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<NAME>Greg Schutz</NAME>
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THE HISTORY OF PHILOXYPES AND POLYCRITE, As it was told by <HI>LEONTIDES</HI> to the great CYRUS.</P>
<P>Engli&s;hed out of <HI>French,</HI> by an Honourable ANTI-SOCORDIST.</P>
<Q><HI>Ex pede Hercules.</HI></Q>
<P><HI>London,</HI> Printed for <HI>Humphrey Mo&s;eley,</HI> and are to be &s;old at his Shop in S^^t <HI>Pauls Church-yard</HI> at the &s;ign of the Prince's Arms. 1652.</P>
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<HEAD>THE HISTORY OF PHILOXYPES AND POLICRITE: As it was told by <HI>Leontidas,</HI> to <HI>Arta|mene,</HI> or the great <HI>Cyrus.</HI></HEAD>
<P>_THAT you may the better under&s;tand this Story, it is requi&s;ite that you know part of the Cu&s;tomes of this I&s;land, the which I will in a few words acquaint you with, that my en&s;uing Di&s;cour&s;e may appear le&s;&s;e tedious to you. You mu&s;t then know, Sir, that this goodly I&s;land,
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which for its precinct, &s;ituation, fertility, for the beauty and greatnes of its Towns, and its Magnificent Temples, pa&s;&s;eth for the mo&s;t famous and mo&s;t con&s;iderable of as many as lie on the <HI>Aegean Sea,</HI> hath al|ways been con&s;ecrated to <HI>Venus;</HI> and that love, which every where el&s;e is a pa&s;&s;ion, which hath no particular priviledges, is in this place accounted a religious act. All that are born here, &s;eem as if they were bound to love from their very birth; all the Temples are dedicated to <HI>Venus,</HI> under &s;everal name<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">; all the pictures and &s;tatues here, repre&s;ent only this Godde&s;s, and depend only upon her. You &s;hall finde here <HI>Cupid</HI> &s;et out every where, and tho&s;e who in&s;truct us el&s;ewhere virtuou&s;ly in our youth, by teaching us how to over|come ambition, anger, hatred, envy, and all other pa&s;&s;ions; deal otherwi&s;e with us here, per&s;wading us only how to love in|nocently. But as there is nothing &s;o pure or refined, which meets not with alterati|on and corruption at the la&s;t; a &s;trange di&s;order crope in long &s;ince among&s;t us: for you mu&s;t know the fir&s;t Temple which was con&s;ecrated to <HI>Venus,</HI> was that of <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> who we &s;ay, is the daugh|ter
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of Heaven. This <HI>Venus</HI> as we believe, in|&s;pires only rational re&s;entments, and ver|tuous pa&s;&s;ions: whereas on the contrary, there are &s;ome Temples on the utmo&s;t borders of the I&s;le towards the South, built long &s;ince the former, which are dedicated to <HI>Venus Anodema,</HI> as much as to &s;ay, to <HI>Venus</HI> comming forth from the foam of the &s;ea. Now Sir, the&s;e Temples doe differ very much, as doe their re&s;ent|ments, who offer &s;acrifices at them; yet as tho&s;e Religions wherein Libertini&s;m pa&s;&s;eth for a vertue, are grounded with mo&s;t ea&s;e, the Religion of <HI>Venus Anadio|mena,</HI> hath for a long time prevailed over that of <HI>Venus Urania;</HI> and our I&s;land hath &s;een things which makes tho&s;e even blu&s;h with confu&s;ion, who remember they have heard them &s;poken of by their forefa|thers: but thanks to Heaven, a vertuous Queen, who lived &s;ome &s;ixty years &s;ince, did re-e&s;tabli&s;h all the Temples of <HI>Venus Urania;</HI> made almo&s;t all tho&s;e of <HI>Venus A|nadiomena,</HI> be beaten down; aboli&s;ht all the &s;hameful cu&s;tomes which were intro|duced in <HI>Cyprus,</HI> and left only pure re|&s;entments among&s;t us of that pa&s;&s;ion, which is the &s;oul of the Univer&s;e, and
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which is the &s;ole entertainer of civil &s;ocie|ty. We are now taught to love our God|de&s;&s;e, our Princes, our Laws, our Coun|trie, our fellow-Citizens, our Parents, Bre|thren, Wives and Children; and la&s;tly, to love our &s;elves, to the end that we may do no &s;hameful act. We are taught al&s;o to love Glory, Sciences and Arts; to love in|nocent pa&s;times, and to love beauty and vertue above all that hath been &s;poken of: in fine, we are taught that he who loves not, is not rational, and that not to have a &s;en&s;e of all the&s;e aforementio|ned things, is to be very much to blame. You may ea&s;ily imagine then, that this be|ing a belief generally held among&s;t us, the Court of <HI>Cyprus</HI> mu&s;t needs be a plea&s;ing abode, &s;ince every one there loves hand|&s;ome actions, and hand&s;ome per&s;onages. True it is, that according to the rules of <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> the love by her permitted, is &s;o pure, &s;o innocent, &s;o free from having any thing to doe with the &s;en&s;es, and &s;o free from fault, as &s;he &s;eems to &s;uffer us to love others only, that we may make our &s;elves become the more lovely, through our care of meriting true glory, of becoming accompli&s;ht, and of getting
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that Courtly Air, and plea&s;ing conver&s;ati|on, which is only in&s;pired by love. This Sir, is the pre&s;ent condition of our I&s;land; all delights are here, but all innocent. Love is the predominant, and univer&s;all pa&s;&s;ion in it, but &s;uch a pa&s;&s;ion, as is not incompatible with vertue and mode&s;ty, and which hinders not many lovers from complaining of their Mi&s;tre&s;&s;es rigour. Publick fe&s;tivals are here frequent, con|ver&s;ation free enough, but wholly &s;piritu|all, games for prizes very u&s;ual, plea&s;ing Bals, excellent Mu&s;ick, and Women in general, infinitely hand&s;ome, full of gal|lantry, and perfectly vertuous. But of all the re&s;t, the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Salmis,</HI> &s;i&s;ter to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> was the Court-Star, till &s;uch time as &s;he withdrew her &s;elf from thence. The Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Agghari&s;ta,</HI> now Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Cicily,</HI> is al&s;o very taking, and the famous <HI>Artaphil</HI> doubtle&s;ly bears a great renown. To boot with the&s;e there is one called <HI>Timoclea,</HI> and an hundred o|thers, of &s;omewhat a meaner condition, which are wonderfully hand&s;om. But Sir, le&s;t I may prove too tedious, I will brief|ly tell you that the King who now reigns in <HI>Cyprus,</HI> is but two years elder then
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Prince <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who is de&s;cended from the Race of <HI>Demophon,</HI> &s;on to <HI>The&s;eus,</HI> who is held in great e&s;teem among&s;t us. <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> in his yonger years, you may ea&s;ily judge was one of the lovelie&s;t per&s;onages which could be &s;een; for though he be now twenty eight years old, he continues to be &s;o extraordinarily hand&s;ome, and &s;o well behaved, as it may ea&s;ily be gue&s;t what he was when a childe; and though he were wi&s;e even from his cradle, and knowing, even from the time he began to &s;peak, yet cea&s;ed he not to be of a plea|&s;ing humour, and comportment, &s;uch as is only infu&s;ed by youth, and the air of the Court, and which is the charm of conver&s;ation among&s;t Ladies. In fine, &s;et one article a&s;ide, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> may be truly &s;aid, to have fully &s;atisfied and made good all the precepts of <HI>Venus Urania.</HI></P>
<P>He reverenced the Godde&s;&s;e, he loved his Prince, kept the Laws, he loved his Country, his fellow Citizens, was am|bitious of glory, which he went inque&s;t of at fifteen years of age in the <HI>Mile&s;ean</HI> War, wherein he gave &s;ingular te&s;timo|ny of his carriage. He loved the Scien|ces, and all the liberal Arts; delighted in
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innocent pa&s;times, and loved vertue a|bove all things; but as for beauty, he had only a general admiration for it, and ne|ver felt in him&s;elf, any particular addi|ction or adheration to any what&s;oever hand&s;ome Lady. You may imagin Sir, how &s;trange this in&s;en&s;ibility appeared, in a Court where it met not with any exam|ple, and in a man &s;o fit to occa&s;ion love. Yet was he &s;o lovely, as he was not for this the le&s;&s;e beloved; he was &s;o liberal, &s;o magnifical, &s;o full of complacency, and &s;o civilly behaved, as he was the wonder of the world.</P>
<P>When <HI>Solon</HI> after having e&s;tabli&s;ht tho&s;e famous Laws at <HI>Athens,</HI> went from thence, re&s;olving to forgoe his Country for ten years, to the end that he might make no alteration there, he came to our Court; <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who was then but eighteen years old, had a great affection for him, as he had likewi&s;e for <HI>Philoxetes;</HI> in&s;omuch, that as long as <HI>Solon</HI> abode in our I&s;le, <HI>Phi|loxetes</HI> gave over all his other delights, and the frequenting of the Ladies companies to fa&s;ten him&s;elf totally to him: whom that he might enjoy with the more free|dome, he carried him to a Town of his
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which is called <HI>Apia;</HI> built by <HI>Demaphon</HI> in a very &s;trong, but rocky &s;ituation, and of hard acce&s;&s;e, all the Countrey about it being craggy, dry, and exceeding barren. <HI>Solon</HI> being come thither, &s;hewed him how that they that laid the foundations of that Town, might have made it much more plea&s;anter, if they had built it upon the banks of the River <HI>Claria,</HI> in a &s;paci|ous and fertile plain, which lies at the foot of the Mountain, where the other Town was &s;ituated; hardly had <HI>Solon</HI> &s;poke his thought, when <HI>Philoxypes</HI> re&s;ol|ved to put it in execution, and began al|ready to give all nece&s;&s;ary orders for it. And indeed <HI>Solon</HI> was the Architect who guided this great enterpri&s;e, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> giving him the glory thereof, for he cal|led this new Town <HI>Soly,</HI> to perpetuate the memory of the name of <HI>Solon.</HI> This place being not far from <HI>Paphos,</HI> one of our Kings mo&s;t u&s;ual abodes, they went oft to the Court; where our Ladies com|plained &s;ometimes of <HI>Solon,</HI> who by be|reaving them of <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> bereft them of their faire&s;t ornament; and to &s;hew you how great this Prince his inflexibility was, <HI>Solon</HI> who&s;e vertue is not au&s;tere, to
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ju&s;tifie him&s;elf to tho&s;e that blamed <HI>Philoxypes</HI> for this, telling him that love was a pa&s;&s;ion, which &s;weetned all other pa&s;&s;ions, and which did &s;ometimes exceed them all. That for his part, he confe&s;t he would never &s;et his whole heart again&s;t it, and that he thought it no &s;hame to be once in his life overcome thereby. <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> &s;aid in his defence, that he loved all that was lovely, that he had a pa&s;&s;ion for all beautiful objects, and that no man ever lov'd &s;o much as he. But notwith&s;tan|ding all his univer&s;al affections, there was no one &s;o fair in all the Court, who could boa&s;t in her particular to have inthralled his heart; and who peradventure had not more then once con&s;ulted with her gla&s;&s;e, to know by what innocent art this &s;o fa|mous heart might be taken: but at la&s;t, after having &s;taid a good while, <HI>Solon</HI> went his way much taken with <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his ver|tue, and made &s;ome ver&s;es in his prai&s;e before he imbarked for <HI>Egypt.</HI> He who was commended by all <HI>Greece,</HI> did highly commend this young Prince; &s;aying, that Nature had taught <HI>Philoxypes</HI> in eighteen years, what Art could not teach in an Age, and that a man might &s;ee in him by
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way of prodigy, all the ages of man put together; that is to &s;ay, the innocence of infancy, the charms of youth, the forti|tude of a more advanced age, and the wi&s;dome of old age. After his depar|ture, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was &s;omewhat melancho|ly, but this humour being over, he &s;pent &s;ome time in travel, and did not only &s;ee whole <HI>Greece,</HI> but likewi&s;e the famous Ci|ty of <HI>Carthage,</HI> which did then wage war with the <HI>Ma&s;siliens,</HI> who inhabit a place which they have of late made famous, by a cry'd up Academy, wherein eloquence, and all the <HI>Grecian</HI> Sciences are rarely well taught.</P>
<P>I will not relate unto you all the gal|lant actions he did in <HI>Africa,</HI> nor what befel him during that Journey, which continued till &s;ome moneths before you came to <HI>Cyprus;</HI> where <HI>Solon</HI> &s;tayed a|while again, not &s;uffering him&s;elf to be &s;een almo&s;t by any one. But I will tell you that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> at his return to Court, charm'd all the world; and that the King him&s;elf grew &s;o far in love with him, as never was known &s;o great a favour as his, nor yet &s;o little envyed; neither did he make u&s;e thereof, but for his Ma&s;ters glo|ry,
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and to do good to as many as he could; he rceceived no rewards, but to enrich &s;uch as &s;tood in need thereof; all the ad|vi&s;es he gave, were good; he did none but good offices: and thus he &s;tood fair in the opinion of the great ones, and of the people, as well as in that of the King; and there were none but our Ladies who continued to accu&s;e him of inflexibility. Thus did he live amid&s;t delights, in the &s;tatelie&s;t and mo&s;t gallant Court of all the world, without envy, without love, and without melancholy. But the King was not this mean while &s;o happy as he; for after having had &s;ome flitting pa&s;&s;ions, w^c^h had notwith&s;tanding much di&s;quieted him, he fell mightily in love with the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile,</HI> who certainly is very beautiful, and hath an hundred good qualities; but who withal this was ex|treamly ambitious. The King was no &s;ooner aware of the violence of this his pa&s;&s;ion, but that he di&s;covered it to <HI>Phi|loxypes,</HI> and entreated him to intercede for him with <HI>Aretephile,</HI> who at that time did often vi&s;it the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Agari&s;ta,</HI> &s;i&s;ter to <HI>Philoxypes.</HI> You may imagin this Prince did not refu&s;e to a&s;&s;i&s;t him, &s;ince his affe|ction
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was innocent; yet did he &s;ometimes crave pardon of the King, if he did not much bewail him in his di&s;quiets: For Sir, &s;aid he, love being a malady which I am not acquainted with, and which I have much to imagine is &s;o great as man would have it thought, I confe&s;&s;e I doe not &s;o much compa&s;&s;ionate your Maje&s;ty, as perdaventure I ought; &amp; con&s;equently, I may perchance not &s;o fully exaggerate your &s;ufferings as I &s;hould do, when I &s;peak with the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile.</HI> Fear not <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;aid the King, that I com|plain of your inflexibility; on the con|trary, if you had a more tender heart, I would not have cho&s;en you for the con|fident of my pa&s;&s;ion: and did I think that you could become my rival, I would not give you Commi&s;&s;ion to &s;peak &s;o of ten with my beloved Prince&s;&s;e. But my intention not being to &s;peak of the Kings love, otherwi&s;e then as it relates nece&s;|&s;arily to <HI>Philoxypes</HI> adventures; I will on|ly tell you that though <HI>Aretephile</HI> were ra|vi&s;ht to &s;ee her &s;elf beloved by the King, yet aiming at the Crown of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> &s;he thought &s;he was a little to di&s;gui&s;e her &s;en&s;e thereof, and to make it a harder
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matter for the King to win her, then &s;he had found it to win the King: So as this Prince&s;&s;e behaved her &s;elf with much di&s;|cretion and re&s;ervedne&s;&s;e, and mingling continually &s;everity with mildne&s;&s;e, the King &s;tood long in need of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> a&s;&s;i|&s;tance, whom <HI>Aretephile,</HI> who knew what power he had with the King, u&s;ed with all po&s;&s;ible civility. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was not|with&s;tanding &s;ometimes much troubled at the continuance of this pa&s;&s;ion, which made him for his recreation, go to a very &s;tately hou&s;e, which the famous <HI>Solon</HI> had cau&s;ed to be built for him neer <HI>Soly,</HI> and wherein he had made a collection of what|&s;oever <HI>Greece</HI> had of mo&s;t rare &amp; curious, were it either for pictures, or &s;tatues. In this place it was, which is called <HI>Claria,</HI> where wondring &s;ometimes at the Kings pa&s;&s;ion, he did me the honor to bemoan him&s;elf to me of his employmen, and he him&s;elf gave me a thou&s;and plea&s;ant marks of his inflexiblene&s;&s;e, by tho&s;e things which he uttered again&s;t love. This mean while though the King were much in love with <HI>Aretephile,</HI> yet he had &s;ome|what to do to per&s;wade him&s;elf to marry her, becau&s;e indeed in rea&s;on he &s;hould
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much rather have married the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Thimoclea,</HI> by rea&s;on of &s;ome claim &s;he pretended to have to the Principality of <HI>Amathu&s;a;</HI> in&s;omuch as the King being yet unre&s;olved what to doe, had not as yet acquainted <HI>Aretephile,</HI> nor let her be ac|quainted that his love tended meerly to &s;et her upon the Throne; but only fol|lowing the cu&s;tome of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> he had &s;uf|ficiently witne&s;&s;ed his &s;ervice, and to purcha&s;e her e&s;teem, had done what&s;oe|ver a hand&s;ome and ingenious Prince &s;e|conded by <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> could doe, who though he were him&s;elf in&s;en&s;ible of love, was notwith&s;tanding a very great gallant; &s;o as <HI>Aretephile</HI> who was ab&s;olute|ly re&s;olved never to part with her heart for le&s;&s;e then a Crown, treated the King &s;ometimes &s;everely enough, in|&s;omuch as the whole Court was troubled thereat, and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> delight lay onely in Hunting, and in his &s;tately Country hou&s;e. Some other times <HI>Aretephile</HI> fea|ring le&s;t &s;he her &s;elf might extingui&s;h the fire which &s;he had kindled in the Kings heart, was &s;omewhat more kinde unto him, and by the Prince his Joy, rejoy|ced the whole Court. 'Twas then in one
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of the&s;e plea&s;ant conjuncture of times, that <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> to oblige the King, made the Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Salamis</HI> his &s;i&s;ter, and the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Aghari&s;ta</HI> doe him the honour to entertain the King upon a day that he invited the King and all the Court to goe from <HI>Paphos</HI> to <HI>Claria,</HI> and to pa&s;&s;e one whole day in his retiredne&s;s, which indeed de&s;erved to receive &s;o Princely a company. Never was there &s;o gallant an A&s;&s;embly as this; it was wholly compo&s;ed of young and hand&s;om per&s;onages, of great birth, and under|&s;tanding: and one would have &s;aid, that fortune had favoured <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> in orde|ring it &s;o as that all per&s;ons of quality who were peevi&s;h or of ill humour in the Court, were either &s;ick that day, or bu&s;i|ed about &s;ome important affairs, &s;o as this well compacted company was not troubled with the importunity of any of their companies: On what &s;ide &s;oever they did ca&s;t their eye, they met with nothing but goodly objects, there was no fear of being wearied or anoyed. <HI>Philo|xypes</HI> had taken &s;uch excellent order for all things, were it either for the &s;tately furniture of the hou&s;e, for the magnifi|cency
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of the Fea&s;t, or the excellency of the Mu&s;ick, as the King to give him the highe&s;t prai&s;e he could, &s;aid aloud, that if <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had been in love, and that his Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e had been in that company, he could have done no more then he did. On the contrary, Sir, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> I think that if I had been in love, all things would have been much more in di&s;order, then they are; it &s;eeming impo&s;&s;ible to me that a man &s;hould lo&s;e his rea&s;on, and yet have lei&s;ure enough to think of &s;uch trivial affairs. The King began then to oppo&s;e <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> and to tell him that he did little know the effects of this pa&s;&s;i|on; and this he did more then once, as well for that he could hardly find a more plea&s;ing entertainment by di&s;cour&s;e, as al&s;o that by reproaching <HI>Philoxypes</HI> with his ignorance of love; he thereby found an opportune means to make the Prin|ce&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile,</HI> who li&s;ten'd unto him, know that the pa&s;&s;ion he had for her, had made him very expert therein, <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> did defend him&s;elf the be&s;t he could. Sometimes he &s;aid the fear of not being beloved kept him from loving; &s;ometimes that he had &s;o nice a &s;oul as did avoid
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&s;uch plea&s;ures as could not be purcha&s;ed without pain; and con&s;equently that love not being a voluntary thing, he was not to blame for that he did not love: and for his la&s;t rea&s;on, he &s;aid that the difficulty of the choice made him that he neither did, nor could re&s;olve on any; for Sir, &s;aid he to the King, how is it po&s;&s;ible to have the affrontedne&s;s to prefer any one of &s;o many hand&s;ome per&s;onages as I &s;ee before all the re&s;t? Ah, <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;aid the King, the more you &s;peak of love, the more pity doe you move in me; and (&s;peaking low in his ear) the more &s;aid he doe you make me &s;ee that my Con|fident will never bee my rival. After this, all the Ladies, and all the men of quality, began to argue the matter with him; he did &s;ometime almo&s;t hate them all for their reproaching him with his in|flexibility. When they had dined, <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> led all this fair a&s;&s;embly into a &s;tately gallery, painted all over by the hand of an excellent Ma&s;ter, named <HI>Man|drocles,</HI> who is of the I&s;le of <HI>Samos,</HI> and who having fini&s;ht this rare work, &s;ome few days before this great Fea&s;t, was returned to his own Countrey.</P>
<P><PB N="18" REF="14">
The &s;tory of <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> was the &s;ub|ject of all tho&s;e pictures, in whom no|thing but mode&s;ty was to be di&s;cerned. The Painter had not drawn the Graces all naked, as they u&s;ually are drawn, but had clothed them in tran&s;parent tiffeny, which rendred all tho&s;e figures very de|lightful; in one of the draughts, you might &s;ee <HI>Venus</HI> de&s;cend from Heaven in a Chariot, all of burni&s;ht gold drawn by Swans; a thou&s;and little <HI>Cupids</HI> &s;eemed to hover about her, and to be the fir&s;t that lighted in the I&s;le of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> w^c^h is repre|&s;ented in the &s;ame piece, to prepare all things to receive her; in another piece, all tho&s;e little <HI>Cupidons,</HI> erected unto her an Altar of Turffs, and made dre&s;&s;ings of flowers to adorn her; in another piece, this Godde&s;s teacheth <HI>Cupid</HI> how to chu&s;e his golden &s;hafts, which he meant to u&s;e; and in another, &s;he put a Torch into his hand, and &s;hewing him the Sun which is painted at the top of that piece, &s;eems as if &s;he would tell him that &s;he would have the flames wherewith he &s;ets hearts on fire, to be more pure then the beams of this glorious con&s;tellation. In fine, Sir, this Godde&s;s is repre&s;ented in
<PB N="19" REF="14">
above twenty parts of this gallery; but though in different po&s;tures, you may &s;till di&s;cerne the &s;ame countenance. Though all in this Gallery bee beauti|full, this figure is incomparably be|yond all the re&s;t: all the re&s;t are pictures, but this &s;eems to be effectually a divine per&s;onage; for certainly there was never any thing &s;een of &s;o much hand&s;omne&s;&s;e; all the fair Ladies who <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had brought thither, were amazed to &s;ee it, and maugre them&s;elves confe&s;t that their gla&s;s &s;hewed them nothing like it. All their eyes were fixt upon a face &s;o full of beauty, and they all agreed in one, that the Painters imagination had far outdone what ever nature had done of mo&s;t ac|compli&s;ht. After they had well eyed this <HI>Venus,</HI> for my part, &s;aid the Prince&s;s <HI>A|retephile,</HI> I would fain know whether <HI>Philoxypes</HI> heart could re&s;i&s;t a per&s;onage who &s;hould perfectly re&s;emble this pi|cture? Since I have been able (replyed he) to behold all the&s;e Ladies that are here, without daring to profe&s;&s;e my &s;er|vice, it is to be believed, I &s;hould be as in&s;en&s;ible for her, or rather as full of re|&s;pect for her, as I have been for all the re&s;t that I &s;ee, who are no le&s;s fair then he
<PB N="20" REF="15">
this <HI>Venus.</HI> Tis not notwith&s;tanding (&s;aid he &s;milingly, and without any other de|&s;ign, then to &s;ay &s;omewhat of gallantry to entertain conver&s;ation) that I am not glad that this picture is only the effect of the famous <HI>Mandrocles</HI> imagination. For I confe&s;s unto you there is a certain char|ming, mode&s;t, and pa&s;&s;ionate aire in the eyes of this Godde&s;&s;e, which would per|adventure plea&s;e me too much, were it a living beauty. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had no &s;ooner &s;aid this, but all the company began to &s;mile at this fir&s;t mark of his tenderne&s;&s;e, which they had never before ob&s;erved in him. There was not any one of them who would not willingly, if it had been po&s;&s;ible, have in&s;pired life into this pi|cture, that they might &s;ee whether <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> might be bent by her or no; and whether his rebel heart to love, would prove proof again&s;t her extraordinary charms. If this could be, &s;aid Prince&s;s <HI>Thi|moclea,</HI> I wi&s;h at lea&s;t that this fair per&s;onage &s;hould have as much &s;weetne&s;s in her &s;oul as in her eyes, to the end that nothing might be wanting to <HI>Philoxypes</HI> happine&s;s. On the contrary, &s;aid the Prince&s;s of <HI>Sala|mis,</HI> me thinks it were to be wi&s;ht, that (to puni&s;h my brother for his inflexibili|ty)
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&s;he were as cruel, as fair; and I doubt me, added <HI>Aretephile,</HI> whether for his grea|ter puni&s;hment, &s;he were not to be wi&s;ht to be proud and &s;tupid: or rather, &s;aid Prince&s;s <HI>Agheri&s;ta,</HI> incon&s;tant, fickle, alte|ring her humour every day; and for his yet farther puni&s;hment, added the King &s;milingly, that &s;he were all that you all have &s;aid. At the&s;e words <HI>Philoxypes</HI> de|&s;ired &s;o much favour of them, as that they would &s;uffer him to enjoy that quiet which liberty be&s;towes on them who po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;e her: but the Sun being already low, he mentioned a walk to this fair company, who without re&s;i&s;tance glad|ly accepted thereof. He led them into a large plot of ground, which makes an I|&s;land; for he had drawn a branch of the River of <HI>Claria</HI> round about it. Pa&s;&s;ing from thence over a little bridge, with balla&s;ters of bra&s;s, he led them into an allie of Orange Trees, twelve hundred paces long, which the Sun could never get into, &s;o large are tho&s;e Trees, and &s;o thick covered with leaves and flowers. Amid&s;t this Allie there cro&s;&s;es a Channel of running water; at la&s;t you come to a place where eleven Allies cro&s;s one ano|ther;
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at the end of which, the river is every where &s;een, as if it were &s;o delighted with that place, as it were loth to leave it. All the&s;e Allies are either of Orange Trees, or Citron Trees, or Myrrhe, or Lawrel, or Pomegranats, or Palm Trees: but after being come to the end of one of the&s;e Allies, into which <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;ent them, they found them&s;elves in a large Meadow, which is cut through in the middle by the River, which gathered to|gether in that place, &s;eems to be a great channel, which hath on its banks neither canes, nor ru&s;hes, nor reeds, nor little &s;hrubs, but is only bordered by thick turff, and all be&s;princkled over with Flags of differing colours, with Narci&s;|&s;u&s;&s;es, with Lillies, and all other flow|ers, which love moi&s;ture and fre&s;hne&s;s. There are likewi&s;e on this River, great &s;tore of Swans, which &s;wim &s;o demurely, as you would think they were afraid to trouble the water which bears them up: and that there might nothing be wanting to this entertainment, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had &s;o ordered it, as this River was all covered over with Boats, made like Gallies, pain|ted with lively colours, and guided by
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young Boyes in Maratin apparel, but ve|ry hand&s;ome; who rowing gently with Oars painted red and green, came to the bank to receive this gallant company, who were played unto on ru&s;tick Mu&s;ick by yong Shepheards very quaintly clo|thed, who drove heards along that Mea|dow on the other &s;ide of the River. Their Shepheards crooks were all trimmed with bra&s;s guilt over, &amp; &s;trewed over with cyphers; their Flutes and little Bagpipes were as well deckt as were their &s;heep, all who&s;e horns were loaded with flow|ers. In divers parts of this Meadow, were an hundred lovely Shepheards, clo|thed in white, with hats of ro&s;es, who to make the place the more plea&s;ing, mixt the melody of their voices to the ru&s;tick Mu&s;ick afore&s;aid. So &s;weet a place being doubtle&s;ly proper to infu&s;e joy, and plea|&s;ure, being no di&s;po&s;ition to cruelty; the King found <HI>Aretephile</HI> a little more gentle; and all the wor&s;t treated lovers of this company, found at lea&s;t &s;ome truce to their &s;ufferings, and were maugre them|&s;elves delighted with &s;o lovely a place, which was bounded about by a very high Palle&s;ade, wherein Niches placed at e|quall
<PB N="24" REF="17">
di&s;tances, were &s;tatues of white Marble, the rare&s;t that were ever &s;een in <HI>Greece.</HI></P>
<P>But I may &s;eem to be my &s;elf inchanted in a place &s;o full of charms, &s;ince I &s;tay &s;o long thereon: I mu&s;t then ha&s;te to make this fair company depart, whom <HI>Philoxypes</HI> waited on back to <HI>Paphos,</HI> after having offered them a famous banquet. Some few days after, being teturned home, with intention to entertain him&s;elf alone there for two days, he &s;pent all that time very contentedly: But <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his hu|mour lying rather to like general beau|ties, wherein art hath nothing to do, then tho&s;e where art undertakes to perfect na|ture; went out of his Park, and unac|companied by any &s;ave one &s;ervant, he went to the River &s;ide, intending to walk along it till he &s;hould come to the head therof, which is not far from thence, and which certainly is one of the goodli|e&s;t things in the world: For this miracu|lous Spring-head, which of it &s;elf makes a River, is inclo&s;ed by Rocks of an un|acce&s;&s;ible height; at the foot of the grea|te&s;t, and highe&s;t whereof, is a large cave which extends it &s;elf even to the lo&s;s of
<PB N="25" REF="17">
&s;ight, both on the right hand &amp; on the left, under unacce&s;&s;ible Rocks. At the bot|tome of this Cave, is a &s;ilent &s;pring, which &s;ometimes ri&s;eth up to the top of the den, and &s;ometimes falls &s;o low, as it is not above five or &s;ix foot high. This inequality is the cau&s;e why the River of <HI>Claria,</HI> as well as all the others of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> pa&s;s rather for a fair Torrent, then for a River; though this be not po&s;itively &s;o, for it is never altogether dried up, as are all the re&s;t. As he went towards this Cave, he got off hor&s;e-back, leaving his hor&s;e with his &s;ervant, commanding him to wait his return, and not to follow him.</P>
<P>Thus did he walk all alone, along the&s;e Torrents, with the &s;ight and noi&s;e whereof, he was much delighted, when rai&s;ing up his eyes, he might &s;ee &s;ome twenty paces off, a very hand&s;ome wo|man, though in a mean habit, who was &s;ate upon a Rock, all covered over with mo&s;s; and who &s;eemed to take plea&s;ure in eying attentively the fall of waters which came ru&s;hing at her feet, as if to do her homage. At fir&s;t <HI>Philoxypes</HI> thought not to trouble the contentment of one
<PB N="26" REF="18">
who&s;e humour was &s;o conformable to his, to &s;it mu&s;ing upon the River &s;ide, and to turn a little a&s;ide, that he might not inter|rupt her. But being come a little neerer, and &s;eeing that her apparel though clean, and hand&s;ome, gave her not out to be a per&s;onage of quality, he went directly towards her, becau&s;e that was the ea&s;ie&s;t way. But being come very neer her, and the noi&s;e his walking made, having made this woman look about, he was &s;trangely taken; not only to &s;ee the hand&s;ome&s;t creature in the world, but to di&s;cern per|fectly that, that miraculous <HI>Venus</HI> which he had in his Gallery, and which he had alwayes taken onely for the effect of a hand&s;ome imagination, was really the picture of this per&s;onage; <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> ra|vi&s;ht at this &s;o &s;trange apparition, chan|ged his colour; and &s;aluting this maid with more civility then her condition &s;eemed to require, he advanced yet nee|rer her; but &s;he ri&s;ing up in ha&s;te, and ha|ving not without a blu&s;h paid him his &s;alute, as if &s;he had been troubled to be &s;een alone in that place, &s;he ha&s;ted to go unto an old man and a woman well-ad|vanced in years, who were not above
<PB N="27" REF="18">
twenty paces off her; yet fearing by like to be followed, &s;he turned her head twice towards <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who was &s;till the more dazeled with her beauty, and more confirmed in his opinion. This Prince &s;urpri&s;ed at this encounter, had a great de&s;ire to know who this yong and &s;o wonderfully hand&s;ome maid might be; and to know al&s;o how <HI>Mandrocles</HI> could come to draw her picture; and why <HI>Man|drocles</HI> had always told him, that the pi|cture which he had drawn, was only an effect of his fancy: He followed her with his eyes as far as he could; but having &s;tood &s;till a pretty while, not knowing why he did &s;o, he lo&s;t &s;ight of her among&s;t tho&s;e Rocks after &s;he was come up to tho&s;e &s;he went unto, &s;o as he could no more di&s;cover her.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> did not overmuch endevour it, though his minde led him very much thereunto, but coming neer the River &s;ide, in &s;tead of continuing to walk to|wards the Spring head, he went down the &s;tream; and were it by hazard, or out of de&s;ign, he happened to re&s;t him|&s;elf upon the &s;ame Rock covered with mo&s;s, on which he had &s;een the fair maid
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<GAP DESC="duplicate" EXTENT="1 page">
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&s;it. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> being there, could think on nothing, but on this fair unknown one, and upon the plea&s;ing adventure which had befaln him. He then remem|bred the di&s;cour&s;e which had pa&s;t in the Gallery, and what he had &s;aid of that pi|cture which every one &s;o much commen|ded; and delighting to entertain him|&s;elf upon this &s;ubject, how glad &s;aid he unto him&s;elf, would Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile</HI> be, if &s;he knew what had befaln me, and how would the King mock me if he heard it? They would certainly &s;ay, that the Godde&s;s had wrought a miracle to puni&s;h me, by making me meet with a Country wench, of whom to make the object of my choice. But &s;aid he, pre&s;ently after, this Country maid is fairer then what&s;oe|ver there is of beauty in the Court; and I &s;hall &s;ufficiently revenge my &s;elf of all our Ladies, if I can once more meet with her, and let them &s;ee her. He then re&s;ol|ved to return the next day to the &s;ame place, and in the mean time not to &s;peak of her till he had found her again. He then returned home, but full of amaze|ment; at his fir&s;t arival, he went &s;trait to his Gallery, and grew &s;o confident in his
<PB N="29" REF="20">
belief, that his <HI>Venus Urania</HI> was the very picture of this fair unknown one, as he doubted no more thereof. He compared all the features of this picture, with the image which he bare about in his mind, not finding any difference between them &s;ave that the original was farre above what ever <HI>Mandrocles</HI> with all his art, could repre&s;ent. He &s;eemed to have ob|&s;erved in her face, a much more plea&s;ing youthly aire, a much more maje&s;tical mode&s;ty, and a &s;weetne&s;s infinitely more alluring. In fine, the Prince <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> who had wont to be more in his Clo|&s;et, then in his Gallery, perceiving that the &s;ight of this picture detained him there, whether he would or no, went forth much perplext to &s;ee that once in his life time, he could not ma&s;ter his affe|ctions. He pa&s;t the re&s;t of that day, and all the next night, not being able to eface this plea&s;ing phanto&s;m out of his minde. The next day he returned to the &s;ame place where he had &s;een that fair one, &s;till thinking how he &s;hould be plea&s;ed to cau&s;e her be &s;een by the King, and the whole Court. But though he went up the River, even up to the head thereof, he
<PB N="30" REF="21">
could not finde her; he &s;ought her long in vain; and being angered thereat, he &s;ought whether he could not finde &s;ome little track about that place where he had &s;een the fair unknown one; but it being all Rocky, no impre&s;&s;ion of foot|&s;teps could be &s;een there, nor could there be any track found among&s;t the Rocks. De&s;perate then, as he was not to finde any knowledge of what he &s;o much de&s;i|red, he returned back, ab&s;olutely re|&s;olving not to return any more to that place: yet was he no &s;ooner at home, but that he wi&s;ht to be at the River &s;ide; he enquired of all his &s;ervants, if they had never met any body thereabouts, which re&s;embled that <HI>Venus;</HI> and askt them very particularly, into what pla|ces, and into what hou&s;es <HI>Mandrocles</HI> went when he painted his Gallery? They an|&s;wered, that they had never &s;een her whom he &s;poke off, and that <HI>Mandrocles</HI> was a &s;olitary man, who &s;aw no body, who &s;pent all his time in de&s;igning a|mong&s;t tho&s;e Rocks; and that he took almo&s;t always the way towards the head of <HI>Claria. Philoxypes</HI> not able to learn a|ny more, did what he could to think no
<PB N="31" REF="21">
more thereon; but though he had re&s;ol|ved to return next day to <HI>Paphos,</HI> he &s;tayed at <HI>Claria,</HI> (for his hou&s;e bears the name of the River which pa&s;&s;eth by it) and whatever de&s;igne he had, never to return to &s;eek out the fair unknown one, his feet maugre him&s;elf, bare him always towards the place where he had met her. Hee returned often from thence, not knowing why he would not willingly go thither, nor why he went thither, not having any thought of &s;o doing. But at la&s;t yeelding to his curio&s;ity, he retur|ned towards tho&s;e Rocks, re&s;olving to &s;uffer him&s;elf to be guided by fortune; leaving always his &s;ervant and his hor&s;e where he left them the fir&s;t time.</P>
<P>He wandred then long among&s;t tho&s;e Mountains, when being weary, he &s;ate him&s;elf down, which he had hardly done, upon a neighbouring Rock, when hee might di&s;cover afar off a little Cottage, in a place which appeared very &s;avage unto him: &s;o as ri&s;ing up, it may be, &s;aid he unto him&s;elf, 'tis here where the Gods have hidden the Trea&s;ure, which I &s;eek for. And indeed he had not walked far, when he &s;aw the fair unknown one, ac|companied
<PB N="32" REF="22">
by the &s;ame old man, and the &s;ame woman which he had formerly &s;een, and by three or four others all meanly clothed, which &s;eemed to take a by-way which led to a little Temple, which lies towards the Sea &s;ide, and which was built for the accommodation of &s;tran|gers, who traffique in that I&s;land, and land on that &s;ide. The Temple not be|ing above &s;ix furlongs from this little ru|ral habitation, 'twas but a walk to go thi|ther on foot.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> ravi&s;ht at this encounter, went towards them; and addre&s;&s;ing his &s;peech to the old man, after having &s;a|luted, and looked on the fair unknown, with more admiration then at fir&s;t; Fa|ther, &s;aid he, know you who they be that live in that little hou&s;e which I &s;ee yon|der among&s;t the Rocks? Sir, &s;aid he, they are people who merit not the honor you do them in &s;peaking to them; nor doe I know how my Cabbin &s;hould cau&s;e curio&s;ity in a man of your condition.</P>
<P>While&s;t the old man &s;poke, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had his eyes fixt upon the fair unknown one &s;o attentively, as he made her blu&s;h, and forced her to turn her head a&s;ide;
<PB N="33" REF="22">
he willingly would have &s;poken to her, but that (as he told me afterward) hee was affraid to ruine him&s;elf in &s;o plea|&s;ing an inchantment; and that he &s;hould finde as much rudene&s;&s;e in her conver&s;a|tion, as &s;he had &s;weetne&s;&s;e in her eyes; to boot, that he &s;aw her to be &s;o mode&s;t, as he ea&s;ily imagined &s;he would not &s;peak long unto him in her parents pre&s;ence, (for he perceived &s;he behaved her &s;elf as if &s;he were the old mans daughter) hee enquired al&s;o of the good old man, if he went oft to that Temple? whether his abode there had been long? whether he were of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> or no? whether that were his whole family? and a hundred other things to continue the conver&s;ati|on. To all which, though the other an|&s;wered exactly, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> did hardly hear any thing he &s;aid; &amp; thus they parted, af|ter he had tane his leave of them all, hardly knowing what he &s;aid.</P>
<P>Not having learnt any thing, but that he had once more &s;een the fair unknown one, that &s;he was much more lovely then he had thought her to be, that he knew her abode, and the Temple whether &s;he &s;ometimes went. He pur&s;ued her with
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his eyes as far as he could; but at la&s;t be|ing a&s;hamed of what he did, and &s;eeking a rea&s;on for it, he returned back the &s;ame way, and went into his Gallery, it being the only place in all his hou&s;e, wherein he plea&s;ed him&s;elf. When he was come thereinto, he began to walk with more di&s;quiet then he had wont to be acquain|ted withall. And far from his former de&s;ign of bringing the fair unknown one to the Court, he did as far as in him lay, put on a re&s;olution of never &s;eeing her more him&s;elf: &s;o much was he affected with this &s;econd &s;ight.</P>
<P>To this purpo&s;e, he went forthwith out of his Gallery, got on hor&s;e-back, and returned to <HI>Paphos;</HI> the King who loved him dearly, and who had as much of friend&s;hip for him, as of love for the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile,</HI> complained of his &s;o long abode in the Countrey, and made as much of him as could be. He imme|diately entreated him to vi&s;it the Prin|ce&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile,</HI> becau&s;e there had been &s;ome little quarrel between them, which he acquainted him withall, making the mo&s;t he could of it.</P>
<P><HI>Phyloxypes</HI> obeys him, vi&s;its the Prin|ce&s;&s;e,
<PB N="35" REF="23">
and makes them friends: but let him do what he plea&s;eth, or go whither he will, his thoughts are &s;till bu&s;ied about the fair unknown one; he compares her with all the beauties that he &s;ees, and whether he behold <HI>Aretephile, Thimoclea, Aghari&s;ta,</HI> or who&s;oever el&s;e, he can &s;ee none but his &s;i&s;ter, the fair Prince&s;&s;e of <HI>Salamis,</HI> who comes any way neer her for beauty; but he preferred the other a thou&s;and times before her, as being a thou&s;and times more beautiful, then what&s;oever the world hath of beauty. Two days after he returned to <HI>Claria,</HI> and the next day he went to the afore&s;aid lit|tle Temple, whether tho&s;e that were of the I&s;land went &s;eldome or never, it being only built for &s;trangers.</P>
<P>And this was the rea&s;on wherefore the beauty of the fair unknown one, had not been noi&s;ed abroad, neither in <HI>Apid,</HI> which is not far from thence, nor in <HI>Soly</HI> which is very neer it, nor in <HI>Claria,</HI> which joyns upon it. <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> then maugre him&s;elf, went thither, whether he was no &s;ooner come, but he &s;aw the fair maid &s;till accompanied with the &s;ame compa|ny, who devoutly prayed to the God|de&s;&s;e
<PB N="36" REF="24">
that is there adored. In fine, Sir, to keep that no longer from you, which <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had much adoe to acknowledg to him&s;elf, this la&s;t &s;ight fully conquered him; for the &s;acrifice being &s;omewhat long, love had time enough to fa&s;ten him with his chains not to be untyed. You may believe it had been ea&s;ie for <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> to have &s;poken to this maid, as &s;hee came out of the Temple, and to have followed her home, if he had plea&s;ed; but though love had already gotten the upper hand in his heart, yet had it not driven out &s;hame from thence. And <HI>Philoxypes</HI> did me the honour to tell mee afterwards, that he was &s;o a&s;hamed of his own weakne&s;&s;e, and of the meanne&s;s of this maids condition as he &s;ometimes wi&s;ht to be dead.</P>
<P>This little a&s;&s;embly being gone, and he being returned home &s;trangely perplext, what &s;aid he to him&s;elf, is it po&s;&s;ible that <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> that unflexible <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who could never be wrought upon by all the fair Ladies of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> &s;hould be in love with one born in a Cottage, bred up a|mong&s;t Rocks, and &s;avage people? Ah, no, no: it cannot be. I would rather rip
<PB N="37" REF="24">
out my heart, then &s;uffer it any longer to retain &s;o mean, and &s;o unworthy an affection. But (&s;aid he pre&s;ently after|wards) there is &s;omewhat of Divinity in Supream beauty, which is not to be re|&s;i&s;ted. And if this unknown one be more fair then all the Princes of the world, &s;he better de&s;erves the love of the inflexible <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> then all they do. Yet I am &s;ure, &s;aid he, when the wi&s;e <HI>Solon</HI> told me, That a man might without &s;hame be once in his life time overcome by love; he under&s;tood it not to be by the love of a &s;hepherde&s;s, as doubtle&s;ly &s;he is&mdash;at the&s;e words not having power to end his &s;peech and &s;ay, Whom I love; &s;hame &s;topt his mouth, and for a while he &s;aid nothing.</P>
<P>Then &s;uddenly re-a&s;&s;uming his &s;peech, No, no, &s;aid he, <HI>Solon</HI> would not approve the folly which po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth me: For in fine, to love a per&s;on &s;o beneath ones &s;elf, a per&s;on, who&s;e name one is affraid to ask; one to whom one hath never &s;po|ken, and to whom I dare not &s;peak, for fear of finding her mind unworthy of her beauty, one who peradventure will not under&s;tand my language, who peradven|ture hath neither vertue nor goodne&s;&s;e,
<PB N="38" REF="25">
and whom the Gods have endowed with extraordinary beauty, only for my confu|&s;ion, and to make mee de&s;paire; once more it cannot, it mu&s;t not be; &s;o dread|ful an evil mu&s;t be early with&s;tood; and as there are &s;ome venomes who&s;e mi&s;|chief is only cured by them&s;elves, the fair unknown one mu&s;t cure me of the malady &s;he hath cau&s;ed in me.</P>
<P>I mu&s;t once more &s;ee her, and &s;peak to her, to the end that the blemi&s;hes of her minde, and her rude conver&s;ation, may drive that beauty from out my heart, which her charming beauty and plea&s;ing eyes hath placed there. But good Gods, replyed he unto him&s;elf, is it po&s;&s;ible &s;o fair a per&s;onage &s;hould have any de|faults? Think <HI>Philoxypes</HI> what thou wilt do; and fear le&s;t whil&s;t you think to finde a cure for your evil, you render in incurable.</P>
<P>Thus <HI>Philoxypes</HI> rea&s;oned with him&s;elf, who in effect re&s;olved to go the next day to the Cottage, where the fair unknown one dwelt, with intention to &s;peak unto her, and &s;o to cure him&s;elf, imagining that his &s;hame to &s;ee him&s;elf in that Cot|tage, and the maids gro&s;&s;e conver&s;ation,
<PB N="39" REF="25">
would infallibly &s;alve his pa&s;&s;ion. But he knew not that 'tis an u&s;uall effect of love to make tho&s;e who are in love, make u&s;e of all pretences, whereby they may come near tho&s;e whom they love, not knowing them&s;elves why they goe thither.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> failed not then to goe the next day towards the rocks, at foot wher|of according to his cu&s;tome he left his &s;ervants: But as he went he was much di&s;quieted; &s;ometimes hee wi&s;ht this young maid might neither have wit nor attraction; and by and by, de&s;ired again he might meet with nothing in her which might detract from her beauty. In fine, not knowing whether he de&s;ired to be &s;ick or cured, whether he would be free or a captive, and not knowing al&s;o under what pretence to make this odd vi&s;it, he marcht on till he came to a little Valley, &s;eated between Rocks, &s;toln as it were from the world, and very fit, to &s;ay the truth, to hide &s;o infinite a precious trea|&s;ure. At the foot of this little Valley, there lies a plea&s;ant Meadow; and upon the &s;ide of the&s;e Rocks, a little Wood of Myrtle '&amp; wild Pomegranats, interming|led
<PB N="40" REF="26">
with &s;ome Orange Trees. At the bottome of this Wood, there &s;tands a little Hou&s;e very low built, but in indif|ferent good repair: As <HI>Philoxypes</HI> drew neer it, his troubles re-doubled, and hee was almo&s;t tempted to turn back, &s;o a&s;ha|med was he of his weakne&s;s. But at la&s;t being forced on by love, he entred into the fore-Court of this hou&s;e, clo&s;ed in with Lawrels no higher then ones elbow, which are very common in this I&s;land. At la&s;t, &s;eeing a door open, he came into a little Chamber, decently, though but meanly furni&s;hed; in which, he found the fair unknown one, and two other women who made Garlands of flowers, intending to carry them the next day to the Temple, and give them to the Prie&s;t who lived there, to adorn the Victime, which was to be offered, there in &s;acrifice. You may imagin, how much a&s;toni&s;hed this young maid might be, to &s;ee &s;uch a one as <HI>Philoxypes</HI> enter her Cabin, who is always richly clothed, and who as you know, is of a very &s;tately behaviour; &s;he no &s;ooner &s;aw him, but ri&s;ing up in ha&s;te &s;he let all her flowers fall, thereby affor|ding <HI>Philoxypes</HI> occa&s;ion of commencing
<PB N="41" REF="26">
conver&s;ation, who &s;tooped down to ga|ther up the faln flowers: Sir, &s;aid &s;he, endeavouring to hinder him, pray trou|ble not your &s;elf, for our Woods and Meadows abound in the like, &s;o as I may ea&s;ily repair this lo&s;&s;e, if the&s;e were &s;poi|led. Tho&s;e which your Woods and Fields produce, &s;aid he, are not of &s;uch worth as the&s;e, which I re&s;tore you, be|cau&s;e they have not been gathered by &s;o fair a maid as you. Sir, &s;aid &s;he, blu&s;h|ing, the Godde&s;s to whom I intend to offer them, will look more upon the in|tention of my heart, then upon my face, which certainly hath nothing in it, which may occa&s;ion you to &s;peak as you do. But Sir, &s;aid &s;he, (not giving him leave to in|terrupt her, to the end &s;he might change the di&s;cour&s;e) you have perhaps &s;ome|what to command my Father, who will bee very much troubled that hee is not here, that he might have the glory to o|bey you: but he is gone forth with my Mother, and will not return till night.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> hearing her &s;peak with &s;o much judgement, and &s;uch civility, hee having at mo&s;t expected nothing but in|nocency, and &s;implicity in her conver&s;a|tion,
<PB N="42" REF="27">
had hardly the power to an&s;wer her. He beheld her with admiration, and li&s;tened to her with a&s;toni&s;hment; he ob&s;erved a decent negligence in her apparel, and her tone of &s;peech &s;o exce&s;|&s;ively charming, as he was ravi&s;ht; &s;hee &s;poke not only Greek, but with all the Atique purity, and Courtly &s;moothne&s;s; her action was moreover infinitely beco|ming, having nothing in it, neither of af|fected, nor yet of Clowni&s;h. He found &s;uch mode&s;ty in her looks, and &s;o lovely a fre&s;hne&s;s in her complexion, as he had hardly liberty to reply; yet after &s;ome &s;trivings within him&s;elf, 'tis true, faire maid, &s;aid he, I had &s;omewhat to &s;ay unto your Father, but till &s;uch time as I &s;hall &s;ee him, give me leave to ask you why he makes choice of &s;o &s;olitary an abode. Sir, &s;aid &s;he, &s;uch is my re&s;pect unto him, as I never informed my &s;elf of what you de&s;ire to know; but I have &s;ometimes thought that this place is not of his choice, and that he lives here, only to fit his minde unto his fortune, which not having de&s;tin'd him a Palace, hinders him not from thinking him&s;elf happy in his Cottage.</P>
<P><PB N="43" REF="27">
But is it po&s;&s;ible, &s;aid he, that this au|&s;tere &s;olitarine&s;s &s;hould not &s;eem tedious to you? Sir! (replyed &s;he with a mo|de&s;t &s;mile) you will doubtle&s;ly think me very ru&s;tick and &s;avage, when I &s;hal dare to &s;ay, that the only trouble I have met withall amid&s;t the&s;e Rocks, &s;ince I have lived here, is that wherewith I am now po&s;&s;e&s;t, to &s;ee you in a place, where I u&s;e not to &s;ee any one; and where cer|tainly I would not &s;ee you, were I in a condition to do otherwi&s;e; it not appea|ring &s;eemly to me, that one of your con|dition, &s;hould bu&s;ie him&s;elf in talking &s;o long with &s;uch an one as I am. I &s;hould be very unhappy, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> if I &s;hould have offended you, or have ap|peared too importunate: but lovely per|&s;onage, tell me I be&s;eech you, your name, and your Parents name, and tell me what God or Godde&s;s tis that comes to in&s;truct you in the&s;e Woods? Sir! &s;aid &s;he, my name is <HI>Policrite,</HI> my Father is called <HI>Cle|anthes,</HI> and my Mother <HI>Megi&s;to;</HI> but as for tho&s;e Gods which you &s;ay doe teach me, they have as yet taught me &s;o little, as I am ignorant even of civility: to wit|nes which, I &s;hall take the boldne&s;s to &s;ay,
<PB N="44" REF="28">
that &s;ince tho&s;e on whom I depend are not here, I &s;hall de&s;ire you not to take it ill, if I intreat you not to tarry any lon|ger in a place, wherein you will finde more of incommodity, then content. I &s;hall not alter my minde, replyed <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> for what you &s;ay, but mu&s;t once more affirm, that doubtle&s;ly the Gods have in a moment in&s;pired you, with what others have much adoe to learn in their whole lives. For that you &s;hould be the faire&s;t maid in all the world, and fairer in a Cottage, then Queens are in their Palaces; though this be very much, yet is it not impo&s;&s;ible, but that living a|mong&s;t Woods and Rocks, you &s;hould behave your &s;elf, and &s;peak as you doe, 'tis this, fair <HI>Philocrita,</HI> that I cannot com|prehend; nor can I imagin that you were born here among&s;t the&s;e &s;avage Rocks; 'Tis true, Sir! &s;aid &s;he, I am not of this I&s;land by birth; but was &s;o young when I parted from <HI>Creta,</HI> as I hardly remem|ber any thing thereof. Tis true, the con|ver&s;ation which I have here, cannot have given me the accent of the Countrey, for I &s;peak with none but tho&s;e of this fami|ly, who are no more of <HI>Cyprus</HI> then I.</P>
<P><PB N="45" REF="28">
What, <HI>Policrite,</HI> &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> do you &s;pend your whole time without &s;peaking, and yet &s;peak as you do? Once more, this Cottage is unworthy of you; and &s;ome means mu&s;t be found out to draw you hence. I am &s;o well contented here, Sir, &s;aid &s;he, as I &s;hould thereby receive an injury; and I imagine you have no &s;uch de&s;ign; therefore I conjure you to leave me in that &s;olitarine&s;s that you found me; for neither will I &s;ay much more unto you, not being able to &s;peak any thing of mine own experience.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who ob&s;erved that this yong maid was indeed troubled to &s;ee him tar|ry &s;o long with her, though it were in no di&s;-obliging manner, was loth to anger her; &s;o as with much violence u&s;ed upon him&s;elf, after having &s;aluted her with &s;uch reverence, as if &s;he had been upon a Throne, he offered to be gone. But, Sir, &s;aid &s;he, with much candour, you know my name is <HI>Policrite,</HI> and I cannot tell my Father what his name is, that hath done him the honour to enquire after him. You may tell him, replyed this Prince, tran&s;ported with love, my name is <HI>Philoxypes.</HI> Alas, Sir! an&s;wered <HI>Phi|locrita,</HI>
<PB N="46" REF="29">
I beg your pardon, if I have not u&s;ed you with &s;uch re&s;pect as I ought. Is not then, &s;aid he, my name unknown unto you? No, Sir, &s;aid &s;he, and I have heard my Father, though he knows you not him&s;elf, &s;ay &s;uch things of you by the re|port of others, as I am &s;ure will make him rejoyce exceedingly, when he &s;hall know that you will do him the favour to command him any &s;ervice. <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> inchanted to hear <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;peak in &s;uch &s;ort, &s;aid unto her a thou&s;and pa&s;&s;ionate and obliging things, if &s;he would have under&s;tood them; to which &s;he &s;till re|plyed with &s;uch readine&s;s and mode&s;ty, as he &s;till became in love with her more and more.</P>
<P>He then took his leave of her, and de|parted from this Cottage, with an uncon|ceivable &s;orrow, being come to the &s;ame place where he fir&s;t &s;aw her, he &s;tayed; and beholding on the one &s;ide his goodly and magnificent Palace of <HI>Claria,</HI> and on the other &s;ide this little Countrey Cot|tage: Ah, <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> cryed he, who would believe, that in the condition thy &s;oul is in, thou can&s;t prefer this unlucky Cottage before that &s;tately Palace? and
<PB N="47" REF="29">
that thy heart &s;o in&s;en&s;ible of love, and &s;o ambitious of true glory, can aba&s;e it &s;elf before <HI>Policrite</HI>'s feet? But then, &s;aid he again, is it po&s;&s;ible that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;hould love any thing which is not the hand&s;o|me&s;t thing in the world? And if it bee &s;o, <HI>Policrite</HI> ought to be the object of his de&s;ires and love. I &s;ay, <HI>Policrite,</HI> in who&s;e looks is no art, who&s;e words are &s;incere, all who&s;e thoughts are innocent, who knows not what a &s;in is, who&s;e heart is not prepo&s;&s;e&s;t with any pa&s;&s;ion, who as yet loves nothing but the Woods, Fields, Flowers, and Fountains; who is hardly con&s;cious of her own beauty, and who&s;e inclinations are doubtle&s;ly all vertuous. But when all is done, &s;aid he, after a little pau&s;e, love is a weakne&s;s, from whence I have till now defended my &s;elf, onely becau&s;e I did verily believe, that it was hand&s;ome not to be capable thereof; but to love a per&s;onage of &s;o unequal birth, is a folly, which I ought by all means to with&s;tand. For in fine, with what face &s;hall I dare to appear at Court? How fair &s;oever <HI>Policrite</HI> bee, I dare not &s;hew the irons &s;hee makes me wear; they mu&s;t either be broken by force, or
<PB N="48" REF="30">
&s;o cunningly conceald, as no man may e|ver di&s;cern them.</P>
<P>With this re&s;olution did <HI>Philoxypes</HI> re|turn home, and from thence to <HI>Pa|phos;</HI> but he was &s;o po&s;&s;e&s;t with melan|choly, as hee was forced to fain him&s;elf &s;ick. The King, who &s;aw him that very night, both with him&s;elf, and with the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretephile,</HI> perceived his per|plexity, and pre&s;&s;ed him to know the cau&s;e: But <HI>Philoxypes</HI> an&s;wered him as he had done the re&s;t. The Court was very great that day, and all that was gal|lant, was there; which occa&s;ioned <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> in his ravings, to inquire of him&s;elf an hundred and an hundred times, why, &s;ince he was to love, it was not &s;ome of tho&s;e illu&s;trious per&s;onages? Yet though he would u&s;e violence upon him&s;elf, and endevor to love by rea&s;on, he could ne|ver co~pa&s;s it. And <HI>Policrite</HI>'s image was &s;o deeply imprinted in his heart, as nothing could eface it. He pa&s;&s;ed over 3 days thus with very much di&s;quiet, and on the 4^t^h maugre him&s;elf, he returned to <HI>Claria,</HI> and from thence to <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> whom at his fir&s;t approach, he found leaning upon that little Palli&s;ado of Lawrels, which in|compa&s;&s;ed
<PB N="49" REF="30">
his Court. As &s;oon as this wi&s;e Old man &s;aw him, he &s;tept unto him, and received him with &s;uch Civility as had nothing of Ru&s;tick in it. Sir, &s;aid he, I thought my Daughter had been deceived when &s;he told me your Name, which kept me from coming to <HI>Claria</HI> to receive your Commands; to boot, that 'tis hard to imagine, that a Man of my Fortune and Age may be any wayes &s;erviceable to &s;uch a Prince as you. Vertue and worth, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> makes friends unto it &s;elf of all Ages, and of all Conditions. But <HI>Cleanthes</HI> the only thing I de&s;ire to know of you, is whether it be out of nece&s;&s;ity, or out of choice, that you inhabit this little Hou&s;e? for, if it be the former, you &s;hall not tarry long here; and if the latter, I will come and live with you &s;ometimes; at which <HI>Cleanthes</HI> &s;miled, and &s;aid, Poor Cottages, Sir, are no proper abodes for great Prin|ces. 'Tis very true, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> nei|ther ought great Worth to be confin'd to little Cottages, but doth much better be|come great Palaces: I therefore proffer you my Hou&s;e <HI>Claria,</HI> where you and your Family may live more commodiou&s;ly then here. Sir, replyed <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> 'tis
<PB N="50" REF="31">
hand&s;ome for a per&s;onage of your condi|tion and worth to be willing to relieve the di&s;tre&s;ted, but it were not ju&s;t to abu&s;e that Goodne&s;s, which may be better em|ploy'd on &s;ome better occa&s;ion. For, in fine, Sir, I &s;uffer no want in this Cottage, my minde being no greater then it; I here live in quiet; and finding in this little corner of the earth &s;ufficient to keep me from being trouble&s;ome to any body, I live here much more happily then tho&s;e who live in Palaces, and who&s;e de&s;ires are not therein bounded. But wi&s;e <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> will you not tell me what Fortune 'tis that hath brought you hither, and acquaint me preci&s;ely with your con|dition? Sir, &s;aid the good Old man, I am de&s;cended of hone&s;t Parents, of an indif|ferent Fortune; for mine, you &s;ee it is mean enough, and I a&s;&s;ure you my worth is not extraordinary. I was forc't to foregoe my Country, for many rea&s;ons, too long now to tell, and to &s;eek out a place of Retirement in this I&s;land, where I have lived a good while; but &s;aid <HI>Phi|loxypes,</HI> are you not affraid le&s;t <HI>Policrite,</HI> who may ju&s;tly be termed a Trea&s;ure, may not be &s;afe in &s;uch a place as this?
<PB N="51" REF="31">
if I &s;hould grant, an&s;wered <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> that <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;hould be what you &s;ay, &s;ince this Trea&s;ure is only known by Prince <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> I &s;hould think it &s;afe enough; you have rea&s;on, Father, &s;aid he, for what you &s;ay, for I engage my &s;elf to protect you, again&s;t what, or who&s;oever &s;hall go about to injure you. After this <HI>Cleanthes</HI> led him into his Hou&s;e, where he found <HI>Me|gi&s;to, Cleanthes</HI> wife, who received him &s;o Civily, as he ea&s;ily di&s;cern'd that there was nothing of Ru&s;tick nor &s;avage in this family. Shee had by her young <HI>Policrite,</HI> and another Maid hand&s;ome enough, whom <HI>Policrite</HI> called Si&s;ter, and who&s;e name is <HI>Dorida:</HI> But, good Gods, how fair did <HI>Policrite</HI> appear to <HI>Philoxypes</HI> that day? Her Hair which hung carele&s;ly over her Neck, and which were the one half covered by a thin Tiffany, were ty'd back behinde her head, with a Garland of O|range and Pomegranate flowers, over which hung a thin Veile, with which &s;hee covered her Face when &s;he went in the Sun, and which very well became her Dre&s;&s;ing: The re&s;t of her Apparel was white, of a hand&s;ome &s;hape; her Sleeves, which were very large, were tru&s;t back
<PB N="52" REF="32">
with Ribbonds of &s;everall colours; and rhough there was nothing of &s;tately in this habit; and that in&s;tead of Pearles and Diamonds, &s;hee was only deck'd with flowrs, yet was there &s;omwhat of &s;o hand|&s;om and &s;o comely in her Dre&s;&s;ing, as &s;he never appear'd &s;o fair to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> the more he &s;aw her, the more he was in love with her; and were it that he entertained <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> that he &s;poke to <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> that he addre&s;t him&s;elf to <HI>Policrite,</HI> or that he &s;aid &s;omewhat of civility to <HI>Dorida,</HI> he was &s;till more and more taken. What did he not doe to make them tell him &s;omewhat more then <HI>Cleanthes</HI> had told him, and to per&s;wade them that he might fit them with a better Lodging? He offer'd <HI>Cle|anthes</HI> Jewels to di&s;po&s;e of at his plea&s;ure; but let him doe what he could, he could learn nothing, nor obtain nothing, &s;ave on|ly leav to come and vi&s;it them &s;ometimes, which they granted him, meerly becau&s;e they knew not how to deny it him. I will not &s;tay to tell you how frequently <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> returned thither during twelve Dayes &s;pace which he &s;taid at <HI>Claria,</HI> without returning to <HI>Paphos;</HI> but I will tell you, that <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> who had under|&s;tanding
<PB N="53" REF="32">
enough, and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> who wan|ted not any, ea&s;ily perceived that it was <HI>Policrite</HI>'s beauty which occa&s;ioned this Prince his &s;o frequent Vi&s;its, he read her a long Le&s;&s;on, and wi&s;ht her to have a care of her &s;elf, and that &s;he &s;hould con&s;ider that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his affection could not but redound to her prejudice: and that ther|fore &s;he &s;hould live with him, as with one whom &s;he &s;hould never look upon but meerly with re&s;pect, not &s;uffering him to engage her in any particular affection. This mean while <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who percei|ved he &s;hould never have the Freedome to &s;peak to <HI>Policrite</HI> in particular, unle&s;&s;e it were by chance, came &s;o often thither, as he met her once unaccompanied by any &s;ave the young <HI>Dorida.</HI> This being too fair an occa&s;ion to let &s;lip, he drew near unto her, and expre&s;&s;ing much Love in his looks, Think not, <HI>Policrite,</HI> &s;aid he, that I have any thing of mi&s;-becoming to &s;ay unto you, though I have diligently watched to entertain you alone; 'Tis only that not knowing how you will re|ceive my affection, I was not de&s;irous to have any witne&s;&s;es of my misfortune or happine&s;s. Sir, &s;aid &s;he, with a Maidenly-blu&s;h,
<PB N="54" REF="33">
before you &s;peak, con&s;ider I be|&s;eech you where you are; mark well the Cottage wherein I live, and &s;ee what Cloaths I wear. No, <HI>Policrite,</HI> reply'd he, I &s;ee nothing but your Eyes, and had you a Crown of Diamonds on your head, I &s;hould no more minde it then what you &s;peak of; &s;o firmly are my lookes fixt upon your Beauty. Permit me then, Sir, &s;aid the di&s;creet and fair Maid, to teach you another thing, which it may be you are ignorant of, and which ought to keep you from &s;aying any thing of unfit|ting to me. 'Tis, Sir, that this very <HI>Poli|crite,</HI> whom you &s;ee in this Country Cot|tage, who is thus &s;imply attir'd, who is only known to the&s;e Woods and Rocks, hath notwith&s;tanding her meanne&s;&s;e and &s;implicity, &s;o tender a &s;en&s;e of Honour, that &s;hould you offend her never &s;o little therein, &s;he were able to dye for &s;orrow and di&s;like. Be carefull then, Sir, to &s;ay nothing which may make <HI>Policrite</HI> beleev, that you know her not; for, in fine, &s;he hath &s;uch a pa&s;&s;ion for Vertue, as &s;he &s;hould have much adoe not to hate tho&s;e who &s;hould &s;ay any thing unto her in op|po&s;ition thereunto. Fear not, &s;aid he,
<PB N="55" REF="33">
faire&s;t <HI>Policrite,</HI> that I &s;hall &s;ay any thing to you, which &s;hall offend you, at lea&s;t which &s;hould offend you; for I prote&s;t unto you in the pre&s;ence of the gods, who hear me, that the pa&s;&s;ion which you have for flowers, fountains, and for the&s;e inameld fields, is not more pure, nor more inno|cent, then that which I have for <HI>Philocrita;</HI> and if there be any difference between them, 'tis that the affection which I bear to her, is &s;o violent and &s;trong, as there is nothing which I &s;hall not willingly un|dertake to witne&s;s it unto her: You can|not better do it, Sir, &s;aid &s;he, then in do|ing me the favour to &s;ay no more &s;uch things unto me, which will onely &s;erve to trouble the quiet of my life, &s;ince if I &s;hould not believe you, I &s;hould certain|ly be &s;omewhat troubled to think you would laugh at my &s;implicity; and if I &s;hould believe you, I &s;hould almo&s;t di|&s;pair, for being the cau&s;e why a great Prince &s;hould contract a pa&s;&s;ion &s;o un|worthy of him, and from whence he can never reap any advantage.</P>
<P>For in fine <HI>Policrite</HI> knowing her &s;elf, and knowing you al&s;o, would not her &s;elf commit a fault, nor yet cau&s;e you com|mit
<PB N="56" REF="34">
one for love of her; do not therefore ingage your &s;elf Sir, in &s;o anger&s;om an ad|venture: Let me alone (&s;aid &s;hee, looking upon him with an eie, which did rather detain him then drive him away, though it were done without art) let me alone I &s;ay, among&s;t our woods and rocks, and get you to your palaces where you will be much better then here. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was a&s;toni&s;hed to hear <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;peak thus, when throwing him&s;elf at her feet, no, no divine <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;aid he, you are not what you appear to be; and though you were &s;o, yet would your vertue place you in a degree above all the Queens in the world. Sir &s;aid &s;hee, rai&s;ing him up, think not that I am to be wonn by flatte|ries; for though I know not the world by mine own experience, I know it by my Parents relation. I therefore know that love is a dangerous pa&s;&s;ion, and not knowing preci&s;ely what it is, I know it ought to be avoided; and that I ought rather to apprehend that love which you &s;ay you bear me, then any other. And wherefore, <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;aid he, do you thus treat that innocent pa&s;&s;ion, which you rai&s;ed in my heart? becau&s;e &s;aid &s;he, it
<PB N="57" REF="34">
cannot be but injurious to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> or to <HI>Policrite.</HI> but &s;ay for God's &s;ake &s;aid he, &s;uppo&s;e that <HI>Policrite</HI> were a Prince&s;s, or that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> were of the &s;ame condition that <HI>Policrite</HI> is; what would you then think of him? I cannot tell &s;aid &s;hee, but this I know &s;ir, that though I &s;hould e|&s;teem him never &s;o much, nay, though I &s;hould love him very much, <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> &s;hould alwaies ab&s;olutely di|&s;po&s;e of me. Say then &s;aid he, if they &s;hould be favourable, would you with|out any repugnancy obey them? Sir &s;aid &s;hee, &s;miling a little, I have been &s;o told that I mu&s;t not lightly tru&s;t any one, as I think it not convenient to reveal &s;o great a &s;ecret to you. Hereupon <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> returned, and broke off their di|&s;cour&s;e; <HI>Philoxypes</HI> pre&s;ently ob&s;erved that the&s;e two per&s;ons were troubled at his vi&s;its; he therefore re&s;olved not to be &s;o frequent in them, lea&s;t he might for e|ver lo&s;e a happine&s;s, which now he might &s;ometimes enjoy. Thus, Sir, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> after &s;ome &s;hort di&s;cour&s;e departed, and returned not onely to <HI>Claria,</HI> but to <HI>Pa|phos,</HI> whether the King had al&s;o &s;ent for him; not being able to let him be &s;o long
<PB N="58" REF="35">
alone and &s;olitary, all the Ladies, and the whole Court complained of him, and could not comprehend the rea&s;on of his &s;o long retirement; The King continued to give him new te&s;timonies of his af|fection, by be&s;towing on him the govern|ment of <HI>Cithera,</HI> which was falne void by the death of the former governor. He acquainted him with what had befalne him during his ab&s;ence, with Prince&s;s <HI>Aretephile,</HI> and conjur'd him to &s;peak al|waies to her in his behalf. For &s;aid he, <HI>Aretephile</HI> hath taken a phancy to be &s;ure of the Crown of <HI>Cyprus,</HI> before &s;he give me her heart, and I will have her give me her heart, before I give her the Crown. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> promi&s;ed the King to &s;peak to <HI>Aretephile,</HI> but it was with &s;uch &s;adne&s;s as all the Court took notice of it. He did almo&s;t always little better then rave, he would mi&s;take, and &s;ay one thing for another, he &s;hunn'd company, and as &s;oon as he could, he returned to <HI>Claria.</HI> He found more re&s;i&s;tancy in <HI>Policrite,</HI> then he thought to have met withall; for &s;he, fea|ring all things, dur&s;t hardly look upon this Prince; the difference of his condi|tion, though it made her more obliged
<PB N="59" REF="35">
unto him in her &s;oul, yet was it the rea|&s;on why &s;hee treated him &s;o coolly. <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> would have pre&s;ented the whole Family, but they all refu&s;ed to receive any. This mean while he was &s;til more unhappie; for though he loved <HI>Policrita</HI> pa&s;&s;ionately, and that he valued her more then all the world be&s;ides, yet could he never put on a re&s;olution of making any one acquainted with this his &s;o mean|ly placed pa&s;&s;ion: He would certainly have been able to live with <HI>Policrita</HI> in any de&s;ert I&s;land; but he knew not how he could avow the marrying a Maid of her condition, to the world; yet did he &s;till love her with a re&s;pectfull affection, not giving way to any &s;infull de&s;ire: That pure and unartificial vertue which he &s;aw in <HI>Policrita,</HI> infu&s;ed into him a grea|ter re&s;pect for her, then if &s;hee had been &s;eated on a Throne; he then perceiv'd he loved, without hope of ever finding a remedy for his evil, upon le&s;&s;er tearms, then re&s;olving to abandon the Court, and Kingdom, and to ask <HI>Policrita</HI> of <HI>Cleanthes</HI> upon &s;o vexatious tearms; but that which mo&s;t of all afflicted him was, that he knew not how he &s;tood in <HI>Policrita's</HI> affection;
<PB N="60" REF="36">
he found her milde and civil, he ob&s;erves no marks of hatred in her countenance; but there was therein al&s;o &s;o great a re|&s;ervedne&s;s, and &s;o exact a mode&s;ty, as he could not penetrate her thoughts: He thought al&s;o, that <HI>Policrita</HI> was grown &s;omewhat more melancholly then &s;hee had formerly been, and indeed he was not mi&s;taken, for <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his hand&s;om|ne&s;s, his good behaviour, his wit, and civility, being things not to be &s;een with|out likeing; young <HI>Policrita</HI> could not &s;ee her &s;elf belov'd of &s;uch a Prince as he, without having her heart a little toucht with acknowledgement; yet &s;eeing her &s;elf in a condition &s;o farre beneath his, and out of a &s;ence of vertue &s;hee mu&s;t re|&s;i&s;t this budding affection, &s;he could not but be afflicted at this conque&s;t which &s;hee had made; and to bemoan her &s;elf thereof to her dear <HI>Dorida</HI> who had wit enough. Si&s;ter! &s;aid &s;he unto her, how happie are you in compari&s;on of me, who can take plea&s;ure in walking abroad, in gathering of Flowers, in hearing birds &s;ing, and the fall of waters, and in not being reduced to a condition of complai|ning of too much good fortune: For in
<PB N="61" REF="36">
fine <HI>Dorida, Philoxypes</HI> heart is a conque&s;t which I am &s;ure the greate&s;t Queens would be proud to have made; yet whil&s;t they might innocently rejoice thereat, I mu&s;t be therewithall afflicted: I could wi&s;h I had never &s;een him; or at lea&s;t I think I could: For when all is done, though methinks I could heartily de&s;ire that he would love me no more, yet am I glad to &s;ee him. But if love, repli'd <HI>Dorida,</HI> be &s;o powerfull a thing as it is &s;aid to be, how know you but that <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> may love you well enough to mar|ry you? Ah Si&s;ter, an&s;wered &s;he, as I would do nothing mi&s;be&s;eeming me, &s;o neither would I that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;hould do any thing that might mi&s;be&s;eem him to do: But, &s;aid <HI>Dorida,</HI> by like then you love <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;ince you intere&s;t your &s;elf in his honour, again&s;t your &s;elf. <HI>Poli|crita</HI> blu&s;ht at this di&s;cour&s;e, and looking confu&s;edly upon <HI>Dorida,</HI> if you were better acquainted with this pa&s;&s;ion then I, &s;aid &s;he, I would tell you what&s;oever my &s;oul is &s;en&s;ible of, to the end I might know what to think of it; But I cannot yet believe that this dangerous di&s;ea&s;e be yet got into my heart; for if you remem|ber well, we have heard <HI>Cleanthes</HI> &s;ay, and
<PB N="62" REF="37">
we have read it more then once, that love makes one lo&s;e their rea&s;on; that it cau&s;|eth a thou&s;and pains, and vexations, that it &s;ometimes makes people do ami&s;s; and I thank heaven, I do not yet feel any of all this; me thinks my rea&s;on is free e|nough, and I am well enough plea&s;ed with the melancholly which po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth me: For tis true, I oft times talk I know not what, but I delight in doing &s;o; and though I would not love <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> yet there are certain moments wherein I am well enough plea&s;ed that he &s;hould love me: But as for any thing of fault, &s;o farre am I from being willing to commit any, as I prote&s;t unto you, that were it for no other rea&s;on, then not to lo&s;e <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his e&s;teem and good opinion, I would die a thou&s;and deaths rather then do any thing that &s;hould be unju&s;t. You may then believe, that whil&s;t I love vertue, and would become worthy the affection of &s;o great a Prince, I will never do any thing contrary to reputation. I believe you, an&s;wered <HI>Dorida;</HI> but for all this Si|&s;ter mine, you deceive your &s;elf, if you believe you love not <HI>Philoxypes:</HI> For in a word, you do not love what you lov'd
<PB N="63" REF="37">
before you knew him, you are &s;omewhat more comely, you con&s;ult oftner with the Chri&s;tall fountains, and you are quite another thing then you were. Ah Si&s;ter, replied <HI>Policrite,</HI> if that were true which you &s;ay, I would quickly take order for it, I would never &s;ee <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> but to u&s;e him har&s;hly; to the end, that he ha|ting me, I might no longer love him. The&s;e two young people having entertained them&s;elves thus upon the bank of a lit|tle rivelet, <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> who had altered their minds, came thither; and bidding <HI>Dorida</HI> withdraw a little; <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> began to &s;ay; <HI>Policrite!</HI> it is not many days &s;ince I told you, that in re&s;pect of your condition, you &s;hould never look upon <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> but with a great deal of re&s;pect; but fearing le&s;t through that inequality which you may believe to be between you and him, you may not ap|pear to be &s;o much obliged to him for his affection, as indeed to put &s;omewhat too great an e&s;timation thereupon: <HI>Clean|thes</HI> and my &s;elf have re&s;olved to tell you, that your true condition con&s;idered, you are not bound to behold <HI>Philoxypes</HI> at any time, but with a great deal of indiffe|rency:
<PB N="64" REF="38">
For in a word, &s;aid <HI>Cheanthes,</HI> not to di&s;gui&s;e the truth from you any longer, you are what you think not your &s;elf to be, and we are likewi&s;e that which you know not, and what you &s;hall not as yet know; becau&s;e the Gods have not per|mitted us as yet to let you know it: But to &s;hew you how much you are more ob|liged then you think for, to be vertuous, know <HI>Policrite</HI> that you are of as Noble blood as any is in all <HI>Greece:</HI> And how an&s;wered <HI>Policrite,</HI> interupting him, am I not what I alwaies thought to be? No daughter &s;aid he; to number Kings among&s;t your Ance&s;tors, is not the greate&s;t mark of honour that you make boa&s;t of. There is &s;omewhat of more Augu&s;t in your race, then what I &s;peak of: Therefore that I might rai&s;e up your heart, I thought it good to tru&s;t you with this important &s;ecret, (which I charge you not to reveal to any one) as al|&s;o to let you know the better how much bound you are not to doe any thing un|worthy of your Fathers hou&s;e, nor of the condition you are born in. <HI>Policrite</HI> was exceedingly joy'd to hear <HI>Cleanthes</HI> &s;peak after this manner, though her joy was
<PB N="65" REF="38">
not over quiet; for &s;hee was in trouble to know more preci&s;ely what was told her. Father &s;aid &s;hee, leave me not in &s;uch perplexity; tell me a little more plainly, I be&s;eech you, &s;o plea&s;ing a truth, and let me know who I am.</P>
<P>The Gods have forbidden us it, my daughter, an&s;wered he, by the mouth of an Oracle: you mu&s;t be content with what you have heard: but make u&s;e thereof to defend your &s;elf again&s;t <HI>Philox|ypes</HI> love; and far from looking on him, as on a Prince who hath don you too much honour: look rather on him, as on one whom you &s;hall favour by your per|mittance.</P>
<P>This is not, &s;aid <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> to deny, but that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is indow'd with all the vir|tues and qualities requi&s;ite for a great Prince; but tis, my childe, to let you know, that there is a certain pride which doth not mi&s;-become a young maide to defend her &s;elf thereby again&s;t love, when we have an e&s;teem; for tho&s;e that are above us, tis hard to gain&s;ay, if they intreat. And on the contrary, when we believe them to be beneath us, or at lea&s;t but our equals, we &s;tand not much upon
<PB N="66" REF="39">
denying them unju&s;t things. <HI>Policrite</HI> a&s;|&s;ured then <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> That though &s;hee had known nothing of what they now had told her, &s;hee &s;hould never have done any thing contrary to that de|cency which &s;hee had learnt of them. But how much were they mi&s;taken, if their de&s;ign were to hinder <HI>Policrite</HI> from lo|ving <HI>Philoxypes.</HI></P>
<P>Sometimes &s;hee was filled with joy, to know that &s;he was of Noble de&s;cent; and afterwards, being willing to make u&s;e thereof; to drive thereby the begining of affection which <HI>Philoxypes</HI> worth had al|ready rai&s;ed in her, out of her heart, &s;hee found it the more fortified by this know|ledge. For &s;aid &s;hee, the knowledge of what I am, doth not take from the obliga|tion which I ow him; &s;ince he knows not that I am any thing more then what I &s;eem to be.</P>
<P>But for me, who now know what I am, why &s;hould I not hope that the Gods per|mitting <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to know my true condi|tition, may not &s;o order it, as that I may love him and be blamele&s;s, and be belo|ved by him innocently? No, no, <HI>Policrite</HI> added &s;hee, let us no longer defend our
<PB N="67" REF="39">
heart any longer with &s;uch opiniatrecie; let us content our &s;elves with concealing our recentments, &amp; do nothing that &s;hall be faulty: &amp; let us not reject, as a mi&s;chief the love of a Prince, to whom the wi&s;e&s;t king of the world would not refu&s;e to giv his daughter. But it may be, &s;aid &s;he, that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> doth but counterfeit, that he hath &s;inful thoughts towards thee, and that thy &s;implicity abu&s;eth thee.</P>
<P>Stay then, &s;aid &s;he, to be re&s;olved here|in, and make trial of his con&s;tancy and fi|delity, by an appearing indifferency, which may leave him without hope.</P>
<P>Thus was <HI>Policrite</HI> minded, when <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> came to her; as &s;oon as &s;he &s;aw, him &s;he b<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">gan to go towards her Cottage; but he, advancing ha&s;tily, &s;tayed her; yet not being above twenty paces from it, and there being two of her women-&s;ervants at work in a Clo&s;e hard by them, &s;he &s;tayed. What, <HI>Policrite,</HI> &s;aid he, you &s;hun a Prince, who &s;huns all the world for love of you? Sir, &s;aid &s;he, (after &s;omewhat more an imperious manner then before, though &s;he intended not &s;o to do) I do what peradventure you ought to doe: For in fine, what advan|tage
<PB N="68" REF="40">
can you hope for by your vi&s;its and &s;olicitations? The contentment &s;aid he, to hear from your fair mouth, that you do not hate me: If that be all you de|&s;ire to be &s;atisfied in, replyed &s;he, you may ea&s;ily compa&s;&s;e your de&s;ires; but ask no more, upon pain of refu&s;all. What, lovely <HI>Policrite,</HI> &s;aid he, will you never love me, and &s;hall all I can do to win your affection, prove u&s;ele&s;s? no, 'tis impo&s;&s;ible, were you as incen&s;ible, as tho&s;e pictures which I have of you. My pictures, replyed <HI>Policrite?</HI> Yes, added <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> I am not &s;o unfortunate as you think for; in de&s;pight of you, and without your con&s;ent, I have the con|tentment of &s;eeing you daily.</P>
<P>Ah! &s;aid <HI>Policrite,</HI> I perceive <HI>Mandro|cles</HI> hath betrayed me, and hath fal&s;ified his word. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> askt her then, how &s;he came to know <HI>Mandrocles?</HI> She told him how that famous Painter walking daily when his lei&s;ure would permit him, among&s;t tho&s;e rocks to draw &s;ome lan|skips, had one day by chance light up|on their hou&s;e: where, having &s;een her, he had begg'd leave of <HI>Cleanthes</HI> to draw her pict<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">re, which <HI>Cleanthes</HI> would have
<PB N="69" REF="40">
refu&s;ed him, but that &s;eeing his impor|tunity, he was afraid le&s;t he might &s;peak of her to him at <HI>Claria,</HI> and that there|fore he gave way unto his de&s;ire, upon condition that he &s;hould not make u&s;e of this picture, in any of his pieces, but as of a head made by fancy and imagina|tion, and making him take a &s;olemn oath, never to &s;peak with any body who&s;oe|ver, of any acquaintance he had with them. That &s;ince that time, as long as <HI>Mandrocles</HI> tarryed at <HI>Claria,</HI> he came to teach her to de&s;ign, and had drawn her picture in twenty &s;everal po&s;tures. She then enquired of <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> whether <HI>Mandrocles</HI> had &s;poken to him of her, or no? And he told her the whole truth: but you may perceive, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> that the Godde&s;s whom you repre&s;ent, intends not that you &s;hould always be inhumane, &s;ince &s;he would her &s;elf appear in your vizage.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid &s;he, not being of your I&s;le, my devotion leads me rather to be a Vo|tre&s;s to <HI>Diana,</HI> then to wor&s;hip <HI>Venus U|rania;</HI> therefore it is not this your rea&s;on that will prevail with me: to boot, that his Godde&s;s approving only of &s;uch pa&s;|&s;ions
<PB N="70" REF="41">
as are innocent, will certainly ne|ver councel me to admit of yours. Ver|tues &s;elf, replyed <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> would ad|vi&s;e you to it; and did you know my heart, you would need no other Coun|cellor then your &s;elf. It would take up &s;o much time, replied &s;he, to make me know it, as I &s;hall advi&s;e you not to un|dertake the work. But &s;aid he, if I do undertake it, and if I make it evident to you, that never man loved any thing as I love you, what will you then think? I would think, &s;aid &s;he, that you were very unfortunate, in having &s;o pa&s;&s;io|nately loved one, who is unworthy of &s;o much honor. But &s;aid he, would you think your &s;elf any waies obliged unto me? I &s;hould be &s;orrie for you, &s;aid &s;he, and would wi&s;h your cure either by ab|&s;ence, or by forgetfulne&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>Ah! cruel maid, &s;aid he, wi&s;h it rather by your compa&s;&s;ion and charity; and pro|mi&s;e me only that you will afford me lei|&s;ure to per&s;wade you, that I am the mo&s;t in love of all men. To do as you &s;ay, &s;aid &s;he, would be to be &s;omewhat per|&s;waded thereunto already; therefore (and with this, &s;he walked towards her Cot|tage)
<PB N="71" REF="41">
I will li&s;ten no longer to you. Af|ter this manner did <HI>Philoxypes</HI> pa&s;s away his time; having but very few moments of delight, among&s;t many howres of angui&s;h.</P>
<P>This mean while, he could not endure to tarry at <HI>Paphos,</HI> and when he went thi|ther, all he could do, was only to vi&s;it the Prince&s;&s;e <HI>Aretephile,</HI> which the King compelled him to do; but he appeared &s;o melancholly, and &s;o changed, as he was hardly to be known. The King, who loved him dearly, was much afflicted to &s;ee it; he together with the whole court, &s;ought what might be the occa&s;ion of this alteration; but they could not finde it. The King askt it of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;elf, but could learn nothing. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> an&s;we|ring alwaies, that it was &s;ome melancho|ly, which proceeded certainly from his temper, and from &s;ome little indi&s;po&s;iti|on of health.</P>
<P>But &s;aid the King, &s;olitarine&s;s is no u|&s;ual cure for &s;uch incommodities; where|fore you ought not to go any more to <HI>Claria:</HI> Yet affairs went &s;till on thus, yea even when Winter was come, which did the more a&s;toni&s;h the whole Court; they
<PB N="72" REF="42">
knew he built no more at <HI>Claria,</HI> that the Painters and Engravers, who had been &s;o long there, were all gone; that the &s;ea&s;on was foul; that when he went thi|ther, 'twas but with a &s;mall train; and that he walked alwaies alone: they &s;aw a &s;trange &s;adne&s;&s;e in his face, and a won|derful alteration; and all this without any appearing cau&s;e. The King heaped favours and honours upon him; he askt him an hundred times, what he vvould de&s;ire of him: he had not any one ene|mie; the whole Court loved him; hee was exceeding rich; he appeared not to have any &s;ickne&s;&s;e, as the Phy&s;itians could perceive: In fine, his melancholie and retiredne&s;&s;e, were things which could not be gue&s;t at. The whole Court talkt of nothing el&s;e; and the King was &s;trange|ly troubled at it; who, not knowing how to inform him&s;elf of what <HI>Philoxypes</HI> ail|ed, he bethought him&s;elf of me, whom he knew this Prince did love particular|ly, and in whom he did more confide, then in any other.</P>
<P>Thus upon a day, when <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was gone to <HI>Claria,</HI> the King &s;ent for me; and after having a&s;&s;ured his Maje&s;tie, (as it
<PB N="73" REF="42">
was true) that I knew nothing of parti|cular concerning this Prince his melan|choly, he did me the honour to command me to go to him, and to u&s;e all my cun|ning to di&s;cover what it was that was in his minde: For, &s;aid he, <HI>Leontidas,</HI> I doe &s;o love <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> as I cannot live con|tent unle&s;&s;e I &s;ee he do &s;o likewi&s;e; and were it to give him half my Kingdom, I would doubtle&s;ly do it, rather then not to give him &s;atisfaction.</P>
<P>I then departed, reallie intending to endeavour to &s;atisfie the Kings curio&s;itie, who certainlie &s;tood in need of <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> pre&s;ence, to coun&s;el and comfort him concerning <HI>Aretephiles</HI> behaviour; for I think there was never known a &s;tiffer combat between ambition and love.</P>
<P>I went then to <HI>Claria</HI> where I found <HI>Philoxypes</HI> in his u&s;ual melancholie; the which I made the greater, becau&s;e I hin|dred him from going that daie to <HI>Clean|thes.</HI> At fir&s;t &s;ight of me, he endeavo|red notwith&s;tanding, to inforce him&s;elf to honor me &s;o much, as to &s;eem glad to &s;ee me; but it was after a fa&s;hion, which made me ea&s;ilie &s;ee that his heart gain|&s;aid his words; and that notwith&s;tan|ding
<PB N="74" REF="43">
any friend&s;hip he had for me, he wi&s;ht I had tarried &s;till at <HI>Paphos.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Leontidas!</HI> &s;aid he, I am much behol|ding to you for coming to vi&s;it me in a &s;ea&s;on, when the Countrie hath lo&s;t all its ornaments; and when the Court is fulle&s;t of diver&s;ions.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, you commend me with le&s;s rea&s;on, then the Court complains of you; for to forgo <HI>Paphos</HI> for <HI>Claria,</HI> when you are there, 'tis to forgo the Court, for the Court; nay, for the mo&s;t plea|&s;ing part of the Court: but to forgo <HI>Pa|phos,</HI> only to &s;eek out &s;olitarines at <HI>Claria,</HI> as you do, Oh, Sir, &s;aid I, (not &s;u&s;pect|ing him notwith&s;tanding of any pa&s;&s;ion) 'tis all that a Prince in love, who is up|on bad tearms with his Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, can do. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> blu&s;ht at the&s;e words, and looking upon me with a kind of &s;mile, which did not, notwith&s;tanding drive the melancholy from his countenance; I perceive, <HI>Leontidas,</HI> &s;aid he, I am not &s;o much beholding to you, as I had thought, &s;ince doubtle&s;lie you are come hither rather to chide me, then to vi&s;it me.</P>
<P>I am come, Sir, &s;aid I, to trie whe|ther
<PB N="75" REF="43">
I may not be able to &s;erve you in a time when all the world believes that &s;omewhat of great importance, which they cannot gue&s;s at, doth afflict you. <HI>Le|ontidas,</HI> &s;aid he, I am much bound to you, but I &s;hould be &s;o more, if you could hin|der the Court from looking &s;o far into my heart. For I confe&s;s &s;aid he, I finde it &s;omewhat hard that a man may not look inwards &s;ometimes, though whil&s;t he does &s;o, he is hardly ma&s;ter of his own minde.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, were you le&s;s beloved, you would not &s;uffer under this per&s;ecution which you complain of: This kinde of Love replied he, cau&s;eth in me no &s;mall &s;uffering: For what can I more rational|ly do, then to conceal my Melanchollie in a retiredne&s;s, to the end that I may not trouble the joy of others. But Sir, &s;aid I, tis the cau&s;e of this Melanchollie which every body &s;eeks after, and none can finde: as for my particular, I mu&s;t crave your pardon if I do. For Sir, tis not am|bition that torments you. No, <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, if I were &s;ick of that di&s;ea&s;e, the King would quicklie cure me. Neither is it revenge, &s;aid I, for not being hated
<PB N="76" REF="44">
by any, it is not to be believed that you are po&s;&s;e&s;t with hatred. You have rea&s;on for what you &s;ay, &s;aid he; and &s;ighing ad|ded, I think I am mine own greate&s;t ene|mie. It is not &s;aid I again the pa&s;&s;ion which you have for books, for that pa&s;&s;ion may cau&s;e &s;olitarine&s;s, but not &s;uch melancho|ly as you are po&s;&s;e&s;t withall. And more|over, you have had that pa&s;&s;ion a long time, without the product of &s;o bad an ef|fect. It is not books certainly &s;aid he, which cau&s;e my trouble, which were I capable of rea&s;on, would rather be my comfort. It is not Love &s;aid I, that torments you, for you &s;ee none that can cau&s;e it in you. Conclude then, &s;aid he, taking me in his arms, that there is no more to be &s;aid, but that I hate my &s;elf, that I have lo&s;t my rea&s;on, and if my friends be wi&s;e, they will let me alone, and will leave the knowledge, or cure of my malladie, to the proce&s;s of time.</P>
<P>Sir &s;aid I, &s;hall <HI>Leontidas,</HI> who hath &s;o particular an affection for you, be dealt withall as others are? &s;hal he have known nothing more of your concernments, then do your enemies, if any &s;uch you have? Ah, Sir, &s;aid I, you mu&s;t if you plea&s;e do o|therwi&s;e:
<PB N="77" REF="44">
&amp; to prove to you that <HI>Leontidas</HI> doth in &s;om &s;ort de&s;erve you &s;hould do &s;o, know Sir, that hitherto I have &s;poken un|to you as a &s;pie, &s;ent by the King, who will know at what&s;oever pri&s;e, what tis that afflicts your minde. But after having boot|le&s;ly acquitted my &s;elf of my Commi&s;&s;ion, I &s;peak no longer Sir, as one &s;ent by the King, but as one who is re&s;olved to &s;erve you with his life, if it &s;hall be needfull; and never ab&s;olutely to give you over till he know the cau&s;e of your Melancholy: for Sir, if there be no cau&s;e of this Me|lancholy, and that it be but a di&s;temper of humours, I mu&s;t &s;tay here, that I may endeavour, mauger your &s;elf, to divert you; and if there be any cau&s;e for it, <HI>Le|ontidas</HI> mu&s;t likewi&s;e &s;erve you therein, if there &s;hould redound no other benefit to you thereby, then to help you to keep it concealed from the King, and from the whole Court, if you de&s;ire it &s;hould be concealed from them.</P>
<P>I do not know any way, &s;aid he, to keep it undi&s;covered better, then to tell it to no body.</P>
<P>But Sir, &s;aid I, if you treat me with this indifferencie, when I &s;hall return to <HI>Pa|phos,</HI>
<PB N="78" REF="45">
and the King &s;hall ask me what I think of your Melancholie, I mu&s;t needs &s;ay &s;omething to him.</P>
<P>And what will you &s;ay to him, replied <HI>Philoxypes?</HI> I think Sir, &s;aid I, that to re|venge my &s;elf for the little confidence you have in me, I will &s;ay what I do no waies believe, to wit, that you are in love; and that the &s;hame of your former inflex|ablene&s;s, or of your new weakne&s;s, hin|ders you from avowing it: nay, I will per|adventure tel him, &s;aid I, in mockerie, that that <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> which people have &s;o much quarrel'd with you about &s;ince the great fea&s;t which you made here, and which did precede but a few daies your melancholy humor hath &s;truck you effect|ually in love. In fine &s;ir, there is nothing of &s;o odd, which I &s;hall not &s;ay to revenge my &s;elf for the wrong you do the pa&s;&s;ion which I have to your &s;ervice.</P>
<P>During this di&s;cour&s;e; <HI>Philoxypes</HI> chan|ged colour twentie times; and were it out of friend&s;hip, or out of my importu+nitie, or that indeed tho&s;e that are in love love naturallie to &s;peak thereof, he took me by the hand, led me into his Cabinet, and after having made me take &s;undrie
<PB N="79" REF="45">
&s;olemn Oaths, never to di&s;cover what he &s;hould &s;ay unto me; and all this with as much ceremonie, and pre&s;&s;ure, as if he had &s;ome con&s;piracie to di&s;cover unto me again&s;t the &s;tate, or &s;ome attempt upon the Kings Per&s;on; he told me that he was in love.</P>
<P>What Sir, &s;aid I, the&s;e retirements, the&s;e Melanchollies, and this impenetra|ble &s;ecret, which all the world in vain &s;eeks to finde out: is it onely that you are in Love? Ah, <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, mock not at my mi&s;ery; for it is greater then you can imagine. But Sir, &s;aid I, I have much ado to imagine that you can be &s;o unfortunate as you &s;ay, &s;ince <HI>I</HI> cannot conceive that there is e're a Prince&s;s in the Kingdom (except ambitious <HI>Arete|phile,</HI> who will be Queen) who will not favourably entertain your affection, when you &s;hall make it known unto her. Alas! &s;aid he, with a &s;igh, Love hath dealt much more cruellie with me then you are aware of; and &s;ince <HI>I</HI> mu&s;t di&s;cover unto you the &s;ecret of my heart, know that <HI>I</HI> have met with an invincible re&s;i&s;tance, in one who lives among&s;t the&s;e rocks, and dwels but in a cottage.</P>
<P><PB N="80" REF="46">
Yes <HI>Leondidas, I</HI> have found a maid, or to &s;ay better, <HI>I</HI> have found virtue it &s;elf, wholely pure, and under the vi&s;eage of <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> which hath and doth yet re&s;i&s;t me. A maid who is not touch'd with ambition; in whom beautie cau&s;eth no affectation nor pride; who hath &s;impli|citie and wit, gallantrie and &s;inceritie; and who in a &s;andie and de&s;art place, which the Gods alone have pointed out unto me: &s;peaks better then all the wittie&s;t Ladies in the Court</P>
<P>But when all this is done, &s;he lives in a Cottage, her condition appears to be ve|ry mean, if <HI>I</HI> con&s;ider all that is about her; and when <HI>I</HI> con&s;ider onely her &s;elf, or do but hear her &s;peak, &s;hee appears to be up|on a throne: Her Governours are virtu|ous, and di&s;creet, but &s;till <HI>Leontidas</HI> they live in a Cottage, and will not abandon it. At la&s;t &s;aid he with tears almo&s;t &s;tanding in his eies, <HI>I</HI> am the mo&s;t unfortunate of all men: <HI>I</HI> have a pa&s;&s;ion which <HI>I</HI> cannot overcome, and which <HI>I</HI> will not have known: <HI>I</HI> too much re&s;pect <HI>Policrite</HI>'s worth (for &s;o is &s;hee called of whom <HI>I</HI> &s;peak) to have any &s;inful de&s;ire towards
<PB N="81" REF="46">
her, which though <HI>I</HI> &s;hould have, t'would be to no purpo&s;e: <HI>I</HI> likewi&s;e am too great a lover of Glorie, to re&s;olve to marry a maid of this condition without much re|pugnancie,; Yet can <HI>I</HI> not live without her: my &s;ufferings are &s;uch that <HI>I</HI> cannot expre&s;s them, and &s;eeing no remedie for my Malladie; <HI>I</HI> bear it patientlie with|out complaining of it, and void of all hope but death.</P>
<P><HI>Phyloxypes</HI> told me this in &s;o feeling a manner, as <HI>I</HI> much pittied him: He then told me all that had befallen him: How t'was he met <HI>Policrite,</HI> how he was &s;urprized that it was &s;hee by whom <HI>Man|drocles</HI> had drawn the Picture of <HI>Venus Ura|nia,</HI> and all the re&s;t which <HI>I</HI> have told you. <HI>I</HI> was &s;omewhat &s;urprized at this fanta&s;t|ick pa&s;&s;ion, chieflie when <HI>I</HI> call'd to mind <HI>Philoxypes</HI> former inflexiblene&s;s; Yet did <HI>I</HI> endeavor to comfort him. Sir, &s;aid <HI>I,</HI> &s;uch a beauty as that is which you re|pre&s;ent unto me, and &s;uch a one as <HI>I</HI> have &s;een in the <HI>Venus</HI> in your Gallerie, bears &s;ome excu&s;e with it, of what condition &s;oever the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ors are, e&s;peciallie when it occa&s;ions onelie &s;om pa&s;&s;ing pa&s;|&s;ions, and which are of no long durance,
<PB N="82" REF="47">
as <HI>I</HI> wil hope yours will prove. No, no, &s;aid he <HI>Leontydas,</HI> do not deceive your &s;elves; <HI>I</HI> will love <HI>Polycrite</HI> till death. But Sir, not to abu&s;e your patience, perceiving <HI>Philoxypes</HI> grievance too great to be cured <HI>I</HI> &s;moothed it, and &s;weetened it as much as po&s;&s;ible <HI>I</HI> could. He then led me into his gallerie, to &s;hew me his excu&s;e, though <HI>I</HI> had &s;een his pictures many times before: we afterwards walked abroad, but he be|ing able onely to walk one way, we were &s;oon among&s;t the Rocks, in a place from whence we might di&s;cover <HI>Policryte</HI>'s ha|bitation, which we no &s;ooner &s;aw, but blu&s;hing with confu&s;ion, he &s;aid tis there my dear <HI>Leontydas</HI> where &s;he that <HI>I</HI> adore doth live; tis underneath that roofe, which <HI>I</HI> prefer before the proude&s;t Pala|ces, that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> findes &s;ome moments of content: and tis there in fine that all my joy and happine&s;s is circum&s;cribed. Sir &s;aid <HI>I,</HI> there needs no greater proofes of <HI>Polycrytes</HI> beautie, then the &s;malne&s;s of her Cottage; and who&s;oever &s;hall ima|gine that <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> affection is placed therein, cannot doubt but that he hath ar|gued the matter with him&s;elf as much as he was able.</P>
<P><PB N="83" REF="47">
In fine, Sir, after that he had enlarged him&s;elf in expre&s;&s;ing <HI>Policrytes</HI> charming beautie, not &s;uffering me to &s;ee her for fear of offending her: <HI>I</HI> mu&s;t think of re|turning to <HI>Paphos,</HI> for <HI>I</HI> had promi&s;ed the King to return that very night. <HI>I</HI> asked <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> what <HI>I</HI> &s;hould &s;ay unto him; any thing &s;aid he my dear <HI>Leontydas</HI> rather then the truth of my adventure: For in the minde that <HI>I</HI> am of, <HI>I</HI> think that <HI>I</HI> &s;hould run mad if the King &s;hould know it.</P>
<P>I then left him after he had made me &s;wear a hundred times, not to di&s;cover the lea&s;t part of his misfortune. I went to finde out the King, who expected me with much impatiency, and who had pur|po&s;ely withdrawn him&s;elf early, to the end that I might &s;peak with more free|dom to him when I &s;hould return.</P>
<P>And How, <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he? what doth our &s;olitarie companion do?</P>
<P>Sir &s;aid I, terming him as you do, your Maje&s;ty may ea&s;ily gue&s;s at what he does. He mu&s;es, he walks, he reads; looks upon his pictures, and &s;tatues; goes from one place to another, and &s;eeking ea&s;e every where, he findes it no where.</P>
<P><PB N="84" REF="48">
But <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, you &s;peak to me as <HI>Philoxypes</HI> doth, and tis not that which I expect from you.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, I have done all I am able to &s;atisfie your Maje&s;tie; but I confe&s;s my journey hath not been &s;o &s;ucce&s;sfull as I hoped for: For all that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;aies, is only that he findes him&s;elf &s;omewhat ill di&s;po&s;ed, and that he is po&s;&s;e&s;t with a Melancholy which he cannot ma&s;ter.</P>
<P>Did you ask him &s;aid the King, whe|ther it were not that he did wi&s;h for &s;om|what which I have not be thought my &s;elf to give him, becau&s;e I knew not that he did de&s;ire it?</P>
<P>Oh, Sir, &s;aid I, (thinking I had done well) it is not ambition that torments <HI>Philoxypes</HI> who is &s;o &s;atisfied with your Maje&s;ties goodne&s;s, as he de&s;ires nothing more then what he hath.</P>
<P>Have you then di&s;covered, &s;aid he, that he hath any thing of private di&s;content a|gain&s;t any one of this Court? For if it be &s;o, I will make his intere&s;t mine, and will as &s;everely revenge any injury done unto him, as if it had been done unto my &s;elf.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> appears to be &s;o well beloved of all the world, as tis hard
<PB N="85" REF="48">
to think any one &s;hould injure him. I know not then what to imagine, &s;aid the King; but if <HI>Philoxypes</HI>'s Ambition be &s;a|tisfied, and that it is not hatred nor re|venge that doth trouble him, he mu&s;t needs be in Love.</P>
<P>Your Maje&s;tie, Sir, &s;aid I, doth too wel know <HI>Philoxypes</HI>'s inflexiblene&s;s, to &s;u|&s;pect any &s;uch thing in him. No <HI>Leonty|das,</HI> &s;aid he, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> pa&s;t obduretie, is not a Rea&s;on &s;trong enough to per&s;wade me that he is obdurat &s;til. I am almo&s;t con|fident that tis this pa&s;&s;ion which robs me of <HI>Philoxypes</HI>'s companie; For in fine he hath all the marks of one in love. His countenance is altered, he not having been &s;ick; he is melancholly without a|ny appearing cau&s;e: he doth little el&s;e but rave; he cannot &s;tay long in a place; he conceals his melancholly from us; he cannot endure that one &s;hould take no|tice of it; he gives over thinking of his affairs; he vi&s;its none but by con&s;traint, and unle&s;s it be the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretephile,</HI> whom he hath &s;een by my command, he hath not vi&s;ited any one Ladie &s;ince we were at <HI>Claria.</HI></P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, part of what you alleadge to
<PB N="86" REF="49">
prove that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is in Love, me thinks makes for the contrarie: For if he were in Love, he would certainly &s;eek out the partie beloved; we &s;hould never &s;ee him from her: in&s;tead of being me|lanchollie, he would &s;tudie to play the Gallant more, and would be the more &s;o|ciable: and in&s;tead of &s;eeking out &s;olita|rine&s;s, as he doth, me thinks he &s;hould rather add to the Court diver&s;ions: and that his chiefe&s;t imployments &s;hould be mu&s;ick, Baals, conver&s;ation, and going a|broad.</P>
<P>You &s;ay well, an&s;wered the King, for what concerns ordinarie pa&s;&s;ions, or &s;uch Lovers as have been fortunate in their af|fections; but there are certain giddie headed pa&s;&s;ions out of the common road, which ari&s;ing from a melanchollie an|gui&s;h, feed them&s;elves therewithall, and &s;hun what&s;oever affords delight. But that which doth a little trouble me, is that I cannot imagin who tis that <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> can love, &amp; be hardlie dealt withal by; for certainly there is never a Ladie in all my Court, who would not glorie in ha|ving wonn his heart: and moreover I have not ob&s;erved that he hath ap|plied
<PB N="87" REF="49">
him&s;elf to conver&s;e with any one in particular, yet doubtle&s;lie <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> is in Love.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, be not &s;o re&s;olute in your a&s;|&s;ertion, till you have &s;tronger proofes thereof, and till you may at lea&s;t conject|ture who it is he is in love withall. The King began then to number over all the Ladies of the Court, one by one, &amp; found not any one of them that he was likelie to be in Love withall.</P>
<P>He then began to walk not &s;aying one word: &s;oon after I &s;aw &s;ome colour com in his face, and pre&s;ently, me thought, he was much di&s;quieted.</P>
<P><HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, you know more then you will tell me.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid I, I have &s;aid nothing but truth unto your Maje&s;tie. For in fine <HI>Phyloxy|pes</HI> his Ambition is &s;atisfied; he hath no enemies that I know of; and if I be not deceived, the faire&s;t Ladies of the Court have no great power over him.</P>
<P>Ah! <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, you conceal the truth from me; but I know it without your telling. Yes, <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> doth Love, and &s;o love, as doubtle&s;lie he is much afflicted thereat, and which he
<PB N="88" REF="50">
will with&s;tand and overcome: were not my thought true, he would not make his pa&s;&s;ion &s;o great a &s;ecret. But good Gods, &s;aid he, how unfortunate am I? and to what &s;trange extremitie am I reduced; for in fine, <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, confe&s;s the truth, <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> mauger him&s;elf, is be|come my rival, and his grief for it is the cau&s;e of his melanchollie.</P>
<P>Ah! Sir, &s;aid I, (not having lea&s;ure to think of what I &s;aid) I know not the cau&s;e of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his melanchollie; but I very well know he is not in Love with Prince&s;s <HI>Aretephile,</HI> and that he too much re&s;pects your Maje&s;tie to &s;uffer &s;uch a thought enter his bre&s;t.</P>
<P>Think well <HI>Leontydas,</HI> &s;aid he, on what you &s;ay: you a&s;&s;ure me you know not the cau&s;e of <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> his melanchollie, and yet you know he is not my rivall: once more <HI>Leontydas,</HI> if you know the bu&s;ine&s;s, let me know it: or if you know it not; confe&s;s my &s;u&s;pitions are well grounded, and fear not for all this, that I wi&s;h any harm to <HI>Phyloxypes:</HI> on the contrarie I &s;hal be beholden to him for it.</P>
<P>I was extreamly troubled to hear the King talk thus; for without violating
<PB N="89" REF="50">
what we hold mo&s;t &s;acred, I could not re|veal <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his &s;ecret, which he had made me &s;wear above a hundred times not to do.</P>
<P>To con&s;ent likewi&s;e that the King &s;hould &s;u&s;pect him to be his Rivall, me thought it was a bu&s;ine&s;s of too great im|portance to leave him in that opinion; but the more I per&s;waded him to the con|trarie, the more firmly did he believe it. No, &s;aid he, I am cau&s;e of mine own mi&s;|fortune, and of <HI>Phylxoipes</HI> his misfortune too: tis <HI>I</HI> who made him vi&s;it <HI>Aretephile</HI> more then any other; tis mine own hand that hath enthrall'd him, and tis <HI>I</HI> who am the cau&s;e of all his &s;ufferings: For &s;aid he, <HI>I</HI> ea&s;ilie comprehend he &s;eeks out all this &s;olitarine&s;s onely to rid him of this pa&s;&s;ion: nay, <HI>I</HI> have ob&s;erved that of late he hath been troubled as oft as <HI>I</HI> have &s;poken to him to &s;peak to <HI>Aretephile,</HI> that he hath &s;hun'd &s;uch Commi&s;&s;ions as much as he could; and I am too much per&s;wa|ded that he hath argued the bu&s;ine&s;s &s;tifly with him&s;elf, and I am the onely cau&s;e of what he &s;uffers.</P>
<P>Good gods, &s;aid he, how great is my misfortune? there is not any one man in
<PB N="90" REF="51">
all my Kingdom, whom I &s;hould not hate if he were my rival, unle&s;s it be he; and there is not any Ladie in the Court, in who&s;e Love he would not have been hap|pie, except <HI>Aretaphile.</HI></P>
<P>But Sir, &s;aid I again, I prote&s;t unto you he is not in love with her; and I prote&s;t to you, replied he, expre&s;&s;ing an extream grief, that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is my Rival; for were it not &s;o, he would not conceal his pa&s;&s;ion from me.</P>
<P>The re&s;pect he bears to you, &s;aid I, ought to hinder him from &s;o doing, if he were in Love.</P>
<P>No, no, replied he, you &s;hall no longer abu&s;e me; and I am equally per&s;waded of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his love, of his innocencie, and of my misfortune. For in fine, that the man in the world that I love be&s;t, &s;hould fall in Love with the onelie&s;t Ladie that I can Love: and that I &s;hould &s;ee my &s;elf cruelly nece&s;&s;itated, either to for&s;ake <HI>A|retaphile,</HI> or to &s;ee <HI>Philoxypes</HI> die, it is an un|&s;ufferable adventure.</P>
<P>Sir, I be&s;eech you, &s;aid I, expect till &s;he hath once more &s;een <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> and have ab&s;olutelie commanded him to di&s;cover his heart unto her, before you re&s;olve on
<PB N="91" REF="51">
any thing; and if you plea&s;e I will bring him hither to morrow morning.</P>
<P>No, no, replied the King, you &s;hall not &s;tir out of the Pallace this day; nor &s;hall you &s;ee <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> before me. In effect this Prince gave one of his &s;ervants charge over me; and commanded me to with|draw into a Chamber, which was appoin|ted for me in the Pallace.</P>
<P>'Twould be too difficult a thing to re|pre&s;ent unto you my vexation, and the Kings di&s;quiet: &s;ince to tell you true, he had as much friend&s;hip for <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> as Love for <HI>Aretaphile.</HI></P>
<P>Who ever &s;aw, &s;aid he, (for he him&s;elf told it afterwards) an adventure like to mine? I have a Rival whom I mu&s;t love in de&s;pight of me, and who gives me more occa&s;ion to love him, for the affe|ction he bears to my Mi&s;tre&s;s, then for all the &s;ervice he ever did me; and then for all the good Offices he hath done me to her, it being certain that I need onely look upon him, to &s;ee what he &s;uffers in my con&s;ideration; and that I need onely con&s;ider what life he leads, to &s;ee how much I am beholden to him. I ob&s;erve in his eies a melancholly, which makes me
<PB N="92" REF="52">
apprehend his death: and I &s;eein all his actions, vi&s;ible &s;igns of his love to <HI>Areta|phile,</HI> and of his re&s;pect to me. What &s;hall I do, &s;aid he? &s;hall I &s;eem not to know this pa&s;&s;ion, and let <HI>Philoxypes</HI> die? But tis no longer time to conceal what I think, &s;ince <HI>Leontidas</HI> knows it. <HI>Leontidas</HI> who is &s;o much his confident, and &s;hares &s;o deeply in his friend&s;hip: &s;hall I al&s;o tel <HI>Philoxypes</HI> that I know his love, and not complain of him? and if I &s;hould com|plain, how weak a &s;uccor would this be? I &s;hould peradventure ha&s;ten his hour of death, by making him di&s;pair. But &s;hall I quit <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> and let my friend&s;hip ex|ceed my Love? <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his pa&s;&s;ion is unju&s;t; but pa&s;&s;ions are not voluntarie, and he hath done what ever he could, or ought to have done, &s;ince not being able to keep from loving, he hath yet kept from making his love known; and hath rather cho&s;en to hazard his life by his re|&s;pectfull &s;ilence, then to pre&s;erve it by making his pa&s;&s;ion known, which he knows will di&s;plea&s;e me.</P>
<P>The King pa&s;t the night in this manner very unquietly: &s;ometimes he was agi|tated with anger, and hatred, not know|ing
<PB N="93" REF="52">
whom he hated, or on whom he de|&s;ired to be revenged: &s;ometimes he did a little blame <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> for not having at the very fir&s;t acquainted him with his pa&s;&s;ion: &s;ometime he betook him&s;elf to <HI>Aretaphiles</HI> beauty; but at la&s;t he blamed him&s;elf.</P>
<P>Then &s;uddainly con&s;idering the pitti|full condition into which <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> was brought, and what an unhappy life he led, his heart was &s;o touched with compa&s;&s;ion as he did almo&s;t love his pretended Rival, better then his Mi&s;tre&s;s. He then called to minde, how that all the favours he had received from her, had been husbanded, and obtained by <HI>Phyloxipes</HI> his means. He pa&s;t the next morning in like perplexitie, and &s;trange irre&s;olutions; at la&s;t having dined &s;omewhat early, he went well ac|companied to lie that night at <HI>Claria,</HI> not affording me any opportunitie to give a|ny notice thereof to <HI>Philoxypes;</HI> for he into who&s;e cu&s;todie I was given, thinking it had been for &s;ome bu&s;ine&s;s of another nature, treated me as a pri&s;oner of the State and would not give me the lea&s;t li|bertie.</P>
<P>The king commanded me to follow him,
<PB N="94" REF="53">
&s;o as I came with him to <HI>Claria,</HI> he not ha|ving &s;poken one word all the way long, but mu&s;ing &s;till on his adventure: But when we were come thither, <HI>Phyloxipes</HI>'s people told the King, that their Ma&s;ter was not at home; and that according to his cu&s;tom, he was walked out all alone. The King informed him&s;elf carefully of one of his &s;ervants, who had a long time waited on him, whether he knew not the cau&s;e of his Ma&s;ters melancholly: this &s;ervant who loved his Ma&s;ter dearly, that he might make u&s;e of the honour the King did him in &s;peaking to him, &s;aid;</P>
<P><HI>Sir, I know not what my ma&s;ter ayles, but this I know, that if your Maje&s;tie out of your goodne&s;s finde not &s;ome means to cure him of the Melancholly which po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth him, he will certain+ly not live long; For he eats little, hardly &s;leeps at all, does nothing but &s;igh, cannot endure that one &s;hould &s;peak to him about bu&s;ines, wanders whole daies in the fields; and I once heard him cry out, when he little thought I did &s;o. Good gods, what would the King &s;ay, if he &s;aw how great my &s;adne&s;s is! and how hardly would he gue&s;s at the cau&s;e of my death?</HI></P>
<P>In fine Sir, &s;aid this man, with tears al|mo&s;t in his eyes, <HI>I know not what to &s;ay, but</HI>
<PB N="95" REF="53">
<HI>I am very certain your Maje&s;ty will lo&s;e the faithfulle&s;t of all your &s;ervants, if you lo&s;e the Prince my Ma&s;ter.</HI></P>
<P>While&s;t this man &s;pake thus, I was &s;trangely in pain; for I &s;aw all that he &s;aid tended to confirm the King in his Opini|on: I was much the better for beckning unto him, he never looked on me, &s;o in|tent was he to what he &s;aid.</P>
<P>The King on his part &s;ighed, and having left the other, well, <HI>Leontidas,</HI> you will not have it that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is in Love, nor that it is <HI>Aretaphile</HI> whom he loves? Sir, &s;aid I, I confe&s;s I am &s;til of that belief, and I would your Maje&s;ty could re&s;olve to be &s;o too.</P>
<P>O, Unfortunate <HI>Philoxypes</HI> cried the King! (not an&s;wering me) how &s;ad is this di&s;temper? and how unfortunat am I my &s;elf, that I cannot ab&s;olutely cure thee of the Malladie that po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth thee. I would then have gone to finde out <HI>Phy|loxypes,</HI> that I might acquaint him with the Kings &s;en&s;e before he &s;aw him, but the King would not &s;uffer me: but ma|king the way be &s;hewn unto him, which <HI>Philoxypes</HI> mo&s;t u&s;ually went, we went di|rectly towards the head of <HI>Claria.</HI></P>
<P><PB N="96" REF="54">
<HI>Philoxypes</HI> was this mean while gone to <HI>Cleanthes</HI> his hou&s;e, where the face of af|fairs was a little altered; for <HI>Policrita-knowing</HI> that her condition was not what &s;he believed it to be, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his de&s;ert had made a further advancement in her heart then formerly: neither could &s;he &s;o well hide her affection, but that <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> were much to their grief aware thereof.</P>
<P>Yet was <HI>Philopyxes</HI> ne're a whit the more happie: for <HI>Policrite</HI> having tane a Fancie to make tryal of his affection by an appearing indifferency, did very care|fully conceal from him, the affection &s;hee had for him.</P>
<P>And in truth that very day that the King came to <HI>Claria,</HI> where we mi&s;t of <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> &s;he had cau&s;ed as much trouble in him, as admiration. For being gone to her, and having found her at the root of a a tree, where &s;hee was de&s;igning out a corner of the countrey which plea&s;ed her, he began to entertain her with his pa&s;&s;ion, and to tell her how it grew &s;till more violent upon him.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid &s;he, if I may be permitted to do &s;o, I &s;hould tell you, That if you de&s;ire
<PB N="97" REF="54">
to win my good e&s;teem, you &s;hould do better to tell me, that your pa&s;&s;ion grows every day more moderate: for to tell you the truth, I do &s;omewhat apprehend the&s;e extravagant pa&s;&s;ions, which I have heard &s;poken of, and which they &s;ay, does di&s;order rea&s;on, makes men lo&s;e the re&s;pect they ow to virtue, though it inha|bite in a Cottage, and which occa&s;ion a hundred &s;trange things, the very hearing whereof cau&s;eth horror; Therefore, Sir, if you would oblige me, you will &s;atisfie your &s;elf with telling me, you have affe|ction enough for me, to wi&s;h if it were po&s;&s;ible that Fortune had been more pro|pitious to me, that I had been born of a higher condition then I am, or at lea&s;t this not being &s;o, I might re&s;t content with my own condition, without envying o|thers.</P>
<P>To love you with indifferencie, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> (who acquainted me after|wards with this their conver&s;ation) your beautie &s;hould be indifferent, your virtue and di&s;cretion &s;hould be &s;o al&s;o: in fine that inexpre&s;&s;able Charm, which <HI>I</HI> finde in every of your words, looks, and a|ctions, ought not to inchant me as it doth:
<PB N="98" REF="55">
But divine <HI>Policrite,</HI> apprehend nothing from the violence of my pa&s;&s;ion; for the &s;tronger it is, the fuller of re&s;pect &s;hall <HI>I</HI> be, and the more obedient to your will.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid She, if what you &s;ay be true, &s;peak no more thereof <HI>I</HI> be&s;eech you; for not comprehending that <HI>I</HI> may lawfully give you any part of my affection, mee thinks I ought intreat you to entertain me no longer with yours.</P>
<P>But Divine <HI>Policrita,</HI> &s;aid he, for whom do you re&s;erve that Glorious affection, which you cruelly affirm I &s;hall never en|joy?</P>
<P>At the&s;e words &s;he blu&s;ht, and mode&s;t|ly bowing down her eyes, I re&s;erve it &s;aid &s;he, for our woods, fields, rocks, and foun|tains, whereof Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, &s;milingly, I think you will not be jealous.</P>
<P>I &s;hall not be jealous of them &s;aid hee, but I &s;hall envy them, and I &s;hall not ea&s;ily endure that you &s;hould love things to my prejudice, which cannot love you again. But cruel maid, will you &s;ay nothing to me of more obliging? and forgoing the Court as J do for love of you, and re|nouncing what ever is in the world, ex|cept
<PB N="99" REF="55">
it be <HI>Policrite;</HI> is it po&s;&s;ible you &s;hould not deal with me a little le&s;s &s;e|verely? J do not de&s;ire you to love me, &s;ay onely that you are not &s;orry that J love you; and add if you plea&s;e, that if J be not beloved, tis becau&s;e you neither do nor will love any thing.</P>
<P>For what's to come, &s;aid <HI>Policrite,</HI> tis a thing to which J ought not to an&s;wer with &s;uch a&s;&s;urance; and as you knew not the day before J had the honour to be known unto you, that you &s;hould &s;o oft for go your Pallaces to come to this Cot|tage wherein I live: how do I know whether the re&s;olution which I now take of &s;uffering no affection to enter my heart, will &s;till continue? No, Sir, wee mu&s;t not tru&s;t &s;o ab&s;olutely in our &s;elves; nor can I an&s;wer otherwi&s;e then for my pre&s;ent opinions.</P>
<P>Shew me then, replied he, what they really are; to the end I may know what to do.</P>
<P>Sir&punc; &s;aid <HI>Policrite,</HI> having much e|&s;teem, and much of re&s;pect for you, I mu&s;t confe&s;s I &s;hould be &s;orry that you &s;hould love one long, who&s;e condition were not an&s;werable to yours, and that I
<PB N="100" REF="56">
could not receive a much greater di&s;plea|&s;ure.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who knew not the hidden &s;en&s;e of the&s;e words, an&s;wered, That &s;u|pream beautie had in it, &s;omewhat of Coele&s;tiall, which did ennoble all tho&s;e that were therewithall indued.</P>
<P>In my opinion &s;aid &s;hee, a certain pro|portion is requi&s;ite in all things to occa&s;i|on love, therefore do not deceive your &s;elf; and if I were at any time to love a|ny body, it &s;hould certainly be one of my own condition: nor &s;hould I ever re&s;olve to marrie any one that were not &s;o.</P>
<P>What <HI>Policrite!</HI> &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> much afflicted, do you &s;peak the truth?</P>
<P>Yes; Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, and time will make you finde it &s;o.</P>
<P>But <HI>Policrite,</HI> replied he, you remem|ber not that you are a miracle, and that there are no men of your condition a|mid'&s;t the&s;e rocks, who de&s;erve &s;o much as to look upon you.</P>
<P>I will then love nothing, Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, and &s;o &s;hee ro&s;e up, for &s;hee &s;aw <HI>Clean|thes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> coming, who much trou|bled at this Prince his &s;o frequent vi&s;its, e&s;pecially, having ob&s;erved what they
<PB N="101" REF="56">
thought they had done in <HI>Policrites</HI> beha|viour, de&s;ired him not to give him&s;elf the trouble to come &s;o often thither.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who was &s;omewhat moved at tho&s;e cruel words (as he under&s;tood them) which <HI>Policrite</HI> had uttered which made notwith&s;tanding &s;o much for him, could not with his accu&s;tomed moderati|on receive the di&s;cour&s;e of <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> but anger might ea&s;ilie be &s;een in his face, and grief in his eyes.</P>
<P><HI>Cleanthes,</HI> &s;aid he, &s;ince I come not hi|ther to rob you of the trea&s;ure which the Gods have given you, with&s;tand not the &s;atisfaction which I finde in admiring that virtue in <HI>Policrite</HI> which you have infu&s;ed into her.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> though I very well know your worth, I cannot but fear lea&s;t <HI>Policrite</HI> who hath not yet lived long e|nough to know preci&s;ely what bounds to put to the re&s;pect &s;he ows you, may be failing in &s;omething either to you, or to her &s;elf.</P>
<P>No, no, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;omewhat roundly, you need not fear what you &s;ay, you may rather fear lea&s;t her &s;everity and yours make me lo&s;e my rea&s;on. In
<PB N="102" REF="57">
fine this conver&s;ation, though full of re|&s;pect to <HI>Policrite,</HI> was &s;o pa&s;&s;ionate, as <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> were much troubled at it, and <HI>Policrites</HI> &s;elf was &s;ufficiently di&s;quieted thereat, and was &s;orry that &s;he had &s;poken &s;o de&s;pitefully to <HI>Philoxypes.</HI> But at la&s;t this Prince departed much di&s;|contented, and much in love: and as he returned back with intention to get on hor&s;e back where he had wont to leave his followers, he met the King who was lighted on foot, and on whom I had the honour to wait.</P>
<P>You may imagine how much he was &s;urpri&s;ed at this &s;ight. As &s;oon as he &s;aw the King, &s;triving as much as he could to hide his Melancholy, he mended his pace, and having done his obey&s;ance, Sir &s;aid he, your Maje&s;ty quits <HI>Paphos</HI> in a &s;ea&s;on wherein you are not much accu&s;tomed to &s;eek out &s;olitary walks.</P>
<P>You have rea&s;on for what you &s;ay, &s;aid the King, but it &s;eems le&s;s &s;trange to me that I &s;hould come to &s;eek for <HI>Philoxypes</HI> at <HI>Claria,</HI> then that I &s;hould finde him a|mong&s;t the Rocks. The day being fair e|nough, though in Winter, the King who could no longer &s;tay from acquainting
<PB N="103" REF="57">
<HI>Philoxpesy</HI> with what he had in his heart, made a &s;ign to the few atht waited not him to &s;tand off, and commanded me to &s;tay.</P>
<P>There remained none then with him but <HI>Phyloxipes</HI> and my &s;elf; we all &s;tood &s;ilent for a good while, and certainly had all of us much differing thoughts. The King &s;eeing <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;o altered, &s;o me|lancholy, and &s;o perplex't endevoured to make his friend&s;hip out go his Love: <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> would have found by the King's eyes and mind, what the King had to &s;ay to him, and why he had taken this jour|ney, fearing by the &s;ignes which I made, lea&s;t he had di&s;covered his pa&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>For my particular, I was ready to go wilde, to think I could not adverti&s;e <HI>Phi|loxypes,</HI> nor dur&s;t not tell the King what I knew of his love, whom he took to be his Rivall; but at la&s;t this long &s;ilence where|in every one of us &s;aid &s;everal things un|to our &s;elves, was fir&s;t broke by the King, who looking in a much obliging manner upon this Prince, imbraced him, and &s;aid, be not offended that I know the &s;ecret of your &s;oul, and that I am not ignorant of the pa&s;&s;ion which torments you.
<PB N="104" REF="58">
<HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;urpri&s;ed to hear the King &s;peak thus, looked with a blu&s;h upon me; and the King imagining (as it was true) that he thought I had betrayed him, looked upon me too: and to puni&s;h me (as he told me afterwards) for not having told him the truth, not giving me leave to &s;peak, and not di&s;abu&s;ing <HI>Philoxypes</HI> in what he had conceived of me: once more &s;aid he, my dear <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> be not afflict|ed that I have di&s;covered your love, and believe I e&s;teem you never a whit the le&s;s.</P>
<P>Sir, replied <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> me thinks if your Maje&s;tie did know the true cau&s;e of my affliction, you &s;hould be &s;o good as to bewail me, and not to &s;peak of it.</P>
<P>No, <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> replied the King, my goodne&s;s &s;hall extend it &s;elf much further then &s;o, for you: I am come hither ex|pre&s;ly to accompany you in your &s;olitari|ne&s;s: for &s;ince I cannot make you happy, I mu&s;t at lea&s;t make my &s;elf unhappy with you.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> you altogether con|found me; take no &s;uch re&s;olution I be|&s;eech you, leave me to bear the puni&s;h|ment of my weakne&s;s alone, and believe
<PB N="105" REF="58">
me I &s;hall infinitely prai&s;e your goodne&s;s, if you wil &s;uffer me to die in peace amid&s;t the&s;e woods, and rocks.</P>
<P>The King touched with extream com|pa&s;&s;ion, once more &s;traitly imbraced <HI>Phi|loxypes,</HI> and looking upon him with a very &s;ad look, I crave your pardon &s;aid he <HI>Phi|loxypes,</HI> if I cannot as yet ab&s;olutely yeild <HI>Aretaphile</HI> to you: but I am come hither to endeavour to gain &s;ay for your &s;ake the pa&s;&s;ion I have for her, as you have &s;troven a long time for my &s;ake to &s;uppre&s;s the pa&s;&s;ion which &s;hee hath occa&s;ioned in you.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;urpri&s;ed at the Kings di&s;|cour&s;e, felt two contrary agitations at the &s;ame time: he was grieved to finde his odd opinion, and joyed that he knew not the true cau&s;e of his love, as he thought he had done. And believing that he might ea&s;ily di&s;abu&s;e him in a thing &s;o fal&s;e as the former was, he re&s;olved to continue the concealment of his true pa&s;|&s;ion.</P>
<P>The King then had no &s;ooner &s;aid what I have told you, but <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;tepping back a little, &s;aid, what Sir! does your Maje&s;ty &s;u&s;pect me of &s;o much boldne&s;s
<PB N="106" REF="59">
as to be your Rivall? Confe&s;s, &s;aid the King, for I know your misfortune hath been &s;uch, as not to be able to re&s;i&s;t <HI>Are|taphiles</HI> charms. But <HI>Phyloxipes,</HI> I blame you not for it; twas I that fir&s;t made try|all thereof; <HI>I</HI> know how inevitable they are; you have done more then I my &s;elf &s;hould have done: it may be had I your part to play, <HI>I</HI> &s;hould have betrayed my ma&s;ter, in&s;tead of re&s;olving to die of grief and &s;orrow, as you have done for my &s;ake. Thus <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> I am not di&s;plea&s;ed with you for loving <HI>Aretaphile.</HI></P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> to witne&s;s unto you that I am not in love with her, I promi&s;e you never to &s;ee her more, nor yet ever to come within <HI>Paphos,</HI> or at lea&s;t never to &s;peak to that Prince&s;s.</P>
<P>I very well know &s;aid the King, your Genero&s;ity rather leads you to re&s;olve on death, rather then to be failing in your duty. But <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> to the end you may not object unto me, That I have done nothing to vanqui&s;h my &s;elf, I am come to &s;tay at <HI>Claria,</HI> as well as you, that I may endeavor to cure my &s;elf of this pa&s;&s;ion, and to yeild up <HI>Aretaphile</HI> to you. You on your &s;ide &s;hall do the like, and he
<PB N="107" REF="59">
that is fir&s;t cured, &s;hall &s;urrender his part in her to the other.</P>
<P>But my dear <HI>Phyloxypes,</HI> &s;aid he, you are yet more unhappy then you think for, for when I &s;hould cea&s;e to love <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> you would not have wonn her heart: you know how ambitious &s;he is, that her &s;oul is onely &s;en&s;ible of greatne&s;s: and when I &s;hould have yeilded up my mi&s;tre&s;s to you, unle&s;s I &s;hould al&s;o yeild my Crown unto you, you would not winne much upon her inclination.</P>
<P>But in fine &s;aid he (not affording <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> lea&s;ure to an&s;wer him) if I yeild up <HI>Aretaphile</HI> to you, it will not be hard for me to yeild you up my Crown. And in a word, I will not be upbraided with your death.</P>
<P>I will do what I can to cure my &s;elf, to the end that you may cure your &s;elf; and if we can neither of us cure our &s;elves, we will at lea&s;t die together.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> I vow by what&s;oe|ver I hold mo&s;t &s;acred, and mo&s;t holy, that I have not the lea&s;t pretence to the Prin|ce&s;s <HI>Aretaphile.</HI></P>
<P>What then &s;aid the King, who did not believe him, is the cau&s;e of your retreat
<PB N="108" REF="60">
and Melancholly? I confe&s;s Sir, <HI>I</HI> was a hundred, and a hundred times ready to break my word which I had pa&s;t to <HI>Phi|loxypes;</HI> but &s;eeing the trouble he was in, end that in fine he could not re&s;olve to all the King the truth, I with held whil&s;t <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> an&s;wered, That what his Ma|je&s;tie did command, did not de&s;erve his curio&s;itie, and that he could not tell it him.</P>
<P>Being by this time late, we returned to <HI>Claria,</HI> where the King &s;poke &s;till after the &s;ame manner to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> as <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> did al&s;o to him. Having found a mo|ment of time to entertain <HI>Philoxypes</HI> alone, I would have per&s;waded him to have ac|quainted the King with the truth; but he could never re&s;olve to do &s;o, &s;aying it would be &s;ufficient to let him &s;ee he was not in love with <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> if he &s;hould never &s;ee her more.</P>
<P>This mean while, the more ob&s;tinacie, and grief the King found in <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> the more did he compa&s;&s;ionate him, and the more he laboured to overcome his own pa&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>And to this purpo&s;e he &s;tayed eight daies at <HI>Claria,</HI> all which time <HI>Philoxypes</HI>
<PB N="109" REF="60">
readie to go mad, as well in con&s;iderati|on of the Kings opinion, and more for that he could not get to &s;ee <HI>Polycryte.</HI></P>
<P>I do not think the King would &s;o &s;oon have left this retiredne&s;s, had he not been adverti&s;ed that an Amba&s;&s;ador from <HI>Ama|&s;is</HI> King of <HI>Egypt,</HI> was come to <HI>Paphos,</HI> which forc't him to return. But <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> do he what he could, mu&s;t needs go along with him: No &s;aid the King, <HI>I</HI> will not &s;ee <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> without &s;eeing you at the &s;ame time. The Melancholy which I &s;hall &s;ee in your eyes, mu&s;t be to me an antidote again&s;t the Charms which I &s;hall &s;ee in hers.</P>
<P>We went then to <HI>Paphos,</HI> but good gods how little delightfull was the Court then, and how much troubled did the Amba&s;&s;a|dor finde the King, who was three daies without &s;eeing <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> being in unimaginable pain for the above|&s;aid rea&s;ons, &s;eemed to grow &s;till more melancholy, whereat the King was &s;till more and more afflicted.</P>
<P>Ambitious <HI>Aretaphile</HI> was this mean while not without her perplexity, as well by rea&s;on of the Kings journey to <HI>Claria,</HI> as that he came not to vi&s;ite her; and for
<PB N="110" REF="61">
that &s;hee heard he was returned wonder|fully &s;ad.</P>
<P>But at la&s;t the King de&s;irous &s;til to con|firm him&s;elf in his belief, brought <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> with him to Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> hoping to di&s;cover his pa&s;&s;ion better there, then in any other place.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who thought there was no better means to undeceive the King, then in leting him &s;ee that he took no plea&s;ure in looking upon this Prince&s;s, was &s;til care|ful to look another way; but that which he did to dis-deceive the King, did the more deceive him: for &s;aid he to him&s;elf, unfor|tunate <HI>Philoxypes</HI> cannot indure the &s;ight of her whom he loves, and whom he will not love.</P>
<P>He accu&s;ed him&s;elf then of too much inhumanity, in expo&s;ing him to &s;o great a puni&s;hment, and &s;eeing how &s;trangely perplext he was, his vi&s;it was not long.</P>
<P>This mean while, he having during this vi&s;it eyed his pretended Rivall, as much as his mi&s;tre&s;s, and having been much di&s;quiet, the Prince&s;s was not much &s;atisfied with his conver&s;ation, and knew not whereunto to attribute the cau&s;e of the change which &s;he &s;aw in him.</P>
<P><PB N="111" REF="61">
At his coming forth he &s;aid a thou&s;and obliging things to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> and <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> made as many prote&s;tations to him of his being unconcerned in <HI>Aretaphile.</HI> But at la&s;t, that <HI>I</HI> may &s;horten my di&s;cour&s;e as much as I may; <HI>Philoxypes</HI> being per&s;ecu|ted by the Kings conceit, anger'd at <HI>Cle|anthes</HI> di&s;cour&s;e, much afflicted at what <HI>Policryte</HI> had &s;aid, and much more that he could &s;ee her no more, and that he dur&s;t not return to <HI>Claria,</HI> fell dangerou&s;ly &s;ick, all the Phy&s;itions gave up their opinions, that unle&s;s &s;ome cure were found for his Melancholy, he would infaliblie die. The feaver continued &s;even daies upon him very violently, during which time the King was greatly di&s;con&s;olate; and during which time I had tane a little jour|ney to <HI>Amathu&s;e,</HI> about &s;ome bu&s;ine&s;s that I had there, for I think if <HI>I</HI> had been at <HI>Pa|phos,</HI> I &s;hould have had much adoe to have kept <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his &s;ecret from the King.</P>
<P>As oft as the King came into his cham|ber, and &s;aw him in that pitifull conditi|on, he re&s;olved to think no longer on <HI>A|retaphile,</HI> but as &s;oon as he came from him, or that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> grew any thing better, this re&s;olution &s;lackned a little.</P>
<P><PB N="112" REF="62">
Nor was he yet re&s;olved what to do, but the feavor having at la&s;t left <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> and the Phy&s;itians continuing &s;till to af|firm that he would infallibly die, if the cau&s;e of his Melancholy whence his mala|dy proceeded were not taken away: the King &s;eemed to have put on a very &s;trong re&s;olution to pluck from out his &s;oul the pa&s;&s;ion which po&s;&s;e&s;t him.</P>
<P>He then re&s;olved to vi&s;ite <HI>Aretaphile</HI> no more, who not knowing what to think of this change in the King, thought it might be he was offended that &s;hee had not all this while been to &s;ee <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> whom he &s;o dearly loved, e&s;pecially &s;ince almo&s;t all the Ladies of the Court had been to vi&s;it him. For during his &s;ick|ne&s;s, the Prince&s;s of <HI>Salamis,</HI> and Prince&s;s <HI>Agari&s;ta</HI> had never left him, &s;o as the La|dies might with decency enough go thi|ther.</P>
<P>Yet &s;o it happened, that the day that <HI>A|retaphile</HI> came thither, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> being much better then he was, they were gone forth, &s;o as <HI>Aretaphile</HI> going accompanied with four or five of her women, found him all alone. Tis true &s;hee was not there long without company, for the King came
<PB N="113" REF="62">
thither pre&s;ently after. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> blu&s;ht when he &s;aw him come in, and &s;eemed &s;o amazed at this encounter, as if he had been really in love with <HI>Aretaphile;</HI> the King who ob&s;erved this his change of countenance, being much concernd to &s;ee that he &s;hould be the cau&s;e of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> danger: after a great &s;trife within him|&s;elf, drew near to Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> who out of her re&s;pect would have given him her place, which he would not ac|cept of: and after having looked upon her a while without &s;peaking, he &s;igh't, and &s;aid, Madam, will you not cure <HI>Philoxypes?</HI></P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid &s;he, if his health depend on me, your Maje&s;ty &s;hould &s;oon be ea&s;ed of the grief his &s;ickne&s;s cau&s;eth in you.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who found a great alterati|on in the Kings countenance, was afeard lea&s;t he might &s;ay &s;omewhat which might have made <HI>Aretaphile</HI> know his opinion of him; wherefore not affording the King lea&s;ure to reply,</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid he, though <HI>I</HI> believe Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile</HI> be able to do great things, and to charm great pains, yet <HI>I</HI> think I may &s;ay without offending her, that tho&s;e evills
<PB N="114" REF="63">
which I lie under, depend not on hers wil; &amp; that none but the Gods them &s;elve can withdraw me from the grave. <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> pronounced the&s;e words in &s;o &s;ad a manner, as endeavouring to overcome what&s;oever oppo&s;ed his de&s;ign of &s;aving <HI>Phyloxypes:</HI> drawing yet a little nearer to the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> for fear lea&s;t they that were in the chamber might over hear him.</P>
<P>Madam, &s;aid he, (making a &s;ign to <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> that he would not be interrup|ted) I &s;hall tell you a thing which will much &s;urpri&s;e you. <HI>I</HI> conjure you not|with&s;tanding to give it a favourable in|terpretation; and to oblige me &s;o far as to believe that upon better tearms then the &s;aving of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> life, <HI>I</HI> would not tell it you, no not though mine own life were concerned therein.</P>
<P>Oh! Sir, cried out this &s;ick Prince, if your Maje&s;ty end what you have begun to &s;ay, you will ha&s;ten my death in&s;tead of retarding it.</P>
<P>Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> amazed to hear what &s;he heard, and not able to gue&s;s what the matter &s;hould be, looked &s;ome|times upon the King, &s;ometimes upon
<PB N="115" REF="63">
<HI>Philoxypes;</HI> but at la&s;t the king compleating his determination, tis you, Madam, &s;aid he, to the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> who &s;end <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to his grave; your charms have been more powerfull then his rea&s;on, though his noblene&s;s hath been yet grea|ter then his love. He loves you divine <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> not daring to tell you &s;o; Hee will not &s;o much as acknowledg it, yet I know for certain, that unle&s;s you take compa&s;&s;ion on him, he will infallibly die.</P>
<P>I therefore &s;peak no more to you in my own behalf, &s;aid he, in a &s;trange Melan|choly manner, but deal le&s;s rigorou&s;ly with him, then you have done with me, &s;ince he de&s;erves it better: and if your Ambition be not to be &s;atisfied without a Sovereign power, I promi&s;e you divine Prince&s;s, that if I cannot place <HI>Philoxypes</HI> upon the Throne, he &s;hall alwaies be &s;o near it, as his place &s;hall hardly be di&s;cern|able from mine.</P>
<P>In fine &s;aid he, if <HI>Philoxypes</HI> die, I &s;hall die, and &s;o <HI>I</HI> &s;hall for ever lo&s;e you: but if you &s;ave <HI>Philoxypes, I</HI> may at lea&s;t hope to langui&s;h on a while, and to &s;hare part of your e&s;teem, not being able to pretend
<PB N="116" REF="64">
any longer to any part of your affection. Nor think not &s;aid he, That this which I do, is any mark of weakne&s;s in my affecti|on, &s;ince on the contrary it denotes the violence thereof.</P>
<P>For in fine, if I could re&s;olve to aban|don you, and to follow <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to the grave, <HI>I</HI> would not yeild up to him the part <HI>I</HI> pretend to have in your affection, though he be more worthy thereof then <HI>I;</HI> but not being able to &s;ee him die for my &s;ake, without expiring with grief, I mu&s;t live, that he may live, and con&s;e|quently mu&s;t endeavour for a while to prolong the &s;atisfaction I take in &s;eeing you.</P>
<P><HI>Aretaphile</HI> was &s;o a&s;toni&s;ht to hear the King &s;peak after this manner, and <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> &s;o afflicted, as a&s;toni&s;hment and &s;orrow producing the &s;ame effect in the&s;e two per&s;onages, they &s;taid a good while without &s;peaking.</P>
<P><HI>Aretaphile</HI> had opinion good enough of her beauty, to &s;uffer her &s;elfe ea&s;ily to be per&s;waded that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was in love with her, and &s;he had likewi&s;e opinion good enough of his Genero&s;itie, to believ he dur&s;t not di&s;cover his pa&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P><PB N="117" REF="64">
But as nothing that was not King could touch her heart, &s;he was &s;trangely per+plext to hear what &s;he heard, and &s;ome|times &s;he thought t'was peradventure but a pretext &s;ought by the King to break with her.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxipes</HI> on his &s;ide thinking that at the la&s;t he mu&s;t be fain to tell the King the truth, that he might di&s;abu&s;e him, was &s;o &s;trangely confu&s;ed, as he could not open his mouth: &s;o as the King &s;eeing them both &s;o &s;urprized, and finding that peradventure his love might quickly make him un&s;ay all that his friend&s;hip had made him affirm, ro&s;e up, and without expecting what <HI>Aretaphile</HI> would an&s;wer. Madam, &s;aid he, the pittifull condition which you &s;ee <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is in, per&s;wades you better then <HI>I</HI> can do, and he doubt|le&s;ly will pardon me, if I &s;peak not &s;o long to you for him as I have formerly done to you for my &s;elf: which &s;aid, he went his way, though <HI>Philoxypes</HI> de&s;ired him to tarry; a&s;&s;uring him that he would wholly di&s;abu&s;e him.</P>
<P>This mean while, though <HI>Aretaphile</HI> had a great minde to be gone too, yet be|ing imbitterd in minde, and de&s;irous to
<PB N="118" REF="65">
know a little more preci&s;ely, what the bu&s;ine&s;s of this &s;o &s;trange adventure would prove, &s;hee &s;taid a little after the King, and looking upon <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who appeared to her to be &s;o &s;truck mute, as if he had been in love with her: is it you <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;aid &s;hee, that have lo&s;t your rea&s;on, or is it the King? for <HI>I</HI> confe&s;s unto you I know not whether of the two it is, and that I cannot comprehend either of you.</P>
<P>I confe&s;s Madam, &s;aid <HI>Phyloxipes,</HI> that I am not ma&s;ter of my rea&s;on, but Madam, tis a maladie which you are no waies cau&s;e of, and whereof I accu&s;e you not: had you any de&s;ign then &s;aid &s;he, to make me lo&s;e the Kings good opinion? or is it that the King &s;eeks &s;ome bad pretext to bereave me of it? But if it be &s;o <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> there needs not &s;o far a fetch about the bu&s;h. You need but give me rea&s;on of the lea&s;t &s;u&s;pition, and I a&s;&s;ure you <HI>I</HI> &s;hall not long lament the lo&s;s of &s;o divi|ded a heart as his is. For til now the King did alwaies love his Crown better then Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> and by his this daies di&s;cour&s;e, he will make me believe that he loves you better then me.</P>
<P><PB N="119" REF="65">
Madam, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> I beg it as a fa|vour from you, not to blame the King up|on &s;o &s;mall rea&s;on; and not to blame in him the compa&s;&s;ion he is plea&s;ed to have of an evill, which he believes you to be the cau&s;e of.</P>
<P>engage my &s;elf Madam, to free him from the error of his opinion; for though your charms be without compare, the re|&s;pect which I have alwaies born to you, and that which <HI>I</HI> &s;hall alwaies bear to the King, have a&s;&s;uredly warranted me from almo&s;t an inevitable danger, for tho&s;e who have not had &s;o powerfull rea&s;ons to with&s;tand your beauty: therefore Ma|dam, do not di&s;quiet your &s;elf, and do me the honour as to promi&s;e me to pardon the Kings inju&s;tice, in de&s;iring that <HI>I</HI> &s;hould &s;hare with you in a heart where you ought onely to reign.</P>
<P>But Madam, the King had given me the place which I now enjoy, before he loved you; you ought not therefore be trou|bled thereat.</P>
<P>No, no, replied ambitious <HI>Aretephile,</HI> you will not ea&s;ily be able to ju&s;tifie the King: he is Generous, I confe&s;s, but he is but a bad lover, and who&s;oever can yeild
<PB N="120" REF="66">
up his intere&s;t in the party beloved, his love is certainly very indifferent.</P>
<P>This being &s;aid &s;hee bid him farewell, and left <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;o much grieved, as his maladie encrea&s;ed. Fearing then lea&s;t he might die, and leave the King in the o|pinion he was in, he &s;ent to de&s;ire him that he might &s;peak with him; and this was ju&s;t as I returned from <HI>Amethu&s;a.</HI> I happened to be by the King when he re|ceived this me&s;&s;age, who in&s;tantly went to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> but with &s;o much di&s;con|tent, as I pitied him: he had repented him&s;elf more then once of what he had &s;aid to <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> and not knowing whe|ther &s;he might not have &s;aid &s;omewhat of obliging to <HI>Philoxypes</HI> after he had left them together, he returned unto him much di&s;quieted.</P>
<P>When we came thither, he enquired whether the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile</HI> had tarri|ed there long after him or not, and being told not, he entered into <HI>Philoxypes</HI> cham|ber, who was glad to &s;ee me with the King.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid he, I &s;ee it is time that I con|fe&s;s my weakne&s;s to you, and that I di&s;a|bu&s;e you.</P>
<P><PB N="121" REF="66">
The King, who could not reconcile the&s;e two things, an&s;wered him onely with a &s;igh, and being &s;et down by his bed &s;ide, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> ask'd him pardon for the trouble he had put his Maje&s;ty to, and de&s;ired me to acquaint the King with what I knew of his adventure; de&s;iring him not to be offended that I had not told his Maje&s;ty the truth, &s;ince unle&s;s I &s;hould have drawn down the anger of Heaven upon me for perjury, I could not have revealed his &s;ecret, after the Oaths that he had made me take to the contrary I then began to acquaint the King with all that I knew touching <HI>Philoxypes</HI> love: but all I could &s;ay to him, appear'd to bee &s;o incredible, as it was a long time before he could beleeve it. At la&s;t he told <HI>Phi|loxypes,</HI> that unle&s;&s;e he &s;hould let him &s;ee <HI>Policrite,</HI> he would not beleeve what hee had heard.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> perceiving the Kings ob&s;ti|nacie, told him, that though he was very ill, he would be carried to <HI>Claria,</HI> in ca&s;e he were any thing better the next morn|ing, imagining he &s;hould &s;ooner recover his health being near <HI>Policrite,</HI> then if he &s;hould &s;tay at <HI>Paphos.</HI></P>
<P><PB N="122" REF="67">
All this while the King did not believe what I had told him; &s;ometime a man might &s;ee &s;ome &s;ign of rejoycing in him: ha! my dear <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> would he &s;ay, is it po&s;&s;ible that you were not my Rival, and that I was deceived: if it be &s;o, I think I &s;hall adore that <HI>Policrite</HI> you &s;peak of, in&s;tead of blaming the love you bear her; &s;ince thereby I &s;hall not be inforced to yeild up what I hold dearer then my life, and that my confident will not prove my rival.</P>
<P>But ob&s;erve &s;ir, the extraordinary ef|fects of love. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was very &s;ick when he &s;ent to de&s;ire the King to come unto him: but when once he had any thought of returning to <HI>Claria,</HI> hee grew better: hee &s;lept all the next night qui|etly enough, and the next day was carried in a Litter to <HI>Claria,</HI> whither the King went to lie that night.</P>
<P>The next day <HI>Philoxipes</HI> left his bed, and the following day, notwith&s;tanding all his weakne&s;s, he got on hor&s;eback together with the King, waited on but by very few: and came to the foot of the moun|tains where they were to light. Being there, the King followed by none but <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI>
<PB N="123" REF="67">
and my &s;elf, went towards <HI>Clean|the</HI>'s Cottage, which as &s;oon as we di&s;co|vered, <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who had need enough how&s;oever to re&s;t, &s;taid a while, and &s;hewing it to the King, Sir, &s;aid hee, &s;trangely confu&s;ed, &s;ee the place which made me forgo <HI>Paphos:</HI> &s;ee the inch of all the earth, that likes me be&s;t, and where you go to &s;ee one, who peradventure will rather make you <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his Rival, then <HI>Philoxipes</HI> &s;hall prove yours.</P>
<P>He &s;poke this with a &s;mile, by which it vi&s;ibly appeard, that the hope of re&s;eeing <HI>Policrite</HI> had brought joy into his heart: yet did he fear di&s;plea&s;ing her, and to an|ger <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> by bringing the King thi|ther: but there being no remedy, he re|&s;olved to do it, neither did this fear ju&s;tle out his joy.</P>
<P>When the King had &s;ufficiently con&s;i|dered the greatne&s;s of Philoxypes his af|fection, in re&s;pect of the meanne&s;s of <HI>Policrites</HI> Cottage; and that he had not|with&s;tanding acknowledged that there was &s;omewhat of wilde in that de&s;ert, which was not di&s;plea&s;ing: we went on, and came at la&s;t to that little Pali&s;adoe of of Lawrels, wherewith <HI>Cleanthes</HI> his
<PB N="122" REF="68">
<GAP DESC="duplicate" EXTENT="1 page">
<PB N="123" REF="68">
<GAP DESC="duplicate" EXTENT="1 page">
<PB N="124" REF="69">
Court was inclo&s;ed. We entered there|into, and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;tepping before the king, went to the hou&s;e, where he found the dore &s;hut: he knock'd, but no body an&s;wered, which made him at fir&s;t be|lieve, that <HI>Cleanthes</HI> his whole family was gone to the Temple, where hee once &s;aw <HI>Policrite.</HI></P>
<P>Yet &s;ince there might be &s;ome body there who might not hear, he knock'd a|gain, and knock'd &s;o hard, that a young &s;lave who &s;erved <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> came and o|pened the door, who very well knowing <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> told him, after that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had ask'd him where his ma&s;ter was, that he could not tell him what he de&s;ired to know; and that all that he knew was, that <HI>Cleanthes, Megi&s;to, Polycrite,</HI> and <HI>Dori|da,</HI> were gone from thence, and were not to return thither any more: that they had carried along with them the women, which they had brought from their own Countrey; and that his Ma&s;ter had com|manded him to wait his further directi|ons there, not knowing wherefore he was gone, nor why he left him there.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;urpriz'd and afflicted at this Di&s;cour&s;e, was a good while without
<PB N="125" REF="69">
&s;peaking; The King thought at fir&s;t that there was &s;ome trick in it, and that <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> had made me &s;ay what I had &s;aid, only to abu&s;e him; but at la&s;t this young Slave being &s;tept into the Hou&s;e, and re|turning pre&s;ently; Sir, &s;aid he to <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> when <HI>Policrite</HI> was ready to depart from hence, &s;he drew me a&s;ide, un&s;een by any one, and gave me this which I give to you, ordaining me &s;o to doe if you &s;hould come hither. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> taking immedi|ately what the Slave pre&s;ented him with, opened the Letter, whil&s;t the King did me the honour to &s;peak with me, and read the&s;e en&s;uing words:</P>
<LETTER LANG="eng">
<HEAD>Policrite <HI>to</HI> Philoxypes.</HEAD>
<P>I Know not Sir, whither it is that<HI>Policrite</HI> is convey'd, but I very well know that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is the cau&s;e of her exile: not being perad|venture, likely ever to have the Ho|nour to &s;ee him. I thought I might
<PB N="126" REF="70">
without blame, let him know my minde by this Letter, which <HI>I</HI> refu&s;ed to acquaint him withall, the la&s;t time which I &s;poke with him. He may then be plea&s;ed to know, that at fir&s;t not e&s;teeming my &s;elf worthy of his af|fection, by rea&s;on of my birth, I with-held mine from him as much as I was able; but that having learnt &s;ince, that I am not of the condition I appeared to be, and that there have been Kings of my Race: I confe&s;s I was gladded that I could not reproach <HI>Philoxipes</HI> for having an inclinati|on too di&s;proportionable for his degree: and that I thought it became me to let him know what I am, to the end he may not think he doth any thing un|worthy of him&s;elf, if he &s;ometimes think upon <HI>Policrite,</HI> who wil alwais with much contentment think upon his
<PB N="127" REF="70">
worth, whether his fortune be to lead his life in a Cottage or in a Palace.</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>POLYCRITE.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</LETTER>
<P>PHILOXYPES, as &s;oon as he had read this Letter, came to the King, and pre&s;enting it unto him; Sir, &s;aid he, your Maje&s;ty may read in this Letter my inno|cency, and my misfortune. The King be|gan then to read aloud what <HI>Policrite</HI> had written; but good God in what pain was the unfortunate <HI>Philoxypes</HI> that he could not interrupt him; but as &s;oon as he had read it out, looking upon him with a fixt and grieved eye; how &s;ay you now? Sir, &s;aid he, am I yet in love with Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> or am I not the mo&s;t unfortu|nate man in the world? the King, imbra|cing him, asked him pardon for his &s;u&s;pi|tions, and of the trouble he had given him; but my dear <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;aid he, I &s;hall be &s;ufficiently puni&s;hed for it, as well in re&s;pect of your &s;orrow, which &s;hal al|waies be mine; as for <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> who will not ea&s;ily forgive me, yet &s;aid he, you
<PB N="128" REF="71">
have wherein to rejoyce, &s;ince you learn two things at once of great importance, and of great con&s;olation. For now you know that <HI>Policrite</HI> loves you, and that &s;he is of Princely de&s;cent: Could you have asked more of the Gods, if you had been to have had your wi&s;hes granted you?</P>
<P>Ah! Sir, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> that which you alleadge to comfort me, is the greate&s;t part of my misfortune: For tis true, I finde that <HI>Policryte</HI> does not hate me, and that &s;hee is of birth equall with my &s;elf, but at the &s;ame time this lovely and cruel per&s;onage tells me, &s;hee &s;hall never &s;ee me more, and that &s;hee knows not whi|ther &s;hee is carried.</P>
<P>Oh! Sir, I &s;hould be more to blame were I in love with Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> but I &s;hould be le&s;s mi&s;erable: I &s;hould have rea&s;ons to gain&s;ay my pa&s;&s;ion; but here I &s;ee nothing which doth not forti|fie and augment it.</P>
<P>In fine after <HI>Phyloxypes</HI> had &s;ufficiently bemoned him&s;elf, he left the King, and went to ask a hundred things of the young &s;lave, without being able to learn any thing, either of <HI>Policrites</HI> birth, nor
<PB N="129" REF="71">
whither <HI>Cleanthes</HI> &amp; <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> were gone; all he could learn was only that twas above a fortnight &s;ince they were gon: nothing el&s; could be gotten out of this young Slave, neither by prayers, promi&s;es, nor threats, who&s;e fidelitie <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> for all his rage, could not chu&s;e but approve of: but not being able to learn any more, he waited back upon the King to <HI>Claria.</HI></P>
<P>For my part <HI>I</HI> was never more at my wits end; for the king was &s;o &s;ad, as well for his own occa&s;ion, as for tho&s;e of PHI|LOXIPES, as he could not re&s;olve to &s;ay any thing, neither by way of bemo|ning him&s;elf, nor yet of comforting PHILOXIPES, whom he &s;o dearly lo|ved.</P>
<P>PHILOXYPES on his part was more perplex'd: he was &s;orry to forgo that Cottage though his beloved was no lon|ger there; he &s;ometimes looked back up|on it, &s;ometimes he looked upon <HI>Poli|crites</HI> Letter, which the king had given him back.</P>
<P>He would &s;omtimes lift up his eies to hea|ven, then again fix them on the earth, and walking &s;ometimes without &s;peaking, &s;ometimes fetching deep &s;ighs, he &s;eem|ed
<PB N="130" REF="72">
not to know whether the king were there or no, or whether he were a|lone, &s;o deep was his melancholy. At la&s;t we came to <HI>Glaria,</HI> but good Gods how &s;ad was the conver&s;ation the re&s;t of that day.</P>
<P>At la&s;t &s;aid the king to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> you have this advantage, to know that <HI>Poli|cryte</HI> is much obliged to you, that &s;he hath nothing to reproach you withall, that you have not offended her, and that where&s;o|ever &s;he is, if &s;he think of you, tis onely to bewail your ab&s;ence: where on the con|trary, I have incen'&s;t <HI>Aretaohile,</HI> who&s;e a&s;piring &s;oul does doubtle&s;ly accu&s;e me of want of affection, and who will take it ve|ry ill, that I preferd your life before my love to her.</P>
<P>But Sir, &s;aid the afflicted <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> you know where the Prince&s;s <HI>Aratephile</HI> is, you may make your rea&s;ons known to her, you may ask her pardon for that fault, which an exce&s;s of Genero&s;ity made you commit: you may &s;it and &s;igh by her, and may appea&s;e her anger. But for my part Sir, &s;hould I complain, &s;hould I &s;igh, &s;hould <HI>I</HI> pour forth torrents of tears a|mid&s;t the&s;e Rocks, would all this re&s;tore
<PB N="131" REF="72">
to me my <HI>Policryte?</HI> &s;hould I thereby learn where &s;hee lives? It may be <HI>Clean|thes</HI> is put to &s;ea, and it may be I &s;hall ne|ver know, neither who <HI>Policryte</HI> is, nor where &s;hee is.</P>
<P>Ah! Sir, &s;aid this di&s;con&s;olate Prince, if you knew the cruelty of my adventure, you would ea&s;ily know that I am the mo&s;t unfortunate man in the world: for if I loved one that did hate me, de&s;pight might cure me: if <HI>I</HI> loved one that were incon&s;tant, the &s;corn I &s;hould have of her weakne&s;s, might con&s;olate me: if <HI>I</HI> were jealous, a part of my melancholy would pa&s;s away in &s;eeking how I might preju|dice my Rivals: were <HI>Policrytes</HI> ab&s;ence bounded, the hope of her return, how long &s;o e're it were, would allay my di&s;|contents Nay, vvere any per&s;on vvhom I &s;hould love, dead, I think my &s;ufferings vvould not be &s;o great as they are. For in fine, my mallady is &s;uch, as doth &s;tupi|fie rea&s;on, and makes the &s;oul almo&s;t in|&s;en&s;ible.</P>
<P>In this manner did the king and PHI|LOXYPES entertain them&s;elves. I en|deavoured to comfort them both, but to tell you truth, my rea&s;ons vvere not li&s;t|ned
<PB N="132" REF="73">
unto; as for <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> he knew not what remedy to &s;eek for; for having learn'd by the &s;lave who gave him <HI>Poli|crite</HI>'s letter, that twas a good while &s;ince &s;hee went away, he could not dream of following her, nor knew he where to &s;eek after her.</P>
<P>All he could do, was to give order to his people to watch night and day about the Cottage, with directions to &s;tay any who &s;hould come thither, that they might learn by them what this too faithfull Slave would not di&s;cover; and to follow him wher&s;oever he &s;hould go, believing probably that <HI>Cleanthes</HI> had not left him a|lone in that hou&s;e, without &s;ome &s;ecret rea&s;on, and without having a de&s;ign to return; or at lea&s;t to &s;end &s;omebody thi|ther on his behalf, or that the Slave him|&s;elf &s;hould return to him.</P>
<P>As for the King it fared not thus with him: he knew that it was at <HI>Aretephiles</HI> feet that he was to &s;eek for pardon: he would not, notwith&s;tanding make his dear <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> returne &s;o &s;oon to <HI>Paphos,</HI> but &s;taid the next day at <HI>Claria.</HI></P>
<P>But though there was no hope of find|ing <HI>Policrite, Philoxypes</HI> de&s;ired the King
<PB N="133" REF="73">
that he would be plea&s;ed to &s;end to all the ports of the I&s;land, to know whether <HI>Cleanthes</HI> had tane &s;hipping in any of them or no, it being ea&s;ie to be known, by rea|&s;on of the many women that were in his company, which would make him re|markable. The King promi&s;ed him to do what he de&s;ired, but conjured him al&s;o not to refu&s;e to go with him to <HI>Paphos,</HI> to a&s;&s;i&s;t him in getting <HI>Aretaphiles</HI> pardon. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> appeared vi&s;ibly di&s;plea&s;ed to be forced to return to the Court, but be|ing &s;o much obliged to the King, and the king being upon ill tearms with his Mi|&s;tre&s;s, onely out of his Love to him, he thought it became him to go, as he did. When we were come to <HI>Paphos,</HI> the King went that very night to Prince&s;s <HI>Areta|philes</HI> lodgings, and found her onely ac|companied with her women. She recei|ved him with all the civility that was due to his condition, but al&s;o with as much coolne&s;s as could be expected from an in|cen&s;ed party.</P>
<P>Seeing <HI>Philoxypes</HI> with the king, Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, with a malicious &s;mile, did not I tell you <HI>Philoxypes</HI> would recover with|out my medling with him. Madam, &s;aid
<PB N="134" REF="74">
he, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> is much wor&s;e then I belie|ved him to be; but thanks to Heaven, I will not lay his death to your charge, &s;ince you are not the cau&s;e of his di&s;quiet. May it plea&s;e the Gods that you put not <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> in a condition of reproaching you with my death!</P>
<P>No, no, Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, your life is in no danger, as long as <HI>Philoxypes</HI> lives, your Maje&s;ty needs fear nothing. Alas Madam, cry'd the king, deal not &s;o hardly with me! Alas, Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, go not about I be&s;eech you to per&s;wade me to things &s;o directly oppo&s;ite one to another, in &s;o &s;hort a time; it is not above four or five days &s;ince you did me the honour to tell me at <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his lodging, that you would no more &s;ue to me for your &s;elf; that my affection was a thing wherein you did no longer de&s;ire a part; and if I remember well, you did al&s;o intreat me not to deal &s;o rigourou&s;ly with <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> as <HI>I</HI> had done with you. And it may be, &s;aid &s;hee, (expre&s;&s;ing an extremity of Malice) that yeelding much to your in|treaties upon that occa&s;ion, I &s;hould have granted what you have demanded for <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> had my friend&s;hip been nece&s;|&s;ary
<PB N="135" REF="74">
to &s;afe his life; but &s;ince God be thanked, he needs it not, he may be plea&s;ed to content him&s;elfe with my e|&s;teem; and your Maje&s;ty may likewi&s;e be &s;atisfied with my re&s;pect, which is all I can, or ought to give you. For in fine to make me believe that you love me, after being able to permit that another &s;hould love me, and you your &s;elfe wi&s;h me to love him, is a thing not ea&s;ie to be under&s;tood, nor yet ea&s;ily disje&s;t|ed: beleive me, Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, to love ones rival, better then ones Mi&s;tre&s;&s;e, is a thing whereof there are not many ex|amples, and which may allow me to let tho&s;e know, who &s;hall be acquainted with the bu&s;ine&s;s, that tis an excellent way to make a faithful &s;ervant, &amp; a very bad invention to make a Prince&s;s love him, who treats her after that maner. Shal the compa&s;&s;ion <HI>I</HI> had of <HI>Philoxipes,</HI> Ma|dam, replyd the king, de&s;troy me for e|ver in your good opinion? me, I &s;ay, who underwent an unexpre&s;&s;able tor|ment, before I could re&s;olve to pitty him? me, who did not yeild you up, &s;ave onely becau&s;e <HI>I</HI> could not abandon you, and who found that PHILOXYPE'S
<PB N="136" REF="75">
death did ha&s;ten mine? If you could have loved <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> an&s;werd the prin|ce&s;s, more then Philoxypes, you would have lamented his misfortune and yours; you would have endeavoured to have cu+red him by ab&s;ence, or by a thou&s;and otherwaies; you would have bewaild his death when it &s;hould have happened, and would yet have been comforted, by the &s;ole &s;ight of <HI>Aretaphile:</HI> but becau&s;e you love PHILOXYPES better then you love <HI>Aretapile,</HI> you re&s;olve without much difficulty to lo&s;e her. Yet Sir, you could yeild up to PHILOXYPES no more then that part which you held in her, which was not peradventure &s;o great as you be|lieve.</P>
<P>Ah! inhumane prince&s;&s;e &s;aid the king, make me not di&s;pair, and know that when I made a &s;urrender of you to <HI>Phi|loxypes, I</HI> was re&s;olved to die. It may be Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, If I had &s;o much weakne&s;&s;s as to lend a favourable ear to what you now &s;ay, that upon the fir&s;t occa&s;ion that &s;hould pre&s;ent it &s;elf,; and upon the fir&s;t &s;u&s;picion you &s;hould have that any one &s;hould bear me never &s;o little good will, you would again conjure me to be
<PB N="137" REF="75">
his cure. No, no, Sir, &s;aid &s;hee, with a yet more &s;erious face, you never lo|ved me, nor do you know what it is to love: Love is &s;omewhat above rea&s;on, or genero&s;ity, which hath rea&s;ons of its own: a man may give his own life for his friend, but as for the Mi&s;tre&s;s whom he loveth, it would be more ju&s;t, and more u&s;uall, to quit all his friends for her intere&s;t, then to yeild her up to any one friend. In fine &s;aid &s;hee, you may per|chance have thought you could have li|ved without me; for had you dream't you mu&s;t have dyed, me thinks you might as well have dyed without yeilding up <HI>Aretaphile</HI> to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> as after ha|ving &s;urrendered her to him. But Sir, &s;ince you have rather cho&s;en to &s;pecifie an extraordinary mark of Genero&s;ity, then to give the commone&s;t proofe of love, I have no more to &s;ay; neither have I more to do, but to pre&s;erve my heart as free as it hath allwaies been. The king &s;eeing he could not appea&s;e this haughty &s;pirit, call'd <HI>Philoxypes</HI> in into his aid; come &s;aid he, come make amends for the fault which you have innocently com|mitted; and if you will pre&s;erve my life,
<PB N="138" REF="76">
as I would have done yours, be a mean of replacing me in the condition wherein I was before I had compa&s;&s;ion of you. Ma|dam, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> addre&s;&s;ing his &s;peech to the Prince&s;s, if you judge of the Kings love to you, by his Friend&s;hip to me, what may you not expect from thence; &s;ince to &s;ave my life, he could for &s;ome few moments onely renounce the po&s;&s;e&s;|&s;ion of &s;o ine&s;timable a jewel. And will you not then believe, That upon the lea&s;t occa&s;ion which &s;hould pre&s;ent it &s;elf, he would for your &s;ervice &s;acrifice, not one|ly <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> but even all his &s;ubjects, nay, even his own life? No Sir, &s;aid &s;he, you are not &s;o much bound to the King, as you imagine, and in&s;tead of your de|&s;iring me to judge of his love to me, by the friend&s;hip he bears to you, I &s;hall ad|vi&s;e you to judge of his friend&s;hip to you, onely by his love to me; and to believe, that &s;ince he was able to yeild me up, he never had &s;o re&s;olute a pa&s;&s;ion for <HI>Are|taphile,</HI> as to de&s;erve that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;hould be much beholden to him, for what hee hath done for him, &s;ince he would have done the like for any other. But cruell prince&s;s, &s;aid the King, what will you
<PB N="139" REF="76">
have me to do? me thinks &s;aid &s;he, <HI>I</HI> &s;hould demand no unju&s;t thing of you, if <HI>I</HI> &s;hould humbly intreat you to think no longer on <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> and quietly to enjoy the life of <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> which hath co&s;t you &s;o little.</P>
<P>Ah, &s;aid he, if I &s;hould have purcha|&s;ed the life of <HI>Philoxipes,</HI> at the lo&s;&s;e of your affection, I &s;hould have bought it more deare, then if I &s;hould have given my Crown for it. Confe&s;s the truth, &s;aid this malicious Prince&s;s, if <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had been as &s;ick of Ambition, as you did think him love &s;ick, he would not for cer|tain be yet cured, and you would not &s;o &s;oon have forgon your Scepter, as you did <HI>Aretaphile. Phyloxipes,</HI> who ea&s;ilie conceived the hidden &s;en&s;e of the&s;e words, whereunto the King replyed not, &s;o was he over born with grief, &s;aid, Ma|dam, if the King &s;hall confe&s;s unto you that he hath done ami&s;s, and &s;hall ask your pardon for it, will you be more in|exorable, then are the Gods, and will you &s;hew no mercy? when the King &s;aid &s;hee, &s;hall have done to cure me of any malady of minde, if any &s;uch &s;hall befall me, &s;o extraordinary a thing, as that
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which he hath done for you, <HI>I</HI> &s;hall then &s;ee of what minde I &s;hall be. In fine, Sir, All that the King and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> could do or &s;ay, did no waies avail with this impe|rious Prince&s;s.</P>
<P>When they were come from her, and were returned to the Palace; <HI>Philoxypes</HI> who was well acquainted with <HI>Aretaphiles</HI> humour, told the King, he knew a way how to work his reconcilement with her: Alas, &s;aid the King, there are few things I would not do to purcha&s;e that content: &s;peak therefore, my dear <HI>Phyloxypes:</HI> mu&s;t I be long in pain? mu&s;t I &s;igh abundant|ly, and pour forth abundance of tears? and mu&s;t I be everla&s;tingly pro&s;trate at her feet? No Sir, &s;aid he, you &s;hall onely put the Crown upon her head. But re|plied the King, I would gladly not have owed <HI>Aretephiles</HI> love to her Ambition; on the contrarie, I would have had the Crown of <HI>Cyprus</HI> to have been a reward of her affection to me.</P>
<P>Five or &s;ix daies being thus pa&s;t over, and <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> not being able to tarry any longer at the Court, he de&s;ired leave of the King to return to CLARIA. Tho&s;e who the King had &s;ent to the Port towns
<PB N="141" REF="77">
vvhich vvere neere&s;t to <HI>Paphos,</HI> returned at the &s;ame time, but brought no news of <HI>Policrite;</HI> &s;o as the unfortunate <HI>Philo|xypes</HI> returned to his &s;olitarine&s;s in great de&s;pair.</P>
<P>He had yet engaged the King not to di&s;cover the cau&s;e of his melancholy; nor vvere there any that knew it, but he, the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> and my &s;elf; nor did the Prince&s;&s;e know any more, then that <HI>Philoxypes</HI> vvas faln in love vvi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 chunk"> one that he knew not.</P>
<P>It would be very hard to relate unto you what life he led; when it was fair weather, he went to vi&s;it <HI>Policrite's</HI> Cot|tage, and all the places where he had &s;een her, or &s;poken with her; he went to ask more que&s;tions of the &s;lave who was there, and whom they had ever had an eye unto, not finding any one that &s;poke with him, nor that he &s;poke with any one. But all the addre&s;&s;es this Prince could make, could not prevail again&s;t the fidelity of this &s;lave, who de&s;erved a better condition.</P>
<P>When <HI>Philoxypes</HI> could not walk a|broad, he walked in his Gallery, gazing on the picture of his dear <HI>Policrite.</HI> When
<PB N="141" REF="78">
he call'd to mind how contented a life he led before he fell in love, he almo&s;t wi&s;h|ed he had never &s;een <HI>Policrite;</HI> but when he remembred her charming beauty, her bewitching mind, and the happy howres which he had enjoied in her company, though &s;hee had alwaies concealed the e&s;teem &s;he had for him; he preferr'd all the &s;orrows he had &s;uffered &s;ince he was in love, before all his former plea&s;ures.</P>
<P>Oh! would he &s;ometimes &s;ay to him|&s;elf, when he &s;hould read <HI>Polycrite</HI>'s let|ter; how &s;weet, how plea&s;ing, and how cruel things have I learnt in one day? <HI>Policrite</HI> is of illu&s;trious birth, <HI>Policrite</HI> will alwaies remember me, and <HI>Policrite</HI> will never more &s;ee me. Alas, if it be &s;o, &s;aid he, why have I not recour&s;e to death, and what &s;hall I do with &s;o un|fortunate a life? Then &s;uddenly remem|bring that <HI>Policrite</HI> was alive, and that &s;he did not hate him, he conceived a beam of hope, that peradventure &s;hee might make enquirie after him, and knowing how mi&s;erable a life he led, &s;he might at la&s;t re&s;olve to let him know in what part &s;he lived.</P>
<P>This thought afforded him only &s;o
<PB N="142" REF="78">
much hope as to keep him from dying; not &s;o much as to comfort him in his misfortunes. Living then in this manner all the re&s;t of the Winter, he went &s;ome|times to &s;ee the King, when the King could not come to him; and de&s;pairing of all remedie, he only expected death, or news of <HI>Policrite:</HI> the one or the other, whereof were the object of all his thoughts, &amp; the bounds of all his de&s;ires. The Spring it &s;elf, which &s;eems to in&s;pire joy into whole nature, wrought no alte|ration in him. He beheld the ro&s;es in his Gardens blu&s;h, with the &s;ame melancho|lie as hee had &s;een his knots white with Snow in Winter. Tho&s;e who watched over <HI>Cleanthes</HI> his &s;lave, brought him word one morning, that he was &s;udden|ly dead. This anger &s;ome news did re|double his grief, in as much as for that he &s;eemed concerned in any thing which belonged to <HI>Policrite;</HI> and that this &s;lave appeared to him worthy of &s;uch good fortune, as that in lo&s;ing him, hee lo&s;t almo&s;t all hopes of ever di&s;covering where <HI>Policrite</HI> was. He forbare not notwith&s;tanding, to have watch kept for a while, to &s;ee whether any bodie
<PB N="144" REF="79">
&s;hould come to that rural Cottage, or no: but at la&s;t, wearie of wearying out his people, he di&s;penced with their further trouble therein; and abandoned his for|tune ab&s;olutely to the guidance of the gods.</P>
<P>As he was one daie in this &s;ad mood, <HI>Solon</HI> came to <HI>Claria:</HI> hee was at fir&s;t much joied to hear a name he &s;o dearlie loved; but con&s;idering what an alterati|on there was in him, &s;ince he had &s;een him, and how confounded he &s;hould bee to acknowledge his weakne&s;s to him, though he knew that lawful love was not a pa&s;&s;ion to which <HI>Solon</HI> had declared him&s;elf an enemy, this joy &s;uffered a little allay. He went notwith&s;tanding with much eagerne&s;s to meet him; but &s;adne&s;s having &s;o deeply &s;ei&s;ed upon his heart and eyes, the &s;atisfaction which he received to &s;ee the famous <HI>Solon,</HI> was &s;o inward, as there hardly appeared any &s;ign thereof in his countenance. <HI>Solon</HI> no &s;ooner &s;aw him, but he ob&s;erved his me|lancholy; and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> on his part, loo|king on <HI>Solon,</HI> in &s;tead of the peacefull phy&s;iognomy, and that chearful and plea&s;ing a&s;pect which he had wont to
<PB N="145" REF="79">
have in his eyes, he &s;eemed to &s;ee a great deal of &s;orrow.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t complements being over, and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> having brought <HI>Solon</HI> to his chamber; Sir, &s;aid he, the &s;ight of you would &s;urely much rejoyce me, did I not &s;ee &s;ome &s;igns of &s;orrow in you, of which I mu&s;t needs reque&s;t to know the cau&s;e. Noble Prince, reply'd <HI>Solon,</HI> I &s;hould have prevented you, and have de&s;ired to know the cau&s;e of your melancholy, be|fore having afforded you lea&s;ure to in|form your &s;elf of mine. But I confe&s;&s;e unto you, the Law-giver of <HI>Athens,</HI> is not at pre&s;ent in a condition of pre&s;cribing Laws unto him&s;elf; and that the &s;orrow I feel, is &s;tronger then my rea&s;on. <HI>Philoxy|pes,</HI> embracing him then &s;traitly, conjured him to tell him the rea&s;on thereof, and de&s;ired him to believe he would do all that laie in his power to comfort him.</P>
<P>But Sir, &s;aid he, <HI>I</HI> thought that Philo|&s;ophie had been a &s;alve to you again&s;t all the misfortunes of life; and that &s;orrow was a thing unknown to <HI>Solon,</HI> to whom whole <HI>Greece</HI> gives the name of wi&s;e.</P>
<P>Philo&s;ophie &s;aid this famous Athenian, is a vain-glorious art, which boa&s;ts of go|verning
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in places, wherein &s;he hath no great power; &s;he may doubtle&s;ly &s;aid he, teach men to bee vertuous, make them know whole nature, teach them how to di&s;cour&s;e, and give them Laws and Pre|cepts for the government of Kingdoms, and Common-wealths; Nay, &s;he may oft times make us overcome our pa&s;&s;ions; but when an equitable feeling, which na|ture gives us, is to be overcome, believe me <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> the &s;ame Philo&s;ophy which hath &s;ometimes made us lo&s;e Crownes without change of countenance, or which hath made us not &s;tick to refu&s;e them, is weak in le&s;&s;e eminent occa&s;ions. And in my particular, I may &s;ay I have beene thrice in my life time abandoned by her; though peradventure I have been a&s;&s;i&s;t|ed by her upon an hundred difficult oc|ca&s;ions. But yet &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> &s;hall I not know vvhat 'tis that afflicts you? It very well behoves that I tell it you, &s;aid <HI>Solon,</HI> &s;ince 'tis from you alone that I can expect any help. I will not repeat unto you, &s;aid he, the &s;o many particulars of my fortune which formerly I have ac|quainted you withal, for I believe you have not forgot them; but that you may
<PB N="147" REF="81">
perfectly know the cau&s;e of my grief, I mu&s;t how&s;oever take the ri&s;e of my di&s;|cour&s;e afar off; and tell you &s;ome cir|cum&s;tances of my life, which you have not yet known. You know I never be|lieved that marriage was incompetible with Philo&s;ophy and true Wi&s;dome, as <HI>Thales</HI> that famous Mile&s;ian did imagine; you know likewi&s;e that I married a per|&s;onage of great worth and under&s;tand|ing, by whom I had children, who died &s;oon after they were born; one onely &s;on excepted, whom I have bred up care|fully, intending to make him worthie of that noble bloud whence he is de&s;cended. He was about 14 or 15 years old, when I vvas at <HI>Milet,</HI> about &s;ome affairs of mine; where I vi&s;ited wi&s;e <HI>Thales,</HI> who was one of my very good friends. He civily re|proacht me with my weakne&s;s, and &s;aid <HI>I</HI> did &s;ufficiently witne&s;s my indulgencie to love, by a little image of <HI>Cupid,</HI> which <HI>I</HI> one day con&s;ecrated to that Deitie, and placed in the park belonging to the Aca|demie, there vvhere they who run vvith the &s;acred Torch, are wont to a&s;&s;emble them&s;elves. Pa&s;&s;ing from one thing to another, we &s;pake of the happine&s;s, and
<PB N="148" REF="82">
of the misfortunes of marriage, and thus our di&s;cour&s;e varying, as it oft fals out from our fir&s;t &s;ubject, wee &s;poke of news and other &s;uch like matters.</P>
<P>Pre&s;ently after, <HI>Thales</HI> feigning to have &s;ome order to give to one of his folk about his own affairs, ro&s;e to &s;peak to him in his ear, and came and took his place again. Not long after, I might &s;ee a &s;tranger come, whom I knew not, vvho told him he was come from <HI>Ath<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">ns,</HI> not above ten daies ago. Pre&s;t by the natu|ral de&s;ire of curio&s;itie, to know whe|ther there was nothing of new befaln in my Countrey, &s;ince my departure thence, I askt him whether he knew any thing of con&s;iderable there or no? No, &s;aid he, &s;ave onely that the day I came away on, I &s;aw the Funeral ob&s;erved of a young youth of the be&s;t rank, vvhereat all the people of note in the Town, vvere pre|&s;ent, and vvere very &s;en&s;ible of the &s;or|row this childs death vvould cau&s;e in his Father, vvho vvas not then at <HI>Athens.</HI> I confe&s;s when I heard him &s;peak thus, my colour changed, fearing my &s;on might be concerned: vvhich made mee ask him whether he knew not the name of
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that unfortunate Father? I have forgot it, &s;aid he, but I know hee is a man of great integritie, and who is much e&s;tee|med of in that place.</P>
<P>I confe&s;&s;e, Sir, that &s;ince Philo&s;ophy teacheth &s;inceritie, as well as mode&s;tie, I thought <HI>I</HI> might be the man &s;poken of; was willing to know the truth, with|out offence to good manners; his name, doubtle&s;ly, &s;aid I, was not <HI>Solon:</HI> pardon me, &s;aid he, his name came ju&s;t to my memory, as you pronounced it. To what end &s;erves it to deny it? I could not heare &s;o &s;ad news vvithout &s;orrow, and that &s;o great as <HI>Thales</HI> pitied me, and je&s;ting at my weakne&s;s, asked me whe|ther it were advantageous for a wi&s;e man to marry, or no? Putting him&s;elf there|by in a condition to have &s;tudied Philo|&s;ophie for others, not being able to make u&s;e thereof him&s;elf. After this, he told mee there was not one word true of all that this man had &s;aid; that he had not &s;o much as been at <HI>Athens</HI> of a long time; and that he had &s;aid all this by his directi|ons, which he had cau&s;ed to be given him, when he ro&s;e from me to &s;peak in the ear with one of his &s;ervants.</P>
<P><PB N="150" REF="83">
At my return to <HI>Athens,</HI> I found my &s;on alive indeed, but I found the whole Town in confu&s;ion, by rea&s;on of &s;ome di&s;order that had happened between tho&s;e that were de&s;cended from <HI>Megacles,</HI> and tho&s;e that were come of them that had been of the Citonien con&s;piracie. The Megarians &s;urpri&s;ed the port of <HI>Ni|&s;a,</HI> and re took the I&s;le of <HI>Salamina,</HI> w<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 chunk"> had cau&s;ed me &s;o much trouble. And to add to the misfortune, all the people were &s;ei&s;ed on with a &s;uper&s;titious &s;nare, vvhich per&s;waded them that &s;pirits retur|ned; that fanto&s;mes and apparitions ap|peared; and this imagination prevailed &s;o much with mo&s;t of them, as there was an univer&s;al humiliation.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e who had the charge of the &s;a|cred things, &s;aid, that they found infal|lible &s;ignes by the Victims, that the town needed purification, and that the gods were incen&s;ed by rea&s;on of &s;ome &s;ecret offence committed.</P>
<P>To this effect, by the advice of the wi&s;e&s;t &s;ort, they &s;ent an Expre&s;&s;e to <HI>Cre|ta,</HI> to <HI>Epimenides</HI> the Phae&s;tien, who was and doubtle&s;lie is &s;till, an incomparable man, a man who&s;e life is altogether pure,
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innocent, and holy: who eats no more then what is &s;ufficient to maintain life, and who&s;e &s;oul leans as little to the &s;en|&s;es, as in this life it can: who is very lear|ned in the knowledge of heavenly things; and who pa&s;&s;es in his Countrey, not onely for one who hath &s;ometimes Divine Revelations, but is by the people of <HI>Crete</HI> believed to be the &s;onne of a Nymph, called, <HI>Balta.</HI> However it be &s;ir, he is a man of extraordinary knowledge, and virtue.</P>
<P><HI>Epimenides,</HI> not refu&s;ing the intreaties that were made unto him, came to <HI>Athens,</HI> and of &s;o many famous men as were in that noted Citie, did me the favour to chu&s;e me for his mo&s;t intimate friend, ha|ving through his wi&s;dome, and through the peoples belief in him, di&s;&s;ipated all their fal&s;e imaginations, and that by pray|ers, Sacrifices, and Ceremonies, he had rid them of all their fears, he would yet &s;tay a while at <HI>Athens</HI> for my &s;ake; where certainly he told Prodigious predictions to a hundred &s;everall people. As we were &s;peaking one day of humane weak|ne&s;&s;es, and how little a man ought to rely upon his own &s;trength, nor yet upon Phi|lo&s;ophie;
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I acquainted him with what had befallen me with <HI>Thales</HI> the <HI>Mile&s;ian,</HI> and how much a&s;hamed <HI>I</HI> was, not to be ma&s;ter of my fir&s;t opinions. <HI>Solon</HI> (&s;aid he to me) is ea&s;ie to be overcome on that &s;ide, and as oft as fortune will make u&s;e of the affections of nature again&s;t him, &s;he will certainly overcome him: For he hath a &s;oul as tender upon &s;uch eneoun|ters, as &s;trong again&s;t ambition: But <HI>So|lon,</HI> &s;aid he, you are to be bewailed if you do not re&s;olve to believe me; and be|lieve that what you underwent while&s;t you were with your friend <HI>Thales,</HI> is little in compari&s;on of what you &s;hall one day &s;uffer in the per&s;on of a Daughter, of whom your wife is at this pre&s;ent with Child.</P>
<P>I have, &s;aid he, ob&s;erved your birth, and your life, and I finde that this childe, which will be &s;oon born, will be a prodigie for beauty and virtue; and will al&s;o be one of the happie&s;t women in the world, if you will believe my councel: but al&s;o if you will not believe, and fol|low it, &s;hee will be mo&s;t unfortunate. In fine, &s;aidhe, If you do not what I &s;hal &s;ay unto you, you &s;hall have the di&s;con|tent
<PB N="153" REF="84">
to &s;ee that your Daughters beauty will make your Countrie de&s;olate; and that after having refu&s;ed the &s;overeign power (as you will one day refu&s;e it) &s;he will make one of your Citizens fall in Love with her, who will become the Ty|rant of the Common wealth, which will make her re&s;olve to die, rather then to marry him.</P>
<P>I confe&s;e I was much troubled to hear <HI>Epimenides</HI> &s;peak after this manner; for I had heard him foretel divers things, which I had &s;een punctually fall out ac|cording to his predictions. <HI>I</HI> then de&s;ired him to tell me what he would have me do, to pre&s;erve a man who did &s;acrifice his whole life to the glory of <HI>Athens,</HI> from having a daughter who &s;hould cau&s;e love in him that would be the Tyrant thereof. He told me then, That &s;ince it was not yet known in <HI>Athens</HI> that my wife was with Childe, I &s;hould conceal her great belly; &s;end her into the countrey, &amp; when &s;hee &s;hould be brought to bed, that I &s;hould cau&s;e this daughter to be &s;ecretly brought up, not &s;uffering her to know who&s;e childe &s;hee was, nor yet any other body who&s;oever, except tho&s;e who were
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to have the care of her education, that if it &s;hould &s;o fall out, as I &s;hould be forced to for&s;ake my Countrey, I mu&s;t during my exile, leave her in &s;ome I&s;land upon the <HI>Egean</HI> Sea; and that things being thus carried, &s;he &s;hould be infallibly happie, and I &s;hould not need to fear that &s;hee &s;hould be beloved by the Tyrant of <HI>A|thens.</HI> In fine, Sir, to &s;horten my di&s;cour&s;e, I obeyed <HI>Epimenides</HI> his his advi&s;e; I &s;ent my wife into the Countrey, where when her time was come, &s;hee was brought to bed of a Daughter: wondering at the accompli&s;hment of the beginning of this prediction, I continued to follow <HI>Epemi|nedes</HI> his directions, who at his departure (after having refu&s;ed all the pre&s;ents that were made him, and taking for his re|ward, onely a branch of the Sacred O|live) told me that my daughter would one day cau&s;e as much joy in me by her virtue, and good fortune, as &s;hee would cau&s;e &s;orrow in me by rea&s;on of her lo&s;s. The&s;e ob&s;cure words continued fix'd in my memory, &s;o as I put my daughter in|to the hands of a Si&s;ter of mine whom I loved very well, who was married in <HI>Co|rinth,</HI> and was come to &s;ee me: tru&s;ting
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onely her, and her husband, with the &s;e|cret which <HI>Epeminedes</HI> had acquainted me withall.</P>
<P>I will not &s;tay to tell you, that &s;oon after <HI>I</HI> lo&s;t my wife, for which I was very much grieved; neither will I entertain you with the di&s;orders of <HI>Athens,</HI> which are too well known to all men; nor yet with the relation how I was &s;olicited to accept of the &s;overeign power, being put in mind that there had been Kings of my Race, and that one that was de&s;cended from the illu&s;trious <HI>Chodrus,</HI> need make no &s;cruple to accept the Scepter: nor vvith vvhat &s;tedfa&s;tne&s;s I rejected tho&s;e vvho made &s;o unju&s;t a propo&s;ition to me, fol|lovving <HI>Epeminedes</HI> his predictions. Nei|ther vvill I tell you vvhat Lavvs I there e&s;tabli&s;hed, you knovv them, and knovv hovv they vvere ob&s;erved; nor yet the re&s;olution vvhich I took to quit my Countrey, for the &s;pace of ten years; to the end that I might make no further alterations, and leave the people lea&s;ure to accu&s;tom them&s;elves to their new Lawes.</P>
<P>But I will tell you, that being readie
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to take my voluntarie bani&s;hment from <HI>Greece,</HI> and not forgetting what <HI>Epemine|des</HI> had told me, I came to <HI>Corinth,</HI> un|known: and having told my &s;i&s;ter that I was obliged to leave my Daughter in an I&s;land during the time of my exile: This vertuous per&s;onage, who loved her no le&s;s then a Daughter, which &s;he had of her own, had married a Gentleman of ex|traordinary worth, and who had long li|ved a retired live, &s;o as as &s;hee ea&s;ilie pre|vailed with him, not to abandon my Daughter, who really appeard to me, to be the &s;weete&s;t childe I ever &s;aw. I con|&s;ulted the Gods touching my de&s;ign, who confirmed me therein. Thus I took this little Familie along with me in my &s;hip; and being de&s;irous that the place of exile for the&s;e whom <HI>I</HI> &s;o dearly loved, might be a plea&s;ant place, I cho&s;e this I&s;le to leave them in.</P>
<P>While&s;t <HI>Solon</HI> di&s;covered thus at large, <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who longed to interrupt him, could no longer forbear: did you, Sir, &s;aid he, leave a Daughter in this I&s;land? Yes, &s;aid <HI>Solon,</HI> with a &s;igh, and I &s;aw her here about four years ago, when I would be &s;een by none but by you: and Sir, if
<PB N="157" REF="86">
I may be allowed to &s;ay &s;o, I &s;aw her &s;uch a one as <HI>Epeminedes</HI> had de&s;iphered her, to wit hand&s;om, ful of wit &amp; vertue.</P>
<P>When I fir&s;t left tho&s;e, to who&s;e gui|dance <HI>I</HI> committed her, I willed them to &s;aie they were of the I&s;land of <HI>Crete:</HI> At this word, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> changed colour, re|membring that it was of thence that <HI>Cle|anthes</HI> &s;aid him&s;elf to be. But Sir, &s;aid he, how vvas this daughter called, that the Gods gave you? <HI>Polycrite</HI> replied, <HI>Solon. Policrite,</HI> &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> is <HI>Policrite,</HI> Sir, then your daughter? <HI>Solon</HI> &s;urpri&s;ed at <HI>Philoxypes</HI> que&s;tion, changed colour al&s;o, and feared le&s;t this Prince might have known &s;omewhat of <HI>Policrite,</HI> which might di&s;plea&s;e him more then the un|certainty he was in of her life or place of abode.</P>
<P>How Sir, &s;aid he, came you to know my daughter, whom to &s;aie truth, I left near enough to you, but whom <HI>I</HI> had al|&s;o left in a place, vvhere I thought not you &s;hould have met with her; and that when you &s;hould have met with her, you &s;hould not have known her to be vvhat &s;he is? It vvas the Gods, replied <HI>Philo|xypes,</HI> who brought me to the knowledg
<PB N="158" REF="87">
of her; and 'tis the Gods likewi&s;e, &s;aid he, vvho have taken her from her Cot|tage, doubtle&s;ly to puni&s;h me for not preci&s;ely knowing the daughter of that famous <HI>Solon.</HI> At la&s;t, hee de&s;ired this Law-giver to go into his Gallery, which vvas painted &s;ince his la&s;t being at <HI>Claria;</HI> and &s;hewing him the &s;everal pictures of <HI>Policrite,</HI> under the figure of <HI>Venus Urania;</HI> behold, Sir, &s;aid he, the Godde&s;&s;e vvhich made me know <HI>Policrite. Solon</HI> &s;urpri&s;ed with the &s;ight, looked on <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &amp; not comprehending how he could come by tho&s;e pictures, without <HI>Policrites</HI> con&s;ent; Sir, &s;aid he, <HI>Epimenides</HI> a&s;&s;ured me that <HI>Policrite,</HI> &s;hould be vertuous; but the&s;e pictures make me believe, that being bred up among&s;t the Rocks, &s;he may have become too indulgent. Ah, Sir, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes!</HI> how farre is <HI>Policrite</HI> from what you &s;peak of? but &s;hall I dare to ac|quaint you with my boldne&s;s? and &s;hall <HI>I</HI> dare to enquire of you, before <HI>I</HI> acquaint you vvith my misfortune, and yours, wherefore you left her in that place? <HI>So|lon,</HI> who knew <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI>'s in|tegrity, who knew likewi&s;e how vertu|ous <HI>Policrite</HI> was, condemned his fir&s;t &s;u|&s;pitions,
<PB N="159" REF="87">
and ha&s;ted to tell him how when he fir&s;t arrived in our I&s;land, hee made <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and his Family come on &s;hore as pa&s;&s;engers which he knew not, that afterwards he placed them near the &s;ea, &s;ide, but that being afterwards at <HI>Claria,</HI> and whil'&s;t he a&s;&s;i&s;ted him in the building of that town to which he would give his name, being walk'd abrode all alone, he had ob&s;erved that little de&s;ert place, where he placed <HI>Policrite,</HI> having given <HI>Cleanthes</HI> where withall to build that little Cottage, and where withall to &s;ub&s;i&s;t commodiou&s;lie during the time of his ex|ile. That pa&s;&s;ing from <HI>Africa,</HI> into <HI>A&s;ia,</HI> to go to <HI>Cre&s;&s;us</HI> his Court, he would fir&s;t come once again to <HI>Cyprus,</HI> that he might &s;ee his dear <HI>Policrite.</HI> That he had been a whole month in that Cottage, <HI>Policrite</HI> not having all that while either known his name, nor that he was her Father; and that afterwards he came to vi&s;it him at <HI>Claria;</HI> that he confe&s;t he had in that jour|ney di&s;covered &s;trange lights in the young maids under&s;tanding, which obli|ged him to be very &s;en&s;ible of her lo&s;s: For &s;aid he, <HI>I</HI> can finde no bodie now in that Cottage, and cannot learn, neither
<PB N="160" REF="88">
why tho&s;e that did inhabit there have left it, nor how long it is &s;ince they went from thence, nor vvhat vvay they are gone.</P>
<P>But you Sir, &s;aid he, be plea&s;ed I be|&s;eech you to let me hear all what&s;oever you knovv of my daughter, and conceal nothing from me; for I confe&s;s I &s;tand upon thornes. <HI>Philoxypes</HI> having ob&s;er|ved that <HI>Solon</HI> was really very impatient to know how he came to knovv <HI>Policrite,</HI> and hovv he had got &s;o many Pictures of hers, told him the vvhole truth; he made him call to mind his former inflexibility, and hovv he had told him long &s;ince that a man might once in his life be overcome by love vvithout any &s;hame. Then he told him vvhat glorious and gallant com|pany he had had at his hou&s;e; hovv mi|raculou&s;ly this <HI>Venus</HI> vvas e&s;teemed by them all: the conte&s;tation vvhich he had vvith them thereupon; hovv aftervvards he met vvith <HI>Policrite,</HI> at the head of the River <HI>Claria;</HI> hovv &s;urprized he vvas to &s;ee that the Pourtrait of his <HI>Venus,</HI> &s;hould be the picture of this unknovvn maid; hovv much he vvas troubled that he could not finde her again; hovv happily
<PB N="161" REF="88">
he met <HI>Cleanthes</HI> as he vvas going vvith his Family to the Temple: hovv he &s;avv her the third time vvhen he found her in the Temple; hovv at la&s;t he di&s;covered her Cottage, and his &s;undry thoughts thereupon: he acquainted him vvith the fir&s;t vi&s;it he made to <HI>Policrite,</HI> vvhen he found her making Garlands of Flow|ers; vvhat &s;peech he had vvith <HI>Cleanthes,</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to;</HI> and in fine, hovv violently he vvas taken vvith her. He told him al|&s;o, hovv he had endeavoured to &s;uppre&s;s his pa&s;&s;ion, by rea&s;on of the &s;uppo&s;ed meanne&s;s of her birth: vvhat an altera|tion this pa&s;&s;ion had vvrought in his minde: hovv the Court vvas &s;tartled at his Melancholy; the Kings odd conceipt thereupon, his di&s;cour&s;e vvith the King, and with the Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile:</HI> hovv angry this Prince&s;s vvas, and hovv much he him&s;elf was perplext: hovv it came to pa&s;s that <HI>Mandroclus</HI> had dravvn <HI>Policrite</HI>'s Pictures; and in fine, he told him all that had befallen him: and vvhen he had ended his recitall, not affording <HI>Solon</HI> lei&s;ure to &s;peak, thus you &s;ee, Sir, &s;aid he, I am no longer that Inflexible <HI>Philoxypes</HI> vvhich you formerly knevv
<PB N="162" REF="89">
me to be, but I may &s;afely prote&s;t unto you, that I loved <HI>Policrite</HI> in a Cottage, with the &s;ame re&s;pect as if &s;hee had been &s;eated on a Throne: and I may al&s;o a&s;|&s;ure you, that my pa&s;&s;ion for her was as pure, as if I had known &s;hee had been your daughter.</P>
<P>Do not blame me then, I conjure you, &s;ince I have onely adored <HI>Solons</HI> virtue and worth in <HI>Policrite</HI>'s per&s;on; for tis her virtuous minde which I am more en|amor'd of, then of her per&s;onal beauty; yet do I de&s;erve to be puni&s;h'd, for doubtle&s;ly my frequent vi&s;its have cau|&s;ed <HI>Cleanthes</HI> to change his abode. Hee knew not <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> and Imagined he might have abu&s;ed him in <HI>Policrite:</HI> But to prove, &s;aid he, that I lived re&s;pect|fully with her, and that I never received a favourable word from her, &s;ee (&s;aid he, Sir, &s;hewing him the letter which hee had received) the innocent and cruell &s;ign of acknowledgement, that this Di|vine Per&s;onage hath given me, &s;ince that at the &s;ame time when &s;hee &s;aies &s;he will remember me, &s;hee &s;aies al&s;o &s;he &s;hall ne|ver &s;ee me more: yet Sir, &s;aid he, if my pa&s;&s;ion do di&s;plea&s;e you, you &s;hall &s;ee
<PB N="163" REF="89">
how ready I will be to die, as &s;oon as you &s;hall have given me the lea&s;t occa&s;ion &s;o to do; &s;ince that is the only way whereby <HI>I</HI> can pluck her from out my heart: but on the contrary, if you do truly love me, you will rather bewail me, then accu&s;e me; you will promi&s;e me not to oppo&s;e me, if the Gods re&s;tore <HI>Policrite</HI> to you: and you will &s;uffer her to be Mi&s;tre&s;s of that &s;tately town which was built by your di|rections.</P>
<P>I wi&s;h, Sir, I were able to offer her &s;un|dry Scepters; but <HI>I</HI> think not that he who refu&s;eth them, will &s;tick much to be&s;tow his daughter on a Prince, who thinks him&s;elf happie in being but near a Throne, and to a&s;&s;i&s;t his King to &s;u&s;tain the weight of his Scepter.</P>
<P>When <HI>Philoxypes</HI> had made an end of &s;peaking, and <HI>Solon</HI> had read <HI>Policrite</HI>'s letter; my Daughter &s;aid he, is yet wi&s;er then I thought her to have been: and &s;ince &s;he hath been able to re&s;i&s;t the charms of <HI>Philoxype</HI>'s greatne&s;s and worth J finde <HI>Epimenides</HI> had rea&s;on to &s;peak of her, as of a miracle.</P>
<P>Be you then a&s;&s;ured, &s;aid he, Sir, That if the Gods re&s;tore my Daughter to me,
<PB N="164" REF="90">
I &s;hall bring no other ob&s;tacle to your de|&s;ignes, then my humble de&s;ire that you will &s;eriou&s;ly con&s;ider whether &s;hee be worthy or no of the honour you would do her: for if you continue in your re|&s;olution, and that I &s;hall know that &s;hee doth indeed de&s;erve a part of the favours which you vouch&s;afe her, I &s;hall be ready to command her to look on you, as on him whom the gods have cho&s;en to make her happy and glorious.</P>
<P>I do not tell you <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> that the fa|mous <HI>Exce&s;tides,</HI> my Father, who left me poor onely out of his own Magnificen|cie, was de&s;cended from the illu&s;trious bloud of King <HI>Chodrus;</HI> for the&s;e are not things which I think men ought much to boa&s;t of: But I will a&s;&s;ure you, that all tho&s;e of my Hou&s;e, &s;ince they have left the Crown, have been as good Citizens, as their Forefathers were good Kings; and that for my particular, I had alwaies ra|ther oppo&s;e my &s;elf to Tyrannie, then be a Tyrant.</P>
<P>In fine, &s;aid he, as it is not to your great|ne&s;s that I give <HI>Policrite, I</HI> pretend al&s;o, that <HI>Policrite</HI>'s virtue, &s;hall &s;upplie the place of a Crown.</P>
<P><PB N="165" REF="90">
But alas, &s;aid <HI>Philoxypes!</HI> how will you give me this Divine <HI>Policrite,</HI> if we know not where &s;hee is? She mu&s;t be begg'd of the Gods, replied <HI>Solon,</HI> &s;ince tis from them alone that we are to expect all the good that can befall us.</P>
<P>In fine; &s;ir, <HI>Philoxypes</HI> conceived an un|expre&s;&s;able joy, to finde <HI>Solon</HI> &s;o favour|ably di&s;po&s;ed towards him. But al&s;o his grief was no le&s;s extream, to think that <HI>Solons</HI> good intentions would prove of no u&s;e, if <HI>Policrite</HI> were not found. Yet was he &s;omewhat comforted with the &s;ight of &s;o famous a man, and the conver&s;ation of one &s;o perfectly wi&s;e, made his &s;orrow appear at lea&s;t more moderate, though really it was alwaies very great. Nay, <HI>I</HI> re|member he told me that notwith&s;tanding all his &s;adne&s;s, he forgot not you, &s;ir, but entertained <HI>Solon</HI> with the di&s;cour&s;e of you, as of a very extraordinarie Per&s;o|nage.</P>
<P>This mean while the King, having heard of <HI>Solons</HI> arrivall, and how that <HI>Poli|crite</HI> was his daughter, was exceeding glad, and would have him and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to come to Court; &s;o as this Prince his love was no longer &s;o great a &s;ecret.</P>
<P><PB N="166" REF="91">
Imagining that <HI>Cleanthes</HI> was not gone out of the I&s;land, command was &s;ent a|gain to all the Towns and Vilages, to give an account of what &s;trangers lived in them, but do what they could, they could learn no acceptable news.</P>
<P>This mean while the Court grew very melancholy; for Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphile,</HI> not able to put on a re&s;olution of pardoning the King, the King by an odd phan&s;ie of Love, re&s;olved al&s;o to winne this Prin|ce&s;s her heart, before he would a&s;&s;ure her to make her his Queen.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> on his part was mad to think he could not finde out <HI>Policrite,</HI> and that he had been the cau&s;e why <HI>Solon</HI> had lo&s;t her: and <HI>Solon</HI> was al&s;o very &s;ad that hee could hear no newes of his daughter; e|&s;pecially at a time when he vvas of nece&s;|&s;itie to return to <HI>Athens,</HI> where he had learned that there was great di&s;orders, and that all things tended towards Sediti|on.</P>
<P>He knevv that there vvere three &s;eve|rall Factions there: that one <HI>Licurgus</HI> vvas chief of tho&s;e that inhabited the plains; that <HI>Megacles,</HI> &s;onne to <HI>Alcmeon,</HI> commanded over tho&s;e of the &s;ea coa&s;t,
<PB N="167" REF="91">
and that <HI>Pi&s;i&s;trates,</HI> whom certainly you knew when you went to <HI>Athens,</HI> was chief of the mountaineers. So as though all that numerous people had punctually ob&s;erved his Laws, &s;ince his departure, yet the face of affairs was likely &s;oon to alter.</P>
<P><HI>Solon</HI> being then nece&s;&s;itated to be gone within a few daies, told <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> That the intere&s;t of a mans country, was to be preferd before all things el&s;e: and that he who cho&s;e rather to conceal his daughter, then to expo&s;e her to the love of a Tyrant, would not abandon his Countrey, to expect in vain to hear of one whom certainly the Gods would pre&s;erve if &s;he were worthy of their care; &s;o as he had no more to do, then give him full leave to marry her if he &s;hould finde her; <HI>Philoxypes</HI> being at that &s;ame time both much afflicted, and much joyed; thankt <HI>Solon</HI> for the honour he did him; but the winde not &s;erving for his depar|ture, and his &s;hip not being ready, he mu&s;t have patience for a while. During this interval of time, <HI>Solon</HI> under&s;tood that there was a famous Temple about &s;ome forty miles from <HI>Paphos,</HI> dedicated as
<PB N="168" REF="92">
were almo&s;t all the re&s;t in the I&s;land, to <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> where 'twas &s;aid this God|de&s;s delighted more to be honour'd, then in any other Temple: becau&s;e the cu|&s;tom there was, that all the Ceremonies were performed by maids of good di&s;|cent, who dedicated them&s;elves to the &s;ervice of that Godde&s;s, and who were to &s;erve her three years in her Temple before they were to marry.</P>
<P><HI>Solon</HI> who believed he could not im|ploy the time better, which much again&s;t his will, he was to &s;tay in <HI>Cyprus,</HI> then in praying to the Gods, moved <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to go thither, who ea&s;ily gave way thereun|to: &s;o as getting on hor&s;eback the next morning and attended but by a few &s;er|vants, they came to this Temple, which is very delightfully &s;eated.</P>
<P>I know Sir, I &s;hould not &s;tay to ac|quaint you with all the Ceremonies of the &s;acrifice, which upon this occa&s;ion was offered for <HI>Solon,</HI> and <HI>Philoxypes;</HI> yet it being famous among&s;t us for what en|&s;ued thereupon, I will crave leave to do it; as al&s;o becau&s;e peradventure, you have not &s;een the like: For tis a &s;acrifice which doth not co&s;t the victims lives, but
<PB N="169" REF="92">
on the contrary, makes them recover their liberty.</P>
<P>This Temple is fairly enough built: the Altar is &s;tately, at the foot whereof, and ju&s;t in the mid'&s;t, is placed a great candle|&s;tick of Gold with twelve branches, whereon Chri&s;tal Lamps hung which was all lighted in&s;tantly after. Fifty maids, clothed in &s;ilver Tiffany, mingled with blew to denote the original of that hea|venly <HI>Venus</HI> whom they &s;erved, having each of them a Coronet of flowers on their head, and &s;prigs of Myrrh in their hands, rank'd them&s;elves on the two &s;ides of the Temple, &s;he onely excepted who was to perform the Ceremony, who &s;taid in the middle.</P>
<P>At the foot of this golden Candle&s;tick, there was a great Che&s;t or Coffer of the &s;ame metal, wherein there was fire which they termed &s;acred, becau&s;e it is onely lighted by the agitation of certain &s;tones con&s;ecrated to the Godde&s;s: &s;he who offered the &s;acrifice in the name of <HI>Solon,</HI> and <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> put Amber, Frankin&s;ence, Benjamin, and divers other perfumes, in|to this Pile of wood: This being done, and having made a little Pile of the dry
<PB N="170" REF="93">
boughs of Myrh upon the Altar, &s;he took a Torch made of perfumed wax, where|with &s;he &s;et it on fire, and with the &s;ame Torch &s;he lighted fifty others which were placed in &s;undry parts of the Tem|ple: after this, one of the&s;e maids brought two Turtles tied together with threads of gold and blew &s;ilk; and be|fore her who carried the Birds, went four other maids &s;inging a Hymn after the <HI>Ly|dian</HI> manner: after the&s;e came four o|thers, bringing with them two Swans ty|ed together with a &s;tring of blew and gold, and followed by four more who &s;ung as did the former.</P>
<P>The&s;e maids who carryed the Victims, kneeled down before the Altar, which being done, &s;he who did the Ceremony, (to the end that &s;he might not irritate <HI>Ve|nus Anadiomena,</HI> who had been formerly wor&s;hipped in that Temple, by the ho|nour that was done to <HI>Venus Urania)</HI> took Ro&s;es and Cockles, which &s;he &s;trowd upon the Altar, and taking a great &s;hel of the Mother of pearl full of &s;ea water, ta|ken up towards the ea&s;t, &s;he &s;prinkled the Victims therewith.</P>
<P>The holy knife, adorned with
<PB N="171" REF="93">
Orientall Agget, was likewi&s;e prepared, as it were to &s;acrifice them; but the maids who &s;ung continually forbad them in the behalf of <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> &s;o as &s;hee who carried the Turtles, and the other who carried the Swans, drawing near her who performed the Ceremonie, &s;he un|tied them, and opening one of the win|dows of the Temple, at the &s;ame time when they threw new perfumes into the pile of wood, they were lo&s;t in that cloud of perfume which aro&s;e, and flying to|wards heaven, &s;eemed as if they went to carry up the vows of <HI>Solon</HI> and <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> to the Godde&s;s to whom they were offe|red up.</P>
<P>After this, all the maids which were in the Temple, began a Canticle of joy and one of them taking a little Fagot of Myrh, which was bound about with threads of Gold, &s;wept together the a&s;h|es of the little pile, to &s;ee whether all were quite con&s;umed or no; for this is one of the tokens that the Sacrifice hath been well received.</P>
<P>In pur&s;uit after this, they went to vi&s;it the &s;acred garden, wherein the Turtles
<PB N="172" REF="94">
and Swans, de&s;tined to the &s;ervice of the Godde&s;s, are bred up, to &s;ee whe|ther tho&s;e that were offerd up unto her, were returned thither or no: for when this falls not out, tis an infallible ob&s;er|vation that the &s;acrifice hath not been well accepted of, and that the Godde&s;s thinks not tho&s;e birds pure enough to be pre&s;ented unto her another time. But as for <HI>Solon</HI> his Sacrifice, it had all the marks of a happy Sacrifice; the Pile was total|ly con&s;umed, the perfumes mounted &s;treight upright toward the Temples Roof, the birds flew Ea&s;t-ward, and were found in the &s;acred Garden. In fine, the&s;e maids a&s;&s;ured <HI>Philoxypes</HI> and <HI>Solon,</HI> that their vows were well accepted of by the Godde&s;s; and that they had not of a long time offerd any Sacrifice, which had been &s;o well accepted of.</P>
<P>Having then returned acknowledge|ments to the Divine <HI>Urania,</HI> the&s;e two re|turned to <HI>Paphos: Solon</HI> did &s;o plea&s;antly entertain <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> and &s;aid &s;uch fine things to him, as not taking heed, he mi&s;t the way by which they came. Tho&s;e who followed them, thought that <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who very well knew that way, intended
<PB N="173" REF="94">
to go &s;om whither that they knew not of, &s;o as they let him go on. Continuing to ride on thus by this by-way, they &s;trayed not onely from the way they were to go, but came at la&s;t to a place where there was no beaten track at all: finding them|&s;elves at the Sea &s;ide, among&s;t wilde, and almo&s;t inacce&s;&s;ible Rocks, the &s;ight here|of recall'd into <HI>Philoxypes</HI> memory the de|&s;art wherein he had found <HI>Policrites</HI> a|bode.</P>
<P>But at the &s;ame time he found that he had lo&s;t his way; and that he knew not where he was: yet it appearing delight|full enough unto him, though &s;andy e|nough, he &s;aid to <HI>Solon,</HI> that continuing to go along the &s;ea &s;ide, they &s;hould meet with &s;ome path which would lead them back into the right way; wherefore they did not return back, but continued on their way; and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> rode formo&s;t, that he might be a guide to tho&s;e that he had led out of the way.</P>
<P>Being advanced a good way, he might &s;ee five or &s;ix fi&s;hers Cottages, built upon the &s;ea &s;ide, and heard the voice of cer|tain women who &s;eemed to bewail &s;ome misfortune.</P>
<P><PB N="174" REF="95">
He then mended his pace, not know|ing why the voice of tho&s;e women had had &s;uch an operation in him: and being come near them, he knew <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> and <HI>Dorida,</HI> and found them &s;orely weeping, and accompanied vvith many other vvo|men, vvho vvept as vvell as they, and vvho not minding him, looked all to|vvards the &s;ea.</P>
<P>He then looked the &s;ame vvay they did, vvhere, alas! he might &s;ee <HI>Policrite,</HI> all alone in a little boat floating, vvithout either Oars or Rudder; vvho not knovv|ing vvhat to do, vvas upon her knees praying to Heaven; for though the &s;ea vvent not very high, yet vvas it &s;ome|vvhat moved; and moreover, the Rocks bearing back the Waves on that &s;ide, and a breath of air blovving from land, the boat vvent &s;till further off.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;eeing <HI>Polycrite</HI> in &s;o great a danger, and not &s;eeing any boat that he might make u&s;e of, lighted &s;uddenly off Hor&s;eback, and threvv him&s;elf into the Water, &s;vvimming &s;treight tovvards <HI>Po|licrite.</HI></P>
<P>So as vvhen <HI>Solon,</HI> vvho vvas a little behind, vvas come to the &s;ea &s;hore, you
<PB N="175" REF="95">
may ea&s;ily imagine hovv much he vvas &s;urprized to &s;ee <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> covered vvith tears, <HI>Policrite</HI> all alone in a boat, vvhich the Waves bore tovvards the full &s;ea, and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> &s;vvimming tovvards <HI>Policrite;</HI> but he vvas &s;o far from her, as it vvas to be believed that (the boat floating &s;till forward) his &s;trength might fail him be|fore he could get up to her; and that <HI>So|lon</HI> might &s;ee his dear daughter peri&s;h in his &s;ight, as al&s;o a Prince whom he loved no le&s;s then her.</P>
<P>To tell you al&s;o how &s;trangely a&s;to|ni&s;h'd <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> was, to &s;ee <HI>Philoxypes</HI> throw him&s;elf into the &s;ea, and pre&s;ently after to &s;ee <HI>Solon</HI> come, is not a thing ea&s;ily done. Nor yet to &s;et forth <HI>Policrites</HI> thoughts, vvhen &s;he knevv <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> and &s;avv him in &s;o great danger for her &s;ake.</P>
<P>This gallant per&s;onage told us not|vvith&s;tanding aftervvards, that &s;he no &s;ooner knevv him, but the object of her vovvs altered; and that cea&s;ing to think on her ovvn danger, all her prayers vvere poured forth for <HI>Philoxypes.</HI> This mean vvhile <HI>Solon</HI> vvas upon the &s;hore vvith <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> vvho&s;e minde vvas not
<PB N="176" REF="96">
then at liberty enough to tell him how this misfortune hapned, telling him one|ly that <HI>Policrite</HI> was lo&s;t.</P>
<P>And to &s;ay truth, I think that upon this encounter, <HI>Solons</HI> wi&s;dom was put to a greater tryal, then ever it had been: and that it was much more ea&s;ie for him to refu&s;e a Crown, then to &s;ee <HI>Policrite</HI> and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> in the danger they were in, without giving apparent tokens of di|&s;pair.</P>
<P>Yet this famous man kept him&s;elf with|in the lawful bounds of &s;orrow; and not doing any thing unworthy of him&s;elf, did notwith&s;tanding, feel what ever pains a tender and generous &s;oul could &s;uffer under.</P>
<P>This mean while though <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was but lightly clad, for the &s;pring was already very hot in our I&s;land, he could not &s;wim with that facility as he might have done, had he been naked; &s;o as <HI>Po|licrites</HI> boat driving &s;till away, he could not get up unto it.</P>
<P>One might &s;ee this young maid u&s;e &s;ome bootle&s;s endeavors to &s;tay this lit|tle boat, but twas impo&s;&s;ible for her to do it: nay, &s;he did things which &s;he her
<PB N="177" REF="96">
&s;elf knew were of no avail, yet could not keep from doing them.</P>
<P>One might likewi&s;e ob&s;erve <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to &s;trive to his utmo&s;t, &amp; then he &s;eemed to be ready to peri&s;h through wearine&s;s. But at la&s;t being got near the boat, &s;ome|times one might &s;ee the boat driven near unto him by one Wave, and &s;ometimes born from him by another; for it went too and fro with the wind.</P>
<P>It was &s;o near him as he might hear <HI>Po|licrites</HI> voice, not being able to an&s;wer her, &s;o much was he out of breath with &s;wimming.</P>
<P>Sir, &s;aid &s;he, Let me peri&s;h; do you re|turn to the &s;hore: and &s;trive not boot|le&s;ly to &s;ave me.</P>
<P>You may imagine whether &s;o obliging a command did not oblige <HI>Philoxypes</HI> to redouble his forces. At la&s;t, Sir, after that <HI>Solon</HI> had &s;een the Waves ri&s;e up more then once, ready to over-turn the boat, and &s;wallow up <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> who was now able to do no more, a great Wave having driven the boat towards him, he luckily laid hold of the rope whereby it was fa&s;tened formerly to the Sea bank.</P>
<P>You may imagine, Sir, what <HI>Philoxypes</HI>
<PB N="178" REF="97">
joy was then, as likewi&s;e what that of <HI>Po|licrite, Solon, Megi&s;to, Dorida,</HI> and the other women that were upon the &s;hore; they all &s;houted for joy.</P>
<P>Yet was it not yet time to rejoice; For though it be not hard to guide a floating boat, yet <HI>Philoxypes</HI> was &s;o weary, as there was rea&s;on to di&s;pair of his ever accom|pli&s;hing what he had &s;o happily begun: he was &s;een to &s;ink twice under water, yet never quit the rope which he had in his hand. Think &s;ir, how great <HI>Policrites</HI> greif was then, and with how many tears &s;he repaid the pains he took to &s;ave her. One might ob&s;erv this Amorus Prince do two contrary things; for he would look back upon the &s;hore, that he might the &s;ooner bring back his Dear <HI>Policrite</HI> thither; and &s;omtimes believing he &s;hould peri&s;h without &s;aving her, he would at lea&s;t have the contentment of &s;eeing her at his la&s;t ga&s;p.</P>
<P>He looked thus, &s;ometimes towards the &s;hore, &s;ometimes on <HI>Policrite:</HI> and things were in this condition; when <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> and <HI>Solons</HI> &s;ervants, who tarryed a good way behinde by rea&s;on of &s;ome ac|cident which had befallen one of their
<PB N="179" REF="97">
hor&s;es, were come up, among&s;t which was one of <HI>Philoxypes</HI> his gentlemen, who being skilful in &s;wimming, threw him&s;elf in&s;tantly into the Water, and helped his dear Ma&s;ter to guide <HI>Policrite</HI> back unto the &s;hore, where this Prince was no &s;oo|ner arrived, but that his force failing him he &s;wounded.</P>
<P>Tis needle&s;s to tell you what <HI>So|lon, Megi&s;to,</HI> and all the re&s;t that were on the &s;hore, did to aide him. As for <HI>Policrite,</HI> &s;hee was &s;o &s;urprized and &s;o afflicted to &s;ee what condition <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> was in, as &s;he was not &s;en&s;ible of the joy of having e&s;caped &s;o great a dan|ger: but at la&s;t, after having carried <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> into one of tho&s;e little Huts, and having by the means they u&s;ed, brought him to life again, and dryed his apparrel, he asked where <HI>Policrite</HI> was? whom <HI>So|lon</HI> brought to him out of a little cham|ber whither &s;he had retired her &s;elf, though &s;he had not yet perfectly &s;hook off the fear &s;he had been in of her &s;elf, and of <HI>Philoxypes.</HI></P>
<P>But at la&s;t all being retired that were in that little hut, &s;ave <HI>Megi&s;to, Policrite, Dorida, Philoxypes,</HI> and <HI>Solon. Solon</HI> de&s;ired
<PB N="180" REF="98">
<HI>Megi&s;to</HI> to tell him, why &s;he had quitted the little abode which he had cau&s;ed be built for her? wherefore &s;he was come to this place, and where <HI>Cleanthes</HI> was? Wherefore they had left no order to ac|quaint him with their removal? and how this la&s;t misfortune had befallen <HI>Policrite?</HI> But, &s;aid he, &s;i&s;ter, &s;peak freely without any wi&s;e disgui&s;ing the truth. For Prince <HI>Philoxypes</HI> knows I am your brother, that <HI>Policrite</HI> is my daughter: and I know al&s;o that he does her the honour to love her; therefore conceal nothing for his re&s;pect, for he hath now a deeper &s;hare in <HI>Poli|crite,</HI> then I have, &s;ince I have given her to him; and that he may now lay a new claim unto her, by having &s;aved her life.</P>
<P>I leave you to imagine, Sir, how <HI>Poli|crite</HI> was &s;urprized to know that &s;he was <HI>Solons</HI> daughter, whom &s;he knew to be a great and excellent man, but whom &s;he knew not to be her father; and to know at the &s;ame time that &s;hee was be&s;towed on <HI>Phyloxypes;</HI> &s;he blu&s;h'd, but with a great deal of mode&s;ty: and looking up|on <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> as if &s;he would ask her whe|ther it were true or no that &s;he was <HI>Solons</HI> daughter? &s;he confirmed her in that be|lief;
<PB N="181" REF="98">
and afforded her lea&s;ure &s;o to con|found the joy &s;he had to &s;ee <HI>Philoxypes</HI> a|gain, with that of her knowing her &s;elf to be daughter to &s;o famous a man, as no|thing appeared in her countenance but what &s;o great an honour might cau&s;e in her.</P>
<P><HI>Philoxypes</HI> beginning then to &s;peak, &s;aid as obliging things to <HI>Solon</HI> in <HI>Policrites</HI> behalfe, as in his own; and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> was &s;omewhile before &s;he could &s;atisfie her Brothers curio&s;ity. But at la&s;t &s;he told him, That knowing the love Prince <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> bore to <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;he had thought it fitting to acquaint <HI>Policrite</HI> onely, that &s;he was more then what &s;he took her &s;elf to be, to the end &s;he might know how to treat <HI>Philoxypes</HI> with more indifferency; and that &s;he might think her &s;elf the le&s;s obliged to him for his affection: That <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and &s;he, having ob&s;erved that this had produced a contrary effect in <HI>Po|licrite,</HI> and Prince <HI>Philoxypes</HI> having &s;hew|ed much pa&s;&s;ion in the la&s;t vi&s;it which he made them, &s;he confe&s;t the ones worth, and the others youth had cau&s;ed &s;ome ap|prehen&s;ion in her: that in pur&s;uit here|of, knowing that the King was at <HI>Claria,</HI>
<PB N="182" REF="99">
and fearing lea&s;t <HI>Philoxypes</HI> might &s;peak to him of <HI>Policrites</HI> beauty, &s;he had advi|&s;ed <HI>Cleanthes</HI> to quit his abode, which in effect they had done, and were come to this little Maretine hamlet where <HI>Clean|thes</HI> was acquainted with an old Fi&s;her|man, who had left them his hut, being him&s;elfe gone to live with a &s;on of his: that they had left a young Slave at their former place of abode, with direction, That if <HI>Solon</HI> &s;hould come thither, he &s;hould wi&s;h him to come the fir&s;t day of the next en&s;uing moon to a Temple which they named unto him, where <HI>Cle|anthes</HI> would not fail to be on the &s;ame days to meet him when he &s;hould come thither.</P>
<P>That &s;ince that time, <HI>Cleanthes</HI> had learnt by the Prie&s;t of the little Temple which was near their former abode, that this Slave was dead; &s;o as knovving that the time of <HI>Solons</HI> return drevv near, <HI>Cle|anthes</HI> re&s;olved to go live him&s;elf alone at <HI>Paphos,</HI> knovving that vvhen he &s;hould return to <HI>Cyprus,</HI> he vvould not fail to vvait upon the King, and &s;o he could not mi&s;s of him; to vvhich purpo&s;e he was gone thither that very morning: that <HI>Po|licrite,</HI>
<PB N="183" REF="99">
who had no better pa&s;time, e&s;pe|cially &s;ince they had left their former abode, then to draw every day &s;ome|thing or other upon her Tablebooks: &s;eeing all the fi&s;her men were gone from their little hamlet, leaving no boat behinde them, &s;ave that wherein they had &s;een her, and wherein there was nei|ther Rudder nor Oare, &s;ate down in it, and not minding whether it were well fa&s;tened to the &s;hore or no, was de&s;igning forth that little rural float of boats which went &s;till further from her: that &s;he was &s;o attentive to her work in hand, that as &s;he her &s;elf had told them, &s;he did not perceive the boat wherein &s;he was, was loo&s;ened from the land, and went float|ing as the winds blew it: &s;o as &s;aid <HI>Megi&s;to,</HI> coming forth to look after <HI>Polycrite,</HI> I &s;aw her in the po&s;ture I have told you, and skreek'd out &s;o loud, as I made her perceiv the danger &s;he was in, not being able to help her, there not being one man left it the whole Ham let; and all the fi&s;her boa, having already doubled a Cape of land whereby we lo&s;t &s;ight of them.</P>
<P><HI>Megi&s;to</HI> having ended her relation, <HI>Solon</HI> gan admire the Providence of the Gods
<PB N="184" REF="100">
in the guidance of worldly things; and con&s;idering that unle&s;s <HI>Philoxipes</HI> and he had lo&s;t their way, <HI>Policrite</HI> in all ap|pearance had been lo&s;t, he could not &s;ufficiently prai&s;e the Godde&s;s, who had &s;o well receiv'd his &s;acrifice; in effect, this Temple of <HI>Venus Urania,</HI> hath got much renown by this adventure. But Sir! to abu&s;e your patience no longer, I will only tell you, that in&s;tead of going to <HI>Paphos, Philoxypes</HI> and <HI>Solon</HI> went the next day to <HI>Claria,</HI> whether they brought <HI>Megi&s;to, Policrite, Dorida,</HI> and all the wo|men that attended them, after that <HI>Phi|loxypes</HI> had largely rewarded all the fi&s;h|ermens wives for their Ho&s;pitality and curte&s;ie &s;hewed to <HI>Policrite.</HI> To tell you how great <HI>Philoxypes</HI> and <HI>Policrites</HI> joy was, would be no ea&s;ie matter, and to relate unto you in what terms this happie Lover expre&s;t his &s;atisfaction to <HI>Policrite,</HI> and with what an obliging mo|de&s;ty &s;he received the te&s;timony of his affection, and gave him &s;ome marks of hers, would be to undertake to diffi|cult a task. For to learn in one and the &s;ame day, that &s;he was daughter to the &s;o Illu&s;trious <HI>Solon,</HI> and that &s;he was to
<PB N="185" REF="100">
be wife to <HI>Philoxypes,</HI> were two things wherewith her &s;oul was divided. <HI>Philo|xypes</HI> failed not to &s;hew <HI>Policrite</HI> her pi|ctures in his Gallery, which though rare|ly hand&s;ome, came much &s;hort of her. The next day <HI>Solon</HI> &s;ent to enquire out <HI>Cleanthes</HI> at <HI>Paphos,</HI> where he was found and brought to <HI>Claria.</HI> Nece&s;&s;ary order being taken for it, <HI>Cleanthes, Megi&s;to, Poli|crite,</HI> and <HI>Dorida,</HI> had cloathes made an|&s;werable to their condition.</P>
<P>The next morning the prince&s;s of <HI>Sa|lamis,</HI> and the Prince&s;s <HI>Agheri&s;ta,</HI> be|ing adverti&s;ed by their brother <HI>Philoxy|pes</HI> of the truth of his adventure: the&s;e two fair Prince&s;&s;es, I &s;ay, who loved him dearly, who had learned <HI>Policrytes</HI> illu|&s;trious birth by this adverti&s;ement, and who did reverence <HI>Solon</HI> as a God, went to <HI>Claria,</HI> to conduct this beautiful crea|ture to <HI>Paphos.</HI></P>
<P>But good Gods! how they were &s;ur|prized with her extream beauty, compa|ring which with her Pictures they found her to exceed them far; but if &s;he appear|ed fair unto them, &s;he &s;eemed yet more &s;piritual.</P>
<P>She had &s;omwhat in her of admirable
<PB N="186" REF="101">
mode&s;ty, which having nothing in it of Ru&s;tick, rendred her yet more plea&s;ing: &s;he had a &s;oul doubtle&s;ly, fraught with all that innocency which &s;hee had pre|&s;erved amid&s;t tho&s;e Rocks: but withall a minde and humour wherein were all the Charms which the Court could af|ford.</P>
<P>For <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> being rightly <HI>Solons</HI> &s;i&s;ter, knew as wel as any one what was requi&s;it in, and did nece&s;&s;arily become tho&s;e of her Sex, and had perfectly in&s;tructed <HI>Policrite</HI> therein.</P>
<P>Young <HI>Dorida</HI> appeared al&s;o to be ve|ry fair, and lovely at the Court, where the King received <HI>Solon, Cleanthes, Me|gi&s;to, Philoxypes,</HI> and <HI>Policrite,</HI> with un|expre&s;&s;able joy and honor. And this &s;o much the more, as that being at la&s;t, re|&s;olved to content Prince&s;s <HI>Aretaphi|les</HI> Ambition, that &s;o he might &s;ati&s;|fie his own Love, had made her be told the day before, that it &s;hould be her fault if &s;he were not Queen.</P>
<P>But if <HI>Aretaphile</HI> were Queen of <HI>Cy|prus, Policrite</HI> was the Queen of Beauty; none but the Prince&s;s of <HI>Salamis</HI> could any ways di&s;pute that glorious Empire
<PB N="187" REF="101">
with her. In fine, Sir, there was nothing heard of now, but fea&s;ts and rejoycing. <HI>Solon</HI> being of nece&s;&s;ity to be gon, they ha&s;ted the co~&s;ummation of the&s;e famous marriages: The King would have one Ceremony &s;erve for them both; nor did <HI>Cyprus</HI> ever &s;ee any thing of more glo|rious, though it were done with preci|pitation. <HI>Solon</HI> called then to minde <HI>E|pimenides</HI> his predictions, and confe&s;t there was &s;omewhat of Divine in that holy man. But his Countries intere&s;t prevailing more with him, then vvhat&s;o|ever other intere&s;ts, he departed for <HI>A|thens,</HI> &s;o as &s;ome tears of &s;orrovv did for a vvhile a little allay <HI>Policrite</HI>'s Joy; but to comfort her, young <HI>Dorida</HI> vvas left vvith her, vvhen <HI>Cleanthes</HI> and <HI>Megi&s;to</HI> imbarkt them&s;elves with <HI>Solon.</HI> This was the condition Sir, wherein this great man left the Court of <HI>Cyprus:</HI> to vvit, the King highly content: Queen <HI>Areta|phile</HI> as highly &s;atisfied, and <HI>Philoxypes</HI> and <HI>Policrite</HI> &s;o happie, as vvi&s;hes could not add thereunto.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
