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<DATE>2012-07-xx</DATE>
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<NAME>Greg Schutz</NAME>
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<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1">
<P>Aloi&s;ia, OR, THE AMOURS OF OCTAVIA <HI>Engli&s;hed.</HI></P>
<P>To which is adjoyned the Hi&s;to|ry of Madam <HI>du Tillait,</HI> both di&s;|playing the Subtilties of the Fair Sex.</P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed for <HI>Jacob Ton&s;on,</HI> at the <HI>Judges Head</HI> in <HI>Chancery-Lane,</HI> near <HI>Fleet-Street,</HI> 1681.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="to the reader">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>TO THE READER.</HEAD>
<P>WE must confe&s;s Love is of &s;o &s;ubtle and ingeni|ous a Nature, that it ea&s;ily finds ways to effect its Ends, when it has any De|&s;ign of rendring it &s;elf Ma&s;ter of any Heart. In effect we &s;ee very few e&s;cape, upon whom it hath made any Enterpri&s;e, which it &s;eldom does unle&s;s certain be|fore
<PB REF="3">of Victory; they who re&s;i&s;t and lay any Obstacle in its way, being tho&s;e who commonly feel the effects of it mo&s;t violently.</P>
<P>There are in the World two &s;orts of People who displea&s;e me most of all; the first of them are Painters, who not having been skil|ful enough to invent or to compo&s;e Colours lively enough, wherewith to draw Eyes for <HI>Cupid,</HI> have taken a Phancy to repre&s;ent him blind to us, and they value them|&s;elves for giving occa&s;ion to a common, but fal&s;e Proverb, that
<PB REF="3"><HI>Love is blind.</HI> It &s;eems to me more rea&s;onable to &s;ay, that the Cloth with which they blindfold him, &s;erves rather for a covering for their Ignorance, &s;ince with all their Endeavours they have not been able to make Eyes for any Deity, which could come near the Vivacity, Splendour, or <HI>Eclat,</HI> with which his ought to appear. For if (as the Ignorant would per&s;wade us) he did not &s;ee at all; how could he have &s;ubjected to him&s;elf &s;o many as live now un|der his Laws; could he without
<PB REF="4">Eyes have enlarged his Empire over the whole Earth? We &s;ee his Conquests are without Number or Bounds; be&s;ides I know that where he would in&s;inuate him&s;elf, he makes greate&s;t u&s;e of the Eyes of one Object to inflame another, which he would not do, did he not know that the Eyes were of all the Sen&s;es the mo&s;t &s;u&s;ceptible, becau&s;e they are the first, which di&s;cover. There mu&s;t be know|ledge of it in him, this Know|ledge cannot be acquired without Study, and what means are there
<PB REF="4">for one blind to become Learned, when the most nece&s;&s;ary of Fa|culties, the &s;ight fails him. It cannot be denied notwith&s;tanding, but that <HI>Cupid</HI> is learned, &s;ince we &s;ee by dayly experience that he confounds the mo&s;t &s;olid of Rea&s;ons, and that no body can enter into di&s;pute with him with|out being certain to be wor&s;ted. It is ju&s;t therefore to defend him from the wrong which is en|deavoured to be done to him by taking away the chiefe&s;t of his Ornaments.</P>
<PB REF="5">
<P>The &s;eeond &s;ort of men I hate, are a &s;ort of particular per|&s;ons who make a nece&s;sity of what is mere accident: I mean tho&s;e People who will have it to be an infallible thing, that Fortune is ne|ver &s;een in the &s;ame place with de&s;ert. I know very well that they dwell rarely in the &s;ame &s;ub|ject. But in fine it is ill, to think to take that for indispen&s;ably ne|ce&s;&s;ary, which is only the effect of Chance. It is true, that one hap|pens much oftner than the other, for we &s;ee &s;ome to whom the
<PB REF="5">name of Merit, has, not had &s;o much as acce&s;s, toward whom notwith&s;tanding Fortune has been lavi&s;h; and on the contrary, o|thers who have merited all things yet have had nothing. But after all, there are to be found, tho&s;e who po&s;&s;e&s;s both, there being this difference between them, that tho&s;e who have merit, find within them&s;elves content. For a man of &s;en&s;e ought to con&s;ider that it is more honourable not to have what one de&s;erves, than to po&s;&s;e&s;s what one does not de&s;erve; and it is
<PB REF="6">in this manner that he enjoys all things, and in far a more noble manner, when he even wants eve|ry thing; whereas he who has eve|ry thing he wi&s;hes for, enjoys no|thing unle&s;s he enjoy him&s;elf, o|therwi&s;e it being but an imagi|nary or vi&s;ionary Po&s;&s;e&s;sion, whereof he never ta&s;ts the true good, being naturally unworthy of it. As for tho&s;e who have both, we may &s;ay, if they have more happine&s;s, it is only with the Vulgar, &s;ince as I have &s;aid For|tune contributes nothing to the fe|licity
<PB REF="6">of a great Courage, and he ought to borrow from none but him|&s;elf to make him&s;elf truly happy; I come back to my Theam, and advance to convince tho&s;e vi&s;ibly whom I have undertaken, that there are &s;everal who have extra|ordinary Merits to whom Fortune hath al&s;o been favourable, which the following Relation will not a little Illu&s;trate.</P>
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<DIV1 N="aloisia" TYPE="text">
<PB REF="7">
<PB N="1" REF="7">
<HEAD>ALOISIA: OR, The Amours OF OCTAVIA.</HEAD>
<P>THe ea&s;ie Humour of ma|ny Husbands, and the freedom of Acce&s;s to be had with an infinite number of fine Women, rendred <HI>Paris</HI> one of the mo&s;t polli&s;ht and agreeable Cities of the World. It was but being of an Amorous Temper, and a man was certain to lead a happy Life, and if in the beginning any Lover happened to
<PB N="2" REF="8">be cro&s;&s;ed in his Pa&s;&s;ion, his Mi|&s;tre&s;s would be &s;ure not to leave him any longer in his Affliction than it was nece&s;&s;ary to make him have the more relli&s;h of the &s;weet of being beloved; The greate&s;t Beauties did not &s;corn this Artifice of ingaging their Gallants fa&s;ter to them; <HI>Octavia</HI> alone was Enemy to all the&s;e little Amorous tricks, confe&s;&s;ing ingenuou&s;ly that no|thing was &s;o trouble&s;ome to her as a Lover who was three days without declaring his Pa&s;&s;ion, and to whom &s;he &s;hould be forced to make the advances; for &s;he loved to have him free and open, never to hide any thing from her, not even his weakne&s;&s;es, and if he felt any Amorous motion &s;tirred up by her he &s;hould let her know it in the &s;ame moment. But before I &s;peak of the Amours of this free hearted Lady, let me de&s;cribe her
<PB N="3" REF="8">Per&s;on to you. The &s;hape of her Face is an irregular Oval, her Eyes are gray, and her look with them very la&s;civious, her Mouth too wide, but of a fine colour, her Forehead little, her No&s;e long and lean, her Chin picked, her Teeth very white, her Hands dry, hard and ugly, upon which one may di&s;cover the lea&s;t Vein, her Hair is of a che&s;nut colour, and curled in great Curls, and her Complexion &s;mooth, and &s;ometimes very good; &s;he is for &s;hape little, and Arched, and the many &s;hocks her body has endured makes it have no firm Si|tuation, it balancing from one &s;ide to the other upon her Hips; as for the skin of her Neck and her Brea&s;ts it is incomparable, and it may be very well &s;aid of her that &s;he hides what is fine&s;t about her, and that happy are her Lovers who have liberty to &s;ee all her
<PB N="4" REF="9">Beauties. Yet I have often heard them complain, that in the lea&s;t heat this fine Body &s;ends forth a &s;mell, which is not &s;o plea&s;ing to the No&s;e, as the Body is to the o|ther Sen&s;es; She always takes great care to have her Shoes and Stockings well put on, the Silk &s;tockings &s;he wears are always drawn up half way her Thigh, and her Garters are very neatly tyed; no Woman takes &s;o much care to carry her Feet well as &s;he; As for her Mind, &s;he has a great deal of Life, but little Judgment, and very wild, her Humour is haughty, jilting, malitious, and jealous, &s;he is not able to endure the Care&s;&s;es are made to other Women (as if &s;he had where|withal to content all Mankind:) It is enough to be hand&s;om to be her Enemy, &s;he &s;peaks continually ill of the prettie&s;t, and invents all
<PB N="5" REF="9">ways po&s;&s;ible to give ill Impre&s;&s;i|ons of them; She has no &s;mall kindne&s;s for Money, and the mo&s;t beloved of her Gallants are not al|ways the hand&s;ome&s;t, nor tho&s;e who have mo&s;t Merit, but the greate&s;t liberallity; and if there happen to be any one that does not leave &s;ometimes upon her Ta|ble a Looking Gla&s;s, a Necklace of Pearl, or &s;ome other fine thing, he is looked upon with le&s;s tenderne&s;s than the others.</P>
<P><HI>Octavia,</HI> although &s;uch a one as I have de&s;cribed, at her fir&s;t begin|ning to receive Company, or her fir&s;t Entrance into the World, had notwith&s;tanding, a great crowd of Adorers, and &s;ome of the chiefe&s;t and han&s;ome&s;t of the young men of <HI>Paris</HI> (where &s;he then lived) who were &s;o well mannaged by her, that &s;he did not loo&s;e one; But <HI>Cleander</HI> was mo&s;t kindly re|ceived,
<PB N="6" REF="10">and mo&s;t loved by her, this Lover by the officious care he had of giving her often changes of Trimmings, had made a won|derful progre&s;s in her heart, be|&s;ides he was not the wor&s;t made in the World, his &s;hape was very neat and well &s;et, his meen very pa&s;&s;able, but his Complexion ex|ceeding &s;warthy, his Eyes rough, his Mouth big, and wide from Ear to Ear, a great quantity of Hair curled in large Curles, he was wit|ty, quick, undertaking and capa|ble of great things; a little too much a bragger, and one of tho&s;e Huffs, who think one mu&s;t be bru|ti&s;h, and pa&s;&s;ionate, and quarrel every one he meets, to be thought a man of Courage, his mo&s;t vio|lent Pa&s;&s;ion is for Women, and he gives him&s;elf wholly up to them: This did not a little ha&s;ten the ef|fecting his De&s;ign upon the heart
<PB N="7" REF="10">of <HI>Octavia,</HI> he obtained an abun|dance of &s;mall favours from her, and received all the &s;igns of a ten|der Pa&s;&s;ion: but he having no thoughts of Marriage, valued only the &s;olid plea&s;ures of Love; One day he went and finding her alone, after having made &s;ome Pre&s;ent according to his Cu&s;tom, he knelt down upon the ground with one Knee, and taking her hand, he ki&s;&s;ed it &s;everal times, and &s;poke thus to her: <HI>You tell me you love me better than all Mankind be&s;ides; but what &s;igns have you ever given me of this tender Friend&s;hip, that can make me think my &s;elf happier than any other of my Rivals? They &s;ee you as well as I, they have your leave to di&s;cover their pa&s;&s;ions to you, they &s;igh in your pre&s;ence, and in fine I cannot make one &s;tep be|fore you which I do not &s;ee them i|mitate. You would notwith&s;tanding
<PB N="8" REF="11">have me per&s;wade my &s;elf by an im|plicite Faith, that I am happier in your heart than they are; Oh Ma|dam, Madam, do not di&s;&s;emble; Had you that Love for me which you pre|tend, you would ea&s;ily have made me (before this time) &s;en&s;ible of it by more pre&s;&s;ing and &s;tronger proofs. Nature is not &s;o unkind to the fair, as not to have endowed them with &s;tronger Links, whereby to keep their Pri&s;oner longer in their Chains; &s;he has di&s;tributed among&s;t them ine&s;ti|mable Trea&s;ures with which they may reward Con&s;tancy and Fidelity. The&s;e are the mo&s;t &s;olid Evidences by which you can let me know the dif|ference you make between other men and my &s;elf; you may very well think my Di&s;cretion will never &s;uffer &s;uch a Secret to come out of my Mouth, and that I would rather have my life torn from me than di&s;cover it;</HI> in concluding his Di&s;cour&s;e, he ven|tured
<PB N="9" REF="11">with the greate&s;t amorous Tran&s;port imaginable, to &s;lip up his hand towards that place, which it is more natural to touch, than mode&s;t to name. Hold, hold, re|plied <HI>Octavia</HI> (giving him &s;uch a manner of repul&s;e, that he perceiv|ed &s;he was not much di&s;obliged by his way of proceeding) you go on &s;trangely fa&s;t, and do not con&s;ider the ill effects which would follow: If I &s;hould conde&s;cend to what you would have me, to what a mi|&s;erable condition &s;hould I be re|duc'd, if by the &s;hameful and al|mo&s;t inevitable Effects, what I had done for you &s;hould come to be known? All the World would look me out of countenance, and I &s;hould after &s;uch an Infamy be|come the &s;corn of tho&s;e who at pre&s;ent &s;eek after me with a vio|lent Pa&s;&s;ion, for Marriage. I know very well Honour is but a Whim|zy,
<PB N="10" REF="12">a fine Phancy which has been invented to keep tho&s;e of our Sex within the bounds of duty; but they are &s;uch Phancyes (though perfectly Vi&s;ionary) as we are ob|liged to run after for &s;ome time if we will live happy. When we are ingaged in Marriage, our &s;hame is then le&s;s becau&s;e it has more &s;harers, we have then liber|ty to do what we plea&s;e, &s;ince we have a Cloak to cover all di&s;or|ders; and having no witne&s;&s;es, no|thing is &s;poken but by weak Gue&s;|&s;es, wherefore we can then look upon what ever can be &s;aid of it, as only Malice and Lies; It will be in that time that we &s;hall live hap|py (my Dear <HI>Cleander</HI>) and that by a wonderful Art we &s;hall unite more &s;trongly our Souls and Hearts. <HI>Schelicon</HI> the Doctour you know (to whom without doubt by rea|&s;on of his great &s;tupidity I &s;hall be
<PB N="11" REF="12">able to give what fold I plea&s;e) vi|&s;its me very often, &s;hewing the greate&s;t eagerne&s;s po&s;&s;ible to mar|ry me, and his Fortune is too con|&s;iderable to be refu&s;ed. This makes me humour him that I may be the &s;ooner his Wife, and con&s;e|quently have the more liberty to be yours. What Madam, replied <HI>Cleander,</HI> do you intend to come &s;oiled with the ki&s;&s;es of a &s;tupid Brute, and offer me the reliques of his bruti&s;hne&s;s; can you want wit to that degree as to &s;uffer &s;uch an Original to gather the fir&s;t Flowers of your Youth and of your Love? and will you prefer him before me?</P>
<P>No, no, replied <HI>Octavia,</HI> I know very well what difference to make between him and you, and I pro|mi&s;e you that I will give you a randezvous, when the Marriage is ju&s;t upon the point of concluding,
<PB N="12" REF="13">which &s;hall a&s;&s;ure you of my Per|&s;on as well as my Heart. <HI>Cleander</HI> pre&s;&s;ed her extremely upon the &s;ame Subject all the remaining time of their Conver&s;ation, and told her that he had admirable Re|ceits to prevent the evil &s;he fear|ed: but all he could &s;ay was un|&s;ucce&s;sful, and he was forced at la&s;t to build all his hopes upon the promi&s;es &s;he had made to him.</P>
<P>She after this Adventure dealt &s;o cunningly with <HI>Schelicon,</HI> and got his e&s;teem and heart &s;o wittily, that he thought the happine&s;s of his Life depended upon marrying &s;o fine and &s;o vertuous a Maid, and thought he ought not to lo&s;e one moment in ha&s;tning to po&s;&s;e&s;s &s;o great a Trea&s;ure; he met with no great Ob&s;tacle, for her Parents who knew her to be of a wild and giddy Inclination, were glad to be di&s;charged of her into the hands
<PB N="13" REF="13">of the Doctour, and were ea&s;ily brought to con&s;ent to have it ac|compli&s;hed in few days. The hearing of this good News did not a little rejoyce <HI>Octavia,</HI> her mind being &s;o plea&s;ed with it, that &s;he could not contain from giving <HI>Cle|ander</HI> notice of it by the following Letter.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<HEAD><HI>Octavia</HI> to <HI>Cleander.</HI></HEAD>
<P>SChelicon <HI>is to marry me very &s;uddainly: but Ju&s;t Heaven, how little rea&s;onable are we to ingage our &s;elves to do any thing. I trem|ble, my Dear, when I think you &s;hould remember what I have pro|mi&s;ed to you. I mu&s;t confe&s;s to you ingenuou&s;ly, that if I were &s;o unhap|py as to &s;ee you, late this Night in my Chamber, &s;ummoning me accord|ing
<PB N="14" REF="14">to my promi&s;e, I am &s;o &s;trict an ob&s;erver of my Word, that I &s;hould without doubt grant you what I have promi&s;ed: I conjure you therefore do not come, and I &s;hall always own that obligation to you which you will de|&s;erve by it.</HI></P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>Octavia.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</LETTER>
<P><HI>Cleander</HI> ea&s;ily under&s;tood the meaning of the Letter, and &s;oon perceived his Mi&s;tre&s;s would that Night crown his Wi&s;hes: &s;o that without giving any An&s;wer, he &s;tayed with &s;uch an impatience, as &s;uch a Lover as he mu&s;t needs have, expecting the coming of happy Night, that by means of its darkne&s;s he might go into her Lodgings unperceived. He was skilful in the&s;e Affairs, and found out his time &s;o well that he per|formed what he had de&s;igned, and
<PB N="15" REF="14">found her alone in her Chamber; he lo&s;t no time having &s;o fair an opportunity, and by a thou&s;and lit|tle freedoms he took, he wakened in her heart a &s;ecret motion which made her change colour &s;everal times: he follows his Point, takes his advantages of her weakne&s;s, and loo&s;ed to Action &s;ome thing more powerful, which &s;he could not re&s;i&s;t, and this Amorous Lady found her &s;elf at la&s;t forced to yield up her Arms and Life in a &s;weet Amorous Langui&s;hment to her Conquerour; &s;he came often again to hand with him, and as long as <HI>Cleander</HI> had any vigour or &s;trength left, this Combate was continued; &s;he never cea&s;ed, &s;aying all Night long, that Man was a &s;trangely well contrived Creature, and that &s;he &s;aw nothing in the World which equall'd him in Merit; &s;he did nothing but contemplate with
<PB N="16" REF="15">the greate&s;t curio&s;ity what Nature had endowed him with more than her, and foundin him nothing but Subjects of Admiration &amp; Plea&s;ure; the Joy which &s;he had received in all the Attacks which her Lover had performed with &s;uch Honour, made her &s;ollicite &s;till for more, &s;he &s;eeming to gather new &s;trength by the failure of his; It was not &s;o with poor <HI>Cleander,</HI> he was per|fectly exhau&s;ted, and his &s;trength failed him, he was willing to enter the Li&s;ts again, but a Law of Na|ture full of cruelty forbad him to proceed: which <HI>Octavia</HI> ob&s;erving, and expecting no further &s;atisfa|ction from him, &s;he had him con|ducted out of her Lodgings with the lea&s;t noi&s;e and mo&s;t &s;ecrecy &s;he could; as &s;oon as day began to appear, &s;he went afterwards to Bed, where &s;he remained all that day, pretending to have &s;ome &s;light
<PB N="17" REF="15">Indi&s;po&s;ition upon her.</P>
<P><HI>Schelicon</HI> made appear all the weakne&s;s of a tran&s;ported Lover, when he learnt the news of this pretended &s;ickne&s;s, he cried and howled in the hideou&s;e&s;t manner in the World, and &s;tamping with his feet again&s;t the Ground, he lifted his Eyes to Heaven in &s;o di&s;|agreeable and &s;o fanta&s;tical a way, that far from moving any that &s;aw him, it was impo&s;&s;ible for them to keep from laughing. No matter were he ten times a greater block|head, he is wi&s;ht for for a Husband, and if he know what it is not to be a burthen to a Wife all Night, he &s;hall be received with open Arms, without being inquired in|to for any thing el&s;e; <HI>Octavia</HI> has a mind to be &s;atisfied in that Point, and know what he is worth; for this rea&s;on &s;he re-a&s;&s;umes her for|mer health, and puts her &s;elf into
<PB N="18" REF="16">a condition to receive him for a Husband on the day appointed. The Marriage being accompli&s;hed, both &s;tay only for the plea&s;ures that expected them at Night, not giving any heed at all to any Day-Diver&s;ions.</P>
<P><HI>Octavia</HI> by an affected blu&s;h counterfeits the mode&s;t &s;hamefa|ced Maid, and &s;ays &s;he had rather die than pa&s;s a Night with a Man, whil&s;t <HI>Schelicon</HI> pu&s;hed on by his Pa&s;&s;ion alone &s;eizes her with vio|lence, and throwing him&s;elf brisk|ly into her Arms, after having made her cry out &s;ome moments by rea&s;on of the pains &s;he preten|ded to endure, rowling langui&s;h|ing Eyes, and lo&s;ing her Voyce, &s;he became unmoveable, and pre|tended to &s;woon away. The poor Husband thinks her already dead, and fancies &s;o tender an Age was not able to endure &s;uch fierce At|tacks,
<PB N="19" REF="16">he does all he can to bring her out of the &s;woon: But Vine|gar, and all he could put in her Mouth was not able to recover her; he thinks therefore to have re|cour&s;e to the Surgeon, and to that intent calls his Man, but &s;he in that moment &s;eem'd to come to her &s;elf, and recovering the u&s;e of her &s;en&s;es, &s;he cries out to him (laying her hand negligently upon him) My Dear Heart, what a naughty man you are, you have made me endure more than ever I did in my Life before; he asked her par|don, and &s;eemed to be much trou|bled, telling her that the&s;e were only the fir&s;t Cro&s;&s;es of a Married Life; but that &s;he &s;hould have as much plea&s;ure hereafter, as &s;he had &s;uffered pain now; &s;he was very well plea&s;ed with him the fir&s;t Night, although one mu&s;t be of a &s;trange ta&s;te to relli&s;h him,
<PB N="20" REF="17">for he is very corpulent, of an ill &s;hape, and abominably big, a great pretender to Je&s;ts, but without any Wit, all his plea&s;ure is to play up|on Husbands for their jealous hu|mours. In his Face there appears nothing but &s;tupidity and bruti&s;h|ne&s;s, and who&s;oever ob&s;erves his Actions will find in them all the in&s;tinct of a Bea&s;t under the &s;hape of a Man; he has a Heart which is little, ba&s;e, and capable of all &s;orts of weakne&s;s; but as for his Liver it lies bravely great, and all the reputation he has acquired, is to be accounted the greate&s;t Eater in the Country; he would have People think him a Learned Man, but tho&s;e who are well acquainted with him know that unle&s;s he had the Sciences by Infu&s;ion he cannot have acquired any Knowledge in them, &s;ince he hath applied his Mind to nothing but the knowing
<PB N="21" REF="17">when to di&s;card an Ace in good time, whereby to get a Repicque; this may be &s;aid to his advantage, that he is very open and re&s;erves no|thing to him&s;elf, things which are mo&s;t private with others, are mo&s;t publick with him. A Husband thus compo&s;ed, was ju&s;t &s;uch an one as was fit for <HI>Octavia,</HI> he was not trouble&s;ome, and when any Lover made her a Vi&s;it, he (after having thanked him for the honour he did her) quitted the Room out of re&s;pect, and left him alone with his Wife. <HI>Cleander</HI> was one of the fir&s;t who returned to &s;torming of the Place, after Marriage; it was the greate&s;t plea&s;ure in the World to him, to learn from her own Mouth the Art &s;he had u&s;ed to per&s;wade her Husband &s;he had always lived vertuous and cha&s;t. He was ready to die with laugh|ing when &s;he related to him the
<PB N="22" REF="18">perplexity in which the poor Hus|band was by rea&s;on of her pre|tended &s;woon, the ingenious little troubles he had given him&s;elf to bring her to her &s;elf again, and the zeal with which he had asked her pardon for hurting her; &s;he took care not to omit the lea&s;t Circum|&s;tance; and in fine in this and all the other Vi&s;its her Gallant made to her, the Husband was always the Subject of their Mirth; &s;he giving <HI>Cleander</HI> rea&s;on enough to know by the many favours &s;he be&s;towed upon him, that a Wife was much more obliging and ea&s;ie than a Maid.</P>
<P>In the happy Cour&s;e of this Vo|luptuous Life, an unfortunate Ac|cident happened which di&s;turbed the plea&s;ures of the&s;e two Lovers. As <HI>Cleander</HI> one day was come to &s;ee <HI>Octavia,</HI> &s;he brought him into the Hall, where after having
<PB N="23" REF="18">knocked at the door of her Hu&s;|band's Clo&s;et, which was on one &s;ide of the Hall, and called him &s;everal times, without his an&s;wer|ing once (de&s;iring not to be inter|rupted in &s;ome Affairs he was a|bout) &s;he begun to be more confi|dent within her &s;elf, thinking for certain he was not within; &s;o that in this great Liberty &s;he but very gently repul&s;ed the plea&s;ing and &s;trong violences of her Lover, and the re&s;i&s;tance &s;he makes is only to re-inforce his Attacks; he &s;ighs, his Eyes &s;eek hers, to foretel them the plea&s;ures they are ju&s;t going to ta&s;te, his Lips imprint a thou|&s;and Ki&s;&s;es upon her Mouth, and his Hands full of Fire, &s;eize upon her and lay her down upon a Bench that was there. Then with the greate&s;t Tran&s;ports of Love re|entred that Fort, where he had be|fore found a kind Reception. In
<PB N="24" REF="19">the mid&s;t of his Joys he heard a Noi&s;e, and &s;aw <HI>Schelicon</HI> coming out of the Clo&s;&s;et where <HI>Octavia</HI> had knocked; this hindering him from fini&s;hing what he had begun, he goes ha&s;tily out of the Hall, and with &s;o much precipitation, that he had not lei&s;ure to take his Sword with him. <HI>Octavia</HI> in fu|ry immediatly, putting down her Coats, takes it up, and drawing it out of the Scabbard, pre&s;ents it to <HI>Schelicon</HI> with the Point towards her, &s;peaking to him in the&s;e Words: <HI>Pierce, Pierce, a thou&s;and times this Heart which another's Crime would have rendred guilty; and &s;pare not a Mi&s;erable Creature, which Heaven had cho&s;en out to be the infamous object of the mo&s;t horri|ble be&s;tiality whereof Man was ever capable; I de&s;erve Death, &s;ince my fatal Beauty, and my Looks as inno|cent as they are, have been able to
<PB N="25" REF="19">in&s;pire &s;uch ba&s;e and &s;hameful thoughts, and I ought to &s;hed my own blood to wa&s;h another's Crime: But if I may be permitted to &s;ay &s;omething in Ju&s;tification of my &s;elf before I die: Know then that al|though &s;he who has had the honour to be cho&s;en for your Wife be unfor|tunate yet &s;he is innocent and par|takes not at all in the fault of that infamous Fellow. I was &s;itting down upon the Bench, and &s;lept, when at my awaking I found my &s;elf in the hands of in&s;olent</HI> Cleander: <HI>Hea|ven is my witne&s;s, what were my thoughts, &amp; whether the painfulle&s;t of deaths, would not have been more wel|come to me than this Infamy: I threat|ned him to cry out, I cry'd out, got loo&s;e from him, knock'd at your door, call'd you to my help, endeavour'd to avoid his violence; and my Nails imprinted upon his Face the effects of my weak revenge. But all I could
<PB N="26" REF="20">have done Alas, would have been to no purpo&s;e, had not you appeared to re&s;tore to me that honour which this ba&s;e Fellow was ravi&s;hing from me; But why do you delay (dear</HI> Schelicon) <HI>my Death, &s;ince it is the only cure of de&s;perate and generous hearts? Re|venge, Revenge, my Injuries upon</HI> Cle|ander, <HI>I reque&s;t it of you before my Death, and cea&s;e to oppo&s;e my De|&s;igns; that which the Sword has fail|ed of, I will obtain by Poi&s;on. I owe the lo&s;s of my Life to my own reputa|tion: The Ladies of</HI> Paris <HI>can never think I will outlive this Di&s;grace.</HI></P>
<P>In ending her Di&s;cour&s;e &s;he got hold of the Sword &s;he had given to <HI>Schelicon;</HI> and feigned an endeavour to &s;trike it into her Brea&s;t, but he &s;natched it away, &s;peaking thus to her; What are you about to do, Madam, do you think it well, to puni&s;h the Inno|cent for the Crimes of an in&s;olent
<PB N="27" REF="20">guilty Man? Is it to have either generous or rea&s;onable thoughts? Nay, do not you fear God's pu|ni&s;hment upon you for it? Tell me, can you be guilty of the Crimes of another, when your pure Will detects and abhors it? There mu&s;t be con&s;ent to make a Crime, it is in him alone, and that purene&s;s, which remains in the mid&s;t of Corruptions is a &s;acred Oyl which pre&s;erves it &s;elf in frail and impure Ve&s;&s;els? What would you then be contented yet (re|plied <HI>Octavia,</HI> &s;hedding an abun|dance of Tears) to allow &s;o mi&s;e|rable a Creature, the Illu&s;trious Name of your Wife, and can you receive her into your Arms, after having been held in tho&s;e of ano|ther &s;ure you do not think &s;eriou&s;ly that a Wife who&s;e thoughts are &s;o noble and virtuous, can look upon you after this Di&s;grace without
<PB N="28" REF="21">dying of Melancholy?</P>
<P><HI>Schelicon,</HI> after having wiped away her Tears, embraces her, and gives her a thou&s;and Ki&s;&s;es with a more pa&s;&s;ionate fury than ever, whether becau&s;e &s;he looked better than at other times, or for what o|ther rea&s;on, I know not; he examins her, and asks her every little Cir|cum&s;tance of what had happened: whether &s;he had felt any Titillati|on, and if <HI>Cleander</HI> had been in a|ny Exta&s;ie? She a&s;&s;ures him he could not, by rea&s;on of the re&s;i|&s;tance &s;he made. By this A&s;&s;urance he received, he concludes that no|thing of his Copy-hold was touch|ed, and is &s;o well &s;atisfied, that em|bracing her in an Amorous Tran&s;|port, he carries her upon a Bed: Oh! how can you love me, &s;ays &s;he, &s;ince you are &s;o little &s;en&s;ible of what concerns my Honour. No, no, I cannot endure you, and
<PB N="29" REF="21">I have conceived &s;uch a horrour for all Mankind, after &s;uch an Af|front, that I could almo&s;t revenge it upon you. <HI>Schelicon,</HI> without &s;taying to an&s;wer her, made &s;ome|thing intercede in favour of his Love, which &s;he was never in her Life able to re&s;i&s;t, &s;o that he fini&s;h|ed the Work which was left im|perfect by his Wife's Gallant. It is true &s;he behaved her &s;elf &s;o mo|de&s;tly on this occa&s;ion, that &s;he would not (do what he could) be per&s;waded to let him &s;ee her na|ked: She continually putting down her Petticoats, &s;aying, that it was again&s;t the Rules either of Honour or Good Manners for a Wife to &s;atisfie the lu&s;tful looks of a Husband.</P>
<P><HI>Cleander,</HI> who had heard from the next Chamber (where he had remained) what had pa&s;&s;ed be|tween <HI>Schelicon</HI> and his Wife,
<PB N="30" REF="22">tran&s;ported with Fury, as &s;he came into the Room, not minding any thing, came up to her, holding this Di&s;cour&s;e to her: I am then, Ma|dam, that unhappy Victim, you have cho&s;en to have &s;acrificed to your infamous plea&s;ures; you mu&s;t have had one, and you have made the Lot fall upon me; and by an unparallelled exce&s;s of cru|elty, you have made me the Wit|ne&s;s, the Judge, and the Executio|ner of my own Puni&s;hments, your Lips moi&s;t with my Ki&s;&s;es, your Eyes full of Amorous Looks, your Heart full of &s;ighs in my Favour, your Soul rai&s;ed to a noble and di|vine Temper; You go and ca&s;t your &s;elf in my pre&s;ence into the Arms of another, and after that I had kindled a Noble Fire in your Soul, you &s;uffer it to be extingui&s;h|ed by the bea&s;tly and &s;hameful Em|braces of the vile&s;t and ba&s;e&s;t
<PB N="31" REF="22">Men. If you would but &s;u&s;pend (an&s;wered &s;he) <HI>Cleander,</HI> your Re|&s;entments, I &s;hould ea&s;ily make you under&s;tand, that as it was you alone who kindled that Flame in my Heart, you alone quenched it; Is it not true that the Soul is &s;en|&s;ible but of what the Imagination repre&s;ents, and that &s;ince mine was filled in greate&s;t ravi&s;hments of plea&s;ure, with your <HI>Idea,</HI> I may well &s;ay that for you I &s;aw it rai&s;|ed, and for you I &s;aw it die? Oh! replied <HI>Cleander,</HI> when one lends the Body, it is very hard to keep the Soul from following it, that Union being not to be broken without great Violence. Say ra|ther, Madam, that you do not love <HI>Cleander,</HI> that you love only <HI>Man</HI> in him, and he will an&s;wer you, that if ever he has loved you, he dete&s;ts that Love as the mo&s;t un|worthy failing he was ever capable
<PB N="32" REF="23">of in his Life, and that hereafter he will look upon you with as much Horrour and Scorn, as here|tofore you appeared to him to be aimable. Saying the&s;e Words, he went angrily out of the Chamber, not &s;o much as vouch&s;afing to hear what <HI>Octavia</HI> had to &s;ay for her &s;elf: She called him back &s;everal times, and made u&s;e of all the lit|tle Arts with which &s;he u&s;ed to calm the Fury of her Lovers, but without &s;ucce&s;s, for &s;ince that time he would never &s;ee nor hear of her, publi&s;hing all the ills he can of her; &s;he &s;oon comforted her &s;elf for the lo&s;s of him, reflect|ing &s;he could not receive any more of his Vi&s;its without great hazard after what &s;he had &s;aid to <HI>Schelicon</HI> of him: Be&s;ides, he was not of late &s;o liberal as he had been, want|ing money often, but above all the &s;weetne&s;s of variety was a perfect
<PB N="33" REF="23">Cure. There was no long <HI>Inter|regnum,</HI> &s;he quickly got another Gallant, who was in her opinion well worth <HI>Cleander:</HI> He did not indeed <HI>&s;ay</HI> &s;o much, but he did much more; and the happy por|tion which was di&s;tributed to him by Nature held the place both of Wit and De&s;ert. After him came another, and then another; and at la&s;t &s;he ordered matters &s;o that &s;he did not let e&s;cape one young man of any Fa&s;hion in <HI>Paris,</HI> without her being informed of his blind &s;ide, as well as his excellency: Yet this voluptuous Life of hers at la&s;t was publick to all the Town, either by their indi&s;cretion, or by the Satyrical Humour of <HI>Cleander.</HI></P>
<P>In fine &s;he was now look'd upon only with &s;hame &amp; &s;corn, and every little hypocritical Gilt, who&s;e con|duct was as little rea&s;onable as hers, did nothing but talk of her actions,
<PB N="34" REF="24">Rendezvous and A&s;&s;ignations, publi&s;hing with open mouth the di&s;orders of her Life, &s;he began to find &s;he had done enough at <HI>Paris,</HI> and that her Trade was good for nothing when it was profe&s;&s;ed o|penly; &s;o that &s;he prevailed with her Husband to leave it upon &s;ome fal&s;e pretences, and out of &s;ome pretended dome&s;tick Con&s;iderati|ons, which he at length yielded to; not knowing what it was to contra|dict her will, he con&s;ented there|fore to what &s;he had &s;o long &s;olici|ted for, and cho&s;e <HI>Orleance</HI> for his place of Re&s;idence; &s;he preferred this Place before all others, becau&s;e &s;he had heard the young men were as fit for her turn there, as any where in the World.</P>
<P>The very fir&s;t day &s;he came in|to this City, &s;he endeavoured to take other mea&s;ures than &s;he had at <HI>Paris,</HI> and re&s;olved to live after
<PB N="35" REF="24">a different manner, thereby to gain a &s;tock of Reputation and E&s;teem, &s;he made at fir&s;t an acquaintance with tho&s;e Ladies of the Place, which pa&s;&s;ed for the di&s;creete&s;t and mo&s;t vertuous, and by her ea|&s;ine&s;s and plyable temper, got the friend&s;hip of the mo&s;t &s;incere; &s;he counterfeited a &s;everity of vertue to admiration; and would never in any di&s;cour&s;e allow, that there could be in the world any Woman &s;o criminal as to give the lea&s;t un|lawful freedom to a man, and maintained it to be an incredible thing; and pretended to be very much di&s;obliged if any thing was &s;aid in her company liable to an ill con&s;truction, and when ever a|ny &s;uch di&s;cour&s;e happened, &s;he would immediately leave the com|pany with &s;o well &s;eeming a &s;tudi|ed &s;ence of the Affront, that the mo&s;t cunning of her own Sex,
<PB N="36" REF="25">would take her to be in earne&s;t: She put this con&s;traint upon her &s;elf for &s;ome few days, but was &s;oon tired with that way of living, and begun to make it known that &s;omething le&s;s of Reputation and more of plea&s;ure was what &s;he truly de&s;ired. There was not any man in <HI>Orleance</HI> that had yet ad|ventured to make an Addre&s;s to her, and her greate&s;t trouble now was the being reduced to &s;o &s;mall an Ordinary, which was the cau&s;e &s;he re&s;olved to follow her inclina|tions and &s;eek a more happy life; her Gla&s;s &s;hewed her the little Beauty &s;he had now remaining, and &s;he &s;aw very plainly that her two la&s;t Children had made her loo&s;e that &s;plendour of youth &s;he before carried in her Complexion; and that lively ca&s;t which was heretofore &s;o ea&s;ily perceived in her eyes; To repair the&s;e faults
<PB N="37" REF="25">&s;he had recour&s;e to Paint, both white and red, &s;o borrowing a Beauty which &s;he owed only to Art, and which had a greater &s;hare in it than Nature. If &s;he had af|terwards any &s;everity in her hu|mour, it was only in Publick A&s;|&s;emblies, for when alone in an Al|core with a man of an Amorous Temper nothing was more tracta|ble; &s;he wanted only &s;ome Per|&s;on declaring him&s;elf in love with her to render her happy, that was enough, &s;he loved him already before hand, without knowing either his Name or Merit. He who fir&s;t broke the Ice was a <HI>Monk,</HI> who had left the Habit, who with his little Managements in that Condition, had gotten up a &s;mall Stock of Gold, which did not a little &s;erve to advance his Affairs. The name of this Monk was <HI>An|thonine,</HI> he was tall and very &s;len|der,
<PB N="38" REF="26">his head and eyes bow to|wards the Ground ever &s;ince his <HI>Noviciate,</HI> his Face is long and nar|row, two large bones covered with a rivelled skin, make up the &s;hape of his Cheeks, below which are two great hollow pits, his eyes are &s;unk &s;o far into his head, that the colour of them can &s;carce be per|ceived; his Chin is picked, his No&s;e hooked, and his Complexion of the deepe&s;t dark brown; Na|ture to accompany well this Face, has, in&s;tead of hair, given him two great broad Ears which ri&s;e up a|bove his head and make a plea&s;ant Pro&s;pect, he does not want Wit, and expre&s;&s;es him&s;elf plea&s;antly enough, but is very vain and proud of his knowledge, cunning and cheating; he would be accounted a great Wit in Conver&s;ation, and with an affected voice &s;peaks very ridiculou&s;ly. Although he is re|ally
<PB N="39" REF="26">uglier than I have de&s;cribed him; yet he found no difficulty in obtaining what he de&s;ired of <HI>Octa|via.</HI> That which is to be &s;old, mo|ney always commands, the ways of looking after it are only difficult. The fir&s;t time he &s;aw her &s;he was walking upon the New Walks on the Town-walls, and perceiving him have his eyes fixed upon her, ea&s;ily believed he was &s;mit|ten; &s;he fixes her looks upon him with a &s;tudied Langui&s;hment; and pretending to be &s;urprized by his, blu&s;hed, and ca&s;t down her eyes with &s;o well an affected Mode&s;ty, that it pre&s;ently &s;erved to increa&s;e his Pa&s;&s;ion: Upon this weak Con|jecture he was re&s;olved (though upon never &s;o dear terms) to get her Acquaintance, and like a true experienced Monk, began with en|deavouring to make a Friend&s;hip with her Husband. He &s;oon found
<PB N="40" REF="27">that all his plea&s;ure con&s;i&s;ted in being whole days at his meals and play; and in the&s;e humoured him &s;o well by treating him often, that <HI>Schelicon</HI> &s;eemed never &s;o well plea|&s;ed as with <HI>Anthonine,</HI> and could not well enjoy a moments re&s;t without &s;eeing him. The Vintage &s;ea&s;on was now come, and every one went to reap the plea&s;ures of the Country: at that time <HI>Scheli|con</HI> de&s;ired <HI>Anthonine</HI> to go with him, this favoured his Love too much to be refu&s;ed; &s;o they went accordingly with <HI>Octavia</HI> to take the fre&s;h Air in the Countrey: <HI>Anthonine</HI> was no &s;ooner arrived thither, but he re&s;olved to di&s;cover his Love to <HI>Octavia,</HI> and after hav|ing often failed in opportunity, one day, <HI>Schelicon</HI> being at dinner, he found her alone &s;itting down in the &s;hade in a great Walk of Trees; he was not wanting in &s;o
<PB N="41" REF="27">fair an opportunity to di&s;cover his Love to her; but then uttered all the tender and pa&s;&s;ionate things can be imagined to proceed from a Heart wholly po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed with Love; What he then &s;aid had that effect on <HI>Octavia</HI> that &s;he gave him rea&s;on to hope all that he de&s;ired: but he being of a ha&s;ty humour, would not &s;top here, he would know how far he might hope his happine&s;s &s;hould extend; the knowledge he had of her avariti|ous Nature, put him upon wri|ting a Letter to her in the&s;e Terms.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<HEAD><HI>Anthonine</HI> to <HI>Octavia.</HI></HEAD>
<P>I <HI>Should think my Love like that of a Novice, Madam, If to di&s;|cover my pa&s;&s;ion, I &s;hould tell you of Sighs, Langui&s;hments and &s;weet Di|&s;tractions;
<PB N="42" REF="28">my Love is more Ma&s;cu|line than to concern it &s;elf with the&s;e Childi&s;h Play-games; it loves &s;olid Action, and is not in the lea&s;t moved by the langui&s;hing looks of tho&s;e Vi&s;io|nary Lovers, who ta&s;t only the plea|&s;ure of being loved, by &s;trength of Phancie: That Noble Fire which Love kindles in our hearts is not to be evaporated in langui&s;hing looks and tender &s;ighs only, Nature hath given another vent to it much plea|&s;anter and more convenient. When a Woman is loved by one of the&s;e weak Lovers, &s;he mu&s;t expect only Words, and the prote&s;tations of a Chimerical tenderne&s;s: It is trea&s;on with them but to name Money, and when any Female becomes Mercena|ry, they think her no longer fit to be beloved. As for me, I take another Cour&s;e, and have not made Sighs my only Aim; my Pur&s;e is freely at your Service; and if you will but
<PB N="43" REF="28">give me an hour towards night, you &s;hall &s;ee my Stock, and know what I can do for you.</HI></P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>Anthonine.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</LETTER>
<P>She &s;oon returned him this An|&s;wer, &s;lipping it into his Pocket whil&s;t he was at play with her Husband.</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<P><HI>ALthough I do not well under|&s;tand the meaning of your Letter, yet I think there is &s;ome|thing in it very agreeable and ratio|nal; if you will take the trouble to ex|plain it to me after Supper, I will endeavour to find a way to di&s;cour&s;e with you in private.</HI></P>
</LETTER>
<P>The Letter which <HI>Anthonine</HI> had written was &s;o unfortunate, that after <HI>Octavia</HI> had read it, it fell out of her Pocket when &s;he pull|ed
<PB N="44" REF="29">out her Handkerchief, and was found in the middle of the Room by <HI>Schelicon,</HI> who read it over, and &s;eemed to be vexed at it. <HI>Octavia</HI> who had &s;earched every where for it, without being able to find it, and &s;eeing &s;uch a Melancholy in his Looks, ea&s;ily judged that it had fallen into his hands: &s;o that &s;he was forced to u&s;e the utmo&s;t of her cunning; &s;he therefore comes near him, and &s;troaking his face with her hand; care&s;&s;ing and ki&s;&s;ing him, &s;he asks him the rea&s;on of his Melancholy, and without giving him time to an&s;wer, will you lay a wager (&s;ays &s;he) that I will make you laugh, if I relate to you the plea&s;ante&s;t thing in the World which has lately happened unto me: I am much obliged to you Sir (added &s;he with a &s;cornful &s;mile) to &s;uffer your Friends to &s;end me Letters full of Impertinencies: See
<PB N="45" REF="29">&s;ays &s;he, &s;earching in her Pocket, pretending to look for this Letter of <HI>Anthonine</HI>'s) what has been written to me, after this who can be tru&s;ted? <HI>Anthonine</HI> that Body of Death, that riveled and fearful face, that lean Skeleton, to &s;peak to me of Love, and to endeavour to &s;uborn my Vertue? You would never believe it; if the Letter I am going to let you have a &s;ight of, were not an undeniable proof. After having &s;aid this, &s;he &s;earch|es one Pocket, than the other, takes out every thing out of both, looks in her Gown, undoes her Train, and is impatient that &s;he cannot find it. Upon which <HI>Schelicon</HI>'s fir&s;t &s;u&s;picion being bani&s;hed, he gives it to her without &s;aying a word. What, &s;ays &s;he, are you in the Con&s;piracy to laugh at me? and has he given you a Copy of? No, replied he, in a more gentle
<PB N="46" REF="30">tone; It is the &s;ame you had lo&s;t, as I under&s;tand, and which I have found in this Room. Well, then &s;ays &s;he, what &s;ay you to this? who would not have been cheated by this Hypocrite? who &s;eems hard|ly to dare to look upon a Woman; If you will be ruled by me, to pu|ni&s;h his In&s;olence, we will bubble him. She then propo&s;ed a way to be diverted by him, which was for her to &s;uffer his Addre&s;&s;es, to an|&s;wer them obligingly enough, to gives rendezvouzes, to receive his money upon fine hopes, and thus to cheat him. <HI>Schelicon</HI> tru&s;ting entirely to her vertue, and to all that &s;he had &s;aid, con&s;ented to what&s;oever &s;he de&s;ired, and to the end he might give them more li|berty to begin that very Night their new Game, he went out of the Hou&s;e after Supper, and walk|ed abroad alone. <HI>Anthonine</HI> per|ceiving
<PB N="47" REF="30">this ble&s;&s;ed opportunity, thought he had di&s;covered the happy minute; &s;o that going into <HI>Octavia</HI>'s Bed-chamber, he found her lying upon the Bed, her Coats negligent &amp; di&s;order'd, &s;o great an effect had the &s;eeing a Woman in this po&s;ture upon him, that he was da&s;ht, and not able to ap|proach her. Am I &s;o frightful (&s;ays &s;he, to him, perceiving his ill tim'd Mode&s;ty) that you dare not endure the &s;ight of me, and are you only brave, with a Pen in your hand? Near &s;o much Beauty (re|plied <HI>Anthonine,</HI> coming to him|felf, and looking &s;imply for his Pur&s;e) how am I &s;tricken with Admiration? and can a man offer you &s;o little money as I have, with|out &s;ome kind of trouble, to de&s;erve tho&s;e Favours, I hope to obtain from you? Lord! replied &s;he, taking his Pur&s;e and looking &s;ted|fa&s;tly
<PB N="48" REF="31">upon it, how fine is the hair with which this Pur&s;e is made? are they yours? But what &s;hall I do with it, added &s;he? take it a|gain, I am not Mercenary: With the&s;e la&s;t words the Monk was &s;o animated, that pulling up her coats with eagerne&s;s, he di&s;covered her lovely Body naked: at the &s;ame time &s;he puts up the Pur&s;e, not out of any ill de&s;ign, having too good a Con&s;cience to keep the mony without giving him the Mer|chandize; &s;he &s;hewed her Lover at this time, that &s;he had a great &s;hare of Mode&s;ty, turning her face upon the Bol&s;ter, and &s;hutting her eyes, pretending not to have the confidence to &s;ee her &s;elf in &s;uch a Po&s;ture in the Arms of any man but her Husband. Then it was that <HI>Anthonine</HI> took po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of what he &s;o pa&s;&s;ionately wi&s;ht for, and after having took &s;atisfaction
<PB N="49" REF="31">for his Pur&s;e where with briskne&s;s then he came.</P>
<P>The Husband being returned, <HI>Octavia</HI> makes to him a fal&s;e Con|fe&s;&s;ion of all that had pa&s;&s;ed, tells him of the Tran&s;ports of <HI>Antho|nine,</HI> and calls him the Amorous Scheleton: confe&s;&s;es &s;he had felt &s;ome kind of horrour to &s;ee her &s;elf alone with him; exaggerates the repul&s;es &s;he had given him, tells him &s;he would never &s;uffer him to ki&s;s her hand, for fear a ki&s;s from &s;uch a Satyr &s;hould rai&s;e a bli&s;ter; &s;hews him the Pur&s;e, &s;wears to him he had given it to have one moment of Conver&s;ati|on with her: &s;he &s;hares the pro|fit with him; and by the relation &s;he makes of the ridiculous man|ner, with which he pre&s;ented it, makes <HI>Schelicon</HI> almo&s;t die with laughter: The good man laughs at the follies of a man, who&s;e fool
<PB N="50" REF="32">he really was. In fine, when &s;he was in bed &s;he embraced him more than ordinarily, to the end &s;he might make him believe &s;he drew water at no other Well but his.</P>
<P>As long as <HI>Anthonine</HI> had Mo|ney the A&s;&s;ignations were very frequent, and <HI>Schelicon</HI> u&s;ed to go out of the Chamber and leave them together; but his Pur&s;e fail|ing, it was time for him to think of returning to <HI>Paris</HI> to &s;eek a new &s;upply. <HI>Schelicon</HI> and <HI>Octavia</HI> &s;oon followed him; and Vintage being done, they came up to Town to pa&s;s the Winter there, and &s;eek &s;ome other good fortune.</P>
<P><HI>Octavia</HI> being at <HI>Paris</HI> thought it too little for her to be contented with her Mona&s;tick Ordinary, for change of meat quickens the Ap|petite. A certain Gentleman call|ed <HI>Caveceus,</HI> was the fir&s;t who ju&s;t|led <HI>Anthonine</HI> out of favour, &s;he
<PB N="51" REF="32">had too great a de&s;ire to ta&s;t of all conditions of men, not to receive a man of &s;o good a <HI>Mine,</HI> and who came of one of the mo&s;t Illu&s;tri|ous Families of that Place; &s;he would have one tryal at lea&s;t of him, let it co&s;t her never &s;o much, that &s;he might mix Noble Blood with that of a Citizens: Such a good fortune was not to be refu|&s;ed by her, for he is finely &s;haped and very tall, but &s;omewhat too &s;lender; has good legs well &s;haped, and his hair is fair, well curled and frized, his mouth well made, his eyes plea&s;ant, a fine hand, his complexion is not very good, the Small Pox having left &s;ome marks; but as for his mind he is the mo&s;t &s;incere of men, &s;weet, civil and ob|liging to all the World, he &s;peaks very &s;lowly, and has &s;ome difficul|ty in expre&s;&s;ing him&s;elf: But if any will hearken to him, they will find
<PB N="52" REF="33">him &s;ay every thing very well and with great &s;en&s;e; he plea&s;es him|&s;elf extremely with Womens com|pany, and &s;hews the Sex &s;o great a re&s;pect, that he often by it becomes trouble&s;ome, and chiefly to <HI>Octa|via,</HI> whom he had almo&s;t made de&s;perate in the fir&s;t conver&s;ations he had with her; &s;he who hates re&s;pect out of time, and who would have every one become fa|miliar immediately, was forced to endure him a long time without his &s;o much as &s;peaking to her of his Love, or daring &s;o much as to touch her hand; he thought to have done a great deal, and took him&s;elf to be a ra&s;h Lover, if by chance he had fetched a &s;igh, or ca&s;t an amorous look in her pre|&s;ence. From whence proceeds it, &s;aid &s;he to him one day, (thereby to give him an opportunity to di&s;|cover him&s;elf to her) that you
<PB N="53" REF="33">&s;eem to me to be &s;o pen&s;ive and di&s;quieted, and that I phancy when ever I happen to ob&s;erve you, you cannot be a moment without &s;end|ing forth &s;ighs? your langui&s;hing looks in&s;truct me well enough, that your mind is wounded with &s;ome pa&s;&s;ion, tell me for God's &s;ake I reque&s;t it of you, (but without di&s;gui&s;ing any thing) what cau&s;es this di&s;order in you? I &s;wear to you there is nothing in the World which I will not do to give you ea&s;e. To any other Per&s;on in the World be&s;ides your &s;elf, replied <HI>Caviceus</HI> (blu&s;hing and &s;ixing his eyes upon the ground) I would ne|ver grant <HI>(Madam)</HI> what you re|quire of me; but &s;ince I have vowed to re&s;pect you, and to obey you as long as I live, I will open to you all my &s;ecrets, and in &s;ome par|ticulars &s;hould be extremely am|bitious of taking your Coun&s;els.
<PB N="54" REF="34">Know then Madam, a thing which I would never have told you, had you not commanded me, which is, that I love, and that with the greate&s;t violence, the mo&s;t lovely Per&s;on that ever appeared under the Heavens, but as my love is very great, my profound re&s;pect is al&s;o &s;o extreme, that I never have dared to tell her I &s;uffered for her, and that I have hitherto rather cho&s;en to be unhappy, than indi&s;|creet: Tell me then Madam, is it not time for me to &s;peak at pre|&s;ent? have not I acted by &s;ighs on|ly, long enough? and may not I now make my complaints at the feet of her I love, of what torments &s;he has made me endure? her hu|mour is &s;weet, her eyes tender and compa&s;&s;ionate, her heart &mdash; What, interrupted <HI>Octavia,</HI> with Anger, thinking he had &s;poken of &s;ome body el&s;e; do you entertain
<PB N="55" REF="34">me only with the Beauties of your Mi&s;tre&s;s; your nature mu&s;t be &s;trangely mi&s;chievous, or at lea&s;t you very uncivil thus to prai&s;e her in my pre&s;ence; if you had not per|fectly lo&s;t your wits, certainly you would not have done thus, Oh! I had very well fore&s;een Madam, con|tinued <HI>Caviceus,</HI> that your vertue was too &s;evere to &s;uffer the confe&s;|&s;ion I have now made of that &s;trong pa&s;&s;ion I have for you; was it of me, replied <HI>Octavia</HI> (&s;eem|ing &s;trangely &s;urprized) that you &s;poke? Let us di&s;gui&s;e nothing, replied <HI>Caviceus,</HI> you have under|&s;tood it too well for my happine&s;s; well, if it be of me, replied <HI>Octa|via,</HI> you may continue your Di&s;|cour&s;e, I will permit you; you go too much about, and &s;peak with too much ob&s;curity of a thing you would have known: Oh! Madam, replied he, if you did but know
<PB N="56" REF="35">the purity of my de&s;ires, you would never di&s;approve of my Love, &s;ince it is wholly &s;eperated from any thing of Crime; &s;o that if you had le&s;s vertue you would &s;eem le&s;s amiable to me. In fine he &s;pent the re&s;t of this conver&s;a|tion only in exaggerating the in|nocency of his thoughts, although <HI>Octavia</HI> (if he had taken notice of what &s;he &s;aid) required the con|trary of him, and that that was not the be&s;t quality &s;he hoped for, in a Lover. Another time as &s;he was with him, and being mighti|ly concerned, that notwith&s;tand|ing all the advances &s;he had made, there had no more pa&s;&s;ed betwixt them, &s;he was now re&s;olved to di&s;cover her thoughts to him up|on this matter &s;o clearly, that he &s;hould be obliged indi&s;pen&s;ably to proceed further; when one loves &s;aid &s;he to him (with an affected
<PB N="57" REF="35">ba&s;hfulne&s;s) as much as you &s;ay, is one contented to do, &s;o little as you do? Love then would re|ally have but very weak plea&s;ures if it &s;hould proceed no further, and Per&s;ons who love might with rea|&s;on complain to find them&s;elves &s;o ill recompenced for the torments they are made to &s;uffer under Love's Dominion. Well then, if it be &s;o, replied <HI>Caviceus,</HI> why are you &s;o un&s;en&s;ible to the tenderne&s;s of a Heart which loves you &s;o much? Alas! I know but too well your cruelty finds out this, to re|move me farther from you, and to force me not to love you, you pre|tend by this to repul&s;e my pa&s;&s;ion; by repre&s;enting to me the &s;mall gains I &s;hall receive from it; but in fine, why do you blame me, &s;ince tho&s;e weak plea&s;ures it feeds me with, have no &s;en&s;ual founda|tion, and nothing criminal in
<PB N="58" REF="36">them? What other Foundation can a true Lover have for his plea|&s;ures, but the &s;en&s;es, replied &s;he? the plea&s;ures, &s;ays he, of thinking of his Love, of entertaining him|&s;elf with little plea&s;ant di&s;quiets, to think of the Per&s;on he loves, to ca&s;t towards her a thou&s;and amo|rous Looks, to complain, to &s;igh, to langui&s;h and to weep: and do you call the&s;e (interrupted &s;he) the plea&s;ures of Love, truly you are a great Novice in it then, the&s;e are only the torments, and if you had a heart which were any ways touched with that pa&s;&s;ion, you would judge of the &s;weets of it, by the violence of the torments you &s;peak of; I will let you know out of pity, where you will find the true and &s;olid plea&s;ures of Love: you can (replied he) Madam, by loving me, and by that will render me happy beyond compari&s;on;
<PB N="59" REF="36">As for what you now ask, you may be a&s;&s;ured of, but&mdash;do not abu&s;e and in&s;ult any more over (replied he, interrupting her very concernedly) the misfortunes of the mi&s;erable, &s;ince it is you alone cau&s;es it, and if you have not com|pa&s;&s;ion enough to give me ea&s;e, at lea&s;t be not &s;o cruel as to widen my wounds. They fini&s;hed this Con|ver&s;ation as well as the others without coming to any Conclu&s;ion, and <HI>Octavia</HI> very much incen&s;ed again&s;t her Gallant, was re&s;olved another time to demon&s;trate to him what &s;he could not before make him under&s;tand, but &s;he not having the opportunity of &s;eeing him often, her de&s;igns mu&s;t have been delayed, had &s;he not invented a way how to facilitate their com|merce, and receive him more ea&s;i|ly in her Chamber, which was to tell her Husband that if at any
<PB N="60" REF="37">time &s;he &s;uffered him in her Com|pany, it was only out of Policy, he being a man of that Quality, and Great Intere&s;t at Court, that if there &s;hould happen to them a|ny misfortune, he would be able to do them great Service; &s;he there|upon advi&s;ed him to vi&s;it him of|ten, to endeavour to gain his friend|&s;hip, and to accompany him in all his diver&s;ions, telling him it would be the greate&s;t honour in the World for him, it being the only way to make him con&s;iderable in the World; He who never made u&s;e of any rea&s;on of his own, but &s;uffered it to be always governed, followed her Coun&s;el exactly, and was whole days with <HI>Caviceus,</HI> liv|ing continually at his Table, which was always better &s;erved than his own: <HI>Octavia</HI>'s true thoughts were, that thus advi&s;ing her Hu&s;|band to invite <HI>Caviceus</HI> often, &s;he
<PB N="61" REF="37">&s;hould be able, (knowing his ob|liging humour, of giving her &s;o often Pre&s;ents) in the ab&s;ence of her Husband to have him often with her in her Chamber, and might have the opportunity of pa&s;&s;ing many a plea&s;ant moment with him in her Alcore without &s;u&s;picion; All things &s;ucceeded to her liking better than &s;he expected: for <HI>Ca|viceus</HI> being grateful for the fa|vours he had received from <HI>Scheli|con,</HI> made offer to him of a Hou&s;e of his to lodge in, which he accep|ted of freely enough, and that gave <HI>Octavia</HI> better means of &s;ucceed|ing in her de&s;igns; &s;he comple|mented him often, and &s;aid very obliging things to him upon his good <HI>Meen,</HI> &s;hewed him her Neck and Brea&s;ts naked, asking him what fault he found in them, not|with&s;tanding all which her Linnen nor her Clothes were not any
<PB N="62" REF="38">more rumpled or tumbled than at fir&s;t; which tran&s;ported her &s;ome|times to &s;uch a degree as to make her almo&s;t quarrel with him open|ly; &s;he then &s;hewed him a Song which blamed ba&s;hful Lovers for &s;ighing, and tormenting them|&s;elves for a thing when almo&s;t of|fer'd, they would not attempt get|ting po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of, but he read it no better than he under&s;tood it. In fine one day, wearied with all the advances &s;he had made, &s;he was re&s;olved now to u&s;e the la&s;t reme|dy, and had recour&s;e to demon|&s;tration, to render that more &s;en|&s;ible which &s;he had a mind to di&s;|cover to him; &s;he knowing he was to come into her Chamber, ac|cording to his Cu&s;tom after din|ner, laid her &s;elf upon the Bed in her Cornet, with her Brea&s;ts naked, and her Petticoats &s;o ill in order, that her Thighs
<PB N="63" REF="38">might be &s;een; whil&s;t &s;he lay in this po&s;ture pretending to &s;leep, her Lover came alone into her Chamber (for &s;he had given order none &s;hould give her notice of his coming, that he might find her thus) and &s;eeing her in this unde|cent po&s;ture, blu&s;hed, and thought that by chance in her &s;leep her Petticoats had flown up, &s;o that he to hinder her from being in the Di&s;order which, he thought, &s;he would be in, if &s;he awaked and found her &s;elf in this Condition before him, takes up her Handker|chief, and with the lea&s;t noi&s;e he could for fear of waking her, co|vers her Brea&s;ts, and pulls down her Coats; in the &s;ame in&s;tant <HI>Octavia</HI> pretending to awake, pu&s;h|es him back with violence, &s;peak|ing thus to him, tell me perfidious fool, are the&s;e the Actions of a true Lover; ought not you to die with
<PB N="64" REF="39">&s;hame for your weakne&s;s? and does not it fill you with horrour, it being again&s;t the Order of Na|ture; I am (&s;ays he) it is true a Criminal, but it was Fortune cau|&s;ed the Crime; if you could but know the Innocency of my Thoughts, you would without doubt have a better opinion of me, &s;ince you would find me not guil|ty of the lea&s;t di&s;orderly motion: It is that Knowledge, replied the Lady, which makes me &s;o much an Enemy to you, and makes me dete&s;t your Per&s;on: Madam, (re|plied he, interrupting her) I con|jure you to believe that what I did was only to &s;pare you the trouble which you mu&s;t have had to have &s;een your &s;elf naked in my pre|&s;ence; was it that way, an&s;wered &s;he, that you ought to have cove|red it, and if you were but ratio|nal, you would find out a better
<PB N="65" REF="39">way to excu&s;e it. In fine, &s;he &s;aid, all that could be &s;aid, on &s;uch an Occa&s;ion, leaving him in that Wrath, that he went from her with the greate&s;t grief and &s;or|row imaginable: This re&s;entment of <HI>Octavia</HI> did not la&s;t long; for <HI>Anthonine,</HI> came into her Cham|ber in the &s;ame in&s;tant that <HI>Cavi|ceus</HI> went out, and &s;oon comforted her in performing for her what &s;he had in vain expected from the other too Mode&s;t Lover; &s;he &s;poke all the ill things imaginable of <HI>Ca|viceus,</HI> and a&s;&s;ured him that &s;he had never conceived &s;o much An|tipathy again&s;t any Man, as again&s;t him, and that if her Husband had not commanded her to receive him, &s;he would never have &s;uffe|red him to come within her &s;ight: after this, &s;he &s;et to work all the little engaging Endearments &s;he could, which &s;ucceeded &s;o well,
<PB N="66" REF="40">that &s;he got from him a very rich and pretty Suit of Knots: She took that day &s;o much plea&s;ure in re|ceiving Pre&s;ents, that &s;he was re|&s;olved to ask of <HI>Caviceus</HI> all the fine things &s;he had a mind to, &s;ince &s;he could get nothing el&s;e out of him, although when he came again to vi&s;it her, he was received with all the accu&s;tomed kindne&s;s, as if nothing at all had happened; and the &s;ame day, &s;eeing a Dia|mond Ring upon his Finger, &s;he pretended to have a de&s;ire to buy it, and commended it &s;o that he could not hand&s;omely refu&s;e giv|ing it to her. When he went abroad, &s;he would always de&s;ire him to buy things for her, which were al|ways the be&s;t of the Kinds, he not being able to defend him&s;elf from executing her Orders, and as he was not kept within the narrow bounds of a &s;mall Pen&s;ion, the lea&s;t
<PB N="67" REF="40">of his Pre&s;ents was of greater va|lue than three of <HI>Anthonine</HI>'s: It is true &s;he would have been unju&s;t to have complained of the Monk, &s;ince he gave her all he had, and that to content her he had endea|voured all he could to content her. But as one day <HI>Anthonine</HI> was a|lone with her, repeating that plea|&s;ure which he valued dear as his life: <HI>Caviceus</HI> was at the door re|turned from the Exchange with an abundance of the mo&s;t modi&s;h wearing things he could purcha&s;e for her; <HI>Octavia</HI> gave <HI>Anthonine</HI> only time to go out of the Cham|ber, and taking her Fann, &s;he en|deavoured to abate the high co|lour which the Exerci&s;e &s;he had ju&s;t then u&s;ed, had rai&s;ed in her face. There could not be &s;hewed more kindne&s;s to a man than &s;he did in this Interview, and fearing le&s;t by rea&s;on of the di&s;turbance
<PB N="68" REF="41">&s;he &s;eemed to be in, he might &s;u&s;|pect &s;omething; &s;he told him without asking, that <HI>Anthonine</HI> was ju&s;t gone out; that her Hu&s;|band was become jealous, and had de&s;ired <HI>Anthonine,</HI> as his Friend, to have always an eye over her, and to ob&s;erve her conduct; after|wards in a pretended Confe&s;&s;ion, which &s;he made to him, &s;he a&s;&s;u|red him &s;he had the greate&s;t hor|rour in the World to be forced to be alone with &s;uch a man, and that yet &s;he out of re&s;pect to her Husband had always &s;uffered him to be in her company; <HI>Caviceus</HI> who believed all &s;he had &s;aid to be true, began to offer her what he had then bought, and a|mong&s;t the re&s;t of the things, a Box &s;et with Diamonds, wherein was his Picture; upon which <HI>Octavia</HI> taking the hand with which he pre&s;ented it, ki&s;&s;ing it
<PB N="69" REF="41">with great tran&s;port, and cried out; Oh God, how obliging and generous you are? why am not I able to do &s;omething for you, in re|turn for the&s;e favours? <HI>Caviceus</HI> felt a certain &s;prightfulne&s;s in him|&s;elf &s;tirred up by this freedom &s;he had u&s;ed, which emboldned him; he takes her hand and &s;queezes it between his, ki&s;&s;es it, fa&s;tens his mouth full of fire to one of her brea&s;ts, afterwards ki&s;&s;es her be|tween them, then looks up into her face with &s;ome remainder of Mode&s;ty, to know from her eyes whether his Actions plea&s;ed her, every thing flatters him, and he hears from her nothing but langui|&s;hing and amorous &s;ighs, he locks her in his Arms, and then fell ea|gerly to ta&s;te tho&s;e Joys which he had &s;o long de&s;ired, and forborn out of a fooli&s;h Mode&s;ty.</P>
<P><HI>Octavia</HI> who had not dared &s;ay
<PB N="70" REF="42">any thing for fear her Lover &s;hould have u&s;ed &s;ome other un|&s;ea&s;onable re&s;pect, &s;eeing he could not now draw back held this Di&s;cour&s;e to him not without con|tinual Interruptions, pu&s;hing him &s;oftly back and rai&s;ing him upon her Arms, &s;eemed to be extreme|ly concerned, and uttered all tho&s;e things we might expect from a cunning Girle (in&s;tructed by her Mother, and Aunt) on the Bridal Night, thereby to deceive the man into an opinion of his having obtained a Maidenhead. When &s;he found <HI>Caviceus</HI> retreating, &s;he fetching a great &s;igh from the bot|tom of her heart, and opening her Arms which &s;he let fall negligent|ly upon the Bol&s;ter, ri&s;es from the Bed, and went to one &s;ide of the Chamber leaning her Head o|ver the Arms of a great Chair, her Hankerchief before her eyes,
<PB N="71" REF="42">and pretending in this condition to fall out into Tears and Sobs, thereby the more to move <HI>Cavice|us,</HI> &s;he &s;poke thus to him with the mo&s;t to be compa&s;&s;ionated Tone of Voice in the World: Have I lived thus long, only, to &s;ee my &s;elf &s;hamefully in the Arms of any man be&s;ides my Husband? and mu&s;t I after having lived hitherto with &s;o much Honour, be brought to &s;ee my &s;elf the infamous Ob|ject of your Lu&s;t? did Heaven give you all tho&s;e great Qualities, on|ly to &s;educe my Honour, and to di&s;turb the innocent plea&s;ures which a Citizen enjoyed with her Husband? Oh! mi&s;erable Crea|ture, that I am, why had not I ra|ther cho&s;en to die with the greate&s;t mi&s;ery of pains, then to expo&s;e my &s;elf to tho&s;e torments, which at pre&s;ent are tearing my Soul? can I ever after this Infamy, be able to
<PB N="72" REF="43">look upon my Husband, and re|ceive his innocent and cha&s;t Ki&s;&s;es, without dying of grief, to &s;ee that I have defiled by my uncha&s;tne&s;s, the purity of our Embraces? &s;he &s;aid many other things which did &s;o &s;en&s;ibly move <HI>Caviceus,</HI> that I do not know whether he did not for a moment repent of the Action he had performed: he u&s;ed all his skill in comforting her, exaggera|ting the great number of Women who took the &s;ame Liberty, a&s;&s;u|ring her that all the fine&s;t Women of that City had the &s;ame &s;weet &s;in to an&s;wer for: but as the plea|&s;ure began to return, the counter|feit Grief cea&s;ed, and inviting her to renew the Work, &s;he con&s;ented to it, &s;aying to him, that it was on|ly the fir&s;t time that was dear, all the re&s;t co&s;ting nothing, and that &s;he fore&s;aw, &s;he &s;hould never be a|ble to &s;hake off the pa&s;&s;ion &s;he had
<PB N="73" REF="43">now conceived for him; In fine for a conclu&s;ion, &s;he de&s;iring to take advantage of the ab&s;ence of her Husband obliged him to re|main that Night with her, but &s;carce was this agreed upon, be|fore her Husband came in; all that &s;he could do, was to hide <HI>Caviceus</HI> in a Clo&s;et, and de&s;ires him not to be impatient, &s;ince his arrival &s;hould not hinder their De&s;ign, for he was accu&s;tomed after Sup|per to return to his Country hou&s;e, a League from <HI>Orleans</HI> to lie there, not being able to di&s;pen&s;e with it, becau&s;e of &s;ome Dome&s;tick Affairs he had to di&s;patch there, but the thing happened far otherwi&s;e than he had &s;aid; for <HI>Schelicon</HI> being very weary, told her he could not return thither that Night, and that he comforted him&s;elf ea&s;ily &s;ince he &s;hould more agreeably pa&s;s the Night with her. All that &s;he
<PB N="74" REF="44">could do was to &s;teal from her Husband one moment, and to go and give notice of this to <HI>Caviceus,</HI> &s;he cried out aloud to him from the door to be gone with the lea&s;t noi&s;e he could, and without &s;taying time enough to &s;ee him go, &s;he returns to the Chamber where her Hu&s;|band was, to bu&s;ie him, that he might not take notice of the go|ing out of <HI>Caviceus. Anthonine,</HI> who far from being gone away, when <HI>Octavia</HI> thought he was, out of a jealous humour had &s;lipped behind the Hangings near that door, to &s;ee what pa&s;&s;ed between her and <HI>Caviceus:</HI> finding &s;o fine an opportunity to revenge him|&s;elf of them both, goes out of the Chamber and &s;huts that door at the &s;ame time as <HI>Caviceus</HI> went to open that of the Clo&s;et where he was: but he hearing the noi&s;e of that door, &s;tayed there, for fear of
<PB N="75" REF="44">being &s;een, thinking it to be <HI>Octavia,</HI> who having changed her re&s;oluti|on, had then &s;hut it: So he &s;tayed till Night, and &s;eeing his Mi&s;tre&s;s come into the Chamber with her Maid, he did not dare appear; he &s;aw her undre&s;s her &s;elf from the Clo&s;et, and &s;aw her go into Bed, after having ordered the Maid to put out the Candle; when &s;he was thus gone into Bed alone he did not doubt but that her Hu&s;|band was gone back to his Coun|try-hou&s;e, and thought that he had nothing to do but to prepare him&s;elf to lie by her; but finding him&s;elf not to be in the true con|dition he ought to appear in, hav|ing exhau&s;ted him&s;elf in the day time, he tarried yet &s;ome time in the Clo&s;&s;et repa&s;&s;ing in his Ima|gination all the Objects which had before given him provocations, and feeling the fir&s;t fore-runners of
<PB N="76" REF="45">plea&s;ure, he comes out, and ap|proaches her Bed, who &s;leeping al|ready, awaked at the lea&s;t noi&s;e he made, and taking him for her Husband, having as &s;he thought heard <HI>Caviceus</HI> go down, &s;aid to him, Lord! what have you been doing &s;o long? why did you not come to Bed, <HI>Caviceus</HI> being migh|tily moved at the&s;e reproaches, without giving him&s;elf the time to an&s;wer, undre&s;&s;es him&s;elf and ca&s;ts him&s;elf into her Arms, before &s;he found her mi&s;take. <HI>Schelicon</HI> hav|ing fini&s;hed his Letters comes into the Chamber with a Candle, and drawing the Curtains of the Bed, &s;ees <HI>Caviceus</HI> &s;o advantagiou&s;ly placed: I leave you to judge the amazement of all three; <HI>Octavia</HI> to find her Husband in two places, <HI>Caviceus</HI> to &s;ee him &s;o near him, and <HI>Schelicon</HI> to &s;ee his Wife in the Arms of another. In fine, after
<PB N="77" REF="45">this fir&s;t &s;urpri&s;al, <HI>Caviceus</HI> was forced to compound; and the Arti|cles were, that he &s;hould give a good Sum of Money to <HI>Schelicon,</HI> and the Freedom of his Table, and that <HI>Sehelicon</HI> &s;hould let him have the u&s;e of the Place, of which he only re&s;erved the Propriety. The Treaty is yet in force, and they live all three in the greate&s;t Union imaginable.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="madam du tillait" TYPE="text">
<PB REF="46">
<PB N="79" REF="46">
<HEAD>THE HISTORY OF <HI>Madam</HI> Du Tillait, <HI>Written in a Letter to another Lady, who de&s;ired it of a Gen|tleman of her Acquaintance.</HI></HEAD>
<OPENER><SALUTE>Madam,</SALUTE></OPENER>
<P>SInce you were plea&s;ed to command me to give you an account of Madam <HI>du Til|lait,</HI> I &s;hall obey and relate to you a &s;mall part of the Hi&s;tory of her Life, for if I &s;hould endea|vour to give you the whole, it
<PB N="80" REF="47">would take up the re&s;t of mine.</P>
<P>Since I am ignorant whether you know her by &s;ight, I &s;hall here ad|joyn a de&s;cription of her Per&s;on.</P>
<P>She is delicately &s;haped, and of a good &s;tature, &s;he has fine but blew Eyes, a very pa&s;&s;able Complexion (e&s;pecially for a French Woman) black hair, her Mouth not much too big, and her Teeth pretty even and white, all which toge|ther would make up a Woman of a very good Mine, and much to be admired, if it were not &s;poiled by an impudent Air, which does &s;o raign in her Face, that by the fir&s;t look one may gue&s;s her to be an ab&s;olute <HI>Me&s;&s;alina;</HI> as for her Inclinations they are &s;weet and free to that degree that &s;he denies nothing that one can ask her, but thinks it a &s;in again&s;t Nature to deny what is reque&s;ted of her
<PB N="81" REF="47">with a good grace; in fine, Ma|dam, &s;he has a thou&s;and con&s;idera|ble Qualities which would infalli|bly have advanced her to the fir&s;t rank of Women, if &s;he had been either at the Courts of the King of <HI>Ethiopia,</HI> or of the Queen of <HI>A|ragon.</HI></P>
<P>She was educated by her Grand-mother, Madam <HI>de la Hou&s;&s;ay,</HI> in who&s;e Hou&s;e &s;he had no &s;ooner come to the fifteenth year of her Age, but &s;he fell de&s;perately in love with one <HI>Chanteau,</HI> who has been dead now &s;ome time; he was not a Man of Quality indeed, but a very hand&s;om Fellow, and had a great deal of Wit: This Lady be|ing at that time very pretty, he perceived with no &s;mall joy the good will &s;he bore towards him, &amp; profited &s;o well of it that he &s;oon obtained of her what ever he de|&s;ired, but &s;carce was the Flower of
<PB N="82" REF="48">this young Beauty gather'd, but the Fruit appeared, for in &s;ome time (notwith&s;tanding all the tricks that were plai'd to hinder it) it came to perfection, about which time &s;he found it nece&s;&s;ary to pre|tend to her Grandmother that &s;he would pa&s;s &s;ome few days with one of her Aunts a Nun at the Port Royal, under which pretence &s;he went and liv'd at a Midwifes hou&s;e in the <HI>Rue du Four</HI> at <HI>Paris,</HI> where &s;he was brought to Bed of a Daughter, who was taken care of by <HI>Chanteau.</HI></P>
<P>She was ab&s;ent but four days, at the end of which &s;he returned to her Grandmothers hou&s;e, where &s;he kept her Bed the full time, pretending to be &s;ick of a Feaver, at which time (her Woman Mrs. <HI>du Plais</HI>) has told me, &s;he prote&s;ted &s;olemnly &s;he would never return to that &s;in &s;he had been &s;o &s;ick in
<PB N="83" REF="48">this Lying-Inn, by rea&s;on of he|tender Age; but &s;carce was &s;he out of her Bed when &s;he forgot all the&s;e Vows that were extorted from her by the violence of her pangs, and was with Child again, and was brought to Bed this &s;econd time at the &s;ame Midwifes hou&s;e, but not &s;o &s;ecretly as the fir&s;t, for it is believed her Father knew it well, although he has always pre|tended him&s;elf ignorant of it, which was not very likely, con&s;idering his great ha&s;t of marrying her &s;o &s;oon after this &s;econd Slip, which he did to <HI>Mon&s;ieur le Pre&s;ident du Tillait,</HI> who after having lived with her &s;everal years, and believed her a Ve&s;tal, found her in Bed with a Gentleman of the Court according to the notice that was given him by his Brother Mr. <HI>de la Cour des Bois,</HI> who was much incen&s;ed with her permitting any other to par|take
<PB N="84" REF="49">of tho&s;e favours &s;he had af|forded him. The manner of her being &s;urprized was thus: He having pretended to go into the Country, came home (contrary to her Expectation) at Night, and found the Gentleman with her, who was forced to run away in his Shirt, and leave his Clothes in the Ladies Chamber, &s;ince which her Husband has never &s;een her nor owned a Daughter of which his wife went from the time of this Ad|venture, for &s;he was brought to Bed nine months after of her, who now is called (Madam <HI>du Plais</HI>) this Gen|tleman who was thus caught, and was then &s;o much in Love with her has been &s;o con&s;tant to her, &s;ince that he has had of her two Sons, one dead and the other who is now his Page, he always thinking him|&s;elf the only Per&s;on in her favour till he was di&s;abu&s;ed by this acci|dent,
<PB N="85" REF="49">after which he found him|&s;elf far from being in the right, for then &s;he had many others, &s;ince &s;he has given up her &s;elf to all the World.</P>
<P>The manner of his di&s;covering the Ladies having other Gallants, was thus: She had an old Maid called <HI>Richarde,</HI> that was the be&s;t in the World at entertaining Com|merce with a dozen Gallants for her Mi&s;tre&s;s at the &s;ame time, for &s;he never &s;poke of one to the other, without making each of them be|lieve him&s;elf to be the &s;ole fortu|nate Lover, but &s;he had another who was not &s;o &s;ecret, for upon &s;ome &s;u&s;picion the Court Gentle|man had of the Abbot of <HI>Aumont,</HI> &s;he readily confe&s;&s;ed the truth that he lay with her Mi&s;tre&s;s, at the knowledge of which, and the &s;ur|pri&s;ing them once together by this Maids contrivance, he was &s;o
<PB N="86" REF="50">inraged, that he endeavour'd to run the Abbot through, who hav|ing put by the thru&s;t, and clo&s;ed upon him, gave the Lady time to call up help to part them, notwith|&s;tanding which the Abbot was hurt in the Face and Hand, but as &s;oon as he was gone the Gentleman di&s;charged his Anger upon the La|dy, and gave her &s;o many blows with the flat of his Sword that &s;he lay &s;ick of it at lea&s;t a Fortnight or three Weeks, during which time &s;he was forced to keep her Bed; &s;ince this Affair the Gentle|man never cared for her, but broke with her wholly, notwith&s;tanding all &s;he could do to appea&s;e him.</P>
<P>After which the Lady having &s;o well begun in her young years, was re&s;olved to fini&s;h &s;o, and aban|doned her &s;elf &s;o up to Vice, that it was to the three States, the No|bility, Clergy and Commonality.</P>
<PB N="87" REF="50">
<P>Some time after this &s;he retired into the Ho&s;pital of the <HI>Charonne</HI> in the &s;aid Suburbs of Saint <HI>Ger|mane,</HI> becau&s;e of &s;ome Creditors that pro&s;ecuted her very &s;everely, thinking thereby to gain time to pay them.</P>
<P>While &s;he was in this Covent &s;he made an Acquaintance with a Father Je&s;uit, called <HI>Faverolles,</HI> who as I take it, was Director of Con&s;cience to the Nuns of that Covent, who&s;e ingenious Conver|&s;ation was &s;o plea&s;ing to her, that &s;he had many private Conferences mith him, in which the good Fa|ther found &s;omething in the Lady that made him hope to gain her Favour, which being no very diffi|cult thing, he &s;oon came to the end of his De&s;ign, which he had no &s;ooner acquainted her with, but &s;he promi&s;ed him &s;atisfaction; &s;o that there's nothing wanting now
<PB N="88" REF="51">but opportunity he obtained &s;o much of the Lady, that &s;he di&s;co|vered to him a Grate that &s;he had in her Parlour, which came out when &s;he plea&s;ed, which as &s;oon as the Father heard, he made &s;uch u&s;e of it, that he would not &s;tay any longer, but went through the Grate to the Ladies Chamber, who &s;eemed not to be di&s;plea&s;ed at this Freedom, but agreed &s;o well with him that they left the u&s;e of their Di&s;cour&s;e, though not of their Enjoyment of their Plea&s;ures, which they continued to take &s;o long together, that &s;he found her &s;elf with Child in a &s;mall time, of which being to be delivered, &s;he made a Journey to <HI>Farmontier</HI> un|der pretence of &s;eeing &s;ome Nuns of her Kindred there, where hav|ing been &s;ome time, &s;he was brought to Bed of a Boy (which dyed &s;ince at <HI>Somiers,</HI> where he
<PB N="89" REF="51">was at Nur&s;e) whither, although it was very difficult for Father <HI>Fa|verolles</HI> to lie out of his Covent, He did not fail to go to vi&s;it Ma|dam <HI>du Tillait</HI> at the time of her lying in; from whence as &s;oon as he had given order for the nur&s;ing of his little Je&s;uit, he came back to <HI>Paris,</HI> whither he was hardly come when he received an order from his Superiour to go to <HI>Ami|ens</HI> (for I know not what Affair) but however having heard there that Madam <HI>du Tillait</HI> was very ill, he left all the bu&s;ine&s;s of his order, and went to her, whom finding much better than he expected, and his bu&s;ine&s;s at <HI>Amiens</HI> not per|mitting him to be long ab&s;ent, he returned thither the next after he had recommended her to the care to one <HI>Puard</HI> a Chyrurgion, who had brought her to Bed, and orde|red him to have a great care of
<PB N="90" REF="52">her health, which he did to &s;o good effect, that with that and his being a han&s;om Fellow, he got &s;o far into her favour that he had care of her Plea&s;ures as well as her Lying-Inn, in which he plea&s;ed her &s;o, that now he was got into the Je&s;uits place in his ab&s;ence, who when he came back (in four Months time, during which he could not po&s;&s;ibly quit his bu&s;i|ne&s;s) found his Mi&s;tre&s;s with Child of <HI>Picard.</HI> It did not a little per|plex the Lady to find out how to di&s;cover the Truth to the good Fa|ther, but finding it mu&s;t come out &s;oon or late (he never leaving her) &s;he re&s;olved to break the Ice with|out delaying it further, which &s;he thought it be&s;t to do in Confe&s;&s;ion to him, in which &s;he told him all that happened between her and the Chyrurgion, but withal a&s;&s;u|red him that it was only to keep
<PB N="91" REF="52">the thing &s;ecret, however this thing &s;o troubled the Father that he had utterly broken with her, had he not known People of his Sort did not always meet with &s;uch good Fortunes, wherefore he thought it not convenient to lo&s;e this, and thereupon only made her &s;ome few reproaches, but &s;he quickly &s;hut his mouth, by telling him it was not ju&s;t for him to reproach her for any thing &s;he had told him under the Zeal of Confe&s;&s;ion: Some time after this they came together to <HI>Paris</HI> where the Father's Amour being known by the Je&s;uit, they checked him &s;everely for it, and for the preventing any further communication betwixt them, they ordered him to go to <HI>Moulins,</HI> but in&s;tead of obeying their order he retired into Madam <HI>du Tillait</HI>'s hou&s;e, of which the Je&s;uit not be|ing informed were more than a
<PB N="92" REF="53">year without knowing what was become of him, till at length they heard he kept hou&s;e with his be|loved Lady, from whence they got an order from the King to have him brought home to them, which was accordingly executed by an Exempt of the King's Guards, who found him at Madam <HI>du Tillait</HI>'s hou&s;e in Bed with her at &s;ix of the Clock in the Morning, from whence not having any Clothes on, he was carried immediatly to the Je&s;uit, who to puni&s;h his open and immode&s;t behaviour, put him in Pace <HI>(i. e.)</HI> into their Dungeon for &s;ix Months, during which time the Lady made a &s;hift to con&s;olate her &s;elf with abundance of Abbots, who were in Love with her, a|mong&s;t whom there were the Ab|bot <HI>Fournier Foreas de Treville du Four,</HI> and many others of her Acquaintance, which would take
<PB N="93" REF="53">up too much time to name them, came in &s;uch Numbers that her who hou&s;e &s;eemed to be the Con|cation Hou&s;e of the Clergy.</P>
<P>As &s;oon as Father <HI>Faverolles</HI> was out of Pri&s;on he left the Je&s;uit, and being retired into &s;ome Cor|ner out of the Je&s;uits Knowledge, he obtained by the Intere&s;t of &s;ome Per&s;ons of Quality a Di&s;pen&s;ation for leaving the Je&s;uit Habit, and becoming a Secular Prie&s;t.</P>
<P>Some time before this he got in|to Madam <HI>du Tillait</HI>'s Favour a|gain, at who&s;e hou&s;e there happe|ned to him a very plea&s;ant Adven|ture with Abbot <HI>Fournier,</HI> who then held the fir&s;t place in the La|dies affections, for after having lived there in &s;ecret near a Month, he was forced to retire, which hap|pened thus, the Ladies Woman had at la&s;t di&s;covered to the Abbot that he was in the hou&s;e and promi&s;ed
<PB N="94" REF="54">him to bring him where he &s;hould find them together, and &s;o he might by threatning the Father, which out of the fear of being caught there the &s;econd time might make quitt the Ladies Company, in order to which De&s;ign &s;he hid him in her Chamber, and told him that her Lady and &s;he always kept a Di&s;h of their Supper, and carried it to the Father whil&s;t the Servants were at Supper below, &s;he bad him al&s;o be &s;ure, (as &s;oon as he &s;hould &s;ee a Candle pa&s;s by &s;uch a &s;tair-ca&s;e where the Father's Cham|ber was) to come at the &s;ame time to the Door, where as &s;oon as he &s;hould knock &s;he would go to the Door, making her Mi&s;tre&s;s believe &s;he thought it to be another Maid of the Hou&s;e, that knew of the Fa|ther's being in the hou&s;e; in fine, they ordered their Intrigue &s;o well, that it fell out as they de&s;ired.</P>
<PB N="95" REF="54">
<P>For the Lady being come home, but at Eleven of the Clock the Fa|ther's Supper was not carried to him pa&s;t Eleven, where as &s;oon as the Lady and her Maid was with him, the Abbot comes up to them and knocks at the Door, and the Maid opens it to him, who came in and immediately asked Father <HI>Fa|verolles</HI> how he dared be &s;o bold as to be at Madam <HI>duTillait</HI>'s hou&s;e af|ter he had bin fetched from thence by the King's Expre&s;s Command, to which the good Father Je&s;uit being not of a very patient temper, an&s;wered &s;omewhat angryly, tell|ing him, that was not his bu&s;ine&s;s, and therefore he needed not con|cern him&s;elf any further in it; but the Lady doubting they would come (as it &s;eems they did) to blows, de&s;ired them both to make no more noi&s;e in her hou&s;e, &s;aying to the Abbot, that as for him &s;he
<PB N="96" REF="55">had a better opinion of his Wi&s;|dom than to believe he would make any di&s;order in her hou&s;e, and as for the good Father, &s;he doth not doubt but that he being of the Society of <HI>Je&s;us,</HI> will have &s;o much patience as to let the Affair pa&s;s without any noi&s;e, but not|with&s;tanding all his precaution and de&s;ire of the Lady, the Father bad the Abbot go out of the Room immediately, at which the Abbot making &s;port, he took a Di&s;h which the Lady had brought him wherein there was a Frica&s;&s;ee boyling hot and made the Abbot a Mask with it, in which moment the Abbot al&s;o took up an Ewer and flung it at his head, after which they fell upon one another and made &s;o much noi&s;e in the Fray, that &s;ome feuillant Monks (of whom Madam <HI>du Tallait</HI> ren|ted her hou&s;e) that were &s;aying
<PB N="97" REF="55">Mattins, hearing all this bu&s;tle through their Church Windows, which look into her Court, thought there were Thieves in the Hou&s;e, &s;o that the Father Procurator of the Covent, who was booted and &s;purred, ready to go to look after &s;ome bu&s;ine&s;s at a Country Hou&s;e belonging to the Covent, was &s;ent to her aid and went &s;traight up to the Chamber where he heard the Noi&s;e, with &s;ome of her Servants that he had told the rea&s;on of his coming thither (they having heard nothing of the noi&s;e before) where having knocked at the door as hard as he could, and no body an&s;we|ring, he was confirmed in his opini|on that they were Thieves, and that they had killed the Lady, upon which he and the &s;ervants re&s;olved to break it open, which the Lady perceiving, thinking &s;he mu&s;t at la&s;t open it, re&s;olved to let it be
<PB N="98" REF="56">half open to the Monk (which was better than to be &s;een with Father <HI>Faverolles</HI> by all her &s;ervants) which &s;he did, but withal com|manding her &s;ervants to be gone, and let the Monk come in alone, which &s;he hoped might make an agreement betwixt the&s;e two an|gry Lovers, which accordingly he did, &s;o that they both agreed, but it was in falling out with and vent|ing all their anger upon the Lady, reproaching her with her ill Life, and other things of that nature, but at length being all agreed, they all three de&s;ired the <HI>Fevillant Monk</HI> to be &s;ilent and not to di&s;co|ver this adventure, but he being de|&s;irous to gain by this occa&s;ion, told them that the only means for them to be a&s;&s;ured of his keeping their Secret, was for him to be in a con|dition that &s;hould al&s;o need their keeping a Secret for him, by which
<PB N="99" REF="56">he made them under&s;tand, and by other good Rea&s;ons that he would not retire from thence upon any other conditions than enjoying Madam <HI>du Tillait,</HI> which the two o|ther Lovers at length granted, and went out of the Chamber leaving the Monk with the Lady booted as he was, who not being u&s;ed to &s;uch favourable opportunities made very good u&s;e of this.</P>
<P>The next morning after this af|fair Father <HI>Faverolles</HI> left Madam <HI>du Tillait</HI>'s Hou&s;e for fear the Ab|bot &s;hould inform the Je&s;uit of his being there, and thereby once more be put in <HI>Pace,</HI> but the Lady not being willing to be far off from a man that had &s;o many good amo|rous Qualities, as <HI>Faverolles</HI> had, took a Chamber at a Surgeon's Hou&s;e over again&s;t the <HI>Sorbon,</HI> where &s;he &s;eldom let a day &s;lip without vi&s;iting him, which Ab|bot
<PB N="100" REF="57"><HI>Fournier</HI> (who I think was born to be a Scourge to <HI>Faverolles</HI>) knowing by the Ladies Woman, who &s;aid her Lady went every day to that Chyrurgeon's Hou&s;e, but &s;he did not know to whom it was &s;he gave the Vi&s;it, for &s;he was always &s;ent back with the Coach home, how ever this &s;oon made him think it to be <HI>Faverolles,</HI> but that he might be certain of it, he re&s;olved to watch at the Chyrur|geon's Door, which he did one day when the Woman told him her Lady was there, where having &s;taid &s;ome time he e&s;pied two little Dogs which Madam <HI>du Til|lait</HI> carries always with her, which he immediately followed up &s;tairs to the Chamber door where their Mi&s;tre&s;s was (after having done what he could to catch the Dogs before) but he being di&s;gui&s;ed in a grey Cloak they did not know
<PB N="101" REF="57">him) whither as &s;oon as he came one of the Dogs &s;cratched at the Door, upon which the Abbot caught him up, and hearkned at the Door, in which moment the Lady having-heard her Dog &s;cratch, came to open the Door, which as &s;oon as &s;he had done the Abbot &s;tept in and told her he having found her Dogs in the Street, had endeavoured to catch them, but they running away from him he had followed them that they might not be lo&s;t, but withal that he was very &s;orry he had followed them &s;o far as to interrupt her Enter|tainment.</P>
<P>Notwith&s;tanding all the&s;e pre|tences the Father thinking he had done all this to catch him, imme|diately gave him a box on the car, after which there being no body to part them, they fought &s;o heartily that they were forced both at la&s;t
<PB N="102" REF="58">to make u&s;e of the Man of the Hou&s;e who was a Chyrurgeon.</P>
<P>The Abbot threatned the Father &s;o much this time al&s;o that he was forced to leave the Town for fear of further di&s;covery, and take a Hou&s;e at <HI>I&s;ey</HI> a Village near <HI>Paris,</HI> where the Lady vi&s;ited him very often, though not without enter|taining at the &s;ame time many o|ther Gallants, among&s;t whom there was one Mr. <HI>L' Avocat,</HI> a Fellow that has neither Wit nor breeding, but yet a Ma&s;ter of Re|que&s;ts of the King's Hou&s;hold, was Chief, as being one of the greate&s;t Fops &s;he could induce to love her, yet having got &s;ome money from him, and a pair of white Flanders Coach-Hor&s;es, he had the fir&s;t place in her affections, next him was <HI>Guerin</HI> her Steward, who had a great &s;hare of her Favours, and often of her Bed, where being
<PB N="103" REF="58">one Night, there happened a plea|&s;ant adventure, which was, that three Rivals &s;hould meet at a time when it was almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible they &s;hould &s;ee one another, in order to the unfolding of which you mu&s;t know Madam that <HI>L' Avocat</HI> had for Confident one of the Ladies Foot-men, and Abbot <HI>Fournier</HI> one of her Maids.</P>
<P>The Lady not being di&s;plea&s;ed at their catching her, agreeably continues in Bed, they often hid them&s;elves &s;omewhere till &s;he was in Bed, and then came to her which the Abbot doing once in her Maids Chamber, and <HI>L' Avocate</HI> in the Foot-mans, and the Lady happe|ning to have that Night <HI>Guerin</HI> in her Bed who having been in Bed &s;ometime, tho&s;e Lovers al&s;o that were hid came into her Chamber each of them thinking to be the only one there, but both coming
<PB N="104" REF="59">in at the &s;ame time, &s;he bad the Steward hide him&s;elf under the Bed, and asked who was there, to which <HI>L' Avocate</HI> &s;aid, it is I Ma|dam, who come to pa&s;s a quarter of an hours time with you, to which &s;he an&s;wered, truly Sir, it is too late now, not too late, Madam, replied the Abbot, for it has but ju&s;t now &s;truck twelve of the Clock; truly, Sir, replied the La|dy, I took you for <HI>L' Avocate,</HI> and &s;o it is truly, &s;aid <HI>L' Avocate,</HI> on the other &s;ide of the Bed, who then came to the Bed-&s;ide, and flung him|&s;elf upon the Bed, &s;o as to meet the Abbot (that was by this time got to the other &s;ide of the Bed) and took him by the hand, whom he asked, when they knew one ano|ther, why he that might come at any time to the Lady, being &s;o near a Neighbour, &s;hould come at that time of the Night, to which the
<PB N="105" REF="59">Abbot, an&s;wered very angrily that he wondered how he &s;hould come thither from his Hou&s;e at the other end of <HI>Paris</HI> &s;o late at night, after which they gave one the other ve|ry ill Language, which had come to blows, if they had had any mind to fight, or if the Lady had not promi&s;ed to give them all ima|ginable &s;atisfaction, which agreed upon at la&s;t among&s;t them thus that <HI>L' Avocate</HI> being farthe&s;t off his Lodgings &s;hould be the fir&s;t two hours with the Lady, after which the Abbot &s;hould come, and that in the mean time the Abbot &s;hould retire into another of the Ladies Chambers. The&s;e two being &s;atisfi|ed there remained only poor <HI>Guerin</HI> un&s;atisfied, who was very ill lodg|ed under the Bed in his &s;hirt with|out hopes of getting any thing by the Treaty till the Abbot had done with the Lady whom he left at &s;ix
<PB N="106" REF="60">in the Morning, and gave him his place in the Ladies Bed, where he took his full revenge of them, which was not unwelcome to the Lady; in fine, Loves fea&s;t was ne|ver better &s;olemnized in this world than this night by three Lovers, who all went away with &s;o great a &s;atisfaction, that they had not the lea&s;t Jealou&s;ie or Malice left them.</P>
<P>Here, Madam, I mu&s;t beg your leave to fini&s;h this &s;mall account of Madam <HI>du Tillait,</HI> wherein you will be plea&s;ed to believe there is nothing of Fal&s;hood, &s;ince I a&s;&s;ure you I know of <HI>Faverolles</HI> (who is now my very good Friend, and is &s;ince fallen out with the Lady) all that happened between him and the Lady whereof I have re|trenched the greate&s;t part, as not being fit for your Ears. As to <HI>Chanteau</HI>'s affairs, I knew it from
<PB N="107" REF="60">the Ladies Woman, who was then with her; and as for that of the Court Gentlemans, it made &s;o great a Noi&s;e in the World, that I be|lieve it is unknown to very few.</P>
<P>As for that of her Steward, it was related to me by him&s;elf &s;ince he came from her, in a Month after which, he was found a&s;&s;a&s;&s;inated at the Port Saint <HI>Jacques,</HI> but by whom it is not yet known.</P>
<P>Since it plea&s;ed you, Madam, to de&s;ire me to di&s;gui&s;e nothing in this Relation, I hope you will not be di&s;plea&s;ed at the too great Li|berty I have taken, and that you will believe as a great truth, that I e&s;teem nothing &s;o much in this World as your Self, and all things that have any relation to you.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
