, yet ceased he not to be of a plea­sing humour, and comportment, such as is only infused by youth, and the air of the Court, and which is the charm of conversation amongst Ladies. In fine, set one article aside, Philoxypes may be truly said, to have fully satisfied and made good all the precepts of Venus Urania.

He reverenced the Goddesse, he loved his Prince, kept the Laws, he loved his Country, his fellow Citizens, was am­bitious of glory, which he went inquest of at fifteen years of age in the Milesean War, wherein he gave singular testimo­ny of his carriage. He loved the Scien­ces, and all the liberal Arts; delighted in [Page 7] innocent pastimes, and loved vertue a­bove all things; but as for beauty, he had only a general admiration for it, and ne­ver felt in himself, any particular addi­ction or adheration to any whatsoever handsome Lady. You may imagin Sir, how strange this insensibility appeared, in a Court where it met not with any exam­ple, and in a man so fit to occasion love. Yet was he so lovely, as he was not for this the lesse beloved; he was so liberal, so magnifical, so full of complacency, and so civilly behaved, as he was the wonder of the world.

When Solon after having establisht those famous Laws at Athens, went from thence, resolving to forgoe his Country for ten years, to the end that he might make no alteration there, he came to our Court; Philoxypes, who was then but eighteen years old, had a great affection for him, as he had likewise for Philoxetes; insomuch, that as long as Solon abode in our Isle, Phi­loxetes gave over all his other delights, and the frequenting of the Ladies companies to fasten himself totally to him: whom that he might enjoy with the more free­dome, he carried him to a Town of his [Page 8] which is called Apia; built by Demaphon in a very strong, but rocky situation, and of hard accesse, all the Countrey about it being craggy, dry, and exceeding barren. Solon being come thither, shewed him how that they that laid the foundations of that Town, might have made it much more pleasanter, if they had built it upon the banks of the River Claria, in a spaci­ous and fertile plain, which lies at the foot of the Mountain, where the other Town was situated; hardly had Solon spoke his thought, when Philoxypes resol­ved to put it in execution, and began al­ready to give all necessary orders for it. And indeed Solon was the Architect who guided this great enterprise, Philoxypes giving him the glory thereof, for he cal­led this new Town Soly, to perpetuate the memory of the name of Solon. This place being not far from Paphos, one of our Kings most usual abodes, they went oft to the Court; where our Ladies com­plained sometimes of Solon, who by be­reaving them of Philoxypes, bereft them of their fairest ornament; and to shew you how great this Prince his inflexibility was, Solon whose vertue is not austere, to [Page 9] justifie himself to those that blamed Philoxypes for this, telling him that love was a passion, which sweetned all other passions, and which did sometimes exceed them all. That for his part, he confest he would never set his whole heart against it, and that he thought it no shame to be once in his life overcome thereby. Phi­loxypes said in his defence, that he loved all that was lovely, that he had a passion for all beautiful objects, and that no man ever lov'd so much as he. But notwithstan­ding all his universal affections, there was no one so fair in all the Court, who could boast in her particular to have inthralled his heart; and who peradventure had not more then once consulted with her glasse, to know by what innocent art this so fa­mous heart might be taken: but at last, after having staid a good while, Solon went his way much taken with Philoxypes his ver­tue, and made some verses in his praise before he imbarked for Egypt. He who was commended by all Greece, did highly commend this young Prince; saying, that Nature had taught Philoxypes in eighteen years, what Art could not teach in an Age, and that a man might see in him by [Page 10] way of prodigy, all the ages of man put together; that is to say, the innocence of infancy, the charms of youth, the forti­tude of a more advanced age, and the wisdome of old age. After his depar­ture, Philoxypes was somewhat melancho­ly, but this humour being over, he spent some time in travel, and did not only see whole Greece, but likewise the famous Ci­ty of Carthage, which did then wage war with the Massiliens, who inhabit a place which they have of late made famous, by a cry'd up Academy, wherein eloquence, and all the Grecian Sciences are rarely well taught.

I will not relate unto you all the gal­lant actions he did in Africa, nor what befel him during that Journey, which continued till some moneths before you came to Cyprus; where Solon stayed a­while again, not suffering himself to be seen almost by any one. But I will tell you that Philoxypes at his return to Court, charm'd all the world; and that the King himself grew so far in love with him, as never was known so great a favour as his, nor yet so little envyed; neither did he make use thereof, but for his Masters glo­ry, [Page 11] and to do good to as many as he could; he rceceived no rewards, but to enrich such as stood in need thereof; all the ad­vises he gave, were good; he did none but good offices: and thus he stood fair in the opinion of the great ones, and of the people, as well as in that of the King; and there were none but our Ladies who continued to accuse him of inflexibility. Thus did he live amidst delights, in the stateliest and most gallant Court of all the world, without envy, without love, and without melancholy. But the King was not this mean while so happy as he; for after having had some flitting passions, w ^ch had notwithstanding much disquieted him, he fell mightily in love with the Princesse Aretephile, who certainly is very beautiful, and hath an hundred good qualities; but who withal this was ex­treamly ambitious. The King was no sooner aware of the violence of this his passion, but that he discovered it to Phi­loxypes, and entreated him to intercede for him with Aretephile, who at that time did often visit the Princesse Agarista, sister to Philoxypes. You may imagin this Prince did not refuse to assist him, since his affe­ction [Page 12] was innocent; yet did he sometimes crave pardon of the King, if he did not much bewail him in his disquiets: For Sir, said he, love being a malady which I am not acquainted with, and which I have much to imagine is so great as man would have it thought, I confesse I doe not so much compassionate your Majesty, as perdaventure I ought; & consequently, I may perchance not so fully exaggerate your sufferings as I should do, when I speak with the Princesse Aretephile. Fear not Philoxypes, said the King, that I com­plain of your inflexibility; on the con­trary, if you had a more tender heart, I would not have chosen you for the con­fident of my passion: and did I think that you could become my rival, I would not give you Commission to speak so of ten with my beloved Princesse. But my intention not being to speak of the Kings love, otherwise then as it relates neces­sarily to Philoxypes adventures; I will on­ly tell you that though Aretephile were ra­visht to see her self beloved by the King, yet aiming at the Crown of Cyprus, she thought she was a little to disguise her sense thereof, and to make it a harder [Page 13] matter for the King to win her, then she had found it to win the King: So as this Princesse behaved her self with much dis­cretion and reservednesse, and mingling continually severity with mildnesse, the King stood long in need of Philoxypes assi­stance, whom Aretephile, who knew what power he had with the King, used with all possible civility. Philoxypes was not­withstanding sometimes much troubled at the continuance of this passion, which made him for his recreation, go to a very stately house, which the famous Solon had caused to be built for him neer Soly, and wherein he had made a collection of what­soever Greece had of most rare & curious, were it either for pictures, or statues. In this place it was, which is called Claria, where wondring sometimes at the Kings passion, he did me the honor to bemoan himself to me of his employmen, and he himself gave me a thousand pleasant marks of his inflexiblenesse, by those things which he uttered against love. This mean while though the King were much in love with Aretephile, yet he had some­what to do to perswade himself to marry her, because indeed in reason he should [Page 14] much rather have married the Princesse Thimoclea, by reason of some claim she pretended to have to the Principality of Amathusa; insomuch as the King being yet unresolved what to doe, had not as yet acquainted Aretephile, nor let her be ac­quainted that his love tended meerly to set her upon the Throne; but only fol­lowing the custome of Cyprus, he had suf­ficiently witnessed his service, and to purchase her esteem, had done whatsoe­ver a handsome and ingenious Prince se­conded by Philoxypes, could doe, who though he were himself insensible of love, was notwithstanding a very great gallant; so as Aretephile who was absolute­ly resolved never to part with her heart for lesse then a Crown, treated the King sometimes severely enough, in­somuch as the whole Court was troubled thereat, and Philoxypes delight lay onely in Hunting, and in his stately Country house. Some other times Aretephile fea­ring lest she her self might extinguish the fire which she had kindled in the Kings heart, was somewhat more kinde unto him, and by the Prince his Joy, rejoy­ced the whole Court. 'Twas then in one [Page 15] of these pleasant conjuncture of times, that Phyloxypes to oblige the King, made the Princesse of Salamis his sister, and the Princesse Agharista doe him the honour to entertain the King upon a day that he invited the King and all the Court to goe from Paphos to Claria, and to passe one whole day in his retiredness, which indeed deserved to receive so Princely a company. Never was there so gallant an Assembly as this; it was wholly composed of young and handsom personages, of great birth, and under­standing: and one would have said, that fortune had favoured Philoxypes, in orde­ring it so as that all persons of quality who were peevish or of ill humour in the Court, were either sick that day, or busi­ed about some important affairs, so as this well compacted company was not troubled with the importunity of any of their companies: On what side soever they did cast their eye, they met with nothing but goodly objects, there was no fear of being wearied or anoyed. Philo­xypes had taken such excellent order for all things, were it either for the stately furniture of the house, for the magnifi­cency [Page 16] of the Feast, or the excellency of the Musick, as the King to give him the highest praise he could, said aloud, that if Philoxypes had been in love, and that his Mistresse had been in that company, he could have done no more then he did. On the contrary, Sir, said Philoxypes, I think that if I had been in love, all things would have been much more in disorder, then they are; it seeming impossible to me that a man should lose his reason, and yet have leisure enough to think of such trivial affairs. The King began then to oppose Philoxypes, and to tell him that he did little know the effects of this passi­on; and this he did more then once, as well for that he could hardly find a more pleasing entertainment by discourse, as also that by reproaching Philoxypes with his ignorance of love; he thereby found an opportune means to make the Prin­cesse Aretephile, who listen'd unto him, know that the passion he had for her, had made him very expert therein, Philoxy­pes did defend himself the best he could. Sometimes he said the fear of not being beloved kept him from loving; sometimes that he had so nice a soul as did avoid [Page 17] such pleasures as could not be purchased without pain; and consequently that love not being a voluntary thing, he was not to blame for that he did not love: and for his last reason, he said that the difficulty of the choice made him that he neither did, nor could resolve on any; for Sir, said he to the King, how is it possible to have the affrontedness to prefer any one of so many handsome personages as I see before all the rest? Ah, Philoxypes, said the King, the more you speak of love, the more pity doe you move in me; and (speaking low in his ear) the more said he doe you make me see that my Con­fident will never bee my rival. After this, all the Ladies, and all the men of quality, began to argue the matter with him; he did sometime almost hate them all for their reproaching him with his in­flexibility. When they had dined, Phi­loxypes led all this fair assembly into a stately gallery, painted all over by the hand of an excellent Master, named Man­drocles, who is of the Isle of Samos, and who having finisht this rare work, some few days before this great Feast, was returned to his own Countrey.

[Page 18] The story of Venus Urania, was the sub­ject of all those pictures, in whom no­thing but modesty was to be discerned. The Painter had not drawn the Graces all naked, as they usually are drawn, but had clothed them in transparent tiffeny, which rendred all those figures very de­lightful; in one of the draughts, you might see Venus descend from Heaven in a Chariot, all of burnisht gold drawn by Swans; a thousand little Cupids seemed to hover about her, and to be the first that lighted in the Isle of Cyprus, w ^ch is repre­sented in the same piece, to prepare all things to receive her; in another piece, all those little Cupidons, erected unto her an Altar of Turffs, and made dressings of flowers to adorn her; in another piece, this Goddess teacheth Cupid how to chuse his golden shafts, which he meant to use; and in another, she put a Torch into his hand, and shewing him the Sun which is painted at the top of that piece, seems as if she would tell him that she would have the flames wherewith he sets hearts on fire, to be more pure then the beams of this glorious constellation. In fine, Sir, this Goddess is represented in [Page 19] above twenty parts of this gallery; but though in different postures, you may still discerne the same countenance. Though all in this Gallery bee beauti­full, this figure is incomparably be­yond all the rest: all the rest are pictures, but this seems to be effectually a divine personage; for certainly there was never any thing seen of so much handsomnesse; all the fair Ladies who Philoxypes had brought thither, were amazed to see it, and maugre themselves confest that their glass shewed them nothing like it. All their eyes were fixt upon a face so full of beauty, and they all agreed in one, that the Painters imagination had far outdone what ever nature had done of most ac­complisht. After they had well eyed this Venus, for my part, said the Princess A­retephile, I would fain know whether Philoxypes heart could resist a personage who should perfectly resemble this pi­cture? Since I have been able (replyed he) to behold all these Ladies that are here, without daring to professe my ser­vice, it is to be believed, I should be as insensible for her, or rather as full of re­spect for her, as I have been for all the rest that I see, who are no less fair then he [Page 20] this Venus. Tis not notwithstanding (said he smilingly, and without any other de­sign, then to say somewhat of gallantry to entertain conversation) that I am not glad that this picture is only the effect of the famous Mandrocles imagination. For I confess unto you there is a certain char­ming, modest, and passionate aire in the eyes of this Goddesse, which would per­adventure please me too much, were it a living beauty. Philoxypes had no sooner said this, but all the company began to smile at this first mark of his tendernesse, which they had never before observed in him. There was not any one of them who would not willingly, if it had been possible, have inspired life into this pi­cture, that they might see whether Phi­loxypes might be bent by her or no; and whether his rebel heart to love, would prove proof against her extraordinary charms. If this could be, said Princess Thi­moclea, I wish at least that this fair personage should have as much sweetness in her soul as in her eyes, to the end that nothing might be wanting to Philoxypes happiness. On the contrary, said the Princess of Sala­mis, me thinks it were to be wisht, that (to punish my brother for his inflexibili­ty) [Page 21] she were as cruel, as fair; and I doubt me, added Aretephile, whether for his grea­ter punishment, she were not to be wisht to be proud and stupid: or rather, said Princess Agherista, inconstant, fickle, alte­ring her humour every day; and for his yet farther punishment, added the King smilingly, that she were all that you all have said. At these words Philoxypes de­sired so much favour of them, as that they would suffer him to enjoy that quiet which liberty bestowes on them who pos­sesse her: but the Sun being already low, he mentioned a walk to this fair company, who without resistance glad­ly accepted thereof. He led them into a large plot of ground, which makes an I­sland; for he had drawn a branch of the River of Claria round about it. Passing from thence over a little bridge, with ballasters of brass, he led them into an allie of Orange Trees, twelve hundred paces long, which the Sun could never get into, so large are those Trees, and so thick covered with leaves and flowers. Amidst this Allie there crosses a Channel of running water; at last you come to a place where eleven Allies cross one ano­ther; [Page 22] at the end of which, the river is every where seen, as if it were so delighted with that place, as it were loth to leave it. All these Allies are either of Orange Trees, or Citron Trees, or Myrrhe, or Lawrel, or Pomegranats, or Palm Trees: but after being come to the end of one of these Allies, into which Philoxypes sent them, they found themselves in a large Meadow, which is cut through in the middle by the River, which gathered to­gether in that place, seems to be a great channel, which hath on its banks neither canes, nor rushes, nor reeds, nor little shrubs, but is only bordered by thick turff, and all besprinckled over with Flags of differing colours, with Narcis­susses, with Lillies, and all other flow­ers, which love moisture and freshness. There are likewise on this River, great store of Swans, which swim so demurely, as you would think they were afraid to trouble the water which bears them up: and that there might nothing be wanting to this entertainment, Philoxypes had so ordered it, as this River was all covered over with Boats, made like Gallies, pain­ted with lively colours, and guided by [Page 23] young Boyes in Maratin apparel, but ve­ry handsome; who rowing gently with Oars painted red and green, came to the bank to receive this gallant company, who were played unto on rustick Musick by yong Shepheards very quaintly clo­thed, who drove heards along that Mea­dow on the other side of the River. Their Shepheards crooks were all trimmed with brass guilt over, & strewed over with cyphers; their Flutes and little Bagpipes were as well deckt as were their sheep, all whose horns were loaded with flow­ers. In divers parts of this Meadow, were an hundred lovely Shepheards, clo­thed in white, with hats of roses, who to make the place the more pleasing, mixt the melody of their voices to the rustick Musick aforesaid. So sweet a place being doubtlesly proper to infuse joy, and plea­sure, being no disposition to cruelty; the King found Aretephile a little more gentle; and all the worst treated lovers of this company, found at least some truce to their sufferings, and were maugre them­selves delighted with so lovely a place, which was bounded about by a very high Pallesade, wherein Niches placed at e­quall [Page 24] distances, were statues of white Marble, the rarest that were ever seen in Greece.

But I may seem to be my self inchanted in a place so full of charms, since I stay so long thereon: I must then haste to make this fair company depart, whom Philoxypes waited on back to Paphos, after having offered them a famous banquet. Some few days after, being teturned home, with intention to entertain himself alone there for two days, he spent all that time very contentedly: But Philoxypes his hu­mour lying rather to like general beau­ties, wherein art hath nothing to do, then those where art undertakes to perfect na­ture; went out of his Park, and unac­companied by any save one servant, he went to the River side, intending to walk along it till he should come to the head therof, which is not far from thence, and which certainly is one of the goodli­est things in the world: For this miracu­lous Spring-head, which of it self makes a River, is inclosed by Rocks of an un­accessible height; at the foot of the grea­test, and highest whereof, is a large cave which extends it self even to the loss of [Page 25] sight, both on the right hand & on the left, under unaccessible Rocks. At the bot­tome of this Cave, is a silent spring, which sometimes riseth up to the top of the den, and sometimes falls so low, as it is not above five or six foot high. This inequality is the cause why the River of Claria, as well as all the others of Cyprus, pass rather for a fair Torrent, then for a River; though this be not positively so, for it is never altogether dried up, as are all the rest. As he went towards this Cave, he got off horse-back, leaving his horse with his servant, commanding him to wait his return, and not to follow him.

Thus did he walk all alone, along these Torrents, with the sight and noise whereof, he was much delighted, when raising up his eyes, he might see some twenty paces off, a very handsome wo­man, though in a mean habit, who was sate upon a Rock, all covered over with moss; and who seemed to take pleasure in eying attentively the fall of waters which came rushing at her feet, as if to do her homage. At first Philoxypes thought not to trouble the contentment of one [Page 26] whose humour was so conformable to his, to sit musing upon the River side, and to turn a little aside, that he might not inter­rupt her. But being come a little neerer, and seeing that her apparel though clean, and handsome, gave her not out to be a personage of quality, he went directly towards her, because that was the easiest way. But being come very neer her, and the noise his walking made, having made this woman look about, he was strangely taken; not only to see the handsomest creature in the world, but to discern per­fectly that, that miraculous Venus which he had in his Gallery, and which he had alwayes taken onely for the effect of a handsome imagination, was really the picture of this personage; Philoxypes, ra­visht at this so strange apparition, chan­ged his colour; and saluting this maid with more civility then her condition seemed to require, he advanced yet nee­rer her; but she rising up in haste, and ha­ving not without a blush paid him his salute, as if she had been troubled to be seen alone in that place, she hasted to go unto an old man and a woman well-ad­vanced in years, who were not above [Page 27] twenty paces off her; yet fearing by like to be followed, she turned her head twice towards Philoxypes, who was still the more dazeled with her beauty, and more confirmed in his opinion. This Prince surprised at this encounter, had a great desire to know who this yong and so wonderfully handsome maid might be; and to know also how Mandrocles could come to draw her picture; and why Man­drocles had always told him, that the pi­cture which he had drawn, was only an effect of his fancy: He followed her with his eyes as far as he could; but having stood still a pretty while, not knowing why he did so, he lost sight of her amongst those Rocks after she was come up to those she went unto, so as he could no more discover her.

Philoxypes did not overmuch endevour it, though his minde led him very much thereunto, but coming neer the River side, in stead of continuing to walk to­wards the Spring head, he went down the stream; and were it by hazard, or out of design, he happened to rest him­self upon the same Rock covered with moss, on which he had seen the fair maid [Page 26] [...] [Page 27] [...] [Page 28] sit. Philoxypes being there, could think on nothing, but on this fair unknown one, and upon the pleasing adventure which had befaln him. He then remem­bred the discourse which had past in the Gallery, and what he had said of that pi­cture which every one so much commen­ded; and delighting to entertain him­self upon this subject, how glad said he unto himself, would Princesse Aretephile be, if she knew what had befaln me, and how would the King mock me if he heard it? They would certainly say, that the Goddess had wrought a miracle to punish me, by making me meet with a Country wench, of whom to make the object of my choice. But said he, presently after, this Country maid is fairer then whatsoe­ver there is of beauty in the Court; and I shall sufficiently revenge my self of all our Ladies, if I can once more meet with her, and let them see her. He then resol­ved to return the next day to the same place, and in the mean time not to speak of her till he had found her again. He then returned home, but full of amaze­ment; at his first arival, he went strait to his Gallery, and grew so confident in his [Page 29] belief, that his Venus Urania was the very picture of this fair unknown one, as he doubted no more thereof. He compared all the features of this picture, with the image which he bare about in his mind, not finding any difference between them save that the original was farre above what ever Mandrocles with all his art, could represent. He seemed to have ob­served in her face, a much more pleasing youthly aire, a much more majestical modesty, and a sweetness infinitely more alluring. In fine, the Prince Philoxy­pes, who had wont to be more in his Clo­set, then in his Gallery, perceiving that the sight of this picture detained him there, whether he would or no, went forth much perplext to see that once in his life time, he could not master his affe­ctions. He past the rest of that day, and all the next night, not being able to eface this pleasing phantosm out of his minde. The next day he returned to the same place where he had seen that fair one, still thinking how he should be pleased to cause her be seen by the King, and the whole Court. But though he went up the River, even up to the head thereof, he [Page 30] could not finde her; he sought her long in vain; and being angered thereat, he sought whether he could not finde some little track about that place where he had seen the fair unknown one; but it being all Rocky, no impression of foot­steps could be seen there, nor could there be any track found amongst the Rocks. Desperate then, as he was not to finde any knowledge of what he so much desi­red, he returned back, absolutely re­solving not to return any more to that place: yet was he no sooner at home, but that he wisht to be at the River side; he enquired of all his servants, if they had never met any body thereabouts, which resembled that Venus; and askt them very particularly, into what pla­ces, and into what houses Mandrocles went when he painted his Gallery? They an­swered, that they had never seen her whom he spoke off, and that Mandrocles was a solitary man, who saw no body, who spent all his time in designing a­mongst those Rocks; and that he took almost always the way towards the head of Claria. Philoxypes not able to learn a­ny more, did what he could to think no [Page 31] more thereon; but though he had resol­ved to return next day to Paphos, he stayed at Claria, (for his house bears the name of the River which passeth by it) and whatever designe he had, never to return to seek out the fair unknown one, his feet maugre himself, bare him always towards the place where he had met her. Hee returned often from thence, not knowing why he would not willingly go thither, nor why he went thither, not having any thought of so doing. But at last yeelding to his curiosity, he retur­ned towards those Rocks, resolving to suffer himself to be guided by fortune; leaving always his servant and his horse where he left them the first time.

He wandred then long amongst those Mountains, when being weary, he sate himself down, which he had hardly done, upon a neighbouring Rock, when hee might discover afar off a little Cottage, in a place which appeared very savage unto him: so as rising up, it may be, said he unto himself, 'tis here where the Gods have hidden the Treasure, which I seek for. And indeed he had not walked far, when he saw the fair unknown one, ac­companied [Page 32] by the same old man, and the same woman which he had formerly seen, and by three or four others all meanly clothed, which seemed to take a by-way which led to a little Temple, which lies towards the Sea side, and which was built for the accommodation of stran­gers, who traffique in that Island, and land on that side. The Temple not be­ing above six furlongs from this little ru­ral habitation, 'twas but a walk to go thi­ther on foot.

Philoxypes ravisht at this encounter, went towards them; and addressing his speech to the old man, after having sa­luted, and looked on the fair unknown, with more admiration then at first; Fa­ther, said he, know you who they be that live in that little house which I see yon­der amongst the Rocks? Sir, said he, they are people who merit not the honor you do them in speaking to them; nor doe I know how my Cabbin should cause curiosity in a man of your condition.

Whilest the old man spoke, Philoxypes had his eyes fixt upon the fair unknown one so attentively, as he made her blush, and forced her to turn her head aside; [Page 33] he willingly would have spoken to her, but that (as he told me afterward) hee was affraid to ruine himself in so plea­sing an inchantment; and that he should finde as much rudenesse in her conversa­tion, as she had sweetnesse in her eyes; to boot, that he saw her to be so modest, as he easily imagined she would not speak long unto him in her parents presence, (for he perceived she behaved her self as if she were the old mans daughter) hee enquired also of the good old man, if he went oft to that Temple? whether his abode there had been long? whether he were of Cyprus, or no? whether that were his whole family? and a hundred other things to continue the conversati­on. To all which, though the other an­swered exactly, Philoxypes did hardly hear any thing he said; & thus they parted, af­ter he had tane his leave of them all, hardly knowing what he said.

Not having learnt any thing, but that he had once more seen the fair unknown one, that she was much more lovely then he had thought her to be, that he knew her abode, and the Temple whether she sometimes went. He pursued her with [Page 34] his eyes as far as he could; but at last be­ing ashamed of what he did, and seeking a reason for it, he returned back the same way, and went into his Gallery, it being the only place in all his house, wherein he pleased himself. When he was come thereinto, he began to walk with more disquiet then he had wont to be acquain­ted withall. And far from his former design of bringing the fair unknown one to the Court, he did as far as in him lay, put on a resolution of never seeing her more himself: so much was he affected with this second sight.

To this purpose, he went forthwith out of his Gallery, got on horse-back, and returned to Paphos; the King who loved him dearly, and who had as much of friendship for him, as of love for the Princesse Aretephile, complained of his so long abode in the Countrey, and made as much of him as could be. He imme­diately entreated him to visit the Prin­cesse Aretephile, because there had been some little quarrel between them, which he acquainted him withall, making the most he could of it.

Phyloxypes obeys him, visits the Prin­cesse, [Page 35] and makes them friends: but let him do what he pleaseth, or go whither he will, his thoughts are still busied about the fair unknown one; he compares her with all the beauties that he sees, and whether he behold Aretephile, Thimoclea, Agharista, or whosoever else, he can see none but his sister, the fair Princesse of Salamis, who comes any way neer her for beauty; but he preferred the other a thousand times before her, as being a thousand times more beautiful, then whatsoever the world hath of beauty. Two days after he returned to Claria, and the next day he went to the aforesaid lit­tle Temple, whether those that were of the Island went seldome or never, it being only built for strangers.

And this was the reason wherefore the beauty of the fair unknown one, had not been noised abroad, neither in Apid, which is not far from thence, nor in Soly which is very neer it, nor in Claria, which joyns upon it. Phyloxypes, then maugre himself, went thither, whether he was no sooner come, but he saw the fair maid still accompanied with the same compa­ny, who devoutly prayed to the God­desse [Page 36] that is there adored. In fine, Sir, to keep that no longer from you, which Philoxypes had much adoe to acknowledg to himself, this last sight fully conquered him; for the sacrifice being somewhat long, love had time enough to fasten him with his chains not to be untyed. You may believe it had been easie for Philoxy­pes to have spoken to this maid, as shee came out of the Temple, and to have followed her home, if he had pleased; but though love had already gotten the upper hand in his heart, yet had it not driven out shame from thence. And Philoxypes did me the honour to tell mee afterwards, that he was so ashamed of his own weaknesse, and of the meanness of this maids condition as he sometimes wisht to be dead.

This little assembly being gone, and he being returned home strangely perplext, what said he to himself, is it possible that Philoxypes, that unflexible Philoxypes, who could never be wrought upon by all the fair Ladies of Cyprus, should be in love with one born in a Cottage, bred up a­mongst Rocks, and savage people? Ah, no, no: it cannot be. I would rather rip [Page 37] out my heart, then suffer it any longer to retain so mean, and so unworthy an affection. But (said he presently after­wards) there is somewhat of Divinity in Supream beauty, which is not to be re­sisted. And if this unknown one be more fair then all the Princes of the world, she better deserves the love of the inflexible Philoxypes, then all they do. Yet I am sure, said he, when the wise Solon told me, That a man might without shame be once in his life time overcome by love; he understood it not to be by the love of a shepherdess, as doubtlesly she is—at these words not having power to end his speech and say, Whom I love; shame stopt his mouth, and for a while he said nothing.

Then suddenly re-assuming his speech, No, no, said he, Solon would not approve the folly which possesseth me: For in fine, to love a person so beneath ones self, a person, whose name one is affraid to ask; one to whom one hath never spo­ken, and to whom I dare not speak, for fear of finding her mind unworthy of her beauty, one who peradventure will not understand my language, who peradven­ture hath neither vertue nor goodnesse, [Page 38] and whom the Gods have endowed with extraordinary beauty, only for my confu­sion, and to make mee despaire; once more it cannot, it must not be; so dread­ful an evil must be early withstood; and as there are some venomes whose mis­chief is only cured by themselves, the fair unknown one must cure me of the malady she hath caused in me.

I must once more see her, and speak to her, to the end that the blemishes of her minde, and her rude conversation, may drive that beauty from out my heart, which her charming beauty and pleasing eyes hath placed there. But good Gods, replyed he unto himself, is it possible so fair a personage should have any de­faults? Think Philoxypes what thou wilt do; and fear lest whilst you think to finde a cure for your evil, you render in incurable.

Thus Philoxypes reasoned with himself, who in effect resolved to go the next day to the Cottage, where the fair unknown one dwelt, with intention to speak unto her, and so to cure himself, imagining that his shame to see himself in that Cot­tage, and the maids grosse conversation, [Page 39] would infallibly salve his passion. But he knew not that 'tis an usuall effect of love to make those who are in love, make use of all pretences, whereby they may come near those whom they love, not knowing themselves why they goe thither.

Philoxypes failed not then to goe the next day towards the rocks, at foot wher­of according to his custome he left his servants: But as he went he was much disquieted; sometimes hee wisht this young maid might neither have wit nor attraction; and by and by, desired again he might meet with nothing in her which might detract from her beauty. In fine, not knowing whether he desired to be sick or cured, whether he would be free or a captive, and not knowing also under what pretence to make this odd visit, he marcht on till he came to a little Valley, seated between Rocks, stoln as it were from the world, and very fit, to say the truth, to hide so infinite a precious trea­sure. At the foot of this little Valley, there lies a pleasant Meadow; and upon the side of these Rocks, a little Wood of Myrtle '& wild Pomegranats, interming­led [Page 40] with some Orange Trees. At the bottome of this Wood, there stands a little House very low built, but in indif­ferent good repair: As Philoxypes drew neer it, his troubles re-doubled, and hee was almost tempted to turn back, so asha­med was he of his weakness. But at last being forced on by love, he entred into the fore-Court of this house, closed in with Lawrels no higher then ones elbow, which are very common in this Island. At last, seeing a door open, he came into a little Chamber, decently, though but meanly furnished; in which, he found the fair unknown one, and two other women who made Garlands of flowers, intending to carry them the next day to the Temple, and give them to the Priest who lived there, to adorn the Victime, which was to be offered, there in sacrifice. You may imagin, how much astonished this young maid might be, to see such a one as Philoxypes enter her Cabin, who is always richly clothed, and who as you know, is of a very stately behaviour; she no sooner saw him, but rising up in haste she let all her flowers fall, thereby affor­ding Philoxypes occasion of commencing [Page 41] conversation, who stooped down to ga­ther up the faln flowers: Sir, said she, endeavouring to hinder him, pray trou­ble not your self, for our Woods and Meadows abound in the like, so as I may easily repair this losse, if these were spoi­led. Those which your Woods and Fields produce, said he, are not of such worth as these, which I restore you, be­cause they have not been gathered by so fair a maid as you. Sir, said she, blush­ing, the Goddess to whom I intend to offer them, will look more upon the in­tention of my heart, then upon my face, which certainly hath nothing in it, which may occasion you to speak as you do. But Sir, said she, (not giving him leave to in­terrupt her, to the end she might change the discourse) you have perhaps some­what to command my Father, who will bee very much troubled that hee is not here, that he might have the glory to o­bey you: but he is gone forth with my Mother, and will not return till night.

Philoxypes hearing her speak with so much judgement, and such civility, hee having at most expected nothing but in­nocency, and simplicity in her conversa­tion, [Page 42] had hardly the power to answer her. He beheld her with admiration, and listened to her with astonishment; he observed a decent negligence in her apparel, and her tone of speech so exces­sively charming, as he was ravisht; shee spoke not only Greek, but with all the Atique purity, and Courtly smoothness; her action was moreover infinitely beco­ming, having nothing in it, neither of af­fected, nor yet of Clownish. He found such modesty in her looks, and so lovely a freshness in her complexion, as he had hardly liberty to reply; yet after some strivings within himself, 'tis true, faire maid, said he, I had somewhat to say unto your Father, but till such time as I shall see him, give me leave to ask you why he makes choice of so solitary an abode. Sir, said she, such is my respect unto him, as I never informed my self of what you desire to know; but I have sometimes thought that this place is not of his choice, and that he lives here, only to fit his minde unto his fortune, which not having destin'd him a Palace, hinders him not from thinking himself happy in his Cottage.

[Page 43] But is it possible, said he, that this au­stere solitariness should not seem tedious to you? Sir! (replyed she with a mo­dest smile) you will doubtlesly think me very rustick and savage, when I shal dare to say, that the only trouble I have met withall amidst these Rocks, since I have lived here, is that wherewith I am now possest, to see you in a place, where I use not to see any one; and where cer­tainly I would not see you, were I in a condition to do otherwise; it not appea­ring seemly to me, that one of your con­dition, should busie himself in talking so long with such an one as I am. I should be very unhappy, said Philoxypes, if I should have offended you, or have ap­peared too importunate: but lovely per­sonage, tell me I beseech you, your name, and your Parents name, and tell me what God or Goddess tis that comes to instruct you in these Woods? Sir! said she, my name is Policrite, my Father is called Cle­anthes, and my Mother Megisto; but as for those Gods which you say doe teach me, they have as yet taught me so little, as I am ignorant even of civility: to wit­nes which, I shall take the boldness to say, [Page 44] that since those on whom I depend are not here, I shall desire you not to take it ill, if I intreat you not to tarry any lon­ger in a place, wherein you will finde more of incommodity, then content. I shall not alter my minde, replyed Philoxy­pes for what you say, but must once more affirm, that doubtlesly the Gods have in a moment inspired you, with what others have much adoe to learn in their whole lives. For that you should be the fairest maid in all the world, and fairer in a Cottage, then Queens are in their Palaces; though this be very much, yet is it not impossible, but that living a­mongst Woods and Rocks, you should behave your self, and speak as you doe, 'tis this, fair Philocrita, that I cannot com­prehend; nor can I imagin that you were born here amongst these savage Rocks; 'Tis true, Sir! said she, I am not of this Island by birth; but was so young when I parted from Creta, as I hardly remem­ber any thing thereof. Tis true, the con­versation which I have here, cannot have given me the accent of the Countrey, for I speak with none but those of this fami­ly, who are no more of Cyprus then I.

[Page 45] What, Policrite, said Philoxypes, do you spend your whole time without speaking, and yet speak as you do? Once more, this Cottage is unworthy of you; and some means must be found out to draw you hence. I am so well contented here, Sir, said she, as I should thereby receive an injury; and I imagine you have no such design; therefore I conjure you to leave me in that solitariness that you found me; for neither will I say much more unto you, not being able to speak any thing of mine own experience.

Philoxypes, who observed that this yong maid was indeed troubled to see him tar­ry so long with her, though it were in no dis-obliging manner, was loth to anger her; so as with much violence used upon himself, after having saluted her with such reverence, as if she had been upon a Throne, he offered to be gone. But, Sir, said she, with much candour, you know my name is Policrite, and I cannot tell my Father what his name is, that hath done him the honour to enquire after him. You may tell him, replyed this Prince, transported with love, my name is Philoxypes. Alas, Sir! answered Phi­locrita, [Page 46] I beg your pardon, if I have not used you with such respect as I ought. Is not then, said he, my name unknown unto you? No, Sir, said she, and I have heard my Father, though he knows you not himself, say such things of you by the re­port of others, as I am sure will make him rejoyce exceedingly, when he shall know that you will do him the favour to command him any service. Philoxypes, inchanted to hear Policrite speak in such sort, said unto her a thousand passionate and obliging things, if she would have understood them; to which she still re­plyed with such readiness and modesty, as he still became in love with her more and more.

He then took his leave of her, and de­parted from this Cottage, with an uncon­ceivable sorrow, being come to the same place where he first saw her, he stayed; and beholding on the one side his goodly and magnificent Palace of Claria, and on the other side this little Countrey Cot­tage: Ah, Philoxypes, cryed he, who would believe, that in the condition thy soul is in, thou canst prefer this unlucky Cottage before that stately Palace? and [Page 47] that thy heart so insensible of love, and so ambitious of true glory, can abase it self before Policrite's feet? But then, said he again, is it possible that Philoxypes should love any thing which is not the handso­mest thing in the world? And if it bee so, Policrite ought to be the object of his desires and love. I say, Policrite, in whose looks is no art, whose words are sincere, all whose thoughts are innocent, who knows not what a sin is, whose heart is not prepossest with any passion, who as yet loves nothing but the Woods, Fields, Flowers, and Fountains; who is hardly conscious of her own beauty, and whose inclinations are doubtlesly all vertuous. But when all is done, said he, after a little pause, love is a weakness, from whence I have till now defended my self, onely because I did verily believe, that it was handsome not to be capable thereof; but to love a personage of so unequal birth, is a folly, which I ought by all means to withstand. For in fine, with what face shall I dare to appear at Court? How fair soever Policrite bee, I dare not shew the irons shee makes me wear; they must either be broken by force, or [Page 48] so cunningly conceald, as no man may e­ver discern them.

With this resolution did Philoxypes re­turn home, and from thence to Pa­phos; but he was so possest with melan­choly, as hee was forced to fain himself sick. The King, who saw him that very night, both with himself, and with the Princess Aretephile, perceived his per­plexity, and pressed him to know the cause: But Philoxypes answered him as he had done the rest. The Court was very great that day, and all that was gal­lant, was there; which occasioned Phi­loxypes in his ravings, to inquire of himself an hundred and an hundred times, why, since he was to love, it was not some of those illustrious personages? Yet though he would use violence upon himself, and endevor to love by reason, he could ne­ver cōpass it. And Policrite's image was so deeply imprinted in his heart, as nothing could eface it. He passed over 3 days thus with very much disquiet, and on the 4 ^th maugre himself, he returned to Claria, and from thence to Cleanthes, whom at his first approach, he found leaning upon that little Pallisado of Lawrels, which in­compassed [Page 49] his Court. As soon as this wise Old man saw him, he stept unto him, and received him with such Civility as had nothing of Rustick in it. Sir, said he, I thought my Daughter had been deceived when she told me your Name, which kept me from coming to Claria to receive your Commands; to boot, that 'tis hard to imagine, that a Man of my Fortune and Age may be any wayes serviceable to such a Prince as you. Vertue and worth, said Philoxypes, makes friends unto it self of all Ages, and of all Conditions. But Cleanthes the only thing I desire to know of you, is whether it be out of necessity, or out of choice, that you inhabit this little House? for, if it be the former, you shall not tarry long here; and if the latter, I will come and live with you sometimes; at which Cleanthes smiled, and said, Poor Cottages, Sir, are no proper abodes for great Prin­ces. 'Tis very true, said Philoxypes, nei­ther ought great Worth to be confin'd to little Cottages, but doth much better be­come great Palaces: I therefore proffer you my House Claria, where you and your Family may live more commodiously then here. Sir, replyed Cleanthes, 'tis [Page 50] handsome for a personage of your condi­tion and worth to be willing to relieve the distrested, but it were not just to abuse that Goodness, which may be better em­ploy'd on some better occasion. For, in fine, Sir, I suffer no want in this Cottage, my minde being no greater then it; I here live in quiet; and finding in this little corner of the earth sufficient to keep me from being troublesome to any body, I live here much more happily then those who live in Palaces, and whose desires are not therein bounded. But wise Cleanthes, said Philoxypes, will you not tell me what Fortune 'tis that hath brought you hither, and acquaint me precisely with your con­dition? Sir, said the good Old man, I am descended of honest Parents, of an indif­ferent Fortune; for mine, you see it is mean enough, and I assure you my worth is not extraordinary. I was forc't to foregoe my Country, for many reasons, too long now to tell, and to seek out a place of Retirement in this Island, where I have lived a good while; but said Phi­loxypes, are you not affraid lest Policrite, who may justly be termed a Treasure, may not be safe in such a place as this? [Page 51] if I should grant, answered Cleanthes, that Policrite should be what you say, since this Treasure is only known by Prince Philoxy­pes, I should think it safe enough; you have reason, Father, said he, for what you say, for I engage my self to protect you, against what, or whosoever shall go about to injure you. After this Cleanthes led him into his House, where he found Me­gisto, Cleanthes wife, who received him so Civily, as he easily discern'd that there was nothing of Rustick nor savage in this family. Shee had by her young Policrite, and another Maid handsome enough, whom Policrite called Sister, and whose name is Dorida: But, good Gods, how fair did Policrite appear to Philoxypes that day? Her Hair which hung carelesly over her Neck, and which were the one half covered by a thin Tiffany, were ty'd back behinde her head, with a Garland of O­range and Pomegranate flowers, over which hung a thin Veile, with which shee covered her Face when she went in the Sun, and which very well became her Dressing: The rest of her Apparel was white, of a handsome shape; her Sleeves, which were very large, were trust back [Page 52] with Ribbonds of severall colours; and rhough there was nothing of stately in this habit; and that instead of Pearles and Diamonds, shee was only deck'd with flowrs, yet was there somwhat of so hand­som and so comely in her Dressing, as she never appear'd so fair to Philoxypes, the more he saw her, the more he was in love with her; and were it that he entertained Cleanthes, that he spoke to Megisto, that he addrest himself to Policrite, or that he said somewhat of civility to Dorida, he was still more and more taken. What did he not doe to make them tell him somewhat more then Cleanthes had told him, and to perswade them that he might fit them with a better Lodging? He offer'd Cle­anthes Jewels to dispose of at his pleasure; but let him doe what he could, he could learn nothing, nor obtain nothing, save on­ly leav to come and visit them sometimes, which they granted him, meerly because they knew not how to deny it him. I will not stay to tell you how frequently Phi­loxypes returned thither during twelve Dayes space which he staid at Claria, without returning to Paphos; but I will tell you, that Cleanthes, who had under­standing [Page 53] enough, and Megisto who wan­ted not any, easily perceived that it was Policrite's beauty which occasioned this Prince his so frequent Visits, he read her a long Lesson, and wisht her to have a care of her self, and that she should consider that Philoxypes his affection could not but redound to her prejudice: and that ther­fore she should live with him, as with one whom she should never look upon but meerly with respect, not suffering him to engage her in any particular affection. This mean while Philoxypes, who percei­ved he should never have the Freedome to speak to Policrite in particular, unlesse it were by chance, came so often thither, as he met her once unaccompanied by any save the young Dorida. This being too fair an occasion to let slip, he drew near unto her, and expressing much Love in his looks, Think not, Policrite, said he, that I have any thing of mis-becoming to say unto you, though I have diligently watched to entertain you alone; 'Tis only that not knowing how you will re­ceive my affection, I was not desirous to have any witnesses of my misfortune or happiness. Sir, said she, with a Maidenly-blush, [Page 54] before you speak, consider I be­seech you where you are; mark well the Cottage wherein I live, and see what Cloaths I wear. No, Policrite, reply'd he, I see nothing but your Eyes, and had you a Crown of Diamonds on your head, I should no more minde it then what you speak of; so firmly are my lookes fixt upon your Beauty. Permit me then, Sir, said the discreet and fair Maid, to teach you another thing, which it may be you are ignorant of, and which ought to keep you from saying any thing of unfit­ting to me. 'Tis, Sir, that this very Poli­crite, whom you see in this Country Cot­tage, who is thus simply attir'd, who is only known to these Woods and Rocks, hath notwithstanding her meannesse and simplicity, so tender a sense of Honour, that should you offend her never so little therein, she were able to dye for sorrow and dislike. Be carefull then, Sir, to say nothing which may make Policrite beleev, that you know her not; for, in fine, she hath such a passion for Vertue, as she should have much adoe not to hate those who should say any thing unto her in op­position thereunto. Fear not, said he, [Page 55] fairest Policrite, that I shall say any thing to you, which shall offend you, at least which should offend you; for I protest unto you in the presence of the gods, who hear me, that the passion which you have for flowers, fountains, and for these inameld fields, is not more pure, nor more inno­cent, then that which I have for Philocrita; and if there be any difference between them, 'tis that the affection which I bear to her, is so violent and strong, as there is nothing which I shall not willingly un­dertake to witness it unto her: You can­not better do it, Sir, said she, then in do­ing me the favour to say no more such things unto me, which will onely serve to trouble the quiet of my life, since if I should not believe you, I should certain­ly be somewhat troubled to think you would laugh at my simplicity; and if I should believe you, I should almost di­spair, for being the cause why a great Prince should contract a passion so un­worthy of him, and from whence he can never reap any advantage.

For in fine Policrite knowing her self, and knowing you also, would not her self commit a fault, nor yet cause you com­mit [Page 56] one for love of her; do not therefore ingage your self Sir, in so angersom an ad­venture: Let me alone (said shee, looking upon him with an eie, which did rather detain him then drive him away, though it were done without art) let me alone I say, amongst our woods and rocks, and get you to your palaces where you will be much better then here. Philoxypes was astonished to hear Policrite speak thus, when throwing himself at her feet, no, no divine Policrite said he, you are not what you appear to be; and though you were so, yet would your vertue place you in a degree above all the Queens in the world. Sir said shee, raising him up, think not that I am to be wonn by flatte­ries; for though I know not the world by mine own experience, I know it by my Parents relation. I therefore know that love is a dangerous passion, and not knowing precisely what it is, I know it ought to be avoided; and that I ought rather to apprehend that love which you say you bear me, then any other. And wherefore, Policrite said he, do you thus treat that innocent passion, which you raised in my heart? because said she, it [Page 57] cannot be but injurious to Philoxypes, or to Policrite. but say for God's sake said he, suppose that Policrite were a Princess, or that Philoxypes were of the same condition that Policrite is; what would you then think of him? I cannot tell said shee, but this I know sir, that though I should e­steem him never so much, nay, though I should love him very much, Cleanthes and Megisto should alwaies absolutely di­spose of me. Say then said he, if they should be favourable, would you with­out any repugnancy obey them? Sir said shee, smiling a little, I have been so told that I must not lightly trust any one, as I think it not convenient to reveal so great a secret to you. Hereupon Cleanthes and Megisto returned, and broke off their di­scourse; Philoxypes presently observed that these two persons were troubled at his visits; he therefore resolved not to be so frequent in them, least he might for e­ver lose a happiness, which now he might sometimes enjoy. Thus, Sir, Philoxypes after some short discourse departed, and returned not onely to Claria, but to Pa­phos, whether the King had also sent for him; not being able to let him be so long [Page 58] alone and solitary, all the Ladies, and the whole Court complained of him, and could not comprehend the reason of his so long retirement; The King continued to give him new testimonies of his af­fection, by bestowing on him the govern­ment of Cithera, which was falne void by the death of the former governor. He acquainted him with what had befalne him during his absence, with Princess Aretephile, and conjur'd him to speak al­waies to her in his behalf. For said he, Aretephile hath taken a phancy to be sure of the Crown of Cyprus, before she give me her heart, and I will have her give me her heart, before I give her the Crown. Philoxypes promised the King to speak to Aretephile, but it was with such sadness as all the Court took notice of it. He did almost always little better then rave, he would mistake, and say one thing for another, he shunn'd company, and as soon as he could, he returned to Claria. He found more resistancy in Policrite, then he thought to have met withall; for she, fea­ring all things, durst hardly look upon this Prince; the difference of his condi­tion, though it made her more obliged [Page 59] unto him in her soul, yet was it the rea­son why shee treated him so coolly. Phi­loxypes would have presented the whole Family, but they all refused to receive any. This mean while he was stil more unhappie; for though he loved Policrita passionately, and that he valued her more then all the world besides, yet could he never put on a resolution of making any one acquainted with this his so mean­ly placed passion: He would certainly have been able to live with Policrita in any desert Island; but he knew not how he could avow the marrying a Maid of her condition, to the world; yet did he still love her with a respectfull affection, not giving way to any sinfull desire: That pure and unartificial vertue which he saw in Policrita, infused into him a grea­ter respect for her, then if shee had been seated on a Throne; he then perceiv'd he loved, without hope of ever finding a remedy for his evil, upon lesser tearms, then resolving to abandon the Court, and Kingdom, and to ask Policrita of Cleanthes upon so vexatious tearms; but that which most of all afflicted him was, that he knew not how he stood in Policrita's affection; [Page 60] he found her milde and civil, he observes no marks of hatred in her countenance; but there was therein also so great a re­servedness, and so exact a modesty, as he could not penetrate her thoughts: He thought also, that Policrita was grown somewhat more melancholly then shee had formerly been, and indeed he was not mistaken, for Philoxypes his handsom­ness, his good behaviour, his wit, and civility, being things not to be seen with­out likeing; young Policrita could not see her self belov'd of such a Prince as he, without having her heart a little toucht with acknowledgement; yet seeing her self in a condition so farre beneath his, and out of a sence of vertue shee must re­sist this budding affection, she could not but be afflicted at this conquest which shee had made; and to bemoan her self thereof to her dear Dorida who had wit enough. Sister! said she unto her, how happie are you in comparison of me, who can take pleasure in walking abroad, in gathering of Flowers, in hearing birds sing, and the fall of waters, and in not being reduced to a condition of complai­ning of too much good fortune: For in [Page 61] fine Dorida, Philoxypes heart is a conquest which I am sure the greatest Queens would be proud to have made; yet whilst they might innocently rejoice thereat, I must be therewithall afflicted: I could wish I had never seen him; or at least I think I could: For when all is done, though methinks I could heartily desire that he would love me no more, yet am I glad to see him. But if love, repli'd Dorida, be so powerfull a thing as it is said to be, how know you but that Phi­loxypes may love you well enough to mar­ry you? Ah Sister, answered she, as I would do nothing misbeseeming me, so neither would I that Philoxypes should do any thing that might misbeseem him to do: But, said Dorida, by like then you love Philoxypes, since you interest your self in his honour, against your self. Poli­crita blusht at this discourse, and looking confusedly upon Dorida, if you were better acquainted with this passion then I, said she, I would tell you whatsoever my soul is sensible of, to the end I might know what to think of it; But I cannot yet believe that this dangerous disease be yet got into my heart; for if you remem­ber well, we have heard Cleanthes say, and [Page 62] we have read it more then once, that love makes one lose their reason; that it caus­eth a thousand pains, and vexations, that it sometimes makes people do amiss; and I thank heaven, I do not yet feel any of all this; me thinks my reason is free e­nough, and I am well enough pleased with the melancholly which possesseth me: For tis true, I oft times talk I know not what, but I delight in doing so; and though I would not love Philoxypes, yet there are certain moments wherein I am well enough pleased that he should love me: But as for any thing of fault, so farre am I from being willing to commit any, as I protest unto you, that were it for no other reason, then not to lose Philoxypes his esteem and good opinion, I would die a thousand deaths rather then do any thing that should be unjust. You may then believe, that whilst I love vertue, and would become worthy the affection of so great a Prince, I will never do any thing contrary to reputation. I believe you, answered Dorida; but for all this Si­ster mine, you deceive your self, if you believe you love not Philoxypes: For in a word, you do not love what you lov'd [Page 63] before you knew him, you are somewhat more comely, you consult oftner with the Christall fountains, and you are quite another thing then you were. Ah Sister, replied Policrite, if that were true which you say, I would quickly take order for it, I would never see Philoxypes, but to use him harshly; to the end, that he ha­ting me, I might no longer love him. These two young people having entertained themselves thus upon the bank of a lit­tle rivelet, Cleanthes and Megisto, who had altered their minds, came thither; and bidding Dorida withdraw a little; Megisto began to say; Policrite! it is not many days since I told you, that in respect of your condition, you should never look upon Philoxypes, but with a great deal of respect; but fearing lest through that inequality which you may believe to be between you and him, you may not ap­pear to be so much obliged to him for his affection, as indeed to put somewhat too great an estimation thereupon: Clean­thes and my self have resolved to tell you, that your true condition considered, you are not bound to behold Philoxypes at any time, but with a great deal of indiffe­rency: [Page 64] For in a word, said Cheanthes, not to disguise the truth from you any longer, you are what you think not your self to be, and we are likewise that which you know not, and what you shall not as yet know; because the Gods have not per­mitted us as yet to let you know it: But to shew you how much you are more ob­liged then you think for, to be vertuous, know Policrite that you are of as Noble blood as any is in all Greece: And how answered Policrite, interupting him, am I not what I alwaies thought to be? No daughter said he; to number Kings amongst your Ancestors, is not the greatest mark of honour that you make boast of. There is somewhat of more August in your race, then what I speak of: Therefore that I might raise up your heart, I thought it good to trust you with this important secret, (which I charge you not to reveal to any one) as al­so to let you know the better how much bound you are not to doe any thing un­worthy of your Fathers house, nor of the condition you are born in. Policrite was exceedingly joy'd to hear Cleanthes speak after this manner, though her joy was [Page 65] not over quiet; for shee was in trouble to know more precisely what was told her. Father said shee, leave me not in such perplexity; tell me a little more plainly, I beseech you, so pleasing a truth, and let me know who I am.

The Gods have forbidden us it, my daughter, answered he, by the mouth of an Oracle: you must be content with what you have heard: but make use thereof to defend your self against Philox­ypes love; and far from looking on him, as on a Prince who hath don you too much honour: look rather on him, as on one whom you shall favour by your per­mittance.

This is not, said Cleanthes, to deny, but that Philoxypes is indow'd with all the vir­tues and qualities requisite for a great Prince; but tis, my childe, to let you know, that there is a certain pride which doth not mis-become a young maide to defend her self thereby against love, when we have an esteem; for those that are above us, tis hard to gainsay, if they intreat. And on the contrary, when we believe them to be beneath us, or at least but our equals, we stand not much upon [Page 66] denying them unjust things. Policrite as­sured then Cleanthes and Megisto, That though shee had known nothing of what they now had told her, shee should never have done any thing contrary to that de­cency which shee had learnt of them. But how much were they mistaken, if their design were to hinder Policrite from lo­ving Philoxypes.

Sometimes shee was filled with joy, to know that she was of Noble descent; and afterwards, being willing to make use thereof; to drive thereby the begining of affection which Philoxypes worth had al­ready raised in her, out of her heart, shee found it the more fortified by this know­ledge. For said shee, the knowledge of what I am, doth not take from the obliga­tion which I ow him; since he knows not that I am any thing more then what I seem to be.

But for me, who now know what I am, why should I not hope that the Gods per­mitting Philoxypes to know my true condi­tition, may not so order it, as that I may love him and be blameless, and be belo­ved by him innocently? No, no, Policrite added shee, let us no longer defend our [Page 67] heart any longer with such opiniatrecie; let us content our selves with concealing our recentments, & do nothing that shall be faulty: & let us not reject, as a mischief the love of a Prince, to whom the wisest king of the world would not refuse to giv his daughter. But it may be, said she, that Philoxypes doth but counterfeit, that he hath sinful thoughts towards thee, and that thy simplicity abuseth thee.

Stay then, said she, to be resolved here­in, and make trial of his constancy and fi­delity, by an appearing indifferency, which may leave him without hope.

Thus was Policrite minded, when Phi­loxypes came to her; as soon as she saw, him she b [...]gan to go towards her Cottage; but he, advancing hastily, stayed her; yet not being above twenty paces from it, and there being two of her women-servants at work in a Close hard by them, she stayed. What, Policrite, said he, you shun a Prince, who shuns all the world for love of you? Sir, said she, (after somewhat more an imperious manner then before, though she intended not so to do) I do what peradventure you ought to doe: For in fine, what advan­tage [Page 68] can you hope for by your visits and solicitations? The contentment said he, to hear from your fair mouth, that you do not hate me: If that be all you de­sire to be satisfied in, replyed she, you may easily compasse your desires; but ask no more, upon pain of refusall. What, lovely Policrite, said he, will you never love me, and shall all I can do to win your affection, prove useless? no, 'tis impossible, were you as incensible, as those pictures which I have of you. My pictures, replyed Policrite? Yes, added Philoxypes, I am not so unfortunate as you think for; in despight of you, and without your consent, I have the con­tentment of seeing you daily.

Ah! said Policrite, I perceive Mandro­cles hath betrayed me, and hath falsified his word. Philoxypes askt her then, how she came to know Mandrocles? She told him how that famous Painter walking daily when his leisure would permit him, amongst those rocks to draw some lan­skips, had one day by chance light up­on their house: where, having seen her, he had begg'd leave of Cleanthes to draw her pict [...]re, which Cleanthes would have [Page 69] refused him, but that seeing his impor­tunity, he was afraid lest he might speak of her to him at Claria, and that there­fore he gave way unto his desire, upon condition that he should not make use of this picture, in any of his pieces, but as of a head made by fancy and imagina­tion, and making him take a solemn oath, never to speak with any body whosoe­ver, of any acquaintance he had with them. That since that time, as long as Mandrocles tarryed at Claria, he came to teach her to design, and had drawn her picture in twenty several postures. She then enquired of Philoxypes, whether Mandrocles had spoken to him of her, or no? And he told her the whole truth: but you may perceive, said Philoxypes, that the Goddess whom you represent, intends not that you should always be inhumane, since she would her self appear in your vizage.

Sir, said she, not being of your Isle, my devotion leads me rather to be a Vo­tress to Diana, then to worship Venus U­rania; therefore it is not this your reason that will prevail with me: to boot, that his Goddess approving only of such pas­sions [Page 70] as are innocent, will certainly ne­ver councel me to admit of yours. Ver­tues self, replyed Philoxypes, would ad­vise you to it; and did you know my heart, you would need no other Coun­cellor then your self. It would take up so much time, replied she, to make me know it, as I shall advise you not to un­dertake the work. But said he, if I do undertake it, and if I make it evident to you, that never man loved any thing as I love you, what will you then think? I would think, said she, that you were very unfortunate, in having so passio­nately loved one, who is unworthy of so much honor. But said he, would you think your self any waies obliged unto me? I should be sorrie for you, said she, and would wish your cure either by ab­sence, or by forgetfulnesse.

Ah! cruel maid, said he, wish it rather by your compassion and charity; and pro­mise me only that you will afford me lei­sure to perswade you, that I am the most in love of all men. To do as you say, said she, would be to be somewhat per­swaded thereunto already; therefore (and with this, she walked towards her Cot­tage) [Page 71] I will listen no longer to you. Af­ter this manner did Philoxypes pass away his time; having but very few moments of delight, amongst many howres of anguish.

This mean while, he could not endure to tarry at Paphos, and when he went thi­ther, all he could do, was only to visit the Princesse Aretephile, which the King compelled him to do; but he appeared so melancholly, and so changed, as he was hardly to be known. The King, who loved him dearly, was much afflicted to see it; he together with the whole court, sought what might be the occasion of this alteration; but they could not finde it. The King askt it of Philoxypes self, but could learn nothing. Philoxypes answe­ring alwaies, that it was some melancho­ly, which proceeded certainly from his temper, and from some little indispositi­on of health.

But said the King, solitariness is no u­sual cure for such incommodities; where­fore you ought not to go any more to Claria: Yet affairs went still on thus, yea even when Winter was come, which did the more astonish the whole Court; they [Page 72] knew he built no more at Claria, that the Painters and Engravers, who had been so long there, were all gone; that the season was foul; that when he went thi­ther, 'twas but with a small train; and that he walked alwaies alone: they saw a strange sadnesse in his face, and a won­derful alteration; and all this without any appearing cause. The King heaped favours and honours upon him; he askt him an hundred times, what he vvould desire of him: he had not any one ene­mie; the whole Court loved him; hee was exceeding rich; he appeared not to have any sicknesse, as the Physitians could perceive: In fine, his melancholie and retirednesse, were things which could not be guest at. The whole Court talkt of nothing else; and the King was strange­ly troubled at it; who, not knowing how to inform himself of what Philoxypes ail­ed, he bethought himself of me, whom he knew this Prince did love particular­ly, and in whom he did more confide, then in any other.

Thus upon a day, when Philoxypes was gone to Claria, the King sent for me; and after having assured his Majestie, (as it [Page 73] was true) that I knew nothing of parti­cular concerning this Prince his melan­choly, he did me the honour to command me to go to him, and to use all my cun­ning to discover what it was that was in his minde: For, said he, Leontidas, I doe so love Philoxypes, as I cannot live con­tent unlesse I see he do so likewise; and were it to give him half my Kingdom, I would doubtlesly do it, rather then not to give him satisfaction.

I then departed, reallie intending to endeavour to satisfie the Kings curiositie, who certainlie stood in need of Philoxy­pes presence, to counsel and comfort him concerning Aretephiles behaviour; for I think there was never known a stiffer combat between ambition and love.

I went then to Claria where I found Philoxypes in his usual melancholie; the which I made the greater, because I hin­dred him from going that daie to Clean­thes. At first sight of me, he endeavo­red notwithstanding, to inforce himself to honor me so much, as to seem glad to see me; but it was after a fashion, which made me easilie see that his heart gain­said his words; and that notwithstan­ding [Page 74] any friendship he had for me, he wisht I had tarried still at Paphos.

Leontidas! said he, I am much behol­ding to you for coming to visit me in a season, when the Countrie hath lost all its ornaments; and when the Court is fullest of diversions.

Sir, said I, you commend me with less reason, then the Court complains of you; for to forgo Paphos for Claria, when you are there, 'tis to forgo the Court, for the Court; nay, for the most plea­sing part of the Court: but to forgo Pa­phos, only to seek out solitarines at Claria, as you do, Oh, Sir, said I, (not suspect­ing him notwithstanding of any passion) 'tis all that a Prince in love, who is up­on bad tearms with his Mistresse, can do. Philoxypes blusht at these words, and looking upon me with a kind of smile, which did not, notwithstanding drive the melancholy from his countenance; I perceive, Leontidas, said he, I am not so much beholding to you, as I had thought, since doubtleslie you are come hither rather to chide me, then to visit me.

I am come, Sir, said I, to trie whe­ther [Page 75] I may not be able to serve you in a time when all the world believes that somewhat of great importance, which they cannot guess at, doth afflict you. Le­ontidas, said he, I am much bound to you, but I should be so more, if you could hin­der the Court from looking so far into my heart. For I confess said he, I finde it somewhat hard that a man may not look inwards sometimes, though whilst he does so, he is hardly master of his own minde.

Sir, said I, were you less beloved, you would not suffer under this persecution which you complain of: This kinde of Love replied he, causeth in me no small suffering: For what can I more rational­ly do, then to conceal my Melanchollie in a retiredness, to the end that I may not trouble the joy of others. But Sir, said I, tis the cause of this Melanchollie which every body seeks after, and none can finde: as for my particular, I must crave your pardon if I do. For Sir, tis not am­bition that torments you. No, Leontydas, said he, if I were sick of that disease, the King would quicklie cure me. Neither is it revenge, said I, for not being hated [Page 76] by any, it is not to be believed that you are possest with hatred. You have reason for what you say, said he; and sighing ad­ded, I think I am mine own greatest ene­mie. It is not said I again the passion which you have for books, for that passion may cause solitariness, but not such melancho­ly as you are possest withall. And more­over, you have had that passion a long time, without the product of so bad an ef­fect. It is not books certainly said he, which cause my trouble, which were I capable of reason, would rather be my comfort. It is not Love said I, that torments you, for you see none that can cause it in you. Conclude then, said he, taking me in his arms, that there is no more to be said, but that I hate my self, that I have lost my reason, and if my friends be wise, they will let me alone, and will leave the knowledge, or cure of my malladie, to the process of time.

Sir said I, shall Leontidas, who hath so particular an affection for you, be dealt withall as others are? shal he have known nothing more of your concernments, then do your enemies, if any such you have? Ah, Sir, said I, you must if you please do o­therwise: [Page 77] & to prove to you that Leontidas doth in som sort deserve you should do so, know Sir, that hitherto I have spoken un­to you as a spie, sent by the King, who will know at whatsoever prise, what tis that afflicts your minde. But after having boot­lesly acquitted my self of my Commission, I speak no longer Sir, as one sent by the King, but as one who is resolved to serve you with his life, if it shall be needfull; and never absolutely to give you over till he know the cause of your Melancholy: for Sir, if there be no cause of this Me­lancholy, and that it be but a distemper of humours, I must stay here, that I may endeavour, mauger your self, to divert you; and if there be any cause for it, Le­ontidas must likewise serve you therein, if there should redound no other benefit to you thereby, then to help you to keep it concealed from the King, and from the whole Court, if you desire it should be concealed from them.

I do not know any way, said he, to keep it undiscovered better, then to tell it to no body.

But Sir, said I, if you treat me with this indifferencie, when I shall return to Pa­phos, [Page 78] and the King shall ask me what I think of your Melancholie, I must needs say something to him.

And what will you say to him, replied Philoxypes? I think Sir, said I, that to re­venge my self for the little confidence you have in me, I will say what I do no waies believe, to wit, that you are in love; and that the shame of your former inflex­ableness, or of your new weakness, hin­ders you from avowing it: nay, I will per­adventure tel him, said I, in mockerie, that that Venus Urania, which people have so much quarrel'd with you about since the great feast which you made here, and which did precede but a few daies your melancholy humor hath struck you effect­ually in love. In fine sir, there is nothing of so odd, which I shall not say to revenge my self for the wrong you do the passion which I have to your service.

During this discourse; Philoxypes chan­ged colour twentie times; and were it out of friendship, or out of my importunitie, or that indeed those that are in love love naturallie to speak thereof, he took me by the hand, led me into his Cabinet, and after having made me take sundrie [Page 79] solemn Oaths, never to discover what he should say unto me; and all this with as much ceremonie, and pressure, as if he had some conspiracie to discover unto me against the state, or some attempt upon the Kings Person; he told me that he was in love.

What Sir, said I, these retirements, these Melanchollies, and this impenetra­ble secret, which all the world in vain seeks to finde out: is it onely that you are in Love? Ah, Leontydas, said he, mock not at my misery; for it is greater then you can imagine. But Sir, said I, I have much ado to imagine that you can be so unfortunate as you say, since I cannot conceive that there is e're a Princess in the Kingdom (except ambitious Arete­phile, who will be Queen) who will not favourably entertain your affection, when you shall make it known unto her. Alas! said he, with a sigh, Love hath dealt much more cruellie with me then you are aware of; and since I must discover unto you the secret of my heart, know that I have met with an invincible resistance, in one who lives amongst these rocks, and dwels but in a cottage.

[Page 80] Yes Leondidas, I have found a maid, or to say better, I have found virtue it self, wholely pure, and under the viseage of Venus Urania, which hath and doth yet resist me. A maid who is not touch'd with ambition; in whom beautie causeth no affectation nor pride; who hath simpli­citie and wit, gallantrie and sinceritie; and who in a sandie and desart place, which the Gods alone have pointed out unto me: speaks better then all the wittiest Ladies in the Court

But when all this is done, she lives in a Cottage, her condition appears to be ve­ry mean, if I consider all that is about her; and when I consider onely her self, or do but hear her speak, shee appears to be up­on a throne: Her Governours are virtu­ous, and discreet, but still Leontidas they live in a Cottage, and will not abandon it. At last said he with tears almost standing in his eies, I am the most unfortunate of all men: I have a passion which I cannot overcome, and which I will not have known: I too much respect Policrite's worth (for so is shee called of whom I speak) to have any sinful desire towards [Page 81] her, which though I should have, t'would be to no purpose: I likewise am too great a lover of Glorie, to resolve to marry a maid of this condition without much re­pugnancie,; Yet can I not live without her: my sufferings are such that I cannot express them, and seeing no remedie for my Malladie; I bear it patientlie with­out complaining of it, and void of all hope but death.

Phyloxypes told me this in so feeling a manner, as I much pittied him: He then told me all that had befallen him: How t'was he met Policrite, how he was surprized that it was shee by whom Man­drocles had drawn the Picture of Venus Ura­nia, and all the rest which I have told you. I was somewhat surprized at this fantast­ick passion, chieflie when I call'd to mind Philoxypes former inflexibleness; Yet did I endeavor to comfort him. Sir, said I, such a beauty as that is which you re­present unto me, and such a one as I have seen in the Venus in your Gallerie, bears some excuse with it, of what condition soever the possessors are, especiallie when it occasions onelie som passing pas­sions, and which are of no long durance, [Page 82] as I wil hope yours will prove. No, no, said he Leontydas, do not deceive your selves; I will love Polycrite till death. But Sir, not to abuse your patience, perceiving Philoxypes grievance too great to be cured I smoothed it, and sweetened it as much as possible I could. He then led me into his gallerie, to shew me his excuse, though I had seen his pictures many times before: we afterwards walked abroad, but he be­ing able onely to walk one way, we were soon amongst the Rocks, in a place from whence we might discover Policryte's ha­bitation, which we no sooner saw, but blushing with confusion, he said tis there my dear Leontydas where she that I adore doth live; tis underneath that roofe, which I prefer before the proudest Pala­ces, that Philoxypes findes some moments of content: and tis there in fine that all my joy and happiness is circumscribed. Sir said I, there needs no greater proofes of Polycrytes beautie, then the smalness of her Cottage; and whosoever shall ima­gine that Phyloxypes affection is placed therein, cannot doubt but that he hath ar­gued the matter with himself as much as he was able.

[Page 83] In fine, Sir, after that he had enlarged himself in expressing Policrytes charming beautie, not suffering me to see her for fear of offending her: I must think of re­turning to Paphos, for I had promised the King to return that very night. I asked Phyloxypes what I should say unto him; any thing said he my dear Leontydas rather then the truth of my adventure: For in the minde that I am of, I think that I should run mad if the King should know it.

I then left him after he had made me swear a hundred times, not to discover the least part of his misfortune. I went to finde out the King, who expected me with much impatiency, and who had pur­posely withdrawn himself early, to the end that I might speak with more free­dom to him when I should return.

And How, Leontydas, said he? what doth our solitarie companion do?

Sir said I, terming him as you do, your Majesty may easily guess at what he does. He muses, he walks, he reads; looks upon his pictures, and statues; goes from one place to another, and seeking ease every where, he findes it no where.

[Page 84] But Leontydas, said he, you speak to me as Philoxypes doth, and tis not that which I expect from you.

Sir, said I, I have done all I am able to satisfie your Majestie; but I confess my journey hath not been so successfull as I hoped for: For all that Philoxypes saies, is only that he findes himself somewhat ill disposed, and that he is possest with a Melancholy which he cannot master.

Did you ask him said the King, whe­ther it were not that he did wish for som­what which I have not be thought my self to give him, because I knew not that he did desire it?

Oh, Sir, said I, (thinking I had done well) it is not ambition that torments Philoxypes who is so satisfied with your Majesties goodness, as he desires nothing more then what he hath.

Have you then discovered, said he, that he hath any thing of private discontent a­gainst any one of this Court? For if it be so, I will make his interest mine, and will as severely revenge any injury done unto him, as if it had been done unto my self.

Sir, said I, Philoxypes appears to be so well beloved of all the world, as tis hard [Page 85] to think any one should injure him. I know not then what to imagine, said the King; but if Philoxypes's Ambition be sa­tisfied, and that it is not hatred nor re­venge that doth trouble him, he must needs be in Love.

Your Majestie, Sir, said I, doth too wel know Philoxypes's inflexibleness, to su­spect any such thing in him. No Leonty­das, said he, Philoxypes past obduretie, is not a Reason strong enough to perswade me that he is obdurat stil. I am almost con­fident that tis this passion which robs me of Philoxypes's companie; For in fine he hath all the marks of one in love. His countenance is altered, he not having been sick; he is melancholly without a­ny appearing cause: he doth little else but rave; he cannot stay long in a place; he conceals his melancholly from us; he cannot endure that one should take no­tice of it; he gives over thinking of his affairs; he visits none but by constraint, and unless it be the Princess Aretephile, whom he hath seen by my command, he hath not visited any one Ladie since we were at Claria.

Sir, said I, part of what you alleadge to [Page 86] prove that Philoxypes is in Love, me thinks makes for the contrarie: For if he were in Love, he would certainly seek out the partie beloved; we should never see him from her: instead of being me­lanchollie, he would studie to play the Gallant more, and would be the more so­ciable: and instead of seeking out solita­riness, as he doth, me thinks he should rather add to the Court diversions: and that his chiefest imployments should be musick, Baals, conversation, and going a­broad.

You say well, answered the King, for what concerns ordinarie passions, or such Lovers as have been fortunate in their af­fections; but there are certain giddie headed passions out of the common road, which arising from a melanchollie an­guish, feed themselves therewithall, and shun whatsoever affords delight. But that which doth a little trouble me, is that I cannot imagin who tis that Philoxy­pes can love, & be hardlie dealt withal by; for certainly there is never a Ladie in all my Court, who would not glorie in ha­ving wonn his heart: and moreover I have not observed that he hath ap­plied [Page 87] himself to converse with any one in particular, yet doubtleslie Philoxy­pes is in Love.

Sir, said I, be not so resolute in your as­sertion, till you have stronger proofes thereof, and till you may at least conject­ture who it is he is in love withall. The King began then to number over all the Ladies of the Court, one by one, & found not any one of them that he was likelie to be in Love withall.

He then began to walk not saying one word: soon after I saw some colour com in his face, and presently, me thought, he was much disquieted.

Leontydas, said he, you know more then you will tell me.

Sir, said I, I have said nothing but truth unto your Majestie. For in fine Phyloxy­pes his Ambition is satisfied; he hath no enemies that I know of; and if I be not deceived, the fairest Ladies of the Court have no great power over him.

Ah! Leontydas, said he, you conceal the truth from me; but I know it without your telling. Yes, Leontydas, said he, Philoxy­pes doth Love, and so love, as doubtleslie he is much afflicted thereat, and which he [Page 88] will withstand and overcome: were not my thought true, he would not make his passion so great a secret. But good Gods, said he, how unfortunate am I? and to what strange extremitie am I reduced; for in fine, Leontydas, said he, confess the truth, Phyloxypes, mauger himself, is be­come my rival, and his grief for it is the cause of his melanchollie.

Ah! Sir, said I, (not having leasure to think of what I said) I know not the cause of Philoxypes his melanchollie; but I very well know he is not in Love with Princess Aretephile, and that he too much respects your Majestie to suffer such a thought enter his brest.

Think well Leontydas, said he, on what you say: you assure me you know not the cause of Phyloxypes his melanchollie, and yet you know he is not my rivall: once more Leontydas, if you know the business, let me know it: or if you know it not; confess my suspitions are well grounded, and fear not for all this, that I wish any harm to Phyloxypes: on the contrarie I shal be beholden to him for it.

I was extreamly troubled to hear the King talk thus; for without violating [Page 89] what we hold most sacred, I could not re­veal Philoxypes his secret, which he had made me swear above a hundred times not to do.

To consent likewise that the King should suspect him to be his Rivall, me thought it was a business of too great im­portance to leave him in that opinion; but the more I perswaded him to the con­trarie, the more firmly did he believe it. No, said he, I am cause of mine own mis­fortune, and of Phylxoipes his misfortune too: tis I who made him visit Aretephile more then any other; tis mine own hand that hath enthrall'd him, and tis I who am the cause of all his sufferings: For said he, I easilie comprehend he seeks out all this solitariness onely to rid him of this passion: nay, I have observed that of late he hath been troubled as oft as I have spoken to him to speak to Aretephile, that he hath shun'd such Commissions as much as he could; and I am too much perswa­ded that he hath argued the business stifly with himself, and I am the onely cause of what he suffers.

Good gods, said he, how great is my misfortune? there is not any one man in [Page 90] all my Kingdom, whom I should not hate if he were my rival, unless it be he; and there is not any Ladie in the Court, in whose Love he would not have been hap­pie, except Aretaphile.

But Sir, said I again, I protest unto you he is not in love with her; and I protest to you, replied he, expressing an extream grief, that Philoxypes is my Rival; for were it not so, he would not conceal his passion from me.

The respect he bears to you, said I, ought to hinder him from so doing, if he were in Love.

No, no, replied he, you shall no longer abuse me; and I am equally perswaded of Philoxypes his love, of his innocencie, and of my misfortune. For in fine, that the man in the world that I love best, should fall in Love with the oneliest Ladie that I can Love: and that I should see my self cruelly necessitated, either to forsake A­retaphile, or to see Philoxypes die, it is an un­sufferable adventure.

Sir, I beseech you, said I, expect till she hath once more seen Phyloxypes, and have absolutelie commanded him to discover his heart unto her, before you resolve on [Page 91] any thing; and if you please I will bring him hither to morrow morning.

No, no, replied the King, you shall not stir out of the Pallace this day; nor shall you see Phyloxypes before me. In effect this Prince gave one of his servants charge over me; and commanded me to with­draw into a Chamber, which was appoin­ted for me in the Pallace.

'Twould be too difficult a thing to re­present unto you my vexation, and the Kings disquiet: since to tell you true, he had as much friendship for Philoxypes, as Love for Aretaphile.

Who ever saw, said he, (for he himself told it afterwards) an adventure like to mine? I have a Rival whom I must love in despight of me, and who gives me more occasion to love him, for the affe­ction he bears to my Mistress, then for all the service he ever did me; and then for all the good Offices he hath done me to her, it being certain that I need onely look upon him, to see what he suffers in my consideration; and that I need onely consider what life he leads, to see how much I am beholden to him. I observe in his eies a melancholly, which makes me [Page 92] apprehend his death: and I seein all his actions, visible signs of his love to Areta­phile, and of his respect to me. What shall I do, said he? shall I seem not to know this passion, and let Philoxypes die? But tis no longer time to conceal what I think, since Leontidas knows it. Leontidas who is so much his confident, and shares so deeply in his friendship: shall I also tel Philoxypes that I know his love, and not complain of him? and if I should com­plain, how weak a succor would this be? I should peradventure hasten his hour of death, by making him dispair. But shall I quit Aretaphile, and let my friendship ex­ceed my Love? Philoxypes his passion is unjust; but passions are not voluntarie, and he hath done what ever he could, or ought to have done, since not being able to keep from loving, he hath yet kept from making his love known; and hath rather chosen to hazard his life by his re­spectfull silence, then to preserve it by making his passion known, which he knows will displease me.

The King past the night in this manner very unquietly: sometimes he was agi­tated with anger, and hatred, not know­ing [Page 93] whom he hated, or on whom he de­sired to be revenged: sometimes he did a little blame Philoxypes, for not having at the very first acquainted him with his passion: sometime he betook himself to Aretaphiles beauty; but at last he blamed himself.

Then suddainly considering the pitti­full condition into which Phyloxypes was brought, and what an unhappy life he led, his heart was so touched with compassion as he did almost love his pretended Rival, better then his Mistress. He then called to minde, how that all the favours he had received from her, had been husbanded, and obtained by Phyloxipes his means. He past the next morning in like perplexitie, and strange irresolutions; at last having dined somewhat early, he went well ac­companied to lie that night at Claria, not affording me any opportunitie to give a­ny notice thereof to Philoxypes; for he into whose custodie I was given, thinking it had been for some business of another nature, treated me as a prisoner of the State and would not give me the least li­bertie.

The king commanded me to follow him, [Page 94] so as I came with him to Claria, he not ha­ving spoken one word all the way long, but musing still on his adventure: But when we were come thither, Phyloxipes's people told the King, that their Master was not at home; and that according to his custom, he was walked out all alone. The King informed himself carefully of one of his servants, who had a long time waited on him, whether he knew not the cause of his Masters melancholly: this servant who loved his Master dearly, that he might make use of the honour the King did him in speaking to him, said;

Sir, I know not what my master ayles, but this I know, that if your Majestie out of your goodness finde not some means to cure him of the Melancholly which possesseth him, he will certainly not live long; For he eats little, hardly sleeps at all, does nothing but sigh, cannot endure that one should speak to him about busines, wanders whole daies in the fields; and I once heard him cry out, when he little thought I did so. Good gods, what would the King say, if he saw how great my sadness is! and how hardly would he guess at the cause of my death?

In fine Sir, said this man, with tears al­most in his eyes, I know not what to say, but [Page 95] I am very certain your Majesty will lose the faithfullest of all your servants, if you lose the Prince my Master.

Whilest this man spake thus, I was strangely in pain; for I saw all that he said tended to confirm the King in his Opini­on: I was much the better for beckning unto him, he never looked on me, so in­tent was he to what he said.

The King on his part sighed, and having left the other, well, Leontidas, you will not have it that Philoxypes is in Love, nor that it is Aretaphile whom he loves? Sir, said I, I confess I am stil of that belief, and I would your Majesty could resolve to be so too.

O, Unfortunate Philoxypes cried the King! (not answering me) how sad is this distemper? and how unfortunat am I my self, that I cannot absolutely cure thee of the Malladie that possesseth thee. I would then have gone to finde out Phy­loxypes, that I might acquaint him with the Kings sense before he saw him, but the King would not suffer me: but ma­king the way be shewn unto him, which Philoxypes most usually went, we went di­rectly towards the head of Claria.

[Page 96] Philoxypes was this mean while gone to Cleanthes his house, where the face of af­fairs was a little altered; for Policrita-knowing that her condition was not what she believed it to be, Philoxypes his desert had made a further advancement in her heart then formerly: neither could she so well hide her affection, but that Cleanthes and Megisto were much to their grief aware thereof.

Yet was Philopyxes ne're a whit the more happie: for Policrite having tane a Fancie to make tryal of his affection by an appearing indifferency, did very care­fully conceal from him, the affection shee had for him.

And in truth that very day that the King came to Claria, where we mist of Phyloxypes, she had caused as much trouble in him, as admiration. For being gone to her, and having found her at the root of a a tree, where shee was designing out a corner of the countrey which pleased her, he began to entertain her with his passion, and to tell her how it grew still more violent upon him.

Sir, said she, if I may be permitted to do so, I should tell you, That if you desire [Page 97] to win my good esteem, you should do better to tell me, that your passion grows every day more moderate: for to tell you the truth, I do somewhat apprehend these extravagant passions, which I have heard spoken of, and which they say, does disorder reason, makes men lose the respect they ow to virtue, though it inha­bite in a Cottage, and which occasion a hundred strange things, the very hearing whereof causeth horror; Therefore, Sir, if you would oblige me, you will satisfie your self with telling me, you have affe­ction enough for me, to wish if it were possible that Fortune had been more pro­pitious to me, that I had been born of a higher condition then I am, or at least this not being so, I might rest content with my own condition, without envying o­thers.

To love you with indifferencie, said Philoxypes, (who acquainted me after­wards with this their conversation) your beautie should be indifferent, your virtue and discretion should be so also: in fine that inexpressable Charm, which I finde in every of your words, looks, and a­ctions, ought not to inchant me as it doth: [Page 98] But divine Policrite, apprehend nothing from the violence of my passion; for the stronger it is, the fuller of respect shall I be, and the more obedient to your will.

Sir, said She, if what you say be true, speak no more thereof I beseech you; for not comprehending that I may lawfully give you any part of my affection, mee thinks I ought intreat you to entertain me no longer with yours.

But Divine Policrita, said he, for whom do you reserve that Glorious affection, which you cruelly affirm I shall never en­joy?

At these words she blusht, and modest­ly bowing down her eyes, I reserve it said she, for our woods, fields, rocks, and foun­tains, whereof Sir, said shee, smilingly, I think you will not be jealous.

I shall not be jealous of them said hee, but I shall envy them, and I shall not easily endure that you should love things to my prejudice, which cannot love you again. But cruel maid, will you say nothing to me of more obliging? and forgoing the Court as J do for love of you, and re­nouncing what ever is in the world, ex­cept [Page 99] it be Policrite; is it possible you should not deal with me a little less se­verely? J do not desire you to love me, say onely that you are not sorry that J love you; and add if you please, that if J be not beloved, tis because you neither do nor will love any thing.

For what's to come, said Policrite, tis a thing to which J ought not to answer with such assurance; and as you knew not the day before J had the honour to be known unto you, that you should so oft for go your Pallaces to come to this Cot­tage wherein I live: how do I know whether the resolution which I now take of suffering no affection to enter my heart, will still continue? No, Sir, wee must not trust so absolutely in our selves; nor can I answer otherwise then for my present opinions.

Shew me then, replied he, what they really are; to the end I may know what to do.

Sir▪ said Policrite, having much e­steem, and much of respect for you, I must confess I should be sorry that you should love one long, whose condition were not answerable to yours, and that I [Page 100] could not receive a much greater displea­sure.

Philoxypes, who knew not the hidden sense of these words, answered, That su­pream beautie had in it, somewhat of Coelestiall, which did ennoble all those that were therewithall indued.

In my opinion said shee, a certain pro­portion is requisite in all things to occasi­on love, therefore do not deceive your self; and if I were at any time to love a­ny body, it should certainly be one of my own condition: nor should I ever resolve to marrie any one that were not so.

What Policrite! said Philoxypes, much afflicted, do you speak the truth?

Yes; Sir, said shee, and time will make you finde it so.

But Policrite, replied he, you remem­ber not that you are a miracle, and that there are no men of your condition a­mid'st these rocks, who deserve so much as to look upon you.

I will then love nothing, Sir, said shee, and so shee rose up, for shee saw Clean­thes and Megisto coming, who much trou­bled at this Prince his so frequent visits, especially, having observed what they [Page 101] thought they had done in Policrites beha­viour, desired him not to give himself the trouble to come so often thither.

Philoxypes, who was somewhat moved at those cruel words (as he understood them) which Policrite had uttered which made notwithstanding so much for him, could not with his accustomed moderati­on receive the discourse of Cleanthes and Megisto, but anger might easilie be seen in his face, and grief in his eyes.

Cleanthes, said he, since I come not hi­ther to rob you of the treasure which the Gods have given you, withstand not the satisfaction which I finde in admiring that virtue in Policrite which you have infused into her.

Sir, said Cleanthes, though I very well know your worth, I cannot but fear least Policrite who hath not yet lived long e­nough to know precisely what bounds to put to the respect she ows you, may be failing in something either to you, or to her self.

No, no, said Philoxypes, somewhat roundly, you need not fear what you say, you may rather fear least her severity and yours make me lose my reason. In [Page 102] fine this conversation, though full of re­spect to Policrite, was so passionate, as Cleanthes and Megisto were much troubled at it, and Policrites self was sufficiently disquieted thereat, and was sorry that she had spoken so despitefully to Philoxypes. But at last this Prince departed much dis­contented, and much in love: and as he returned back with intention to get on horse back where he had wont to leave his followers, he met the King who was lighted on foot, and on whom I had the honour to wait.

You may imagine how much he was surprised at this sight. As soon as he saw the King, striving as much as he could to hide his Melancholy, he mended his pace, and having done his obeysance, Sir said he, your Majesty quits Paphos in a season wherein you are not much accustomed to seek out solitary walks.

You have reason for what you say, said the King, but it seems less strange to me that I should come to seek for Philoxypes at Claria, then that I should finde him a­mongst the Rocks. The day being fair e­nough, though in Winter, the King who could no longer stay from acquainting [Page 103] Philoxpesy with what he had in his heart, made a sign to the few atht waited not him to stand off, and commanded me to stay.

There remained none then with him but Phyloxipes and my self; we all stood silent for a good while, and certainly had all of us much differing thoughts. The King seeing Philoxypes so altered, so me­lancholy, and so perplex't endevoured to make his friendship out go his Love: Phi­loxypes would have found by the King's eyes and mind, what the King had to say to him, and why he had taken this jour­ney, fearing by the signes which I made, least he had discovered his passion.

For my particular, I was ready to go wilde, to think I could not advertise Phi­loxypes, nor durst not tell the King what I knew of his love, whom he took to be his Rivall; but at last this long silence where­in every one of us said several things un­to our selves, was first broke by the King, who looking in a much obliging manner upon this Prince, imbraced him, and said, be not offended that I know the secret of your soul, and that I am not ignorant of the passion which torments you. [Page 104] Philoxypes surprised to hear the King speak thus, looked with a blush upon me; and the King imagining (as it was true) that he thought I had betrayed him, looked upon me too: and to punish me (as he told me afterwards) for not having told him the truth, not giving me leave to speak, and not disabusing Philoxypes in what he had conceived of me: once more said he, my dear Phyloxypes, be not afflict­ed that I have discovered your love, and believe I esteem you never a whit the less.

Sir, replied Philoxypes, me thinks if your Majestie did know the true cause of my affliction, you should be so good as to bewail me, and not to speak of it.

No, Philoxypes, replied the King, my goodness shall extend it self much further then so, for you: I am come hither ex­presly to accompany you in your solitari­ness: for since I cannot make you happy, I must at least make my self unhappy with you.

Sir, said Philoxypes, you altogether con­found me; take no such resolution I be­seech you, leave me to bear the punish­ment of my weakness alone, and believe [Page 105] me I shall infinitely praise your goodness, if you wil suffer me to die in peace amidst these woods, and rocks.

The King touched with extream com­passion, once more straitly imbraced Phi­loxypes, and looking upon him with a very sad look, I crave your pardon said he Phi­loxypes, if I cannot as yet absolutely yeild Aretaphile to you: but I am come hither to endeavour to gain say for your sake the passion I have for her, as you have stroven a long time for my sake to suppress the passion which shee hath occasioned in you.

Philoxypes surprised at the Kings dis­course, felt two contrary agitations at the same time: he was grieved to finde his odd opinion, and joyed that he knew not the true cause of his love, as he thought he had done. And believing that he might easily disabuse him in a thing so false as the former was, he resolved to continue the concealment of his true pas­sion.

The King then had no sooner said what I have told you, but Philoxypes stepping back a little, said, what Sir! does your Majesty suspect me of so much boldness [Page 106] as to be your Rivall? Confess, said the King, for I know your misfortune hath been such, as not to be able to resist Are­taphiles charms. But Phyloxipes, I blame you not for it; twas I that first made try­all thereof; I know how inevitable they are; you have done more then I my self should have done: it may be had I your part to play, I should have betrayed my master, instead of resolving to die of grief and sorrow, as you have done for my sake. Thus Phyloxypes, I am not displeased with you for loving Aretaphile.

Sir, said Phyloxypes, to witness unto you that I am not in love with her, I promise you never to see her more, nor yet ever to come within Paphos, or at least never to speak to that Princess.

I very well know said the King, your Generosity rather leads you to resolve on death, rather then to be failing in your duty. But Philoxypes, to the end you may not object unto me, That I have done nothing to vanquish my self, I am come to stay at Claria, as well as you, that I may endeavor to cure my self of this passion, and to yeild up Aretaphile to you. You on your side shall do the like, and he [Page 107] that is first cured, shall surrender his part in her to the other.

But my dear Phyloxypes, said he, you are yet more unhappy then you think for, for when I should cease to love Aretaphile, you would not have wonn her heart: you know how ambitious she is, that her soul is onely sensible of greatness: and when I should have yeilded up my mistress to you, unless I should also yeild my Crown unto you, you would not winne much upon her inclination.

But in fine said he (not affording Phi­loxypes leasure to answer him) if I yeild up Aretaphile to you, it will not be hard for me to yeild you up my Crown. And in a word, I will not be upbraided with your death.

I will do what I can to cure my self, to the end that you may cure your self; and if we can neither of us cure our selves, we will at least die together.

Sir, said Philoxypes, I vow by whatsoe­ver I hold most sacred, and most holy, that I have not the least pretence to the Prin­cess Aretaphile.

What then said the King, who did not believe him, is the cause of your retreat [Page 108] and Melancholly? I confess Sir, I was a hundred, and a hundred times ready to break my word which I had past to Phi­loxypes; but seeing the trouble he was in, end that in fine he could not resolve to all the King the truth, I with held whilst Phyloxypes answered, That what his Ma­jestie did command, did not deserve his curiositie, and that he could not tell it him.

Being by this time late, we returned to Claria, where the King spoke still after the same manner to Philoxypes, as Philoxy­pes did also to him. Having found a mo­ment of time to entertain Philoxypes alone, I would have perswaded him to have ac­quainted the King with the truth; but he could never resolve to do so, saying it would be sufficient to let him see he was not in love with Aretaphile, if he should never see her more.

This mean while, the more obstinacie, and grief the King found in Philoxypes, the more did he compassionate him, and the more he laboured to overcome his own passion.

And to this purpose he stayed eight daies at Claria, all which time Philoxypes [Page 109] readie to go mad, as well in considerati­on of the Kings opinion, and more for that he could not get to see Polycryte.

I do not think the King would so soon have left this retiredness, had he not been advertised that an Ambassador from Ama­sis King of Egypt, was come to Paphos, which forc't him to return. But Philoxy­pes, do he what he could, must needs go along with him: No said the King, I will not see Aretaphile, without seeing you at the same time. The Melancholy which I shall see in your eyes, must be to me an antidote against the Charms which I shall see in hers.

We went then to Paphos, but good gods how little delightfull was the Court then, and how much troubled did the Ambassa­dor finde the King, who was three daies without seeing Aretaphile, and Philoxypes being in unimaginable pain for the above­said reasons, seemed to grow still more melancholy, whereat the King was still more and more afflicted.

Ambitious Aretaphile was this mean while not without her perplexity, as well by reason of the Kings journey to Claria, as that he came not to visite her; and for [Page 110] that shee heard he was returned wonder­fully sad.

But at last the King desirous stil to con­firm himself in his belief, brought Philoxy­pes with him to Princess Aretaphile, hoping to discover his passion better there, then in any other place.

Philoxypes, who thought there was no better means to undeceive the King, then in leting him see that he took no pleasure in looking upon this Princess, was stil care­ful to look another way; but that which he did to dis-deceive the King, did the more deceive him: for said he to himself, unfor­tunate Philoxypes cannot indure the sight of her whom he loves, and whom he will not love.

He accused himself then of too much inhumanity, in exposing him to so great a punishment, and seeing how strangely perplext he was, his visit was not long.

This mean while, he having during this visit eyed his pretended Rivall, as much as his mistress, and having been much disquiet, the Princess was not much satisfied with his conversation, and knew not whereunto to attribute the cause of the change which she saw in him.

[Page 111] At his coming forth he said a thousand obliging things to Philoxypes, and Philoxy­pes made as many protestations to him of his being unconcerned in Aretaphile. But at last, that I may shorten my discourse as much as I may; Philoxypes being persecu­ted by the Kings conceit, anger'd at Cle­anthes discourse, much afflicted at what Policryte had said, and much more that he could see her no more, and that he durst not return to Claria, fell dangerously sick, all the Physitions gave up their opinions, that unless some cure were found for his Melancholy, he would infaliblie die. The feaver continued seven daies upon him very violently, during which time the King was greatly disconsolate; and during which time I had tane a little jour­ney to Amathuse, about some business that I had there, for I think if I had been at Pa­phos, I should have had much adoe to have kept Philoxypes his secret from the King.

As oft as the King came into his cham­ber, and saw him in that pitifull conditi­on, he resolved to think no longer on A­retaphile, but as soon as he came from him, or that Philoxypes grew any thing better, this resolution slackned a little.

[Page 112] Nor was he yet resolved what to do, but the feavor having at last left Philoxypes, and the Physitians continuing still to af­firm that he would infallibly die, if the cause of his Melancholy whence his mala­dy proceeded were not taken away: the King seemed to have put on a very strong resolution to pluck from out his soul the passion which possest him.

He then resolved to visite Aretaphile no more, who not knowing what to think of this change in the King, thought it might be he was offended that shee had not all this while been to see Philoxypes, whom he so dearly loved, especially since almost all the Ladies of the Court had been to visit him. For during his sick­ness, the Princess of Salamis, and Princess Agarista had never left him, so as the La­dies might with decency enough go thi­ther.

Yet so it happened, that the day that A­retaphile came thither, Philoxypes being much better then he was, they were gone forth, so as Aretaphile going accompanied with four or five of her women, found him all alone. Tis true shee was not there long without company, for the King came [Page 113] thither presently after. Philoxypes blusht when he saw him come in, and seemed so amazed at this encounter, as if he had been really in love with Aretaphile; the King who observed this his change of countenance, being much concernd to see that he should be the cause of Philoxypes danger: after a great strife within him­self, drew near to Princess Aretaphile, who out of her respect would have given him her place, which he would not ac­cept of: and after having looked upon her a while without speaking, he sigh't, and said, Madam, will you not cure Philoxypes?

Sir, said she, if his health depend on me, your Majesty should soon be eased of the grief his sickness causeth in you.

Philoxypes, who found a great alterati­on in the Kings countenance, was afeard least he might say somewhat which might have made Aretaphile know his opinion of him; wherefore not affording the King leasure to reply,

Sir, said he, though I believe Princess Aretaphile be able to do great things, and to charm great pains, yet I think I may say without offending her, that those evills [Page 114] which I lie under, depend not on hers wil; & that none but the Gods them selve can withdraw me from the grave. Phi­loxypes pronounced these words in so sad a manner, as endeavouring to overcome whatsoever opposed his design of saving Phyloxypes: drawing yet a little nearer to the Princess Aretaphile, for fear least they that were in the chamber might over hear him.

Madam, said he, (making a sign to Phyloxypes that he would not be interrup­ted) I shall tell you a thing which will much surprise you. I conjure you not­withstanding to give it a favourable in­terpretation; and to oblige me so far as to believe that upon better tearms then the saving of Philoxypes life, I would not tell it you, no not though mine own life were concerned therein.

Oh! Sir, cried out this sick Prince, if your Majesty end what you have begun to say, you will hasten my death instead of retarding it.

Princess Aretaphile, amazed to hear what she heard, and not able to guess what the matter should be, looked some­times upon the King, sometimes upon [Page 115] Philoxypes; but at last the king compleating his determination, tis you, Madam, said he, to the Princess Aretaphile, who send Philoxypes to his grave; your charms have been more powerfull then his reason, though his nobleness hath been yet grea­ter then his love. He loves you divine Aretaphile, not daring to tell you so; Hee will not so much as acknowledg it, yet I know for certain, that unless you take compassion on him, he will infallibly die.

I therefore speak no more to you in my own behalf, said he, in a strange Melan­choly manner, but deal less rigorously with him, then you have done with me, since he deserves it better: and if your Ambition be not to be satisfied without a Sovereign power, I promise you divine Princess, that if I cannot place Philoxypes upon the Throne, he shall alwaies be so near it, as his place shall hardly be discern­able from mine.

In fine said he, if Philoxypes die, I shall die, and so I shall for ever lose you: but if you save Philoxypes, I may at least hope to languish on a while, and to share part of your esteem, not being able to pretend [Page 116] any longer to any part of your affection. Nor think not said he, That this which I do, is any mark of weakness in my affecti­on, since on the contrary it denotes the violence thereof.

For in fine, if I could resolve to aban­don you, and to follow Philoxypes to the grave, I would not yeild up to him the part I pretend to have in your affection, though he be more worthy thereof then I; but not being able to see him die for my sake, without expiring with grief, I must live, that he may live, and conse­quently must endeavour for a while to prolong the satisfaction I take in seeing you.

Aretaphile was so astonisht to hear the King speak after this manner, and Phi­loxypes so afflicted, as astonishment and sorrow producing the same effect in these two personages, they staid a good while without speaking.

Aretaphile had opinion good enough of her beauty, to suffer her selfe easily to be perswaded that Philoxypes was in love with her, and she had likewise opinion good enough of his Generositie, to believ he durst not discover his passion.

[Page 117] But as nothing that was not King could touch her heart, she was strangely perplext to hear what she heard, and some­times she thought t'was peradventure but a pretext sought by the King to break with her.

Philoxipes on his side thinking that at the last he must be fain to tell the King the truth, that he might disabuse him, was so strangely confused, as he could not open his mouth: so as the King seeing them both so surprized, and finding that peradventure his love might quickly make him unsay all that his friendship had made him affirm, rose up, and without expecting what Aretaphile would answer. Madam, said he, the pittifull condition which you see Philoxypes is in, perswades you better then I can do, and he doubt­lesly will pardon me, if I speak not so long to you for him as I have formerly done to you for my self: which said, he went his way, though Philoxypes desired him to tarry; assuring him that he would wholly disabuse him.

This mean while, though Aretaphile had a great minde to be gone too, yet be­ing imbitterd in minde, and desirous to [Page 118] know a little more precisely, what the business of this so strange adventure would prove, shee staid a little after the King, and looking upon Philoxypes, who appeared to her to be so struck mute, as if he had been in love with her: is it you Philoxypes, said shee, that have lost your reason, or is it the King? for I confess unto you I know not whether of the two it is, and that I cannot comprehend either of you.

I confess Madam, said Phyloxipes, that I am not master of my reason, but Madam, tis a maladie which you are no waies cause of, and whereof I accuse you not: had you any design then said she, to make me lose the Kings good opinion? or is it that the King seeks some bad pretext to bereave me of it? But if it be so Philoxy­pes, there needs not so far a fetch about the bush. You need but give me reason of the least suspition, and I assure you I shall not long lament the loss of so divi­ded a heart as his is. For til now the King did alwaies love his Crown better then Princess Aretaphile, and by his this daies discourse, he will make me believe that he loves you better then me.

[Page 119] Madam, said Philoxypes, I beg it as a fa­vour from you, not to blame the King up­on so small reason; and not to blame in him the compassion he is pleased to have of an evill, which he believes you to be the cause of.

engage my self Madam, to free him from the error of his opinion; for though your charms be without compare, the re­spect which I have alwaies born to you, and that which I shall alwaies bear to the King, have assuredly warranted me from almost an inevitable danger, for those who have not had so powerfull reasons to withstand your beauty: therefore Ma­dam, do not disquiet your self, and do me the honour as to promise me to pardon the Kings injustice, in desiring that I should share with you in a heart where you ought onely to reign.

But Madam, the King had given me the place which I now enjoy, before he loved you; you ought not therefore be trou­bled thereat.

No, no, replied ambitious Aretephile, you will not easily be able to justifie the King: he is Generous, I confess, but he is but a bad lover, and whosoever can yeild [Page 120] up his interest in the party beloved, his love is certainly very indifferent.

This being said shee bid him farewell, and left Philoxypes, so much grieved, as his maladie encreased. Fearing then least he might die, and leave the King in the o­pinion he was in, he sent to desire him that he might speak with him; and this was just as I returned from Amethusa. I happened to be by the King when he re­ceived this message, who instantly went to Philoxypes, but with so much discon­tent, as I pitied him: he had repented himself more then once of what he had said to Aretaphile, and not knowing whe­ther she might not have said somewhat of obliging to Philoxypes after he had left them together, he returned unto him much disquieted.

When we came thither, he enquired whether the Princess Aretaphile had tarri­ed there long after him or not, and being told not, he entered into Philoxypes cham­ber, who was glad to see me with the King.

Sir, said he, I see it is time that I con­fess my weakness to you, and that I disa­buse you.

[Page 121] The King, who could not reconcile these two things, answered him onely with a sigh, and being set down by his bed side, Philoxypes ask'd him pardon for the trouble he had put his Majesty to, and desired me to acquaint the King with what I knew of his adventure; desiring him not to be offended that I had not told his Majesty the truth, since unless I should have drawn down the anger of Heaven upon me for perjury, I could not have revealed his secret, after the Oaths that he had made me take to the contrary I then began to acquaint the King with all that I knew touching Philoxypes love: but all I could say to him, appear'd to bee so incredible, as it was a long time before he could beleeve it. At last he told Phi­loxypes, that unlesse he should let him see Policrite, he would not beleeve what hee had heard.

Philoxypes perceiving the Kings obsti­nacie, told him, that though he was very ill, he would be carried to Claria, in case he were any thing better the next morn­ing, imagining he should sooner recover his health being near Policrite, then if he should stay at Paphos.

[Page 122] All this while the King did not believe what I had told him; sometime a man might see some sign of rejoycing in him: ha! my dear Philoxypes, would he say, is it possible that you were not my Rival, and that I was deceived: if it be so, I think I shall adore that Policrite you speak of, instead of blaming the love you bear her; since thereby I shall not be inforced to yeild up what I hold dearer then my life, and that my confident will not prove my rival.

But observe sir, the extraordinary ef­fects of love. Philoxypes was very sick when he sent to desire the King to come unto him: but when once he had any thought of returning to Claria, hee grew better: hee slept all the next night qui­etly enough, and the next day was carried in a Litter to Claria, whither the King went to lie that night.

The next day Philoxipes left his bed, and the following day, notwithstanding all his weakness, he got on horseback together with the King, waited on but by very few: and came to the foot of the moun­tains where they were to light. Being there, the King followed by none but Phi­loxypes [Page 123] and my self, went towards Clean­the's Cottage, which as soon as we disco­vered, Philoxypes, who had need enough howsoever to rest, staid a while, and shewing it to the King, Sir, said hee, strangely confused, see the place which made me forgo Paphos: see the inch of all the earth, that likes me best, and where you go to see one, who peradventure will rather make you Philoxypes his Rival, then Philoxipes shall prove yours.

He spoke this with a smile, by which it visibly appeard, that the hope of reseeing Policrite had brought joy into his heart: yet did he fear displeasing her, and to an­ger Cleanthes, by bringing the King thi­ther: but there being no remedy, he re­solved to do it, neither did this fear justle out his joy.

When the King had sufficiently consi­dered the greatness of Philoxypes his af­fection, in respect of the meanness of Policrites Cottage; and that he had not­withstanding acknowledged that there was somewhat of wilde in that desert, which was not displeasing: we went on, and came at last to that little Palisadoe of of Lawrels, wherewith Cleanthes his [Page 122] [...] [Page 123] [...] [Page 124] Court was inclosed. We entered there­into, and Philoxypes stepping before the king, went to the house, where he found the dore shut: he knock'd, but no body answered, which made him at first be­lieve, that Cleanthes his whole family was gone to the Temple, where hee once saw Policrite.

Yet since there might be some body there who might not hear, he knock'd a­gain, and knock'd so hard, that a young slave who served Cleanthes, came and o­pened the door, who very well knowing Philoxypes, told him, after that Philoxypes had ask'd him where his master was, that he could not tell him what he desired to know; and that all that he knew was, that Cleanthes, Megisto, Polycrite, and Dori­da, were gone from thence, and were not to return thither any more: that they had carried along with them the women, which they had brought from their own Countrey; and that his Master had com­manded him to wait his further directi­ons there, not knowing wherefore he was gone, nor why he left him there.

Philoxypes, surpriz'd and afflicted at this Discourse, was a good while without [Page 125] speaking; The King thought at first that there was some trick in it, and that Phi­loxypes had made me say what I had said, only to abuse him; but at last this young Slave being stept into the House, and re­turning presently; Sir, said he to Philoxy­pes, when Policrite was ready to depart from hence, she drew me aside, unseen by any one, and gave me this which I give to you, ordaining me so to doe if you should come hither. Philoxypes taking immedi­ately what the Slave presented him with, opened the Letter, whilst the King did me the honour to speak with me, and read these ensuing words:

PHILOXYPES, as soon as he had read this Letter, came to the King, and presenting it unto him; Sir, said he, your Majesty may read in this Letter my inno­cency, and my misfortune. The King be­gan then to read aloud what Policrite had written; but good God in what pain was the unfortunate Philoxypes that he could not interrupt him; but as soon as he had read it out, looking upon him with a fixt and grieved eye; how say you now? Sir, said he, am I yet in love with Princess Aretaphile, or am I not the most unfortu­nate man in the world? the King, imbra­cing him, asked him pardon for his suspi­tions, and of the trouble he had given him; but my dear Philoxypes said he, I shall be sufficiently punished for it, as well in respect of your sorrow, which shal al­waies be mine; as for Aretaphile, who will not easily forgive me, yet said he, you [Page 128] have wherein to rejoyce, since you learn two things at once of great importance, and of great consolation. For now you know that Policrite loves you, and that she is of Princely descent: Could you have asked more of the Gods, if you had been to have had your wishes granted you?

Ah! Sir, said Philoxypes, that which you alleadge to comfort me, is the greatest part of my misfortune: For tis true, I finde that Policryte does not hate me, and that shee is of birth equall with my self, but at the same time this lovely and cruel personage tells me, shee shall never see me more, and that shee knows not whi­ther shee is carried.

Oh! Sir, I should be more to blame were I in love with Princess Aretaphile, but I should be less miserable: I should have reasons to gainsay my passion; but here I see nothing which doth not forti­fie and augment it.

In fine after Phyloxypes had sufficiently bemoned himself, he left the King, and went to ask a hundred things of the young slave, without being able to learn any thing, either of Policrites birth, nor [Page 129] whither Cleanthes & Megisto were gone; all he could learn was only that twas above a fortnight since they were gon: nothing els could be gotten out of this young Slave, neither by prayers, promises, nor threats, whose fidelitie Philoxypes, for all his rage, could not chuse but approve of: but not being able to learn any more, he waited back upon the King to Claria.

For my part I was never more at my wits end; for the king was so sad, as well for his own occasion, as for those of PHI­LOXIPES, as he could not resolve to say any thing, neither by way of bemo­ning himself, nor yet of comforting PHILOXIPES, whom he so dearly lo­ved.

PHILOXYPES on his part was more perplex'd: he was sorry to forgo that Cottage though his beloved was no lon­ger there; he sometimes looked back up­on it, sometimes he looked upon Poli­crites Letter, which the king had given him back.

He would somtimes lift up his eies to hea­ven, then again fix them on the earth, and walking sometimes without speaking, sometimes fetching deep sighs, he seem­ed [Page 130] not to know whether the king were there or no, or whether he were a­lone, so deep was his melancholy. At last we came to Glaria, but good Gods how sad was the conversation the rest of that day.

At last said the king to Philoxypes, you have this advantage, to know that Poli­cryte is much obliged to you, that she hath nothing to reproach you withall, that you have not offended her, and that whereso­ever she is, if she think of you, tis onely to bewail your absence: where on the con­trary, I have incen'st Aretaohile, whose aspiring soul does doubtlesly accuse me of want of affection, and who will take it ve­ry ill, that I preferd your life before my love to her.

But Sir, said the afflicted Philoxypes, you know where the Princess Aratephile is, you may make your reasons known to her, you may ask her pardon for that fault, which an excess of Generosity made you commit: you may sit and sigh by her, and may appease her anger. But for my part Sir, should I complain, should I sigh, should I pour forth torrents of tears a­midst these Rocks, would all this restore [Page 131] to me my Policryte? should I thereby learn where shee lives? It may be Clean­thes is put to sea, and it may be I shall ne­ver know, neither who Policryte is, nor where shee is.

Ah! Sir, said this disconsolate Prince, if you knew the cruelty of my adventure, you would easily know that I am the most unfortunate man in the world: for if I loved one that did hate me, despight might cure me: if I loved one that were inconstant, the scorn I should have of her weakness, might consolate me: if I were jealous, a part of my melancholy would pass away in seeking how I might preju­dice my Rivals: were Policrytes absence bounded, the hope of her return, how long so e're it were, would allay my dis­contents Nay, vvere any person vvhom I should love, dead, I think my sufferings vvould not be so great as they are. For in fine, my mallady is such, as doth stupi­fie reason, and makes the soul almost in­sensible.

In this manner did the king and PHI­LOXYPES entertain themselves. I en­deavoured to comfort them both, but to tell you truth, my reasons vvere not list­ned [Page 132] unto; as for Philoxypes, he knew not what remedy to seek for; for having learn'd by the slave who gave him Poli­crite's letter, that twas a good while since shee went away, he could not dream of following her, nor knew he where to seek after her.

All he could do, was to give order to his people to watch night and day about the Cottage, with directions to stay any who should come thither, that they might learn by them what this too faithfull Slave would not discover; and to follow him whersoever he should go, believing probably that Cleanthes had not left him a­lone in that house, without some secret reason, and without having a design to return; or at least to send somebody thi­ther on his behalf, or that the Slave him­self should return to him.

As for the King it fared not thus with him: he knew that it was at Aretephiles feet that he was to seek for pardon: he would not, notwithstanding make his dear Phi­loxypes returne so soon to Paphos, but staid the next day at Claria.

But though there was no hope of find­ing Policrite, Philoxypes desired the King [Page 133] that he would be pleased to send to all the ports of the Island, to know whether Cleanthes had tane shipping in any of them or no, it being easie to be known, by rea­son of the many women that were in his company, which would make him re­markable. The King promised him to do what he desired, but conjured him also not to refuse to go with him to Paphos, to assist him in getting Aretaphiles pardon. Philoxypes appeared visibly displeased to be forced to return to the Court, but be­ing so much obliged to the King, and the king being upon ill tearms with his Mi­stress, onely out of his Love to him, he thought it became him to go, as he did. When we were come to Paphos, the King went that very night to Princess Areta­philes lodgings, and found her onely ac­companied with her women. She recei­ved him with all the civility that was due to his condition, but also with as much coolness as could be expected from an in­censed party.

Seeing Philoxypes with the king, Sir, said shee, with a malicious smile, did not I tell you Philoxypes would recover with­out my medling with him. Madam, said [Page 134] he, Philoxypes is much worse then I belie­ved him to be; but thanks to Heaven, I will not lay his death to your charge, since you are not the cause of his disquiet. May it please the Gods that you put not Phi­loxypes in a condition of reproaching you with my death!

No, no, Sir, said shee, your life is in no danger, as long as Philoxypes lives, your Majesty needs fear nothing. Alas Madam, cry'd the king, deal not so hardly with me! Alas, Sir, said shee, go not about I beseech you to perswade me to things so directly opposite one to another, in so short a time; it is not above four or five days since you did me the honour to tell me at Philoxypes his lodging, that you would no more sue to me for your self; that my affection was a thing wherein you did no longer desire a part; and if I remember well, you did also intreat me not to deal so rigourously with Philoxy­pes, as I had done with you. And it may be, said shee, (expressing an extremity of Malice) that yeelding much to your in­treaties upon that occasion, I should have granted what you have demanded for Philoxypes, had my friendship been neces­sary [Page 135] to safe his life; but since God be thanked, he needs it not, he may be pleased to content himselfe with my e­steem; and your Majesty may likewise be satisfied with my respect, which is all I can, or ought to give you. For in fine to make me believe that you love me, after being able to permit that another should love me, and you your selfe wish me to love him, is a thing not easie to be understood, nor yet easily disjest­ed: beleive me, Sir, said shee, to love ones rival, better then ones Mistresse, is a thing whereof there are not many ex­amples, and which may allow me to let those know, who shall be acquainted with the business, that tis an excellent way to make a faithful servant, & a very bad invention to make a Princess love him, who treats her after that maner. Shal the compassion I had of Philoxipes, Ma­dam, replyd the king, destroy me for e­ver in your good opinion? me, I say, who underwent an unexpressable tor­ment, before I could resolve to pitty him? me, who did not yeild you up, save onely because I could not abandon you, and who found that PHILOXYPE'S [Page 136] death did hasten mine? If you could have loved Aretaphile, answerd the prin­cess, more then Philoxypes, you would have lamented his misfortune and yours; you would have endeavoured to have cured him by absence, or by a thousand otherwaies; you would have bewaild his death when it should have happened, and would yet have been comforted, by the sole sight of Aretaphile: but because you love PHILOXYPES better then you love Aretapile, you resolve without much difficulty to lose her. Yet Sir, you could yeild up to PHILOXYPES no more then that part which you held in her, which was not peradventure so great as you be­lieve.

Ah! inhumane princesse said the king, make me not dispair, and know that when I made a surrender of you to Phi­loxypes, I was resolved to die. It may be Sir, said shee, If I had so much weaknesss as to lend a favourable ear to what you now say, that upon the first occasion that should present it self,; and upon the first suspicion you should have that any one should bear me never so little good will, you would again conjure me to be [Page 137] his cure. No, no, Sir, said shee, with a yet more serious face, you never lo­ved me, nor do you know what it is to love: Love is somewhat above reason, or generosity, which hath reasons of its own: a man may give his own life for his friend, but as for the Mistress whom he loveth, it would be more just, and more usuall, to quit all his friends for her interest, then to yeild her up to any one friend. In fine said shee, you may per­chance have thought you could have li­ved without me; for had you dream't you must have dyed, me thinks you might as well have dyed without yeilding up Aretaphile to Philoxypes, as after ha­ving surrendered her to him. But Sir, since you have rather chosen to specifie an extraordinary mark of Generosity, then to give the commonest proofe of love, I have no more to say; neither have I more to do, but to preserve my heart as free as it hath allwaies been. The king seeing he could not appease this haughty spirit, call'd Philoxypes in into his aid; come said he, come make amends for the fault which you have innocently com­mitted; and if you will preserve my life, [Page 138] as I would have done yours, be a mean of replacing me in the condition wherein I was before I had compassion of you. Ma­dam, said Philoxypes, addressing his speech to the Princess, if you judge of the Kings love to you, by his Friendship to me, what may you not expect from thence; since to save my life, he could for some few moments onely renounce the posses­sion of so inestimable a jewel. And will you not then believe, That upon the least occasion which should present it self, he would for your service sacrifice, not one­ly Philoxypes, but even all his subjects, nay, even his own life? No Sir, said she, you are not so much bound to the King, as you imagine, and instead of your de­siring me to judge of his love to me, by the friendship he bears to you, I shall ad­vise you to judge of his friendship to you, onely by his love to me; and to believe, that since he was able to yeild me up, he never had so resolute a passion for Are­taphile, as to deserve that Philoxypes should be much beholden to him, for what hee hath done for him, since he would have done the like for any other. But cruell princess, said the King, what will you [Page 139] have me to do? me thinks said she, I should demand no unjust thing of you, if I should humbly intreat you to think no longer on Aretaphile, and quietly to enjoy the life of Philoxypes, which hath cost you so little.

Ah, said he, if I should have purcha­sed the life of Philoxipes, at the losse of your affection, I should have bought it more deare, then if I should have given my Crown for it. Confess the truth, said this malicious Princess, if Philoxypes had been as sick of Ambition, as you did think him love sick, he would not for cer­tain be yet cured, and you would not so soon have forgon your Scepter, as you did Aretaphile. Phyloxipes, who easilie conceived the hidden sense of these words, whereunto the King replyed not, so was he over born with grief, said, Ma­dam, if the King shall confess unto you that he hath done amiss, and shall ask your pardon for it, will you be more in­exorable, then are the Gods, and will you shew no mercy? when the King said shee, shall have done to cure me of any malady of minde, if any such shall befall me, so extraordinary a thing, as that [Page 140] which he hath done for you, I shall then see of what minde I shall be. In fine, Sir, All that the King and Philoxypes could do or say, did no waies avail with this impe­rious Princess.

When they were come from her, and were returned to the Palace; Philoxypes who was well acquainted with Aretaphiles humour, told the King, he knew a way how to work his reconcilement with her: Alas, said the King, there are few things I would not do to purchase that content: speak therefore, my dear Phyloxypes: must I be long in pain? must I sigh abundant­ly, and pour forth abundance of tears? and must I be everlastingly prostrate at her feet? No Sir, said he, you shall onely put the Crown upon her head. But re­plied the King, I would gladly not have owed Aretephiles love to her Ambition; on the contrarie, I would have had the Crown of Cyprus to have been a reward of her affection to me.

Five or six daies being thus past over, and Philoxypes, not being able to tarry any longer at the Court, he desired leave of the King to return to CLARIA. Those who the King had sent to the Port towns [Page 141] vvhich vvere neerest to Paphos, returned at the same time, but brought no news of Policrite; so as the unfortunate Philo­xypes returned to his solitariness in great despair.

He had yet engaged the King not to discover the cause of his melancholy; nor vvere there any that knew it, but he, the Princess Aretaphile, and my self; nor did the Princesse know any more, then that Philoxypes vvas faln in love vvi [...] one that he knew not.

It would be very hard to relate unto you what life he led; when it was fair weather, he went to visit Policrite's Cot­tage, and all the places where he had seen her, or spoken with her; he went to ask more questions of the slave who was there, and whom they had ever had an eye unto, not finding any one that spoke with him, nor that he spoke with any one. But all the addresses this Prince could make, could not prevail against the fidelity of this slave, who deserved a better condition.

When Philoxypes could not walk a­broad, he walked in his Gallery, gazing on the picture of his dear Policrite. When [Page 141] he call'd to mind how contented a life he led before he fell in love, he almost wish­ed he had never seen Policrite; but when he remembred her charming beauty, her bewitching mind, and the happy howres which he had enjoied in her company, though shee had alwaies concealed the esteem she had for him; he preferr'd all the sorrows he had suffered since he was in love, before all his former pleasures.

Oh! would he sometimes say to him­self, when he should read Polycrite's let­ter; how sweet, how pleasing, and how cruel things have I learnt in one day? Policrite is of illustrious birth, Policrite will alwaies remember me, and Policrite will never more see me. Alas, if it be so, said he, why have I not recourse to death, and what shall I do with so un­fortunate a life? Then suddenly remem­bring that Policrite was alive, and that she did not hate him, he conceived a beam of hope, that peradventure shee might make enquirie after him, and knowing how miserable a life he led, she might at last resolve to let him know in what part she lived.

This thought afforded him only so [Page 142] much hope as to keep him from dying; not so much as to comfort him in his misfortunes. Living then in this manner all the rest of the Winter, he went some­times to see the King, when the King could not come to him; and despairing of all remedie, he only expected death, or news of Policrite: the one or the other, whereof were the object of all his thoughts, & the bounds of all his desires. The Spring it self, which seems to inspire joy into whole nature, wrought no alte­ration in him. He beheld the roses in his Gardens blush, with the same melancho­lie as hee had seen his knots white with Snow in Winter. Those who watched over Cleanthes his slave, brought him word one morning, that he was sudden­ly dead. This anger some news did re­double his grief, in as much as for that he seemed concerned in any thing which belonged to Policrite; and that this slave appeared to him worthy of such good fortune, as that in losing him, hee lost almost all hopes of ever discovering where Policrite was. He forbare not notwithstanding, to have watch kept for a while, to see whether any bodie [Page 144] should come to that rural Cottage, or no: but at last, wearie of wearying out his people, he dispenced with their further trouble therein; and abandoned his for­tune absolutely to the guidance of the gods.

As he was one daie in this sad mood, Solon came to Claria: hee was at first much joied to hear a name he so dearlie loved; but considering what an alterati­on there was in him, since he had seen him, and how confounded he should bee to acknowledge his weakness to him, though he knew that lawful love was not a passion to which Solon had declared himself an enemy, this joy suffered a little allay. He went notwithstanding with much eagerness to meet him; but sadness having so deeply seised upon his heart and eyes, the satisfaction which he received to see the famous Solon, was so inward, as there hardly appeared any sign thereof in his countenance. Solon no sooner saw him, but he observed his me­lancholy; and Philoxypes on his part, loo­king on Solon, in stead of the peacefull physiognomy, and that chearful and pleasing aspect which he had wont to [Page 145] have in his eyes, he seemed to see a great deal of sorrow.

The first complements being over, and Philoxypes having brought Solon to his chamber; Sir, said he, the sight of you would surely much rejoyce me, did I not see some signs of sorrow in you, of which I must needs request to know the cause. Noble Prince, reply'd Solon, I should have prevented you, and have desired to know the cause of your melancholy, be­fore having afforded you leasure to in­form your self of mine. But I confesse unto you, the Law-giver of Athens, is not at present in a condition of prescribing Laws unto himself; and that the sorrow I feel, is stronger then my reason. Philoxy­pes, embracing him then straitly, conjured him to tell him the reason thereof, and desired him to believe he would do all that laie in his power to comfort him.

But Sir, said he, I thought that Philo­sophie had been a salve to you against all the misfortunes of life; and that sorrow was a thing unknown to Solon, to whom whole Greece gives the name of wise.

Philosophie said this famous Athenian, is a vain-glorious art, which boasts of go­verning [Page 144] [...] [Page 145] [...] [Page 146] in places, wherein she hath no great power; she may doubtlesly said he, teach men to bee vertuous, make them know whole nature, teach them how to discourse, and give them Laws and Pre­cepts for the government of Kingdoms, and Common-wealths; Nay, she may oft times make us overcome our passions; but when an equitable feeling, which na­ture gives us, is to be overcome, believe me Philoxypes, the same Philosophy which hath sometimes made us lose Crownes without change of countenance, or which hath made us not stick to refuse them, is weak in lesse eminent occasions. And in my particular, I may say I have beene thrice in my life time abandoned by her; though peradventure I have been assist­ed by her upon an hundred difficult oc­casions. But yet said Philoxypes, shall I not know vvhat 'tis that afflicts you? It very well behoves that I tell it you, said Solon, since 'tis from you alone that I can expect any help. I will not repeat unto you, said he, the so many particulars of my fortune which formerly I have ac­quainted you withal, for I believe you have not forgot them; but that you may [Page 147] perfectly know the cause of my grief, I must howsoever take the rise of my dis­course afar off; and tell you some cir­cumstances of my life, which you have not yet known. You know I never be­lieved that marriage was incompetible with Philosophy and true Wisdome, as Thales that famous Milesian did imagine; you know likewise that I married a per­sonage of great worth and understand­ing, by whom I had children, who died soon after they were born; one onely son excepted, whom I have bred up care­fully, intending to make him worthie of that noble bloud whence he is descended. He was about 14 or 15 years old, when I vvas at Milet, about some affairs of mine; where I visited wise Thales, who was one of my very good friends. He civily re­proacht me with my weakness, and said I did sufficiently witness my indulgencie to love, by a little image of Cupid, which I one day consecrated to that Deitie, and placed in the park belonging to the Aca­demie, there vvhere they who run vvith the sacred Torch, are wont to assemble themselves. Passing from one thing to another, we spake of the happiness, and [Page 148] of the misfortunes of marriage, and thus our discourse varying, as it oft fals out from our first subject, wee spoke of news and other such like matters.

Presently after, Thales feigning to have some order to give to one of his folk about his own affairs, rose to speak to him in his ear, and came and took his place again. Not long after, I might see a stranger come, whom I knew not, vvho told him he was come from Ath [...]ns, not above ten daies ago. Prest by the natu­ral desire of curiositie, to know whe­ther there was nothing of new befaln in my Countrey, since my departure thence, I askt him whether he knew any thing of considerable there or no? No, said he, save onely that the day I came away on, I saw the Funeral observed of a young youth of the best rank, vvhereat all the people of note in the Town, vvere pre­sent, and vvere very sensible of the sor­row this childs death vvould cause in his Father, vvho vvas not then at Athens. I confess when I heard him speak thus, my colour changed, fearing my son might be concerned: vvhich made mee ask him whether he knew not the name of [Page 149] that unfortunate Father? I have forgot it, said he, but I know hee is a man of great integritie, and who is much estee­med of in that place.

I confesse, Sir, that since Philosophy teacheth sinceritie, as well as modestie, I thought I might be the man spoken of; was willing to know the truth, with­out offence to good manners; his name, doubtlesly, said I, was not Solon: pardon me, said he, his name came just to my memory, as you pronounced it. To what end serves it to deny it? I could not heare so sad news vvithout sorrow, and that so great as Thales pitied me, and jesting at my weakness, asked me whe­ther it were advantageous for a wise man to marry, or no? Putting himself there­by in a condition to have studied Philo­sophie for others, not being able to make use thereof himself. After this, he told mee there was not one word true of all that this man had said; that he had not so much as been at Athens of a long time; and that he had said all this by his directi­ons, which he had caused to be given him, when he rose from me to speak in the ear with one of his servants.

[Page 150] At my return to Athens, I found my son alive indeed, but I found the whole Town in confusion, by reason of some disorder that had happened between those that were descended from Megacles, and those that were come of them that had been of the Citonien conspiracie. The Megarians surprised the port of Ni­sa, and re took the Isle of Salamina, w [...] had caused me so much trouble. And to add to the misfortune, all the people were seised on with a superstitious snare, vvhich perswaded them that spirits retur­ned; that fantosmes and apparitions ap­peared; and this imagination prevailed so much with most of them, as there was an universal humiliation.

Those who had the charge of the sa­cred things, said, that they found infal­lible signes by the Victims, that the town needed purification, and that the gods were incensed by reason of some secret offence committed.

To this effect, by the advice of the wisest sort, they sent an Expresse to Cre­ta, to Epimenides the Phaestien, who was and doubtleslie is still, an incomparable man, a man whose life is altogether pure, [Page 151] innocent, and holy: who eats no more then what is sufficient to maintain life, and whose soul leans as little to the sen­ses, as in this life it can: who is very lear­ned in the knowledge of heavenly things; and who passes in his Countrey, not onely for one who hath sometimes Divine Revelations, but is by the people of Crete believed to be the sonne of a Nymph, called, Balta. However it be sir, he is a man of extraordinary knowledge, and virtue.

Epimenides, not refusing the intreaties that were made unto him, came to Athens, and of so many famous men as were in that noted Citie, did me the favour to chuse me for his most intimate friend, ha­ving through his wisdome, and through the peoples belief in him, dissipated all their false imaginations, and that by pray­ers, Sacrifices, and Ceremonies, he had rid them of all their fears, he would yet stay a while at Athens for my sake; where certainly he told Prodigious predictions to a hundred severall people. As we were speaking one day of humane weak­nesses, and how little a man ought to rely upon his own strength, nor yet upon Phi­losophie; [Page 152] I acquainted him with what had befallen me with Thales the Milesian, and how much ashamed I was, not to be master of my first opinions. Solon (said he to me) is easie to be overcome on that side, and as oft as fortune will make use of the affections of nature against him, she will certainly overcome him: For he hath a soul as tender upon such eneoun­ters, as strong against ambition: But So­lon, said he, you are to be bewailed if you do not resolve to believe me; and be­lieve that what you underwent whilest you were with your friend Thales, is little in comparison of what you shall one day suffer in the person of a Daughter, of whom your wife is at this present with Child.

I have, said he, observed your birth, and your life, and I finde that this childe, which will be soon born, will be a prodigie for beauty and virtue; and will also be one of the happiest women in the world, if you will believe my councel: but also if you will not believe, and fol­low it, shee will be most unfortunate. In fine, saidhe, If you do not what I shal say unto you, you shall have the discon­tent [Page 153] to see that your Daughters beauty will make your Countrie desolate; and that after having refused the sovereign power (as you will one day refuse it) she will make one of your Citizens fall in Love with her, who will become the Ty­rant of the Common wealth, which will make her resolve to die, rather then to marry him.

I confese I was much troubled to hear Epimenides speak after this manner; for I had heard him foretel divers things, which I had seen punctually fall out ac­cording to his predictions. I then desired him to tell me what he would have me do, to preserve a man who did sacrifice his whole life to the glory of Athens, from having a daughter who should cause love in him that would be the Tyrant thereof. He told me then, That since it was not yet known in Athens that my wife was with Childe, I should conceal her great belly; send her into the countrey, & when shee should be brought to bed, that I should cause this daughter to be secretly brought up, not suffering her to know whose childe shee was, nor yet any other body whosoever, except those who were [Page 154] to have the care of her education, that if it should so fall out, as I should be forced to forsake my Countrey, I must during my exile, leave her in some Island upon the Egean Sea; and that things being thus carried, she should be infallibly happie, and I should not need to fear that shee should be beloved by the Tyrant of A­thens. In fine, Sir, to shorten my discourse, I obeyed Epimenides his his advise; I sent my wife into the Countrey, where when her time was come, shee was brought to bed of a Daughter: wondering at the accomplishment of the beginning of this prediction, I continued to follow Epemi­nedes his directions, who at his departure (after having refused all the presents that were made him, and taking for his re­ward, onely a branch of the Sacred O­live) told me that my daughter would one day cause as much joy in me by her virtue, and good fortune, as shee would cause sorrow in me by reason of her loss. These obscure words continued fix'd in my memory, so as I put my daughter in­to the hands of a Sister of mine whom I loved very well, who was married in Co­rinth, and was come to see me: trusting [Page 155] onely her, and her husband, with the se­cret which Epeminedes had acquainted me withall.

I will not stay to tell you, that soon after I lost my wife, for which I was very much grieved; neither will I entertain you with the disorders of Athens, which are too well known to all men; nor yet with the relation how I was solicited to accept of the sovereign power, being put in mind that there had been Kings of my Race, and that one that was descended from the illustrious Chodrus, need make no scruple to accept the Scepter: nor vvith vvhat stedfastness I rejected those vvho made so unjust a proposition to me, fol­lovving Epeminedes his predictions. Nei­ther vvill I tell you vvhat Lavvs I there established, you knovv them, and knovv hovv they vvere observed; nor yet the resolution vvhich I took to quit my Countrey, for the space of ten years; to the end that I might make no further alterations, and leave the people leasure to accustom themselves to their new Lawes.

But I will tell you, that being readie [Page 156] to take my voluntarie banishment from Greece, and not forgetting what Epemine­des had told me, I came to Corinth, un­known: and having told my sister that I was obliged to leave my Daughter in an Island during the time of my exile: This vertuous personage, who loved her no less then a Daughter, which she had of her own, had married a Gentleman of ex­traordinary worth, and who had long li­ved a retired live, so as as shee easilie pre­vailed with him, not to abandon my Daughter, who really appeard to me, to be the sweetest childe I ever saw. I con­sulted the Gods touching my design, who confirmed me therein. Thus I took this little Familie along with me in my ship; and being desirous that the place of exile for these whom I so dearly loved, might be a pleasant place, I chose this Isle to leave them in.

Whilest Solon discovered thus at large, Philoxypes, who longed to interrupt him, could no longer forbear: did you, Sir, said he, leave a Daughter in this Island? Yes, said Solon, with a sigh, and I saw her here about four years ago, when I would be seen by none but by you: and Sir, if [Page 157] I may be allowed to say so, I saw her such a one as Epeminedes had desiphered her, to wit handsom, ful of wit & vertue.

When I first left those, to whose gui­dance I committed her, I willed them to saie they were of the Island of Crete: At this word, Philoxypes changed colour, re­membring that it was of thence that Cle­anthes said himself to be. But Sir, said he, how vvas this daughter called, that the Gods gave you? Polycrite replied, Solon. Policrite, said Philoxypes, is Policrite, Sir, then your daughter? Solon surprised at Philoxypes question, changed colour also, and feared lest this Prince might have known somewhat of Policrite, which might displease him more then the un­certainty he was in of her life or place of abode.

How Sir, said he, came you to know my daughter, whom to saie truth, I left near enough to you, but whom I had al­so left in a place, vvhere I thought not you should have met with her; and that when you should have met with her, you should not have known her to be vvhat she is? It vvas the Gods, replied Philo­xypes, who brought me to the knowledg [Page 158] of her; and 'tis the Gods likewise, said he, vvho have taken her from her Cot­tage, doubtlesly to punish me for not precisely knowing the daughter of that famous Solon. At last, hee desired this Law-giver to go into his Gallery, which vvas painted since his last being at Claria; and shewing him the several pictures of Policrite, under the figure of Venus Urania; behold, Sir, said he, the Goddesse vvhich made me know Policrite. Solon surprised with the sight, looked on Philoxypes & not comprehending how he could come by those pictures, without Policrites consent; Sir, said he, Epimenides assured me that Policrite, should be vertuous; but these pictures make me believe, that being bred up amongst the Rocks, she may have become too indulgent. Ah, Sir, said Philoxypes! how farre is Policrite from what you speak of? but shall I dare to ac­quaint you with my boldness? and shall I dare to enquire of you, before I acquaint you vvith my misfortune, and yours, wherefore you left her in that place? So­lon, who knew Cleanthes and Megisto's in­tegrity, who knew likewise how vertu­ous Policrite was, condemned his first su­spitions, [Page 159] and hasted to tell him how when he first arrived in our Island, hee made Cleanthes and his Family come on shore as passengers which he knew not, that afterwards he placed them near the sea, side, but that being afterwards at Claria, and whil'st he assisted him in the building of that town to which he would give his name, being walk'd abrode all alone, he had observed that little desert place, where he placed Policrite, having given Cleanthes where withall to build that little Cottage, and where withall to subsist commodiouslie during the time of his ex­ile. That passing from Africa, into Asia, to go to Cressus his Court, he would first come once again to Cyprus, that he might see his dear Policrite. That he had been a whole month in that Cottage, Policrite not having all that while either known his name, nor that he was her Father; and that afterwards he came to visit him at Claria; that he confest he had in that jour­ney discovered strange lights in the young maids understanding, which obli­ged him to be very sensible of her loss: For said he, I can finde no bodie now in that Cottage, and cannot learn, neither [Page 160] why those that did inhabit there have left it, nor how long it is since they went from thence, nor vvhat vvay they are gone.

But you Sir, said he, be pleased I be­seech you to let me hear all whatsoever you knovv of my daughter, and conceal nothing from me; for I confess I stand upon thornes. Philoxypes having obser­ved that Solon was really very impatient to know how he came to knovv Policrite, and hovv he had got so many Pictures of hers, told him the vvhole truth; he made him call to mind his former inflexibility, and hovv he had told him long since that a man might once in his life be overcome by love vvithout any shame. Then he told him vvhat glorious and gallant com­pany he had had at his house; hovv mi­raculously this Venus vvas esteemed by them all: the contestation vvhich he had vvith them thereupon; hovv aftervvards he met vvith Policrite, at the head of the River Claria; hovv surprized he vvas to see that the Pourtrait of his Venus, should be the picture of this unknovvn maid; hovv much he vvas troubled that he could not finde her again; hovv happily [Page 161] he met Cleanthes as he vvas going vvith his Family to the Temple: hovv he savv her the third time vvhen he found her in the Temple; hovv at last he discovered her Cottage, and his sundry thoughts thereupon: he acquainted him vvith the first visit he made to Policrite, vvhen he found her making Garlands of Flow­ers; vvhat speech he had vvith Cleanthes, and Megisto; and in fine, hovv violently he vvas taken vvith her. He told him al­so, hovv he had endeavoured to suppress his passion, by reason of the supposed meanness of her birth: vvhat an altera­tion this passion had vvrought in his minde: hovv the Court vvas startled at his Melancholy; the Kings odd conceipt thereupon, his discourse vvith the King, and with the Princess Aretaphile: hovv angry this Princess vvas, and hovv much he himself was perplext: hovv it came to pass that Mandroclus had dravvn Policrite's Pictures; and in fine, he told him all that had befallen him: and vvhen he had ended his recitall, not affording Solon leisure to speak, thus you see, Sir, said he, I am no longer that Inflexible Philoxypes vvhich you formerly knevv [Page 162] me to be, but I may safely protest unto you, that I loved Policrite in a Cottage, with the same respect as if shee had been seated on a Throne: and I may also as­sure you, that my passion for her was as pure, as if I had known shee had been your daughter.

Do not blame me then, I conjure you, since I have onely adored Solons virtue and worth in Policrite's person; for tis her virtuous minde which I am more en­amor'd of, then of her personal beauty; yet do I deserve to be punish'd, for doubtlesly my frequent visits have cau­sed Cleanthes to change his abode. Hee knew not Philoxypes, and Imagined he might have abused him in Policrite: But to prove, said he, that I lived respect­fully with her, and that I never received a favourable word from her, see (said he, Sir, shewing him the letter which hee had received) the innocent and cruell sign of acknowledgement, that this Di­vine Personage hath given me, since that at the same time when shee saies she will remember me, shee saies also she shall ne­ver see me more: yet Sir, said he, if my passion do displease you, you shall see [Page 163] how ready I will be to die, as soon as you shall have given me the least occasion so to do; since that is the only way whereby I can pluck her from out my heart: but on the contrary, if you do truly love me, you will rather bewail me, then accuse me; you will promise me not to oppose me, if the Gods restore Policrite to you: and you will suffer her to be Mistress of that stately town which was built by your di­rections.

I wish, Sir, I were able to offer her sun­dry Scepters; but I think not that he who refuseth them, will stick much to bestow his daughter on a Prince, who thinks himself happie in being but near a Throne, and to assist his King to sustain the weight of his Scepter.

When Philoxypes had made an end of speaking, and Solon had read Policrite's letter; my Daughter said he, is yet wiser then I thought her to have been: and since she hath been able to resist the charms of Philoxype's greatness and worth J finde Epimenides had reason to speak of her, as of a miracle.

Be you then assured, said he, Sir, That if the Gods restore my Daughter to me, [Page 164] I shall bring no other obstacle to your de­signes, then my humble desire that you will seriously consider whether shee be worthy or no of the honour you would do her: for if you continue in your re­solution, and that I shall know that shee doth indeed deserve a part of the favours which you vouchsafe her, I shall be ready to command her to look on you, as on him whom the gods have chosen to make her happy and glorious.

I do not tell you Philoxypes, that the fa­mous Excestides, my Father, who left me poor onely out of his own Magnificen­cie, was descended from the illustrious bloud of King Chodrus; for these are not things which I think men ought much to boast of: But I will assure you, that all those of my House, since they have left the Crown, have been as good Citizens, as their Forefathers were good Kings; and that for my particular, I had alwaies ra­ther oppose my self to Tyrannie, then be a Tyrant.

In fine, said he, as it is not to your great­ness that I give Policrite, I pretend also, that Policrite's virtue, shall supplie the place of a Crown.

[Page 165] But alas, said Philoxypes! how will you give me this Divine Policrite, if we know not where shee is? She must be begg'd of the Gods, replied Solon, since tis from them alone that we are to expect all the good that can befall us.

In fine; sir, Philoxypes conceived an un­expressable joy, to finde Solon so favour­ably disposed towards him. But also his grief was no less extream, to think that Solons good intentions would prove of no use, if Policrite were not found. Yet was he somewhat comforted with the sight of so famous a man, and the conversation of one so perfectly wise, made his sorrow appear at least more moderate, though really it was alwaies very great. Nay, I re­member he told me that notwithstanding all his sadness, he forgot not you, sir, but entertained Solon with the discourse of you, as of a very extraordinarie Perso­nage.

This mean while the King, having heard of Solons arrivall, and how that Poli­crite was his daughter, was exceeding glad, and would have him and Philoxypes to come to Court; so as this Prince his love was no longer so great a secret.

[Page 166] Imagining that Cleanthes was not gone out of the Island, command was sent a­gain to all the Towns and Vilages, to give an account of what strangers lived in them, but do what they could, they could learn no acceptable news.

This mean while the Court grew very melancholy; for Princess Aretaphile, not able to put on a resolution of pardoning the King, the King by an odd phansie of Love, resolved also to winne this Prin­cess her heart, before he would assure her to make her his Queen.

Philoxypes on his part was mad to think he could not finde out Policrite, and that he had been the cause why Solon had lost her: and Solon was also very sad that hee could hear no newes of his daughter; e­specially at a time when he vvas of neces­sitie to return to Athens, where he had learned that there was great disorders, and that all things tended towards Sediti­on.

He knevv that there vvere three seve­rall Factions there: that one Licurgus vvas chief of those that inhabited the plains; that Megacles, sonne to Alcmeon, commanded over those of the sea coast, [Page 167] and that Pisistrates, whom certainly you knew when you went to Athens, was chief of the mountaineers. So as though all that numerous people had punctually observed his Laws, since his departure, yet the face of affairs was likely soon to alter.

Solon being then necessitated to be gone within a few daies, told Philoxypes, That the interest of a mans country, was to be preferd before all things else: and that he who chose rather to conceal his daughter, then to expose her to the love of a Tyrant, would not abandon his Countrey, to expect in vain to hear of one whom certainly the Gods would preserve if she were worthy of their care; so as he had no more to do, then give him full leave to marry her if he should finde her; Philoxypes being at that same time both much afflicted, and much joyed; thankt Solon for the honour he did him; but the winde not serving for his depar­ture, and his ship not being ready, he must have patience for a while. During this interval of time, Solon understood that there was a famous Temple about some forty miles from Paphos, dedicated as [Page 168] were almost all the rest in the Island, to Venus Urania, where 'twas said this God­dess delighted more to be honour'd, then in any other Temple: because the cu­stom there was, that all the Ceremonies were performed by maids of good dis­cent, who dedicated themselves to the service of that Goddess, and who were to serve her three years in her Temple before they were to marry.

Solon who believed he could not im­ploy the time better, which much against his will, he was to stay in Cyprus, then in praying to the Gods, moved Philoxypes to go thither, who easily gave way thereun­to: so as getting on horseback the next morning and attended but by a few ser­vants, they came to this Temple, which is very delightfully seated.

I know Sir, I should not stay to ac­quaint you with all the Ceremonies of the sacrifice, which upon this occasion was offered for Solon, and Philoxypes; yet it being famous amongst us for what en­sued thereupon, I will crave leave to do it; as also because peradventure, you have not seen the like: For tis a sacrifice which doth not cost the victims lives, but [Page 169] on the contrary, makes them recover their liberty.

This Temple is fairly enough built: the Altar is stately, at the foot whereof, and just in the mid'st, is placed a great candle­stick of Gold with twelve branches, whereon Christal Lamps hung which was all lighted instantly after. Fifty maids, clothed in silver Tiffany, mingled with blew to denote the original of that hea­venly Venus whom they served, having each of them a Coronet of flowers on their head, and sprigs of Myrrh in their hands, rank'd themselves on the two sides of the Temple, she onely excepted who was to perform the Ceremony, who staid in the middle.

At the foot of this golden Candlestick, there was a great Chest or Coffer of the same metal, wherein there was fire which they termed sacred, because it is onely lighted by the agitation of certain stones consecrated to the Goddess: she who offered the sacrifice in the name of Solon, and Philoxypes, put Amber, Frankinsence, Benjamin, and divers other perfumes, in­to this Pile of wood: This being done, and having made a little Pile of the dry [Page 170] boughs of Myrh upon the Altar, she took a Torch made of perfumed wax, where­with she set it on fire, and with the same Torch she lighted fifty others which were placed in sundry parts of the Tem­ple: after this, one of these maids brought two Turtles tied together with threads of gold and blew silk; and be­fore her who carried the Birds, went four other maids singing a Hymn after the Ly­dian manner: after these came four o­thers, bringing with them two Swans ty­ed together with a string of blew and gold, and followed by four more who sung as did the former.

These maids who carryed the Victims, kneeled down before the Altar, which being done, she who did the Ceremony, (to the end that she might not irritate Ve­nus Anadiomena, who had been formerly worshipped in that Temple, by the ho­nour that was done to Venus Urania) took Roses and Cockles, which she strowd upon the Altar, and taking a great shel of the Mother of pearl full of sea water, ta­ken up towards the east, she sprinkled the Victims therewith.

The holy knife, adorned with [Page 171] Orientall Agget, was likewise prepared, as it were to sacrifice them; but the maids who sung continually forbad them in the behalf of Venus Urania, so as shee who carried the Turtles, and the other who carried the Swans, drawing near her who performed the Ceremonie, she un­tied them, and opening one of the win­dows of the Temple, at the same time when they threw new perfumes into the pile of wood, they were lost in that cloud of perfume which arose, and flying to­wards heaven, seemed as if they went to carry up the vows of Solon and Philoxypes, to the Goddess to whom they were offe­red up.

After this, all the maids which were in the Temple, began a Canticle of joy and one of them taking a little Fagot of Myrh, which was bound about with threads of Gold, swept together the ash­es of the little pile, to see whether all were quite consumed or no; for this is one of the tokens that the Sacrifice hath been well received.

In pursuit after this, they went to visit the sacred garden, wherein the Turtles [Page 172] and Swans, destined to the service of the Goddess, are bred up, to see whe­ther those that were offerd up unto her, were returned thither or no: for when this falls not out, tis an infallible obser­vation that the sacrifice hath not been well accepted of, and that the Goddess thinks not those birds pure enough to be presented unto her another time. But as for Solon his Sacrifice, it had all the marks of a happy Sacrifice; the Pile was total­ly consumed, the perfumes mounted streight upright toward the Temples Roof, the birds flew East-ward, and were found in the sacred Garden. In fine, these maids assured Philoxypes and Solon, that their vows were well accepted of by the Goddess; and that they had not of a long time offerd any Sacrifice, which had been so well accepted of.

Having then returned acknowledge­ments to the Divine Urania, these two re­turned to Paphos: Solon did so pleasantly entertain Philoxypes, and said such fine things to him, as not taking heed, he mist the way by which they came. Those who followed them, thought that Philoxypes, who very well knew that way, intended [Page 173] to go som whither that they knew not of, so as they let him go on. Continuing to ride on thus by this by-way, they strayed not onely from the way they were to go, but came at last to a place where there was no beaten track at all: finding them­selves at the Sea side, amongst wilde, and almost inaccessible Rocks, the sight here­of recall'd into Philoxypes memory the de­sart wherein he had found Policrites a­bode.

But at the same time he found that he had lost his way; and that he knew not where he was: yet it appearing delight­full enough unto him, though sandy e­nough, he said to Solon, that continuing to go along the sea side, they should meet with some path which would lead them back into the right way; wherefore they did not return back, but continued on their way; and Philoxypes rode formost, that he might be a guide to those that he had led out of the way.

Being advanced a good way, he might see five or six fishers Cottages, built upon the sea side, and heard the voice of cer­tain women who seemed to bewail some misfortune.

[Page 174] He then mended his pace, not know­ing why the voice of those women had had such an operation in him: and being come near them, he knew Megisto, and Dorida, and found them sorely weeping, and accompanied vvith many other vvo­men, vvho vvept as vvell as they, and vvho not minding him, looked all to­vvards the sea.

He then looked the same vvay they did, vvhere, alas! he might see Policrite, all alone in a little boat floating, vvithout either Oars or Rudder; vvho not knovv­ing vvhat to do, vvas upon her knees praying to Heaven; for though the sea vvent not very high, yet vvas it some­vvhat moved; and moreover, the Rocks bearing back the Waves on that side, and a breath of air blovving from land, the boat vvent still further off.

Philoxypes seeing Polycrite in so great a danger, and not seeing any boat that he might make use of, lighted suddenly off Horseback, and threvv himself into the Water, svvimming streight tovvards Po­licrite.

So as vvhen Solon, vvho vvas a little behind, vvas come to the sea shore, you [Page 175] may easily imagine hovv much he vvas surprized to see Megisto covered vvith tears, Policrite all alone in a boat, vvhich the Waves bore tovvards the full sea, and Philoxypes svvimming tovvards Policrite; but he vvas so far from her, as it vvas to be believed that (the boat floating still forward) his strength might fail him be­fore he could get up to her; and that So­lon might see his dear daughter perish in his sight, as also a Prince whom he loved no less then her.

To tell you also how strangely asto­nish'd Megisto was, to see Philoxypes throw himself into the sea, and presently after to see Solon come, is not a thing easily done. Nor yet to set forth Policrites thoughts, vvhen she knevv Philoxypes, and savv him in so great danger for her sake.

This gallant personage told us not­vvithstanding aftervvards, that she no sooner knevv him, but the object of her vovvs altered; and that ceasing to think on her ovvn danger, all her prayers vvere poured forth for Philoxypes. This mean vvhile Solon vvas upon the shore vvith Megisto, vvhose minde vvas not [Page 176] then at liberty enough to tell him how this misfortune hapned, telling him one­ly that Policrite was lost.

And to say truth, I think that upon this encounter, Solons wisdom was put to a greater tryal, then ever it had been: and that it was much more easie for him to refuse a Crown, then to see Policrite and Philoxypes in the danger they were in, without giving apparent tokens of di­spair.

Yet this famous man kept himself with­in the lawful bounds of sorrow; and not doing any thing unworthy of himself, did notwithstanding, feel what ever pains a tender and generous soul could suffer under.

This mean while though Philoxypes was but lightly clad, for the spring was already very hot in our Island, he could not swim with that facility as he might have done, had he been naked; so as Po­licrites boat driving still away, he could not get up unto it.

One might see this young maid use some bootless endeavors to stay this lit­tle boat, but twas impossible for her to do it: nay, she did things which she her [Page 177] self knew were of no avail, yet could not keep from doing them.

One might likewise observe Philoxypes to strive to his utmost, & then he seemed to be ready to perish through weariness. But at last being got near the boat, some­times one might see the boat driven near unto him by one Wave, and sometimes born from him by another; for it went too and fro with the wind.

It was so near him as he might hear Po­licrites voice, not being able to answer her, so much was he out of breath with swimming.

Sir, said she, Let me perish; do you re­turn to the shore: and strive not boot­lesly to save me.

You may imagine whether so obliging a command did not oblige Philoxypes to redouble his forces. At last, Sir, after that Solon had seen the Waves rise up more then once, ready to over-turn the boat, and swallow up Philoxypes, who was now able to do no more, a great Wave having driven the boat towards him, he luckily laid hold of the rope whereby it was fastened formerly to the Sea bank.

You may imagine, Sir, what Philoxypes [Page 178] joy was then, as likewise what that of Po­licrite, Solon, Megisto, Dorida, and the other women that were upon the shore; they all shouted for joy.

Yet was it not yet time to rejoice; For though it be not hard to guide a floating boat, yet Philoxypes was so weary, as there was reason to dispair of his ever accom­plishing what he had so happily begun: he was seen to sink twice under water, yet never quit the rope which he had in his hand. Think sir, how great Policrites greif was then, and with how many tears she repaid the pains he took to save her. One might observ this Amorus Prince do two contrary things; for he would look back upon the shore, that he might the sooner bring back his Dear Policrite thither; and somtimes believing he should perish without saving her, he would at least have the contentment of seeing her at his last gasp.

He looked thus, sometimes towards the shore, sometimes on Policrite: and things were in this condition; when Phi­loxypes and Solons servants, who tarryed a good way behinde by reason of some ac­cident which had befallen one of their [Page 179] horses, were come up, amongst which was one of Philoxypes his gentlemen, who being skilful in swimming, threw himself instantly into the Water, and helped his dear Master to guide Policrite back unto the shore, where this Prince was no soo­ner arrived, but that his force failing him he swounded.

Tis needless to tell you what So­lon, Megisto, and all the rest that were on the shore, did to aide him. As for Policrite, shee was so surprized and so afflicted to see what condition Phi­loxypes was in, as she was not sensible of the joy of having escaped so great a dan­ger: but at last, after having carried Phi­loxypes into one of those little Huts, and having by the means they used, brought him to life again, and dryed his apparrel, he asked where Policrite was? whom So­lon brought to him out of a little cham­ber whither she had retired her self, though she had not yet perfectly shook off the fear she had been in of her self, and of Philoxypes.

But at last all being retired that were in that little hut, save Megisto, Policrite, Dorida, Philoxypes, and Solon. Solon desired [Page 180] Megisto to tell him, why she had quitted the little abode which he had caused be built for her? wherefore she was come to this place, and where Cleanthes was? Wherefore they had left no order to ac­quaint him with their removal? and how this last misfortune had befallen Policrite? But, said he, sister, speak freely without any wise disguising the truth. For Prince Philoxypes knows I am your brother, that Policrite is my daughter: and I know also that he does her the honour to love her; therefore conceal nothing for his respect, for he hath now a deeper share in Poli­crite, then I have, since I have given her to him; and that he may now lay a new claim unto her, by having saved her life.

I leave you to imagine, Sir, how Poli­crite was surprized to know that she was Solons daughter, whom she knew to be a great and excellent man, but whom she knew not to be her father; and to know at the same time that shee was bestowed on Phyloxypes; she blush'd, but with a great deal of modesty: and looking up­on Megisto, as if she would ask her whe­ther it were true or no that she was Solons daughter? she confirmed her in that be­lief; [Page 181] and afforded her leasure so to con­found the joy she had to see Philoxypes a­gain, with that of her knowing her self to be daughter to so famous a man, as no­thing appeared in her countenance but what so great an honour might cause in her.

Philoxypes beginning then to speak, said as obliging things to Solon in Policrites behalfe, as in his own; and Megisto was somewhile before she could satisfie her Brothers curiosity. But at last she told him, That knowing the love Prince Phi­loxypes bore to Policrite she had thought it fitting to acquaint Policrite onely, that she was more then what she took her self to be, to the end she might know how to treat Philoxypes with more indifferency; and that she might think her self the less obliged to him for his affection: That Cleanthes and she, having observed that this had produced a contrary effect in Po­licrite, and Prince Philoxypes having shew­ed much passion in the last visit which he made them, she confest the ones worth, and the others youth had caused some ap­prehension in her: that in pursuit here­of, knowing that the King was at Claria, [Page 182] and fearing least Philoxypes might speak to him of Policrites beauty, she had advi­sed Cleanthes to quit his abode, which in effect they had done, and were come to this little Maretine hamlet where Clean­thes was acquainted with an old Fisher­man, who had left them his hut, being himselfe gone to live with a son of his: that they had left a young Slave at their former place of abode, with direction, That if Solon should come thither, he should wish him to come the first day of the next ensuing moon to a Temple which they named unto him, where Cle­anthes would not fail to be on the same days to meet him when he should come thither.

That since that time, Cleanthes had learnt by the Priest of the little Temple which was near their former abode, that this Slave was dead; so as knovving that the time of Solons return drevv near, Cle­anthes resolved to go live himself alone at Paphos, knovving that vvhen he should return to Cyprus, he vvould not fail to vvait upon the King, and so he could not miss of him; to vvhich purpose he was gone thither that very morning: that Po­licrite, [Page 183] who had no better pastime, espe­cially since they had left their former abode, then to draw every day some­thing or other upon her Tablebooks: seeing all the fisher men were gone from their little hamlet, leaving no boat behinde them, save that wherein they had seen her, and wherein there was nei­ther Rudder nor Oare, sate down in it, and not minding whether it were well fastened to the shore or no, was designing forth that little rural float of boats which went still further from her: that she was so attentive to her work in hand, that as she her self had told them, she did not perceive the boat wherein she was, was loosened from the land, and went float­ing as the winds blew it: so as said Megisto, coming forth to look after Polycrite, I saw her in the posture I have told you, and skreek'd out so loud, as I made her perceiv the danger she was in, not being able to help her, there not being one man left it the whole Ham let; and all the fisher boa, having already doubled a Cape of land whereby we lost sight of them.

Megisto having ended her relation, Solon gan admire the Providence of the Gods [Page 184] in the guidance of worldly things; and considering that unless Philoxipes and he had lost their way, Policrite in all ap­pearance had been lost, he could not sufficiently praise the Goddess, who had so well receiv'd his sacrifice; in effect, this Temple of Venus Urania, hath got much renown by this adventure. But Sir! to abuse your patience no longer, I will only tell you, that instead of going to Paphos, Philoxypes and Solon went the next day to Claria, whether they brought Megisto, Policrite, Dorida, and all the wo­men that attended them, after that Phi­loxypes had largely rewarded all the fish­ermens wives for their Hospitality and curtesie shewed to Policrite. To tell you how great Philoxypes and Policrites joy was, would be no easie matter, and to relate unto you in what terms this happie Lover exprest his satisfaction to Policrite, and with what an obliging mo­desty she received the testimony of his affection, and gave him some marks of hers, would be to undertake to diffi­cult a task. For to learn in one and the same day, that she was daughter to the so Illustrious Solon, and that she was to [Page 185] be wife to Philoxypes, were two things wherewith her soul was divided. Philo­xypes failed not to shew Policrite her pi­ctures in his Gallery, which though rare­ly handsome, came much short of her. The next day Solon sent to enquire out Cleanthes at Paphos, where he was found and brought to Claria. Necessary order being taken for it, Cleanthes, Megisto, Poli­crite, and Dorida, had cloathes made an­swerable to their condition.

The next morning the princess of Sa­lamis, and the Princess Agherista, be­ing advertised by their brother Philoxy­pes of the truth of his adventure: these two fair Princesses, I say, who loved him dearly, who had learned Policrytes illu­strious birth by this advertisement, and who did reverence Solon as a God, went to Claria, to conduct this beautiful crea­ture to Paphos.

But good Gods! how they were sur­prized with her extream beauty, compa­ring which with her Pictures they found her to exceed them far; but if she appear­ed fair unto them, she seemed yet more spiritual.

She had somwhat in her of admirable [Page 186] modesty, which having nothing in it of Rustick, rendred her yet more pleasing: she had a soul doubtlesly, fraught with all that innocency which shee had pre­served amidst those Rocks: but withall a minde and humour wherein were all the Charms which the Court could af­ford.

For Megisto being rightly Solons sister, knew as wel as any one what was requisit in, and did necessarily become those of her Sex, and had perfectly instructed Policrite therein.

Young Dorida appeared also to be ve­ry fair, and lovely at the Court, where the King received Solon, Cleanthes, Me­gisto, Philoxypes, and Policrite, with un­expressable joy and honor. And this so much the more, as that being at last, re­solved to content Princess Aretaphi­les Ambition, that so he might satis­fie his own Love, had made her be told the day before, that it should be her fault if she were not Queen.

But if Aretaphile were Queen of Cy­prus, Policrite was the Queen of Beauty; none but the Princess of Salamis could any ways dispute that glorious Empire [Page 187] with her. In fine, Sir, there was nothing heard of now, but feasts and rejoycing. Solon being of necessity to be gon, they hasted the cōsummation of these famous marriages: The King would have one Ceremony serve for them both; nor did Cyprus ever see any thing of more glo­rious, though it were done with preci­pitation. Solon called then to minde E­pimenides his predictions, and confest there was somewhat of Divine in that holy man. But his Countries interest prevailing more with him, then vvhatso­ever other interests, he departed for A­thens, so as some tears of sorrovv did for a vvhile a little allay Policrite's Joy; but to comfort her, young Dorida vvas left vvith her, vvhen Cleanthes and Megisto imbarkt themselves with Solon. This was the condition Sir, wherein this great man left the Court of Cyprus: to vvit, the King highly content: Queen Areta­phile as highly satisfied, and Philoxypes and Policrite so happie, as vvishes could not add thereunto.