The history of the Earl of Warwick, sirnam'd the King-maker: containing his amours, and other memorable transactions. By the author of the Memoirs of the English court.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- THE PREFACE.

- MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK. PART I.

- MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK: PART II.

- MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK: PART III.

- BOOKS Sold by J. Morphew, and James Woodward, near Sta tioner's-Hall.

- The Remaining Part OF The Unknown Lady's PACQUET of LETTERS, Taken from her By a French Privateer in her Passage to Holland.

- LETTER I. From an English Gentleman in France, to his Sister in England, giving her an Ac count of the Change of that Court from Gallantry to Devotion, or from open Irre ligion to Hypocrisy.

- LETTER II. To the same from the same; being an Account of the salacious Amours of Madam Mon tespan, one of the French King's Mistres ses, with Lords, Gentlemen, Players, &c.

- LETTER III. Being a Secret History of the Intrigues, Amours, &c. of the Frince of Hesse in England and Spain.

- LETTER IV. Being an Account of an Amour of a young Widow of the Town and two Gallants, Mr. C. of D. and Mr. S blank J blank .

- LETTER V. From a Lady to a Lady; being an Account of her own Adventures, and Loss of her Lovers.

- LETTER VII. A Renunciation of Chymistry.

- LETTER VIII. A Letter of Friendship.

- LETTER IX. Consisting of various Heads.

- LETTER X. A Congratulation on the Encrease of the Lady's Riches.

- LETTER XI. An Answer to a Lady that had desired to make him a Visit in the Country.

- LETTER XII. Two Letters of Love, by the Late D blank of D blank

- LETTER XIII.

- THE CONTENTS.

FINIS.

THE HISTORY OF THE Earl of WARWICK, Sirnam'd The KING-MAKER: Containing his AMOURS, And other Memorable Transactions.

By the Author of the Memoirs of the English Court.

To which is added, The Remaining Part of the Unknown Lady's Pacquet of LETTERS, taken from her by a French Privateer in her Passage to Holland, suppos'd to be Written by several Persons of Quality: Brought over from St. Maloes by an English Officer, at the last Exchange of Prisoners.

LONDON, Printed, and Sold by J. Woodward in St. Christopher's Church-yard, Thred-needle-street; and J. Morphew near Stationers-Hall, 1708.

THE PREFACE.

THE Author of the following Treatise having gain'd so Ʋniversal an Applause in her several Pieces, in most Parts of Europe, that it would be judg'd superfluous, to enlarge our selves in her Praise; I have only a few Words to add concerning the History it self. The Reader will here meet with a most agreeable Intermixture of Passions, which produc'd the most surprizing Events and Revolutions in this Island, that can well be imagin'd, so artificially and curiously interwoven within one another, that the whole Intertexture represents to you, Ambition, Courage, Love and Constancy, in their most exalted Vigour and Strength, and that upon so exact a Level, that it is hard to judge (for some time) which is either the most predominant or the most likely to triumph over the rest: At last, Love exerts her utmost Charms, and gives us undeniable Proofs of the absolute sway She bares even in the most Memorable Actions of the Greatest of Men, and the most Stupendious Events in the World. You will here see King Edward more than once venturing his Crown for the Love of Madam Grey, and upon the Point of losing it for ever. You will see here, I say, the Great Earl of Warwick, who had the Art of gaining of Crowns, forfeit them to his Love: As his Fall is an undeniable Instance, that even in the Transactions of the highest Moment, the Passions of Princes have often a greater Share than the most profound Reasons of State; so it may serve as a Warning to all Favourites, and make them reflect on the Instability of their Greatness, which is built upon so slippery a Foundation. Two Great, tho' Ʋnfortunate Heroes, are suing for your Favour, in hopes, that since they have made so glorious a Figure Abroad, we will not suffer, to our Confusion, that their Memory should be lessen'd among their own Posterity. I had almost forgot to add, That since some of the Lady's Letters, found in her Cabinet, could not be inserted in the Memoirs of the English Court, least the Book should have swell'd to too great a Bulk, it was thought fit to annex them to this.

MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK.
PART I.

HENRY of Lancaster, King of England, had reign'd peaceably near thirty years, when Richard Duke of York, whose Ancestors were once in full Possession of that Crown, resolv'd to lay hold of that favourable Juncture which then offer'd it self, to assert and maintain his Right, in conjunction with Edward Earl of Marche, his Son, and Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, his most intimate Friend. These having raised a good number of Troops, and back'd by a strong Party, made War upon King Henry. It seem'd as if Fortune had pitch'd upon the Kingdom of England, to make it the Theater of its capricious Chance: After several Battles fought with different success, the Duke of York being upon the point of giving another to his Rival, Andrew Tralop, an ancient brave Officer, in whom he much confided, unexpectedly went over with all his Forces to the King; so that seeing himself thus weakned, he had no other way left than to retire as fast as he could. The Earls of la Marche and Warwick left him at that Conjuncture, the better to repair this sudden Disappointment, and having rais'd fresh Troops, march'd towards London, where having all this while maintain'd a secret Correspondence, they were admitted into that City, and the King oblig'd to seek for shelter in the Tower. Margarete of Anjou his Queen, a Lady of an undaunted Courage, having, notwithstanding this, found means to raise and put the King and her self at the Head of a formidable Army, they sought for nothing more than to come to an Engagement: The two Earls being no less eager for fighting, they came to a Battle near Northampton; Fortune declar'd for the Earls, and the unfortunate King Henry was taken Prisoner.

Notwithstanding this good Success, the Duke of York finding matters not altogether to answer his Expectation, was willing to come to an Accommodation with the captive King: But the Queen more resolute, and less tractable than the King her Spouse, and not able to brook a Submission so little suitable to her Courage and the high Rank she bore in the World, positively refused to come to London, looking upon the Orders sent by the King as forced from him by his Enemies; but instead thereof, leaving no stone unturn'd to repair their Disgrace, at last saw her self once more in a Condition to offer Battle to the Duke of York. This Prince despising to be challeng'd by a Woman, a Bloody Battle was fought, wherein the Queen proving victorious, caus'd the Heads of the Duke, and the Earl of Rutland his Son, slain in the Engagement, to be put over the Gates of the City of York.

From thence she hastned to London, to see the King and deliver him of his Imprisonment; but receiving Intelligence that the Earls of La Marche and Warwick had carried him along with them, and were at the Head of a good Army, She Engag'd them with the first Opportunity, obtain'd the Victory, but enjoy'd not the Fruits thereof: For the Earl of La Marche getting to London before her, was there Proclaim'd King, under the Name of Edward IV. Henry and Margarete had no sooner Notice of this unexpected News, but they assembled all their Troops, and Edward fully resolv'd not to suffer them to approach London, march'd with all possible Expedition, in Conjunction with the Earl of Warwick, towards Tanton; There he gave Battle to Henry, which lasted two days, and cost the Lives of 36000 Men: Victory at last declar'd for Edward, who having now no more Enemies to encounter in the Field, began to relish the Sweets of an agreeable Tranquility, and took effectual Care to reward the Fidelity of his Friends.

He was a Prince endu'd with all the Qualities requisite to make himself belov'd; His high Birth and the Crown he wore, had a less share in the Respect and Love his Subjects bore him, than his goodly Air, and great Qualifications; He was very engaging, sprightly, of a sweet and tender disposition; He was a little too much addicted to Gallantry, so that his various Passions have sometimes been a Reproach to him: However his Warlike Inclinations always had the better over his Love Passion; for he prefer'd Martial Exploits to all other Considerations.

It is easie to be guess'd at, with what Demonstrations of Joy this Victorious Prince was receiv'd at London; Among the rest of his faithful Servants was General Talbot Earl of S•…op; and this young Monarch, to reward his Services, and to shew his Acknowledgment to all the World, bestow'd not only vast Riches upon him, but also honour'd him with his Confidence, which made that General to be highly caress'd at Court.

The Earl of Devonshire, having at that time some Business of great Moment to transact at Court, sought all possible Means of gaining General Talbot to his Interest, which perhaps he would not have encompass'd at a very easie rate, he being a Man of a blunt Conversation, who aim'd at nothing more, than to have the Reputation of a faithful Servant to his King, and of a good Soldier: But happening one Day to divert himself with walking in a Garden near Hampton-Court, and meeting accidentally with the Countess of Devonshire, he was surpriz'd, and quite dazled with her Beauty and Charms. As the Earl of Anglesey her Father, had kept her very retir'd at his own House ever since she had been married, for fear this growing young Beauty should produce some sinister Effects at Court; so nothing but an Accident could have given an Opportunity to the General of seeing her.

The General's Mind equally divided betwixt Love and Respect, would not permit him to accost her; so he contented himself with walking up and down in a certain Walk, from whence he could see her. Thus quite possess'd with the Idea of this Charming Lady, he returns to London, and so to Court. The King was then playing at Cards with several Ladies, attended by a great Number of Courtiers: But the Earl of Warwick was got at some Distance from the rest, in order to enter a certain Memorandum of Consequence to himself, in his Table Book. I told you before, that the Earl of Warwick's Name was Richard de Neville; but I did not tell you, that being bred up along with the King, this Prince lov'd him beyond any of all his Favourites; and in effect, he had greater Obligations to him, than to any other of all his Friends. He was the Son of Richard de Neville Earl of Salisbury, Lord Chancellor of England, and Alice the only Daughter of Thomas Montague, Earl of Salisbury. Tho' but young at that time, he was already a Widower, his deceased Lady being Anne, Sister to the Duke of Warwick. The Earl, whose History I am a going to give you, was a Person so far surpassing in his Personal Merits, Courage and Generosity, all others at Court, that he acquir'd the Sirname of the Great. Never liv'd a Man in greater Affluence and Splendor, nor ever did any one things with a better Grace than he; He being so far from endeavouring to heap up Riches, or to husband his Estate, that he look'd upon Wealth as a thing not worth his Care: Notwithstanding this Indifferency he was the Richest Lord in the Kingdom. He had a Genius so far predominant above the common Rank of Men, that even those who had a Prejudice against him, and were ready at all Turns either to Contradict, or at least not to Credit him, no sooner heard him speak, but like Inchanted Men, were compell'd to agree to what he propos'd. He was both beautiful and finely shap'd, even to a Miracle; His Magnificence and Gallantry, which was natural to him, made him both Lovely and Dangerous. The King loving him both by Inclination and Gratitude, had made him not only his Confident, but also bestow'd the Greatest Places in the Kingdom upon him. It may justly be said of him, That nothing could have bin above him, had he bin capable of applying his whole Mind to Business: But his Inclinations for Love, and a certain Notion he had fram'd to himself, That even the highest Dignities are purchas'd at too dear a Rate, when upon that account we are forced to sacrifice the Pleasures of our Life, made him sometimes stop in that Carreer wherein otherwise he might have carried every thing before him at Pleasure.

This Character, upon which I have perhaps enlarg'd a little too much, has insensibly drawn me away from General Talbot. He, after having look'd a little while upon the Gamesters, espying the Earl, drew nearer and told him, You are too Gallant a Person, for one to suppose you should write any thing else, but some Verses or other to your Mistress; And how happy are you, My Lord, to be able to make them! The Earl looking upon him, said Smiling; What! Is this General Talbot? Has he got some Relish in the tender Effects produced by Poetry? He made no answer, but lifting up his Eyes towards Heaven, observ'd in the Earls Countenance all the marks of that Ironical and Malicious Air, which he was blam'd for by some. Alas! cry'd the General, I intended to make you my Confident; but you are not indulgent enough. The Word Confident, rais'd in the Earl an extream Desire of being admitted into the Secret, since by his Sighs and other passionate Motions, he was sensible there was a Love Intreague in the case, and he cou'd not but be highly pleased to see such a Savage Creature, to be taken in the Snare of a Young Beauty. Don't be dismay'd, said he, at my Jocular way, I can be serious upon Occasion; I guess in part at your Thoughts; You are in Love, and you may assure your self, you shall find in me the only Man in the World, who is capable of giving you the best Advice. 'Tis impossible, reply'd the General, I should be in Love in so small a time; 'tis not above three Hours since I saw, and that for the first time, the Person that makes me thus sigh; but my Lord, continued he, Oh! How Beautiful is she! She has a noble Air, without Affectation; there was never a better Shape seen than Hers; her Complexion, the Colour of her Hair, her Features, to be short, every thing is charming in Her. I went to Hampton-Court, to pay a Visit to the Duke of Norfolk who has bin ill for some days; as I was taking a walk in a Garden, I saw the Earl of Devonshire and his Lady doing the same; he having desired me to serve him in a Business of his, against one of my Friends, I did all I cou'd to avoid meeting him, as soon as I got sight of them, and therefore turn'd off into a By-walk where I thought I was secure from being seen; but alas! within a few Minutes, I found him and the Countess sitting upon a Seat of Green Turfs; for it being then very hot, she was somewhat tired with walking: The Colour of her Cheeks resembled two white Roses mix'd with an Incornation; her Eyes carry'd along with them so bright a Lustre, that I never beheld any thing like it in all my Life; and to be short, my Lord, must I tell you over and over again, that she appear'd to me a most ravishing Beauty. You shall tell it me, reply'd the Earl, as often as you think fit for your own Satisfaction; I am extreemly pleas'd to see you so Passionate for a Handsom Young Lady, and fancy I shall see you before long work at your Needle, as Hercules did with Omphalis. Alas! said he, I am at a great Distance to see her as my Omphalis; you will see an unfortunate Lover, who is quite a Novice in the very Rudiments of that Art wherein you excel. Don't talk of Ignorance, answer'd the Earl, 'tis enough for a Man to Love, to render him quickly capable of attaining to every thing required in Love; and will you make me believe, that you were never touch'd with any other Beauty before? No, said he, I knew not what Love was, I will declare it to you by all the most direful Imprecations that can be. He was actually a going to call Heaven and Earth to Witness, when the Earl interrupting him, said, I believe you, my Lord, I believe you; I am convinc'd you never was in Love before: But pray let me know wherein I can serve you. You can, said he, instruct me in what I must do to be belov'd; because you understand it better then any other Man in the World. To do this, I should be acquainted with the Countess of Devonshire, reply'd the Earl, I should converse with her, and be admitted into her secret Thoughts, if I should serve you for a Guide; whereas now you put me into a Foreign Country, where I am ignorant both of the Language and Manners of the People; so that as the Case stands, I can scarce advise you to any thing but what must create new troubles to you.

I had the satisfaction, reply'd the General, of meeting with a very favourable Reception, her Husband as I told you standing in need of my Assistance, which I will give him to the utmost of my Power; but after all, to please the Husband is not always an infallible Rule of pleasing his Spouse. After all, said the Earl, it is a fair step in your Way, and it often happens, that those who please the Lady don't please the Husband; as on the other hand, all that please the Husband don't always please the Wife. He laugh'd very heartily at these expressions of the Earl of Warwick; and said he, since you give me such Encouragement, I am impatient to embark under the Conduct of so great a Master. At the worst, What Hazard am I likely to run? The loss of a Liberty, of what I ought to be weary long ago. I know not, said the Earl, whether you are weary, but this I am assured of, you ought to be asham'd of it.

They were so intent upon the matter, that they did not perceive the King had left off playing, who approaching nearer, and over-hearing the last Words; ask'd them, What it was the General ought to be asham'd of? The Earl was a going to divert the King with telling the whole Story, but that the General tipping the wink upon him to conceal it, he told the King, That he was blaming the General on account of his Indifferency, and that he had made him an Offer, to exchange with him some part of his Sensibility, for the General's Insensibility. The King reply'd with a smile, He was oblig'd to the Earl, since he lov'd the General so well, as to be glad to see him engag'd in some Love Amusements.

The Description the General had given of the Countess of Devonshire, raised in the Earl of Warwick an extream Desire of being acquainted with her: He had indeed seen her before; but She being very young, seldom appearing at Court, and he at that time engaged with another Person, her Charms had not made any impressions upon him; it was no difficult matter for him to find out a plausible Pretence to make her a Visit: He pitch'd upon a Day when he knew the Earl to be abroad a Hunting; he pretended some certain Business, and having contriv'd the matter accordingly, he sent to know whether he might speak with the Countess about some Business that concern'd her Lord:

She was then in a Grotto at the further End of her Garden, and the Season being very hot; He found her resting upon a Seat of Green Turfs, in a Silk Night Gown of Rose Colour, with Silver Flowers; she appear'd very negligent and pensive: The Countess of Anglesey her Mother sitting near her upon the same Seat. Notwithstanding the Earl was sufficiently prepared for such an Interview by the Praises and Transports of General Talbot: This did not hinder him for relishing that Excess of Pleasure, which is commonly occasion'd by a Surprize of this nature: His Eyes and Heart both agreeing in this point, That nothing in the World was Comparable for Beauty to Madam Devonshire; And in spite of all his Natural Boldness, for which the Earl was reprehended by some, and all his Contrivance to give a Specious Pretence for this Visit, he stood so amazed, that, without being able to utter one Word, he did nothing but make his Bows to the Ladies, considering all this while what to say, without being able to find out where to begin.

Another thing that puzled him, was to find out a Place were to seat himself: The Countess of Anglesey would have engag'd him to sit down next to her; but judging he should not there have a full Sight of her fair Daughter, he set himself down upon a large Marble kind of Bason, which served for a Receiver of Water from another Vessel placed above it; here having taken his Seat, without reflecting upon what might happen, he began to enter upon Compliments, or to speak truly, upon such extravagant bombast stuff, that the Ladies did not know what to make of it: However he went on in the same road, till on a sudden finding himself cold and wet almost all over, he stood altogether surpriz'd at this new Adventure. You must know, that the Master of the Water-works seeing him under the Grotto, had made all the haste he cou'd to make the Waters play; which falling from the uppermost Vessel into that whereon he sat, had wetted him to the very Skin; his Surprize was such as to render him incapable of uttering one Word more, and the Countess of Devonshire, who not only look'd upon him, but also hearkned to his Discourse with a great deal of Attention, finding him Speechless, thought no otherwise than that he had bin very ill: Give me leave, said she, my Lord, to ask how you do? He was a going to tell her, he did very badly, which in effect was no more than the real Truth; but was so much startled at the Question, that he knew not what answer to return. Doubtless, said he to himself, she is sensible of what has happened; but if I tell her I am wet to the Skin she will laugh at me; and if I remain sitting in this cursed place, I shall be worse ridiculed by and by. Whilst he was thus arguing with himself, he spoke not one word; so that the Countess of Anglesey imagining no otherwise, than that he had actually lost the use of his Tongue, arose from her Seat and threw some water in his Face; crying, My Lord, Do you hear me? Yes Madam, reply'd he, bursting out a laughing at their Fancy, I both understand and see you very well, and if I had bin ready to fall into a Swoon, your Spring would have prevented it; and so he arose all wet from head to foot backwards. The young Countess could not for bear bursting out into a loud laughter, in spite of all the grave looks of her Mother; and this Gayety of hers, haing dispersed all the Earl's Splenetick Fancies, and revived in him his natural Vivacity, he entertain'd them with that Sprightliness of Wit they never had met with before in any other in all their Lives.

The Condition he saw himself in, not permitting him to stay with them as long as he cou'd have wish'd, and remembring at the same time, that the Countesses Husband was not to come home till after the next Day, he only told them part of his pretended Errand, desiring Leave at the same time to refer the rest to another Visit. The Countess was willing enough not to refuse so indifferent a Favour to a Person of his Rank, nevertheless she look'd upon her Mother before she would return an Answer, and the Earl soon perceived that she staid for her Permission; the Countess of Anglesey told him, They would look upon it as an Honour, and they were too much concern'd at the accident that had beflan him, not to be desirous to be forthwith inform'd of its Consequences: I am afraid, my Lord, said the Countess of Devonshire, you have taken Cold, your Bath was not well managed. He took Leave of the Ladies, and returning to the place where he had left his Chariot, his People were surprized to see him so wet, not being able to guess at the reason of it.

He was no sooner come home, but he threw himself upon the Bed, much less taken up with the Thoughts of his Health, than of that lovely Lady he had left behind, whose Idea had made so strong an Impression on his Mind, that he fancy'd every moment to hear and see her; he was turmoiling his Spirits with a thousand confused Thoughts, which all tended rather to encrease than to cure his Evil; but what most of all tormented him, was, that the Countess of Anglesey kept so watchful an Eye over her Daughter. What must I do, cry'd he, with this Argus, 'twill be impossible for me to find out as much as one favourable Moment, to disclose my Heart to her: Sometimes he would flatter himself, that, if the Countess loved any thing at all, it was not her Husband, and that, according to that rule, the Husband was less to be dreaded than a Rival Lover; but the more he thought of her, the more his passion increased.

His whole mind being insensibly taken up with these Considerations, word was brought him that the King was arising from Supper, so that without more ado, he got up and went to wait on him; he no sooner saw him, but ordred him to follow him in his Closet, where he made him read aloud certain Letters he had lately receiv'd from France; whilst he was reading, he ask'd, because he seem'd to be bloated and much out of order, Whether he had bin Bathing himself? The Earl was not a little surpriz'd at this question; but not imagining the King could know any thing of what had happened in the Grotto, told him, That it being a Cold Evening, he had taken Cold. The King smiled with a malicious Air, and the Earl, being much discomposed, blush'd; The King who observ'd it laugh'd out-right, and the Earls Colour came more and more; the King much pleas'd thereat, 'Do you know, said he, that the Earl of Devonshire, has begg'd of me, to forbid you to Visit at his House; He is not a little jealous since you have taken the liberty of Bathing your self before his Lady. Ah! Sir, cry'd he, if you are acquainted with my Adventure, they have given you information of a thing of very slender Consequence. How, reply'd the King, Do you think I am not very well pleas'd, to know which way you dispose of your self? In good earnest, my Lord, added he after a few Minutes Silence, What is it you propose by visiting this fair Lady? Have you any Business with Her Lord? Yes, Sir, reply'd the Earl, he was abroad a hunting, and I had scarce one Moments Conversation with her. You made your Addresses in a very Confused Speech, said the King, you were not sensible of what you said.' The Earl imagining, that either the young Countess or her Mother, had diverted themselves at his Cost, found himself so touch'd thereat, that he reply'd, 'These Ladies were not surprizing enough, to put me out of Order as your Majesty imagines; I find nothing uncommon in their Persons. I would not have you talk thus for your own Reputations sake, continued the King, since it will be much better your disorderly Addresses should be thought the Effect of a Surprize, than of the Confusion of your Mind.'

Being touch'd to the quick at these words, he was meditating how to revenge himself upon the Ladies, when the King continued, Is it possible you should be in Love with Madam Devonshire, and take amiss her giving an account to her Husband of what pass'd in his absence? I don't part with my Heart, Sir, at so easie a rate, replied the Earl; If the Countess were much more Lovely than she is, I would first be very well acquainted with her, before I entred into such an Engagement. The more you Know her, the more you will Love her, cry'd the King sighing; Nature never framed any thing more compleat than her self, She is one of her Miracles. These Words were utter'd by the King with such an air, as surpriz'd the Earl to that degree, that for want of Strength to support himself, he lean'd against a Cabinet unperceiv'd by the King, who being quite taken up with his own Thoughts, took no Notice of the Confusion the Earl was in; and he reading in the King's Face every thing that then pass'd in his mind, said to himself, Is it possible that my Master should be my Rival, and that he has bin so dextrous in concealing his Passion for the Countess, that I have discover'd nothing of it hitherto! Whilst he was ruminating upon the odness of this Miracle (for it is no less than a Miracle, for a Sovereign to Love without Noise) the King cast his Eyes upon him, and with an air, which would have appear'd most Charming and full of Goodness in any one else but a Rival, told him, My Lord, you are very dear to me, I can't agree to your Destruction: But look upon your self as lost, if you fall in Love with the Countess; I must withdraw my Favours from you, and you will never obtain any from her: That haughty Heart of hers disdains all Slaves below the Rank of Kings, and I believe she would look with Scorn upon my own Brothers. Sir, reply'd he, I am sensible, as I ought to be, of that charitable Care your Majesty is pleas'd to take to preserve me from suffering Shipwrack; but I sincerely declare to you, that hitherto I have been in no danger: 'Tis possible that in time some Fatal hour or other might have constrain'd me to surrender my Heart to the Countess, in spite of all my Reason; against which, what I have understood from your Majesty's own mouth, will serve as a full counterpoise. I would not have you imagine, added the King, that I disclose to you only half my Heart, I will give it you at full length, and confess my frailties.

'I was abroad a Hunting about Windsor; for the few days I staid there, most of the Gentlemen at Court being busy in rehearsing a Comedy with the Ladies at Court, at my Mothers, the Dutchesses Lodgings, and you laying ill of a Feaver, I had no other Attendance but those that were then in Waiting; These being but few in number, I lost their Company in the heat of the Chace.'

'The Sun began already to deline, the Sky became Cloudy, the Air pretty cool, and it Rain'd much; I had Rid very hard, was quite out of sight of the Hounds, and heard the noise of the Hunting Horns at a considerable distance; so that I thought it better to stay for their coming in a great Road, than go in search of them. I soon espy'd some Trees close and thick enough to keep the Rain from me, so I alighted and sought there for shelter: But scarce was I got well underneath the Trees, when I heard a great out-cry, and saw a Woman whose Horse was running away with her and coming towards me: I soon stop'd the Horse, and casting my Eyes upon the Person I had saved out of danger, I soon knew her to be the Countess of Devonshire, trembling all over, and looking so pale, that believing she was very ill, I lifted her in my Arms from on Horseback. During the first Emotions, she did not know me, talking of nothing but Fear and Danger. Cease Madam, to be afraid, said I, You are in a Place of Safety; and I wish Heaven would afford me the same security it has been pleas'd to bestow upon you; but I am already too sensible how difficult it is, to secure ones self against all these Evils, which are inseperable from the Pleasure of seeing you. Whilst I was talking to her, she had recover'd her self sufficiently to take notice of the freedom of my Conversation, and casting her Eyes upon and knowing me, How, Is it to you Sir, cry'd she, arising from the place where she was seated, Is it to you I stand indebted to for my Life? What words shall I make use of to shew you my acknowledgment? If you will give me leave, said I, to tell you what words I desire you would make use of, you will find them free from all Respect and Submission; my Wishes are for something more uncommon and more tender. She Blush'd, desiring leave not to tarry any longer so near me; What would the Earl of Devonshire think, said she, if he should find me with your Majesty alone in so solitary a Place? He wou'd think me more happy than really I am, reply'd I; but he would not think me more sensibly touch'd with your Deserts and Beauty.'

'To speak the Truth, continued the King, I never met with any thing more Charming in all my Life; Her Hair ty'd up in buckles play'd over her Shoulders; she wore a Close-body'd Man's Coat, which discover'd her whole Shape, which you know is to a Miracle; an Incornation Colour which succeeded that Paleness occasion'd by her Fear, produc'd a mixture of Roses and Lillies; and the contrary motions of Fear, and the succeeding joy of being deliver'd by me (as I flatter'd my self) proved a signal addition, to those Graces, all the World allows her to be Mistress of. To be short, I look'd upon her with a satisfaction I am not able to express; I would fain have detain'd her, but was afraid of displeasing her, because her Lord, who was in the next Wood, would doubtless go in search for her in all the Corners thereof: But seeing her upon the point of remounting her Horse, Is it possible, said I, Madam, you should be willing to expose your self to the same Danger you were in just now? No, Madam, I must not suffer it; and if it be so, that you have Reason to avoid me, I will rather depart, notwithstanding the Violence I put upon my self, in thus leaving you; But, pray, promise to afford me some other few Minutes. It would not be becoming to me, Sir, reply'd she Modestly, to treat you with Indifferency. Never was a Man in a greater Confusion than my self; and whilst my Attendants were looking for me in every Corner, I had a Thousand distracted Thoughts concerning what might become of the Countess: No, said I, I can't plead in behalf of this imprudent Piece of Complaisance, I have left her alone in the middle of the Forrest, and that in such tempestuous Weather; How Cruel was I to my self, in letting slip so favourable an Opportunity of staying along with her! If any Mischance should befal her, how could I forgive my self? It seems as if Fortune and Love had conspir'd to Conduct her to that solitary Place; but I leave her without Trouble, and thus lose a Jewel, the Loss thereof, I shall perhaps have Occasion to repent of all my Life time.'

'After my return to Windsor, I told them at Supper, to require the Earl of Devonshire to send me his Hounds, because, having left at London, my Pack of large Hounds, I could not go a Stag-Hunting. I did not question, but that he himself would come along with them to Court, which he did accordingly, and was receiv'd by me as the Husband of a Lady whom I loved, and that to a high Degree. As I was oblig'd to act with all possible Precaution, in respect to the young Countess, I ask'd him where he had bin the Night before, and why he did not go abroad with me a Hunting? He told me, That, being not very well, he went out in his Chariot, but that his Wife being on Horseback, was in the greatest Danger imaginable, and ow'd her Life to a Peasant who had saved her.'

'I did not spend much time with him, but immediately went a Hunting, and directed the Chace towards his ••…at, with so much Eagerness, that upon Sight thereof, it seem'd to me, as if it retreated backwards: But not to give any Suspicion, I, in spite of all my impatience, follow'd the Chace; but with so much Uneasiness, for fear the Stag should run at too great a Distance thence, that every Moment I was ready to let fly at him. Oh! Love, said I, kill him with one of thy Darts, shorten the Minutes, that are to give me a Sight of the Countess; thou can'st not do me a better piece of Service. I pretended to be displeased with the Stagg's being run down so soon, and the Earl inviting me to his House, I gave him no Opportunity of reiterating his Request. The Noise of the Hounds and Horns had brought this Young Lady into a terrass'd Walk, that lay level with her own Apartment, where she was walking with some of the Neighbouring Ladies and her Mother. Sir, cry'd the Earl of Warwick, interrupting the King, what brought her thither? She is no great Lover of the Country, reply'd he, but the Earl of Anglesey was not very well; That is to say, continued the Earl, with his Eyes lift up towards Heaven, that every thing favour'd your Majesty's Design. I must own it, added the King; For, the Earl being altogether employ'd in ordering a magnificent Collation for my Entertainment, afforded me an entire Liberty of entertaining the Countess.'

'How uneasie have I bin upon your Account, said I? Alass! Madam, I feared every thing after the Danger I saw you undergo! And how often have I reproach'd my self with that Complaisance I shew'd, in thus abandoning you. It was absolutely necessary it should be so for every body's Repose, answer'd she, with a smile, your Majesty was not far off, before My Lord Devonshire came to the Place; he ask'd me by what Miracle I had escaped the Danger of a furious Horse? I told him as it happened, only Sir, that instead of naming your Majesty, I mentioned a Peasant, who had saved my Life. This Secret you were pleased to keep, I accept off as a happy Omen, reply'd I, and I will flatter my self, that in so doing, you were willing to secure me against the Suspicion of your Overseers; and it is impossible, that since you would take Care of my Security, in respect to them, you should aim at my Destruction in regard to your self. She blush'd at my Discovery of these flattering hopes, and said she, I was in perhaps the wrong to make a Mystery of so innocent a Matter; but, Sir, Persons of my Age, have so little Experience, that it is a hard Task to act in every thing as it were to be wish'd. Ah! Madam! cry'd I, how cruel are these Reflexions of yours! Don't rob me of all hopes on your side, whilst on mine, I am resolv'd to love you with so much Tenderness, and so entire a Resignation, as shall fully convince you of my Passion.'

'She heard me all this while, without speaking one Word; but now lifting up her Eyes which she had kept stedfast to the Ground, And what will the World say, Sir, said she, when ever your Passion should take vent? They would say, that I was more happy in pleasing you, then in possessing the Crown of England. And, continued she, how will this be relish'd by those who have an absolute Power over my Sentiments? Let me manage that part with them, said I, Do you secure to me your Heart, and I will secure you against all the World. No, Sir, no, cry'd she, no Man living shall have my Heart, except he unto whom of Right it belongs.'

'I was so far engaged in Discourse with her, that her Lord was within a few Paces only from us, when she seeing him approach, without being in the least discomposed, spoke, as if she had answered me; saying, I am much delighted with Hunting, and go sometimes abroad upon Sport. The Earl not imagining we were upon any other point, desired me to enter a spacious Room, where a Collation was ready at Hand, contrived with so much Magnificence, that I could have wish'd he had spar'd himself part of his pains; But as I was almost distracted, to see our Conversation thus interrupted, I thought of nothing else than how to renew it. This was no very easie Matter to do, because the Earl of Devonshire was over-diligent in heaping his Civilities upon me. I proposed to play with the Countess, and took the Spanish Ambassadour, who came along with me, for our third Man, because he understood no English. The Earl told me, his Wife being somewhat ignorant, I should give him Leave to instruct her how to Play more quiet and better. But I told him, That was the right way to disoblige me, since I could not bare any body should over-look the Game; so he went to take a Walk with some of my Attendants.'

'He was no sooner gone, but I acted my part so well, that having perswaded the Spanish Ambassadour I was weary of playing, because some Disputes were made about the Cards, I was at Liberty to talk to the Countess, and She to answer me, without being perceiv'd by our third Person. Alass! said I, My Charming Countess, when you come back to London, what will become of me, unless I see you every day? Oh! I am afraid you will leave me, and that will cost me my Life. She smiled with a Childish Air, not telling me what was to be done to see her, without giving any occasion of disturbance, as I was sensible was the thing that she dreaded most; so the more I knew her Fear, the more I strove to make her sensible also of the Impatience of a Man, not accustomed to Obsticles of that Nature; But all that I could say, was not sufficient to alter her Resolution, and, if she told me nothing that was offensive, she was very cautious in not saying any thing that was engaging; so that, with all my Application, I could draw no more from her, than Assurances of her Respect.'

'I had ordred one of the Grooms of my Bed-Chamber, to dive into all the Circumstances of that Family, which he did so successfully, that having insinuated himself into the Acquaintance of a certain Old Lady, who had bin Governess of the Countess, he found her of so Covetous a Temper, that in all Probability, she would not withstand Liberality: At last, after having talk'd with my Lady Devonshire for a considerable time, I left her, but so prepossess'd with her high Deserts, that, though she would not in the least flatter me with hopes of Success, I resolved to love her as long as I lived. Her Lord attended me as far as Windsor; I told him, I intended to go a Stagg hunting the next Day, and that he should not fail to go along with me, and spent some part of the Night in ruminating upon what she had said, and upon what I had further to do, to insinuate my self into her Favour.'

'I did rise before the Sun, to the Surprize of the whole Court, and was abroad so early, that the Earl of Devonshire came too late: However, he made haste to find me out, and met with a kind Reception from me: Under Pretence of talking of his Seat, I took the Opportunity to enquire after his Lady; She was, Sir, said he, the Occasion of my not being sooner with your Majesty, she is gone to London: I knew not whether he took Notice of my Countenance, but, I am sure it changed most strangely; however, he told me, that the Earl of Anglesey being ill when she came away from thence, was now very desirous to have her near him because, as he took Delight in nothing, so he hop'd her Conversation might divert him. I recover'd a little, when I understood the Occasion of her journey, which caused me so much Vexation; But after having follow'd the Chace for a little while, I clap'd Spurs to my Horse, and taking a By-road, soon found my self alone. I alighted, and placing my self under the agreeable Shade of some Trees, gave my self an entire Liberty of employing all my Thoughts upon the Countess; What Pleasures, said I, did not I promise to my self? And must one Moment rob me of what I love? I have taken no Care, either how to see her again, or how to write to her; And must I thus be separated from her? I ought rather to have fain'd my self Sick, to get an Opportunity of staying with her, or ought to bring her back to Windsor, under any Pretence whatever. Alass! What am I the better for my Soveraign Authority, if I dare not make use of it? I was then taking some Resolutions, what to do for the future; but these were soon gone, when I considered they might be displeasing to her. Thus, whilst I was strugling betwixt my Desires and Fear, I saw my self fluctuating upon the Boistrous Waves of a Sea that is never without Storms; all this while bewailing the Departure of my charming Countess: 'Twas just then, I heard the Noise of several Horses, and the Voices of Women; I should have had but little Curiosity to look after them, but that coming so near me, I arose to avoid them; the first thing that offered it self to my Sight, was my Lady Devonshire; At that very Moment, I felt all the Pleasure of an agreeable Surprise; I run towards her, and without asking whether she would alight, nay, without knowing what I proposed to do, I took her in my Arms and set her upon the Ground; But in a Moment after, reflecting upon what I had done, I began to be uneasie; However, it being too late to be recall'd, I ask'd her Pardon, conjuring her at the same time, to let me know, what unforeseen good Chance had brought her back; She told me, That the Axle-tree of her Chariot being broken by the Badness of the Road, which required a day's time to be mended, she had resolved to return from whence she came. I then told her, What a condition her Departure had put me into, and that I had not left my Company upon any other account than to give my self over to my secret Thoughts, and to bewail my self for having pass'd a Day without seeing her. She seem'd to be touch'd with a thing which she could not very well doubt of, seeing me in this Solitary Place, where I could not be inform'd of the Mischance that had happen'd to her Chariot, nor propose to meet with her at that time.'

'Among the Women that were along with her, I took Notice of Albine, whereof I had had so lively a Description, that it was impossible for me to mistake her. I had a great Inclination to have secured her into my Interest at that Instant; But Great People Labour under this Misfortune, That they can do nothing without being observed: 'Twas also for this Reason, that I would not detain the Countess so long as I could have wish'd. I told her all that can be said or call'd Tender; But could not discover in her any other Disposition, than what I observ'd the day before; so I was forced to hope for some happy Moment to see her in London. In the mean while, my Eyes follow'd her as far as they could; I sent a thousand Sighs after her, and then return'd where the Noise of the Hounds call'd me.'

'The Earl of Devonshire being ignorant of what Mischance had befaln his Lady's Equipage, I told it him, and that I had met her upon the Road, thinking that it might prove of worse Consequence to make a Mystery of it, than to tell it as really it was; But I found my self in the wrong, the Earl acting here the part of a jealous Husband, imputed to our own Contrivance the breaking of the Chariot, and our meeting in the Forrest, and without reflecting that we could not guess the illness of the Earl of Anglesey, which they knew nothing of, till after I left them, he resolved to remove her at a good Distance from Court. I did not guess at his Intention, and soon put an end to the Chace. He had no sooner taken his Leave from me, but he ordered every thing to be got ready, and unwilling to confide in any body but himself, carry'd her away at Midnight; so that the poor Lady saw her self exposed to those Reproaches she deserved not.'

'So soon as I got notice thereof, I return'd to Court, and the Old Albine, who had espoused my Interest, told me, the Earl of Devonshire had desired my Lady Anglesy, to observe her Daughter more narrowly for the future; That we had had an Interview, and that doubtless she had answer'd my Purpose. This News pierced me to the very Heart, I writ to her, she sent me no Answer, except that she pray'd me with all possible Violence, to sacrifice my Impatience to her Honour. Judge you (continued the King) to what a Degree I love her, since till now I have kept this a Secret from you. I hear News from her every Day, and I shall certainly speak with her the first favourable Opportunity that offers. 'Twas Albine that told me concerning the Visit you made her, and that your appearing so much discomposed, had rais'd in them a Suspition you were sent by me, which would prove as unseasonable to me as to you: Take my Word for it, I will have neither Confident, nor Rival, love somewhere else, and never visit my Countess again.'

I have nothing to sacrifice, reply'd the Earl of Warwick, who by this time having had sufficient Leisure to recollect himself, and to consider of what he was to answer, told him: Sir, were the Young Countess as Beautiful in my Eyes as she appears to yours, I would certainly never think of her any more as long as I live, even if it should cost me my Life: But 'tis not I that am subject to this Fatality, 'tis General Talbot; 'tis true, Sir, he loves my Lady Devonshire with so excessive a Passion, that whereever he finds you to stand in his way, he will not be able to out-live his Pain. I can't imagine what you tell me to be true, answer'd the King, Who has told you the General is in Love? He who never was so before in his Life, a Person the most cautious and indifferent of all Men living? 'Tis a Secret he entrusted to me one Day, when your Majesty drew unexpectedly near us, said the Earl, and I intended to have given your Majesty the Diversion of understanding it at that time, but that the General making a sign of keeping the Secret, I began to talk concerning his Indifferency, instead of his Passion.

The King return'd no Answer, his Heart being divided betwixt Love and Generosity. He lov'd the General out of Gratitude, but the charming Countess by Inclination; such was his Confusion, that to conceal it in some measure from the Earl, whose over Curiosity he not much lik'd, he left the Closet, and went into the Dutchess of York his Mother's Apartment.

The Earl came home overwhelm'd with a most profound Melancholy: Never did a Man pass a Night with more Anxiety and Trouble. Cease, Cease, Ʋnfortunate Man, said he, to adore an inaccessible Beauty: She is belov'd by thy Master, who notwithstanding all his Greatness and Addresses, has not as yet the least certainty of being beloved; and what then must be thy Destiny, if thou persists in so fatal a Passion! 'Tis time to abandon it, and to look upon this lovely Person as a dangerous Rock, which will stave thy Vessel to Pieces. He had scarce taken this Resolution, when retracting them as Frailties unbecoming his Courage, and little suitable to that happy Temerity, which had so often stood him in good stead. Is my Passion so weak, continued he, as to give way with so much ease to the Torrent that opposes its Progress? Have not I taken notice of some favourable Looks in the Countesses Eyes? I have no more to do than to persuade the King, That if he continues to be a Rival to the General Talbot, he will certainly die for Grief; and at the same time to make Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy sensible of the Infidelity of our Monarch, that she may endeavour to reclaim him.

This was a Lady of Quality, whose Family had bin Famous for being employ'd in the greatest Places of the Kingdom. In the Year 1173. Richard de Lucy, Lord Justice of England, was General of the King's Armies, during the Civil Wars; and ever since that time, this Family being inseparably united to the House of York, they were often out of Favour; Upon the Accession of Edward to the Throne, they signaliz'd themselves in their Affection for his Service. This was the reason why all his Favourites, but especially the Earl of Warwick, cast their Eyes upon Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, to make her the King's Mistress; which they did without much Difficulty. This young Monarch, as I told you before, was the most Gallant Prince of his Age, the best shap'd, the bravest and most witty of all Men living. Elizabeth on the other hand, was considered as a Miracle of Beauty, nothing was comparable to her Shape, and her Wit alone was sufficient to have set off her Charms, had they bin much inferior to hers: 'Tis true, she had a great Share of Pride and Haughtiness; She look'd upon it as her Due, to choose her Adorers out of the Royal Family, and that, without doing her a great piece of Injustice, they could not wear any other Fetters but hers. The King, not able to refuse her his Heart, at first visited her with much Circumspection on account of her Reputation; but it was a hard matter, considering the Ambition of the Lady, and the Love of her Gallant, to conceal a Secret of this Nature for any considerable time; in short, she was for having it out. The King created her a Marchionness of Heresord, which new Title, as it procured her a great Court, so it occasion'd no less Envy in others. As now the King gave himself an entire Liberty of shewing his Gallantry and Passion to her, so it was soon divulged every where; and 'tis possible, that this manner of loving so publickly, took away the nicest and sweetest part of its Relish.

But whatever it were, he was most passionately in love with the Countess of Devonshire, and had a most tender Concern for General Talbot, when he understood his Passion for her: He was most sensibly touch'd, that it shou'd be He who was likely to cause him so much Pain; and such was his Generosity, that he would have sacrificed his Passion to him, had it not bin beyond his Power so to do: He check'd his Inclinations, and was vex'd that his Heart would not join with his Reason in his Cure. To allay in some measure his Pain, he flattred himself, that the Earl of Warwick, whom he knew to be a bold and dextrous Person, perhaps made use of the General instead of a Shield, wherewith to shelter himself: For, said he, there is but little Reason to imagine, that a Soldier, who never had any Inclinations to Gallantry, should now enter upon so mad a Project, and that to so little purpose. Ought he not to consider, that he is not Master of any thing, that may flatter him, ever to be able to please the Countess of Devonshire? She is one of the greatest Ladys in the Kingdom, both for Estate and Birth, nothing is comparable to her Wit and Beauty; she is more narrowly watch'd than the Golden Fleece; What is it then that can make him promise to himself such a Conquest? 'Tis true, he is a well made Person, but he is none of the youngest; Oh! Doubtless 'tis Warwick himself that is the real Lover, who thus thinks to put the change upon me. This Notion afforded him some present Consolation; but to be secure of the Matter, he resolv'd to try all Means of diving into the General's Sentiments.

The Earl of Warwick having, by this young Monarch's last Discourse to him, understood that one of my Lady Devonshire's Women was not of a very difficult Access, he judged he might engage her in his Interest, by giving her greater Presents than the King had done, looking upon this as the most necessary Point for his Repose, in hopes to interrupt the Correspondence by Letters, betwixt his Master and the Countess, and in lieu thereof, to settle his own with her. He took also a full Resolution not to mention one Word to the General of what he knew, for Fear he should resign every thing to the King's Passion, a piece of Generosity he look'd upon as not very suitable to his present Design. He went early to wait on the King, and spent the rest of the Day in the Apartment of the Marchioness of Hereford; but could not meet with an Opportunity to tell her, she had a most dangerous Rival, as it was absolutely necessary, to set her to work, to prevent the King's engaging any further in this new Passion, and being uncertain when he might have a favourable time to entertain her, he ventur'd to write to her these Lines.

MADAM,

IT has not bin my Fault, that I am not now in a Condition to save you the Trouble of knowing, that the King is unfaithful: I have bin so bold as to represent to him, what Regard he ought to have to his Oaths, and how much he was in the wrong, to prefer the Countess of Devonshire to you, since her Charms are so much inferiour to yours. What is to be said in the Matter? Madam, Love is blind, and the King is apt to believe, that my Inclinations to support your Interest, makes me careless of his: Thus my Councels become suspected, nothing but your Reproaches will be able to bring him back to you. If that proves unsuccessful, I advise you to tell him, that you will make such a Noise of it, as will sufficiently revenge your Wrong. Don't be negligent in the Matter, Madam, but above all, don't sacrifice me, since you have not any one Friend more devoted to you, than my self.

Elizabeth de Lucy had bin sensible her self, that the King had not the same Passion for her; but his Intreague with the Countess of Devonshire, had bin carry'd on with so much Secresy, that in spite of all her Endeavours, she had not bin able to learn any thing of it. This Letter of the Earl of Warwick's, all at once unravel'd those Points which had occasion'd to her of late a thousand Torments, tho' in effect, her Case was not much amended by it: Being naturally of a fierce Temper, she had much-a-do to choose the milder Way; But as she had never as yet had any Contest with the King, so she, like a cunning Woman, rightly judged it more proper for her to try the King's Temper, before she discover'd her own; so she retired into her Closet, for Fear of discovering her Sentiments to those that were then making their Court to her.

As for the Earl of Warwick, he had had so little Rest, that, being seized with a violent Pain in the Head, he was not able to rise; and therefore gave Orders that he would see no Body. Soon after, in comes the General Talbot, and his Servants believing that a Person of his Character was excepted from their Masters Orders, they let him go in. The General appear'd to be beyond his Wits at the Earl's Indisposition, which perhaps at another Juncture he would not have bin; but now look'd upon him as his faithful Guide, who was to conduct him through a Country where he, as yet, was unacquainted with the Roads. Since that time I saw you last, my Lord, said he, I have met with a world of Adventures, and you will be perhaps surpris'd as well as my self, how dextrously I got over them: I never thought Love cou'd have made me so Cunning and Designing, and yet you will be oblig'd to own, that it has. Go on, my Lord, as long as you think fit, said the Earl, I can much better hear than answer you.

As I was last Night making my Court to the King, said the General, I found him busy in looking upon some Pictures painted upon Glass: He call'd me as soon as he saw me; Have you any Skill, said he, in this kind of Workmanship? I drew nearer and told him, that the Light of the Candles was not very proper to make one see the true Perfections or Defects of the Painting; These are only Copies, reply'd the King, so there can be no great Loss in them; but among all the rest, I have a peculiar Fancy for this, said he, shewing me the Picture of my Lady Devonshire: The Seller knows not whose it is, without he goes to the Italian Painter to enquire, for whom he sells them. I have too lively an Idea of that lovely Person, continued the General, not to know the Picture, which cast me into such a Confusion, that I could scarce recover my self; the King's Curiosity made me tremble, so I was very careful not to name her, and told him, doubtless it was some Foreigner. Why? reply'd the King, Would you not have her to be an English Lady? It seems to me, added I, that she being so exceeding handsome, she must have appear'd somewhere or other. I assure you, continued he, I have some confused Remembrance to have seen her somewhere or other. Perhaps in France or Holland, said I; but for the most part, Picture-drawers draw their Pictures according to their own Fancies, such as bare some Resemblance to every Body. The King made no Answer, but fixing his Eyes upon the Picture, seem'd to be in a deep study, and so was I. How unfortunate am I! (said I) if I should have such a Rival! A King so lovely in his Person, is more likely to be accepted of than I; Is it possible he should so soon leave his Mistress!

The Earl of Warwick did within himself admire the Oddness of this Adventure, how General Talbot should just come to the King, when this Pourtraiture of the Countess of Devonshire was brought to him. He could not immediately satisfy himself, what made the King pretend he did not know her; since some of those that attended his Person at Windsor, knew he had bin treated with a Collation at her House. But he concluded at last, that the General knowing nothing of that Matter, the King did it to be satisfy'd concerning what he had told him of that General's Passion. Whilst he was ruminating upon all these Matters, the General being amazed to see him so surprized, What is the matter my Lord, said he, Won't you speak to me? I told you before, reply'd the Earl, I was not fit for Company. I am satisfy'd, added the General, provided you will tell me only, what makes you to be so much surprized at what I tell you? The reason is, reply'd the Earl, (having recover'd himself a little) because it seems very odd to me, how any one cou'd offer the Picture of the Countess to sale, since, considering how narrowly she is observ'd, I most question whether they would suffer her Picture to be drawn. Be that as it will, answer'd he, the King bought the Pourtraiture, and charg'd me to carry it into his little Closet, where he intended to keep it, like a Jewel of great Value: Had he taken the least notice of my Countenance, he might easily have discover'd the Disorder I was in. As I heard him give his orders to bring the Limner who had made that Piece to him, I did not question, but that he intended to enquire after the Name of this Fair Lady. There needed no more to make me rise early in the Morning; I went to the Picture-drawer, and having gain'd him into my Interest by a very large Present (and bought the Original, whereof the King has only the Copy) to tell his Majesty, That this Piece was drawn for the Fair Rosamond, the Daughter of the Earl of Clifford, the Famous Mistress of King Henry II. of England; and that, tho' the Drapery was somewhat too Modern for those Times, he should tell him, He thought fit to dress her according to the Mode, that it might sell the better. To be short, by the help of my Instructions, he answer'd all the young Monarch's Questions to a Miracle, whereof I was a Witness, with an Intention to help him out upon occasion. The King would tell me several times, Truly Rosamond was a lovely Lady, I don't wonder that King Henry would never forgive his Wife the Murder of so Charming a Creature. Queen Eleonore, reply'd I, look'd upon her with a Jealous Eye; Yes, said the King, But as for my self I admire her; see what Difference there is betwixt our Sentiments. I made scarce any Answer to this, being afraid, lest, if I shou'd put Rosamond too far in his Head, he might thereby find out the way to the Beautiful Countess of Devonshire; so I endeavour'd to divert him from these Thoughts, by proposing a Match at Tennis betwixt him and the Duke of Gloucester. My only Comfort is, continu'd he, That he thinks no further than Rosamond, and that the Countess of Anglesy, who is very sensible of her Daughter's Beauty, and what Impression it might make upon a young Prince, so much inclined to Tenderness, does keep her up very close, without suffering her to come to Court, and that upon that Score she makes all the World believe she is most frequently indisposed.

But, continu'd he, as for my own Concern, I know how to manage the Matter, and intend to enter into a strict Friendship with the Earl of Devonshire. I told you before, that he stands in need of my Assistance, in a Business of great Consequence; wherein if I should oppose, I might turn the Ballance on which side I please. 'Tis this that has made him entertain me with all imaginable Civilities, and when I went to visit him, he entreated me to visit his Lady in her Apartment. I must confess to you, That her Charming Wit accomplish'd what the Charms of her Person had begun before: I was so far beyond my self, and so bewitch'd, that nothing less than her Husband's Presence, could have hinder'd me from declaring my Love upon the Spot: However, I check'd my Sighs, but with so much Violence, that I was in Danger of being choak'd: Certainly never did a Man of my Age undergo so hard a Novitiat. Alas! I am no more surpriz'd now, that Love should even exert its Vigour among the Tygers and Bears: You may judge now, if I should be condemned to a much longer Silence, whether I would not immediately prefer Death to Life; and at the same time, it is no easie Task for me to get an Opportunity of speaking to her, unless you will do me the Favour to go along with me, and entertain the Earl, whilst I do the same to the Countess.

This offer was too pleasing to the Earl of Warwick to refuse it; for he had made several Trials of seeing her again, and went at divers times to pay her a Visit, but my Lady Anglesey, who was an Experienc'd Overseer, had taken such measures, that setting aside his first Visit, when, to speak the Truth, she surpriz'd them, she had always some Excuse or other at hand to send him away handsomely; so that when the General, who had got a great Ascendant in that Family, desired him to go along with him, he was highly pleas'd with it. The Person he was to act, in amusing the Duke of Devonshire, was indeed not altogether suitable to his Wish; but he would certainly have gone under much worse Conditions, flattering himself, that at least he might by Intervals say somthing or other that would abundantly recompence his Labour.

The General took him in his Coach, because the Earl's Livery should make no shew at the Door, and for the same reason they took none of their Servants along with them; so that coming to the Gate, my Lady Devonshire thought she should see no body but the General, and tho' my Lord was then abroad, her Mother and she looking upon him as no dangerous Person, admitted him without any further Ceremony. The Earl of Warwick was too nearly concern'd, not to take particular notice in what manner his Reception should be made; he found them nettled at his Presence, they both shew'd him a great deal of Civility, but the young Countess would scarce lift up her Eyes to look upon him; and if she hapned to look at her Mother, she cast down immediately her Eyes again towards the Ground and chang'd Colour. There is not the least question, but that the Sprightliness she shewed in his first Visit, being not approved of by my Lady Anglesey, she had given her perhaps a Lesson upon that Account, which proved not very favourable on his side, so that he found himself under no small Uneasiness; but the Pleasure he felt of beholding so Lovely and so Extraordinary a Person, soon got the better of that Veneration which was occasion'd by the serious Looks of the Countess.

The General Talbot was not a little vex'd also to meet with my Lady Anglesey in her Daughter's Apartment; but resolving to make the best however of the Earl of Devonshire's Absence, he told them at his first coming into the Room, That he was come to entertain them with an Affair of Moment, and being placed next to the Countess of Anglesey, he judged he could do no less than enter upon something that might Divert, and make some favourable Impression upon them. The main Subject of his Discourse was such as he lov'd to speak of most: As for Instance, The Famous Siege of Orleans, wherein he was so much concern'd in conjunction with the Earl of Salisbury, where the Maid of Orleans began to signalize her self in so miraculous a manner; as also in the Battel of Patay, where the Earl of Suffolk lost the Day: The General did here Wonders, and they were both taken Prisoners by this Heroine. Neither did the General forget to enlarge upon the taking of Roan by the Count de Dunois; for it was he, who, together with the Duke of Somerset, did most bravely defend that Place, and who was deliver'd up as an Hostage, for the Payment of 50000 Crowns of Gold; but the English would rather have Mortgaged half the Kingdom than left him in the Lurch, whom they knew to be one of their best Generals, and whom they commonly used to stile The English Achilles. These being all matters sufficiently known, and the Countess of Anglesey was better acquainted with them than most People, being a Lady of great Sense, and of an Eminent Rank at Court; however, she would not interrupt him, and as he was very apt to speak very passionately of a thing wherein he had acted so Great and Noble a Part, and that the Presence of the Countess of Devonshire had raised in him an extraordinary Vivivacity, he would sometimes talk so loud, that the Countess of Anglesey, who set next to him, was not a little disturb'd with the Noise.

The Earl of Warwick was sure to improve these Happy Moments, in saying now and then some engaging thing or other, with a low Voice, to the Countess; and therefore under Pretence that he us'd to chaw Tobacco, held his Handkerchief before his Mouth, for fear her Mother should suspect something of the matter. He told her, He Adored her, That he desired nothing else in return, but her Permission to serve her with the same Respect as they do the God's; and, That he hop'd his unfeign'd and dissinteressed Passion deserved something of her Goodness. She pretended not to mind him, but understood very well all he said; and the Earl was so much taken up with whispering, that the Countess of Anglesey spoke more than once to him, without receiving the least Answer: Her Daughter was much concern'd thereat, and tho' perhaps she was not displeas'd with what he told her, she would have bin very sorry to see the Mystery unravell'd. What prov'd an additional Satisfaction to the Earl, was, when he consider'd that he had thus bubbled both the Mother and the General, and thereby had got sufficient Opportunity of declaring his Passion. Their Visit was so long, that it exceeded all the Bounds of your ordinary Visits: The Earl of Devonshire did not come home, nevertheless they made no Motions as if they intended to go; at last, my Lady Anglesey told them, not without some Marks of Uneasiness, It was very late, and perhaps her Son-in-law would Sup in the City. At these Words they arose and went their ways.

The General vex'd to the Heart, at the Ill Success of this Visit, was ready to quarrel with the Earl on account of his sitting next the young Countess, alledging, That since he lov'd her, no Body else ought to pretend to that Place; but this Ill Humour was so far from displeasing his Rival, that he was highly delighted with it.

My Lord of Warwick having discover'd fresh Charms in the Countess, both in reference to her Wit and Person, was afflicted to the Heart at the thoughts of her so Dreadful Overseer, meaning her Mother; and as he saw no Means how to be rid of her, Alas! cry'd he, Alas! Is this the Prospect of my approaching Happiness! I am afraid I shall be expos'd to abundance of Trouble, without the least certainty of being recompenc'd according to my Desires. He was not only perplex'd with his own Misfortune, but also forc'd to bear his full share in that of the General. He came to awaken him at Day break, to tell him several things, which would have prov'd but very indifferent Entertainment to him, had it not bin for the Name of the Countess, which being often intermingled in his Discourse, did somewhat allay his Ill Humour. The General had not bin able to hit another Opportunity to give her a Visit, because the Earl of Devonshire understanding how long they had staid for his coming home, had made him several Visits one after another; and as the General was not very happy at contriving Love Intreagues, so, whatever pains he took to find out a specious Pretence, his Stock was quite exhausted, so that he came to the Earl's in a very bad Humour. I am almost desperate, said he to him, The Earl of Devonshire has bin so often with me, that we have nothing more to say to one another; I have settled his Business much more to his Advantage than he could have done himself, and thereby have dealt unjustly with one of my best Friends; and after all, I don't find all this to be look'd upon as deserving any thing at this Jealous Fellow's Hands; I have a great mind, said he frowningly, to pick a Quarrel with him? For, What Benefit do I reap from the Obligations he owes me? I see his Lady no more, and I protest to you I am ready to be choak'd, and this forc'd Silence makes me lose every thing that might be pleasing to her. To embroil your self with him, said the Earl, would be a very odd Method to hope for a favourable Reception from her: But you being better acquainted with him than I, let us pretend, That we have heard he has a mind to sell his fine Seat near Windsor, and that I am willing to purchase it; let us go to see him together, and, if he is at home, you shall amuse him in Discourse, whilst I will talk to the Countess, and prepare her to give you a favourable Reception; if he be abroad, you may lay hold of this Opportunity your self.

The General highly satisfied with this Expedient, embrac'd it with all his Heart. So they sent to the Earl of Devonshire, to know whether he were at Home, and were told he was not. This happening much to their Wish, they went thither immediately, but found him come home. This News put them almost in to Dispair, the Coach being already within the Gates of the Court-yard, instead of alighting, they began to consult what was best to be done, one was for going straightways into the Countess of Devonshire's Apartment, the other was for going back without seeing any Body; whilst they were thus disputing, the Countesses People look'd at them out of the Windows: At last, the Earl of Warwick so far prevail'd with the General, that he was to alight alone, and make a short Visit, but mention not one Word concerning the Country-seat. The matter was perform'd exactly as they had agreed together, the General staid but a very short time with the Earl of Devonshire, which seem'd to him a Year, and then came back to his Coach almost like a Mad-man. I am almost reduc'd to Dispair, said he to the Earl, I meet with insurmountable Obstacles in my Way; Were they made on purpose to plague me above all other Men? I have always heard them talk of Love as of a Secret Passion, full of Pleasure, without any considerable Intermixture of Pain; I thought it was sufficient to Love, to be belov'd again; to declare ones Love, and to have the Liberty of taking a Walk together; I have known a Thousand who courted their Mistresses without much Difficulty, and a Thousand Mistresses that were not known but by the Name and Merits of their Lovers; but in my Case every thing is very different, I meet every where Dragons in my Way, whom I am forc'd to Combat. I could not speak to her I adore, and my Patience is put to the hardest Tryal that ever was. I have done, my Lord, I am quite tired of this way of Living, so far different from what I was us'd to till now, I am resolv'd to think of nothing but the recovery of my Liberty; this shall be my only Mistress for the future, and I am strangely mistaken, if ever I part from her again.

He would have continued talking with the same Violence, all the remainder of the Day, had they, at their coming to Court, not immediately espi'd the King. The Earl of Warwick quite tired with the General's Complaints, and his own Vexation for not having bin able to see the Countess, made all the hast he could to approach his Majesty, who seeing him alight out of his Coach, ask'd him soon after, with a low Voice, From whence do you come? Sir, reply'd the Earl, your Majesty may easily guess, since you see me with the General. I understand you, said he, But you are in the Wrong, not to endeavour to cure him of his Passion; I know you are Malicious enough to encourage his Love by some Flattering Hopes or other. There is no great occasion for that, said the Earl laughing, he is apt enough to indulge himself in what he thinks a Pleasure to him.

Whilst they were thus talking, the King entring into his Closet, told him, I could not have believed the General would have Embark'd on so weak a Bottom, especially at such an Age as his, and therefore, the other day having a Mind to be satisfy'd in that point, it succeeded according to my Wish: For I had the Picture of the Countess of Devonshire Drawn without her Knowledge, which the Picture-Drawer, (pursuant to my instructions) sent to me to be Sold. The General happening to see it, was much discomposed; but what pleased me best, was, that he did all he could to deceive me. The next day he went to the Limner, unto whom he gave a good Summ of Money, charging him to make me believe it was drawn for Rosamond, King Henry II. Mistress, who has bin dead above 300 years ago. I can't forbear laughing, when I consider how pleased he was, when he believed me to be so easily imposed upon, and I have now no more reason to doubt, that it was his Interest that made him Conceal my Lady Devonshire from me. I know all that your Majesty has told me, said the Earl, The General Proud of having Acted so nice a Part, came on purpose to tell it me, in hopes of being Applauded for his Conduct; and for my part, I was not backwards to shew my self a Man of Complaisance. He will be obliged to you for it, as long as he lives, reply'd the King. But you came from the Countesses, Pray what News there? She was invisible to us, reply'd the Earl, She did not appear; but her Husband did. The General was ready to Quarrel with him, because he had so little Breeding to be at Home, when he thought he had bin abroad.

The King return'd no answer to the Earl, but after pondering a little upon the Matter, at last told him, You see how all my Mirth is changed at once into Sadness, I am uneasie at what the General is likely to suffer, when he comes to be acquainted with the Intreague betwixt the Countess of Devonshire and I. Then you are happy Sir, cry'd the Earl. No, hitherto I live only on Hopes, reply'd he, and were it not for Albine, who gives me some Comfort, I would certainly act above-board with my Mistress; For what is it I have to fear, and after all, how do I know whether her Governess does not deceive me? Your Majesty is above all this, said the Earl; But consider, whether it be not the hight of Pleasure to a Heart sensible of the Nicities so Love, to know, that you are perhaps the only Monarch in the World whose Love is unreveal'd? Yes, answer'd the King, I should extreamly delight in it, and relish this kind of Mystery in its utmost perfection, were I happy. But let us change the Theme: I am perhaps the only Monarch, who has Patience enough to Sigh so long without knowing more of his Destiny than I do; I suffer my self to be guided by an Old Woman, I am afraid of disobliging the Countess, and suffer a great deal in hopes of one happy day. 'Tis true added he, This day is not far off; for I am to send the Earls of Anglesey and Devonshire to York, though under a slender pretence, their Business being to inform themselves concerning some differences arose in those parts, whereof they are to give me an account. Probably your Majesty, said the Earl, will visit the Countess without any further Precaution, so soon as they are gone; I see only one Obstacle in the way, that is my Lady Anglesey, who keeps a very watchful Eye over her Daughter, but we must give her a Dose of Opium. You divert your self at your own Pleasure, reply'd the King; you may be assured I am not acquainted with the Temper of that Old Dragon; but I have contrived the Matter thus with Albine, The same Night I have sent the Father and Husband to York, I am to come to a little Gate leading into the Garden, and in disguise, and so must you. How! Sir, said the Earl, will your Majesty take me for your Companion, perhaps to divert the good Old Governess? Much thereabouts, said the King; For you must knock at the Great Gate in disguise, and ask to speak with her; so soon as she comes to you, you are to tell her, your Nephew has kill'd a Gentleman in a Duel, they are in search after him, he is hard by, and desire you would shelter him here only for one Night; He intends to go aboard a Ship before day-light, and you will Conduct him safely into the Netherlands. Hereupon, the Old Woman is to run Mumbling to the Countess of Anglesey, to beg her to suffer her Nephew to come into the House; and if she can get the Key of the little Gate, I am to go up by a Private Pair of Stairs to the Countesses Apartment. But, supposing her Mother should refuse to let you come in Sir, what will you do then, said the Earl? O, she certainly will, for she loves Albine, and will certainly pity her Case.

The King having spoken these Words, went immediately into his Bed-Chamber, and the Earl to his House; but so pierced with Pain and Vexation, that he threw himself upon his Bed, accusing his ill Destiny, and upbraiding himself for having delay'd so long to bring over Albine into his Interest. He could likewise not guess at the cause of Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy's Silence, all which joyn'd together, made him imagine himself the most Unfortunate of any Man Living. I shall never know, cry'd he, the utmost extent of my Disgrace: 'Tis my Master that is the cause thereof, who has pitch'd upon me for his Confident, and will have me go along with him to a Place, where I am not able to see him without dying upon the Spot. What! must I leave him at the Countesses, after I have taken all the Pains that possibly I can to get him Admittance? I would sooner throw my self into the Thames. But, after all, won't it be better to be there present; because I flatter my self, that some Accident or other may thwart the happy success of this Interview. Thus the Earl Tormented himself, sometimes sitting, sometimes arising; but all this while, so overwhelm'd and entangled in Grief, that he knew not what Resolution to take: His Great Mind not used to Buckle, was not so much afflicted with having the King for his Rival, as with the Tenderness he supposed the Countess had for this Young Monarch. O! your Beautiful Eyes, cry'd he, What was it you would fain have told me at the very first time I saw you? What did you mean the other day, by those piercing Darts, so full of Sprightliness and Tenderness? Oh! why would not you cast your angry looks upon me, when I told you that it was you alone I adored? I should be apt to believe, continued he, that she hearkned to me for no other reason, than to Sacrifice me to the King, and to tell him the wole Matter; but she has kept the Secret: Tohwhat purpose is all this Mysterious Contrivance! What can be the reason she should be Careful of me of one side, when she Stabs me on the other? And supposing I should bring over Albine to my Interest, what Benefit shall I Reap by it, since her Mistress loving the King so well as she does, she will find out means to see him in Private? Thus he pass'd half the Night, without coming to any fix'd Resolution; when on a sudden, something came into his Head that afforded him some fresh Hopes, and a little Comfort: He look'd upon the Success thereof, as a kind of a Miracle which might produce a considerable change in his present afflicted Condition, and his Heart, which seldom used to despair, was willing to flatter it self with good Success.

So, without troubling himself for the present, with the Concerns of the Family of my Lady Devonshire, he did not oppose the going of the Father and Husband to York; but immediately went to see Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy. How, Madam, said he, since you have thought fit to Sacrifice your Reputation in passing for the King's Mistress, will you suffer with Patience to see him snatch'd away from you? Your Conquest will be attended with nothing but Shame at this rate. 'Tis this Night, Madam, That is to decide your Fate; The King has not bin able hitherto to entertain the Countess of Devonshire in Private, but now every thing is prepared for his secret entrance there: Will you let this go on with the same Tranquility wherewith you have neglected my first Council? My Lord, said she, I have not bin insensible of the Misfortune that threatned me; I flatter'd my self, that my Dissatisfaction, and my Tenderness, might efface my Rival out of that Heart, whereof I once had the absolute Possession; I staid for some favourable opportunity of disclosing my self to the King: But since the Case is so pressing, I must send to desire him to make me a Visit, that I might load him with Reproaches. That I may Cry, and that I may Threaten, I will kill my self before his Face, if he leaves me. Nothing can be better, Madam, said the Earl; but I beg you, let me but see you Act one Part of this Comedy, that either I may Applaud or Correct you; for you know I am a Critick at Plays. No, no, my Lord, cry'd she, This is no matter of diversion to me, I never was so much Concern'd at any thing in all my Life; But, said she, after having paused a while, I know not how the King came to the Knowledge of the Countess, nor how it came to pass that she lov'd him so; you must instruct me in this Point. The Earl approving her Proposition, gave her an account of his Hunting at Windsor, and at the same time, charg'd her, not to mention any thing of this Evening's Meeting, because the King would certainly charge him with the discovery thereof, having Communicated the Secret to no body else but himself.

There was no great occasion for the Earl of Warwick to encourage Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, she was too nearly concerned in the Matter, not to make use of all her Arms; and she resolv'd to take all the advantages she could. Her Nght Gown was of Gold and Blue Silk, Trimm'd at the Edges with precious Stones; Her Head was carelesly dress'd, without hiding the Lustre of her Coal-black Hair; She wore the King's Picture on one of her Arms, and in short, consulted her Looking Glass so well, that she had never appear'd more Beautiful in all her Life. Having sent a Messenger to the King, to desire him to make her a Visit, He did not fail to come accordingly; for no Man could have paid her more Respect than he did; and notwithstanding his new Passion, she had an almost uncontroulable Ascendant over him. He was not a little disturb'd at the earnest Message she sent him, and turning towards the Earl of Warwick, What does she want with me, said he, can't you guess? Sir, answered the Earl, my Guess is, That she that is a Mistress of so Young and Handsome a King, as you are, does desire nothing more than to see him, to please him, and to take care of a Heart, in the Possession whereof consists the Felicity of her Life: For the rest, I can't tell whether she has any other Business, which has obliged her to send this Compliment to your Majesty. I will go thither, and pass away half an hour, said the King; for I am resolved that nothing shall come in my way, to hinder this Nights Appointment. The Earl being highly dissatisfy'd at these Words, to detain the King the longer, put him in mind, that he had promised to give Audience to the Spanish Ambassadour, who was ready to come to Court, and that he had better to pay his Visit to the Young Elizabeth after the Audience was over.

Accordingly, the King delay'd his Visit; but no sooner was the Ambassador gone, but he went to his Mistress, whom he found Singing in a Melancholly Tone. So soon as she saw the King, she left off; but the King desir'd her to go on: As the Swan, said she, near the Banks of the River Semander, bemoans his Death by his last Song, so I foretell mine this day; yes, Sir, I foretell it, and reproach you with being the Cause thereof. He Blush'd at these Words, and gave her a Tender look; What is it, said he, you mean, to reproach me thus undeservedly? She then laid open the Matter to him with Tears in her Eyes. The King surpriz'd to see her so well acquainted with the whole Matter, stood it out nevertheless most Boldly, telling her, That nothing in the World was more False; That he had never seen the Countess of Devonshire, except for one Moment at her own House, whilst he was at Windsor; and that ever since that time, he had not so much as ever thought of her; That, if it were true, that he had bin so far struck with her Beauty as she imagin'd, it would perhaps not have proved impossible for him to have seen her again; But his Opinion was, that some Body or other had contrived to make her kill her self with her own Weapons; because they knew he was a declared Enemy against such like Inquisitive Practices. The Marchioness touch'd to the Heart to see him stand it out so stifly to conceal his Infidelity, began to be in a most Furious Rage, and would not suffer him to stir out of the Room; and so soon as he began to talk of going, made most doleful Lamentations and Outcry's, declaring she would kill her self before his Face. As he knew very well, that my Lord Anglesey's and Devonshire's Journey would take up some days, he considered that there would be no great difference in his Enjoyment, if he deferr'd to see the Countess of Devonshire till the next Night; so, that he did not part with Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy till very late, which appeas'd her Anger a little for the present; and the Earl of Warwick, very inquisitive after every thing that was Transacted there, understanding that the King had ordered his Supper to be served up there, did not question, but that the Neck of the other Intreague was broken, at least for that Night.

Upon this surmize, he disguises himself as much as possible he could, and taking along with him Mr. Berincour, one of his Gentlemen, who for a considerable time past had bin his Confident in his Nocturnal Rambles, tells him the whole Concern, and so trusting to his good Fortune, away he goes to the little Gate of the Garden of the Countess of Anglesey, and immediately sends Berincour to speak to Albine. The Action he was upon, was so full of Temerity, that he himself durst not make a due Reflection upon the danger that might attend it. He was to deceive the Young Countess in Personating the King; when at the same time, he knew not the Place of their Appointment, and whether it were to be by the light, or in the dark; He could not but dread every thing from his Master, if the thing should come to his Knowledge; Besides a Thousand unforeseen Accidents, as dangerous in their Consequences as any of the rest. But his Natural Intrepidity, and his Love making him consider all these Dangers, for no other end than to outbrave them; he went on as fast as he could, without hesitating upon the Matter: So soon as he was come near the Garden, he stopt a little to stay for Berincour's return from Albine, who had managed every thing with so much Dexterity, that the Earl heard her coming much sooner than he could or durst have expected, and turning a Key a Thousand times in the Lock, without being able to unlock it. Albine never made use of that Key and now was so much discomposed at this Accident, that she did not know what to do, all the Pains she took to open the Lock proving to no purpose, she at last broke it; She was then forced to tell him through a Cranny of the Door, that it was impossible for her to open it being in the dark and not daring to fetch a light; And that, for this time, she knew not what could further be done. The Earl, almost reduced to Dispair considering, that in case he lost this Opportunity he could not meet with another so suitable to his Purpose, since the King's coming in Person would soon unfold the riddle; and understanding what had happened, would bear him as much ill will, as if he actually entertain'd the Countess.

He was very Tall and Large, the Wall was none of the highest, and he had observed that day, when he found my Lady Devonshire in the Grotto, that there were some Nails fastned into it; so he got upon the Shoulders of his Gentleman, who being none of the least, he scrambled over the Top of the Wall, though not without a good many scratches. He no sooner got into the Garden, but he emptied his Pockets that were full of Gold, desiring Albine, with a Gentile Air, to keep them for him; She believing him to be the King, was very ready to accept them, though at the same time, she was under no small apprehension, lest this Intrigue, if discovered, might prove fatal to some body or other, and upon that score, was so far overwhelm'd with Thoughts, that, had she seen the Earl, she would scarce have known him. He went along with her to a Private pair of Stairs, when the Old Gentlewoman remaining below, told him, He would find my Lady Devonshire in a Room above. He was considering with himself, how to justifie this Treachery against the King, and her self, when approaching to a Door, some body took him by the Hand, he follow'd softly into a Chamber, where, without giving him leisure to speak, he was told, What will you think of me, my Lord, I dare not as much as ask it? The Steps I now make, ought to appear to you so Criminal, that I am perhaps upon the point of losing all that Esteem you gave me such assurances of, when you came hither along with the General Talbot. The Earl of Warwick was surprized to such a degree, at what he heard, as to remain under the greatest uncertainty, what answer to give: By what Accident, said he, should this Person know, that I am not the King? For, though she does not see me, she is too well inform'd of the whole Matter, thus to mistake me. Is this a Snare wherein to catch me? Am I with my Charming Countess, or with some body else that intends to Trap me? He had not much time to consider of his present Circumstances, because the Lady expected his Answer, in order to continue their Conversation. I am so far confounded at this Excess of my good Fortune, said he to her, that instead of entertaining any Thoughts that might be injurious to you, I find my Tenderness and Acknowledgment encreased to such a degree, as is impossible to be express'd. However, Madam, in the midst of all my Happiness, I must confess to you, that I want the Pleasure of seeing you, which I beg of you to afford me. With all my Heart, reply'd she, I will go and fetch a light. She went out to call Albine, who trembling for fear, had no power to come up, but had stood all this while at the Bottom of the Stairs, and was now ready to run out of her Wits, when she was ordered to bring up a Torch; For now she thought her self lost for ever, the reason was this:

You must know, that at the first Visit the Earl of Warwick made to the Countess of Devonshire, that fatal Star, which sometimes enforces a Heart, to enter upon an Amorous Engagement for the remainder of ones Life, had such a Powerful Influence upon hers, that she did not take all the necessary Precautions to defend her self against that Destiny which we ought to resist with all our Might. On the contrary, she Cherish'd her Passion, and as she had her Mind wholly taken up with the Earl, she told Albine, she would have no body speak to her of the King. This old Governess, ready to run distracted at the Thoughts to lose all at once, the Benefit of such Rich Presents, took care not to contradict her Mistress, judging that this would prove a means to unfold a secret, she intended to make her self Mistress of, for her own Benefit. Your Aversion to the King, said she, is not the effect of your Considerations, Madam, but of something else, that pleases you; Pray, put an entire Confidence in me, I will never misuse it, or give you any occasion of repenting. Alas! reply'd the Young Countess, of what an easie Temper am I? Albine, hear me with Patience; for I shall ease my self a little when I tell you, that I am Charm'd with the Deserts and Wit of the Earl of Warwick. As I am resolved never to enter into an Amorous Engagement with him, I will shun him with all my Power, making my Duty the only Rule of my Conduct; so I am prepared to undergo the most cruel Torments that can be; Ah! what Comfort it is, for one to discharge ones whole Mind to an Affectionate and Faithful Friend! I entreat you to let the King know, how uneasie my Family is upon his Account, and that I beg him, not to entertain any further Thoughts of me; This being the only Favour I request at his Hands, in recompence for all the Respect I bear him.

Albine was at a stand what to do, since to break off an Intrigue she judged she had almost brought to its Period, was altogether against her Interest. She had a Nephew, who being a sensible Fellow, she made him a Partner in the secret; It was then agreed betwixt them, that nothing should be told to the King, concerning the Countesses indifferency for him; and that the better to conceal the Matter, they were to open her Letters written to him, and in lieu thereof, send some of their own making, Written in her own Name. Though this was a very hazardous Project, yet was it well relish'd by Albine, who was prolonging this Intrigue at any rate. But as Albine knew very well the King's Impatience to see the Countess, and her Aversion to such an Interview, she pitch'd upon the following Stratagem: Madam, said she to her, if you will preserve the Earl of Warwick from Destruction, you must your self explain your Mind to him; For, flattering himself, that his Addresses, his Passion and Time, will produce in you some favourable Sentiments for him, this makes him commit every day a Thousand Extravagancies, to the •uin of his Fortune, and of your Reputation? You are •ell enough acquainted with my Lord Devonshire's Temper, so soon as he gets the least discovery that the Earl is in Love with you, he will certainly believe •hat you love him also, and therefore I advise you, to see the Earl, and to declare to him, that his Hopes are very ill Grounded. Oh! Albine, said the Countess, what advice is that you give me, after I have dis •…osed to you the deplorable State of my Heart? Is •his the way to cure me, to have an Interview with so •ovely an Enemy? No, no, let what Fate will at •end him, 'tis better than to run the Risque of seeing him; my Eyes would certainly contradict my Words, and what a Shame would it be for me to betray my own Infirmities? 'Tis enough, that I am sensible of them my self, and therefore ought to take all possible precautions against them. But, Madam, reply'd this dangerous Woman, consider what an Injury it would be to him, if the King should take an Aversion against him, and my Lord Devonshire against you? And why should he hate me, return'd she with an Air full of Sweetness? Am I Mistress of my own Inclinations? Which have Cap •…vated my Heart, in spite of all the Power I have? Am •ot I rather to be pity'd than blamed? No, Madam, continued the Old Governess, you would not deserve any body's Pity, if you refuse a Moments Interview to •he Earl of Warwick, to tell him your self, that he •…atters himself with vain hopes, and that he ought the sooner the better check his Passion; But it may be, by that time he has forgot you, you will continue still to •emember him. O! kind Heavens, cry'd the Countess with Tears in her Eyes! I am afraid, the Remedy you prescribe has a mixture of Poison in it: Nevertheless, continued she, because thou shalt have no Reason to upbraid me upon that Score, I will spend a quarter of an hour in an Interview with him. And 〈◊〉 was upon this Expression, the old Governess told the King, he might come to see the Countess.

She was under no small uneasiness, when she began to reflect upon the Success of this Appointment, how the King would relish the Matter, to be brought thither under the Notion of being the Earl of Warwick, and how the Countess would dispence with this Disappointment▪ when she discovered the Deceit, she look'd upon it, as one of the most difficult Points that had been manag'd for some Ages; But, after all, she remain'd resolute to venture at all, flattering her self, that perhaps the whole Intrigue might not be immediately unfolded; or that at the worst, her Lady could not be very angry at seeing so tender and Amiable a King, instead of the Earl of Warwick.

Notwithstanding all this, when the Countess call'd for Light, she stood amazed like one struck dead; However, having soon recover'd her self, resolved, without any more to do, to unfold the whole Riddle; so throwing her self at the Countesses Feet, and holding her by her Night Gown, she, with a Thousand Imprecations, ask'd her Pardon, for the Innocent Deceit she had put upon her; saving, It was owing to nothing, but to her Z••… and Affection, to see her placed in so Eminent a Station above the rest: She then told her, trembling, That it was not the Earl of Warwick that stay'd 〈◊〉 her in the Room, but the King who had continued constant in his Love to her. This put my Lady Devonshire into such a Passion, that she told Albine, S•• would never forgive, but hate her as long as she lived▪ and so, without suffering her to say one Word more, away she flung into another Room, and shut the Door after her.

The Earl of VVarwick was much surprized, to find the same Person that spoke to him, not to come again; and he durst not go in search after her, for fear of meeting some Body else, than what he look'd for; whilst he was thus waiting for the Issue with much impatience he heard something coming near him, which said with a low Voice, Sir, I am almost in Despair, my Lady Devonshire is so Capricious, that she won't come here again; What have I done, said he, she should shun to see me? Her Head is full of Chimera's, added that Person, concerning your Passion for Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy; if your Majesty will be pleased to take my Advice, I would go out of the Garden immediately, and leave the rest to my Management, to persuade her into a more Complaisant Humour. The Earl being a Person of singular vivacity of Wit, immediately discovered the Bottom of the Intrigue; so he told Albine, that he lov'd the Countess too Passionately, to give her as much as one Moments uneasiness, and that he would desire her to deliver a Billet in his behalf to the Countess, desiring at the same time, some Light, Pens, Ink and Paper, and that as soon as he had Written, he would leave the Room. The old Governess much pleased with the •opes of his speedy departure, went to fetch a light; But guess at her Surprize when in lieu of the King, whom she expected to meet, she saw it was the Earl of Warwick; she stood stupify'd like a Stone, without any Motion, except of her Eyes and Mouth, but without being able to utter one Word: I am sensible, Albine, of the whole Matter, said he, though I want time to explain my self at this Juncture; Pray find out a way for me to see your Mistress; And I will make Peace both for my self and you. Follow me, my Lord, said she, but go softly, I hope there is one Door or other left unlock'd, for us to enter: Nor was it long before they found a private Door, which leading into a Wardrobe, they went forwards, and surprized my Lady Devonshire, all melting in Tears, and lying upon a Couch. The Earl threw himself at her Feet, before she was sensible any body was near her; Is it possible, said he, my Divine Countess, I should be so unfortunate as to see you shun me? All these hazards I expose my self to, in coming hither, should not they be look'd upon as the true effects of my Passion? How! cry'd she, You must come along with the King; Oh! I little thought, my Lord, you would have acted his Confident here? Though I am not quite ignorant, Madam, reply'd the Earl, of his Sentiments for you, yet I declare to you, I should have expired with Grief, before I could come along with him: No, Madam, I am alone, and come for no other reason, than to seek your Aid I stand so much in need of, to support my self under those Pains which are inseparable Attendants of an unfortunate Passion. I neither will, nor can afford you any help, my Lord, said the Countess, neither did I give my Consent of seeing you upon any other Account, but to clear you at once of those flattering Conceptions, you have taken in respect to me. Go on Madam, make an end at once, reply'd he, Stab me to the Heart, here is my Sword; and since I have bin so bold as to lift up my Eyes to adore you, don't refuse me the Grace of being Punish'd by your own Hands: But if your Goodness would afford me some few Moments to enter upon my Justification, I could, Madam, make you sensible of the sincerity of my Passion. Do you remember, my Lord, said she, interrupting him, that you talk to the Countess of Devonshire, who can't be innocent as long as she hears you talk at that rate? Then cease for ever to love me, and to tell me that you do; for I can make you no other returns, but those of Ingratitude? Oh! Madam, cry'd the Earl, I know too well, that I have flattered my self, you can admit of no Slaves under the Degree of Kings: You judge not rightly of my Inclinations, answer'd the Countess, since it is my Duty that engages me; and I dare be so frank as to tell you, That were I in a Condition to make my Choice betwixt the King and you, my Lord, you shou'd have no Reason of Complaint; but after all, don't presume upon this account, for no body will reap the least Benefit by it. These Words occasion'd an inexpressible Confusion in the Earl, in spite of those few Glimpses of Hopes he conceived in some of her Expressions, in entertaining him at so late an Hour, and in so secret a manner; but she still intreated him to desist, and not to disturb her Repose by such Addresses, for which she should think her self but little obliged to him. The Earl answered to every Particular with so much Respect and Passion, that at last she could not refrain from telling him, with a very melancholy Air: Oh! my Lord, How came I to know you! What a strange Fatality to happen to a young Person, who always led a retired Life! Alas! Madam, permit me, said he, to bear some Share in your solitude, I should think my self too Happy; and it should be the only Endeavour of my Life, and all my Care, to allay the Hardships of your Retiredness by a Thousand complaisant Actions. Oh God! reply'd she, The Comfort you propose is too full of Danger; you must shun me, my Lord, and I must shun you.

The Earl was so much surprized with Admiration at a Thousand other pretty things she told him, that the time pass'd away very fast; and as, according to the old Proverb, A Lover's Watch goes seldom exact; so, had it not bin for Albine they had scarce parted at yet, tho' it was already break of Day. The Earl would have given any thing in the World, to have given enjoy'd the Charming Company of the Fair Countess for a few Hours longer; but no time was to be lost, for fear of being overheard at going away; so he parted, but with so much Grief and Vexation, as is scarce to be express'd.

Berincour stai'd, for the Earl's coming, under the Wall, but there was no occasion for his helping him over it, as he was oblig'd to do before, Albine who attended him, having found Means by this time to open the little Door; and being by his great Promises entirely engaged in his Interest, she told him, She would, by representing to the King the Indifferency of the Countess for his Person, endeavour to Cure him of a Passion which hath a much greater share of Inconveniencies than Pleasure in it.

My Lord Warwick now overjoy'd at his Interview with my Lady Devonshire, goes home, to bestow the best part of the Night in indulging his Fancy with the fresh Remembrance of so Charming a Person. He was scarce fall'n a sleep, when very early in the Morning one of his Servants came in, to tell him, that the General must of Necessity speak with him; immediately after he enters the Room, with so much gaiety in his Countenance and Actions, that the Earl, who knew him always to be of a grave Deportment, not knowing what to make of it, look'd stedfast at him, not without some Signs of Surprize; and, the more he observed the General to take notice of it, the more he appear'd to be pleased at it. What an Alteration! cry'd the Earl: What is the Matter, my Lord? May one be permitted to know some Part of your Secrets? Ah! my Dear, my Lord, said he, embracing him; you see here before you the most Happy Man in the World. Look stedfastly upon me: For, without Vanity, there is not a Man now living up on Earth who can match my Good Fortune. I understand you, reply'd the Earl, you have found out a Cure for that troublesome Passion, which so lately play'd the Tyrant over your Heart; A Cure, do you say? reply'd the General abruptly, I would rather choose to die; you may take my Word for it, I am more Love-sick than ever I was; Then you have made some considerable Advances, said he, towards the Heart of the Countess of Devonshire; Oh! said the General, there you have hit it right: Pray mind how the Intrigue was carry'd on.

The •imner, who sold me the Picture of this Lady, judging by the great Value he saw me put upon it, and by the Instructions I gave him to persuade the King that it was the Fair Rosamond's Picture, that all these things were not done without very weighty Reasons on my side; and that therefore my Heart bore great share in all these Assiduities, at last began to be satisfy'd I was in Love with the Countess of Devonshire. As he was not ignorant, of how difficult an access she was, so he proposed to me the removing of these Obstacles, which otherwise might prevent my having an Interview with her. I need not tell you whether I was ready to embrace his Offer, or whether I engaged him further into my Interest, by very large Presents; 'tis enough to let you know, that this last Night, when it was pitch dark, he conducted me into the Lady Anglesey's Garden, and from thence into a Grotto by the help of some Lights: Here I beheld the Countess with a more Beautiful Lustre than the Sun it self that gives us Light; she shew'd a Thousand engaging Complaisances for me, and at last ask'd me for my large Diamond, which she put upon her Finger, and in lieu thereof presented me with this small Turquoise cut in the Shape of a Heart, a thing I shall always look upon inestimable.

Don't you wonder, continued he, at the oddness of Chance, how that things that seem to be sometimes at the greatest distance from our Hopes, are brought to pass by such unexpected Means? For, pray my Lord, consider, Who could have imagined, that a little Picture-drawer, should have the Management of a Person that is the Wonder of our Age? I ask'd him, How it possibly could happen so? He told me frankly, that in all Probability she would not have admitted him for her Confident, had she bin at Liberty to choose another: But that, he having work'd for a considerable time for my Lady Anglesey, he was consider'd in the Family as one of their old Domesticks, and had the Liberty of talking with the Countess, without being in the least suspected by any: That considering how lavishly I paid for the Picture, it came into his Head, I must needs be in Love with her: That he took the Boldness to discover his Opinion concerning me to the Countess, who fetching a deep Sigh, told him Alas! I am not so Happy, he thinks of no other Passion than what relates to Glory. That he thereupon recall•d to her Remembrance the Amours of Mars and Venus, and Hercules and Omphale. Upon which she reply'd, What you tell me are nothing but Fables. Now judge, my Lord, added the General, what an infinite Pleasure such an unexpected Accident must cause within me; all my Hopes were before this confin'd to no more than to adore, without displeasing her; but now, I think, I dare promise my self, I am not hated by this Beautiful Lady.

The Earl of Warwick could hold no longer, but burst out a laughing, a thing he would not have bin fond of at another time, but that he had bin with the Countess the same Night. I find, said the General, (without giving him leasure to speak) by your Mirth, you are overjoy'd at my Good Fortune. I am, reply'd he, to such a degree, that I should be less sensible of my own. The General embracing him, My Lord, said he, I believe my self the only Man in the World, who has so Good a Master, so Beautiful a Mistress, and so Tender a Friend. The Earl was ready to burst, to keep himself from laughing at the General's Fancy, of being belov'd by the Countess, and at his being thus impos'd upon by the Limner. This made him most seriously reflect upon the Frailties even of the greatest Men in the World, when once they are seiz'd with a violent Passion; and had his own, for my Lady Devonshire, not got quite the Ascendant over him, he would have abjur'd and vow'd, not to engage in it as long as he liv'd. I don't question, my Lord, said he to the General, that by the Assistance of this Limner, you will have frequent Opportunities of seeing the Countess? This is so great a Blessing, reply'd he, that were it only in my Power, I would not miss a Day of seeing her: But she is oblig'd to act with so much Precaution, that I dare not urge that point too far, for fear her Complaisance should turn to her great Prejudice. Some other Discourse pass'd betwixt them, all relating to the same Subject. Then the General took his Leave, and the Earl got out of Bed, in order to pay, forthwith, a Visit to Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, being very impatient to know the Success of the King's Visit from her own Mouth.

She was still in Bed, but he had immediate Access, because he visited her frequently, and that often by the King's Order. Well, Madam! said he, Have you got the Victory? Was it possible he should hold out against such powerful Charms as yours? Have you still a Rival in Being? Oh! my Lord, cry'd she, you can't imagine to what a degree the King loves her; I know too much of it, not to be sensible of every thing, and not to have penetrated in the very depth of his Heart; What is it I have not discovered there? I was ready to run distracted; but barbarous Man as he is, if my Lameutations at certain Intervals touch'd his Heart, the Idea of my Lady Devonshire return'd with such an irresistable Power, that in his very Eyes I could read his secret Anger, if not his Hatred against me: But, after all, I would not have him imagine, that I will tamely fall a Sacrifice to him, but am resolved to venture at every thing, my Despair suggests to me. How, Madam! said the Earl, and could not you get from him as much as one positive Assurance, that he would love nothing but you? So far from it, said she, that he would not as much as own his Passion; but conceal'd it to the utmost, for fear I should give disturbance to a Person that is so dear to him. He is not much in the wrong on't, answer'd the Earl smiling, you seem to me not the fittest Person to be entrusted therewith. I am a going to write a •etter to him, said she, and I will desire you to deliver it. No said he, don't let him know of my coming here▪ for as the least Accident might 〈…〉 so it would diserable 〈…〉 Well, 〈…〉 by another Person; 〈…〉 present when it is given to the 〈…〉 and writ the following Lines:

IS it possible it should 〈◊〉 so 〈◊〉, and your Majesty has not as yet 〈…〉 Messenger, to know at what time I died last Night? Certain it is, that and Body else but my self would have dy'd of Grief, tho' I am so 〈…〉 as to survive it: I will flatter my self, that 〈◊〉 serves me, to taste the Pleasure of Revenge. Yes, Sir, I am not ignorant of the Means to punish the Person, that robbs me of your Heart, a Loss that is irrepairable to me; which, since it has happened, I put not the least Value upon my Life: My Rival then must dread the utmost Efforts of my Despair, and your Majesty blame himself for ever, for having bin the Occasion thereof.

The Earl of Warwick was no sooner come to Court, but passing by the King's Closet, he was call'd in, and his Majesty senting himself in an Elbow-chair, told him, Have you heard nothing, of the pretty Parts the young Elizabeth acted before me? No, reply'd the Earl, I know nothing of it. I have nothing, reply'd the King, but Reproaches, Crys, Lamentations and Violence: I would above all things fain know, who is her Counsel-giver; since I can't imagine who should think it his Business, to tell her of my being in Love with the Countess of Devonshire? and what is more, who it is that knows it? Albine understands her own Interests better, than to betray this Intrigue and her self; and the young Lady can't be so simple, to divulge it: Who then cou'd this be! I hope, Sir, said the Earl, your Majesty does not suspect me? No; said the King, tho' in Love-Concerns you are none of the most 〈…〉 at least, reply'd the Earl, I was so in this. I tell you again, continued the King, I don't mean you. •ut am extreamly vex'd to see this young Woman in so dismal a Condition; I am afraid she will not outlive it. The Earl, who had a mind to dive into the true Sentiments of his Master, told him with a Smile, I am apt to believe your Majesty ought not to be much afflicted, if she should die, since you loving another, she will be pestering you continually with a Thomsand Reprouches: In my Opinion, nothing is more troublesome, than to please Two Mistresses. 'Tis true, reply'd the King, as my Passion is always sincere, so I shall find it troublesome enough; but as for you, who are the greatest Dissembler in the Kingdom, you would be able to have a Dozen or two at once, and impose upon them all, so that none of them should be the wiser for it. He had scarce spoken these Words, when Mrs. Lucy's Billet being deliver'd to him, he first perus'd it by himself; but after a little pausing upon the matter, read it aloud. There is a young Lady in a violent Passion, said the King, What is your Opinion of her? The Earl, who saw in his Eyes some infallible Marks and Returns of his Tenderness for her, told him, Sir, I hope, if she continues in the same Humour, she will scarce live till Night. What is it, said the King, she would have! she frames a world of Chimeras, on purpose to plague her self; Has she observ'd me less Passionate, less Generous, or less frank in my Addresses! What is it makes her believe I am in Love with another! Go you and pay her a Visit; assure her, in my behalf, that if she loses me, it is by reason of her Mistrust; and to be short, endeavour to make her as easie as possibly you can. But, Sir, said the Earl, if you are so much delighted in that new Passion you have embrac'd, Why will you trouble your self with another? Were it not much better to leave her to her own Despair? Go, said the King, and perform what I ordered you to do.

My Lord of Warwick rejoic'd to the Heart, at this Commission, went straight to Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy's, unto whom having given a full account of all that had pass'd betwixt them, they soon agreed upon what Answer he was to return to the King. He in the mean while diverting his Thoughts with Walking in St. James's Park; the Earl soon perceived him advancing a great pace, without talking to any Body; but no sooner espi'd the Earl, when he ask'd him, How does this young Extravagant Lady do? Sir, said he, she appear'd to me not at all disturb'd: We soon entred upon the Point of the Affections and Goodness you had for her Person, and I conjured her, to believe you were the same now, without the least Change: That these Insinuations proceeded from her Enemies, who infused false Notions into her, on purpose to disturb her Repose, possibly thereby to check your Passion for her: That therefore she ought to be upon her Guard, and not to be imposed upon at that rate. She told me with much unconcernedness, That, to her certain knowledge, she was inform'd of all the Circumstances of the whole Intrigue, that she flatter'd her self your Majesty would have made a sincere Return to her; but now she could hope for nothing, her Resolution was fix'd; and so, continued he, she turn'd away, and would not answer me one Word more, to whatever I could say; so, after having staid for sometime longer, I went my ways: But as I was going along her Gallery, which is pretty dark, I felt something pull me back, and looking backwards, found it to be Eleenor, with Tears in her Eyes. My Lord, said she, my Mistress has certainly some sinister Designs in her Head, she intends to put an End to her Life; she ord'red me to get her some Opium, but to mention it to no Body. How! cry'd the King, Do you think she will be so foolish as to poison her self. Do you question it, Sir? said the Earl, Is not your Majesty sufficiently acquainted with the Temper of the English Women, who despise Death as much as those Illustrious Roman Ladies that dy'd by their own Hands without the least Regret or Fear.

I must confess to you, said the King, with a very Melancholly Air, I am not proof against this Tryal, I love her, and she is desperate, What must I do in this case? Sir, reply'd the Earl, you must love her absolutely, whom you love best, and let the other perish, or do as well as she can or will. Oh! I can't do that, cry'd the King, and so leaning against a Tree, continued in a deep study for sometime till he who us'd to receive the Countess of Devonshire's Letters, presented one to him. At the sight of this dear Character recovering himself, he open'd the Pacquet with much Precipitation, but found nothing therein that pleas'd him; for she told him (as has been agreed upon betwixt her and Albine) That the Countess of Anglesey had made her a Bed-chamber, so near to her own, that they must pass through the last into the first: And that, since she must be lost for ever, if this Intrigue should be known in the Family, she begg'd him, not to disturb her Repose, by doing an Action, the Noise whereof, must needs cost her infinite Vexation and Troubles: And that he would be pleased to stay for a more favourable Conjuncture.

The Stile of this Letter being very different from that of the preceeding ones, put the King actually in a Passion, he tore it to pieces, saying, She deserved not the Respect he had always shewn her, and that the whole savouring very much of a Fickledness, he would make her repent of it; and that after having ruined her Reputation by the publishing of his Passion for her, he would compleat her Destruction by his Indifferency: That he intended to go see her in Person, and to upbraid her in the Face of the whole Court, with her Inconstancy. That would prove an infallible Means, said the Earl, of the Death at least of three People; Elizabeth Lucy will certainly poison her self; General Talbot will die for Grief, when he understands that your Majesty is likely to traverse his Love; and the Earl of Devonshire out of Madness and Jealousy will kill his Lady. No matter, said the King, I am resolv'd once in my Life time to follow the Inclinations of my own Heart, without hearkening to a thousand Reasons, that are contradictory to my Satisfaction. I don't presume so far, Sir, answer'd the Earl, as to engage your Majesty into what I propose, in good earnest: Madam Elizabeth Lucy is not deserving enough for you to offer any Violence to your Inclinations; General Talbot has acted a very unwise Part, to give way to such a Passion; and as for the Countess of Devonshire, I would advise your Majesty to make Love to her with Trumpets sounding tho' she was to be poison'd within a Quarter of an Hour after. Whilst he was talking thus, the King remain'd in a ruminating Posture, without answering a Word, and soon after return'd to his Palace.

Immediately after Dinner, he went to pay a Visit to his Mistress, whom he presented with a very rich Jewel; it was an Excellent Piece of Engraving upon a large Ruby of a most exquisite Lustre; besides which there was a fine Diamond cut in the Shape of a Heart; the whole Devise represented a Moon in a vast Sea, with this Inscription, She causes my Calms and my Tempests. He told her at the same time a thousand engaging things, conjuring her, for the future, not to load him with Reproaches he deserved not. The Marchioness receiv'd it with equal Demonstrations of Joy and Acknowledgment: She was overjy'd to find the Devise apply'd to her; notwithstanding which, with Tears in her Eyes, she made some few gentle Reflections upon the King. And he, thinking he had done enough for one Day would not urge her at that time, to discover to him the Persons who had given her information of these things; tho' at the same time he continu'd in his Resolution of finding it out. It was so late, before all the Articles of Peace were well regulated, that they Supp'd together. When the Earl came to pay his Respects to the King, and found himself at full Liberty, to speak his Sentiments, My thinks, said he to the King, I see in your Eyes, the Conquest of Madam Elizabeth Lucy, and the Defeat of my Lady Devonshire. No, reply'd he, you are mistaken in your Sight: There is still remaining in my Heart, a very agreeable Idea, I am not able to efface so soon as I would. But, Sir, said the Earl, dare I take the Liberty, to ask your Majesty if really you could wish it so? The King, after pausing a while, reply'd, I don't very well know what I could wish, for I imagine to my self an absolute Felicity in pleasing the Countess; but on the other Hand am dissatisfy'd with her, and fear, lest Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy should die for Vexation, unless she has the Preference before the other. What then intend you to do, Sir, said the Earl? I am resolved to talk with my Lady Devonshire, added the King. This being the very thing the Earl dreaded most, either for fear of the Noise such a Visit would make in the World or the Jealousy the Duke of Devonshire might conceive thereat, or out of a just Apprehension, lest the Countess might be overtaken with the Deserts and Grandure of this young Monarch: But on which side soever he consider'd it, it appear'd very dangerous to him. Sir, said he, you may write to the Countess, to let her know, that, unless she will find out some Opportunity for you to see her, you know how to pitch upon a Time your self, let the Consequence to her prove what it will. By this Means you will oblige her to act with all possible Diligence, and to surmount all Obstacles: You may see her without making a Noise in the World, and you may save both your Mistresses. The King lik'd his Advice, being well pleas'd not to give any real Occasion of Pain to one, whilst he sought to please the other.

The Earl was no sooner return'd home, but he writ to his charming Countess every thing a Heart full of Love is able to inspire into a Man, especially when he flatters himself not to be hated by the Party belov'd; he being a Person of an uncommon Vivacity of Thoughts, and most refin'd Wit, his Expressions were so Nice, Natural and Noble, that his Wit prov'd as great a Charm to the Countess, as his Person. Being ready to die with Impatience, he desir'd Permission to see her again; but things were to be done with so much Circumspection, that they durst not so soon venture at another Nocturnal Rendezvous, which might prove of very ill Consequence.

However, they having found means to get the print of the Key of the Little-Garden-gate, before it was return'd to the Countess of Anglesey, Albine sent it to the Earl, who charging Berincour to have one made immediately after the same Pattern; he spoke about it to a Lock-Smith, who after a great many Exceptions (to enhaunce the Price of his Labour) at last, made one according to the Mould.

The Earl being extreamly glad to see himself Master of a Key, that could give him Entrance into the Garden, now expected, with the utmost Impatience, the next favourable Opportunity to make use of it; when the King sent him a Messenger, before Day break, to order him to come to Court, He made all the haste he could, and found the King already in his Closet, much disturbed at the News he had received, that King Henry, his Rival, had obtain'd a certain Number of Troops from the Queen of Scots, besides 2000 French Auxiliaries sent him by that King, at the Intercession of Renault d' Anjou, King of Sicily, his Father-in-law; with the Queen, (that Amazon of our Age) at the Head of them. They have by this time join'd all their Forces said he to the Earl, and are preparing to march against ours: Go then, and with all possible speed join your Brother in order to make a powerful Opposition against the Efforts of the Enemy. The Earl used always to shew a great deal of Satisfaction, whenever he was to leave London on account of appearing in Arms for the King; but upon this Occasion he was too sensible, how much the Goddess of Love, prevailed over the God of War. The King much surprized at his Silence and heavy Countenance, What is the matter, said he, you are so much alter'd that I scarce know you; it seems as if you were troubled at the Choice I have made? No, Sir, said he, I am very sensible of your Goodness, and am resolv'd to acquit my self so well of my Duty, that you shall have no Reason to repent of having preferr'd my Services to the rest. Ah! said the King, I find how it is; you are in Love? You have found nothing, Sir, reply'd the Earl, with a Smile, I am preparing to obey your Orders. He went straightways home, but full of Trouble and Vexation. He sent Berincour to speak with Albine, and to promise her any thing she could desire in the World, provided she would find out but a few favourable Moments, wherein he might bid Adieu to his Fair Mistress. She left no Stone unturn'd to do it; but in spite of all her Care and Industry, no Opportunity did offer, and my Lady Devonshire would not give a helping Hand to procure one. He writ her a Letter as full of Passion as Respect, unto which, after some Irresolution, she return'd an Answer; wishing him a Happy Journey, and a Fortunate Campaign.

Of this she was even ready to repent, as soon as it was done; and told Albine, What would become of me, should this Billet be intercepted? 'Tis not enough for one to be Innocent; but one ought to act so, as not to appear blameable to any. Madam, reply'd the old Governess, you torment your self with things at a great Distance: Don't you know, that you have always reason enough to be sati•fy'd within your self, if you have acted nothing that is really blameable? But, Good God, Albine, continu'd the Countess, How can I be so? Was it fitting for me to write to my Lord of Warwick? In short, could I wish the Earl of Devonshire now to be my Confident. This and such like Discourse pass'd betwixt them, whilst her Letter was deliver'd to the Earl, who was so delighted therewith that for a time he could read nothing else but that.

However, in spite of all his Endeavours, not being able to compass an Interview, he saw himself under a Necessity of going for the Army; and having join'd the Marquess of Montague, his Brother, a Battle was fought near Exham, wherein King Henry having the Misfortune to be routed, was forc'd to seek for his Safety in his Flight, leaving most of his Faithful Friends to the Mercy of his Victorious Enemies; whereupon Henry Duke of Sommerset, Robert Earl of Hungerford, and Thomas Rosse, had their Heads cut off by King Edward's Order.

Whilst the unfortunate King Henry was endeavouring to save himself by Flight, Queen Margeret, his Spouse, who had, during the Battel outbraved all Dangers, seeing all lost, thought now of nothing so much as the Preservation of the Prince of Wales. This young Infant being now to her, the Dearest thing she had left in the World, she took him before her on Horse-back, and making the best of her Way to a spacious Forest, lay conceal'd there for several Days, never stirring forward but in the dark of the Night: But what should they do for Sustenance? the Forest afforded nothing but some wild Fruits, and the Child not being able to resist much longer, the Want of wholesome Nourishment, and the great Fatigues it had endured, the disconsolate Mother sent up her most servent Prayers to Heaven, and imagining that nothing could be super-added to her present Misery, in travelling forward fell in among a Gang of Highway-men, who at first appear'd not a little surpriz'd at their meeting with a Lady of so Majestick an Air, and in so magnificent an Attire in so solitary a Place; notwithstanding which, they stripp'd her to her very Peticoat; but a Contest arising betwixt them, about the sharing of the Rich Jewels they had taken from her, whilst they were preparing to fight for the Booty, she laid hold of this favourable Opportunity to make her Escape: So taking her Son in her Arms, she run, (notwithstanding this Burthen which Love render'd light to her) into an adjacent Wood. Here wandring about, till all her Strength fail'd her, she was forc'd to lay down upon the Ground: 'Tis in this Place my Dear Child, said she to the Prince, bathing him with her Tears, and squeezing him betwixt her Arms, 'Tis here the Queen of England, and the Heir to the Crown must end their Lives. She had scarce spoken these Words, when one of the Highway-men passing by the Place alone, where this Princess utter'd her Lamentations, she took Courage, and told him, Take, my Friend, •ake this Child, said she, presenting to him the •rince, save the King's Son. This Man touch'd with Compassion and Respect, received with much Satisfaction, this dear Pledge from this Princesses Hands, who being supported by him, made shift to get to a River, where she embark'd aboard a Vessel, which carry'd her to •luyce, from whence she went to Bruges, leaving her Son behind her in that Place, for fear he should not be able to undergo the Fatigues of a long Journey she intended to take, to solicit fresh Succours of Men and Money. As for the unfortunate King Henry, he retreated into a remote Place of Wales, but finding he could not time enough reassemble his Friends and broken Forces, went away in disguise, but was immediately after discovered, taken, and carry'd to London; King Edward shut him up in the Tower, where he endured a long Captivity.

The Earl of Warwick, having left the Command of the Army to his Brother, to disperse the broken Remnants of the Enemy's Forces, upon his return to Court, could not reap the full Fruits of his Victories, by reason of his Passion for the Countess of Devonshire; though King Edward received him with a thousand Demonstrations of Friendship and Esteem, and bestow'd uncommon Praises upon his Conduct and Bravery. The Countess of Devonshire her self, taking no small share in his Glory and safe return, was not averse in her self of seeing him; but there being certain Impossibilities, which made the Earl Languish to a very high degree, he wrote such engaging Letters to this lovely Lady, as served to remove all further Indifferency from her Heart.

Thus Matters stood, when the King going to a hunting Match in Oxfordshire, happened to pass by so near a certain Country Seat, then inhabited by the Dutchess Dowager of the late Duke of Bedford; Regent in France, under Henry IVth King of England, his Uncle, that he had a Curiosity of paying a Visit to her. The Name of this Lady was Jacueline of Luxenburgh, eldest Daughter to Peter of Luxenburgh, Count of S. Pol; who, notwithstanding the great Lustre of her Family, had bin by the irresistible Power of Love, constrained to condescend to the marrying of a private Gentleman, named Richard Rivers, and that at a time, when the most illustrious Families both in France and England, sought for her Alliance: She had by this Gentleman several Children, and among the rest Elizabeth Rivers, a Ladv endow•d with all the advantages of Mind and Body, that render a Person of her Age most Accomplish'd. Her Parents being not Masters of an Estate, sufficient to make her appear at Court, marry'd her to one Mr. John Grey, a Person no wise Superiour to her self, and of an indifferent Estate; but being Naturally inclined to Jealousy, constantly lived at his own Country House, and when he was obliged to be at his Post in the Army, used to leave his Wife with the Dutchess of Bedford: He happening to be Slain in an Engagement, whilst she was yet very Young, she continued with her Mother, so that this Family enjoy•d the innocent Pleasures of the Country, in a most perfect Union; though her present Station appear'd very different from that high Rank the Dutchess of Bedford was once placed in in the World; for besides her Lords and her own Estate, she had a yearly pension of 240000 Crowns, a prodigious Summ in those days!

The King had taken a fancy to hunt in one of the fittest days for that purpose, the Air being Gloomy, no Wind stirring, and without being incommoded by the Dust or Heat; He was then attended only by the Duke of Gloucester his Brother, and the Earl of Warwick, the rest being left in an adjacent Wood, to expect his return thither. Madam Grey happened to be walking in a long Walk, with Thomas and Richard her two Sons, in each of her Hands; being both so Young and Beautiful, that they resembled the Amours that are said to be of Venus her Attendance. She was in a plain, but very neat Dress, and her Person appear'd all over extreamly engaging: Having never seen the King, nor any of those that were along with him, the first thing she did, was to pull a large Vail over her Face, after which, she saluted them, but without stopping in the least, or casting so much as one Look at them. The King equally taken with her Modesty and Beauty, notwithstanding, he knew her no more than she did him, alighted and accosted her with that Polite and Noble Air, which distinguishes those that are Masters of it, from the common Rank of Men. After having saluted her, he ask'd with a Gallant Air, whether, being alone, she fear'd not some Paris or other, should act over again his Part with the fair Helen? She told him, that these Adventures were suitable only to the Age of Homer, and that in this solitary Place, they had neither a Paris nor a Helen. The longer the King heard her speak, the more he delighted in hearing her, and asking after the Dutchess of Bedford, understood beyond Expectation, that Madam Grey was her Daughter.

As they came nearer to the House, the Dutchess, who look'd out of a Window of her Closet, was not a little surprized to see her Daughter betwixt the King, the Duke of Gloucester and the Earl of Warwick: She went out to meet them, and to pay her Respects to the young King, which Madam Grey perceiving, was under no small Confusion, considering she had not paid him the Respect due to his Person. He, who took Notice of every thing she did, soon guessing at her Thoughts, told her a thousand Engaging and Gallant things upon that Head, and that with so much Vivacity of Wit, that she never had met with any thing Comparable to it in all her Life: But, this so agreeable a Conversation lasted not long, the King turning on a sudden very pensive, in spite of all his Endeavours against it: However, he took up the two young Sons of the young Window, and bestow'd his Carasses upon them, whilst his Looks were very attentively fix'd upon the Mother. The Earl of Warwick not so much prepossess'd as the King, talk'd with the Dutchess of Bedford, and at the same time, took particular Notice of his growing Passion. He conjured the two Ladies to come to London; I assure you, said he to the Dutchess of Bedford, That the Dutchess of York will be overjoy'd to see you again, you having pass'd the best of your days together; it is but reasonable, you should both recal those times to your Memory, and that, now I am King, I may do that for your Children, that I was not in a Condition to do, whilst I was yet Earl of Marche. Madam Bedford and Grey, return'd their Thanks with all the Marks of Acknowledgments, and the King fearing, lest Notice might be taken of the Satisfaction he took in the Company of these Ladies, he took leave, though with much Reluctancy; but could not forbear to speak a thousand times of the fair Widow, as an entire Piece of Perfection.

Some few days after, he told the Earl of Warwick, she had made so lively an Impression upon him, that he could not live unless he saw her again; and yet he feared to displease her, if he should come thither again so soon; desiring him therefore, to consider of some way or other to bring them to Court. The Earl, who had a very piercing Wit, told the King, that, the whole Family having no considerable Estate, the only way would be to bestow some Preferments upon the Father and Brother of Madam Grey, and a Pension upon her Children, to be bred at Court, and a Place upon the Dutchess of Bedford, under the Dutchess of York; And, that, Madam Grey engaged by all these Favours done to her Family, would easily quit her Solitude, to enjoy the Pleasures of the World. The King relishing the Earl's Advice, in a little time heap'd Favours upon Favours upon that Family: The Dutchess of Bedford with her Husband and Children came to London; but the young Widow, who was the Person most desired there, remain'd in the Country. The King vex'd to the Heart at her Absence, went on purpose to fetch her; He made her a thousand Reproaches, on account of her Indifferency; but at the same time, omitted nothing that might engage her to come to Court: You are too dangerous, Sir, said she to him, with a gay and most charming Air; Hitherto my Vertue was never put to the Tryal, living alone at my own Home at the Bottom of a Village, intent upon nothing but how to please my Husband, and to lament his loss. I have seen nothing hitherto that gave me the least Occasion of Fear; But, I am very sensible Sir, should I see you often, I should have great Occasion to dread you; I am also no less sensible, that my Virtue will never stoop so low, as to be your Mistress, and that my Fortune is not exalted enough to aspire to a Throne; I disclose, continued she, to your Majesty at once, what another perhaps would not have told you till after some years: But, I shall at least have this Satisfaction, not to give you any Cause of Vexation, by entertaining you with vain Hopes.

The King, who was not used to be so frankly dealt withal, having paused a little upon the Matter, told her, She might expect every thing from her Deserts; That he could never be Happy without her; That he would give his Promise to marry her, but that it must be kept secret, and not to be disclosed upon any account whatever; since he had as yet many Enemies, who would not fail to improve his Marriage with her to his Disadvantage; That therefore he Conjured her, to put Confidence in the Word of a Prince, who adored her, and that, unless she came to London, he was resolved to find her out every day in the Country. The Lady look'd upon this Condescension in the King, 〈◊〉 not rejecting her Proposition of engaging in so unequal a Match, as so signal a Favour, that she had no longer Power to refuse to come to Court, where she came to live with the Dutchess of Bedford her Mother. The several Visits the King had made to this fair Widow, the satisfaction he express'd at her coming to London, together with the Care he took in fitting up her Lodgings, occasioned an extream Jealousy in Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy. On the other Hand, Madam Grey, who had no less her own Interest in view, judged it very requisite to engage the Earl of Warwick on her side, which she effected by giving him peculiar Marks of her Esteem, and Confidence in him, such, as she was sensible he could do no otherwise than repay with Acknowledgment; She Conjured him, to cultivate for ever a strict Friendship with her, and to give her some insight concerning those Persons she ought to fear most.

The Earl overjoy'd at this Proposition, represented to her the Countess of Devonshire, as the Person for whom the King had the most passionate Inclination: He desired her, to keep this as an absolute Secret promising to advertise her, from time to time, of whatever was likely to impair her Interest: So that, as often as he observed in the King some Relapses of his Tenderness for this Countess, he gave Notice thereof either by Word of Mouth, or by Letters to Madam Grey; who made use of Tears, and sometimes of Threats, that she would retire into the Country: All this was done so seasonably, that the King took all imaginable Care to conceal from her, the Frailty of his Heart, though at the same time, he let slip no Opportunity of obliging the Countess of Devonshire: He would write to her, by the Assistance of Albine, sometimes in the Language of a Lover, sometimes of a Soveraign Master, but always like a King full of Passion; But the Deserts of my Lord of Warwick, had made so lively an Impression upon her Heart, that in spire of all her Endeavours to banish him thence, he was always there present, this being the only thing she now took any satisfaction in, and all the rest proving indifferent to her. She would not take the Trouble of Dressing herself, nay, she would blame her self to appear in any set Dress since it was not done to please him; Neither was there any Conversation she so much delighted in, as in that of Albine, because it was to her alone she could speak, concerning the Person she had already loved too much, for the Tranquility of her Life.

The Countess of Anglesey, who narrowly observed all the Actions of her Daughter, did not impart to any body Living, the Surprize she was in, to find so strange an Alteration in her Daughter; but resolved to discourse her upon that Point, believing, that, considering her tender Age, and most excellent Education, she would not fail to make an ingenuous Confession: So, without insisting upon any further Preliminaries in the Matter, she took her Daughter one day into the Garden, at an Hour when it was yet too Hot to take much Diversion in walking for any considerable time, and leaning upon her, went into the Grotto, under Pretence of being scorched by the Heat of the Sun, and of having a Mind to rest a little there; but in effect, to talk to her in that Place with the more freedom. 'Tis impossible for me, said my Lady Anglesey, as soon as they were seated, to see you any longer in the Condition you are in, without asking the reason of it; I don't do this out of Curiosity, or Severity, to make you stand in awe of me; no, my Dear Daughter, my Intention is not either to chide, or to reproach you; 'Tis an easie Matter for one of your Age, to commit a Fault, that is perhaps not well understood; I aim at nothing else, than to provide you with Arms to encounter it; I would be acquainted with your Pain, with an intention to ease it: Believe me, Daughter, that in laying open your Heart to me, you run not the least hazard; but in shutting it up against me, you are in great Danger: Give me Entrance there, and be not afraid, lest if I should meet there with a Stranger, I little look for, it should either surprize or raise me into a Passion; I will mingle my Tears with yours, I will be to you instead of a Shield, to protect you against the most dangerous Darts of an Enemy, whom perhaps you alone are too weak to resist.

Whilst she was a talking, the young Countess was Ruminating what answer to give her, and what was best to be done in so pressing a Case as this; She knew very well, her Mother to be a Woman of great Sense and Penetration, she knew her to be •aughty, positive in her Opinion, and one who would not be removed from what she had once conceived to be true, let her say what she would: But, to Sacrifice the Earl of Warwick, was such an affliction, her Heart could not in the least consent to, since this Confession must for ever Rob her of the Pleasures of seeing him. After all, her Mother's Discourse drawing to a Conclusion, an answer must be given, unless she would make her self appear Guilty by her Silence. She took immediately a Resolution what to do, and throwing herself at her Mothers Feet, Madam, said she to her, I own my self Guilty of a great Crime, in not having immediately revealed to you a Thing, wherein I ought to have had Recourse to your Conduct; 'Tis that alone I blame my self for, being for the rest sufficiently Proof against any Impressions contrary to my Duty. I will then confess to you in all sincerity, That which puts me into so Melancholy a Humour of late, is, that I am so closepursued by the King; You will discover in this Letter his Sentiments for me, and mine for his Person; You will be sensible of his Design, of noising the Matter abroad, I tremble at the Misfortune of my Father and Husband; I lived in Hopes, to tire him out by my Rigorous Proceedings, without provoking his Anger; But, Madam, see, see how angry he is! With these Words, She put the King's last Letter into her Mother's Hands, (which was delivered to her by Albine) who having Perused it, burst out into Tears for Joy; and embracing her Daughter, My Dear Child, said she to her, don't fear any Man living, we are too Happy in so Vertuous a Daughter; How few are there, that would not be puff'd up with the Passion of son Amiable a King? But how dangerous it is to trust him; You see his unfaithfulness to the Fair Elizabeth Lucy, and the lovely Madam Grey; both which he loved so Passionately, being Charm'd with their Beauties: Rest satisfy'd, That you would not be in a Condition to fix him as well they, because they have much more Cunning, and understand the Affairs of the World much better than you: Let, let the King alone, tho' at the Peril of all our Lives. The good Mother spoke these Words with a great deal of Passion, and affording a free Course to her Tears, the young Countess could not refrain to do the same: She remain'd all this while at her Feet, and were laying over the Matter with a great deal of Vehemency; when the Earls of Anglesey and Devonshire entred the Grotto.

They were surprized to find them in this Posture; the Countess of Anglesey perceived it, and judging rightly, that nothing could prove more prejudicial to her Daughter, than if the Earl of Devonshire should get it into his Head, that she had bin reprimanding her Daughter concerning her ill Conduct, especially, since she knew him to have conceived some Jealousy already, at the Accidental meeting of her Daughter with the King in the Forrest, and that he had told some hard and reflecting Words to her upon that account; She desired the Earls of Angiesey and Devonshire, to give attention to what she was a going to discover to them: You will, I don't doubt, continued she, Commend the Countess of Devonshire, for her firmness and sincerity: Look here upon this Letter from the King, (she Communicated to me) full of Threats, in case she continues to treat him with Indifferency. The Earl of Devonshire took the Letter, a Colour rising in his Face, which sufficiently discover'd his Uneasiness; and being well acquainted with the Character of his Master, had the satisfaction of being an Eye Witness of his Complaints: He told my Lady Anglesey, he never questioned his Wives Conduct, knowing the Sincerity and good Inclinations of her Heart; and that it was an Action worthy herself, to prefer her Duty to all the Airy Ideas of Greatness. The Earl of Anglesey on his side, was not able to express his satisfaction; The young Countess said little, but at that Juncture secretly blamed herself, for not Sacrificing the Earl of Warwick, in the same manner as she had done the King.

Their Conversation being over, she retired into her Apartment, to tell Albine every thing that happened; She fail'd not to give immediate Notice thereof to the Earl of Warwick, who judged, not without great reason, that the Countess and her Family would now not stay longer in London, since every thing would appear suspicious there, and that he must prepare for a most Cruel Separation: What he had foreseen, came soon to pass; The Earl of Devonshire told his Father-in-law, That, since the King would not be easily repulsed, the best means to make him to think no more of the Countess, would be to let her Mother carry her along with her to Twittenham; and his Advice being fully approved by the Earl of Anglesey, every thing necessary for their Departure was got ready with great secrecy. In the mean while, the King continuing to labour under no small uneasiness, would fain have Visited my Lady Devonshire, nor would he have delay'd the Matter, had it not bin on account of Madam Grey, for whom his Passion gathered new strength every day; and the Earl of Warwick left nothing undone on his side, to persuade the King, that nothing could be more Beautiful, nor more fit to be Beloved than her; every Word of hers he Represented to the utmost advantage, and made the nicest Remarks upon what she never said, nay, what she perhaps never thought of.

The Countess of Devonshire being told by her Mother, that they intended to carry her into the Country, was most sensibly afflicted at this piece of News; She disclosed her Pain to Albine, but forbid her at the same time to let the Earl of Warwick know of it. But the Treacherous old Governess having but little regard to her Mistresses Orders, not only discovered the Matter to him, but also gave him to understand, that her Mistress would not be able to bid him Farewell, unless some unforeseen Opportunity should offer it self. The Earl was ready to run distracted at this piece of News, and walking very fast up and down the Room, when the General came in abruptly, looking very heavy and melancholy. Ah! my Lord, said he, I have heard something, that much disturbs my Mind; My Lady Devonshire is to go along with my Lady Anglesey to Twittenham, I have it under her own Hand, but what is worst of all, is, that there is a suspicion of an Interview betwixt us; So, that being the occasion of her Lord's jealousy, and of the severity of her Mother, I am resolved to see her no more. What a Change of Fortune is this, for a Man who was so very Happy but lately! I Compassionate you, reply'd the Earl, but after all, you are fully assured of being Beloved. That is but a slender Comfort, reply'd the General. Perhaps it will not be long before she returns, said the Earl, and imagine how acceptable that will prove to you. Rather imagine, cry'd he, what I am to suffer during her absence: I am to see her to Morrow to take my leave of her, and this faithful Limner has bin forced to take a great deal of Pains to procure me that happy Moment. The Earl Congratulated him, and his Head being too full to permit him to detain the General by insignificant questions, He only told him, That he was as much concerned at this Mishap as if it were his own, and that he hoped that he would do him so much justice, as to believe that he was as sensibly touch'd with it as himself co•ld be.

So soon as he was at Liberty, he made use of all his Wit and Charms, which he knew how to make appear in their utmost Lustre when he resolved to do it, to persuade the Countess, That if she departed without permitting him to see her, he should infallibly die of Grief. She being most sensibly touch'd with the tender and submissive Expressions of this Letter would perhaps have bin inclinable enough to afford him this Favour, but knew not how to hazard a thing of that Consequence, in a House which then contained so numerous a Family; She consulted about the Matter the same Evening with Albine. The old Governess had scarce Patience enough to hear the Countess putting her in Mind of the Jealousy and Courage of the Earl of Devonshire, and that in case the Earl of Warwick should be discovered, he would be but scurvily used. Albine, I say, having a greater share of Avarice than Prudence, reply'd, Let the worst come to the worst, the Earl might pretend he was sent thither by the King, and so he need not fear any ill usage, since that would be the way to provoke the King to the highest degree. The Countess did not give her Consent, without a great deal of Reluctancy, having observed for several days last past, that they were more jealous of her than formerly, and knowing, that upon the least suspicion, the whole Family would take the Alarm: But, how easie is it to overcome a young Woman prepossess'd in the Favour of him she likes! Albine promised to remove all obstacles, adding, That the Earl of Warwick would infallibly die for Grief, if he should be made sensible of her positiveness in this point; And there needed no more to convince the Countess, that she might see him without much danger.

You will easily imagine, he would not miss the Assignation, for though that was to be late at Night, he fail'd not to rise very early in the Morning, and such was his impatience, that he thought the day would never be at an end: What did not he say to the Sun! Every thing a Lover was capable of, in his Amorous Frenzies. He call'd Night a Thousand times to his Aid, and no sooner had the Sky covered it self with its Black Vail, but wrapt up in a Cloak, and attended only by his faithful Berincour, he comes to the little Garden Gate, not questioning but that his new Key, which he had never try'd before, would open it without Trouble: But all this Care and Pains proved fruitless; for the Key broke in the Lock. What was now to be done after such a mishap? Nothing else but to get over the Wall, or else to return from whence he came. But, as he would rather have chosen to die in attempting the first, than to free himself from all danger by the last, so, without hesitating upon the Matter, he Clambred up to the top, as he had done once before, and was just upon the point of leaping into the Garden, when he saw abundance of People with Flambeaux, who appear'd as if they were searching after something. In effect my Lady Anglesey having lost the Pourtraiture of the Dutchess of York she constantly wore on her Arm had not perceived it till after it was Dark, and having caused, but in vain, to search all the Apartments, she ordered all the Walks of the Garden to be narrowly view'd, for fear the weight of the Gold and Diamonds might make it sink into the Sand.

As all the Domesticks were not equally intent upon the Matter, some, who happened to look upwards, perceived the Earl of Warwick just ready to leap into the Garden; and not doubting but that he was a Thief cry'd out as fast as they could. The Earl seeing there was no better way to choose, than to retire in all haste; But, his Gentleman being at some distance, as not imagining he would return so soon, he was forced to get down without his Assistance; so that by a Fall, he Wounded his Arm, in so much, that he thought it had bin broken: But, though it proved excessive Painful, he made all the haste he could, to get away from that fatal Place, where he had flattred himself to get Sight of his so dearly Beloved Lady: He walk'd very fast, and sometimes looking behind him, would ask his Gentleman, whether they were pursued by any body? This being overheard by a certain Person that pass'd by accidentally, and he believing them to be Thieves, gave Notice thereof to the Watch, who fell upon, and surrounded them before they could make use of their Swords to defend themselves. The Leader of the Watch, being a Brutish Fellow and Drunk, ask'd the Earl, who he was, from whence he came, and where he intended to go? It was thought fit to return him no answer, partly out of disdain, partly out of necessity not to make a Noise they being as yet but at a little distance from the Garden, and they supposed, as actually it happened that the Earls of Anglesey and Devonshire knew by this time, there had bin some body seen upon the Wall: Besides, some going to take a view of the little Gate of the Garden, and finding a Key broken within the Lock, this caused no small uneasiness in the Family, and the Matter being canvass'd over and over, the Earl of Devonshire discovered somewhat of a Secret Jealousy. The poor Countess, saw her Projects vanish into Smoak, and the necessity of departing, rendred her almost inconsolable; Besides, she durst not discover her Trouble, so that, though she conceal'd it as much as she could, yet there appear'd in her Eyes a certain Emotion, which might easily have bin observed.

But to return to the Earl of Warwick, who finding himself surrounded by the Watch, thought it his best way to get rid of them, by bestowing a good Handful of Money upon the Leader, not questioning, but that so he might be dismiss'd, without being put to the trouble of discovering his Name: He had fill'd his Pockets with Gold Pieces he intended for Albine; but missing of her, offer'd them to the Leader of the Watch: But his Profusedness proved mischievous to him; for this Man, now judging they had committed some great Robbery, and perceiving him to be Wounded in the Arm, and to be very careful in hiding his Face, was resolved to detain him, it being a Custom here, to stop and keep in Custody all such as will not discover themselves, if they are met by the Watch in the Night time. There are certain Benches fastned on every Corner of London Streets, to the Walls of the Houses, whereon such as are taken upon Suspicion are to sit, with their Legs put thro' certain Holes made in two Boards, fitted and joyn'd one above the other; a Diversion not very well agreeing with those who are used to more convenient Seats. The Earl perceiving what Quarters were prepared for him once more took the Head of the Watch aside, and told him, That if he would not put him into that Place, but let him go, he would entrust him with his Name, and that he was the Earl of Warwick: Upon this, the Head Officer, who did not take Notice of his Garter, nor of the Embroidered Star the Knights of that Order always wear upon their Coats, not doubting but that he was an Imposture, Go, said he, did not I suspect thee before to be a Rogue? Thy Impudence to assume the Name of so Great a Man, fully convinces me of it: And so, without hearkning any further to his Discourse, he put his Legs into the Stocks, with a Resolution to carry both him and his Gentleman to my Lord Warwick, as soon as it should be day-light.

I give you leave to guess at the Confusion he was in upon so odd an Accident. Did ever since the beginning of the World, said he to Berincour, happen any Adventure like this? I would be tolerably well contented, had I but taken my Leave of the Countess; but now am so unfortunate, as not to be able to see her before she is carry'd into the Country: Besides that, the Wound I have in my Arm will require some time to be cured; so, that all the unlucky Accidents seems now to center in mine. I defy thee, Capricious Fortune, cry'd he, to treat me worse than thou hast done. However, after some short Reflections, added he, Who is it in all England that would not choose to be in my Place, and be at this very time where I am now, seated upon a Bench at the Corner of a Street, with my Legs put through so many Holes, and lock'd close within the Boards? And this is the Station, those who would wish themselves in my Place, must be in, in spite of themselves: For, I can assure you, I am here contrary to my Inclinations. My Lord, said his Gentleman, this will be over by Daylight, and he that could be my Lord Warwick upon this Condition, would have no ill Bargain of it for the remainder of his Life. I know not what you may think of it, said he, as for my Part, I would rather choose to be a Porter; for he Works all Day, and at Night relishes the Pleasures of a sweet Tranquillity, more than a General after the gaining of a Battel; he has no Master, and consequently is under no constraint of pleasing him; has he a Mistress, he goes to see her without controul; he enjoys Health, and is never without a good Appetite; if his Wife's obstroperous, he beats her into good Manners; he dreads neither the Great Ones nor the Thieves, his Fortune is always in the same Station; his Prince knows not whether there be such a Man upon Earth, and that Place is the best to him where he can live best. Now what Comparison is there betwixt such a Man and a Courtier, such as I am? Such as you are, my Lord, cry'd Berincour, was ever a Man born under a more Fortunate Planet. The King stands indebted to you for his Crown, and all what he can do for you, is below what you have done for him. I am nevertheless to be pity'd at this time, reply'd the Earl, and I can't but admire the Capriciousness of Fortune; it seems to me as if Caprice and Chance play against one another for us Mortals, and that they decide our Fate at their own Pleasure. They were thus talking together to divert their Spleen, when they heard not far from thence, some Body cry out Murder, Watch, Help! The Watch Gang, being not far off, run immediately that way, and in a moment after, brought hither a Man who appear'd to be very refractory.

The Earl and his Gentleman, not being over curious to see him, turn'd away their Faces, because they were unwilling to be seen themselves; but the Head of the Watch, who brought him along, told him, laughing, You will have no reason to be dissatisfy'd with your Company, General Talbot, for here is the Earl of Warwick and another Lord, who will be glad of your Conversation; so you may discourse together of the Court, till Day break, when I shall have the Honour of seeing you again. At these Words he lock'd his Leggs into the Stocks, and took his Leave of the Three Prisoners.

Whoever thou art, said the Earl of Warwick to him, that hast occasion to try the same Fate with mine, pray tell me, how did'st thou fancy to get out of the Hands of these Myrmidons? By telling them you were the General Talbot? And thou, who art so curious and importunate, returns he, what makes thee ask so unseasonable a Question, since thou had'st Confidence enough thy self to assume the Name of the Earl of Warwick? The Earl was so well pleas'd with this Answer, that he could not refrain from laughing, and his Laughter having something in it that was peculiar and easie to be distinguish'd. I now am sensible, continued the Person that spoke before, why thou did'st make Use of his Name, because thou laughest very like him. Thou art in the right on't, said my Lord Warwick, I have bin often flattered, that I was like him, and at a Pinch one lays hold of every thing: But, continu'd he, tho' thou did'st act by the same Motives as I did, pray tell me, What made thee imagine thou could'st get off by taking upon thee the Name of General Talbot, because there was not the least Probability in this Pretence▪ I made use of the first Name that came into my Head, reply'd the other. I am sorry, said the Earl, you did not pitch upon that of the Earl of Warwick, as well as my self, that we might have seen who had the best Title to it. The other Prisoner made no further Answer, and the Earl only said with a low Voice to his Gentleman, That when the Watch came by the next time, they would try once more whether they could get out of this troublesome Place.

Whilst they were Discoursing together, their Brother-in-affection, who having bin over-heated, and now had had time enough to cool himself, began to Cough most violently. The Earl heard him not without some Surprize: If I have the Laughter of the Earl of Warwick, said he, I am sure thou hast General Talbot's Cough. Doest thou know him well enough, to be a Judge of that, reply'd the Man with the Cough▪ No Man that has bin a Soldier can be mistaken in that point, said the Earl. They were thus talking together, when the Watch passing by, they call'd to them, to desire to be conducted to their respective Places of abode. You are a Company of Rogues, said their Leader, you are likely to stay here till Day-light; but fearing lest something should be defective in the Lock of the Boards wherein their Leggs were enclosed, he view'd it narrowly with his Lanthorn. At this instant the Prisoners casting their Eyes about, knew one another, to their utmost surprize on both sides.

The Watch being gone, they both gave a great Cry at the same time, and taking each other by the Hand, How! Is it you? How! Is it you, said they: What happened to me, added the General, is past all belief; were we alone, I would ease my self in telling you my Adventure. You may rest assured, said the Earl, that the third Person here, is both Deaf and Dumb, when ever I think fit; and that is enough to secure you against any thing from him. I am so impatient to relate it to you, reply'd the General, that upon your Word I am a going to tell you the whole Story.

'You are not unacquainted with that Passion I have bin entangled in for some time pass'd, I, I say, who had kept my self free from it, all my Life time before: I was not sensible of the Effects it would produce in my Heart, and consequently so little feared the Consequences thereof, that I cherish'd it as my greatest Happiness. 'Tis true, the Obstacles I met with to see the Countess of Devonshire, appear'd to me so full of Difficulty and Trouble, that I was resolv'd to cure and despise my Frailty: But this unfortunate Painter, having in some measure dived into my true Sentiments, and found by Experience, that a Person of my Temper, was the fittest Object of encreasing his Fortune, came to me, to facilitate, as he said, every thing for an Interview betwixt the Countess and my self. I accepted his Offer, and it was agreed he should come in a Coach to my Back-gate: I went into it, without any Attendance, being asham'd my Domesticks should have the least Suspicion of my Extravagancy. He Conducted me into a Beautiful Garden, and thence into a Grotto, where I saw the Countess of Devonshire; so full of Tenderness, Frankness and Modesty, that being seized with the most profound Respect for her Person, I thought my self only too Happy: She would afford me no other Favours than the Satisfaction of Seeing, and Sighing for her, and I insisted upon no more; for I despise all Women that suffer themselves to be withdrawn from their Duty: And not withstanding that heighth of Passion I had conceived for her, I should have shewn nothing but Aversion to her; It having at all times bin my Opinion, that Vertue and Modesty are the Essential Parts of a Good Woman. She questionless had bin acquainted with my Temper, and therefore always kept herself within such strict Bounds, that she would never allow me the Liberty of touching as much as her Hand, unless when I put some Rings with Precious Stones upon her Fingers: When I spoke to my Limner, concerning her Reservedness, he told me, in his Country the Ladies were much more Cruel, and to speak of an Italian Woman, and of a Tyger, was the same thing. I was not good Natur'd enough, to be like him, but gave him the hearing: But, to be short, my Lord, you know I told you this Morning, that I was to take my leave of her to Night, accordingly I went to the Grotto, attended by by my old Guide, where I found the Countess; but in a Moment after, saw come in an antient Man, follow'd by Four lusty Young Men well Arm'd; The Father, without taking any Notice of me, turning to his Daughter, Unfortunate Woman, said he, What could engage thee to Dishonour our Family by thy ill Conduct? Art not thou Treated both by thy Mother and my self, with all the Tenderness thou couldst expect under thy Circumstances? Thy Life shall Pay for the Shame thou hast made us undergo, with this, drawing his Dagger, gave her a Stab, before I could put it by, though I had my Sword drawn; but I Wounded one of the young Fellows who Assaulted me. I saw my self immediately Surrounded by the Father and the other three, so that I found my self engag'd at great odds, and for whom, I give you leave to Guess, to wit, for an inconsiderable Jilt, who so nearly resembled the Countess of Devonshire, that, to find out the real difference betwixt them, one must be undeceived in the same manner as I was. I thought it therefore my best way to think of Retreating, and I can't tell, whether they knew me or not; But certain it is, they were not very pressing upon me, to hinder my Retreat. Thus, I had come off well enough, had it not bin for two Old Women, who, being brought thither by the Noise, pursued me so closely with their out-cries, that the Watch heard it. I happened to meet them at the Corner of a Street, which I cross'd with much haste, tho' I knew not where I was: For, my Roguish Italian, who stood Centry for me, was run away, and in all probability, will never appear no more in London, after the Game he has play'd me. But be that as it will; I soon saw my self beset on all sides by the Watch, and having not much time to consider how to answer those questions they commonly put to those they meet in the Night time, I thought it the shortest way, to be plain with them, I am such a one; What a cry did they not set up at my Name! I know the time, when to ingratiate themselves with General Talbot, they wou'd almost press me to Death; and you may now see, that in the Place where I am, they have almost done so in good earnest.'

The Earl would have bin much more Surpriz'd than now he was at this Recital, had he not known beforehand, that this Woman being a Supposititious Countess of Devonshire, the unravelling of this Intrigue was not likely to happen without Noise: So that being actually prepared against any Surprize, he pretended nevertheless he was, and acted his Part to the greatest nicety. If you will follow my Advice, said he, I would have you endeavour to cure your self of a Passion, which has served hitherto only to torment you, and to impair that Great Character unto which you were born. 'Tis certain, said the General, I was not made for these sorts of Amusements; I am so much asham'd of it, that should any Body else but your self, my Lord, be acquainted with my Frailties, I should not be able to endure it. You may therefore believe, that I shall not seek to nourish those Flames I so much despise. As good fortune will have it, the true Countess is a going into the Country; I am sure I will not go to meet her by the Way: And it shall not be my fault, if ever I see her again. But, continued he, What Chance drew you into this Ambush? I need not tell you, reply'd the Earl, you may be sure it was an Assignation. Well, at least, added the General, I hope you saw the Party you look'd for? No, said he, and am, besides that, much Wounded in the Arm. So we have both sufficient cause of Dissatisfaction, reply'd the General: But I wish I was so far a Conjurer as to guess at the Subject, and to tell in what Place we now are? As to what relates to my self, reply'd the Earl, there needs no Conjurer, who deals with Hell or the Devil; 'Tis known to every Body long ago, that I am much addicted to Adventures. Don't you remember, what happened to the King and my self, whilst he was yet Earl of Marche? One sweet Night above all the rest being taken up by the Watch, we were forc'd to tell our Names, but they had too much ill Nature to believe us; so they would needs carry us to the very Lodgings of the Dutchess of York, who, tho' she was asleep, these Beasts would needs speak with her: Here, Madam, said they, take your Son, and keep him at home; for if we meet him again, we shall not bring him hither. I remember the thing, said the General, and know this is not your Noviate, tho' I confess it is altogether a Novelty to me; and should be sorry to the Heart, if a Burlesque Account should be given of a thing which is sufficiently ridiculous in it self, and in which I have bin engaged in good earnest. Let this matter happen as it will, said the Earl, it will do you no harm.

Whilst they were thus talking the time away, Day-Light began to disperce the Darkness of the Night, and this increasing their impatience of seeing themselves reliev'd from so ill a Post, they were ready to break their Leggs in trying how to get them out. The Watch happen'd to come just in the nick of time, under the same Leader, but attended by another set of Watchmen, being upon the point of parting: Among these there happen'd to be two, who knowing both the General and the Earl very well, were ready to drop down for fear, having scarce strength enough left, to let the Head of the Watch know the fault he had committed: The fellow turn'd Pale, like one that had receiv'd Sentence of Death, and threw himself at their Feet. The two Earls, seeing him almost desperate, told him, He should be satisfy'd, and take care to open the Lock of the Boards that kept in their Legs, and that without any loss of time. The poor Fellow was so much frightned, that he neither understood them, nor remember'd what he had done with the Key; at last it was found, and that in the very nick of time, since otherwise they had bin catch'd in that Place by the Earl of Devonshire.

This Lord more disturb'd by his Jealousy, than eas'd by sleep, had not bin in Bed all that Night, under pretence of giving the necessary Orders for their Journey: Thus he pass'd the greatest part of the Night in a very Ill Humour, and rais'd his Mother-in-law and Wife so early out of their Beds, that they pass'd through the same Street, where the General and the Earl had had their Quarters, within a few Minutes after they were dismiss'd. The Head of the Watch was still sitting upon the same Bench, tearing his Hair like a Madman. The Countess of Anglesey compassionating his Condition, stopp'd the Coach, and call'd to him; but he refusing to come near them, she desir'd the Earl of Devonshire, who was on Horseback along with them, to speak to him, since she thought she knew him, for he kept the Watch not far from their House. Having a little recover'd himself, he related to the Earl of Devonshire what Misfortune had befall'n him; saying, He look•d upon himself as lost for ever, and that he was resolv'd to go out of England. The Earl could not give Credit to so strange an Adventure; and what render'd it quite incredible to him, was, that General Talbot was mention'd in it, whom he believ'd to be much wiser than to ramble in the Streets in the Night with the Earl of Warwick; so that he look'd upon the Fellow as Frenzical. He told his Opinion to the Countess of Anglesey, who thought the same; but the young Countess of Devonshire, knew too well how the matter lay: Her Grief encreas'd to a high degree, when she understood what had happen'd to the Earl, and especially his being Wounded in the Arm: She endeavour'd, but in vain, to conceal it; but you might have read in her Eyes, the Secret Thoughts of her Heart. Her Mother ask'd her, what was the matter? She told her she was very ill; and she being suppos'd to be then with Child, there was no further enquiry made at that time.

The Earl of Warwick had much ado to get home; his Leggs were much crampt, and his Arm full of Pain, but his worst Distemper lay in the Head and Mind. He much fear'd that some of the Watchmen would talk of this Accident, and that thus the whole Mistery might be unfolded, which it was his utmost interest to keep conceal'd. The General Talbot had a thousand Chimera's to struggle withal; and being resolv'd not to make any one the Confident of his Troubles, he kept the whole closed up within his own Breast: However, he saw himself freed from the Fetters of the Countess, and this Passion had bin sufficiently tormenting to him not to relish the sweet of this new Tranquility. In the mean while, the Earl of Warwick took the departure of the Countess of Devonshire so far to Heart, that he was forc'd to keep his Bed: But what prov'd a great Addition to his Grief, was, that putting his Hand into his Pocket, to feel for a Jewel he had, he found it not; he guess'd he must either have lost it, or else it was stoln out of his Pocket; but however it happen'd, he was almost desperate about it; he order'd Berincour to leave no Stone unturn'd to find it out, and in the mean while continu'd to be almost beyond himself.

The King was no sooner risen, but he ask'd for the Earl of Warwick, so they went to fetch him; but being told he had a Feaver, the King, who lov'd him extreamly, was not long before he gave him a Visit in his Lodgings. He had already bin inform'd of the departure of the Countess of Devonshire by Albine, whereat being most sensibly afflicted, he wanted to talk with the Earl about it. At last, said he, they have carry'd away the Countess: I am surpriz'd at my self, I should relent her Loss, after the Usage I have receiv'd from her! and therefore am apt to believe, 'tis not her Person, so much as the satisfaction of revenging my self, which I regret at present. Forget her, Sir, said the Earl in a Languishing Tone, she is unworthy of your Tenderness, and I am sensible she will be sufficiently punish'd in the Country, for her Inconstancy in London. That does not satisfy me, added the King, I will know, what it was that made her use me at that rate. You had better stay for her return, reply'd the Earl, your Majesty knows then what to do best. This delay not suiting the King's impatient Temper, and Anger, he was sometimes for making her to come back again; in a Moment after, for going to see her; and after all, he was for sending his Favourite thither; but soon changing his Mind again, he was struggling with these different Thoughts for several Days. Madam Grey was not insensible of this Distraction of his Mind, and she was sufficiently inclin'd to make her Complaints to him, but was afraid of checking the King's Passion, and that being us'd to see her in Tears so often, he might not regard them for the future; she was of Opinion, that nothing could be of more dangerous Consequence to a Mistress; and that an unfaithful Lover, who takes care to conceal his Infidelity, is more likely to return to his former Passion, than one who quite breaks off upon that Score: Besides, that the Earl, who had all along animated her Anger, was not now so pressing upon that Point: For he fear'd no more the King's Progress in this Passion, since the departure of my Lady Devonshire; and now employ'd all his care in settling his own.

What Disturbances did he not meet with in his Heart, when he consider'd she was not to come back in a considerable time! and that there was not the least Opportunity of seeing her, but what must prove very dangerous as well to her as to himself! and that they must fear every thing from the Countess of Anglesey, whose strict Vertue could not permit her to dispence with the most insignificant Frailty in so Dear and Beautiful a Daughter. He would often shut himself up in his Closet, to abandon himself intirely to the•e melancholy Refections; his Grief encreas'd every Day, Albine writ to him no more; he was for trying every thing to see the Countess, or at least to send to her his Gentleman, whom he knew to want neither Courage nor Conduct; but his fear of meeting with some Sinister Accident stop'd his Designs, and betwixt these various Irresolutions, his Evil rather increas'd than decreas'd.

After the Earl of Devonshire had left the Head-Watchman before mention•d, he travell'd immediately forward to a Wood, through which they must pass to Twittenham; here alighting from his Horse, he gave it to a little Page that attended him, whilst he walk'd along the great Road with a slow Pace ruminating upon the Thief that had bin seen upon the Wall, the broken Key in the Little Garden-gate, and at last upon the Fancy of the Head-Watchman, who believ'd he had taken up the Earls of Warwick and S••op. If he had mention'd only the first, said he, I would not in the least question it; but the last of these two has more Wit than to be catch'd in so odd an Adventure. As he was frequently looking about to see whether his Mother-in-law's Coach follow'd him, he observ'd something that cast a more than ordinary Lustre in his Page's Hands: Drawing nearer to him he saw it was a large Jewel of Gold, set all over with precious Stones, a Piece he had often seen in the Earl of Warwick's Hands: He enquir'd, not without some disturbance, from the Page, where he had it? He told him frankly That he being one of the first who got into the Street, after the Thief had bin seen upon the Wall, the Lustre of this Piece, made of Gold, and cover'd with Diamonds, had made him look that way, and perceiving what it was, he thought he might take and keep it. The Earl took it, and looking upon it for a considerable time, it at last seem'd to him of that thickness as to contain a double Bottom; he try'd to open it, with a sort of uneasiness, whereof he already began to suspect the cause, and being gone at some distance from the Page, at last open'd and found enclos'd within it, the Picture of his Lady, with these Words Engraven round about it, She is much better in my Heart.

At this fatal Sight he turn'd Pale, he shiver'd, his Soul was expos'd a Prey to the most cruel Reflections that could be: He lov'd my Lady Devonshire, he was sometimes inclin'd to justify her, but could not accomplish it: For, said he, the Master of this Jewel must doubtless be the same Person, who having got a Key to the Little-Gate of the Garden, was endeavouring to open it; but finding it broken in the Lock, scaladed the Wall, and afterwards run away; and the Jewel more than sufficiently shews it must be the Earl of Warwick. What could he think after so many convincing Proofs, especially since the Picture of his Lady fell into his Hands by so extraordinary an Accident? He was a going to abandon himself quite to Despair, when hearing the Noise of my Lady Anglesey's Coach, he Re-mounted his Horse, and spoke only a few Words as they pass'd by him, being resolv'd to hide his Grief, till he had Discours'd her about the Matter. The little Page vex'd to the Heart, that his Master had kept the Jewel, could not forbear to speak of it to Albine, whose Kinsman he was, and he extoll'd to such a degree the Value thereof, that the old Covetous Governess was heartily vex'd thereat, since she would fain have bin Mistress of it her self, let the Consequences have prov'd never so dangerous. So soon as she had an Opportunity of speaking to her Mistress, she told her of this unfortunate Accident; and never were so many prevailing Circumstances join'd together, to discover any Man, as there were here against the Earl of Warwick. Am I not to be pity'd, said she to Albine, that my Compliance with thy Advice should cost me all the Tranquillity of my Life? What was it that mov'd me to consent, that the Earl should take his Leave of me? Heavens are my Witness, that notwithstanding my Inclinations for him, I would not save his Life by one Criminal Sigh; and ever since that fatal Moment when I saw him first, I have left nothing unattempted to put him out of my Mind; but finding my self not in a Condition to encompass that, I have always stood upon my Guard, to observe my self, being sensible that my Heart was only too much inclin'd to him. Albine! What hast thou done, when thou did'st persuade me to entertain him? This so Charming, and at the same time, so Dangerous Sight, made such an Impression upon my Soul, as encreas'd all my Pains I suffer'd before upon his Account. Was not I unfortunate enough, unless you had taken so much pains to speak to me concerning him? Why did'st thou find out an Opportunity to bring him into the House? His Jewel being now in my Husband's Hands, is there any room for him to doubt, but that what the Head-Watchman told him is actually true? He will for the future look upon me only with Scorn, and the secret Reproaches I shall load my self withal, will serve only to make him discover the Confusion I am in. You must not, Madam, said Albine to her, torment your self at that rate, it will be no hard Task for you to persuade your whole Family, that if the Earl had attempted to come into the Garden, it must be by the King's Command, and without the least Knowledge of yours; and that the Ingenious Confession you have made concerning his Majesty's Sentiments, ought to be a convincing Proof, that you had not the least share in all that had happen'd. No, cry'd the Countess, I can't maintain a Lye with the same Confidence as I did the Truth; my Mother will read in my Eyes all what is within me: Alas! could she as well discover there my Innocence and Misfortunes, What is it I need then to fear? Whilst the young Countess was thus afflicting her self, the Earl of Devonshire, full of Impatience to impart the Secret to my Lord and my Lady Anglesey, took them into a remote Walk, and having discover'd to them what real cause of Suspicion he had of his Wife, he shew'd them her Picture within the Jewel of the Earl of Warwick: The Sight thereof overwhelm'd them with Grief; they found it very difficult to speak in her Justification; but after all, my Lady Anglesey could not resolve to condemn her, without being hear'd; so she desir'd her Son-in-law, not to take the least notice of it to her, till she had Discours'd the Point with her, which was to be done the next following Day.

My Lady Devonshire soon perceiv'd, that when my Lady Anglesey lock'd her self up with her in a Room, this was the time she was to undergo the Tryal of a most severe Inquisition: She trembled, and the Paleness of her Face was an undeniable Token of her disturb'd Thoughts. After having patiently endur'd a thousand Reproaches, without in the least interrupting the Countess: When she saw her Picture within the Jewel, she could no longer hear, with patience, her Mother upbraiding her with having presented it to the Earl; she fell out into such a Passion, and spoke upon that Head with so much vehemency (tho' without losing the respect due to her Mother) that she began to be fully convinc'd of her Innocence. My Lady Anglesey now fully satisfy'd of the Truth of what her Daughter had told her, promis'd to omit nothing that might conduce to make the Earl of Devonshire to have a favourable Opinion of her. The Countess begg'd with Tears in her Eyes to do her what service she could with her Lord; she was several times in a Mind to desire the favour of her to dismiss Albine; but fearing lest this malicious old Creature might still more exasperate the Earl of Devonshire against her, by putting into his Head certain Malicious Constructions concerning her Easiness, in consenting to an Interview with him, during her Father's and Husband's Journey to York, and consequently make the Breach wider; this prov'd the only Motive, that made her keep near her a Monster, which could not be kept at too great a distance.

My Lady Angelsey not only urg'd the matter home, and with extraodinary strength of Reason, to her Son-in law, but also engag'd her Word for his Wives Innocence; all the Fault being laid upon the King. And it was true in effect, that my Lady Devonshire knew nothing of the Mistery of this Jewel-case, and that no Body could have shew'd more Dissatisfaction, than she did at the Earl of Warwick, upon that Point: For, she would often say to Albine, What must the Limner think who drew this Picture? he will certainly believe this Favour was obtain'd with my Consent. O! Unfortunate I, cry'd she, what was I a doing when I had so much Complaisance as to hearken to the Earl! How dearly am I likely to pay for it! I shall, lose my Husband's Esteem; he will from hence forward be always inclin'd to Jealousy, which all my Precaution and good Conduct will not be able to remove. Oh, What signifies it to you, Madam, if he is jealous, said Albine, provided you have nothing wherewith to reproach your self? If you have committed an Error in something or other, you may give a free course to your Tears: But, supposing the Earl of Warwick had your Picture, there is nothing blameable in your regard, in the Case: Are not the Pictures of Soveraigns seen every where? And don't they even make Presents of them without being blam'd for it? These general Instances have no relation to my particular Case, reply'd she; a Queen may do abundance of things, which are innocent in her, would be interpreted as Criminal in me; I am neither so Blind, nor so Fool-hardy as to regulate my self by such like Examples. Then you have now conceiv'd a Hatred against the Earl, said Albine? Were I come to that Point of Hating him, reply'd she, I should not be disturb'd to that degree as I am; but there is still a certain Remembrance, and that so dear to me, that it follows me every where. I feel still within me a Frailty not to hate him; and am in vain upon my Guard against my own Heart, nothing but Time and Absence can cure me.

My Lady Devonshire understood by the Countess of Anglesey, all what had pass'd betwixt her and her Son-in-law. Your Conduct for the future, said she to her, must make good every thing I have engag'd for; For, my Dear Child, I had rather see you dead, than to find you bewitch'd to the best Man in the World. As I am of the same Opinion with you, reply'd she, the greatest favour you can do me, is to let me live in the Country; I will avoid the King, I will fly the World, and I will avoid every thing, that may robb me of this Happy Tranquillity, and may make me to displease you. My Lady Anglesey embracing her with a great deal of Tenderness, told her, she highly approv'd her Resolution; That it would be necessary to keep at a distance from Court, for some time, and that the King would certainly forget her: But, added she, has the Earl of Warwick no share in the Intrigue? Is it possible he should so far expose himself, as to get on the top of the Garden-wall, to suffer himself to be seiz'd by the Watch, and run the Hazard of so many ill Consequences that attended it, barely to be serviceable to his Master? He who a long time ago was always us'd to follow his own Inclinations, and not to obey the King's Commands any further than he found them suitable to his own satisfaction: Add to this, your Picture in his Jewel-case; if it was the King's, what made him keep it? 'Tis possible, Madam, reply'd the Countess, not without some Confusion (seeing her Mother's Head so full of Jealousy) 'tis possible the King might stand in fear of his Mistresses Curiosity, to avoid which he gave it to his Favourite. The old Countess seem'd well enough satisfy'd with this Reason, and going out of her Chamber, left the Daughter in her Closet entangled in a thousand Vexations.

Ought it not have bin sufficient for me, said she to her Confident, to obey with submission, without going about to give Counsel against my own Tranquillity? I desire to live in the Country all the remainder of my Life, to be watch'd, and to be debarr'd from all manner of Liberty: If they do accordingly, How can I complain? And if it be done, Why should I live? That cruel Dart that has Wounded me, still sticks in the very innermost part of my Heart, and I shall see no more him, whom I am not able to forget: Albine, how unfortunate am I! She cry'd for a considerable time, and her Governess, who long'd for nothing more than to be always managing an Intrigue whereby she might make her Advantage, did not fail to make Use of this Critical Juncture, to propose to her, to give an Account in a Letter, to the Earl, in what a Condition she was in. The Countess not only rejected her Proposition; but also forbid her ever to re-call to her Mind an Idea, she intended to efface out of her Remembrance.

The Departure of the Countess of Devonshire had at first rais'd the King's Anger; but hearing her scarce ever spoken of, and believing himself not well us'd, he made all his Addresses to Madam Grey, who became so intoxicated and haughty at this unexpected return of the King's Passion, that, without the least Regard to her best Friends, she sacrific'd every thing to her own Humour and Interest; as among the rest it happen'd to the Earl of Warwick.

The Head of the Watch-men, who had made the Earl to pass his time so scurvily in the late Nocturnal Adventure, dreaded the Consequence thereof might turn to his utter Ruin, unless he could counter-ballance the Earl's Authority, by some powerful Protection at Court: His Sister, happening to live with Madam Grey, he told her the whole Story, and what Apprehensions he was under; And this young Woman fearing no less than the Ruin of her Brother, by the great Power of the General and the Earl, threw her self at her Mistresses Feet, conjuring her to take Compassion of her Family, and to interceed with the King, in behalf of what had happen'd to her Brother out of Ignorance. Madam Grey was too well pleas'd with this Story, not to impart it to the young King, and to represent the whole, under such Circumstances of her own Invention, as prov'd very diverting to him. After having laugh'd very heartily for some time, he was very curious to know from whence the General and the Earl came at that time of Night; and as he knew the first to be a Person of downright Honesty, he judg'd, he might with much less Difficulty unfold the Mistery by him, than by the Earl of Warwick, who would be sure not to discover his Intrigue to him.

So soon as the King saw the General, he took him into his Closet, and told him with a very obliging Air, That he was somewhat dissatisfy'd with him, because he should keep him in Ignorance, of what was known to all the World besides, viz. his Quarrel with the Watch: If you have a mind to make your Peace with me, continued he, you must deal frankly, and let me know, at least, from whence you came at that time. Sir, reply'd the General, your Majesty would have put me to the greatest Nonplus that can be, had you ask'd me such a Question as this sometime ago; but at this time, now I have broken those Chains that prov'd too weighty for me, and am freed from a Tyrannical Passion, so little suitable to my Natural Inclinations, I am free to own, that the most surprizing Beauty of the young Countess of Devonshire, did rob me of the true Use of all my Reason. He then, like a blunt true-bred Soldier, laid open before the King his whole Passion for that Lady, his Inquietudes, and how he had bin manag'd by the Limner; but dissembled his Knowledge of the King's being his Rival, judging, that in point of Policy, he ought not to touch upon that String. The King interrupting him, told him with a Smile, Oh! my Lord, you forget to remember me in this Love Concern! The General was somewhat surpriz'd, but soon recollecting himself, Your Majesty, says he, knows so well how to conceal the Secrets of your Heart, that I could never be acquainted with what share your Majesty had in this Intrigue. We will ask Rosamond's Picture, continu'd the King, Smiling, perhaps she will be more sincere than we are. The General being not a little netled, Blush'd; Sir, said he, the sincere Confession I have made, without concealing the least thing from you, I hop'd, would not have bin recompenc'd with such Reproaches from your Majesty; I am much asham'd of it, and you will actually save me a great deal of Trouble, if you will be pleas'd to believe, That that time whilst I was sighing for my Lady Devonshire, is to me now like a Dream, the Idea whereof vanishes as soon as you are well awake; as I don't remember, what is pass'd, so I might easily forget to mention some Circumstances, without the least design: That this must be attributed rather to the Defect of my Memory, than to any want of Inclination, to give entire Satisfaction to your Majesty, concerning what you are desirous to know. Well, let that be as it will, reply'd the King, tell me whether the Earl of Warwick was along with you at this charming Assignation? No, Sir, said the General, we were both equally surpriz'd to meet one another at this pretty Seat; nay, we talk'd together for some Moments without knowing one another, and I could, with all the eagerness I shew'd, not get out of him a Reciprocal Confidence, to tell me from whence he came.

The King, who listen'd to him with much Attention, began to conceive some Jealousy at the Earl of Warwick, but would not give way to it, for fear of giving to himself some real occasion of Trouble: His Tenderness for the Earl did suppress his Jealousy, and he would even have bin dissatisfy'd with being inform'd of the real Truth thereof; so that his mind fluctuating, betwixt uncertain Hope and Fear, he did not in the least alter his obliging manner of Correspondence with this Favorite. But the Earl, whose Passion encreas'd in Proportion to the Multitude of Obstacles that obstructed his Happiness, could think of nothing else than how to encompass another Interview with the Countess of Devonshire; and as he took but little notice of those that came to make their Court to him, so the King found him much different in his Temper, from that Pleasant, Charming and Engaging Humour, which render'd, him so agreeable to all the World: He observ'd, not without Vexation, that not only his Deportment, but also his Person, was much chang'd; That his Spirits seem'd suppress'd; That his Health was but in an indifferent State; and in short, That his Pensiveness and Distractions carry'd him beyond himself sometimes, past all recovery. He was heartily disturb'd thereat, and it came more than once into his Thoughts, that perhaps the Earl might have bin wanting in the Respect and Fidelity due to him, in respect of my Lady Devonshire, and that he secretly lov'd her: But, as I told you before, he would check these Considerations, and continue to give him such Demonstrations of his Tenderness, as would have made him esteem himself infinitely Happy, had his Heart not bin engag'd so far as it was.

One Day, when the King had bin Talking to him a long while, concerning a Matter that acquir'd a great deal of Attention, being the Subject upon which he was to make a Speech to the Parliament; the better to help his Memory, he thought fit to dictate it to the Earl, for him to write it; but happening to stop at certain Intervals, the better to think upon what he was to dictate upon that Head, the Earl, who was so far from thinking upon what the King said, that he minded nothing else but his own Affairs, meaning the Countess, was on a sudden seiz'd with some Splenetick Thoughts, which nearly affecting his Soul, he, without considering that the Paper he had in his Hand must be perus'd by the King himself, writ these following Words: Hymen has reduc'd you under the Laws of a Husband, your Heart is his, and 'tis not in your Power to lo•e a Lover. He had questionless gone on, had not the King begun afresh; so that the Earl making a new Article, writ what was dictated to 〈◊〉; and stopping again for a while, to ruminate upon the Matter, and to render his Speech the more persuasive and insinuating, the Earl, who was quite taken up with the Countess, writ again these Lines: Love not a Husband whose dreadful Power, does snatch from thee thy Heart in spite of thy self, and who without consulting thy Heart, offers Violence to thy Inclinations.

The King concluded the Speech which the Earl writ, without considering it was upon the same Paper, where he had set down these Verses, and it being late, his Majesty folding it up without reading it, and putting it up in his Pocket, went to pay a Visit to the Dutchess of York, his Mother. The Earl of Warwick went home at the same time, from whence he sent immediately a Messenger to the Dutchess of Norsolk, Sister to the Countess of Devonshire: He knew that this Lady was then enquiring for a Compleat Gardener, for the Countess of Anglesey, who now wholly applying her self to the Diversions of the Country, had a mind to have their Gardens quite alter'd. The Earl of Warwick having then a House, or rather to speak more properly, a Palace, at Chelsey, near London, adorn'd with all the Beauties of Art and Nature, especially by its most Delightful Situation upon the very Bank of the Thames, he spar'd no Cost nor Care to make it one of the most Charming Places in the World. It was for this Purpose, he had obtain'd out of France, the Designs and Scheme of that celebrated Gardener, who had the Management of those Famous Gardens of Agnes Lorez, Mistress to King Charles VII. of France, appertaining to a fine Country Seat, near Vincennes; Two Gardeners being likewise sent him out of France, to be employ'd in the Designing of his Gardens, he sent one of them to the Dutchess of Norsolk, to shew her the Draughts they had brought along with them. The Gardener being a sensible Fellow, so well discharg'd himself of his Commission, according to the Earl's Instructions, that my Lord Norfolk soon agreed with him, to be sent to my Lady Anglesey, and the Gardener desiring to have a Fellow allow'd him, to assist him, she willingly consented to his Request. This Employment being design'd for Berincour, a Native of France, his Language perfectly suited with his Master's Intention, but it was not the same with his Habit; for being very well known at Court, where he us'd frequently to attend the Earl, and of a Gentile Make, it was not an easie matter to manage his Disguise, so as to be past all hazard of being discover'd: However, this Point being encompass'd almost to a Wonder, away he goes along with the Gardener, to execute his Master's Commission, and to deliver a Letter to the Countess of Devonshire, full of those most Respectful and Passionate Expressions, that were due to a Lady of her Merit and Birth, and suitable to represent his Passion in the most lively Terms that could be invented.

The King staid not long with the Dutchess his Mother, but soon having engag'd her at Play, wherein he went Halves with her, soon left the Apartment, and straightways went to that of Madam Grey, who gave him a slender Check for staying so long. Don't be out of Humour, said he to her, I have bin busie in very serious Matters, and I staid but a very little while with the Dutchess of York, because I would be here so soon as possible I could. I will read to you, the Speech I intend to make at the opening of the next Parliament, because I have had no time to peruse and revise it as yet. I hope, Sir, said she, Caressing him, you will read it aloud, which the King did; but coming to that Passage where the Earl had witten his Verses, he was surpriz'd beyond Expression! What do you think of this, said he to his Mistress? Is it by chance, or done on purpose? Who is it he speaks of and who is it he is so much in love with? Madam Grey read them with the utmost Attention, and without consulting a Conjurer soon guess'd at the true meaning thereof. Oh! Traytor, cry'd she, he intended to make me his Bubble! The King was touch'd to the quick with these Words, for knowing Madam Grey to be one of the most ••…able Persons in the World, he suspected an Intrigue, betwixt her and the Earl; so that at last his Passion for the Countess of Devonshire was reviv'd. Quite overwhelm'd with these Thoughts, he with a fierce Countenance look'd upon the Fair Widow, without sparing all the Reproaches his Rage could inspire him with, or affording her any time for her Justification; and so arising on a sudden from his Seat, was a going to leave her, she then throwing her self at his Feet, and Embracing him with Tears in her Eyes, I am resolv'd, said she, not to live, unless your Majesty will hear me. Sir, I am not Guilty: The Words which I let drop, without considering the matter, concerning the Earl of Warwick, have not the least relation to me, but only to his Treachery to you. At these Words the King's Anger seem'd to be somewhat appeas'd, the Beautiful Eyes of Madam Grey, all overflown with Tears, had touch'd him to the quick, and he now blam'd himself for being the Occasion thereof; so he sat down again, and Madam Grey laying hold of this favourable Disposition, with tender Looks intermix'd with Sighs, told him, I was unacquainted, Sir, with your Passion for the Countess of Devonshire, and I might have bin so for a great while longer, had not the Earl of Warwick taken so much Pains to inform me of it, by many of his Letters; I am a going to shew to your Majesty it was he also, that told me, you intended to fetch her from Twittenham, and thus I acted in concert with him, in order to thwart your Design: 'Twas he that plagu'd me to load you with Reproaches, and without him, I should have shew'd much more Tenderness and Respect; but when he told me I was upon the point of losing you, I like a desperate Woman was soon persuaded, that he had so much respect for me, as to be altogether in my Interest, and that this was the only Motive, that made him hazard every thing in trusting me with a Secret, the Discovery whereof would in all probability make him forfeit all your Favours: I would have conceal'd it within my Breast, were it not that now I am convinc'd what was it that engag'd him to make me his Confident, wherein Affection had not the least Share; 'Tis so far from it, Sir, that he should have a Passion for me, that he loves the Countess of Devonshire, he is your Rival, and I his Shield, to be interpos'd betwixt you and her, in order to Cure your old Passion by a new one: Don't disdain to call to mind his Conduct, when you laid open your Heart to him; look into these Letters, reflect upon these Verses:‘ Hymen has reduc'd you under the Laws of a Husband, your Heart is his, and 'tis not in your Power to love a Lover.’

You see Sir, said she, how every thing agrees to what I tell you: He thinks the Countess loves her Husband; That he fears he shall never obtain her; That this touches him to the Heart, and, That, thereupon he has scarce any regard to what your Majesty dictated to him; but overcome by his Passion, he writes those very things, he had much better have kept secret, and that upon the same Paper you have now in your Hands; nay, you see him carry'd to such a Pitch of Extravagancy, that he goes on and Writes these Lines:‘Love not a Husband whose dreadful Power, does snatch from thee thy Heart in spite of thy self, and who without consulting thy Heart, offers Violence to thy Inclinations.’

This doubtless is said in relation to the Countess's sudden Departure, he knowing her to be dissatisfy'd upon that Point, like a Man of Sense, makes Use of this as an Argument to cool her Affection for her Husband. Now your Majesty sees, continu'd she, how little I deserv'd these Reproaches you loaded me with to so high a Degree, and how small a Share of Affection the Earl bore to me. She might have held on Talking thus till Night, without being minded by the King, who soon perceiving that his Jealousy was ill-grounded, and this his Jealousy changing to a most furious Anger, continu'd all this while 〈◊〉 a deep study. Madam Grey being too well acquainted with the cause thereof to interrupt him in his Thoughts, kept silence for a while, till the King broke out on a sudden, as if he was speaking to the Earl. O! Perfidious Man! Is this the Return thou makest me for all the Kindness I have shown thee! for the entire Confidence I have put in thee! for the Riches and other Favours I have heap'd upon thee! What a Piece of Treachery is this? He has snatch'd from me a young Mistress! whom I lov'd, and unto whom I was not altogether indifferent. He has left no Stone unturn'd, Madam, to rob me likewise of your Heart: Could any Letters be more cunningly devis'd than these he has written to you? How Miserable is the Condition of Princes! being either hated out of Fear, or else despis'd when they enter into a Familiarity with their Subjects; so that they scarce ever taste the true Relish of thinking themselves really belov'd.

He paus'd at these Words a little, and his Melancholly Reflections encreasing with the Considerations of what Favours he had bestow'd upon the Earl, and how ill he had bin rewarded by him, he Sigh'd, much dissatisfy'd within himself, for retaining still some Kindness for a Person that deserv'd it so little. At last turning his Eyes, with a tender Look, upon Madam Grey, he begg'd of her not to remember what he had told her, during the first Motions of his Jealousy; she appear'd satisfy'd thereat, but was not a little discompos'd at the King's Melancholly, which she endeavour'd to disperse by her pleasant and engaging Conversation, which at any other time, but this, would have bin very diverting to him, but now had but little, if not a contrary Effect upon him; for he took his Leave of her, not without some dissatisfaction, because she had laid open to him the ill Conduct of his Favourite.

The Earl of Warwick appear'd not at Court that Night, being wholly taken up with making the necessary Dispositions for Berincour's Journey; he open'd no less than three times, the Letter he was to deliver to the Countess of Devonshire, making every time certain Additions, and so many superfluous Repetitions, as took away a great part of its first Beauty. He also sent a Letter to Albine, and a Jewel of a good Value, and yet after all, was not contented with what he had either written or done, fearing less some sinister Accident or other should disconcert all his Precautions, or that the Countess of Devonshire might be exasperated at his Proceeding.

The King pass'd that Night under a thousand Inquietudes, which would not suffer him so much as to think of sleeping; the Beauty, Grace, and Engaging Air of the Countess of Devonshire, coming a fresh into his Mind, tormented his Soul with an irresistable Power: He understood by the Verses of the Earl's, that he had not as yet made any sufficient Progress there to make him Happy; and on the other Hand, reflecting upon his late Conduct, he had all the reason to fear he should not be more Happy himself. Entangled in these different Considerations, his Passion at last gave place to his Anger, on account of the Earl of Warwick: He took a Resolution to Banish him into the most Northern Parts of Scotland, among those dreadful Mountains, where the Inhabitants (at that time) were distinguishable only from Savage Beasts by their Human Shape. Here it is, said he, where he shall entertain the Rocks with his Passion; here he shall send forth his Sighs to the Sea, whilst I will remain Deaf to all his Complaints, till I have made him to do a long Penance for his Infidelity. But after all, considering the many Obligations he ow'd him, this oblig'd him to alter his Opinion, and to make him acknowledge only, and repent of his Fault. However, whilst he continu'd struggling betwixt Gratitude and Anger, for fear the last should again get the upper hand against a Person whom he was inclin'd to Pardon, if he would in the least render himself worthy of it, he resolv'd, rather than to speak to him himself, to engage some Body else to do it in his behalf.

He pitch'd upon the Earl of Pembroke to undertake this Task: He was also the King's Favourite, a Man not inferior in Point of Magnificence and Gallantry to any Person at Court; he was Witty, of a Charming Conversation, Young, Handsome, and who spar'd nothing to render himself agreeable to the Fair Sex, and that with good Success. The King having order'd him to be call'd to Court early in the Morning, he was yet in Bed, but made all the haste he could, being impatient to know what the King had to command him. He was no sooner admitted into his Bed Chamber, but he told him. Your best Friend has betray'd me; The Earl of Warwick never merited the Tenderness I shew'd him; I made him a Partaker in my Heart, but my Favours were very ill bestow'd. The Earl of Pembroke hearken'd to the King with a great deal of Trouble, because he entirely lov'd the Earl of Warwick; What is it you tell me, Sir, cry'd he? Is it possible he should be wanting in what is owing to so Great a King? Certainly he was not engag'd in restoring King Henry and Queen Margarete to the Throne? Ah! I don't doubt, but that some body or other, envious of his Good Fortune, has insinuated something to your Majesty to procure his Ruin. Believe your own Eyes, reply'd the King, giving him the Billets he had written to Madam Grey, and his Speech with the before mention'd Verses. The Earl stood surpriz'd to the highest Degree, with his Eyes fix'd to the Ground, without uttering one Word. I am well pleas'd, said the King, to see you so much concern'd, there being but few Favourites so generous, as to share the Misfortunes of those whom they think powerful enough to do them a Mischief; but since you are so much concern'd for him, Go and advise him to merit his Pardon, by an Ingenuous Confession of his Intrigue with the young Countess of Devonshire; this being the only Means to appease my Anger. I am a going to conduct him hither at your Majesty's Feet, answer'd the Earl. No, cry'd the King, let him shew never so much Repentance, I will not speak to him, and I could find in my Heart, never to see him again, but rather to send him into some dreadful Solitude, where he might at his own leisure, reflect upon his Fault; but that some Remnants of Tenderness plead within me for his better Treatment: In short, let him be sincere, and he may be sav'd.

The Earl of Pembroke went immediately to the Earl of Warwick, but so much overwhelm'd with Grief, as is scarce to be express'd. To give the Reader the better Idea of the true Occasion thereof, I shall be oblig'd to give an Account of the Whole Adventure from its first Original.

'The Earl of Pembroke after his Return from Rome (where he had spent some Months) into England, receiv'd the Visits of many Persons of Note, and among the rest of my Lord Stanley, Brother to the Countess of Devonshire: This Lord took notice in the Earl's Apartment, of a certain most curious Picture, representing Psyche in a most magnificent Palace, said to be Built for her by Cupid, adorn'd with all the Embellishments that could be invented; nothing could appear more lovely than this young Princess her self; in short, she was such, as might inspire Love to love it self. My Lord Stanley was so much taken with the Picture, that not being able to keep his Eyes from it, he shorten'd his Visit, and return'd home with a full Resolution to have the Picture, cost what it would, tho' he could not well devise how to encompass it, they being Rivals, and consequently not over-complaisant for one another. They both made love to a very Charming Actress, named Lelia, who having always shewn more Inclination for my Lord Stanley than for my Lord Pembrook, occasion'd this Jealousy betwixt them. My Lord Stanley rightly judg'd, that Lelia might easily get the Picture from a Person, who had always distinguish'd himself by his Generosity, and who would not refuse her such a thing, even tho' he had not bin in Love with her. My Lord was not backward in caressing and telling his Mistress every thing he could think of, in case she could get the Picture; so, both mov'd by joint Interest and Inclination, Mrs. Lelia had the Picture from the Earl as soon as she ask'd for it. She scarce gave her self leisure to cast her Eyes upon it, being highly impatient to satisfy my Lord Stanley's Curiosity with all possible Diligence, in which she had succeeded to her Desire, had it not bin for a sinister Accident that interven'd.'

'My Lord Pembrook happening to return my Lord Stanley's Visit, happen'd just to be in the Room, when Mrs. Lelia's Messenger came in with the Picture, being eager to deliver it, in hopes of a good Present; so, that tho' my Lord made him a Sign of going back with it, as soon guessing it was the Picture of the Beautiful Psyche, the Fellow open'd the Coverture, and expos'd it to the Earl of Pembrook's Sight, who appear'd not a little nettled thereat: They both Blush'd together, my Lord appear'd surpriz'd, and the Earl smil'd with a malicious Air. I should have bin vex'd, said he, if I should have seen my Picture in another Place; but I think it but reasonable that Lelia should amuse you by such like small Presents, when I have reason to believe that she bestows upon me other Favours of much more Value than yours. I am not surpriz'd, at what you tell me, reply'd my Lord, I always thought you more Happy than my self, and even your Absence has not bin able to procure to me the least Advantage with her. The Earl, who knew very well how the Matter stood, soon put an End to the Conversation, wherein he could take but small delight, and going straightways to Lelia, over-loaded her with a thousand Reproaches, according to her Deserts; to all which she answer'd with Indifferency, she having conceiv'd a certain Opinion, That if any thing could fix that erring Star or Planet of my Lord Stanley's, it would be this Sacrifice she had offer'd to him.'

'About that time, all the Discourse in London was concerning that Stupendious Structure the Earl of Warwick was a Building at Chelsey: Every one found out some new Embellishments and Beauties in it every Day; and there were very few but what would go to take a View of it, before he had Lodg'd there some of his Beautiful Mistresses, and consequently render'd it inaccessible. He had a great Number of Workmen there, but at the same time seldom came there himself, being obliged constantly to attend the King.'

'The Earl of Pembrook vex'd to the Heart at Lelia, without being able to Cure himself of his Passion for her, resolv'd to make this a retiring Place, to indulge his Grief. After having walk'd for a considerable time, he seated himself on the Bank of a Rivulet, which flowing through the Green Fields, over a Sandy Bottom, and being curiously planted with many large Trees near the edge, made this Place both very Shady and Refreshing in the hot Season; looking upon this Place as very suitable to his present Circumstances, he past some time in a very pensive Condition, till at last he writ certain Verses in his Table-book; he happening then to hear the Voices of divers Persons coming that Way, he got up, and being resolv'd not to be seen by them, mov'd from them with so much haste, that none of them could perceive him near hand, tho' they guess'd by his Habit, that he must be a Person of Quality: These prov'd a Company of Ladies, who soon saw themselves not mistaken in their Guess, when the Countess of Devonshire, who walk'd a few Paces before the rest, saw upon the Ground a Table-book the out-side whereof was Plated with and Engraven in Gold, set at the Edges with Diamonds of a considerable Value.'

'The Countess of Anglesey committed her Daughter to the Care of the Countess of Oxford, to take her along with her to Chelsey, in Company of the Countess of Bath, Mrs. Howard, and my Lord Stanley, they being all satisfy'd that the Earl of Warwick was gone abroad a Hunting with the King. The Countess of Devonshire shew'd them the fine Table-book, but finding it fastned with a very small Lock, and no Key in it, there was no possibility of opening it, unless they would break it all to Pieces: They were all inclin'd to do it, except my Lord Stanley, who oppos'd it, alledging, That without doubt, he that own'd and had lost it, would soon come to enquire after it, so the Countess of Devonshire kept it. After 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 they had taken several turns, my Lord Stanley told his Sister and Mrs. Howard, with a low Voice, That they would turn into another Walk, and no sooner had they done so, but he ask'd for the Table-book; I have, added he, a small Key, which I believe will open it; I would not discover the thing to the rest of the Ladies, because, if I am not mistaken, I have some Share in the Secret. But I will remain Mistress of it, said his Sister with a Smile, and therefore can do no more for your satisfaction, than to make Use of it; and as I take a singular Delight in unfolding of Misteries, so I should be much pleas'd to meet with a Diverting Secret. When they open'd it, they found the following Lines upon the first Leaf:'‘The Object of my Love is offensive to me, I was not able to engage her; I will be for Change, 'tis a Pleasure to Revenge ones self by a happy Indifference.’

'Our Unknown is dissatisfy'd with his Condition, said the Countess of Devonshire laughing; but he takes his own Way, and I suppose he is happy in his Liberty by this time. Ah! Madam, reply'd Mrs. Howard, that is no sure Rule; I have heard People talk upon that Head, who have found themselves, more than once in their Life time, put to such Tryals, they were free to own, that the Wounds of the Heart, are far different from others, and prove very hard to be cur'd. I conjure you Brother, said the Countess of Devonshire, turning to my Lord Stanley, tell us in good earnest your Thoughts upon this Point. I am afraid I shall speak against the Fair Sex, and thus you intend to expose me to the Indignation of the most Aimable Person in the World, said he, looking upon Mrs. Howard. You can't say nothing amiss, in what you are a going to tell, my Lord, said she, I have already conceiv'd such an Opinion of you, as with all the Art you have, you will not be able to alter. I will tell you then, continu'd he, you are under a great Mistake, if you imagine that People fix their Love now for any considerable time; they tell us indeed, That in former Ages, People were absolutely True and Faithful, That let their Fetters be never so heavy, they worship'd them, whether well or ill treated, it was no matter; they lov'd many Years successively without being able to make their Reason so far to get the upper hand of their Passion, as to incline to a Change: But at present we take quite contrary Methods to those, and such as prove much more Commodious; commonly the Person that Changes first, is scarce a few Moments beforehand with the other he has lov'd; we now love our Mistresses as Butterflies do Flowers: If a loving Couple now part without falling quite to Pieces, and exposing themselves to the Publick, they say they have done the finest thing they could do, and that they ought not to be dissatisfy'd with one another.'

'If I had the least Inclination for an Intrigue, said Mrs. Howard, this Discription of yours would cure me of it for all my Life time. There is no General without an Exception, reply'd my Lord, and I my self, Madam, dare undertake to be one of the first who can give you an Instance, that there are even now, those who know how to love at another rate, than what I just now spoke of. I can't tell, whether you can or not, added she; but this I am sure of, I shall make no Tryal thereof. Look here, said the Countess, interrupting her, some more Verses, let us see whether they are of the same Stamp with the preceeding ones.'‘ Lelia is Prodigal of her Charms in the Arms of a Triumphant Rival. Ah! Let us take revenge, let us hasten to sacrifice her before his Eyes. But alas! how many Tears will this Fury of mine cost me, by delivering up what I love to my most Cruel Despair? But no matter, let us revenge our selves, since this Inhumane Creature, has not as much as vouchsafed to make one Step to allay my Pain and Despair.’

'The Countess being not ignorant, that her Brother was in Love with Lelia, she told him with a kind of a Malicious Smile; you were in the right, to concern your self so far, as you did, in what might be contain'd in this Table-book; you see it complains of your Mistress, But is it you that is the Occasion of it? or is your Condition no better than that of this Unfortunate Lover? You reveal my Secrets without my Consent, reply'd he; And what would Mrs. Howard think of me, if I should say I had reason to be contented? She would interpret it perhaps as a Piece of Vanity. The Person you speak of, my Lord, is not so very valuable for her Conduct, reply'd she, from thence to inferr the least Disadvantagious Consequence, in boasting of your Happiness. Tis true, said he, People have conceiv'd some Prejudice against her Conduct, but notwithstanding this, what she does for me deserves Acknowledgment; For she prefers me to the Earl of Pembrook, who you know has generally the Preference before most of the other Courtiers. He then told them what had happen'd concerning the Picture of Psyche. Truly, Brother, said the Countess, I begin to fear the Consequence of this Affair; he seems to me most furiously angry, and as doubtless he will come this way to look for his Table-book, so, if he finds you here, it will prove an additional Trouble to him; I conjure you by our Friendship, to leave us, and I will go back to the Countess of Oxford, and desire her not to tell him who I am. And do you think he does not know you, said Mrs. Howard? No, added the Countess, I come so seldom to Court, that if he has seen me at all, I dare say he does not remember me. My Lord Stanley desir'd his Sister to be satisfy'd, which she promis'd she would, provided he would stay no longer with them. He was no sooner gone, but she told Mrs. Howard, I think I did not amiss, in not suffering the Earl of Pembrook to have the Dissatisfaction of meeting with a Happy Rival, who is the Subject of his Complaints in these Verses. Mrs. Howard commended her Prudence, telling her, That she should have bin afraid of a Quarrel betwixt them.'

'In the mean while, the said Earl, having not without much Inquietude, discover'd the Loss of his Table-book, he hasten'd back to the Place from whence he came, and where he made Use of it; but not finding it there, and not questioning, but that the Ladies, whom he endeavour'd to avoid, had found it, he made up to a Walk, where he saw them; they prov'd to be the Countess of Oxford and the Countess of Bath, who expected the Return of the Countess of Devonshire: He accosted them, and after having signify'd his Satisfaction at their Happy Meeting, begg'd them to restore to him his Table-book. We found it, said the Countess of Oxford, without knowing that it belonged to you, my Lord; We were so far Mistresses of our own Curiosity, that if you have any Secrets in 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 it, be assur'd we are ignorant of them. I don't pretend, Madam, reply'd he, to deserve the trouble you could give you of the least Concerns in my Affairs; so I am not in the least surpriz'd at your Indifferency upon that Account. We are not so indifferent as you imagine, reply'd the Countess of Bath, we were actually for breaking it, rather than not have it open'd, but my Lord Stanley oppos'd it.'

'At these Words the Earl chang'd Colour, and had these Ladies bin in the least acquainted with both their Concerns, they might soon have discover'd, both in his Eyes and Countenance, the Discomposure of his Mind: But, as they knew nothing of the Adventure of the Picture, they told him, it was the Countess of Devonshire, who had found and kept it; she is Walking in the next Wood, said they, with Mrs. Howard and my Lord Stanley, where you may ask for it. He parted from them with a most profound Reverence, but not without some Vexation, considering my Lord Stanley was with the Countess of Devonshire, and fearing, lest he might have open'd the Table-book, and read his Complaints against Lelia, in order to divert himself with her at his cost.'

'Distracted with these Considerations, he came to a Shady Walk, which my Lord Stanley happening to cross at the same time, but so, as to endeavour to avoid being seen by they Earl, and this creating in him a Suspicion, that he had the Table-book, and intended to keep it for his Diversion, he follow'd him a-pace, crying after him, Stay, stay, my Lord; and so advancing in a threatening Posture, with his Hand upon his Sword, demanded the Table-book of him. My Lord, reply'd fiercely, he had none of his Table-book, and so likewise laying his Hand to his Sword, they without further ado, Drew upon one another, and, Attack'd one another with such Resolution, that, in all Probability had prov'd Fatal to them, had not the Countess of Devonshire and Mrs. Howard, who were not far off, run to them, and with most violent Outcries for Help, thrown themselves most courageously betwixt their Swords, to part these Two Rivals.'

'My Lord Stanley had no great reason to be dissatisfy'd, as having the Preference before his Rival with Mrs. Lelia: And as for the Earl of Pembrook, he had no sooner cast his Eyes upon the Fair Countess of Devonshire, but struck with Admiration at her Beauty, this so entirely raz'd out of his Mind, all the Remembrance of Lelia, as if his Heart had never sigh'd after any thing but the Countess, who now stood before him, and whom he had seen several times before without being struck with her Perfections; whether it were that he did not then take so much notice of her, as now, or whether the Fatal Hour of surrendering his Heart, were not then come, we will not determine: But now, taking the Point of his Sword in his Hand, he presented it, with a most Gallant and Respectful Air, to the Lady, and with one Knee bent to the Ground, I am vanquish'd, Madam, said he; I begg at your Hands a Life I could wish to sacrifice in your Service. I did not intend to disarm your Person, said she, but only to allay your Indignation, intreating him to rise from the Ground: But, my Lord, since you have given me Encouragment to desire a Favour of you, grant my Request, and be Friends immediately with my Brother; I am satisfy'd it will not be his Fault, if you are not so, and the Subject of your Quarrel being so inconsiderable, I should be much asham'd to have undertaken this Reconciliation, without succeeding in it. You are capable of doing every thing, reply'd the Earl, you are absolute Mistress of my Destiny. At these Words, advancing some Steps towards my Lord Stanley, he did the same towards him, and so, without enlarging further upon the Matter, they embrac'd, and talk'd together like very good Friends; when the Countesses of Oxford and Bath somewhat surpriz'd at their long stay, came to look after them. Being soon inform'd concerning the Quarrel betwixt the Earl and my Lord, they oblig'd them once more to embrace one another, and engaged their Honour for their being good Friends for the future; the Earl of Pembrook being very forwards in making the first Step, because he flatter'd himself, that by going along with my Lord Stanley, he might find an easie Access into the Earl of Devonshire's House.'

'The Countess of Oxford had a Magnificent Supper ready for her Guests in the best Appartment of the House, adorn'd with many fine Statues and Pictures, and among the rest a most excellent Piece of Psyche: The Earl of Pembrook looking very attentively upon it, I am afraid, said the Countess of Devonshire, least this Picture should revive in you certain Motions of spite against my Brother. Ah! Madam, said he, I am far from reflecting at this time upon the Subject of our Quarrel; no, I have no more Passion for Lelia, I don't regret the Loss of my Psyche; but the Felicity of Love, Madam, since I could wish my self to be in her Place; I would Wound a certain Female Mortal, which appears to me to be so far plac'd above the rest of her Sex, that nothing less than an Immortal ought to presume to please her. Your Thoughts soar very high, my Lord, reply'd the Countess: But this must be attributed to your high Deserts. She gave him no further Leisure to continue his Discourse, his Eyes sufficiently betray'd his Sentiments, and whatever Care he took all the remaining part of the Evening, to come near her, she was so dexterous in shunning all Opportunities, tho' without the least shew of Affectation, that he could never meet with her, but in the Company of other Ladies. He was not insensible of it; Love makes Use of Perspective-glasses, which discover at a distance such things, as indifferent Persons would scarce take notice of. He was not much acquainted with this kind of Reservedness; his great Qualifications, join'd to the Charms of his Wit, most commonly sheltred him against such like disagreeable Accidents, and his Passion being as yet in its beginning, he flatter'd himself with Success, if he could apply himself in good earnest, in the pursuit of his expected Happiness.'

'He manag'd Matters so well with my Lord Stanley, that he conducted him to the Countess his Sister; but found it a much more easie Task to oblige my Lord Devonshire, for whom he had no more than a general Complaisence in point of Policy, than to please her whom he Ador'd. Her Deportment towards him, was kept in so exact a Ballance betwixt a handsome Decorum and an exact Reservedness, that he had not the least occasion either to complain or to flatter himself; at the same time there was nothing that could have prov'd a greater Affliction to him, considering it was impossible for him to quit these flattering Hopes that supported his Passion: He wanted Patience to hearken to her Discourse with Complaisance, because he even wanted Resolution to discover his Passion, having miss'd a thousand Opportunities that fell in his Way, for fear of displeasing this Beautiful Person: Thus smothering his Secret in the very innermost Recess of his Heart, the only Comfort he had to allay his Pain, was, that he flatter'd himself, her Indifferency to be the same to all the World; That time might afford him some unlook'd for Assistance, and that at least he should have the Pleasure of seeing of her very often. But notwithstanding his Silence, the Countess was sensible of his tender Sentiments for her, which perhaps might have made some Impressions upon her, had not the Merits of the Earl of Warwick so far touch'd her Heart, as to put it beyond all Capacity of taking notice of the Earl of Pembrook's Passion.'

This was the State of Affairs at Court, when the King told the Earl of Pembrook, That he was in Love with the Countess of Devonshire, as well as the Earl of Warwick, and order'd him, as I told you before, to go to the said Earl, and to engage him to make such an Ingenious Confession as might merit his Pardon. It was then the Earl of Pembrook began to call to mind how often he had observ'd the Countess of Devonshire in a Pensive Condition; how often he had heard certain Sighs, that seem'd to escape her unawares; what unseasonable Answers she us'd to give, and with what Satisfaction she us'd to hear them talk of the Earl of Warwick. As he was ignorant that she knew him, so he little suspected of suffering any thing upon his Account on that side; but at this very Moment he began to be fully convinc'd of his approaching Misfortunes, since he met with a Rival in the Person of his best Friend, and such a one, whose inevitable Destruction was at hand, if the King's Indignation were but never so little heighten'd against him. He stood in need of all his Generosity, to espouse, at this Conjuncture, the Interest of the Earl of Warwick, which perhaps he would not have done, had not his Master's Passion for the Countess threaten'd him with the same Dangers; so that considering how blameable it would appear to his own Heart, if he should be instrumental in adding to his Disgrace, which so sensibly afflicted him already, he resolv'd to sacrifice Love to Friendship, and be serviceable to his Rival, as long as he continu'd to be unfortunate; but to break with him, as soon as he should cease to be so.

He understood that the Earl of Warwick had not bin gone to Bed, till within two Hours before, having spent the rest of the Night, in giving Instructions to his Gentleman, concerning what he was to say to the Countess of Devonshire and to Albine: He was so very careful not to forget any thing, that he repeated the same thing a thousand times, and now after his Departure, thinking to take some rest, was soon disturb'd by the Earl of Pembrook. After having given him an Account of the whole matter, Don't think, added he, of justifying your self, by disowning the thing, for the King has order'd me to produce before your Face the Witnesses of your Passion for the Countess, and of your Breach of Faith to him; he is resolv'd to be well inform'd of the whole, even to the meanest Circumstance, and then he will consider, whether to do you Justice, or afford you his Pardon. The Earl of Warwick enrag'd at the sight of the Letters he writ to Madam Grey, That Perfidious Woman, cry'd he, has made me a Sacrifice: She was in the right on't, to imagine, that it was not on account of her own Person, I should scarce have taken so much Pains for her; but time will come, when I shall make her sensible of my Indignation. 'Tis now no Time to think of Revenge, said the Earl, you must find a way to appease the King. And how is that to be done, reply'd the Earl of Warwick? He knows already, that I love my Lady Devonshire, and how can I then make it known to him? And as for my renouncing this Passion, all the joint Powers upon Earth shall never compel me to do it. The King wants to know whether you are belov'd, said the Earl of Pembrook. Belov'd, reply'd the Earl of Warwick, I know nothing of that; but if I am not, I don't despair of being so. The Earl of Pembrook found himself touch•d to the quick at these Words; However, he so well dissembled the Torments of his Mind, that he discover'd nothing of it at that time. Questionless, added he, you are enter'd into a very pleasing Correspondence with this Fair Lady. 'Tis true, said the Earl, I have writ to her, and she has somtimes sent me an Answer. And that full of Tenderness, said my Lord Pembrook. No, answer'd he, she acts with a great deal of Circumspection and Mistrust. How can this be consistent, reply'd he, with the Liberty that was given you, to have an Interview with her in the Night time? How I, cry'd the Earl! Yes you, reply'd he; the King knows the whole Intrigue Alas! What then would he have more of me, reply'd my Lord Warwick, with an impatient Countenance? He would have, said the Earl, an exact account of all the Transactions belonging thereto, from the greatest to the meanest Circumstance.

The Earl of Warwick pausing a while upon the Matter, and afterwards turning his Eyes towards him, with a settled Assurance, My Lord, said he, I respect the King as my Soveraign, and as my Master; and I may say it without Vanity, That without me, he had perhaps bin neither one nor the other: But I love him besides all this, as the best of my Friends. I begg of him, to take Pity of the Frailties of my Heart, which not always consults Reason, before it surrenders it self: I fell in Love with the Countess of Devonshire, before I knew any thing of his Majesty's Passion for her: When he did me the Honour to make me his Confident therein, it was too late for me to hope for a Cure; I rather cherish'd my Fetters, and conceal'd them with all possible Care, not so much out of fear to disoblige the King, as out of a desire of pleasing the Person I Ador'd: At last her Departure threw me into so deep a Melancholly, Vexation and Extravagancy, that I discover'd my self, in Writing certain Verses instead of the Speech the King dictated to me. Madam Grey has taken this Opportunity to contrive my Ruin, by shewing my Letters; but after all, What is it they can do to me? As long as I am prepossess'd with the same Passion as I now am, nothing, but what has a relation to that, will have any Effect upon me: All the rest, whether good or bad, whether Rewards or Chastisements, all this, I say, will not affect me: And this is perhaps the only Thing in this Intrigue, the King is not acquainted with as yet; and this being all I can tell him, pray let him know it from me. The Earl of Pembrook, who was his real Friend, desir'd him to alter his Resolutions, and by an account, without reserve, to appease his Majesty. He told him, He could say no more, That he was not Happy, but that, if his Fortune should prove more favourable, all the most Cruel Torments should not force from his Mouth, as much as one Word, that might prove injurious to the Honour of a Lady that was so dear to him; and that it could not but vex him to the Heart, to find the King to have so ill an Opinion of him, as to think him capable of betraying the Favours of a Lady. The Earl of Pembrook represented to him the ill Consequences of his Obstanacy. But he told him, He would expect the Stroak with Tranquillity, having this secret Satisfaction, That he knew nothing wherewith to reproach himself.

These Ambiguous Answers made the Earl of Pembrook's Thoughts fluctuate betwixt Hope and Fear; sometimes he thought the Earl no more Happy than himself, and at other times he did not doubt, but that he liv'd in certain Hopes of being belov'd; but as all this remain'd in an incertitude, so the more he abandon'd himself to these Reflections, the more matter of Trouble he encounter'd with, in unfolding the Mistery. Alas! said he, I have not had Courage enough to speak, nay, not so much as to suffer my Eyes, to make known my present Condition; and the Earl has writ to this Countess, nay, has had an Interview with her in the midst of a dark Night: For, tho' he did not absolutely confess it, who can doubt it, after what has happen'd when he was taken up by the Watch? See how I pay for my Timidity, my respectful Silence is punish'd, as if it were a Crime. Thus Comfortless he goes back to the Court, with so dejected a Countenance, as if he had bin very Sick: The King was surpriz'd at the sight thereof, and could not for bear to shew him some peculiar Marks of good Will, for being so perfect a Friend. When he gave an account to his Majesty of what had pass'd betwixt the Earl and him, he left nothing unattempted to allay the King's Indignation, and wrought so effectually upon the King, that he resolv'd not to Banish so far off, as he at first intended: Nay, he begg'd the King to send him only to Chelsey; but the King being too well acquainted with that Seat, as not to know what Pleasures he might enjoy there, he pitch'd upon Caerleon for a Place of his Banishment. This had bin in former Ages a considerable City in South-Wales, seated upon the River Ʋsque, but whereof nothing being left now but Ruins and Miserable Remnants of Antiquity, this prov'd not a very convenient Place for the Entertainment of a Person, so much accustom'd as he was to Pleasure and Magnificence.

The King now exasperated to a high degree, order'd the Earl of Pembrook to return immediately to the Earl of Warwick, and to tell him from him, That within two Hours he must depart for Caerleon. He was somewhat doubtful, whether he had best accept of this Commission, or whether he should desire the King to employ some body else in it; but at last, fearing, lest his Friend might not receive this Command with so much Submission as he ought to do, and that the same might be afterwards ill represented to the King, in hopes of consummating the Ruin of a Disgrac'd Favourite, most frequently practis'd among Courtiers, he was contented to undertake this Order, the better to take care of his Friends Interest: He thought it but requisite, to bring in by way of Introduction, certain things commonly made Use of, to prepare People's Minds against an ill Piece of News. To what purpose serve all these Precautions, my Lord, cry'd he, when I told you this Morning, that nothing could actually afflict me, unless it related to my Lady Devonshire; if nothing that is amiss, has befaln her, speak without fear, for I am prepar'd against all Events. You are to be sent out of the way, said the Earl of Pembrook, embracing him. I am overjoy'd at it, reply'd he, And has the King done me the Favour to pitch upon a Place remote from all Conversation with the World? A Desart, where I may employ my Thoughts Day and Night? where I may send forth my Sighs and Complaints, for not seeing the Countess? and where, at last, I may not come near that dangerous She-Favourite of his, the Presence whereof will be always odious to me. Your Wishes are accomplish'd, said the Earl of Pembrook, Caerleon is the Place design'd by the King for your Banishment, and it is his Pleasure you should depart within two Hours. The time is very short, said the Earl, but no Matter, I shall be pleas'd once more with the Sight of the River Ʋsque: Pray tell the King, That within two Hours, I will be no more in London, and that I shall be very well pleas'd with my Place of Abode. They did bid one another Farewel with all the Tenderness imaginable; for the Earl not knowing my Lord of Pembrook to be his Rival, there was nothing that interfer'd with their Friendship on his side. He left London with so much Precipitation, that he would not so much as take his Leave of the Arch-bishop of York, and the Marquess of Montague, his Brothers: For, he fear'd, that they being incens'd at his ill Treatment, might urge him to go over to Calas, whereof he was then Governour; and by putting himself under the Protection of the French King, revenge himself of King Edward.

The Earl of Warwick's Gentleman coming to Twittenham with Letters from the Dutchess of Norfolk to my Lady Anglesey, thought not fit to deliver them himself for fear of being known, but gave them to the French Gardener, his pretended Master, to give them to that Lady, whilst he kept at a distance in one of the darkest Corners of the Room. The Countess of Anglesey much pleas'd with the Draughts this Gardener shew'd her, pitch'd upon one for her Garden, ordering him to begin it the next Day. The Fellow was very well pleas'd with it, being born and train'd up in this kind of Work, but agreed but very indifferently with Berincour, he being but little us'd to Hardship; especially since the Countess being very eager to have it brought to Perfection, and there being abundance of Weeds to be cut up, and other matters to be done, he that was to Survey the Work, us'd often to check him after a very rough manner. His best Comfort was, That he saw the Countess of Devonshire taking a Walk every Day in a Shady Wilderness, at the End of the Place where they were at Work; but in so Melancholly a Condition, and accompany'd by so many Surveyers, that he durst not speak to her for fear of being discover'd. As for Albine, she did not appear for a considerable time, being detain'd in Bed by an Ague; so that the poor Earl, who impatiently long'd for some News in his Solitude, could not hear of any a good while that might be pleasing to him Berincour knew that Albine was Sick, at last took an Opportunity to let her know by a young Woman, with whom he dined some times, That if she pleas'd, he could Cure her, provided she would let him apply certain Herbs to her Wrests, which would produce an almost stupendious Effect. So she sent for him, and he, after some superstitious Ceremonies, apply'd the Herbs to her Wrests; but at the same time, did not forget to revive her Eye-sight with the Lustre of the Jewel his Master had sent her by him, which he held in his Hand, so as to be seen by no body but her self The old Albine dazled with the Brightness thereof, soon got out of Bed into the Garden, where she call'd for the Gardener's Man, under pretence that he should assist her in supporting her to Walk, whilst they might talk of the most stupendious Operations and Cure perform'd by his Herbs.

So soon as he had an Opportunity of speaking to her, he told her, That the Earl had no other Hopes left, but what he expected from her Assistance, having sent him on purpose to acquaint her with every thing that pass'd: That he was afflicted to the Heart, because he heard no News from my Lady Devonshire, since she had left London, and therefore had given him a large Letter directed to my Lady, and a Jewel for her. Things have faln out so unexpectedly, answer'd Albine, and the young Countess has so possitively forbid me to entertain any further Correspondence with the Earl, that this join'd to the Impossibility of Writing, without being discover'd by so many Argus's as we have about us, I saw my self constrain'd to be quiet, when I wish'd I could have done otherwise. She then told him what had happen'd with the Watch; the unfortunate Accident of the Jewel and Picture; the Jealousy of the Earl, and the Vexation of the Countess of Devonshire, and how she had bin reprimanded by her Mother. What must we do, my dear Albine, said Berincour? My Master can't live if your Mistress perseveres in her Rigour; I conjure you by all that is good, to procure me a Moment to speak with her, or at least, take my Letter, and let me have an Answer. I can promise you nothing, said Albine, you may be assur'd of my Zeal for your Service. For fear their Conversation should have created some Suspicion if it had continu'd longer, Albine went out of the Garden, but fail'd not to come again every Day, and would talk with Berincour under some favourable pretence or other.

I told you before, he was a Handsome Fellow, so that, notwithstanding the Sun had made him as Tawny as a Tawny-Moor, and his being much harrass'd with continual Labour, the old Gentlewoman took a great Fansie to him: She suppos'd nothing could be more proper, than to make a Match betwixt the He and She Confidents of two Rich Lovers: That the Earl being in a Condition to make his Gentleman's Fortune, my Lady would shew no less Liberality and Goodness for her: To be short, she had got the Match so far in her Head, that she took but little concern in the Affair of the Earl of Warwick, and whenever she found her self urg'd by Berincour, she would tell him, she was forc'd to act with a great deal of Precaution. What makes you, said he, detain me thus here? You know what Danger I am in if I am discover'd; I am oblig'd to Work from Day-break till Night; I am ready to die for Vexation, and am convinc'd you don't intend to do any further Service to my Master. How impatient are you, reply'd she, and how little concern you shew, and the Trouble I take of coming so frequently to talk with you: Alas! were your Heart as inclinable to gratitude, as mine is, you would not be so eager for going, but would make the best Use of the present Opportunity. At these Words, Berincour was ready to burst out a laughing: but having forborn it with much ado, he told her, That all this time his Thoughts were taken up with his Master's Affairs, but that for the future she might be sure of all his Applications, and that she should be satisfy'd how passionately he lov'd her. Albine being uncertain whether she had best believe him or not, And how can I be assur'd, reply'd she, that you will Love me, if you don't Love me already? I should much suspect a Passion, that is so much at your Command. He told her, That his seeing and loving her were of the same Date; That if she would dispatch him quickly, he would soon return on purpose to Court her. This Promise set the old Gentlewoman to Work; for the same Evening, she told my Lady Devonshire, That neither her Silence nor her Coldness being able to check the Earls P•ssion, he had left no Stone unturn'd to hear some News of her, and that his Gentleman was there in Disguise to deliver her a Letter, which she had undertaken to give to her.

The Countess's Colour changed at these Words; Will you Ruin me Albine, said she? have you already forgot how much I have suffered only for having acted with less Reservedness than I should have done? And though I have nothing that is Material to upbraid my self withal, 'tis nevertheless too much to give the World real Cause of Suspicion. Don't speak to me any more of the Earl of Warwick, my Stubborn Heart is too apt to do it without you. How! Madam, said Albine to her, will you refuse to accept his Letter? Yes, I will refuse it, reply'd she, Give it back to him who brought it to you, and order him from me to be gone. Albine, not a little surprized at this resolute Answer, You will then prove the Cause of his Death, said she, or perhaps he will commit such a Piece of Extravagancy, as you will have occasion to repent of as long as you live. And how long is it, reply'd the Countess, with an angry look, since Men have that Liberty of Persecuting a Woman, that is inclined to adhere strictly to her Duty? Leave me at rest Albine, the Force I put upon my Inclinations, is ready to put an end to my Life; but what matter is it, added she, with a very Melancholy Air, since I have nothing that should render Life more desireable to me. At these Words, the Tears beginning to stand in her Eyes, Albine look'd upon it as a favourable Minute to engage her to open the Earl's Pacquet, Madam, said she, throwing her self at her Feet, don't you refuse to Read this Letter, my Lord Warwick will otherwise think you slight him; and how do you think a Man of his Haughty Temper can digest such a usage as this? Perhaps his Love may turn into Hatred. Oh! let him Hate me, cry'd she, 'tis all I desire him to do. But all this while, her Heart not being strong enough to retain her Sighs within her Breast, and Albine watching narrowly every one of her Motions, did not fail to tell her a Thousand Reasons, to engage her to open the Pacquet; But seeing the Countess would not do it, she did Read it aloud before her: The Countess had weakness enough to hear it Read, but cou'd not be prevail'd upon to return an Answer.

Albine having given a full account of all that had pass'd, to Berincour, he found such an agreeable Mixture of Tenderness and Vertue in this Proceeding of my Lady Devonshire, that he could not forbear to Compassionate her Condition, and to wish, that his Master would desist from pursuing the Matter any further. Notwithstanding which, he fail'd not to entreat the old Gentlewoman to renew her Temptations, to obtain a few Lines from her Hands, and she was not sparing either of her Arguments nor Prayers; but the Countess tired with her importunity, threatning to acquaint her Lord with it; She found now, there was nothing to be done for Berincour, but to return to his Master, and to give some Colour to his Departure, The Head Gardener pretended, he had occasion to send him to London, to Buy some things he stood in need of.

Berincour knew nothing of his Masters Exilement; but being inform'd thereof at London, he went straightways to Caerleon; coming thither, he understood he was walking on the Banks of the River Ʋsque; And the Gentleman, as he went in search for him, found on several Trees, Engrave• the Cyphers of the Countess, and divers Verses he had composed upon her. The Earl no sooner espy'd him, but full of impatience ran to meet him, asking what Answer he brought from the Countess of Devonshire? Whereupon, Berincour desired him to have Patience to hearken to what he had to say. The Account he receiv'd from him, serving only to make him think himself more unhappy than really he was, threw him into a very deep Melancholly, and he now began to fansy, that Albine, out of a Motive of self Interest, had flattered him with all those Tender Relations, She said she had understood in Conversing with his Mistress; and that it was too true, that she had no more than a bare Indifferency for him, because she would not Write to him. This Opinion being back'd by many Circumstances, threw him into a most violent Anguish: Thus he spent Three days, under the greatest Incertitude what to do; till at last, he resolv'd to send back Berincour to the Countess, and to fill his Letters with such urging Complaints and Declarations of Respect, that she should not remain insensible thereat. His Gentleman, who not very well liked his Errand, represented to him, but in vain, how little likelihood there was for better Success in this Second, than in his First Journey; But he upbraiding him with Want of Affection, he departed in the old Disguise of a Gardener, the better to conceal himself from every body.

During his Absence, my Lady Devonshire, who was with Child, narrowly escaped being kill'd by a Fall; So that upon his Arrival there, he was told by Albine, that it would be very difficult for her Mistress to find a favourable Opportunity of speaking to him; because she was very seldom left alone. But, added she, What happens very Fortunate, is, that I shall often see you; so we must talk concerning our Marriage; and if we can't accomplish the Earl of Warwick and the Countesses Business, at least we will take care of our own. Make not the least account upon that, said he to her, with an angry look, my Fortune depends on the Success of this Negotiation, and unless my Master be satisfy'd, I will never think of Marriage. These Words having added new Life and Vigour to the Old Gentlewoman's Desires, she immediately acquainted her Mistress with the News of the return of the Earl's Gentleman, which proved a fresh occasion of Trouble to her. She Commanded her positively not to take his Letters; and that, if he did not withdraw from the House forthwith, she would make him repent of it. The Old Confident seeing her so Resolute, could do no otherwise than tell Berincour, that he had best to depart with the first opportunity, and that all the Earl would be able to do for the future, would be in vain, because the Countess had taken this opportunity of his absence, to hearken to her Reason; That she made every day more and more Progress in recalling her Inclinations from him, and therefore was resolv'd not to Read any of his Letters, lest his Passionate Expressions should revive in her Heart, an Idea she had found too Dear and too Dangerous for her Repose.

Berincour had nothing to object against what he was told by Albine; But being too well acquainted with his Master's Temper, to venture at his Return, without some more Comfortable Answer, he told her, That since his so sudden Departure would be infallibly attended with some remarkable ill Consequences, he only desired some time to do it at his own leasure, and when he saw a fit opportunity to do it; and Albine managed the Matter so far with my Lady Devonshire, that she gave Ear to this Proposition. The Countess had done all that possibly could be done, when she refus'd with so firm a Resolution to read the Letters of the Earl of Warwick; but notwithstanding her real desire of Remembring him no more, nay, even of Hating him, 'tis certain, that not a Day pass'd, but she felt within her self certain strong Inclinations for him. No, said she, to her Confident, I would never forgive my self for these Sentiments I still preserve for him, were it not that by the Violences I daily impose upon my self, I were sufficiently convinc'd, that one is not Mistress of ones own Inclinations; a certain fatal Constellation has made me see the Earl, and since that unhappy Moment, neither all the Reflections I can make in respect of my self, nor the Motives of my Duty, nor the Advantage of his Absence, have bin able to raze him out of my Thoughts. Albine being a Person who preferr'd her own Interest before all other Considerations, was so far from urging her Mistress to keep stedfast to her Resolution, that she excus'd her Frailty, alledging many Instances of that Nature; which instead of perfecting the Cure, might serve rather to encrease her Distemper.

This was the Condition of this Fair Lady, when she just had got strength enough to take the Air in the Garden, the very Place where Berincour watch'd all her Motions, being resolv'd to take the first favourable Opportunity of speaking to her, He happen'd to meet with one, one Day, when he saw the Countess Reading in an Arbour, her Woman being at a good distance from her to gather a Nose-gay: He at the same time run immediately to the Place where he knew the choicest Flowers were, took care to gather such of them as he judg'd by their odoriferous Scent and various Colours, might be most agreeable to her; these he presented to her in a Basket, and she casting her Eyes first upon the Flowers, and afterwards upon the Gardener, was soon convinc'd he was the Earl's Gentleman: She Blush'd at the Sight of him, and was a going into the next Walk; but besides that, she had not recover'd as yet her full Strength, the suddenness of so surprizing a Sight had so far impair'd the Use of her Limbs, that she saw her self oblig'd to sit down again in the same Place. Madam, said Berincour to her, you know very well who I am, and what it is I hope for from your Goodness. What is it you would have with me, said she with a trembling Voice, Has not Albine spoke to you concerning me? But I can't believe, added he, what she tells me, since I can't Imagine, Madam, the Earl of Warwick to have given you sufficient occasion to hate him to such a degree, as to procure his Death in refusing to Read his Letter and giving me an Answer. No, reply'd she abruptly, I will have no manner of Correspondence with him: What is it I have done to him, that he should thus persecute me in a Solitude, which ought to shelter me against the Danger of his Remembrance? Let him be Happy at Court, but leave me in Repose. You don't know then, Madam, reply'd he, how much he deserves your Compassion? The King has Banish'd him into a kind of a Desart, where he would live contented, would you but take the least share in his Pain. The Countess stood surpriz'd; for tho' this Piece of News was well known in the Family, they had conceal'd it from her, because they would not mention the Earl's Name. Alas! all her preceeding Resolutions of Indifferency could not stand the brunt of this Surprize; the Air of her Face, nay, her Voice began to change into a milder Disposition, she took the Letters Berincour deliver'd to her, and having hid them carefully, immediately left the Arbour and Garden, being very impatient to see what the Earl had writ to her: The whole Packet contain'd no less than Six Letters, but it will be sufficient to insert one, which may save as a Pattern, to give a Judgment of all the rest.

WHen you hear the News of my Banishment, you will doubtless pity me, Madam, and will believe that I look upon it as a Disgrace; but I have not so much Sense left as to be sensible of it: The Sentiments I preserve for you, make me indifferent to every thing that does not concern you; and I am so far from being alone in this Dismal Solitude, that I am in better Company than ever I was at Court: Yes, Divine Countess, I am entirely possess'd with your Idea; I carry it every where about me, and it is my constant Entertainment, neither could I wish for any thing in the World that would please me better, since I am depriv'd of seeing you any more; so that I dare affirm, That if I am unhappy, 'tis owing only to your Indifferency. Alas! Madam, What Crime have I committed against you, to cause me so much Pain? I Love you, and that is my Crime: But don't we also Love the Gods, and they are not offended at it? And tho' I pay you the same Respect as we do to them, you treat me more rigorously than they would do. Afford a few Lines of your own Hand Writing, to the Violence and Purity of my Passion, this being the only Remedy I desire to allay all the Evils you make me suffer.

My Lady Devonshire had no sooner read the Earl of Warwick's Letter, but she call'd Albine into her Closet, who seeing her Mistress all in Tears, could not conceive what fresh Occasion of Grief was befaln her. Don't be surpriz'd, said she, these Tears I shed are too reasonable to be stopt; I am afflicted to see my self still guilty of so much Weakness; the Earl's Exilement touches me to the Heart. His Exilement, Madam, reply'd Albine! Berincour has not said one Word of it to me. I wish, continu'd the Countess, this Secret had bin kept from me, as well as it has bin from you, I should then have no occasion of reproaching my self, with having read a Letter, from a Person whose Correspondence occasions so much Trouble to the Earl of Devonshire. Albine then made use of all her Rhetorick, to persuade her Mistress, that she could not, without much Injustice, refuse her Pity to an unfortunate Man; she extoll'd the Earl's Merits above the Skies, and this dangerous Confident so continually tormented and disturb'd her with her Arguments and Entreaties, that in spite of all her former Resolutions, not to write to the Earl, she could not forbear to send him an Answer in these Words:

IF that Esteem which I have hitherto preserved for you, deserves an Acknowledgment, Don't remember, my Lord, that you ever saw me, and permit me to enjoy a Tranquillity, I am not Mistress of now: I can't imagine why you shou'd persist in persecuting of me; for so I must call those Demonstrations of a Passion which is offensive to me, and which had before this, produc'd my Hatred against you, were I in a Condition of hating you: However, the Impossibility I am under of loving you, because I ought not; and of hating you, because I cannot; deserves all the Compassion you are capable off. Assist me then in finding out such a Disposition to Indifferency, as may prove the Glory and Repose of my Life.

She left off in all probability sooner than she intended, because her Tears stopt the Course of her Pen; her Heart checking her Hand for an Action, so opposite to the Promise she had made to her Mother and Husband. She told Albine she would tear the Letter, for fear of some sinister Consequences, and she was actually going to do it, when Albine clapping her Hand upon it, took and hid it in her Bossom. No, Madam, said she, I must not give it you again, there is no reason you should so suddenly alter your Resolution, in behalf of a Person who has done nothing to displease you: You forbid him to Love you, he ought to have it under your own Hand, and then he will have no reason to flatter himself; and I am almost certain this is the Way to Cure him. Do'st thou believe so, Albine, reply'd the Countess, much concern'd, then I will not send the Letter. But soon recollecting her self, What is it I say, continu'd she? What did I say? What are my Intentions? Would I suffer my self to be belov'd by any other Person but the Earl of Devonshire? Whilst the Countess was thus fixing her Resolution, to break off all Correspondence with the Earl, and to begin with the burning of the Letter she had writ just before, Albine considering, she could do no greater piece of Service to Berincour, than to give it him, in order to deliver it to his Master, slipt out of the Closet unperceiv'd by her Mistress, and running straight into the Garden, put the Letter into the Gentleman's Hands.

During Berincour's late Journey to Caerleon, the before-mention'd French Gardener was faln in Love with a Handsome young English Damsel, and as it is a hard Task to keep any thing from what one loves, this Gardener was not altogether so much taken up with his Courtship, but that he would sometimes Talk of his Companion; and this young Woman taking particular notice of this Gentleman in Disguise, began to like him so well, that she thought, if she were born a Gentlewoman, she could be much better satisfy'd with him, than with a Country Fellow: At last she could not forbear to speak concerning him to her Mother, and it would have bin Death to the old Woman, not to tell the Secret to her Husband: So the Gardener perceiving the thing to have taken Vent thought it his safest way, to declare the whole Truth thereof himself to the Earl of Devonshire. He was touch'd to the quick at this News, not knowing what to resolve upon; sometimes he was for cutting Berincour's Throat before his Lady's Face, and then to carry things to the utmost Extremity. Soon after he was speaking to the Earl of Anglesey, to desire satisfaction of him, on account of his Daughter: Love, Jealousy, Honour, Tenderness and Hatred, enter'd into a most Cruel Combat within his Breast. Distracted with these various Agitations of his Mind, the Chevalier d' Hereford his Kinsman, and one of his most intimate Friends, comes to Twittenham, to spend Two or Three Days with the Earl; who looking upon his Arrival as one of the most seasonable things that could have happen'd, desir'd him to take a Walk upon the Side of the River Thames: They were no sooner come at some Distance from those that attended them, but, after a few Moments silence, You see the most unfortunate of Mankind, said he to the Chevalier, I came to this River with no other Intention, than to throw my self to the Bottom of it, to put an end to those Misfortunes I was not Born to. Hereford looking upon him like a Man amaz'd, What has happen'd to you, my Lord, said he? You know I am absolutely yours, let me be a Sharer in your Discontents, perhaps I may help you to support them with the more Patience. Oh! said the Earl, my Pain owes its Original to a Cause which exceeds all ordinary Pains: That Excess of Friendship I always had for my Lady Devonshire, is now the deadly Cause of my Grief. How! cry'd the Chevalier, You don't complain of her? I can't imagine what Reason you should have for it. Hear me, said the Earl, interrupting him, and I will leave it to your own Judgment. He then gave him an ample account of the whole Matter, intermixing his Relation with Tender Reproaches, and Violent Threats, no otherwise than if he had bin talking to his Lady, whence it was easie to guess, that it would prove very difficult to moderate his Anger: However, the Chevalier having a fix'd and singular Esteem for the Countess, was resolv'd to undertake the Task.

You are not in a Condition to act in your own Person, said he to the Earl, because the Point in Question too nearly concerns you: Your Senses are impair'd, and you will see your Lady's Innocence, even when you would not see it. Well, supposing the Earl of Warwick's Gentleman to be in your House Disguis'd like a Gardener, doubtless his Master sent him either to assist him in coming hither Incognito, or to receive his Letters, and to deliver his Answers; it will be no hard matter for you to find out the true reason thereof, give him but a little Opium, and having got his Papers into your Hands, you may take the best Measures you can, without the least Noise. If the Earl of Warwick, reply'd the Earl, keeps him here to favour his coming privately into the House, there is no way to find it out, unless by the Confession of this Gentleman. No Matter, reply'd the Chevalier, let us begin with my Proposal, and we will end, as you shall think fit. The Chevalier prevailing with the Earl to follow his Advice, it was agreed to mix some Opium in the Gentleman's Drink, by the Assistance of one of their Faithful Domesticks, who met with no great Difficulty to perform his Promise. Berincour, who had work'd very hard all that Day in the Garden, being much tired at Night, and eager for his Supper, to go to Bed in good time, because he was to rise next Morning before Day-break, in order to depart with the so much desir'd Answer of the Countess's, he was to deliver to the Earl.

The Chevalier de Hereford, desir'd the Earl of Devonshire to leave the whole Management of this Affair to his Conduct; so that entring the pretended Gardener's Chamber, in Company of that Person only who had procur'd the Opium, he found a very large Pacquet about him; what had increas'd its Bulk, was, That the Countess being resolv'd not to keep the Earl of Warwick's Letters, and having not Resolution enough to burn them, she sent them back along with her own Letter. The Chevalier much surpriz'd at the Sight of the Pacquet, was at a stand, whether to give it to the Earl or not, being ignorant of the Contents thereof, which he fear'd might turn to my Lady Devonshire's Ruin: It was then he made a thousand Melancholly Reflections upon the Misfortunes unto which too often the Imprudence of young People exposes them; and had he thought himself sure of his Opinion, he would certainly have avoided to give new cause of Trouble to his Kinsman: But the worst was, that besides that, the Domestick, who went along with him, had seen the Pacquet, the Earl of Devonshire would not be satisfy'd at an easie rate. And it prov'd so on the sequel, for he waited for him in a long Gallery, where disturb'd with his Inquietudes he walk'd up and down a-pace, and no sooner saw the Chevalier, but laying his Hand to his Sword, not knowing very well what he did, or what he would have, ask'd him abruptly for the Letters. I am a coming to give them to you, said the Chevalier; and then delivering them to the Earl, he tore the Covert and Signets, and soon knew the first the Earl's, and then his Lady's Hand writing; at the last of which he stood very much surpriz'd, whilst the Chevalier was highly pleas'd thereat.

You see, my Lord, said he, the Countess is not guilty; the Earl of Warwick Persecutes her, he sends his Gentleman without her knowledge; she forbids him to Love her; she is angry with him; she will not so much as keep his Letters, which would appear pleasing to any other Woman but her self; What further Satisfaction can you desire? You represent to me, reply'd he, my Wife's Conduct on the fairest Side; but let us take the thing as really it is, What can you say for a young Lady, who suffers a Gentleman of so dangerous a Person as the Earl of Warwick is, to stay in her Family? Who lets him abide there in Disguise? Who keeps his Secret? Who receives his Letters? And who in effect tells him that she Loves him, in telling him, That she can't hate him? In what Country besides this, would such kind of Freedom be allow'd of with Patience? The Chevalier let him go on in his Discourse, without the least Contradiction, for fear of exasperating him the more, in case he should endeavour to convince him by strength of Reason, which seldom takes place with Persons infected with Jealousy; but only conjur'd him, not to disturb the Repose of his whole Family, by noising the Thing abroad. At last he put him in mind, that the Countess had acquir'd the general good Opinion of all the World, as a Person who in all respects answer'd the Character of that Education she had by the Care of my Lady her Mother; but that if he suffer'd this matter, in the least, to take Vent, the Publick Rumour, which always makes a Monster of a Fly, would also, upon this occasion, not be spairing to aggrandize the Story: That if he would follow his Advice, he ought to manage the Point with the utmost Address and Nicety, and to contrive how to make a Breach betwixt her and the Earl; For, since it was evident by her Letter, that she preferr'd her Duty before all other Considerations, it would be no diffiult Task, to secure her in that Opinion. Accordingly it was agreed betwixt the Earl of Devonshire and the Chevalier, to keep the whole Secret from the knowledge of the Countess, and to write these few Words in a Woman's Character to the Earl of Warwick. ‘Let me be at rest, I will never hear you as much as to be spoken of.’

They folded the Paper, and having made up the Pacquet just as it was before, seal'd it with just such another Seal as that of the Countess's; the Earl, who had given it to her, happening to have the fellow of it. Every thing being thus contriv'd, they put it again into Berincour's Pocket, unperceiv'd to him: And so, according as he had propos'd the Night before, he went away, to satisfy his Master, who expected his Return with the utmost Impatience.

I give you leave to guess at his Surprize and Resentment, at the reading of so rough and harsh a Farewel. How! Barbarous Woman, cry'd he, do I undergo this Cruel Exilement for your sake? I have lost the King's Favour, I was willing to sacrifice my Repose and my whole Fortune to the Satisfaction of pleasing you; you are not ignorant of it, my Letters and Addresses have sufficiently told it you; and you repay me with nothing but Disdain: No, no, don't imagine me to be not able to forget you, I break your Chains, and nothing shall be remaining of them, but the shame of wearing them. He added a thousand Reproaches to these Words, appearing for several Days like a Man in a Frenzy, who was combating nothing but Airy Phantasms, sometimes Discomfited, sometimes Victorious, not knowing what Resolution to take. He would spend whole Nights near the River Ʋsque, addressing himself to the Trees and Rocks, without being sensible, for the most part, of what he said.

At last, this Distemper, the most dangerous of all sorts of Fevers, began to abate by Degrees; his Reason, which had lain conceal'd for a great while, began on a sudden to take its proper Station, and display its Charms: 'Twas now he began to compassionate his Destiny, and be sensible of its Hardship. The same Desart, which so lately had appear'd to him the most delightful Place in the World, was now turn'd to the most disagreeable of all others: Hitherto the Days seem'd too short for him to ruminate upon his Passion, but now they were insupportable to him; and if now and then he thought of the Countess, it was in spite of himself, and to find out her Defects. He did not think fit to ask the Intercession of his Brothers with the King in his behalf, but pitch'd upon another Method: He sent Berincour to such Friends as he knew could be serviceable to him, but more especially to the Earl of Pembrook, to desire him to acquaint the King, that he was ready to make a sincere Confession at his Feet, of every thing he had a mind to know concerning this Intrigue, and that he would promise his Majesty, never to love the Countess of Devonshire any more. This News caused no small Satisfaction to the Earl of Pembrook, who saw himself thus freed from a most dangerous Rival, without which he had but little hopes of meeting with a favourable Reception from the Countess. This engag'd him to make his Application to the King, with the utmost of his Zeal: However, that Prince did not think fit to grant a Request made so late; but would have his Penance bear some Proportion to his Fault; and that he should purchase his Pardon by his reiterated Prayers, which he refus'd to hearken to at present.

The Chevalier having engag'd the Earl of Devonshire upon his Honour, not to shew the least Indifferency or Anger to his Lady, and every thing being agreed betwixt them, in relation to the further Management of this Affair, he went to London, but came back into the Country soon after. 'Twas about the same time that the Earl of Warwick being recall'd from his Exilement, those that were the most intimate Friends of the Earl of Devonshire, were the first who gave notice thereof to the said Earl; they further told him, That the Earl had never appear'd more Gay in all his Life time, and that he was faln in Love with one of the Maids of Honour of the Dutchess of York, a Beautiful young Lady, and of a very good Family. The Earl of Devonshire was very ready to read these Letters before his Lady, who, at that time, diverting her self with making some Silk Embrodery-work, was put into such a Confusion by this unexpected Piece of News, that she made some Roses, she was then working at, of a Blue Colour, and Jessamins and Jonquilles Green, without being sensible of her Mistake: The Earl perceiv'd it to his singular regret, and would questionless have discover'd the most violent Marks of his Resentment, had not the Chevalier come into the Room at that very Juncture of time. His Presence checking the Effects of his Indignation, he gave him an account of what he had observ'd: No, said he, there is no room for flattering my self any longer, That ingrateful Creature Loves him; She has too much betray'd the Inclinations of her Heart; I will be Reveng'd. But the Chevalier so far prevail'd upon him by his most earnest Intreaties, that he was appeas'd for that time.

Within two Days after, the Chevalier de Hereford, as he was Walking with the Countess in the Garden, look'd upon this as a favourable Opportunity to manage his Design: He told her, He was sorry he should prove the Occasion of giving her some Disquiet; but that he could not, without blaming himself, forbear to acquaint her with the Actions of the Earl of Warwick, who had so little regard to her Favours, as to shew her Letters abroad: That one of them being by good Fortune faln into his Hands, he had kept it, and was now come on purpose to restore it to her. The Countess judging no otherwise, than that he had bin set on by the Earl of Devonshire, to feel her Pulse, was a going to check his Boldness; but soon perceiving her own Hand writing, she turn'd as Pale as Ashes, but soon after a sudden redness over-spreading her Face and Bosom, were sufficient Demonstrations of her Confusion and Indignation. My Intentions were too sincere and unblemish'd, said she to the Chevalier, in writing this Billet, to have the least occasion of disowning it; and I dare promise my self, that, every thing being duly consider'd, it will turn rather to my Honour than Disgrace; at the same time it makes me sensible of the Baseness of the Earl of Warwick, against whom I from this time vow an implacable Hatred: He must certainly be one of the basest Men living, to play me such a Game; but I will assure him, it shall never be said, he contriv'd my Ruin for his own Diversion, since I will make him feel the Effects of my Resentment. Madam, reply'd the Chevalier, if you will give me leave to advise you, stifle this Matter, for fear it should come to my Lord Devonshire's Ears; you know him to be a Man too nice in certain Points; and the last time we came hither, he told me some part of his Affliction upon the Road: Believe me, Madam, the securest way a Lady of your Age and Birth can take, is, not to give any occasion of her being much talk'd of in Publick, since there are not wanting every where, such as will put the worst Interpretation upon the most Innocent Actions that can be: You live in a numerous Family, and the best way to obtain their Commendation, is, not to make your self a publick Discourse at Court, and that it may not be said, the Countess of Devonshire has bin quarreling such a Day, and such a Day, with the Earl of Warwick, because he shew'd a Letter she had written to him.

Whilst he was talking to her, she kept her Eyes immoveably fix'd on the Ground, and then bursting out into Tears, she thank'd him for his Advice, assuring him that she would follow it, being resolv'd not to appear any more at Court, but to pass all the remainder of her Days in the Country. The Chevalier told her, it would not be for her good, thus to resolve upon such an Extream, since she could not refuse to go along with the Family, if they went to London. She answer'd, She was resolv'd not to go thither, unless the Earl her Spouse should oblige her to it, which she suppos'd he would not; for Twittenham being not above Eight or Nine Miles from London, he might go and come at pleasure, without the least Inconveniency. The Chevalier, finding her so resolute, thought it more convenient to seem to approve of her Design, than to contest any longer in vain, especially since he knew the Earl of Devonshire intended to keep her in the Country for a considerable time.

She was no sooner gone, but the Chevalier returning to the Earl of Devonshire's Apartment, gave him an Account of their whole Conversation, and they were both extreamly well satisfy'd, both with this first good Success, and with the Resolution they had taken of breaking off the Correspondence with the Earl of Warwick, by furnishing them with occasion of mutual Complaints; whereas if they had made a Noise of the matter, it might have serv'd rather to cement their Affections, and Chevalier de Hereford being apprehensive, that his Kinsman might make some false Steps, contrary to what had bin agreed on betwixt them, seldom left him alone, taking all Opportunities of allaying his Anger.

My Lady Devonshire returning into her Closet, and throwing her self upon a Couch, without saying one Word to Albine, and she perceiving some remarkable alterations in her looks, begg'd her to impart to her the reason of her Grief. Oh! Unhappy Woman, said the Countess with a surious look, 'Tis thou that art the Cause of my Grief; Thou hast plagued me to receive the Earl of Warwick's Letters, and it was thou who didst engage me, in spite of all my Foresight, to return an answer to them. This Perfidious Man has Sacrific'd my Letter to his Mistress, which would have bin handed about every where, had not the Chevalier de Hereford, so far concern'd himself in my Honour and Quiet, as to put a stop to it; perhaps it might by this time have bin in my Husbands Hands: I am so highly exasperated at so Notorious an Injury, that I will never either forget or forgive it whilst I live. Albine appear'd like Thunderstruck, without being able to utter one Word; and her Eyes being shut. she appear'd like one petrify'd or struck with Death, whilst my Lady Devonshire quite overcome with her own Grief, little troubled her self with her Confident. At last, Madam, said she, and has the Earl of Warwick Treated you thus unworthily? 'Twas then upon that account only, he sent his Gentleman hither to get one of your Letters into his Hands, to boast of your Favours; I protest to you, I will not as much as mention him any more, unless it be to conjure you, to continue and encrease your Hatred to him. There is no need for thy intermedling any further in the Matter, said the Countess, thy Business is not so much as to remember his Name in my Presence; Leave the rest to my Care, and I will acquit my self in such a manner, that no blame shall be laid at my Door.

If it were possible, reply'd Albine, after having paused a while, to doubt of what one sees with ones own Eyes, I must confess to you Madam, I should scarce so absolutely Condemn the Earl of Warwick without being heard. None but such mean and self-interessed Souls as thine, said the Countess, can be Guilty of thus imposing upon themselves: As to my self, who give Thanks to God, have nothing in me that Resembles thee, have fix'd my Resolutions to Hate him for ever, and not to see him again whilst I live. You will meet with no small difficulties, to keep either of these Resolutions, reply'd Albine; 'Tis not an easie Matter to hate what one loves. I love him, cry'd the Countess with some impatience; 'Tis true, I have admitted of his importunities, and this is the only thing I have to accuse my self of, and to reproach you. How unfortunate are Persons of my Age, continued she, if they happen to have Women of so much Complaisance as yours? Hadst thou given me a foresight of the Precipice I was going to, I had stop'd in time to avoid the Danger, and had not had any occasion now of finding my self betray'd: But instead of giving me wholesome Advice, thou madest it thy Business to make me sensible of the Merits and Passion of my Enemy.

These various Reflections caused in her a Thousand Melancholly Thoughts, which afflicted her to such a degree, that not being in a condition to appear in any strange Conpany, she went to Bed, and Albine told the Family, that having a most violent Head-ach, she requir'd some Rest. Her Husband, who did not question but that it was an effect of her dissatisfaction, was not very forward to see her, being highly exasperated against her; and had it not bin for the Chevalier de Hereford, it would have come to a Rupture betwixt them.

The Earl of Pembrook, who bore a share in every thing that related to the Countess, soon got Notice of her being ill of a Consumptive Fever, attended with such Symptoms of Melancholly as seem'd to be past all hopes of a Cure, and not doubting but that it was that Change of the Earl of Warwick, that was the real Cause of it: What an odd Story is here! cry'd he, She Writes to him a Rigorous Letter, that she will not as much as hear any body Name him; His good Fortune is such, as to take the right Course, and to Cure his Passion; She no sooner knows it, but is ready to run distracted. But perhaps, continued he, this sudden Fire which Burns now with such violence in her Heart for the Earl of Warwick, may be much abated, if she meets with a Lover who's Passion is limited within the Bounds of Vertue, such as she has always profess'd; and 'tis possible, that the Earl being too forward, forced that rigorous answer from her: As for my Part, I fear nothing of that kind; for as I love without hopes, so I shall be well pleased, provided she will not be displeased with me.

There being a great Intimacy betwixt him and the Earl of Devonshire, he took often the freedom of paying him a Visit at Twittenham; which being a Village but a few Miles from London, He ask'd leave of the King to go thither for some small time. You will then see the Countess of Devonshire, said the King to him; I would have her come to Court again, because I find her Beauty is much out of Order; I know her Eyes are grown very hollow, her Complexion and Lips Pale, and that she is so Lean, as scarce to be known to be the same Person: Thus I see my self sufficiently Reveng'd upon her, and to compleat it, pray tell her, that I intend privately to Marry Madam Grey; that I heap Favours upon Favours upon her; that I love her most Tenderly; and that if she had used me well, she might Triumph'd at Court at Pleasure, whereas, now her Husband keeps her shut up in the Country.

Your Majesty charges me with a Commission, said the Earl, which would easily break off my small Journey; For how is it possible for me to put such hardships upon her? If you are resolved to go thither, added the King, it must be to serve me as an Interview to her. The Earl told him, He would do it in the most Gentle way he could, and so leaving the King's Apartment, met with the Earl of Warwick as he was passing through the Guard-Chamber: Having a mind to sound his Inclinations concerning his former Passion for the Countess, I am a going, said he with a low Voice, to lye at the Lady Anglesey's this Night, Have you any Commission to entrust me with? The Earl being somewhat Surprized, did not answer immediately; but soon after told him, he was a going to see a Fair, Little-Lyrness, and that he envy'd not his Fortune. You are angry, my Lord, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook, and I find there is more of Passion than of Indifferency, in that you say of the Countess of Devonshire. You know but little, return'd the Earl coldly, if this is your real Sentiment: Don't you know, that I am all of a Piece, and know not what Dissembling is? The Earl of Pembrook, having a mind to pry further into his Inclinations, told him, You think your self Cured, when you are still very Sick. I am not such a Novice, reply'd he, not to know my own Condition; I read over her obliging Farewell every day, and it is there I meet with what is sufficient to support my Reason, and to augment my Scorn. Then you still stand in need of a Counterpoison, cry'd the Earl of Pembrook, you are not quite clear, say what you will. This is to insult over me, return'd the Earl with a serious look; Sure you take me for a mean Spirited Fellow: I assure you, I don't so much as think any more of her. I knew she was Ill, and I heard it not without some Satisfaction, which sufficiently convinces me, that Thanks to Heaven, she has no farther Power over me: It were happy for me, added he, could I be Cured now as well of my Hatred, as I have bin of Love; I should then have but little occasion to dispute with the King, as I now do about Madam Grey; and tho' he Adores her, I don't question but to be Reveng'd of her, first or last, according as a favourable opportunity offers. How, said the Earl of Pembrook, and do you still keep in remembrance, what she did against you? I shall never forgive her, said the Earl, till she has well suffer'd for it; and till then, I will give my self the Satisfaction of being the most Cruel of all her Enemies.

By this time, several Persons coming in to interrupt their Discourse, the Earls of Warwick and Pembrook parted, the last being extreamly well Satisfy'd at what he had heard his Rival say; But scarce was got down the Stairs when hearing himself call'd by some body, found it was the Earl of Warwick; I Conjure you, said he to him, not to miss of this Opportunity of telling her, how far I am bewitch'd to my new Mistress; for I would have Madam Devonshire know, that her Fetters are not everlasting; that I had Power enough to change them, nay, that I am almost inconsolable, to have ever worn them. That is enough for me, said my Lord Pembrook, to tell her, what will please her much. And why please her, said the Earl of Warwick? That is the least of my intention. I am Satisfy'd, said the Earl of Pembrook, with a Malicious Smile, She will be overjoy'd to hear you think of her no more. The Earl of Warwick, not being able to contain himself, told him with a deep Sigh, Alas! my Lord, how happy are you, not to be in Love with this Cruel Woman; I wou'd I never knew her, or at least never lov'd her, at the Price of half my Life: But Farewell, I must leave you, the Recital of my weakness would prove to my Confusion.

Having said these Words, he went up to the King, whilst the Earl of Pembrook remain'd immoveable, leaning against the Wall, quite confounded at the last Words of the Earl of Warwick, not questioning, but that he had flattered himself in vain: 'Tis certain, said he to himself, he is still affected with the same Passion, and 'tis nothing but self-love, that makes him despise her who despises him; For, how is it possible, that so Ardent a Passion should be quite extinguish'd at once? Perhaps, when the Countess Writ what she did, it was not without the greatest violence to her self; how can I tell, whither not some indispensible Reasons obliged her to it? O God! What Torments do I endure! What Obstacles am I likely to encounter! What difficulties am I not to Surmount! Whether am I a going? My Fetters being already so weighty, if I see the Countess and declare my Passion to her, and she should be offended thereat, should I not then be much more unfortunate than I am now?

A Thousand objections came into his Head against the intended Journey to Twittenham; but at last, let my Treatment be what it will, I shall have at least the Satisfaction of having declared my Passion to her; so, that if I suffer, she'll know 'tis for her I suffer, and of all the Misfortunes, this is greatest, to Love and to Conceal it. Whilst he was taking this Resolution, he espy'd my Lord Stanley, and ask'd him, whether they should not go together to Twittenham? He embraced the offer, and they were received with singular kindness by the Earl of Devonshire, who was very glad of good Company, to divert his Spleen, which most afflicted him when he was alone.

The Earl of Pembrook, did not see the Countess that Night, because she did not stir out of her Chamber; and if without being Guilty of ill Manners she could have refused the Visits of those that came to her Father's House, she would have bin extreamly glad of it. The Earl of Pembrook ask'd how she did, and told my Lord Stanley, to perswade her not to use so much Reservedness to him as she did to others; Put her in mind, said he smiling, that it was upon her Command, I left you in the quiet possession of the Fair Lelia, and don't you think it not reasonable she should shew some particular Regard to me? My Lord said she ought, and promis'd to introduce him to his Sister's Apartment the next Morning so soon as she should be awake.

To perform his Promise, he went to a little Wood, where the Earl had bin passing his time ever since day-break, near a Cool Spring, where the Countess used often to divert her self; He saw Aurora dissipating by degrees the darkness of the Night, whilst the Sweet Singing Birds seem'd to revive Nature it self, during the Coldness of the Morning, when the Sun Beams being as yet feeble, rather delighted than offended the Eyes. The Earl address'd himself to the Stars, and told them his Pain and Perplexity; He would have thought his Condition sufficiently happy to find himself in the same place, where his admir'd Countess had her Habitation, had she bin more sensible for him, or less for another; but this Reflection was like to kill him upon the spot, had it not bin that he remembred those few cruel Words she writ to the Earl of Warwick; This being the only Foundation whereon he built the hopes of his Success, in the intended Declaration of his Love.

My Lord Stanley finding him among a Set, or kind of Arbour of Trees, near a Cascade, in a very pensive Posture, told him, I am sorry, my Lord, if I disturb your Thoughts; because I am sensible, your Mind is taken up with something that touches you very near. The Earl of Pembrook sigh'd, and without answering his Question, only told him with a forc'd Smile, That Indifferency was the happiest thing in the World. I easily guess at your meaning, return'd my Lord Stanley; you are in Love, and have reason of Complaint. The Earl fearing he might dive too far into his Sentiments, thought fit to divert him, by making him his pretended Confident, and relating to him an old Adventure of his, as if it were one of a very late Date.

I must own to you, said he, That to forget the ingrateful Lelia, I resolv'd to enter into an Amorous Engagement, in good earnest, with a Lady who might really deserve it; 'Twas not long before I got acquainted with a Widow, a most Charming Creature; who, tho' she was pass'd the first Flower of her Youth, yet still retain'd a thousand Beauties, whose Lustre was encreas'd by her lively Wit and most engaging Conversation: She gave me great Demonstrations of her Esteem, tho' she pretended to a most severe Virtue; but in hopes that time would produce more favourable Sentiments in her, I Courted her with all the Ardour and Application that could be: But one Day happening to come to her House, when she did not expect me, I enter'd the Door, and in a great Lookinglass that hung in her Bed-chamber and faced the Entry, I espy'd a certain young Pedaut, who being lately come out of some University-Colledge, she had made a Tutor to her Son; if you had but seen his lank greesy Hair, you must have own'd he would make but a very lothsome Bed-fellow for so Nice a Lady; besides that, his Face was so ugly, as was enough to frighten me: So away I went immediately, but did not forget to write her every thing that Anger could inspire me with, and to give her to understand the reason of it, and my constant Aversion to such pretended Virtuous Ladies. She touch'd to the quick, and thinking it less Disadvantagious to make me her Confident, than to let me have a sinister Opinion of her Virtue, sent to me one of her Relations, being the only Person that was Privy to her Marriage with this Fellow, who gave me a full Account of it. I protest to you, that I was more surpriz'd at this than at the first; but you may believe I made the best use of it, 〈◊〉 was to Cure my self of my Passion, it being contrary to my Inclinations, to love what I can't esteem: However, I am forced to offer constant Violences to my Heart, and have taken a positive Resolution, to avoid all Lady's as the Bane of our Tranquillity; and whenever I feel but the least Inclination for any one, I am sure I will never see her again whilst I live.

You threaten the Fair Sex very hard, and I believe more than you are able to perform, reply'd my Lord Stanley. I think we may both defie them, said the Earl abruptly. My Sister will give you a favourable Reception, reply'd my Lord, if she be but acquainted with your Resolution. How! return'd the Earl, Would she not have one Love that which is lovely? No, added my Lord, she is such an Enemy of all manner of Gallantry, that nothing can be more terrible than she to a Lover: Come then, let us go to see her, and do you make her sensible of your rare Resolution. Had my Lord bin sensible what Affections these Words caus'd in his Friend, he would have acted with more Caution, and he might soon have discover'd the Symptoms thereof in his very Eyes, had he but look'd at him; but little guessing at his Intentions, he thought no further on the matter.

Whilst the Earl of Pembrook was going towards the Countess's Apartment, he was oppress'd with such a Confusion of Thoughts as is scarce to be express'd: Are not my Chains already weighty enough, said he to himself? Must I go to see her, to augment my Passion? And can I flatter my self that the Earl of Warwick is absolutely indifferent to her? 'Tis true, she has writ to him in harsh Terms; but alass! this may be the effect of Anger, Jealousy, or some Error committed by him; these things are soon pass'd by, when a Person truly loves; so that the Resolution I have taken of disclosing to her my Passion, may prove perhaps the most fatal Action of my Life. He was a thousand times upon the point of changing his dangerous Resolution; but the Pleasure he propos'd to himself, got the better over all the Considerations of Danger; and thus as he was entring the Countess's Bed-Chamber, he had much a-do to forbear running straightways to the Fair Lady's Bed-side, where she appear'd in a negligent Dress, attired with nothing but her own Charms, with somewhat a Pale Countenance, enough to discover her Grief; but in the midst of her Languishment, there appear'd still such a Lustre in her Eyes, as prov'd dangerous in effect, to all that beheld them.

The Earl of Pembrook is come to tell you something that will charm you, said my Lord Stanley, as he was entring her Chamber; He hates Love, and flies all Opportunities relating to it; he is got away from Court to seek for shelter here. I am afraid I have not chosen my Ground very well to Fight in, reply'd the Earl, interrupting him; But, Madam, my Lord talks at random, he ought to tell you the Reasons that engag'd me into these Resolutions, which I intend to justify to you alone. Keep to your Resolution, reply'd the Countess, to love no more, don't alter your Design; and if my Brother would follow my Advice, I would have him do so too. I don't desire to Engage you, whilst you have such a Second, said my Lord Stanley to his Sister: Adieu, I am a going a Hunting, and if I meet with some Solitary Place, it may be I may bestow the Day there upon my Thoughts: So he went out of the Room, leaving the Earl at full Liberty to entertain the Countess. 'Tis certain 'twas the only thing in the World the Earl was desirous of, yet found himself at a stand; for tho' he knew very well what he intended to say, he knew not whether she would mind it; so their Conversation was at first upon indifferent matters.

By your Absence, Madam, said he, the Court is robb'd of its chiefest Ornament; every thing looks very Melancholly there, since you have left it. I used to appear there so seldom, reply'd she, that I can scarce be miss'd. 'Tis far, Madam, from what you guess at, said he; the King often speaks of you, and the Earl of Warwick cannot forget you. What is it you tell me, my Lord, said she with a Blush? The King saw me by chance, at a Seat near Windsor, where he was receiv'd with that Respect as was due to his Person, and has never look'd after me since. The Earl came along with General Talbot, to pay a Visit to my Lord Devonshire, and I never saw him above twice or thrice in my Life. I can't but conclude from what you say, added the Earl, that you have quite raz'd him out of your Memory, and rejoice at it, as at a Piece of good News.

At these Words, the Countess not questioning, but that the same Letter which was restor'd to her by the Chevalier de Hereford, was also faln into the Hands of the Earl of Pembrook, she was so afflicted thereat, as to break forth into Tears. Oh! cry'd the Earl, kneeling before her Bed-side, What is it I see! you are in Tears my Divine Countess, you Weep: This Happy Mortal has cost you many a Sigh. Don't misconstrue my just Indignation by false Appearances, said she to him; and believe me, that I hate the Earl of Warwick, as he deserves. You hate him, Madam? Yes, I hate him, said she, the very Remembrance of him is insupportable to me. He is still happier than I, reply'd the Earl sighing, you don't hate him, till after having honour'd him with your particular Esteem, whilst you look upon me with so indifferent an Eye, as if I was not worth your Hatred: But, Madam, continu'd he, since he has bin so bold as to Love you, and you have known it without being offended at it; May not I be permitted to say that I feel for you all that Admiration, the most passionate Respect, and a most sincere Passion, are able to inspire a Man with? I don't propose to raise my Fortune upon the Ruins of his; or to deserve any thing at your Hands, at the Price of his Destruction; tho' he be a very dangerous Rival, I have within me a certain Generosity, that does not in the least agree with such Actions: But give me leave to declare to you my real Sentiments, they being such as will not wound your Virtue; and the Flame of that great Light which affords us the satisfaction of the Day, is not compos'd of a purer Matter than that which burns in my Heart. My Lord, said the Countess, interrupting him, you have taken too much the Advantage of the Confusion and Trouble you saw me in; you have told me what highly displeases me, and what convinces me more and more in my Opinion, that there is not a more unfortunate Person upon Earth than my self: Were the Earl of Warwick of a more honourable Temper, than he is, he would not have forgotten to tell you when he spoke of our Conversation, that I never gave him any occasion of bragging of his good Fortune, and that I omitted nothing to deliver my self from his Persecutions: But that fatal Star, which bestow'd upon me something of Beauty, did it doubtless to my Destruction; it would be more happy for me to be hated by all the World, than to be belov'd after the same manner I am now: But be it as it will, my Lord, I have too high an Esteem for you to quarrel with you; I will forget every thing you told me, provided you promise not to see me any more. What an odd sort of Pardon is this, Madam, reply'd he abruptly; What to promise, to avoid seeing you? No, no, I am not any more thus far Master of my own Actions, as to engage my Word for a thing of such a nature: Alas! what is it I have not endur'd since I saw you in the Wood near Chelsea, in the utmost Lustre of your Beauty! You may talk what you please, answer'd the Countess, were I not in Bed, I would leave you; but my Mind is taken up with such variety of things, that it is an easie matter for me not to hear you.

This Indifferency, or rather Slight, more nearly affected the Earl, than if she had broken out into violent Expressions; Oh! Madam, cry'd he, I am too sensible that you pursue your own Resolutions; you can't persuade me, that you hate Love; but you may convince me with ease, that you hate me: 'Tis time to dye, continu'd he, I must dye, and so bowing his Head to the Ground, remain'd immoveable, like a Man without his Senses. The Countess fearing he might be surpriz'd upon his Knees near her Bed-side, desir'd him to take his Seat; I am so unfortunate, said she to him, that even the most innocent things become criminal, if they have any relation to me; and I hope you will not augment my Pain, by adding new ones to it. The Earl took his Seat, but spoke not one Word more, so that this dumb Conversation beginning to prove tedious, he arose on a sudden, made a profound Reverence, and so left her Chamber, and immediately after, the House, finding himself not in a Condition, to carry on matters there without danger of being discover'd by some of the Family in his Intentions.

He came not to London till it was late, that he might the better keep conceal'd for some Days in his own House; which time he spent in endeavouring to calm the Tempest in his Mind: After that he came to Court, where he met with a favourable Reception from the King, who ask'd him, whether he had acquitted himself of the Commission he had charg'd him with? The Earl told him, That he could find no Opportunity of speaking to her alone, and that it seem'd as if she knew his Errand, by her being so cautious in avoiding it. She was not much in the wrong of it, said the King smiling; but you can't but own, that she is much alter'd, and so I am reveng'd of her. The Earl of Pembrook, who had reason enough to wish that his Master might think of her no more, reply'd, She was scarce to be known, and that it seem'd almost not natural for so Handsome a Person to grow so Ugly. Her extravagant Love for the Earl of Warwick, is the cause of it, said the King; But do you imagine that she still loves him? Sir, reply'd he, I had sight of her but one Moment; she seem'd to be full of Grief, but spoke not a Word of the Earl of Warwick. He will not be concern'd at it, added the King, he loves her no more; his predominant Passion is, to plague Madam Grey, he hates her mortally, and would always persuade me, that she is Unfaithful, but I am too well acquainted with the cause of his Hatred to believe him; I would have you tell him, that I don't like it; that every thing he says upon that Head appears suspicious to me; and that if he will oblige me, he shall make his Court to her.

The Earl of Pembrook being very well inclin'd to execute the King's Command, went immediately to the Earl of Warwick, who receiv'd him with all the Marks of a tender Friendship: What News do you bring me, said the Earl, from Madam Devonshire, Is she still in the same Humour against me? She is in so languishing a Condition, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook, that I believe she has not strength enough left to love or hate any thing; and I never saw her but in Company, where there was no Opportunity of talking of you. I am overjoy'd you have no News to tell me from her, continu'd the Earl of Warwick, which might have stopt my Progress in what I have advanc'd within these few Days; 'tis true, my Lord, I have almost quite forgot her. I congratulate you, answer'd the Earl of Pembrook coldly; but can scarce believe you. I have since made many serious Reflections upon every particular relating to that Affair, added the Earl of Warwick, and find nothing but matter of Trouble and Vexation in it: You know what I have told you before, upon that Head; I never enjoy'd one Day with Content; I was forc'd to hazard every thing, to get sight of her but for one Moment, and that even against her Consent; I was surrounded by the King and the General on one side, and by her Husband and Madam Grey on the other; Judge what a sort of Entertainment this was, for one not acquainted with Disappointments: However, I lov'd her too well, to be check'd by these Difficulties, none but her self could have alter'd my Resolution; you know how she managed the matter, and what a most gracious Farewel she bestow'd upon me, whilst I suffer'd such a harsh Banishment upon her account: All these Reasons have had such an Influence upon me, that I begin to relish the Sweets of a real Indifferency; add to this my Engagement with a lovely Person, who treats me as well as the Countess did ill, you can't but agree with me, That I could not do better, than to take a fix'd Resolution of consulting my own Repose.

The Earl of Pembrook hearken'd to his Words with a great deal of Pleasure; Oh! said he to himself, and why should the Fair Countess not be acquainted with the Earl of Warwick's Indifferency for her? 'Tis possible a Noble and Generous Anger may plead in my behalf. Then remembering the King's Command, Believe me, said he, my Lord, you should give a Visit to Madam Grey, and if you can't prevail so far upon your self, as to forgive her in good earnest, do it at least in outward appearance; 'tis no small Trouble to the King, to see his Favourite and his Mistress always at open War; and you talk of her to him, in so disobliging a manner, that, instead of making your Court, you displease him. I am sensible of it as much as your self, reply'd the Earl, and know my self in the wrong, to take so much pains to Cure him of a Passion, which will carry him too far for his Glory: I am also willing to own to you, that I should scarce be so Zealous in the matter, were it not to revenge my self for what she has done to me; so tht, as the Case stands, I can do no otherwise, than to be her declar'd Enemy. After your return from Caerleon, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook, you gave your Word to the King, That you would live in a good Correspondence with her. And so I would, said he, did she use me well: But is it not an odd thing, that he is dissatisfy'd with me, because I am sensible of her immensurable ambitious Designs? You are prevented by Passion, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook; 'Tis hard to imagine, that her Designs reach so high, she being the Widow only of a private Gentleman. No matter for that, said the Earl of Warwick, she to well knows her own strength: So they parted. The Earl of Pembrook being highly rejoic'd at what he had heard the Earl of Warwick confess during this Conversation; so that thinking himself freed of a Dangerous Rival, he made his Court to the King; but did not neglect to infuse into the King such Sentiments concerning Madam Grey, as might make him be upon his Guard.

Whilst every thing was in Tranquillity at Court, fresh matter of Vexation arose at Twittenham; The Chevalier de Hereford, we have had occasion to mention before, being of the same Family with the Earl of Devonshire, a mutual Confidence and Friendship had bin contracted betwixt them: But to render this durable, the Chevalier must either never have seen the Countess of Devonshire, or prov'd less sensible of her Charms. He look'd upon the first beginning of his Passion, only as an Effect of Compassion for her; knowing that a Woman of so haughty a Temper as she, must needs resent highly, the unjust Jealousies of a Husband. When he saw the Letter she writ to the Earl of Warwick, this augmented his Esteem, seeing she intended to check his Passion, and that if she had a particular Value for him before others, her Heart nevertheless had kept it self within the strictest Rules of her Duty. These confus'd Thoughts by degrees being met in good Order, he look'd upon the Countess as the most Beautiful Person in the World, who being shut up in the Country, might by little and little be accustom'd to hearken to his Passion.

'Twas this that made him so anxious in taking that occasion of setting her at Variance with the Earl of Warwick; for a Secret Lover has gain'd a good Step, if he can remove the Person belov'd by his Mistress. Every thing succeeded according to his desire; my Lady Devonshire misled by the Honourable deportment of the Chevalier, conceiv'd a Hatred against the Earl of Warwick; she detested his Perfidiousness, as on the other Hand she thought her self oblig'd to the Chevalier, for having restor'd her Letter to her: This Obligation join'd to the Confidence her Lord put in him, induc'd her to see him frequently, and even to talk to him with an absolute sincerity. Several Months pass'd thus, the Chevalier being not as yet fully acquainted with his own Sentiments. I told you before, he thought it was only Esteem and Compassion that engag'd him in her Interest, to inveigh against the Earl of Warwick, and make her raze him out of her Remembrance: But Love is an Evil that will not lye conceal'd, he began to be sensible that he was catch'd in the Snare himself, he did all he could to Cure his Passion, but it prov'd too late. On the other Hand, the Countess shewing him a Thousand innocent Marks of her Friendship, to acquire his, each of these prov'd a Snare, wherein the Chevalier saw himself entangled past all Hopes of getting out: For upon his return London, where he intended to stay for some time, every thing prov'd as irksome to him, as if he had bin in a strange Country; his only satisfaction in the World now being, to see the Countess.

All this while, he loaded himself with a Thousand Reproaches, to abuse thus the Friendship of the Earl of Devonshire, his Dear Kinsman, who had open'd his very Bosom to him; No, would he cry sometimes, I will see her no more, I will choose a voluntary Banishment from that House, where my Reception is such as to disturb all my Repose. He staid for some time at London, and thought to divert himself with appearing constantly at Court, but all this was unpleasing to him; he was forced, in spite of himself, to return to my Lord Devonshire's. Whilst he was thus struggling with the most violent Passions, that ever a Man did, he fell most dangerously ill at Twittenham; the Countess being just then upon her Recovery, and of a very grateful Temper, being sensible also, that to take Care of the Chevalier, was in effect to oblige her Husband, would sit whole Days together by his Bed-side; which piece of Goodness was so far from accelerating his Cure, that as often as she came into the Chamber his Fever encreas'd: At last, his Condition became so dangerous, that the Physitians advis'd him to be carry'd to London.

The Countess of Devonshire being the first who told him of the Physitians Advice, she perceiv'd him to be highly concern'd thereat; What is it makes your Countenance change thus, says she? Madam, reply'd he, I am very ready to obey you, and to disclose to you the cause which has reduc'd me to this Condition you see me in; 'Tis the Pain I feel of being remov'd out of your Sight, without any Hopes of ever returning hither again. Don't tell me a thing that must needs afflict me, reply'd she, your Health is not in so desperate a State; we shall see one another again, Chevalier, and I shall be overjoy'd at it. I should dye too Happy, said he, durst I flatter my self with this Hope; but you will soon Hate me, Madam, when I have declar'd to you, That I Love you: Yes, added he, I Love you to such a degree, that the Violence I have offer'd to my self, not to disclose it, is that which has reduc'd me to that State you see me in: If you have any Remnants of Compassion to plead in my behalf, conceal from me your Resentment, or rather don't conceive a Hatred, Divine Countess, against one whose Death will be a suffering Revenge to you.

He said no more, after having utter'd these few Words, his Eyes seeming as if he look'd for Mercy in Madam Devonshire's Face; and she actually look'd upon him with more Compassion than Anger: I have some Obligations to you, Chevalier, said she, I can't forget, in spite of the Displeasure you give me at this time; but he assur'd, I never receiv'd any that affected me more: Alas! I consider'd you as a faithful Friend, in whose Conversation I might find some Relief against those Vexations which have so sensibly afflicted me for some time past, and now I must lose you: Oh! that unfortune Beauty, which to another would prove an Object of Satisfaction, is to me a constant Source of Pain, which are renew'd every Day to me. The abundance of Tears that fell from her Fair Eyes, intermix'd with Sobs and Sighs, would not give her leave to say more: But the Chevalier, taking the Word, What is it I see, cry'd he! Madam you Cry! and I am in some measure the occasion of it; Will my Death be a sufficient Expiation of my Crime? I don't wish for your Death, reply'd she, but for your Cure; and so perfect a Cure, that you may never speak to me again in the same manner as you did just now. I have not power enough to make you such a Promise, said he, it will be much easier for me, to avoid the Sight of you, than to stifle a Passion, I shall be forc'd to cherish in spite of all your Rigour; Why was not I made the Earl of Warwick? Is it possible, said the Countess, not without some Symptoms of Indignation, that, if you have those Sentiments for me, you just now discover'd? Is it possible, I say, you should envy the Fortune of him, who is the most Cruel Enemy I have in the World? Alas! Madam, said he to her, you deceive your self, if you believe you hate my Lord Warwick; that Secret Concern I had in diving into your real Sentiments, has often made me speak of him without any Diffidence or Dissimulation; I have bin too sensible, that he is still very dear to you, and it has often brought me to the Brink of Despair: but, Madam, the Esteem I bore you, made me keep Silence; I durst not make you sensible of your own Sentiments; my fear of discomposing or displeasing you was such an untrespassable Law to me, as to fain that I did not perceive the ascendant he got over your Heart; and tho' I was very assiduous in removing those Jealousies, which so much afflicted the Earl of Devonshire, I talk'd to him against my own Knowledge; but I spoke to him, Madam, for your Repose, being ready at the same time to sacrifice all mine to yours.

Tho' you are very much mistaken in your Guess, said the Countess, interrupting him, I think my self nevertheless oblig'd to your Conduct, both in respect of my Husband and my self; but I can assure you, were you less prejudic'd than you are, or better acquainted with my present Inclinations, you would not accuse me, as you do, of so much Weakness, to return any favourable Sentiments for the most dishonourable Person in the World; Nay, I would sooner have pardon'd him, for having contriv'd my Death, than for having endeavour'd to stain my Reputation in the World: Then you don't love him, reply'd the Chevalier sighing? I hate him pass'd all recovery, said she. If it be so, continu'd he, May I hope for nothing from your Compassion? You may be assur'd, answer'd she, that I will forget every thing you told me to Day, provided you give me no reason of Complaint for the future. I rather will choose a voluntary Exile, said he, I am not in a Condition to keep my Word upon that point, as you require: I must then, Madam, forbear seeing you, and the Earl of Devonshire will perhaps not be in a better Humour; for I have often calm'd his Rage, and no other but my self would have known how to merit something from you upon that score. But, said she, interrupting him, Is it possible you should bare so little respect to him, as to talk to me at the rate you do? I protest to you, I can scarce believe it; and that of all Mankind, who are subject to such Frailties, you were the last one I suspected in that kind. I can't justify my Conduct, said he; if it is a Crime, Madam, I suppose I shall soon expiate it by the Loss of a Life, that has bin for a long time odious to me. He had scarce utter'd these last Words, when falling into a Swoon, all his Senses left him, and the Countess divided betwixt Compassion and Resentment, call'd for Help; but at the same time left the Room, and retir'd to her own Chamber, where she found Albine, who then had not as yet forfeited all her Credit with her.

Alas! Albine, said she to her, full of Trouble, what a strange Scene has bin acted here! my Misfortunes, instead of diminishing, encrease every Moment: The Chevalier de Hereford has made to me such a Declaration, as puts me quite beyond my self; him I look'd upon as my best Friend, but he proves as indiscreet as the Earl of Pembrook; besides, I am under a great Dilemma how to deal with him; for if I use him roughly, he will perhaps be revengeful, and you know my Lord hearkens to, and believes every thing he says; if I shew him some Complaisance, What Construction will he make of my Indulgence? and what is it I must not fear hereafter? This will render my Condition but worse; and after all, Am I Mistress of my own Heart? Of that Heart, I say, so often revolts against all the Dictates of my Reason? Which is so very frail, as to make me to this Day, discover some Merit in my most Mortal Enemy: Yes, Albine, 'Tis not is my power to hate the Earl of Warwick; How Happy am I in not seeing him! How much am I in Love with this Solitude! 'Tis true, I suffer here, but no matter, as long as I preserve here my Innocency.

Hitherto Albine durst not speak in behalf of the Earl of Warwick, for her Mistress seeming so highly exasperated against him, she did not believe he had retain'd so good a Place in her Heart, as she found he did, so she would not neglect this Opportunity; Perhaps, said she, Madam, the Earl is not so guilty, as he has bin represented to you; Remember now, it was the Chevalier de Hereford, who render'd him thus Criminal in your Eyes; and is it not very probable, that at that very time he might have his Secret Designs of ruining him in your Opinion? No, no, cry'd the Countess, I remain unalterable in respect to the Earl of Warwick; his Behaviour has bin such, that I must be Blinder than any Woman in the World, to be deceiv'd in it; Neither do I deceive my self, continu'd she; I only deplore the Excess of my Misfortunes, that I should meet with so many Enemies, amongst those very Persons who owe me the most Respect. She then kept Silence in a pensive Posture, without giving the least Attention or Answer to what Albine further told her.

Immediately after, the Earl of Devonshire coming into the Chamber, and seeing the dangerous State of his Kinsman, was much afflicted thereat, and being the only Person whom he had made the Confident of his Jealousy, he resolv'd to go along with him to London, and to stay there till his full Recovery. He told the Countess that he intended to go to London, because he should not enjoy himself in the Country, if he should let him go alone; and that, if his Distemper should prove of any long Continuance, he desir'd Madam Anglesey and her, to come to Town likewise: She answer'd coldly, that he might have dispens'd himself from going, by committing him to the Care of some trusty Person; But that he was his own Master, and that her Credit was so inconsiderable with him, that she durst not attempt to engage him to stay at Twittenham. He gave her a surly Look, and without speaking one Word, went out of the Room. Soon after, hearing a Noise in the Court, she found it was the Chevalier de Hereford and the Earl of Devonshire, both upon their Departure for London, the first in a Horse-Litter, and the other in his Coach. They were no sooner arriv'd there, but the Earls of Warwick and Pembrook being the first that got Notice thereof, this serv'd to revive their Passions: For the Earl of Warwick could not flatter himself to speak to the Countess, as long as her Husband Argus-like watch'd her himself; and the Earl of Pembrook imagin'd, that being now at Liberty, she would enjoy the Advantage thereof, and afford him a more favourable Reception.

He was so far from making the least Mistery of his intended Journey to Twittenham, that he visited the Earl of Devonshire upon that account, who gave him some Letters to his Lady; However, he conceal'd it from the Earl of Warwick, whom he still look'd upon as his Rival; notwithstanding the Hatred he bore to Madam Grey, and the Pains he took to encompass her Ruin, seem'd to divert his Passion a contrary way. As she was not ignorant of all the Steps he took for that end, and on her side repay'd him in the same Coin; the King was constantly troubled with the Complaints of his Favourite against his Mistress, and with hers against him. He was engag'd in the same Interest with Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, a Lady of Quality, and of extraordinary Beauty: The King, whilst he was yet Earl of Marche, enter'd into an Amorous Intrigue with her, which was not interrupted by the Lustre of his Crown; but the Charms both of Mind and Body, join'd in the Person of Madam Grey, did not a little dazzle and prevail over those of the young Mrs. Lucy. She resented the matter like an injur'd Mistress, and would frequently engage the Earl of Warwick, to give the King an account of the sinister Conduct of Madam Grey: But this coming from a suspected Hand, whom he knew to be her Enemy, the King would say, This lovely Widow is faithful to me; Why would you have me check my Passion for her? And who can you think of, should be the Person, she would prefer before me? If Love and Reason did always go Hand in Hand, reply'd the Earl, your Majesty might rest assur'd, that Madam Grey was sensible of her Good Fortune, and that what I say against her, was not consonant to Truth; but, Sir, Love is Blind; put her to the Trial, and to such a one as may put it beyond all Doubt, that you are in full Possession of her Heart, or at least, that may justify her Conduct. The King tir'd out with these repeated Accusations, told him one Day, That he ow'd him no Obligation for the Trouble he gave himself. I desire no Reward from your Majesty, reply'd he, with a great deal of Frankness; but I shall at least have the satisfaction of having done my Duty. Oh! said the King, your Zeal is very troublesome, you may shew it upon other Occasions, and not disturb me any further in Matters relating to my Mistress. But all this did not check the Earl of Warwick's Resolution, he often told the King many things of her, which prov'd most generally false, but at the same time furnish'd no small matter of Vexation to the Fair Widow; and what most of all afflicted her, was, that he was ready upon all Occasions, to extol the Merits of Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, who she fear'd might one time or other alienate the King's Inclinations from her; so that she was at open Enmity with the Earl.

Thus matters went at Court, when the Earl of Devonshire and the Chevalier de Hereford came to London: The Earl of Warwick, who still retain'd in his mind the Charms of the Countess of Devonshire, and who most passionately desired to speak with her, to reproach her Rigour, and to recover his Credit with her, if it were not entirely lost, would certainly have given her a visit at Twittenham, had it not bin, that he look'd upon the destruction of Madam Grey, as the most essential point on which depended both his Repose and Grandure: He had already made such steps towards her removal from the King's Favour, as would have proved infallible with any other Person except the King, quite prepossessed with an high Opinion of her; but being dayly in hopes of finding out something that might tend to the disadvantage of his Enemy, he delay'd his Journey to Twittenham for some time.

The Earl of Pembrook had also not laid aside his design, being desirous to dive into those of the Earl of Warwick, entred into discourse with him concerning my Lady Devonshire; and the Earl not in the least imagining that he talk'd to his Rival, told him, without the least reserve, that, were it not for some business of the greatest Consequence, he had at Court, he would endeavour to see the fair Countess in Disguise. Pembrook overjoy'd to find the Earl employ'd otherwise, resolved not to lose a moment, to accomplish the design he had laid of carrying away the Countess to one of his Seats, where he intended to keep her secretly as long as possibly he could, without hearkening to, or valuing the Danger, which his Reason laid before him: For he was in Love, and that is all as can be said in his Justification.

To encompass his end, he had caused a kind of a Barge to be built, finely Painted and Guilded, after the same manner as they were said to be used in the Indies, that so having nothing of the European Modal in it, the Ladies might be surprized with its Novelty, as well as with the Habit of him, who was the pretended Master thereof, who represented both in his Garb, Actions and Looks, an English Indian Merchant, lately come from those Parts. The Disguised Earl, was no sooner got up the River with his Barge as far as Twittenham, but he sent his Interpreter to invite the Countesses of Anglesey and Devonshire a-board her, to take a view of what Rarities he had to dispose of. Accordingly they came a-board her the next Day, where their Eyes being glutted with great variety of Rich Indian Stuffs and other Rarities, the Merchant told the young Countess, That if She would come without her Mother the next day, he would shew and sell her the Richest Silks that ever she saw in her Life. And why would not you have my Mother come along with me, said she? Because, reply'd he, at my departure from the Indies, I made a Vow to our Gods, not to dispose of any of these richest Stuffs, but to young Persons. The Countess laugh'd at the Merchant's Fancy, and did not come again the next following day; so her Curiosity brought her thither the Day after, attended only by some few of her Women.

Whilst she was busie in viewing and picking out what she lik'd best, they had Hoisted Sail, and the Barge went forward a-pace, before she perceiv'd it; but dreaming of nothing, ask'd the Indian-Merchant, Whether they were a going. To the Indies, Madam, reply'd he: The Emperor my Master sent me on purpose to carry you to him. The Countess laugh'd at it, taking it for a Jest; but perceiving they went on as fast as they could, she began to be frighten'd in good Earnest. Don't think to carry me any further, if you do, I will kill my self. The Earl of Pembrook seeing her so resolute, told her, Madam, don't fear; 'tis the Earl of Warwick who has sent me, he must either see you or dye; and he has order'd me to convey you to some delicious Place, where you will see him more Amorous and more Faithful than ever.

The Countess more enrag'd than before, told him, She would not see him while she liv'd; and that before they could bring her to the Place where the Earl of Warwick was, she would either Drown or Kill her self with her own Hands. The Excess of her Despair discover'd it self, both in her Countenance and Actions; 'tis true, she did not Cry, but casting most furious Looks to the Water, shew'd that she aim'd at the River. The Earl of Pembrook lay at her Feet, not daring to discover himself for fear of encreasing her Fury; but did all he could to appease it, telling her, He would carry her back to Twittenham, if she was positively bent upon it. She vouchsafed him not one Word, but on a sudden threw her self into the Thames. Good God! What a surprize was this to her Passionate Lover! He little thought she would have taken so fatal a Resolution, and now despising his own Life, leap'd in after her: Being a good Swimmer he soon got hold of her Gown, as she was rising in the Water; but not withstanding this, they had both bin drown'd together, had not some of their Water-men come timely to their assistance.

The Women of her Attendence, seeing their Mistress without Sense or Motion, sent forth most doleful Cries to Heaven: And the Earl of Pembrook seeing, that since the Plot would not take under the Name of the Earl of Warwick, there was but little Hopes for him; resolv'd, without discovering himself, to set the Countess down where he had taken her up. Madam, said he to her, after she was come to her self again, you need not have thus hazarded your Life, by throwing your self into the River, to force me to turn back to Twittenham; our Intention was, to make you Happy, but since you're against it, there is no reason we should incur your Hatred, when our Business was to deserve your Good-will: Live, Madam, Live for a Jealous Husband; fly your truest Friend; 'tis your ill Star that Rules you, and you will have occasion enough to repent of it hereafter. Away, away, Impostor, said she, go and try your Skill upon some less Virtuous or more Credulous Person than my self; and thank Heavens, I am of the weaker Sex, or else I would make you feel the Effects of my just Resentment, for the Game you were going to play me. Whilst they were talking thus, they were got so near the Bank of the River, that by the help of a long Plank, the Countess and her Women could get conveniently out of the Barge; the Earl of Pembrook, having chang'd his Indian Habit for that of an European, did the same not long after on the opposite Side; and Night approaching, gave them an Opportunity of unloading the Cargo, and having set Fire to the Vessel, they all got to London; without which they might have soon bin discover'd and taken by the Country People.

In effect the Countess of Devonshire her self, immediately prepar'd her self against the ill Consequences, which she foresaw would attend this Attempt: For some of the Inhabitants of Twittenham, had seen her go into the Barge, which immediately made the best of her Way down the River; others had seen her plunge her self into the River, and the Indian-Merchant after her; all which causing no small surprize, the News thereof was soon carry'd to the Earl of Anglesey. The old Countess uneasie, to know what was become of her Daughter, run to the River-side, where she found her Wet all over, just after she was scarce well got out of the Boat, and ask'd her very abruptly, What a fine Walk she had taken. The young Countess appear'd much discompos'd, which creating a Suspicion in her Mother, she told her without staying for her Answer, She had play'd some Trick of Youth, wherein Love had a greater Share than Reason. I protest to you, Madam, reply'd the Countess of Devonshire, you do me the greatest piece of Injustice in the World; you have taken a Prejudice against me, were it not so, you would believe what I am a going to relate to you concerning this Adventure; but I am almost assured you will not give credit to what I say. You ought not to be Judge of my Thoughts, answer'd my Lady Anglesey, speak only, and I shall soon guess whether you are sincere or not. In the Condition I am now in, added she, it will not be proper to give the whole Recital thereof immediately, but I will justify my self, when we come to your Apartment. So they got into the Coach, the young Countess being in such a Confusion, as if she had bin actually Guilty; tho' every thing consider'd, especially her attempting to drown her self, there was but little cause of suspecting her to have had a Hand in the Plot.

She was no sooner got Home, but she went to Bed, where she felt her Mind distracted with a Thousand Reflections concerning the Earl of Warwick, the attempt he had made appearing to her unpardonable, according to the Rules of Virtue and Good Manners: To carry away a marry'd Lady of her Quality and Conduct, appear'd to be so Presumptuous an Action, as could not take rise but from a Love without Bounds. She fancy'd she saw him at her Feet, vowing an Eternal Respect to her; and to excuse himself on account of his Love, to have bin wanting in it: Notwithstanding which, she remain'd much exasperated against him. How! to carry me away by force, said she to the old Albine, what an Opinion must he have of me? And if he has, How can he Love me? But if he thinks well of me, Which way could he suppose I would remain as much as one Moment in his Power? Alas! continu'd she, all what has happen'd will be laid at my Door, and at that very time I endeavour to forget the Earl of Warwick, and even deny my self the Pleasure of thinking of him, they will imagine, that I was willing to follow him to some solitary Place. How Happy had I bin, added she, had I not bin sav'd from the Danger I under-went this very Day! it would have sav'd me a World of disgrace during the whole Course of my Miserable Life. Having spoken these Words, she cry'd most bitterly. Albine then taking the Liberty to interrupt her, 'Twould be unjust, said she, to charge you with a thing, you have no share in; No, Madam, don't disturb your self, your Innocence will confound your Enemies; and, if the Earl of Warwick be never so much irritated against you, he can't but admire and publish your Vertue. Lovers in their Anger give an but indifferent Character of their Mistresses; besides, whatever he can say of me, will be look'd upon as suspicious: But Albine, What will the Earl of Devonshire, What will my Mother think of it? I am sure, they will judge me guilty: Oh! fatal Day to my Repose! Oh! cursed Attempt! What is it I have committed, to draw this Misfortune upon me?

Whilst she was in this Agony, the Countess of Anglesey came into the Room; the Confusion she observ'd in her at first meeting near the River-side, had made her resolve to go to the utmost extremity with her Daughter; but upon further Considerations, thought it best to shut her self up for some time in her Chamber, to restore to her Mind that Tranquillity she thought absolutely requisite in an Affair of this Nature. The young Countess perceiving her to be pretty Calm, her fear was chang'd into a reasonable Confidence, so kissing her Mother's Hand several times, she gave her a sincere Account of the whole Transaction; and notwithstanding her Inclinations for the Earl of Warwick, did not forget to tell her, that he was the Author of it; believ'd it was sufficient to speak the Truth, to perswade her Mother that she did so; but the old Countess recalling to her Mind the Picture dropt out of the Earl's Pocket, with many other Circumstances, which made her then suspect a Correspondence betwixt them, now thought she was fully convinc'd, that her Daughter had the Misfortune of being in Love, and to be belov'd. Her austere Temper could not suffer the foresight of the Dangers she suppos'd her Daughter would be expos'd to, so that instead of Condoling her, she broke out into Reproaches: She told her, The Confession she had made her, seem'd to her an affect only of Constraint, since she had told her nothing but what must be divulg'd a course; But that she could very easily see through that affected Air of Simplicity and Ingenuity: That she might rest assur'd she would always side with my, Lord Devonshire, to keep her under, seeing she had bin so unfortunate as to suffer her self to be led away by such Sentiments as must make her Blush. The young Countess remain'd so highly afflicted at the Construction her Mother upon put her sincere Confession, that she was not able to speak one Word more in her own behalf. Her Silence serving only to accomplish her Mother's suspicions against her, she left her, convinc'd, as she thought, that the Earl of Warwick had not made this Attempt without her Consent. After all this, tho' the Countess of Anglesey judg'd her Daughter guilty of this Error, she was too Wise a Woman not to take all possible Precautions to conceal it from the Earl of Devonshire; she was willing to reduce her Daughter within Bounds, without being accessary to her Ruin.

In the mean while the Earl of Devonshire had scarce ever bin at Twittenham, the Illness of the Chevalier, his Friendship for him, and his Indifferency for his Wife, kept him constantly in London: He attended constantly at Court, and had he not bin sensible, that the Countess was the most Lovely Person in the World, he might perhaps have look'd out for another Engagement; but there are certain Charms, the Characters whereof are indelible. Thus he might perhaps never have heard of the Attempt made upon his Wife, had not the Earl of Pembrook, after his return to London, distracted with Spleen and Malice, resolv'd to find out the Cure of his Passion, in his Continual Application of making his Fortune; For tho' the King had a peculiar regard to him, he might have bin much more in his Favour, had he taken the true Course for it: But his Love-Passion for the Countess, being to him instead of every thing, he took more Pleasure to employ his Thoughts upon her in his Closet, than to pursue his Advantage by attending constantly at Court.

He now began to relent at the time he had lost, and the desire he had of being reveng'd of the Earl of Warwick, who stood betwixt him and the King's absolute Favour, made him enter into a strict Friendship with Edward Woodwill Earl of Rivers, a Person more remarkable for his high Deserts, than for his being the Brother of the Fair Widow. For the rest, his Fortune being not very considerable, and the Earl of Pembrook, who was one of the Richest Lords in the Kingdom, making him a sharer in his whole Fortune, this Act of Generosity so far affected Madam Grey, that she thought the Earl wanted nothing to make him Compleat in her Eyes, than to have an extream Aversion to the Earl of Warwick. The Earl also had given her to understand, that had he met with a less Rival in his Way, than the King, he should have made his Addresses to her; and, as she was for nothing less than a Match, she could have wish'd he had bin her Spouse, he being a Person well shap'd, magnificent and engaging in Conversation; so that every thing concurr'd to settle a good Correspondence betwixt them.

The Earl of Pembrook knew very well what subject of Complaint Madam Grey had against the Earl of Warwick, and endeavour'd to hate him as much as she did, having perhaps as pressing Reasons for it as she. Among other things he took delight to relate to her, as if it had bin a true Story, the Attempt that Earl had made for carrying Madam Devonshire away without her Consent; he would give her a Description of the Boat, with some other Circumstances that attended this Enterprize, as he pretended, viz. How by Mischance she fell into the River, which broke all their Measures. Madam Grey was surpriz'd, to understand that so unaccountable an Action, perform'd within Eight or Nine Miles of London, should have made not the least Noise, and that the Earl of Devonshire, who was the Person most concern'd therein, should be so little acquainted with it as to continue at Court; she was no less surpriz'd at the Earl of Warwick; He had in all Appearance made all his Applications to his new Mistress, he had fix'd his Business and Pleasures in the same Place, his whole Deportment and Air appear'd altogether compos'd. Is it possible, said she, a Man should be so perfect a Master in the Art of Dissimulation? Who could have suspected him, whilst he Feasts all the Ladies at Court, and is scarce ever out of their Company, he should contrive how to carry away one. In short, it being agreed betwixt her and the Earl of Pembrook, to divulge the thing, he gave her a full Account of all the Particulars relating to it. And who could better do it than himself? Nothing was omitted, as she was a declar'd Enemy of the Earl of Warwick's: She told the King of it, who shew'd a greater Concern thereat, than she desired. Is it possible, said he, that a Person of his Capacity and Extraction, should thus far bid Farewel to Reason, as to seek thus his own Destruction for ever? If she had once taken a Resolution to allow her self full Liberty, Why did not she pitch upon my Heart, before that of so indiscreet and inconstant a Man? These Words being not very pleasing to the Fair Widow, she Blush'd more than once; but thought it best to say nothing.

The King was so full of this News, that the first time he saw the Earl of Warwick he spoke to him of it; and the Earl being much surpriz'd, thereat, the King thought it had bin fain'd, to avoid to come to a sincere Confession, so that there wanted but little of his being in a great Passion; and as the Earl of Warwick could not devise how such an Adventure, wherein he had not the least share, should be laid to his Charge, he was so taken up with his Thoughts thereupon, that not observing the King was in Earnest, he turn'd the whole Story into Ridicule, tho' at the same time he resolv'd to find out the bottom of the Design. On the other Hand, Madam Grey's Hatred to the Countess of Devonshire was such, as not to suffer her to let slip so fair an Opportunity of revenging her Quarrel: She took effectual Care to make the Earl of Devonshire acquainted with what had happen'd at Twittenham, and as he was very apt to believe his own Misfortune, he communicated it to the Chevalier de Heresord, who bore his full share in his Afflictions, whilst the Earl of Pembrook kept the Key of the whole Secret in his own Hands: 'Twas he that had the satisfaction of seeing so many Persons concern'd in the Interest of my Lady Devonshire, reduc'd almost to Despair, and himself thus reveng'd for her Cruel Treatment. Tho' it is certain, he would scarce have carry'd the Matter so far, had it not bin to oblige Madam Grey; for whom he began already to have a most singular Esteem.

The Earl of Warwick once more felt the true Symptoms of Jealousy: He thought himself cur'd of his Passion, he amused himself with another not without some satisfaction; but now found himself more afflicted, and more unfortunate than ever. For supposing no otherwise, than that he had bin slighted by the Countess, because she was engag'd with another Lover, he had a Thousand Chimera's in his Head upon that account, which continually tormented him; What Projects of Vengeance did he not contrive? Sometimes he was for advising the Earl of Devonshire how to deal with his Wife; sometimes for finding out his Rival, to Stab him before the Countess's Face; and at last concluded, that this Attempt had in it something so bold and irregular, that he ought to reproach himself for retaining the least Esteem, in regard of a Person who could expose her self to such an Adventure. The Earl of Pembrook, ambitious to triumph over his Rival, went to give him a Visit; and the Earl of Warwick impatient to see and tell him of the Attempt made upon the Countess of Devonshire, and how it was laid at his door, scarce would give him time to shut the Door of the Closet. 'Tis true, said the Earl of Pembrook, you are charg'd with it, and truly it seems not very extraordinary, if such a Paris as you, should Ravish such a Hellena as she is. If even I lov'd her still, I should be too much concern'd for her Reputation, to expose her thus; but as I don't Love her any more, it seems Extravagant to lay a thing to my Charge, an Action of so nice a Nature. What then can it be, added the Earl of Pembrook, that could raise this Suspicion, of the thing being transacted by your Orders? 'Tis that what I am ignorant of, and what I will endeavour to find out, said the Earl, and you must assist me in it, since I hope, that in confessing your self a Friend to Madam Grey, to such a Degree as you do, you may nevertheless continue in the same Tye of Friendship with me as before. The Earl of Pembrook told him, that he would sooner renounce her than his Friendship; that he must own, that when he first heard the Relation of what had happen'd at Twittenham, he had believ'd it as all the rest did; but that, since he desir'd it, he would endeavour to find it out: Thus they parted like the best Friends in the World.

The End of the First Part.

MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK:
PART II.

IN the mean while the Chevalier de Hereford being sooner recovered of his Illness than of his Passion for the Countess of Devonshire and not able to resist this Despair occasion'd by the news of the Attempt made upon the said Countess, thought of nothing more than how to satisfie his own Revenge under the pretence of espousing the Earl of Devonshire's Quarrel. Don't love any things cruel, Woman's Love nothing, would he say often by himself, the misfortune of my Rivals will he an allaying to my sufferings; but don't fancy you are at liberty to make so unfair a Choice; for I will never suffer the E. of Warwick to enjoy alone the Felicity of pleasing you. What projects did not he frame upon that account! Alas! unfortunate Countess, whose Vertue and Innocence were not sufficient to protect her against the furious assaults of her Husband and her Adversary: The more she was beloved, the more she was reputed gui••y, and the more they set their Engines at work against her. The Earl of Devonshire and the Chevalier de Hereford going together to Twhittenham upon their Approach to that Seat, where the Countess was, were seized with so furious a Resentment, that to calm their spirits they thought it necessary to stop for some time in a little Wood: It being after Sun set, and pretty cool, they alighted and seated themselves under the Trees, after a few minutes silence the Earl addressed himself thus to the Chevalier: I hope you will now no more oppose my just resentment and vengeance, I hope I may now without injustice Cloister up for ever this unfaithful Woman, and treat her in such a manner as the affront she has put upon me deserves. I should not be well pleased, my Lord, reply'd the Chevalier, to see you otherwise disposed than now you are: There is no Den dark enough for your Wife; you must chain her like a little Lioness, and make her taste the sowre sawce. I am afraid of her Mother's tenderness for her, added the Earl, 'Tis not likely, she will suffer her House to be made a Prison for her Daughter; My Lord Stanley will take his Sister's part, and it will be but ill becoming my quality to aim at such a thing without being able to go thro' with it. What you say is very judiciously considered, reply'd the Chevalier, but you must bring them over to your side. What can they say against it when you tell them, that you are inform'd of her ill conduct, that this late attempt makes a great noise at Court, that you are scoff'd at by the Earl of Warwick, and that your Enemies triumph over your Misfortunes. 'Tis an easie matter to find excuses to make up a breach in a Family, but believe me, since it has once made so much noise we will not be over cautious, we will carry away in our turn, and we will be too nimble for her Friends. The Chevalier highly approved his Resolution, and it was pretty late before they left off talking. The Countess of Devonshire used almost every day to walk the same Wood there to condole her disgrace, and to give vent to her Grief; Darkness and Silence seeming to afford her some Comfort in her present Circumstances. Tho' her Mother had restrained her within very narrow bounds, she had nevertheless allow'd her the liberty of withdrawing at some distance from those that attended her; and to tarry by her self as long as she thought convenient. The same chance that had directed the Earl of Devonshire and his Kinsman very near to the place where she was seated, would have it so that they should not see her, and that she at the same time should hear every thing they discoursed together, for tho' they talk'd not very loud, yet being separated from them only by a number of thick Hedges, or Shrubs, or single Trees, they might have easily seen her. It was scarce to be determined, which was the greatest, her despair or surprize, she found her misfortunes to augment by a thousand additional circumstances one after another, she now found to her cost, that it was not enough to be innocent, to avoid being accused or persecuted; she was sensible she should furnish matter sufficient to the world to censure her Conduct, and she was convinced above all, that her Husband was going to take violent resolutions against her, and that the Chevalier de Hereford being exasperated against her, took this opportunity of being revenged for the indifferency she had shewn him, she at last was forced to see that the Earl of Warwick who had drawn upon her so many misfortunes, and who was acquainted better than any other Man in the Court, with what she had been capable of doing rather than fall into his hands, remain'd an idle Spectator on the injustices offered to her.

These various reflections crouding in upon her Spirits, she was so confounded, that at last she resolved to abide the thunderbolt that was striking at her head, and to suffer her self to be carry'd whither the Earl of Devonshire should think convenient: What matters it, said she, whether I die in a Tower or in a Den, whether I am made away by Dagger or Poyson: Let me be carry'd where I will, let my Death or Destiny what it will, my comfort will be in a good conscience, I shall be satisfy'd I have nothing to upbraid my self with, and that I suffer undeservedly these misfortunes that befall me: Is not all this sufficient to depart this life without regret. But soon after considering with her self that her Reputation lay at stake unless she could justifie her self, and that she ought not to neglect any means to maintain her Innocence, she took a firm resolution so to do, looking upon it as a thing altogether worthy her care. 'No, said she, I can't resolve to put Arms into my Enemy's hands; If I make them Masters of my Destiny, I shall never be in a condition to efface those suspicions the world has conceived against me, is it not therefore much better to fly them, and to conceal my self in some place or other. Does not Heaven who thought fit I should over-hear the Discourse betwixt my Husband and his Kinsman, seem to ordain me to make the best use of it? Every moment is now very precious to me, having lost too many already; But which way shall I secure my self? how shall I get out of the Wood without being perceived; Good God, what am I a going to do to get out of one Labyrinth I intangle my self in another.'

She arose trembling all over, not daring to stir from her place, but her Husband and his Kinsman being altogether taken up in Discourse, and the Wind making such a noise among the Leaves, as not to permit them to hear what pass'd at a small distance from them. She at last resolved to go, and so moving gently from the place where she was, made all the haste she could towards Twittenham, but was under no small perplexity, whether she was to take the conveniency of that River, or to shelter her self in one of the adjacent Cottages; but notwithstanding this irresolution and the foresight she had of what danger she intended to avoid, and what hazard she was likely to run, she made all the haste thence that possibly she could. A Lady of her quality so young and so handsome as she to become a fugitive to fly like a Criminal to avoid the rage of her Husband, could not but imagine that such a resolution would meet with a favourable construction in the World, but the dread of a Prison was such to her, that she thought nothing too much to avoid it.

At the same time she heard some noise, and looking about her found them to be two Horses without their Riders, and not doubting but that they belonged to the Earl of Devonshire, and the Chevalier de Hereford, they proved actually the same, and being got loose were going back towards London. She got upon one of them, as slipping the Bridle of the other, for fear of being pursued, she gallop'd away like lightning, to lose no time, being in a deadly fear, and frightned at every thing she saw, being a good Horsewoman made a shirt to get to London sometime before day breaking, and alighting from her Horse (which she let loose) went to one that had been her Nurse, but was now a rich Citizen in London, one whom she knew to be very faithful and absolutely devoted to her service. However for fear of being discovered, she got her immediately to buy a Suit of Mens Clothes, which she wore, and hid her long hair under a Cap, Perriwigs being not in use in those days. She appear'd so very handsome and well shaped that every body that saw her was struck with admiration; for she carry'd much of Majesty in her whole Body, in her Deportment appear'd a certain mixture of Haughtiness and sweetness; and in her Eyes an uncommon lustre and vivacity of Spirit; and this Disguise seem'd to be so natural in her that all the World might have been deceived in it Notwithstanding all this, fearing least this might not prove a sufficient security against the vigilance of the Earl of Devonshire, she told her Nurse what apprehensions she lay under, and the whole cause thereof; hereupon it was agreed betwixt them, she should write to one Madam Digby her friend, who lived in the Country, to let her know she intended to send her Son to her House, because he had been engaged in a Quarrel, desiring she would give him a kind reception till the matter could be made up. She having never seen this Son, it was an easie matter to impose another upon her in his stead, so my Lady Devonshire left London for fear of being seen by some Persons, from whom she would carefully hide her self; for that end she took no body along with her, except an old trusty Servant of her Nurse's, who having brought her to Madam Digby's House, and so returned to London; but before we speak of her reception we must return to Thwittenham.

My Lady Devonshire being accustomed to pass many hours together near a Brook, which run cross the Wood, 'twas very late before her family began to wonder at her stay, so that nothing but the fear they conceived of her being seized with a sudden illness made them go in search after her; they were not a little surprized when they met there with the Earl of Devonshire and his Kinsman, who ask'd them whether they had not seen their Horses, and commanded them to look after them, whilst some obeyed their orders, the rest run through all the places of the Wood, whether the Countess used to retire most frequently, but in vain, she was gone, as I told you just now; and the Horse whom she had left behind, finding himself without a Bridle was run away. The Earl of Devonshire knew nothing of his Wife's having bin that Evening in the Wood, so that when he was told that she was not to be found, and that no body knew what was become of the Horses, he was surprized to the highest degree, and it came immediately into his head, that the thing was not an effect of Chance, but of her own choice, and that she was more concern'd in it than any body else. He discovered his Sentiments to the Chevalier, who was not of his opinion, but said, She might perhaps be gone back alone to the House, that their best way was to go thither, since if they had a mind to pursue her, they had no Horses, so that he judged they could do no better than to go thither to be better inform'd concerning the whole matter.

This being the first time the Earl of Devonshire and the Chevalier came to Thwittenham after what had happened upon the River, every thing look'd but with an indifferent aspect there, my Lady Anglesey dreading her Husband's Anger in behalf of her Daughter, sent her one of her Women to advise her not to stir out of her Chamber till she had sounded the Disposition of the Earl. But the Person she had sent soon return'd, and whispered her in the Ear, that she was not there, nor to be found any where, having bin in the same Wood at the same time the Earl was there.

This News proved the cause of fresh inquietudes, and dreading all the sinister Events for her Daughter she could think of, she changed colour several times, and what pains she took to conceal the disturbance of her mind, served only to discover it. The Earl of Devonshire and the Chevalier de Hereford went not without their share in these troubles. The last ask'd how the Countess did, and whether she might be seen without incommoding her? At these words, my Lady Anglesey no longer able to keep silence: 'Oh! my Lord, said she to her Son in law, you know better than any body else what is become of your Wife, I am not ignorant that you met with her, because she comes not again, what dreadful things have you told her; you see she is not come back you don't do justice either to her Vertue or Merits.' The Earl turning coldly towards her, told her only in a few words, 'That had he met with the Countess they should have come home together; that he was very uneasie at her absence, and that he beg'd of her to let her be looked after, and that he might go away with the rest.' So leaving the Room he gave orders to hasten to the Wood with lighted Flambeaux. This happened very well for the Countess of Devonshire, who whilst they spent their time in searching for her in the Wood, had leisure given her to secure her self. After a long search, at last word was brought to the Earl of Devonshire, that certain fresh prints of a Horse's Hoof being traced in the more unfrequented parts of the Wood, it was likely the Countess had taken that way in her flight. The Earl and the Chevalier approving their opinions, resolved to follow her themselves, being unwilling to entrust any other.

The Tract they follow'd brought them to a steep Hill, where seeing no more signs of a Horse's Hoof, and it being now day-break they alighted and seated themselves near a Rivulet, soon after they espied the Chavalier de Hereford's Horse running along full speed without Saddle or Bridle, so that the Chevalier who had not shaken off his passion for the fair Countess thought he should have dy'd for her. ''Tis no otherwise, my Lord, cry'd he, your Lady has laid violent hands upon her self on this Hill, I just now have found out the whole mystery of it, she did over-hear our Discourse in the Wood, and dreading your Revenge took the opportunity of saving her self upon my Horse. Doubtless she let him run where he would, for all her aim being to secure her self by flight she did not care whither. Alas! he has carried her into this Desart, and thrown her out of the Saddle down one of the Precipices, you see not far from hence.'

Tho' you might have read grief in his Face, the Earl was so intent upon what he said, that he little minded it. All Circumstances seem to concur to perswade me, what you say, to be true, reply'd he, but there are certain things that must not be divulged without an absolute 'certainty, this is one of that kind; If I should tell them my Wife lost her Life in such a manner as you tell me, I know not but that the World may have malice enough to suspect me to be the Author of it. And if your Conjectures should prove false, if she is alive and appears again, I shall be ridiculed beyond what a man is able to bear; 'Tis therefore my advice that after we have try'd all means to find her out, to retire to a certain old Seat I have in the midst of a Wood 'till we hear further how matters go.'

The Chevalier approving of this Proposition, they continued to search in all the adjacent places, but finding all their Endeavours to prove in vain, went to a Village beyond the Hills, when coming to a little House with those that attended them, they dispatch'd some to London and to several other places to go in quest of the Countess.

This done the Earl and the Chevalier remounted their Horses, and as they were going along spoke not so much as one word to one another; their hearts being so full that they did not know where to begin; The Earl feared (if you will believe him) that his Wife had kill'd her self; and the Chevalier dreaded it unto such a degree, he had all the reason in the world to be convinced that he was not cured of his Passion, as he had flattered himself he was. Jealousy and Hatred had possessed the Earls mind, Love and Fear were the predominant Passions in that of the Chevalier: 'Is it possible, said he, you should lose the most amiable person in the world, that you should know she is dead, and should carry it off with so much Tranquility? Who told you, reply'd the Earl, that I have lost her, and that I enjoy so much Tranquillity? I am the main Person in this Scene, the part I am to act in it is so melancholy that it is not to be done indifferently: This is one of those kind of Afflictions which ought to be closed up within the inmost recesses of our Heart, without exposing them to publick view.' 'You might give me a share in your Misfortunes, said the Chevalier, our Friendship is such as not to allow of such a Reserve, and I can't but be offended thereat. I know not what your Opinion is, reply'd the Earl coldly; but this I know, that you are disposed to accuse me unjustly.' He little dream't that the Chevalier cou'd have given him sufficient Reasons, why he was more nearly concern'd in the Matter than himself; but this had more consideration than to make him his Confidant in this Case; his business being at this time to conceal from him, the true Condition of his Heart.

At last they came to the Earls House in the Wood; a House built in the most unaccessible place of a Forest, so that they wanted a Guide to conduct them thither; the Earl having been there but once before in all his life-time. The Situation and Appearance of this old House was such, that it seem'd to be chosen on purpose for a Seat and Nursery of Melancholy.

Whilst they spent their time in this dismal Place, the Earl of Anglesey and his Lady were ready to run Distracted at Twittenham, at the uncertainty they lay under of what was become of their Daughter; and the more they loved her, the more ingenious were they to torment themselves. The Earl of Devonshire, whose Return they expected, not without good Reason, had taken another way with his Friend, whence they conjectured that his Conscience accused him of some ill action done by him to his Wife, and that therefore he would not abide the sight of them. They caused search to be made for her in all Corners; and my Lady Anglesey finding herself every where uneasie, left the Country and went to London; but cou'd not leave her anxious Thoughts behind her.

'Twas next to an impossibility, that an Accident wherein so many Persons of the first Quality were concern'd, shou'd not be known at Court. The King was soon acquainted that the Countess cou'd not be found, and that her Husband lay under a suspicion of having play'd her some ill Game: He compassionated heartily the Misfortune of so lovely a Person, and the Earl of Warwick happening to come into his Closet at that very moment, whilst he was reflecting upon this odd Accident, he told him: My Lord, What have you not to answer for, on account of my Lady Devonshire? 'tis believ'd she is Dead, and that your extravagant Attempt to carry her away, has been the occasion of it. The Earl was so surpriz'd thereat, as not to be able to give an Answer, for some time; all the Merits and Charms of the Countess appear'd again so fresh in their utmost lustre to his Mind; that the same Fires, which was thought to have extinguish'd, was rekindled at once. Don't imagine Sir, said he, that the Change you observe in my Face, or the Confusion you see me in, is owing to any thing I have to reproach myself on account of what your Majesty told me; I never in my Life made the least attempt of carrying away the Countess; nay, I resented to the very Heart, the weakness I found she was guilty of upon this Occasion for another Person but myself; and I actually flattered myself, that this consideration cured me of my Passion for her; but, Sir, I am sensible of all the effects of her Charms by that direful Fear I am in, never to see her again; 'tis this that puts me into the most deplorable Condition in the World. His Eyes then were covered with Tears, which the King observing, told him, Warwick you cry! No Sir, reply'd the Earl, I am not guilty of so much weakness. Oh, cry on! cry on! said he, 'tis no Crime in a Lover that is cherish'd by his Mistress, to bewail her. I never had any occasion to consider her upon that Point, continued the Earl, for she always slighted, or at least shew'd an indifferency for me, which made me engage in another Amour, and thought I had almost razed her out of my Heart; but I must confess to your Majesty, that the uncertainty of her Destiny puts me into such a degree of Despair, I am not able to overcome. Be it as it will, answer'd the King, whether you did intend to carry her away or whether you have been otherwise the cause of her Ruin, I am concern'd for you; and the best thing you can do, is to wean yourself of your Passion? The Earl answered only with a deep Reverence, I knowing it to be a thing he shou'd find very difficult to encompass; and his Heart being quite overcome with Grief, took his leave as soon as possibly he cou'd.

As he was passing thro' the Privy Garden, next adjacent to the Court, he meets the Earl of Pembrock in a shady dark Walk; and hoping to find some Consolation in discoursing his Friend upon this Subject matter; he accosted him with so melancholy an Air; that the other immediately perceived he had something of ill News to bring, that very near concern'd him. Alas! My Lord, said the Earl of Warwick, I shall see her no more. Whom do you speak of, reply'd the Earl of Pembrock interrupting him? I can speak of no body but of her, continu'd the Earl of Warwick, could there have been any Misfortune like that of losing her? The Earl of Pembrock not apprehending what Person he meant, to make him unfold the riddle told him, I understand you, your young Mistress is a going to leave the Court in order to be marry'd, and you are afflicted at this Separation. Would it please Heaven! cry'd my Lord, I had no other occasion of Grief, you shou'd see me bear that with a great deal of courage; but the Case is quite different, in respect of the Countess of Devonshire, 'tis she! 'tis she! whose Destiny I lament; her Husband having carry'd her away from her Father's House, no body knows whether; it being the general opinion, that he has made her a sacrifice to his Jealousie; and what is more, I must bear the Blame, as if I had been the occasion of it; but 'tis not the publick Rumour, but the loss of her Person in particular that affects me. Don't you recal to Mind, my Lord, continued he, that Majestick Air, that noble and engaging Deportment, those Charms which made her to be admired and respected by all the World; with all these Perfections, in the midst of her Native Country nay, of her own Family, there is no body appears in behalf of this poor Lady: This Bugbear (like me) of a Husband, keeps all her Friends in awe, and his Cruelties gain a dreadful Respect among them. Well, I will be then the Man, who by myself will venture at her Protection; but I will do it to such a purpose, that the Earl of Devonshire and all his adherents shall have occasion to remember me. He had scarce said these Words, but quite transported with Choler, and not remembring that he intended to consult with the Earl of Pembroke upon the Matter, he did fly away like Lightning. The Earl of Pembroke was not dissatisfy'd thereat, since it saved him the trouble of counterfeiting and restraining his true Thoughts before him.

As soon as the Earl of Warwick was got out of fight, he lay down under a Tree to indulge his melancholy Thoughts. 'Tis true, he had sufficient cause of Affliction, since it was his too violent, and indiscreet Passion that had proved the Cause of the loss of the Repose, if not the Life of the Countess. He fetch'd very deep sighs, and shutting his Eyes, remain'd immoveable like one struck with Death. His new Friendship with Madam Gray, received such a check by the remembrance of the high Deserts of the Countess of Devonshire, by the high esteem he had of her Person, and by that Compassion he felt within himself, for her Misfortunes, that he wish'd a thousand times that the Period of his Life was at hand, to justifie by a solemn and sincere declaration, the Innocence of the opprest Lady: Yes (said he) I will publish to the World the Extravagancies I have comitted, I will expose myself to the fury of her Husband, to the King's Indignation, to the Violence of his Mistress and the Revenge of the Earl of Warwick: I wou'd be hated by all the World, lose all my Friends and Fortune, and after all this, I own myself not sufficently punish'd.

He was tormenting himself in this manner, heaping Reproaches upon Reproaches, when he found himself interrupted by Madam Gray. The King had told her with what trouble the Earl of Warwick had receiv'd the News of the loss of my Lady Devonshire, which she embraced with an excess of Joy, that she was scarce able to contain her self. She took a solitary Walk, the better to enjoy the pleasure of seeing herself revenged; and she fancied she saw her mortal Enemy in this miserable Condition before her Eyes, when espying the Earl of Pembroke the Instrument of her Vengeance against the Earl of Warwick; she made up towards him with a gay Countenance; We are at last Victorious, my Lord, cry'd she, You will say the Earl of Warwick is likely to pay very dear for the Evils he intended against me, when I tell you with what trouble and vexation of Mind, he received the News of the Countess of Devonshire's Absence, from the King and that it was suppos'd, her Husband had offer'd some violence to her; you may judge of my Satisfaction.

The Earl of Pembrock opening his Eyes, and hearing her Discourse with the utmost impatience; May I presume to tell you, Madam, reply'd he, you are too full of Revenge; alas! what Crime has she committed against me? How? return'd she, is it not a Crime to have been belov'd by the King? And is it not another to love the Earl of Warwick? This perfidious Man, who ow'd me so many Obligations, not only in regard of his constant Profession of Kindness to the House of Lunenburgh, from which my Mother is descended, but also of the many good Offices I have endeavoured to do him, has contrived my Ruin. You know too well what ridiculous Stories he has told of me to the King; these are unpardonable Things, and I profess to you, that all he suffers, and whatever may happen to the Countess, is too little to satisfie my Revenge. Well, cry'd the Earl of Pembrock, if you want another Victim to allay your Anger, make use of me, Madam; I desire Death at your Hands, as the only good that can befal me; don't think me less guilty than the Earl of Warwick, I love the Countess of Devonshire, better than the Earl of Warwick, and yet have condescended to be the Instrument of your Hatred, both against her and my Rival, what horrour don't I feel within my Breast; for having been guilty of such a Crime, which I committed without the least Reluctancy; my Resentment caused by her indifferency towards me, Jealousie which tormented me, and in short, the power of her Charms are the cause of my present Misfortune. If my Grief does not rob me suddenly of my Life, I intend to make known all over the World, how the whole Matter was concerted.

Madam Gray hearkned to the Earl of Pembrook's Discourse with so much surprize, that she cou'd scarce imagine what she heard to be real; she was a considerable time before she cou'd speak a Word; but at last broke out into most violent Reproaches and Threats. He heard her patiently, without being in the least moved thereat, without making the least Excuse, or telling her any thing to induce her to forget what he had said. Quite overcome with Spite and Rage, she was a going to leave him, but considering with herself, that if he shou'd disclose the Matter to the Earl of Warwick, she might be brought in for her share, in raising the Report about the Attempt made upon the Countess of Devonshire; and tho' she judg'd herself so well fix'd in the King's Affection, that it wou'd prove a hard task for any body to make him conceive the least Prejudice against her; yet knowing what an Influence the Earl of Warwick had upon his Majesty, she thought it the safest way not to put it to a hazard: So assuming a more gentle Air, she desir'd the Earl of Pembrook to conceal the Matter at least for some Days longer. You run no hazard in so doing (said she) and I shall be obliged to you; you will have time enough to speak in behalf of your so much admired Countess. He soon found she was touch•d to the quick, since notwithstanding her resentment and haughtiness, she could condescend so far as to make a Request to him. He to•d her, that in the Condition he now was in, he was so far from being capable of concealing it, that he would rather chuse to withdraw into the Country, than make her a Promise he might be apt to break; and that if she wou'd get but the King's leave, he wou'd go to retire from all the World, at one of his Country Seats.

Madam Gray well satisfy'd with this Expedient, engaged to speak to the King about it; which she did accordingly, but found him not much disposed to grant it. You see, said he, unto what a melancholy state the Earl of Warwick is reduced; the Report of my Lady Devonshire's Death having almost bereaved him of his Senses, he is not in a Condition to attend me often, and I hoped that the Earl of Pembrook wou'd supply his Place till his Recovery. Madam Gray told him she had perceived the Earl of Pembrook to be out of order for several Days last past; that the change of the Air would much contribute to the Recovery of his Health, and consequently to his sudden return to Court: In short, she being resolv'd it shou'd be so, the King at last granted her Desire. The young Widow was very diligent in dispatching the Earl for the Country; and told him at parting, she wou'd not have him come back, till his Head was quite clear of his Chimeras, and that she in the mean time wou'd take care of his Fortune. Act in that as you please Madam, said he coldly, I am so far from any ambitious Designs, that I desire nothing but Death, and I shou'd think myself much more obliged to you if you wou'd hasten it, than let me linger away in the most unhappy Life upon Earth. Am I the occasion of it? reply'd she, with some Impatience; but I will pardon you in spite of yourself; I look upon you as one that having lost his Senses, is not Master of his own Affections: go fetch them where you left them, and return in such a Condition as may engage me to pardon what is past. The Earl of Pembrook took his leave without answering one word, not being able to forgive her what she had made him do against the poor Countess of Devonshire.

He was no sooner gone, but Madam Gray began to be sensible (at least more than ever she had been before) that the Earl was not indifferent to her; she was afraid that instead of shaking off his Spleen in the Country, he might rather contract such a Habit as might endanger his Health. He is going (said she) to some place or other, remote from all the World, to bury himself in his Thoughts of the Countess of Devonshire; 'twill be a hard matter to get her out of his Head; and so he will fall into some Distemper, nay, for what I know it may cost him his Life; alas! perhaps he may die.

These Reflexions caused no small Symptoms of Pain and Grief in her, being surprized to feel within herself such tender Inclinations for the Earl; and she wou'd have reproach'd herself upon that Head, had not the consideration of making her Fortunes over ballanc'd the rest, for the Widow of a private Gentleman, to be married to a Person of 〈◊〉 high a Rank in the Kingdom.

Disturbed with these Reflexions, she sends for her Brother, the Earl Rivers, one of the most accomplish'd Lords at Court, and in great favour with the King: As he began to be considered already, as one of the King's growing Favourites, who had bestow'd great Favours upon him, this occasioned such a jealousie in the Earl of Warwick, that they were upon the point once of deciding their Quarrel by a Duel, had they not been prevented by the King's Authority; who, to stop their Rage, had prescribed them certain Rules, which neither of them was to Transgress, on pain of his Displeasure; notwithstanding which, there remain'd a certain Grudge betwixt them; which being carefully maintain'd by Madam Gray, they were become irreconcilable Enemies: 'Twas upon this consideration, she judged, she could not put the Earl of Pembrook into surer hands than his, to make him avoid all manner of Correspondence with the Earl of Warwick.

So soon as he was come into her Chamber, she told him she intended to give him an opportunity of putting an Obligation upon her: That the Earl of Pembrook being seized with a very deep Melancholy, was a going to retire to some solitary place; where instead of diminishing, he wou'd encrease his Spleen; that she being his Friend, desired him to carry the Earl to his fine Seat call'd Grafton, and to stay with him there for some time. You will perhaps tell me, continu'd she, you can't be absent from Court without great Prejudice to yourself, since in so doing you will leave the Earl of Warwick, as it were, absolute Master of the Field of Battel; but rely upon my Words, Brother, I will talk of you so frequently to the King, that upon your return out of the Country, you shall find your Affairs in a better conditi- than when you left them.

There needed no more to engage the Earl Rivers to act as Madam Gray had desired. He told her, this opportunity of obliging her he look'd upon as too precious not to embrace it; that he wou'd go immediately to the Earl of Pembrook, and certainly persuade him rather to chuse Grafton House, than any other, for his Place of Retirement.

Accordingly he went to him, when he was just upon his Departure: They being very intimate Friends, and the Earl Rivers pretending he knew nothing of his intended Journey, told him he came to take his leave of him, because he intended to go the next day to Grafton House. Are you engaged, reply'd the Earl of Pembroke, in some Horse-match or other, to be run there? No, said he, I go only to rest my self of the fatigues of the Court: If you have so much friendship as to go along with me thither, I will think my self obliged to you as long as I live. I am a going, reply'd the Earl, with a melancholy Air, a great way further off, I have some pressing reasons which make me fly that which would prove a great dissatisfaction to me. The Earl Rivers appearing as if he were surprized at his Resolution, urged the matter so successfully to him, that he agreed to go along with him; so they went out of London the next day.

They needed not have taken so much precaution, there being but little probability of the Earl of Pembroke's meeting with the Earl of Warwick, for each of them had Clostred themselves up to lament the Death, or at least the loss of the Countess of Devonshire. She, as I told you before, was gone to Madam Digby's, where she was entertain'd with all imaginable Civility. 'Tis true, under the Disguise she had taken, she pass'd there but for a person of an indifferent condition; but notwithstanding this, her Air and Deportment gain'd her much respect from all that beheld her. She had assumed the name of Jamy, the better to conceal her Sex, and Madam Digby had two Sons, and a very handsome Niece, a Woman of a great deal of sense, sweet in Conversation, very serious, and something addicted to Melancholy. Her name was Leonore, and Madam Digby being resolved to make a match betwixt her and her Eldest Son, who was a short, ill favour'd and ill-temper'd Piece, used to keep Leonore from all Conversation, for fear lest Leonore, in case she should see others more amiable than her Son, she might take an aversion both to his Person and the intended Match. Leonore thus spent the best of her days within the walls of her Aunts House, when my Lady Devonshire came thither, who in this Disguise appear'd so Graceful as if it had bin natural to her, so that Leonore from the first moment she saw her was captivated to such a degree, that her eyes, who were not acquainted with any thing else but the sight of her ugly Cousins, were now continually employ'd upon Jamy; and she being a Woman of great Vivacity of Wit, her Conversation with Jamy was so pleasant, as by degrees inspired her with that tenderness she did neither foresee, nor was able to overcome.

For, besides that they were both of the same Sex, the Countess of Devonshire had such weighty reasons to have an abhorrence for Love, that even the most pleasing Diversions, that had the least relation to that Passion, could not be acceptable to her. She was quite overwhelm'd with her misfortunes, under the greatest uncertainty how to manage her self for the future, exasperated against the Earl of Warwick, irreconcilable to her Spouse and the Chevalier de Hereford, very uneasie on account of the suspicions her Family might conceive against her, and the Reports that were likely to be spread abroad upon her account: All these were matters of such consequence, as to employ all her thoughts, which would make her spend some times a whole night in one of the most solitary places of the Park belonging to the House. The only thing she took some delight in to divert her Melancholy, was to be instructed in the Exercise of Arms, wherein she improved so well, that she would match the best Man in shooting, and Madam Digby keeping a Fencing Master in the House to teach her two Sons, Jamy by his Instructions in a little time became as formidable for his Arm as for his Eyes.

Leonore was surprized at the progress Jamy had made in this sort of Exercise, and whereas before she was never known to have taken any notice of her Cousin, when he was at this Exercise (because he made so miserable a figure) now since the arrival of Jamy, she took so much delight in being there, that young Digby could not but take some notice of it. 'Tis true he did not know unto what to attribute this Alteration, but after having seriously reflected upon the matter, apply'd the reason thereof to his own advantage: Flush'd with these hopes, he desires Jamy to compose a Song or two in praise of his fair Cousin, but James excusing himself with some carelesness, Digby was so vex'd thereat, that he got Jamy by the Throat. Leonore hearing the noise, came in to see what was the matter, and without hesitating upon the point, pulls her Cousin by the Hair, till he was glad to let Jamy alone. Ingrateful Woman, cry'd the little Cousin, did you know the occasion of our Quarrel, you would be as much vex'd at it as I am; I desir'd him to compose me some Verses I intended to present you with, but he told me with a scornful look he could not make Verses at command, unless it were for himself. Leonore casting a scornful look upon her Counsin, went away without saying one word, to the Park, in that solitary place to bewail her misfortune.

Certain it is, that since the arrival of Jamy, she had had but little Repose. At the first beginning she imbraced this growing tenderness only as a means to counterpoise her aversion to that Monster, they had design'd her for a Husband; but it was not long before she was convinced to her cost, that Love is no less pernicious than hatred; she then began to open her eyes, and duly reflecting upon her present Circumstances, found Love so dreadful a Guest, as made her sigh and condole her self without intermission.

She was no sooner got to the further end of a thick and dark Wood, but seating her self near a little Brook, she ruminated a considerable time upon her present condition; at last, What dost thou mean, unfortunate Leonore? said she to her self; is it possible thou should'st be so far an Enemy to thy self, as to have a particular regard to a young man so much below thee? what is it thou proposest, since he can't be thy Husband? But why? continued she, I have Riches enough, and not Ambition, there is no place upon Earth, where I could not live happily with him; and no doubt but he will think it the greatest good fortune that could befall him, to marry me. She framed a thousand other pleasing Projects, which vanishing as soon as they came, and she thus remaining in suspence betwixt hope and fear, served only to augment her affliction, when she heard on a sudden a noise near her. For fear of being over heard by her Aunt, or young Digby, she arose immediately, and casting her Eyes on all sides, found it was Jamy, who was going at a further distance as soon as he saw her.

She thought it was out of Respect; but being no more Mistress of her own heart, she call'd and made a sign to him, to draw nearer. 'Tis but reasonable, said she smilingly, I should chide you, for having refused to oblige my Cousin with a few Verses intended for me. I should have made but a very ill piece of work of it, reply'd he, my thoughts are too much taken up, to be employ'd in a thing of this nature. Say rather, added she, you are so deeply engaged in a secret passion, as not to permit you to think of any other Object but what you love. He did not return an Answer immediately, and the impatient Leonore continued her Discourse; Your silence, said she, is easie to be understood: Oh! Jamy you are in Love, I suppose it is with the same person for which you fought a Duel in London, 'tis she that has given us the opportunity of seeing you here; what a Fatality is this! Jamy having recovered himself, told her, Were you acquainted with the reasons I have of complaining of my misfortunes, you would not believe me to be capable of a Passion to which I was always a stranger. The very name of Love is terrible to me. How is it possible, reply'd she, you should hate to so excessive a degree, what you don't know? 'tis certain you have bin in Love, but are dissatisfied: But supposing you have proved unfortunate at one time, that ought not to check you for ever. I have something of skill in Physiognomy and Astronomy; I foresee every thing will prove successful to you; Love, and you shall be beloved.

Jamy much surprized at what he heard; Fair Leonore, said he, I am not capable of following your counsel; I must employ all my thoughts upon my present condition, which is deplorable, and my temper is such, that I can't submit to it; I must either die, or see my Destiny changed. I find, said she, you still resent the ill Treatment you received of my Cousin, but you must excuse him, considering he has sufficient reason to be jealous of you. Of me, reply'd Jamy! alas! for what reason? He has observed, continued she, not without some confusion, that I always look at you with pleasure, that I can't forbear to speak in your praise, and he perceives perhaps, that my thoughts in respect to you, even exceed my words.

Alas, Jamy! and have not you perceived that as well as he? I understand a Jest, answered he, you intend to make your self merry at my cost; but provided it be the least satisfaction to you, I am very willing to take it; however don't think my complaisance is unlimited, for it is no less true, that were it possible to suppose you could stoop so low as to intend to marry me, my present condition is such that I should not enjoy the fruits of your Goodness. How, cry'd Leonore with much impatience, and would you not marry me? Would you refuse to marry your Fortune? I should but ill repay to Madam Digby, the Civilities I receive in her House, reply•d hee But you wou'd he at least revenged of her Sex, said she: But that way is not suitable to my present Station, continued he, I am resolved first to resettle my mind, before I entertain any thoughts of Marriage. But I will make you for ever, said she, I have a great Fortune at my Command, and am willing to share it with you: Your Relations will be very angry at it, reply'd he; I won't see the face of any of them, return'd she; We will go and live in the most Delight some Place of all Europe; we will set up a kind of a Hermitage in some delicious Valley, where the clearest Springs slide gently along among the Trees; we will have Books, we will have Musical Instruments, good Gardens, few Domesticks, and plain but clean and near Furniture; thus remote from the noise of the World, our best days will pass away like a Dream. All what you tell me is no more than such, answered Jamy, with a smile; and I little thought that so amiable a young Lady as you had the Gift of building Castles in the air. Oh! cease cruel man, return'd she, to turn into ridicule a tender Passion, you ought to embrace with respect; you are too sensible of the Sentiments and Frailties of my tender Heart; tho' I have this to say for myself, that I have omitted nothing that might conduce to check my Passion; that all this has served only to encrease my Sufferings; and your Idea, which is never absent from my Mind, has always got the upper hand over my most firm, and most serious Resolutions. I am not sensible of what I have done, said he, whatever it was, it was against my Will: I must tell you once more, Leonora, you and I were not made for one another.

This poor young Lady quite overwhelm'd with Grief and Shame, fell upon the Ground without Sense or Motion; which as it caused no less the trouble than pity of Jamy, he did all he cou'd to bring her to herself again. Alas! said he, What unfortunate Planet was I born under? see love will not cease to persecute me! I hoped to have sheltered myself against its Force in this Solitude; and Fate will have it so, that this charming young Lady shou'd have too tender Sentiments for me, and that I shou'd innocently be accessary to her Misfortuues.

The Water which Jamy threw into Leonore's Face, being taken out of a very cool Spring, she soon recover'd her Senses; Her Eyes, which were scarce half open, discovered the tenderness and Languishment of her Heart; she had leant her Head upon Jamy's Knees; they were both very pensive, and mutually bemoaning their Fate, when alarm'd by the sound of the Hunting-horns and noise of the Dogs, they saw a Stag pursu'd by the Hunters thro' an opening of the Park, running directly to them, where he was soon after run down by the Dogs. The Hounds belonged to the Earl Rivers, who had a Seat not above a few Miles from Madam Digby's; but they kept no correspondence together, there being a great difference betwixt their Ages, and way of living.

The Earl was not a little surprized to see so fair a Lady as Leonore was, in this retired place alone, with one of the hand somest and best shap'd Men in the World, and leaning her head upon him. Leonore got up as fast as she could; but the Earl Rivers, who observed every Motion of hers, follow'd and accosted her, with an Air which discover'd a certain mixture of Fear and Confidence. I have given you some disturbance Madam, said he to her, and that perhaps at the very nick of time, when you were going to take a Sleep; pray bear me no ill will upon that account, for you are reveng'd already; and if I have robb'd you of your Rest for a few moments, I fear I have lost mine for ever. Leonore knew the Earl no more than he did her, but judged him to be a Person of Quality, and upon that score wou'd have receiv'd his Addresses without much Reluctancy, had not Jamy got already the sole Ascendant over her Heart: So looking upon him, said coldly, If you complain no more of me, than I do of you, my Lord, you will have no great occasion to repent of our meeting here; but not to obstruct your freedom, I am going to leave you. She made the best of her way towards their House, which was not far off; but the Earl endeavouring to stop her a little, An Impression made by such a one as you, said he to her, is not easily to be razed out: Alas! I ought not to have look'd at you; but now it is too late, the Venom is taken, and your Absence will augment its Strength. Leonore scarce minded what he said, but went home; and the Earl fearing lest he shou'd disoblige her in following her any farther, came back to his Company, but in so ill a Humour, as is scarce to be imagined. He went to the Place where he left Jamy, with an ••tention to ask him who Leonore was; and to ••form himself, if possibly he cou'd, concerning •is own Condition; but he lost his Labour, for Jamy was very uneasie at the sight of him; and •ho' it seem'd not very probable, that the Coun •ess of Devonshire shou'd be discover'd under such a Disguise, nevertheless she thought it her safest way not to run the risque of it. The Earl Rivers looking about him on all sides, in hopes to see one or other that might tell him what he wanted to know, at last espy'd young Digby: He made up to him as fast as he cou'd, and ask'd him who the young Lady was? Her Name is Leonore, said he to the Earl, she is my Cousin, and will be my Wife before we are a Month older. The Earl Rivers was so far from looking upon him as a formidable Rival, that he pity'd the poor Lady who was to be marry'd to so ill-favour'd a Man.

So home he went, where finding the Earl of Pembrook in his melancholy posture, he blam'd him for his not going along with him a Hunting, and then told him what had happen'd, in relation, especially, to Leonore, Jamy, and Digby. The Earl of Pembrook told him he knew the Mother of young Digby, that he lodged there one time when the King was at Grafton-House; that her Niece might perhaps then not live with her, or that they kept her out of his sight. 'Prudence requires, said the Earl Rivers, to keep her out of the sight of so accomplish'd a Person as you are; and after all, I saw a young Gentleman with her, whom I look upon as a dangerous Companion; and if Madam Digby intends to keep her Nieces Heart entire for her Son, she had better be without such Guests. Perhaps, continu'd the Earl of Pembrook, it was one of her Sons. I can't tell that, reply'd the Earl, but am sure she look'd not with an indifferent eye at him; her Head rested upon his Knees, and she had not power to turn her eyes any other way but upon him: Oh! what wou'd I not give to know the bottom of this whole Intrigue? And what good wou'd it do you, my Lord? said the Earl of Pembrook coldly: Rather say, cry'd the Earl of Rivers, what good wou'd it not do me? Is it possible we shou'd talk a whole hour upon this Subject, and you not perceive all this while, how far my Interest is concern'd in it?' My Lord Pembrook thought it not worth his while to return an Answer, being quite buried in his own melancholy Thoughts.

The Earl Rivers liv'd in hopes, that if he could forbear seeing Leonore for some few Days, her Idea wou'd wear out by degrees; but whenever he went abroad, he cou'd not forbear going within sight of her House, tho' he had no opportunity or pretence of going in. The Earl of Pembrook not shewing himself so complaisant to the reiterated requests of his Friend, as to go along with him thither: Am not I sufficiently plagued with my own Passion, said he, must I be also tormented with yours? Let me go to London, or don't you Love at Grafton. The E. could not forbear smiling at my Lord's abrupt Expressions; but the Idea of Leonore had made too deep an Impression upon his Mind, to be able to shake it off at so easie a rate.

This fair Lady in the mean time, most narrowly watch'd every step Jamy had made; and as this served only to convince her of his Indifferency, so it furnish'd her every day with fresh Matter of Grief and Vexation. What a shame is it, said she, to be in love with a Man so inferiour in Birth to me? nay, to see my self slighted by him, after having declared my Passion to him? All these dismal reflections, enough to humble the most couragious person in the World, at last threw her into a most excessive melancholy. Young Digby, tho' very dull of apprehension, did not fail to observe it, and prompted by his Jealousy, resolved to make Jamy pay for his Mistress's ill humour; 'twas upon that account he would seek frequent quarrels with him, but wanting courage to encounter him himself, he look'd out for a good and trusty hand that might dispatch him. After having well weigh'd the matter for some time, he pitch'd upon his Fencing Master, as the most proper person to second his sinister intentions against Jamy: But he happened to be mistaken in his choice, the Fencing Master was an honest man, and one who had as much kindness for Jamy as if he had been his Son. He did indeed pretend to accept of the Proposition, but it was, because it should not be done by another hand; and so he discovered the whole Plot to Jamy. Alas! cry'd he, full of Grief, what matters it? my Life is not worthy taking care of, tho' I must confess I should be very sorry to find you my Enemy. Let Digby but entrust another with this Murther, and he shall find I will not oppose him. This is the strangest piece of Indifferency that ever I heard of, reply'd the Fencing Master, 'tis impossible for me to see it; I beg you therefore by all that is good, to think of leaving this House, for fear any misfortune should befall you here. Jamy return'd thanks for his kindness and care for him; but nevertheless shew'd so much indisterency in regard to his own person, that the Fencing Master saw himself under a necessity of speaking to Leonore about it; having observed for some time past that she shew'd a particular esteem for him, and that probably it was upon that account young Digby had framed, his design against Jamy's Life. He gave her a full account of the matter, whereat she was alarm'd to the highest degree; and tho' she had put the utmost violences upon her self to avoid him, and shew him all possible marks of indifferency, this news was sufficient to engage her to confer with him upon that Subject.

She chose for this purpose the same Wood where she had discovered her Passion; and address'd her self to him with an air, that shew'd at least as much confusion and grief as in her first Discovery:

'Your Deportment towards me for some time past, said she, might easily dispense me from concerning my self for your Interest, could I dispense with my self; But the same Fatality that has made me sensible of your Deserts, will not allow me to be acquainted with the danger you are in, without trembling at the very thoughts thereof: Yes, Jamy, your Life is dear to me, in spite of all your Ingratitude; therefore take heed, secure y•our self against the Attempts of the Pe•fidious Digby. This Monster thinks it not sufficient to importune me with his nauseous Passion, but also intends to make you a Sacrifice, if possible, to his Jealousy, which prompts him to imagin that you have a real Passion for me. I don't merit that obliging care you take for me, fair Leonore, reply'd Jamy; you must consider me as an unfortunate Person, who is not in a condition to return your Obligations, and therefore you ought to see me perish without afflicting your self. And why to see you perish Jamy, said she? Is it impossible for you to embrace the Offer I made you? Fly from this House, but permit me to be a sharer in your Flight. Are not your Enemies mine also? Let us therefore retire to some Country or other, such as you like best; I shall be always contented as long as I am with you.'

Jamy seeing himself thus put to it, beyond whatever he had been before, told her with a deep sigh: 'You don't know me well enough, fair Leonore, to declare your self thus favourably in my behalf; said he, I am engaged by such strict tyes, that nothing in the world can break them. How! then are you marry'd! cry'd she, then I have nothing to hope for; why would not you let me know the Secret you disclose now, some time ago? perhaps the consideration of the impossibility of attaining to what I desired might have proved a good Remedy to accelerate my Cure.' Then loading him with a thousand Reproaches, took from that instant a Resolution of procuring her own death; a thing not very uncommon among the English▪ However she did not think fit to kill her self with her own hands, for fear the cause of so desperate a resolution might be enquired into and discovered to the World; but she took a Dose of a lingring Poyson, the first effects whereof, tho' they reduced her to a languishing state, yet made no considerable diminution in her Charms.

All this while the Countess of Devonshire expected with much impatience some alteration in her affairs, being weary of living thus in disguise at Madam Digby's under the Name of Jamy. Her Nurse gave her from time to time an account of what pass'd in relation to her self; what noise her absence made at London, and what pains the Earl of Devonshire took to find her out. For, tho' he did come no more to Court, he had so vast an acquaintance that he knew every thing that pass'd, and not only this, he had sent Spies also into all the Counties of the Kingdom to find her out, so that she had all the reason in the world to be upon her Guard. This reason alone was sufficient to make her continue in a place where Leonore's Love, and Mr. Digby's hatred were equally troublesome to her; tho' to speak the truth there was another Cause besides this of her present affliction, viz. the remembrance of the Earl of Warwick; whene'er she took a walk in the shady Wood, she fancied she saw and heard him in his whole shape, mien, nay, even the sound of his Voice, his engaging Air, and that Grandeur wherein he surpassed all others. All these imaginations served only to raise new impressions, which were supported and nourished by the Solitude of the Place. She would spend whole days in some of the darkest Walks to reproach him with his Ingratitude, just as if he had bin near enough to hear her; a convincing proof to her self, that she retained so strong an inclination for him, as she was not able to Master; which served only to add to her Torments, and to turn her Anger at last against her self.

The Earl Rivers's condition was no less unfortunate; for the obstacles he met with of seeing Leonore rendring her more precious in his Eyes, he was talking day and night of her to the Earl of Pembroke, who instead of giving him the least answer to that point, extoll'd the Merits and Innocence of the Countess of Devonshire; and as nothing could be more disagreeable to him, he did all he could to divert him from that Discourse; and when his Passion would not suffer him any longer to pursue that method, he kept a long and profound silence, to the no small vexation of the Earl of Pembroke. I should be glad to know, said he, with some impatience, what your Design was in bringing me hither? Did you imagine I came to this place, to be your Confident in your fantastical Intrigues, when at the same time you will not give me leave to make my Complaints, in hopes of meeting with some Comfort in my Friend? Truly, answered the Earl Rivers, mine is no Chimera, Leonore is no Spectre to frighten one; and considering every thing, I have more reason on my side than you have; for my Lady Devonshire loves no Body, or if she does, 'tis certain it is the Earl of Warwick; such a Rival as he is not so soon to be thrown out of the Saddle; you lose both your time and your labour; and is not this next door to a madness? In this manner they used often times to pass away the time together; but at last the Earl Rivers knowing that he should stand in need of the Earl of Pembroke's assistance, began to condole his Passion; and at the same time forgot not to conjure him to carry him to Madam Digby's, that he might speak to Leonore, and inform himself concerning Jamy, whom he look'd upon as a dangerous Rival.

His Importunities and Complaisance at last engaged the Earl of Pembroke to conduct him to Madam Digby's, in hopes to meet with an opportunity of entertaining Leonore in private. The Earl Rivers desirous to know how matters stood with his Mistress before he went thither himself, appointed a place at a small distance thence in a Wood, where to wait for his return. At parting he told him, Am not I a patient Lover? the Repose of my Life depends on the success of your Conversation: If I meet with a repulse, I am lost for ever. 'This is a violent Passion indeed, answered the Earl of Pembroke; considering how little hopes you have. Why will you talk at that rate? said the Earl of Rivers: Are not you sufficiently convinced by your own experience, that one may love without hopes? and may not I flatter my self with more hopes than you in regard to my Lady Devonshire? she treats you with the utmost rigour, she is a marry'd Lady, and you know she prefers the Earl of Warwick to you.' He was so far touch'd to the quick by what he heard his Friend say, that he had almost taken a resolution of not stirring any further for that time. I think, said he, you make it your sport to seek my destruction; What have I done, you should revive in my head these melancholy Considerations? He was running on thus, till the Earl Rivers put a stop to his Complaints by entreating him without intermission to go to Madam Digby's. He was no sooner entred the House, but found the old Lady in the greatest confusion imaginable, by reason of the miserable state Leonore was reduced to, for the Poyson she had taken answered its operation so effectually, that her Life was despaired of. Seeing the whole House in tears, he ask'd Madam Digby the cause of it? she told him she believed her Niece would not live two hours longer, because she would not take the least thing to forward the Cure of her Disease; and that none of the ablest Physicians could guess at the true cause of it.

The Earl of Pembroke touch'd with compassion for the young Lady, ask'd leave to be admitted into her Chamber; whither being conducted by Madam Digby, he found Leonore sitting in an Elbow Chair, with a slight loose Night-Gown about her only, tho' the Weather was not then very warm; but she had a fire burning within her, which none but Jamy could extinguish, and therefore would suffer no body to hold up her head but him. Her Eyes were constantly fix'd upon him, and the want of their usual lustre, and her pale Countenance, sufficiently discovered the anguish of her Soul. I am at the point of Death, would she cry frequently, and will you let me die? These being the only words she was heard to say, for a good while. Poor Jamy reduced almost to Despair, to see this young Lady in so miserable a Condition, did nothing but sigh; and his sighs being, in outward appearance, offensive to her, she wou'd look at him with some Marks of Anger, and continu'd saying, I am a dying, will you let me die? The Earl finding this young Lady under such a deadly Languishment, and seeming to ask the Preservation of her Life, made her a Compliment; which was answered by her only by a Nod, but continu'd in the same tone, Will you let me die? with so melancholy an Air and Voice, as drew Tears from all that beheld her.

At last the Earl of Pembrook casting his eyes upon Jamy, discerned so great a resemblance betwixt him and the Countess of Devonshire, that it is impossible to describe the Confusion it caused in his Mind. She knew him as soon as he enter'd the Room; which, as it occasion'd no small disturbance in her, so the various Alterations in her Face were undeniable Symptoms of her Uneasiness; and she wou'd not have staid long in the Chamber, had not Leonore, who wou'd not be without Jamy, kept her. So being oblig'd to see herself expos'd to the Curiosity of the Earl of Pembrook, he told her, You are very constant in attending this poor dying Lady? My Lord, answer'd Jamy with a low voice, for fear of being discover'd by the sound thereof, I am willing to do her all the petty Services I can. Perhaps, added the Earl, you are one of her Relations? I have not the honour of being so, reply'd he. And what brought you hither? continu'd my Lord; a young Gentleman so well accomplish'd as you, might fix in a more advantageous place for his Fortune, than to spend his time in the Country. Instead of answering his Question, Jamy told him, My Lord, our Patient is disturbed at our Discourse so near her.

The Earl hereupon seated himself in a Chair where he might more narrowly observe and take a view of Jamy; and the more he look'd at him, the more he discover'd of the Air and Deportment of the Countess of Devonshire: Is she then really escaped her Husband's Fury? said he to himself; and is it in this Place she has sought for shelter under this Disguise? Whilst he was sitting very pensive, for some time, the Countess of Devonshire, who observed all his Motions, began to be convinc'd, that if he was not already very certain of it, it wou'd not be long before he wou'd discover her Disguise: Never was any poor Lady brought to such an extremity, not knowing what Course to take for her Safety: However, she took the first opportunity of getting out of the Room; but being, as yet, unresolved what to do, went into the Wood, there to reflect upon the present Necessity she was reduced to, of leaving the Place. O matchless Frailty! cry'd she, will my hard Fortune never cease to Persecute me? Which way I turn myself I meet those that will persecute me; some out of an implacable Hatred, conspire against my Life; Others hurried on by Passion I can't submit to, add to my Torments; let us therefore fly, let us retire to some Desart or other, where I may spend the remnants of my miserable Days in quietness: She was upon the point of putting in execution her Resolution, when she was met by the Earl of Pembroke, just as she was going out of the Park: He having taken particular notice of Jamy when he went out of the Room, and this proving an additional reason to augment his former Suspicions, sought only an opportunity to follow him. Leonore soon after perceiving he was gone, and asking with much earnestness, where he was, my Lord pretending to be concern'd for the Sick Lady, went to look after him, and found him coming out of the Park. Leonore wants you, said he to Jamy; but I can't also be without you, I must have one Moments Conversation with you. My Lord, reply'd she, I want Sense to entertain you; besides you are sensible in the Condition this poor sick Lady is in, I can't stay long from her. She had scarce said these Words, but she was a going away as fast as she cou'd. All these things serving only to confirm the Earl in his former Opinion, and unwilling to lose so precious an Opportunity; this made him transgress the Rules of Decency, for he run after Jamy, and not without some Violence, stop'd him: No, no, said he, I shall not suffer you to leave me thus; and then taking him by the hand, pull'd him against his Will, into the Wood:

It was here the Earl, once more, look'd stedfastly at him for some time, and then breaking silence: Are not you sensible, said he, I am convinced of what you wou'd make a Mystery to me? Most adoreable Countess, don't refuse to make me your Confident: How many Tears have I sacrificed to your Death? I perfectly know you, 'tis impossible such a thing as this shou'd escape my penetration; let me stand indebted to you for a Secret I am Master of already. The Respect I bear you, My Lord, answered Jamy modestly, makes me imagine, that you have a mind to divert yourself with me, rather than that you shou'd really mistake my Person; but will you give me leave to ask you upon what ground it is you give me the Title of a Countess? Oh! cruel Woman, teply'd he, do you think it possible I shou'd be mistaken? How! shou'd that very Heart which adores you, not know you? Should the same Eyes that have shed so many Tears sor you, mistake when they see you? and is not your Cruelty alone, sufficient to convince me that you are still the same? I can't tell, my Lord, said Jamy, with an angry Air, whom you take me for; but I think you had better not detain me, when you know Leonore wants me. Whom I take you for Madam, continu'd the Earl, Oh! I take you for the most cruel Person in the Universe; nobody has admittance to you, but the Earl of Warwick, this happy Mortal maintains his ground in your Heart, in spite of all your Adorers; and you delight in treating me thus cruelly, on purpose to oblige him: How your Eyes sparkle with Disdain and Anger! Alas! why will you make the most respectful, the most tender and most Unfortunate of all Lovers, the Object of your Hatred?

The Countess seeing him so sensibly afflicted, cou'd not forbear to feel some share in his Pain, she stood with her Arms a-cross, and her Eyes fixt on the ground immoveable; not knowing what Resolution to take, whether to discover or continue to conceal her Name. The Earl, who was not insensible of what pass'd in her Heart, wou'd willingly at her Feet have conjured her to put an entire Confidence in him, but that he fear'd to be overseen by somebody or another; but he forgot not to represent to her in the most lively Expressions that cou'd be invented, the signal Obligation he shou'd owe her, if she wou'd make him a sharer in the Secret. After various Reflexions; she resolved not to comply with his Request, and told him, 'she thought it very hard to be thus persecuted by a Person she had nothing to do withal; and so away she went,' so overwhelm'd with Grief, that she scarce knew what she did, or whither she was going. The Earl was no less troubl'd than herself; not knowing what he had best to do: He follow'd her at a good distance with his Eyes, but his Respect to her Person wou'd not permit him to go after her. After a few moments stay, his impatience of seeing her again made him hasten out of the Wood to Leonore's Chamber; but was much surprized not to meet with her there. Leonore ask'd very earnestly after Jamy; 'I am at the point of Death, said she, I want to talk with him about a Matter of the utmost Consequence, both to me and him.' Search being made after him in every Corner, at last word was brought, that he had been met on Horseback, riding as fast as he cou'd from the House. At this unexpected News, Leonere and the Earl being equally afflicted, the first fetch'd a deep Sigh, and desired the Earl to draw nearer:

'You will doubtless be surprized, my Lord, said she to him, that not having the honour to know you, I shou'd chuse you rather than any one of my own Family, the Executor of my last Will and Testament; but, it being my desire to have it executed accordingly, without any regard to young Digby or his Mother; I promise myself from your Generosity, that you will see Jamy put into the quiet Possession of what I now bequeath to him, which is of my whole Estate, and every thing I am Mistress of in the World: I don't question but he will wonder at this Action, and perhaps I am in the wrong thus to reward his Ingratitude; but my Heart is as full of Tenderness towards him, as his is full of Aversion to me. To be short, my Lord, we are not at all times Masters of the Sentiments of our Hearts; 'twas that made me desire the same share in his, as he had in mine, and notwithstanding the inequality that is betwixt us, offer'd to marry him, if he thought fit, but his indifferency soon decided the Matter against my Request. 'Tis therefore time to die, this is the only Satisfaction I can have without him.' At these Words, the Tears trickl'd down her Cheeks; and the Earl, who was not a little dispos'd to melancholy, bore so considerable a share in her Affliction, that she soon perceiv'd it, and returning hearty Thanks, told him: 'I shou'd die with some Satisfaction, cou'd I have seen in Jamy something resembling the same Sentiments you are pleas'd to express: No body but himself would have denied me so reasonable a Satisfaction; but were you acquainted with his Heart, you wou'd be surprized at his Cruelty.' 'Alas! Madam, said the Earl to her, I know it too well. If he has proved the Cause of your Misfortunes, he has no less been the occasion of mine. What do you say my Lord? reply'd Leonore, Do you take me right? I spoke of Jamy, that young Gentleman you saw in this Chamber. Yes, Leonore, answer'd he, I understand you very well, and that you may be sensible I did, know that the Person unto whom you have made your addresses, under the Name of Jamy, is a Lady, whom you might still see here at this moment, had it not been for my coming hither; 'twas my fatal Presence she could not endure, 'tis that made her fly, we shall see her no more. However, keep my Secret as Religiously as I will keep yours.' Leonore full of Amazement and Confusion at what was told her, was not able to utter one Word; she could scarce believe what the Earl said, tho' at the same time she wish'd it might be true, for she began to be sensible that the Repose of her Life depended thereon, which made her ask him a thousand Questions. At last she ingaged him by repeated Oaths to confirm the Truth to her, which made her recal to mind several things she had seen Jamy do, which were much more usual among Women than Men, and which might easily have created a suspicion in her, had she not been blinded by Passion.

After having well weigh'd the present Circumstances of her Life, Death began to appear to her in its most terrible shape; she had flatter'd her self, that her Generosity to Jamy express'd in her last Will and Testament, and the Declaration she intended to make him of having taken some Poyson, would produce more tender effects than all her Discourses had been able to do, and move his heart to Love, or at least to Compassion; but this Design being rendred abortive by his Absence, and by what she had heard from the Earl, she told him, after some moments silence: The Confession I have made to you is so very disagreeable to a Woman of my temper, that whatever you will hear me say further, will be overcome by me without much difficulty. I tell you this, my Lord, said she, in reference to the condition you now see me in; what I have done was the effect of my Despair, I have poysoned my self. The Earl stood amazed at the strangeness of the thing. Is it possible, Leonore, cry'd he, that you had courage enough to make an attempt upon your own life? Oh! 'tis time to assist you, 'tis time to get proper Remedies to save you. I should not be against it, reply'd she, if it could be done without the knowledge of my Friends, who else will certainly reproach me with it; and my Aunt will force me to marry her Son; 'Twas in some measure the Aversion I had to that match, which made me fix my Love upon Jamy. The Earl perceiving Leonore willing enough to live, provided her Vanity might be thus far satisfy'd, as to keep her design of making her self away by Poyson from her Friends, told her, he would himself bring her proper Antidotes; and if his affairs should call him to London, the Earl Rivers was to do it in his stead; that he being his intimate Friend, he could promise in his behalf, that he would concern himself in so particular a manner in her welfare, that she might without the least fear put an intire confidence in him.

He left her with this assurance, making all the haste he could to the Wood, to acquaint his Friend with what had happened; who in the mean while had pass'd his time, under a thousand Inquietudes, thinking that his Friend had forgot him; but 'tis impossible to express his Affliction when he heard the Earl of Pembroke particularize to him what had pass'd at Madam Digby's House in reference to Leonore: 'Twas not alone the danger he understood she was in, that troubled his mind, but also the dread of a beautiful Rival; but when he was told she had taken Poyson, he remain'd like one that was Thunder-struck. So soon as he had recovered himself a little, he was for taking Post immediately for London, to provide such Remedies as should be judged proper under her present Circumstances. But the Earl of Pembroke disliking his Resolution: 'If you go to London, said he, and come back without paying your Respect to the King and Madam Gray, they will perhaps take it amiss; and if you do, it will take you up more time than can be allow'd of. Take my advice, stay you at Grafton, and let me go, let me follow my cruel Destiny. Alas! was there ever such thing as this? I met my Lady Devonshire by the oddest Chance in the world, Love seem'd as if she intended to bestow some of her favours upon me; but when I thought I might flatter my self with hopes, she proves as cruel to me as ever. Why then should you make any further Attempt?' said the Earl Rivers to him: 'Reason and Despair ought to have bin my Physicians, reply'd he, but hitherto they have not bin able to compass the Cure.'

They were thus discoursing till they came to the House, where whilst the Horses were getting ready, the Earl of Pembroke took a little nourishment, and the Earl Rivers took this opportunity of asking him a thousand Questions concerning Leonore: 'Do you think, said he, she will quit her Passion for Jamy? perhaps, since she resolved to poyson her self, she may also be still inclined to die for him? No, matters stand with her otherwise now than they did before, reply'd my Lord Pembroke; I have made her sensible of her error, Death begins to appear frightful to her, and you must endeavour to perswade her, that the best way to forget Jamy is to put you in his Place.' ''Tis true, reply'd the Earl, that if I could convince her of that Point, I might flatter my self with some hopes of success; but perhaps her opinion and mine are very different. Alas! added he, 'tis time enought to think of means to oblige her, my Lord, let's endeavour first her Preservation; I conjure you to send me a powerful Antidote, and pray Heavens grant it may prove effectual.'

They embraced at parting, and the E. of Pembroke was all the while he was upon the Road to London ruminating upon what measures he was to take, whether to go in search of the Countess, and to do her all the service that possibly he could, or whether he had better not to look after her, for fear of incurring her Displeasure; nay, he wish'd it might be concealed from all the world, that she was still alive. His first motive had a peculiar relation to the Countess's Repose, fearing lest the Earl of Devonshire might deal very roughly with her; nor was his mind less disturbed with the Earl of Warwick's Passion. The condition he had seen that Lord reduced to, upon the News of the Death of the Countess of Devonshire, was a convincing proof to him, that he loved her still, so he fear'd that in case he should find her out, his Passion and Constancy might make a favourable Impression upon her: 'How difficult it is, said he, to be always Rival to a man who is beloved, and deserves to be beloved! But if I may hope for a favourable Change of my Destiny, I must find out the Countess, and perswade her to shelter her self in some agreeable Solitude, without making any body a Partner in the Secret but my self, and I would not fail to assist her to the utmost in her concealment.'

All his thoughts were taken up with such like Notions for several days, however this made him not neglect to send proper Medicines to Leonore, which produced this happy effect, that she soon recovered of her Distemper. This done, he employ'd all his diligence in finding out the Countess with all imaginable secrecy; and meeting with the Larl of Warwick, was very cautious in mentioning the least thing to him of what had happened at Madam Digby's; and the extream affliction he observed in the Earl, at the loss of my Lady Devonshire, was so far from moving him to compassion, that he told him, she was certainly dead, as often as he saw him, 〈◊〉 purpose to encrease the vexation of his Rival. At last the Court becoming insupportable to the Earl of Warwick, he desired leave of the King to retire for some time to Sion-hill, a Seat of his about 8 or 9 Miles from London, in the way to Windsor, seated upon the Bank of the River Thames. The Earl of Pembroke's return to London, whom Madam Gray esteem'd as much as she hated the E. of Warwick, facilitated his Request; for she looking upon it as a Piece of Policy to remove her Enemy at a further distance, soon impetrated the King's Leave for his Departure, wherewith the Earl was exceedingly satisfy'd, seeing himself now at full liberty to abandon himself entirely to the highest degree of Grief that ever any mortal man was capable of. He left his Family at London, taking along with him only Berincour and some few others to attend him. Thus left to his thoughts, he had this sad comfort to condole himself without being overheard, and to recall to his mind all the Circumstances of an Amorous Engagement, he pursued without the least hopes of Success.

In this Extremity he resolves to go to France, intending to stay some time at Calais, whereof he was Governour; for tho' one Vauelain a Gentleman of Gascony, in whom he put more than ordinary confidence, was his Deputy-Governour there, that Post was of such vast consequence, and so honourable, that nothing less than a Passion like his for the Countess of Devonshire could retain a Man in England. 'To what a condition am I reduced to, said he to Berincour! I am for leaving the Court, Chelsey and Sionhill, I am for leaving the Kingdom, because every thing revives in my heart the Remembrance of the Countess. But, my Lord, reply'd the Gentleman, do you imagin that this so dear a Remembrance will not follow you, where ever you go? have you forgot those melancholy days at Caerleon? There is a vast difference, cry'd he, betwixt that time and this. I had reason to believe, that the Countess did not hate me, and I knew she was safe in her own Family; but the Case is quite different now, she has writ a slighting Letter to me, and has suffered her self to be carry'd away by another: Good God! what a Contrivance was this for a Person of her Merits! What had I committed against her, and why would not she rather bestow this Favour upon me than another Lover? Does she think 'tis possible he should love her more violently than I did? and notwithstanding this she thought she could not offer a more pleasing Sacrifice to him, than to break off with me. But, added he, All these things are now remembred to no purpose, since I can't any ways doubt of her Death. This cruel Husband of hers has Sacrificed her to his Jealousy, and I am too fully revenged: All my thoughts of her shall for the future be employed in believing her not so much in the wrong in respect to my self, as I did imagin; I will think her faithful, to regret her loss for all the Remainder of my Life.'

The Earl would often talk to Berincour after this manner; and when he did not, it was to indulge himself with less Interruption in his Remembrance of my Lady Devonshire; this being the only thing he thought a fit object of his care, for he was grown so regardless of his fortune, that every thing that Madam Gray could do to supplant him, was indifferent to him, On the other hand, the Earls of Pembroke and Rivers had the best opportunity in the World, of improving his Absence to their advantage, had they been in a condition to do it. But the first seeing himself more intangled in Love than ever, thought of nothing else but how to find out my Lady Devonshire without making the least noise, for fear it might otherwise be attended with ill Consequences. As for the other, he dream'd of nothing but Leonore. The Antidote was taken without Repugnancy: This young Lady having changed her mind, was not for dying since she knew that Jamy was a Woman, she was asham'd of her frailty, and all her thoughts were now taken up in checking a Passion which had but too much tormented her: You may imagin that the Earl Rivers neglected nothing to dispose her in his favour; and lest his Assiduity should afford Cause of suspicion to Madam Digby, he insinuated to her with much dexterity, that he could not intrust any body but himself, with the true method and management of this Remedy, that therefore he should be obliged to serve its Operation every day, and that for a considerable time. All the Family shew'd abundance of Respect and Gratitude to him, in consideration of the Pains he took to preserve Leonore's Life, as well as all her Acquaintance; so that there needed not much trouble for him to get a free Access.

In the mean time Jamy's ••ight made no small noise amongst them. One of Leonore's Attendants had over heard several things that were spoken betwixt her and the Earl of Pembroke, and this join'd to some other Circumstances she had taken notice of, made her believe that Jamy was no Man, but came there is Disguise. She could not conceal her thoughts from some of her Friends, and these tatling it to others, the thing was not only divulged by degrees, but also encreased by certain additional Circumstances. The Earl of Devonshire, who had his Spies in every Place, was soon inform'd of what had happened at Madam Digby's, and the news thereof soon reaching the King's Ear (tho related under different Circumstances) he and Madam Gray ask'd the Earl of Pembroke a thousand Questions about it; which put him to no small Confusion, fearing lest the Countess of Devonshire should suspect him of having betray'd her Secret. Yes, cry'd he, 'tis my misfortune, she will infallibly impute the Discovery of this whole Adventure to my Indiscretion; I say to me, who is the most faithful of all her friends, and who would rather die than to make her uneasie upon any account whatever; notwithstanding all this, I am certain she will entertain quite another Opinion of me.

The Marquess of Montague, who was one of the most honourable and most amiable Persons in England, had so tender a Friendship for the Earl of Warwick his Brother, that he never let slip the least opportunity of obliging him: He no sooner heard what was rumour'd abroad concerning the Countess of Devonshire, but to Sion-hill he went, to tell him, that it was believed she was still living, knowing that he could not put any greater Obligation upon him than this. Coming thither, he was told by Berincour, that the Earl would see no body, that he was come thither from London to avoid all manner of Conversation, that in case he should give him admittance before the rest of his Friends, they would be apt to take exception at it, and that therefore he desired him to acquiesce in what he had told him: My Brother knows me, answered the Marquess, to be the best of his Friends, and I should have reason to be much dissatisfy'd if he should use me not as such upon this Occasion; However tell him, that if he will not admit of a Visit of the Marquess's of Montague, he may receive me as a Messenger who brings him some News concerning the Countess of Devonshire.

At these words Berincour went to his Master's Apartment, unto whom he told what he had heard the Marquess say touching the Countess of Devonshire. The very name of the Countess being alone sufficient to charm the Earl, he run out straightways to meet his Brother, and embracing him tenderly, conjured him, that if he had any News of the Countess, to let him know it immediately. But my dear Brother, added he, don't flatter me, let not your Desire of allaying my Pain, ingage you to feed me up with false hopes. I am not so far assured of what I am to tell you, reply'd the Marquess, as to engage my word for it, but the Circumstances are such, as make the thing very probable. He then gave him a full account of what was said at Court in relation to it; whereat the Earl was extremely satisfy'd, being glad to meet with some matter of Consolation, tho 'twere only for a few moments. He told the Marquess he durst scarce promise to himself so much happiness, nevertheless he began to be much better composed in his mind: 'Twas this that made him detain the Marquess, (who intended to return immediately to London.) Stay, stay here, said he to him, let us act in concert to deceive me, perswade me that the Countess is yet alive. But alas! cry'd he, did ever I really believe her to be dead, and was able to out-live her? I must own to you, Brother, she has had something of a foresight of what you now confirm to me. The Marquess neglecting nothing which he judged might strengthen him in this opinion, they pass'd that Evening in a very agreeable Conversation.

The next, and several succeeding Days, the Marquess stay'd with the Earl; they spent much of their time in Hunting, Fishing and Walking▪ At last, the Earl desirous to be sometimes alone, to ruminate with the more freedom upon the Ad¦venture of the Countess of Devonshire, one day as they were walking near the Thames side, told the Marquess, Dear Brother, I conjure you to permit me to take a Walk without you, walk you one way, I will chuse another, and let us meet again at Sion-hill. Why my Lord, said the Marquess smiling, is my Conversation so tiresom, that you can no longer bear with it? Alas, cry'd the Earl, I am not able to bear my self. The Marquess heartily compassionating his condition, left him alone without saying one word.

The Earl of Warwick then turning into a Walk upon the very brink of the River, seated himself under a Tree, where he could not be easily discovered. Here he was pondring with himself, whether he had best go to London in search of the Countess, or to write to the Earl of Pembroke, to be inform'd concerning what had happened at Madam Digby's; but he was soon check'd in this resolution, when he reflected, that the Earl had kept it as a Secret from him. I told you before, that they had seen one another, since his return from Grafton-house, when he was so far from mentioning any thing of the matter, that on the contrary he assured the Earl of Warwick, that my Lady Devonshire was actually dead: This made him begin to consider the Earl of Pembroke as a Creature of Madam Gray, and knowing that he had been in the Country with the Earl Rivers, this Lady's Brother, and his Enemy, these Reflections could not but create in him a jealousy against the Earl of Pembroke. He resolved at last to send Berincour to Madam Digby's, to inform himself of all she knew of that Affair, but feared that if my Lady Devonshire was really concerned in this Adventure, this Curiosity of his might turn to her disadvantage.

Whilst he was remaining under this uncertainty, he happened to see at some distance upon the River a small Boat, and in it a single Gentleman with a Bonnet pull'd over his face, row'd only by one Water man. He saw them Land near that very place which he had chosen for his Retirement. He heard the Gentleman say to the Waterman, Go to Sion-hill, and enquire whether the Earl of Warwick will not admit of a Visit, whether there is no means of delivering a Letter to him, and which way he takes his walks when he goes abroad. Don't forget any thing I tell you, I will stay for your coming back here.

The Earl being so near as to understand every word the Stranger spoke, had the Curiosity, as soon as the Water-man was at some distance from them, to know, who it was that wanted him; so arising from his place, I belong, said he, to the Earl of Warwick, if you think fit to intrust me with a Letter for him, I will infallibly bring you an Answer. I know you too well, reply'd the Gentleman, surprized to meet him in this place, to mistake your Person; I am come here to have your Life, or to lose mine. And then drawing his Sword, advanced to the Earl, No Quarter, No Quarter, cry'd he, defend your self, or I will kill you. 'Tis easie to be supposed, that my Lord Warwick, who was one of the bravest Men upon Earth, would not have have suffered himself to be thus urged by this unknown Person, had he not soon known his voice: not doubting therefore but that she was the Countess, and that what the Marquess of Montague had told him was really true, he was overjoy'd to see himself assured by the person her self of her Life; but on the other hand being vex'd to the heart to find her so far enraged at him, as that no less than his blood would satisfie her, he remain'd immoveable like a Statue. At last he resolved, instead of retreating, to meet her: You desire my Life, Divine Countess, said he, strike the stroke, this is perhaps the only minute I have been able to oblige you; and so was rushing upon her Sword (for it was actually she.) But how soon is a person prepossess'd with a most tender esteem disarm'd by so entire a Submission as this! The fair Lady was so surprized to be discovered, and so uncertain what to do, that she was scarce able to hold her Sword, and had it not been for a Tree that supported her, she had drop'd down upon the Ground, being seized with a most violent trembling. She saw the Earl at her Feet, embracing her Knees, bathing his hands in his Tears, and his voice intercepted by a thousand sighs, could scarce express the Sentiments of his heart. Rise, rise, my Lord, said she, I can't suffer to see you at my Feet. Oh! Madam, reply'd he, Either give me leave to die, or restore me to your favours. 'Tis so long a time, return'd she, you have laboured to ferfeit them, that I know not by what misfortune it is, I should not hate you more than I do. Have I laboured, said the Earl, to remove my self from your heart, alas! what way must a man take then to come nearer to it? Have not I served you with the same Veneration as they do the Gods? No, no, my Lord, said she, you have made all the ill use you could of a Letter I sent you by Berincour. How! cry'd he, Do you mean those two cruel lines you sent to me during my Exilement, which alone afflicted me more than all my Disgraces together?

'Twas now that they began to unfold their mistake to one another; and the Attempt of carrying off the Countess in the Bark, whereof she accused the Earl of Warwick, and whereof he justify'd himself to her satisfaction, occasioned no small surprize in them. At last she fairly told him, she believed the Earl of Pembroke, or else the Chevalier de Hereford, were the Persons that did it, because they had both made their Declarations of Love to her. The Earl now began to be sensible he had been bubbled by the very Person whom he thought his most intimate; and now recalling to his mind a thousand passages that happened betwixt them, all this served to confirm him in his suspicion.

But Madam, said he to the Countess of Devonshire, what is it that could move you to come to kill me? What is it I have been guilty of? If 〈…〉 to adore you, I shall always be so, and why will you delay to put in execution a thing that will tend to your satisfaction? I will ingenuously confess to you, my Lord, reply'd the, had I been acquainted with your real Sentiments. I was too much concerned therein, to put such a punishment upon you. But don't you remember that it was every body's opinion that it was you that made this Attempt, and that it was done with my consent? How did I know, as the case stood, whether it was the effect of an excessive Passion, whereof we are not Masters at all times; or rather of your malice to ruin my Reputation as well in my Family as in the World? 'Twas this opinion that made me resolve to purchase my Justification at the expence of your Life; I fancied it would prove the truest reparation of my Honour, when the World should be made sensible what Despair had made me do upon that account, and I look'd upon it as the only means left me to recover my Repose. Well, well, Madam, said he, don't delay any longe, I am ready to sacrifice my self with pleasure for your satisfaction; you will at least be convinced what I was capable of doing for you. That design drop'd that very moment you were for supporting it, tho' I apply'd my self to Fencing whilst I was at Madam Digby's on purpose to make the surer work of it; but after all I was very sensible that to put it in Execution I should find it a harder task to vanquish my self than you. Oh! Madam, did you not know your self to be at all times the Mistress of my Life? reply'd the Earl, what occasion was there for a Sword or other Arms to take away my Life? If you are still of opinion that it may conduce to your Glory, never spare an unfortunate Person whom you have made suffer so much. Oh! my Lord, reply'd she, there is something that protects you against all my anger! At least don't insult for the future over my fraity; If I must speak it to my shame, I can assure you, it will afford you no matter of Triumph. What is it I have committed, added he, you should deal so rigorously with me? Are you afraid, I should he apt to flatter my self too much? I don't very well know what I fear, said she, but it seems as if I ought to have a secret mistrust of my self in regard to you.

The Earl not able to contain himself for Joy, was going to throw himself at the fair Countess's Feet, when the Waterman returning from Sion-hill, gave an account of his success in his Errand. She bid him go and stay for her coming at some distance thence, What will you resolve to do, Madam? said the Earl to her, can you imagine I should suffer you to expose your self alone to new dangers? Pray stay for a little time at Sion-hill; we will take care for every thing there; I will engage never to see you, but at such hours as you shall think fit; and no body in the world shall know any thing of your being here. Alas! but I shall know it, my Lord, cry'd the Countess, and that is enough for me to refuse it; Let me undergo what dangers I must, I can't resolve to avoid them by exposing my Reputation by such an Action. How! will you be gone then, cruel person, cry'd the Earl, is it resolved then that the desire you have of avoiding me, must make you fall into the hands of a terrible Husband? I must hide my self, reply'd she, but there is no occasion for you to be concern'd in taking care thereof; I will go to my Nurse, and I will take the first Opportunity of going over into France-Oh! Madam, said the Earl, you contrive your own Ruin. You may be satisfy'd the Earl of Devonshire is inform'd of all that pass'd at Madam Digby's: He knows Jamy was sent thither by your Nurse, all the Circumstances that attended this adventure leave no room to doubt but that it was you: If you are so nice in this point as not to be satisfy'd in my stay at Sion-hill, I will go to London, and am ready to depart at that very minute you command it.

The Countess, after some further Reflections, being fully convinced of the danger laid before her eyes by the Earl, at last gave way to his reasons, but would not let him go to London, the Night being come insensibly upon them, besides that they had a great many things to say to one another, before they could well break off their Conversation.

The Waterman being sent away, the fair Countess in her Man's Apparel went along with the Earl towards Sion-hill. This being the first time in all his Life he had a full opportunity of Discoursing her with some freedom, he was so far transported with joy, that he would frequently stop her, and begin to rehearse the same thing he had but just said before. How happy did he think himself! what satisfaction did he not feel within his Breast! He feared not long ago that he was hated, he dreaded the Death of the Countess, but now all his Inquietudes were dissipated at once, he had sight of his Countess again, and found her not dissatisfied at her not having kill'd him.

The Marquess of Mountague in the mean while was not a little disturbed at this long stay of his Brother, and knowing both his Despair, and the multitude of his Enemies, feared some ill accident might have befaln him. The King's Favour had procured him abundance of them, but especially the Earl of Devonshire, his Family and Friends, bore him a moral hatred, looking upon him as the cause of their Misfortunes. The Chevalier de Hereford, whose unhappy Passion for the Countess encreased every day, considered the Earl of Warwick as his most cruel Enemy, and Madam Gray's Creatures shew'd no less Animosity against him; so that the Marquess of Mountague, no longer able to be at quiet under such a terrible incertitude, went out and search'd all those solitary Places whither the Earl used to retire to utter his Complaints and Sighs. Making the best of his way he could towards the same Walk whither he had seen him go before he left him that, day he espy'd him walking along in Company of a Gentleman, who seeming surprized at the sight of him, was going to turn another way, till the Earl told him: 'Fear nothing, I will be answerable for my Brother, and you are I hope satisfy'd, I will take care not to impose upon you.' Then going forward to kneel and embrace him most tenderly: I can't, said he, but make you a Partner in my Satisfaction; this Gentleman is come to bring me some News from the Countess of Devonshire; if you love me, keep the Secret to your self: and when we come to Sion-hill, let it be given out, he is come to pay you a Visit, whereby to amuse and disappoint the inquisitiveness of the Family. The Marquess was overjoy'd at the Confidence the Earl put in him; he saluted the Gentleman; but taking a narrow View of him, found him so beautiful, handsom and well made, that he was struck with Admiration. The oftner he look'd at him, the more he was confirm'd in his Suspicion that it was the Countess of Devonshire, who came to shelter her self at the Earl's House. Many other Circumstances, such as her Voice, the sweetness of her Eyes, her modest Deportment, and in short her graceful Air, were all such things as he thought cou'd not be centred in any other Person but her self.

The Earl, the Marquess and the Lady supp'd together, or to speak more truly, sat down at Table, for they eat nothing; the Earl being quite transported with Joy, and the Marquess strucken with Admiration, and taken up wholly in viewing the Countess. As for her part, tho' she was well enough pleas'd with the Earl's Justification, and her having found him again, she was not without certain Reflections; which disturbing her Mind, you might have read her Melancholy in her Face. The Earl, who narrowly observ'd her, soon guessing in some measure at her thoughts, as soon as he had an Opportunity of speaking to her alone, conjur'd her to be at ease. What is it you fear, Madam? said he, my Life, my Fortune, and all my Interests are at your disposal; I will die before I see the least Disgrace befal you. Oh! my Lord, cry'd she, with Tears in her Eyes, The so generous Offers you make me can't satisfy my own Nicety. Can you suppose I can see my self at Sion hill, disguis'd in Man's Habit, alone, left and abandon'd by my Family, reproach'd by every body, without conceiving an horrour against my self? Don't tell me of my Innocence, and the Satisfaction I ought to take in knowing my self not guilty of the least thing that might make me blush; neither am I certain, whether I may flatter my self of continuing to be such, since I know you; and as the Saying of Caesar, in respect to his Wife, was always in my Thoughts, so I apply the same to my self, being more nice of my Reputation than can well be imagin'd. What will become of me, thus toss'd under these Circumstances? If I stay here, am I not lost for ever? If I go from hence, I must expose my self to great Dangers: Judge then of my Inquietude. 'Tis I, Madam, reply'd the Earl, that will go from hence; I have already consider'd of the Matter, and intend to leave my Brother here. He is a sensible and discreet Person; I can entirely confide in him, whilst I go to London, to hear how things go, whereof I will give you from time to time an exact Account, and receive your further Commands. The Countess, who approv'd of his Departure, cou'd nevertheless not forbear sighing, when she understood that he was to be gone the next day. She thank'd him for his Complaisance; and told him, That nothing but such an Accident as this, cou'd have engag'd her to see him quit his own House; but that the Tranquillity of her Mind, in some measure, depended thereon.

The Countess being inclin'd to go to Bed, the Earl left the Room; and throwing himself afterwards upon a Bed, with his Brother the Marquess of Montague, they spent the remainder of the Night in talking of the Countess. The Earl did not now in the least regret all his pass'd Sufferings; and tho' he foresaw many Difficulties, and Obstacles, he was likely to meet with in his way, every thing appear'd pleasing to him, if he cou'd but please the Countess. You make me the Confident of your Love, said the Marquess to him; and tho' this ought to make me proof against her Charms, I have Eyes, I am not without a Heart: I desire you, my Lord, not to expose me to the greatest Danger you cou'd think of. It wou'd be an odd Story, reply'd the Earl, that you who have always had an Indifferency for the Fair Sex, shou'd now begin with loving the same Person I love: No, no; I know you better than you do your self: Don't be frightned with nothing, but take care to preserve me a Treasure, that is dearer to me than my own Life.

The next Morning at Day-break, the Countess got out of Bed, and receiv'd the Earl and the Marquess in a most magnificent loose Night-Gown; her Hairs hanging in Buckles upon her Shoulders, with a red Bonnet lin'd and edg'd with black Velvet on her Head. The Earl was so much delighted to see her in this Dress, that for a few Minutes he was not able to utter one word: Then kneeling at her Feet, I am agoing to London, Madam, (said he) my Brother who knows the whole Secret, is to stay here, to keep you Company, to speak of me sometimes to you, and to send me frequent Tidings concerning you. You put the Marquess, said she, to a needless trouble; I desire only some few Books, and a solitary Closet, where I may be at liberty to entertain my self with my own Thoughts. The Marquess said nothing, because he began already to feel the effects of some Sparks of that Fire, he intended to stifle within his Breast. But the Earl, who minded it not, desir'd him to stay behind; and then told the Countess every thing that must be imagined to proceed from the most lively, tender and respectful Passion in the World: and as it was death to him to leave her, so he cou'd not forbear to conjure her to let him stay but one Day longer at Sion-hill. Were she to have consulted her own Heart only, his Request wou'd scarce have met with a Refusal; but she being very uneasy at her being there: Such is my Misfortune, said she, that I must deny my self every thing that may tend to my Satisfaction. You know, My Lord, this is a Maxim I have prescrib'd to my self long ago; perhaps another Person wou'd not insist upon every punctilio; but such is my hard Fate, that whatever I do, is taken in the wrong sense. At these Words the Tears stood in her Eyes; which being perceiv'd by the Earl, furnish'd him fresh matter of Grief. Alas! Madam, (said he) must I carry along with me the Idea of so melancholy a Sight? Must I see you cry, and is it I that is the occasion of it? I, I say, who love you with so much Tenderness and Respect? Is it my Passion that causes you these Sufferings? The Countess return'd no Answer; but with her Eyes lifted up towards Heaven, remain'd in a pensive posture: at last, nodding to the Earl, Go, go, my Lord, said she to him, fly from me, I conjure you to do it; but never rob me of your Heart. He took leave immediately, but with no less Violence to himself, than if he were to have taken a Voyage round the World. As his unexpected Return to Court supriz'd every-body, so the Tranquillity that appear'd in all his Actions, was a matter of such a nature, as put Madam Gray and the Earl of Pembroke upon the Rack, to know the Cause thereof; whilst the King was highly satisfy'd to see his Favourite in the same pleasant Humour wherein he so much delighted, and the Earl's Friends took no small share in this Appearance of his Satisfaction.

In the mean while the Earl of Devonshire and the Chevalier de Hereford were come back to London, to pursue the intended Discovery; for having now sufficient Reason to believe that the Countess was alive, they were resolv'd to find her out at any rate; for which reason they spar'd neither Labour nor Cost, and had their Spies in every Corner It had been observ'd that the Earl of Warwick attended the King every Night till his going to Bed, and then went to Sion-hill; they knew also that the Marquess of Montague continu'd here; and that the Earl had hired a Famous Italian Picture drawer at an excessive rate, because he shou'd work for no-body but for him. In effect, he had sent this Painter to Sion hill to draw the Countess's Picture in her Disguise, since he look'd upon it as a singular Satisfaction to have her Picture in a Place where he might look upon it as often as he thought fit. But she refus'd at first to have her Picture drawn; and it cost them several Days, before she wou'd be persuaded to consent to it: during which time the Painter coming frequently to take a View of her, suspected her to be a Woman; but had more Wit than to say the least word of it; on the contrary, he avoided every thing that might render him suspected of having discover'd the truth.

The Marquess of Montague faithfully discharg'd the Trust; he attended the Countess with much assiduity, and neglected nothing that might divert her Spleen, being carefully seconded by the Earl himself, who came thither every other Day; and wou'd have come oftner, had not some weighty Reason kept him back. He gave an account to my Lady Devonshire of every thing he heard; and sometimes wou'd add some thing that might frighten and detain her where she was; since the Earl's chief Felicity at this time was centred in her being at Sion hill. As for the Marquess of Montague, he found to his Cost, that all the Resolutions he had taken of continuing indifferent whilst he remain'd with the Countess, prov'd too weak by far, to resist the force of her Beauty and Merits. My Brother has no real cause of complaint against me, said he to himself, I suffer without seeking for Ease: Alas! what had I done to him, to make me his Confident? What if I never was in love before, and must he therefore suppose me to be insensible, in regard to what is the most amiable thing in the World? He has prepar'd such Torments for me, as must prove fatal to my Repose. Whilst he was making these Reflections, the Earl of Warwick, as he was a going to Sion hill, espy'd him sitting at the foot of a rocky Hill, near the River side. Seeing him so pensive, he cou'd not forbear to enquire the reason thereof: I am ready to confess the truth, reply'd the Marquess, 'tis because I am in love with my Lady Devonshire; her Eyes exert their Power no less over me than over you. I have hitherto kept a most profound silence, tho' I was a thousand times in a mind to break it. I don't tell you this, to cause in you the least symptom of Pain; I am not a Rival dangerous enough to you; but can't forgive my self, I should make so ill a use of your Confidence in me. You wou'd have me, my Lord, speak to her only of you, and I can say scare any thing but for my self: You wou'd have me serve you, and I am vex'd to the Soul, I must do you a Disservice. After having made you this Declaration, I desire you wou'd let me return to London, whither my Duty calls me, and where I shall commit nothing that may occasion any Displeasure in you.

The Earl look'd upon him for some time; at last, embracing him, said: Ask me for whatever I am master of in the World, I will freely give it you; but, dear Brother, as to your Passion, 'tis not in my power to ease you. I am very well satisfy'd with your Resolution of returning to Court; for I am sensible a small matter more wou'd make me jealous. We will go thither together, said the Marquess, and wou'd to God I had never come hither. The Earl return'd no Answer; for tho' he lov'd his Brother dearly, his Tenderness for the Countess surpass'd all the rest: and he cou'd scarce forgive himself, to have been so short-sighted, as to leave a Person of so much Merit, and endow'd with such great Qualifications to entertain the Countess.

They went both together to pay their Respects to her, and found her very melancholy, on account of the insurmountable Difficulties she met with every day, which hinder'd her Departure; and the Earl did not neglect any opportunity of representing them more dangerous than they really were; and afterwards, to flatter her with hopes, sometimes of the King's Protection, sometimes of a Reconciliation betwixt her and the Countess of Anglesey her Mother. Nay, he told her he wou'd (if all fail'd) carry her into France; desiring only she wou'd have a little patience; so that by these Infinuations he insensibly detain'd her in a place, where he had frequently the Satisfaction of being with her. As to the Marquess of Montague, he told her, that he finding himself not in a capacity to do her any Service here, he wou'd return to London to serve her more effectually there. She return'd for Answer, She was sorry for his Departure from Sion-hill, that his witty and complaisant Conversation had not a little allay'd the bitterness of her Discontent; and that she wou'd not have consented to his going from Sion-hill, but that she hoped her stay there wou'd not be very long. He answer'd all her obliging Expressions only with a respectful Silence, more intelligible to the Earl than to her: who now judging it too hazardous to leave his Brother behind him with the Countess, they went together to London; this being the first time, after the Coming of the Countess thither, the Earl shew'd any Inclination of going to Town.

The Italian Picture-drawer, gain'd by the pressing Instances of the Marquess of Montague, had painted for him a Copy of my Lady Devonshire's Picture, after the Original he had drawn at Sion-hill. An indifferent Satisfaction to a Person so much in Love as he was; but he consider'd it as the only thing that might be permitted him, without being injurious to his Brother. As for the Painter, he found the Country so dull, that he cou'd not resolve to stay there for any long time; but soon fell in Love with a young Woman, who was a great Artist in Enamelling. However, he took effectual care to conceal every thing that pass'd at Sion-hill. Notwithstanding these Precautions, the Earl of Devonshire, having got Intelligence how Matters stood there, engag'd the young Female Painter in his Interest. The Prospect she had to make her Fortune at once, got the better of her Passion for the Italian Painter; besides she consider'd, that by discovering the Countess of Devonshire, she shou'd not sacrifice her Lover; and if the worst came to the worst, she did not much fear the Consequences; She being resolved, so soon as she had got the Mony, to go into Italy, and to settle there. 'Twas upon these Considerations that she engag'd to use all her Endeavours to find out the Countess; and her Lover being much more dextrous in his Hands than in his Head, she told him she wou'd not believe he had been so long at Sion-hill, that he had made this Story, only to serve for a Pretence to get abroad from her, and to settle his Love in another place: and finding her Lover touch'd with these Reproa•hes, she gave him to understand, That she should not cease to be jealous till he had fully justify'd himself. The poor Picture-drawer overcome by Passion, reveals his Master's Secret. The Earl of Warwick (said he) has sent me thither, to draw the Picture of a young Lady I know not, and whom he is so careful to conceal from my Knowledge, that she never appears but in Man's Apparel; I have painted her in an African Dress, I drew her in his presence, for he would not stir from us all the while; but in spite of all his Precautions, I have drawn a Copy of it for the Marquess of Montague besides, dress'd like a Woman, which I will shew you: for I must confess she appears more amiable in a Woman's Dress, than under her Disguise. The young Woman charm'd with the Countess's Picture, conjur'd the Picture-drawer to lend it her, because she wou'd take a Copy of it in Enamel-work; and he, who knew nothing of her Design, was willing enough to let her have it: and thus the Earl of Devonshire was let into a Mystery, which they had taken so much care to conceal from him, but whereof he had entertain'd some time before a shrewd Suspicion.

'Tis easy to be imagin'd he lost not one moment to take effectual Measures, to snatch his Wife out of the Earl of Warwick's hands; being seconded by the Chevalier de Hereford, both as his Friend and Kinsman, and a despis'd Lover: They got together all their Friends, and in spite of all the Earl of Warwick's Grandeur, and being the King's Favourite, resolv'd to take such a publick Satisfaction, as should appear suitable to the Affront put upon them. What injurious Suspicion did they not entertain against the Countess's Reputation! 'Tis true in all appearance they had sufficient Reason for it, besides that, in the utmost transport of their Fury, they cou'd have been sorry to find her Innocent. Sion hill is a very fine Seat, without any manner of Defence, adapted only to Pleasure, as having the Conveniency of beautiful Walks, good Hunting, and commodious Fishing; so that they needed no vast Prepartions to carry away the Countess, especially at a time when she thought her self in absolute Security; her coming thither being, as she thought, kept secure. They were well inform'd that her Apartment look'd into a Terras-walk, and that they needed only to beat out a few Windows, to get into it with ease. They knew very well that the Earl of Warwick (whose Courage might have check'd their Design) was not to be there that Night: so they got into the Garden without the least noise, and dividing themselves into several small Parties, upon a Signal given, all met about the Countess's Lodging Room, so that it was impossible she shou'd escape their hands. The Business was soon over; for they having pitch'd upon that time of the Night when the whole Family was asleep, they soon got into the Room; where finding some-body in Bed, put a Handkerchief into her Mouth, soon put her into a Horse Litter; which being narrowly watch'd by the Earl of Devonshire, and the Chevalier de Hereford, they rid on by the sides of it; attended by their Friends, conducted it to a Country Seat of the Earl's, in the Road to Windsor, being no great distance from Sion-hill. No sooner were they come thither, and all the Doors order'd to be shut carefully, than the Earl of Devonshire, who had been very silent all this while, began to break out into most dreadful Reproaches, whilst the poor Captive was brought out of the Litter; but instead of seeing the Fair Countess come out all in Tears, enough as was suppos'd to move all the Beholders to Compassion, they found a young, but very ugly ill shap'd Lad, half dead with fear. Never was a more surprizing Metamorphosis seen for many Ages; so they went abroad again to hunt out the poor Countess, and the Earl of Devonshire cou'd scarce forbear to shew his Resentment against him, whom he had mistaken for his Lady.

The thing happen'd thus; (which secured the Countess for that time:) Berincour, whom the Earl of Warwick had appointed to attend her, seeing her much out of Humour, propos'd to her to take the Diversion of going in a Boat upon the River, and himself acting the part of the Waterman, (he being very shy to trust any-body) they were insensibly carry'd down by the Stream at a good distance from the House: They were soon after surpris'd by a most violent Storm; and Berincour mistrusting his Skill in managing the Boat in such 〈◊〉 of weather, they made the best they cou'd to the next Shore. Night approaching, and the Tempest continuing, they thought it more safe to take up and pass the Night in some adjacent Fishermens 〈◊〉, than to return to Sion-hill; which they did accordingly, being regaled by these poor Country People with what Beds and other Conveniences their Cottages afforded.

In the mean while, the Steward and the other Domesticks belonging•g to the Earl of Warwick's Family at Sion House no sooner heard the noise on the Terras, but they ran thither, and found every thing in great disorder, the Windows broken, the Doors beaten to pieces, and all the rich Moveables of the Room destroy'd; and not able to guess at the meaning thereof, took Horse immediately, to notify what had happened to the E. of Warwick. He was then asleep, but so soon as he could be spoken with, they told him what had pass'd last night at Sion hill. Alas! who is able to express his Confusion at this News! Such was his Distraction, that he mistook the Lad instead of the Countess, not doubting in the least it was she; and without giving himself to ask any further Questions, sent for the Marquess of Montague. When he saw him, he ran and embraced him, O! dear Brother, said he, let us die, let us die; I could not keep that Treasure wherewith Fortune had entrusted me; and so related to him the whole matter. The Marquess no less discompos'd than himself, was not in a condition to afford him the least Consolation, so they mutually condol'd this Loss, and then resolv'd to go straitways to Sion hill. Never was a small Journey attended with more grievous Symptoms of Melancholy. The Earl did nothing but contrive the most violent Resolutions that cou'd be thought of, against the E. of Devonshire; tho' to look upon the thing with an unbyass'd Eye, 'twas certain he had the least occasion of Complaint; but being the King's Favourite, 'twas grown into a Custom with him to think he cou'd not be in the wrong. When they came in sight of Sion-hill, this seem'd to revive and add new strength to his Fury: See here, said he, the faithless House, which cou'd not keep for me what I lov'd so tenderly. I will set it on fire, I will not leave one Stone upon another; and I will proportion my Vengeance to my Despair. The Marquess told him. He would assist him with the utmost Ardour; tho' one wou'd have thought it shou'd have been less terrible to him to see his Mistress with her Husband, than with a Rival who adored her, and whose Merit was so much superior to his.

Whilst they were thus riding along the Bank of the River, they saw a Boat drawing near the Shoar; they knew immediately the Countess and Berincour, and tho' they cou'd scarce believe their Eyes, they leap'd with their Horses into the Water, without considering, that by the last Nights Rains, the River was much swoll'n. The Earl's Horse soon getting beyond his depth, was carry'd away by the violence of the Current, which put him in the utmost danger of being drown'd. 'Twas at this very moment the Countess was convinc'd within herself how much more beloved he was by her, than ever she had imagined before; she set forth most lamentable cries, which the Earl had the satisfaction to hear; and when soon after she lost sight of him, and actually believed him to be lost, she drop'd down half dead in the Boat, without the least signs of Sense or Motion. Bernicour not being in a condition to assist her, because he and the Water-man they had taken along with them, row'd with all their strength to save the Earl's Life; which they did most fortunately: For the Earl finding his Horse to fall him, disentangled his Feet out of the Stirrops, and lighting upon a Barge lately sunk there, he lays hold of the Mast which stood above the Water, till Bernicour came to his Aid and took him into the Boat.

My Lady Devonshire being not as yet come to her self again, the Earl threw water in her Face, calling her by her Name, holding her upright under her Arms, and giving her all the assistance that possibly he could; she was no sooner recovered a little, but the first Object she cast her eyes upon was the Earl, whom she believed to be drown'd. Oh! my Lord, said she, what a fright have you put me in! How glad I am to see you! But Madam, said he, what unexpected good fortune brought you hither, when I thought you to be faln into the hands of the Earl of Devonshire? And how did you make your escape? The Countess appear'd much surprized and discomposed, at what might have happened in her Absence. She related to the Earl by what Accident she had been prevented from coming to Sion-hill that Night, so that the Earl now remembred it must be his Steward's Son, whom they had carry'd off in lieu of the Countess, he being used to sleep constantly in the Lower Room, to take the better care of its precious Furniture. However, the Earl and the Countess were both convinced that their Secret had taken vent, that the Earl of Devonshire was every where in search for her, and that she was likely to meet but with a slender Entertainment at his hands.

MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK:
PART III.

THE Earl of Warwick and the Countess of Devonshire were considering betwixt themselves what an Issue was likely to attend so violent a Beginning; and he having taken a resolution to carry her to his fine Seat at Chelsea; 'Nobody in the world shall know the least thing of it, said he to her: If you come there, reply'd she, there needs no more to make it known. No, no, Madam, I put the greatest hardships in the world upon my self to secure you against your Enemies. I am too sensible of the pain the very apprehension of your being seized occasioned in me, not to take all possible precautions against such a danger another time, which would infallibly cost me my Life. Were you sensible of my Sufferings upon that account, you would have all the reason in the world to be convinced that there was never a Passion so perfect as mine.' She being a Lady of uncommon Prudence, did not think fit to return a suitable Answer; on the contrary, being vex'd he had been an eye witness of her falling into a Swoon, she imputed the cause thereof before him, rather to her surprize than her tenderness; for she could have wish'd heartily to conceal from him her Inclinations, and how amiable he appear'd in her eyes. After some further Conversation they agreed to separate; the Earl was set ashore, but the Countess stay'd in the Boat to go to Chelsea by Water, which tho' not the shortest, yet was thought the safest way. The Earl taking his leave of her with as much tenderness as if it had been for all his Life-time, went on straight to Sion-hill, where he met with his Brother, to their mutual satisfaction; being glad he had escaped a danger, which they expected would have pro¦ved fatal to him. Being wet to the Skin, he changed his Clothes, and took a few hours repose.

In the mean time the Marquess was got into the Earl's Closet, there to afford full liberty to his thoughts. 'How hard is my Fate! said he, I am become a Rival to a Brother, who has been always very dear to me; I still tremble at the fear I was in of losing him; and after all this, 'tis he that proves the Cause of all the misfortunes of my Life.' The Earl happening to come in, and finding him in this melancholy condition; told him, 'Don't complain alone, Dear Brother, I suffer as much as any man can do, because I have not resolution enough to resign to you that slender share of advantage I have above you in the fair Countess; but believe me, all my efforts are fruitless. Oh! my Lord, reply'd the Earl, what is it you tell me? Is it possible you should have so much tenderness for me? The very intention of breaking your Chains is an unpardonable Crime in you in respect to the Countess. If it is my Fate, to wear them as well as your self, let not my misfortunes interrupt you Pleasures. I am sensible I shall pay for it with my Life; but is it not reasonable I should do so, since I have been so imprudent as to stay with her, imagining I could be proof against falling in Love with her? I knew unto what a condition you had been reduced, and yet was so fool hardy as not to fear the same in my self. You have not had sufficient leisure, answered the Earl, to reflect seriously upon the whole matter: It seem'd to me, as if her very first Glances did pierce your Heart; and if I took not immediate notice of it, it was because I believed no body could see her without being struck with Admiration.' The Marquess told him with a deep sigh: He durst not ask whither she was gone; because notwithstanding all his resolution to shun her, he should certainly endeavour to see her. 'If this is the case, said the Earl of Warwick, I will not intrust you with the Secret. Alas! Brother, added he, is it possible, Love should check the Career of our entire Friendship? What prejudice have you conceived against me, my Lord? reply'd the Marquess: Am I not sufficiently afflicted? don't add to my Pain.' So they run with open arms, and embracing one another most tenderly: 'Let us Love, let us Love, cry'd they; Let nothing in the world change our mutual tenderness.'

It was not long before the Rumour of the Earl of Warwick being Drown'd was spread all over London; and the News thereof was, as it happens commonly in such like cases, related with such Circumstances as every one thought most suitable to his opinion; the King himself was deceived by so many appearances of Truth, that Madam Gray, with whom he happened to be at that time, had the Mortification of seeing him give all the Demonstrations that possibly could be of an excessive Grief. He went instantly to Sion-hill, and understood upon the Road what had happened there; how the Earl of Devonshire thinking to find his Lady there, had beaten down the Doors and Windows, and carry'd off the Steward's Son.

The Earl of Warwick in his return to London, met the King upon the Road, who by this giving him such sensible proofs of his Affection, he received them with all possible acknowledgment, tho' this was not the first time he had known the effects of this Monarch's Goodness. The King having told him a thousand obliging things concerning the trouble he had been in upon his account, made him come into his Coach, and ask'd him, Whether it were actually true that the Countess of Devonshire had sought for Refuge at Sion hill? The Earl was put to the greatest Nonplus that could be. Had it been to the King only he was to impart the Secret of the Countess, he would not have hesitated long in the matter, especally since the King d••…∣red an ingenuous Confession; but knowing that it would soon come to Madam Gray's Ears, he was too sensible it could not be put into the hands of a worse person, who would improve it to do her mischief. Upon this Consideration he told the King smiling, That he begg'd he would put himself in his place; and then tell him, whether he wou'd reveal a Secret of a Lady, who had put her whole Confidence in him? That it was certain the Earl of Devonshire had been deceived by some false Intelligence; but that if such a thing should happen, that the Countess should have so much Confidence in him, as to come to his House, he would rather die upon the spot, than discover it. The King found it would be in vain to ask any more Questions, but was not a little dissatisfy'd that his Favourite, unto whom he bore so great an Affection, should refuse to lay open his heart to him.

'Twas an easie matter for the Earl of Devonshire to make the Lad whom he had seized, confess, that Jamy had been at Sion-hill, but was not come home that Night; and that in all appearance he had changed his Quarters. His fury being raised to such a pitch, as not to be able to contain it within any reasonable bounds, he resolved to pick a Quarrel with the Earl of Warwick; and accordingly, attended by some of his Friends, went to London, where he appear'd the next day in the Play-house, knowing that the Earl of Warwick was there before.

The noise of what had happened at Sion-hill being already spead over the Town, and these two having not been seen together in one place for some time past, every one was more intent upon them than the Play, wherein they soon acted a considerable Part. For no sooner was the first Act over, but the Earl of Devonshire advancing with a fierce Countenance towards the Earl of Warwick, struck him with his Glove in the Face: 'Tis easie to guess whether the Earl, who was as fierce as he was brave, resented such an affront; He drew his Sword, as the Earl of Devonshire had done before, and so they made the Stage serve them instead of a field of Battel, till those that were there throwing themselves betwixt them, patted them at last, in spite of all their endeavours to decide the Quarrel upon the spot. They went away, but with such furious Looks, as sufficiently shew'd they were resolved to fulfil their Revenge; and the time and place of the Duel being mutually agreed on, they got out of the Court, for fear the King, to prevent the Combat, should put them under Confinement. The King actually gave Orders to shut up all the Gates, and to go in search for them in all places where probably they might be found; shewing himself extreamly uneasie on account of this Quarrel, which was not likely to be ended without a fatal Catastrophe. Madam Gray, who knew the Earl of Devonshire to be one of the bravest Men in the World, and consequently most proper to rid her of an Enemy, told the King he ought not to prevent their fighting together; that according to all outward appearance the Earl of Warwick was Instrumental in concealing the Countess, a thing not easie to be digested by an Husband; that on the other hand, the Earl of Warwick having received so signal an Affront, could not avoid taking safaction for it. 'I understand you, Madam, reply'd the King with much impatience, you are overjoy'd to see your own Quarrel revenged, and provided the Earl of Warwick have his Throat cut, you will easily be prevail'd upon to make his Funeral Oration. But I, who look upon this matter with quite another eye than you do, am sensible I must be a loser let the Event be what it will: If the Earl of Warwick is kill'd I shall be inconsolable; if the Earl of Devonshire comes to the worst, I lose a Man of Merit; so I am resolved to compose the difference, let it cost what it will.'

In the mean time the two Earls had appointed the Place of their meeting at Barn-Elms, a most delicious Walk upon the River Thames, about six Miles from London. Each brought his Second along with him; viz. the Earl of Warwick the Marquess of Montague, and the Earl of Devonshire, the Chevalier de Hereford; These two engaged one another not as Seconds usually do, out of Complaisance to their Friends, but a secret aversion, whereof they knew not the cause made them fight most furiously: In short, they were Rivals, and so the Combat did not end till with the Death of the Chevalier de Hereford, and the Marquess being dangerously wounded fell for dead upon the Ground. The Earls of Warwick and Devonshire fought like two Lions, till the last was run through and kill'd, and the first received a Wound in the Arm; this was the Conclusion of this fatal Combat.

The Earl of Warwick touch'd to the heart to see the Marquess Montague so dangerously wounded, and imagining that his Passion for the Countess, and the little hopes he had of being beloved had made him careless of his Life, began to blame himself for having chosen him his Second. 'Alas! said he, 'tis I that have drawn my Brother into a Quarrel, which I ought to have maintain'd alone. Was not I very unfortunate when I left him at Sion-hill with the Countess? I knew the force of her Charms was irresistible; was it not an imprudent action in me to leave him in so dangerous a place? I must die, continued he, if he dies; and if he out lives it, I ought to resign to him what he loves, being more worthy of her than my self.' All this while he did not neglect to give all possible assistance to the Marquess, when he found abundance of Blood trickle down his Arm, from a Wound he had not perceived by reason of the heat of the Combat. But finding that there was no long staying for them in this place, he got into a Boat with his Brother upon the Thames, and so to London, where he kept him concealed, till he knew how this matter would be relish'd by the King; this done, he himself went alone privately to Chelsea, where he entred his House through a Back door of the Garden, whereof he had the Key.

Having lost abundance of Blood, he look'd out for a place where to take a little rest; and making up towards an Arbor, which was not as yet covered with Green, because it was early in the Spring, he espy'd a Woman there, and approaching gently, found her to be the Countess of Devonshire. The sight of her caus'd such an Emotion in him, as is easie to be guess'd at; for the Part he was to act was of such a nature, that was to decide of so many things that he did not know how to speak, nor how to keep silence! At last the same inclination that naturally engages us to follow what we love, got the Ascendant over all other Considerations, due to the Widow of the Earl of Devonshire. He drew near with a fearful Look, and at once throwing himself at her feet, presented his Sword to her: If you believe I deserve your Anger, Madam, said he, punish me; this is the same Sword which has revenged you upon the Earl of Devonshire: He is no more among the Living. Will you pierce a Heart that adores you? Whilst he was thus addressing himself to the Countess, she stood amazed, not knowing to what all this tended, till she understood that the Man who was the most dear to her in the World had kill'd her Husband. She set forth a most lamentable cry, and groan'd as if she were giving up the Ghost; her eyes open, and her body without motion and speech, as if she had been turn'd into stone. The Earl who knew too well the Agony of her Soul, durst not say one word to her; but such was the Emotion of his Spirits, as made the blood run afresh from his Wound down his Arm upon the Ground: I am a going to die, Madam, said he; if you would have it so, I will make no Complaints against my Destiny. Yes, cruel Man, said she, I desire to see the end of your Life, I owe it as a Sacrifice to the memory of the Earl of Devonshire, you are his Murtherer; alas! why did you not rather commit this Murther upon me! I would pardon you my Death, but 'tis not in my power to forgive you his. Every thing obliges me to hate you; I must declare an implacable war against you, and omit nothing to take revenge of you. One stroke more, said he to her, you need not look out for any other Arms but your Aversion. You see unto what a condition I am reduced; I am only afraid my Blood will not run fast enough to satisfie your anger, pray make use of my Sword, and don't refuse me this melancholy satisfaction of dying by your hands. Oh! is it in my power? Barbarous Man, cry'd she, as if you were ignorant of that fatal Ascendent you have got over my heart! Alas! you are only too sensible of it; you insult over me in that you dare come to present your self before me, and still more, when you desire your Death at my hands. Let me lament at my own leisure the excess of my misfortunes. This last Catastrophe has cast me into an unconceivable Despair; for I see in your person the Enemy of my Husband, of my Children, and of my Family, and nevertheless suffer you in my presence, and don't find within my self those motions of that implacable hatred I ought to bear you. Punish me, Madam, I am at your feet ready to submit to any thing, reply'd the Earl with a low and feeble voice, and then his strength failing, he lay stretch'd out upon the Ground, covered all over with Blood, Speechless, and in a cold Sweat.

The surprize this Accident caused in the fair Countess, is scarce to be conceived: At that very instant, leaving her Revenge to the Law, and the King's disposal; and looking upon it as a base Action to fight against a vanquish'd Enemy, all her care was bent upon his Relief. Berincour, who had got notice of his Master's arrival, and who was in search after him, happened to come that way at that very juncture of time; and seeing him in Company with the Countess, was going back out of Respect. She call'd him to her, and shewing the Earl, whose Head she held with her Hands, said, Come to our assistance, we are both a going to die. Berincour frighted to the heart to see his Master in such a Condition, begg'd the Countess to assist him, and then bound up the Wound in his Arm so dextrously, that the Blood was stop'd immediately: He then went to fetch some Water, which he sprinkled into his Face; and this, with certain Cordial Drops he gave him, immediately brought him to himself out of the Swoon, that had been occasion'd by the loss of Blood and Spirits, and the Emotion he felt at the Reproaches of the Countess of Devonshire. Overjoy'd to see her so near him; Alas! Madam, said he, Is it you? Am I worthy of your Pity? wou'd you have me live? or do you reserve me with an intention to make me a more publick Example of your Revenge? She answer'd not a word, but cry'd without intermission. The Earl of Warwick went slowly to the House, supported by Berincour: But the Countess remain'd in the Arbour, to abandon herself to her Grief, which being somewhat check'd by the Earl's Presence, when she now saw herself alone, Good God! what melancholy Reflexions did not she make upon the odness of her Destiny! She was Mistress of too great a share of Sense, not to foresee the Consequences of so tragical an Accident; how the blame of the Earl of Devonshire's Death was to be laid at her Door, since at the same time she lay concealed at the Earl o. Warwick's: What other interpretation can this admit of? said she, and who will be able to discern my Innocence, involved in so many dark Ridles? She considered herself like a Woman banish'd the World, abandon'd by her Relations and Friends. Where should she seek for Refuge now? How be able to appear at Court? How to live a Vagabondlife, and lie under a suspicion of a Love Intrigue? Her Grief prevail'd so far over Spirits, that she was ready to drop down dead, when Berincour coming very seasonably to her Relief, conjured her to give a Visit to his Master in his Chamber: I will never see him more, said she all in Tears, he has robb'd me of my Reputation, he has disturb'd the Repose of my Life, I am resolved to leave this place, let the Event be what it will. Had it been upon another Occasion, Berincour would have been much surprized at these Expressions; but knowing what just cause she had to be thus afflicted, he did all that lay in his Power to give her some Consolation: At the same time he made such pressing Instances to engage her to see the Earl, to consult about their Affairs, representing to her, that else he wou'd certainly come out to see her, that at last she consented to his Requrst

Madam, said the Earl to her, I am too cautious in every thing relating to you, to suffer with Patience you should he charged of having too much indulgence for me; I would willingly please you, 'tis the only Desire and Business of my Life, 'tis the only happiness I know of; but rather than this Happiness, the greatest of all others to me, should fall to my Lot at the expence of your Honour, I shou'd have Resolution enough to resign it. Judge by this, whether I make serious Reflexions upon what course you ought to take upon this Occasion: Nay, I dare go farther, and advise you to go immediately to throw yourself at the King's feet, and demand my Head for having fought your Husband and kill'd him, contrary to the Laws of the Land, and without his Majesties Permission. But considering that the Earl and Countess of Anglesey may not be so soon reconciled to you, and that your Husband's Executors out of Prejudice taken against you, may be backwards in supplying you with what is necessary to make your appearance at Court, I desire you to accept of these Jewels, which being of a considerable value, will enable you to prosecute me to Death.

Are these the Arms you put into my Hands wherewith to fight you? O! the most generous Enemy that ever was, or ever will be, cry'd the Countess, How! wou'd you have me make use of your Obligations to Persecute you, and to declare myself your Enemy, when you heap Favours upon me? Leave me, my Lord, to my own entire liberty to hate you: The Road you cut out to come to my Heart, is too offensive to me, I desire nothing of yours, because I would not be charged with Ingratitude, when I must act against you. The Earl employ'd all his Rhetorick to persuade her, but in vain; she had a Soul too noble to burthen herself with such an Obligation. After having said many things more, or rather all what the nature of so odd an Adventure would admit of: How can I, added she, ask the King to give me Satisfaction proportionable to the Evil you have done me, when I owe you already such signal Obligations? And after all, tho' the World is not acquainted with the true reason thereof, every body has taken such a prejudice against me already, that they will believe the whole to be only a Droll. No matter for that, Madam, reply'd the Earl, it ought to be your Care to have nothing to reproach to yourself; let Time and Chance take care for the rest. Is it possible, said she, you can imagine I should for the future be your most cruel Enemy? And is it possible, Madam, said he, you should be so? I have always presero'd such pure and respectful Sentiments for you, I have had so slender a share in that unfortunate Accident, which renders you inconsolable: I received so gross an Affront from the Earl of Devonshire before I so much as thought of Revenge, that if you will examine my whole Conduct, you will agree with me, that I deserve only Compassion.

They continued their Discourse for a considerable time; till at last the Earl saw the Countess take her final Leave, and that with such an Affliction on his side, that he never felt the like before at any time of their Separation. Berincour attended her to London, and the Earl went in his Barge the same way, accompanying the Boat wherein his adorable Countess was with his Eyes as far as he could; and would rather have chosen to follow her to the Worlds end, than to have been King of England.

Scarce was the Duel betwixt the Earls of Devonshire and Warwick over, but the dismal News thereof came to the King's Ears, and the whole Court. Every body run to Barn-Elms, some out of Friendship, others out of Curiosity; but nothing was to be seen there, the dead Bodies were removed, and the living gone. The King was extreamly uneasie at this Accident, not knowing, as yet, the Event, or on which side the Scale had turn'd; but was sensible it must needs fall very hard upon the Earl of Warwick and the Countess of Devonshire, for whom he still retain'd some favourable Inclinations, notwithstanding his former Grudge, to see himself so indifferently treated by her.

The Earl of Warwick durst not venture to go to Court, but writ a Letter, full of Respect and Submission, to the King, begging his Protection against the Widow and Relations of the Earl of Devonshire: He represented, that the Affront given him at the Play House, was of such a nature, as not to be wiped off, but by the Death of his Rival; and that he durst not presume to throw himself at his Majesties Feet, without his Permission.

His Letter met with a favourable reception from the King; but nevertheless, order'd him to keep himself concealed for some time, for fear that if he shou'd immediately appear at his Lodgings at Court, the whole Family of the Earl of Devonshire would unanimously complain of his partiality, to see him in the same degree of Favour as before.

The Countess of Devonshire, upon her arrival in London, went to her Nurses, the only place where she could hope for a kind reception. What a strange turn of Fortune? for the handsomest Lady in the Kingdom, born to so great an Estate, and related to all the Great Men of the Court: What an odd Change, I say, for a Lady of her Age, who had sacrifie'd her Inclination to her Vertue, and who had nothing that was material to reproach her self with! 'Tis true, her Innocence was her only Comfort; and had she been otherwise, her Guilt would have much increased her Misfortunes. She writ Letters to all her Family, she spoke to the Earl's Executors to act with her in concert, to prosecute the Earl of Warwick: But these were so far from doing so, that they treated her very harshly; and told her, they would bring an Indictment against her, and that she had best to look to herself, since she would find it one of the hardest peices of work she had ever met with in all her Life. A reception so different from what she had promised to herself, both surprized and afflicted her to the highest degree: She then endeavoured a Reconciliation with the Earl and Countess of Anglesey; and their Affection for their Daughter was not so far extinguish'd, but that it might have been re-kindled again, had the good effects thereof not been prevented by those that did her a thousand ill Offices with them.

All these Misfortunes were not able to subdue her Courage: She had taken a Resolution (the most difficult of all) to demand Justice against the Earl of Warwick; and all the Obstacles she met in her way, was not comparable to that. She threw herself at the King's Feet, in her Widows Robes, and tho' her Eyes were drowned in Tears, they had not lost their force. The King thought her now a thousand times more handsome than when she first made him her Conquest, and the Earl of Warwick appear'd a thousand times more, guilty to him, to have known how to get so far the Ascendant over so charming a Person, which had made him kill the Earl of Devonshire. He promised the Countess to treat her Enemy according to the utmost rigour of the Law, being very much pleased to have an opportunity of tormenting her in a way she durst not complain of; for whatever precaution she took not to betray her Sentiments by her Looks, the young Monarch soon discovered her uneasiness: Thus they revenged themselves upon one another, the King by Threatning the Person beloved by the Countess, and she in discovering her favourable Inclinations for his Rival.

Soon after, she found that her Name was inserted also in the Bill presented against the Earl of Warwick; and that they were for securing her Person, to call her to account, where she had absconded herself during her Absence from her Family. This new Disgrace obliged her to have recourse to the King's Protection; which she did one Evening when she knew he had not been very well that Day; and that notwithstanding this, orders had been given by his Majesty, that she should be admitted into his Closer. She had a long Veil over her Face; and as she was passing in a Chair, along a dark Gallery, a Gentleman wrap'd up in his Cloak, stopping the Chair-men, Whither are you going, Madam? said he, Have you forgot the King's Passion, and what Praises he has bestowed upon you but lately? Oh! cruel Woman, you intend to make me a Sacrifice to this dangerous Rival; you will re-kindle the old Flame. The Countess, by these Words, knowing him to be the Earl of Warwick: Alas! don't you know, said she, what a Condition I am reduced to? wou'd you have me destroy'd by my Enemies? And are not you of the same opinion with me, that the King is so deeply enamour'd with Madam Gray, that he thinks no more of me? I cannot rest satisfy'd upon that Point, reply'd the Earl, I am sensible, that the Impressions you make are too lively to be soon defaced: If the King sees you once more, he will certainly fall in Love with you. I came just now from him, and it was he that told me he expected your coming; he waits for you with the utmost impatience; but, Madam, for God's sake don't go thither, secure me against a Misfortune I foresee will befal me.

You make me afraid of myself, my Lord, said he, I don't desire to be beloved by the King; speak to him in my behalf, and get an order from him for me to be admitted into a Nunnery; for since I can't see you without being Criminal, contrive it so that I may see nobody in the World. The Earl overjoy'd at this extraordinary piece of Complaisance of the Countess, return'd her a thousand thanks; assuring her, he would omit nothing to obtain the Order she desired from the King. However, when he began to intimate to the King the resolution the Countess had taken of retiring into a Nunnery, this Prince told him he would never consent to it; and that since she had no such Thoughts when he saw her last, this must be the product of his Counsels to her. The Earl being not a little surprized at the King's Answer, was now fully convinc'd, that neither Time, nor all the Charms of Madam Gray, had been powerful enough to rase out of the King's Mind, the Impressions made there by the Countess of Devonshire; and that therefore it was high time for him to persuade her to conceal herself.

Tho' the Earl of Warwick's Authority was very great at that time in England, yet out of a Decorum in respect of the Death of the Earl of Devonshire, he saw none but his intimate Friends. The Marquess of Montague did the same, his Wounds proving so dangerous, that his Life was more than once despair'd of, because the little care he took of it, proved a great hinderance to his Cure. The Earl of Warwick wou'd fain have been constantly with him; but his Passion for the Countess of Devonshire call'd him to other Places, where he might do her the most effectual Service.

This fair Widow as soon as she understood the King's refusal to let her go into a Nunnery, was contriving a place of Retirement, where she might remain unknown to all the World: She stood in need of the Earl of Warwick's assistance, without which she found it would be very difficult for her to compass her Designs. He caused to be purchased a House, privately, which made but a slender appearance on the out side; but so magnificently adorn'd within, that the Palace of Psyche, built by Love itself, could not be more pleasant or more agreeable. The Countess was very willing to accept of this Retirement, pr••ided the Earl of Warwick wou'd not come there to see her; being persuaded, that she could not, without Guilt, continue a strict Correspondence with a Man who had kill'd her Husband: And the Earl fearing, lest she shou'd be discovered in her Lodgings, unless she went thither with all possible speed, promised to do every thing she desired. The Earl of Warwick sent Berincour to attend her at her new House, whilst he stay'd at London with the Marquess of Montague. He had been in no small danger from his Enemies, could the King have been prevail'd upon to leave him to their Mercy; but the Friendship he bore him put a stop to their Designs; so that tho' they without intermission reiterated their Instances for the King to leave him to the ordinary course of the Law, he always found means to put them off by ambiguous Answers; till they were convinced that all their Sollicitations were likely to be in vain. The Countess on the other hand, now began to flatter herself, that living in this place of Retirement, without the least noise or lustre, she wou'd soon be forgot by all the World; when the Earl of Pembroke, now deeper in Love with her than ever he had been before, found out her House, and left no stone unturn'd, to get admittance there: 'Tis true, this was no casie task to be compass'd; but in England, as in most other Countries, there are few things which may not be purchased by Money.

The Earl found means to engage one of the Countess's Waiting women into his Interest; she opened to him a little Back gate, by which he entred into a most curious Flower-garden, where her Mistress used to walk every Night. He lay concealed betwixt a Hedge of Trees, when he saw her coming along negligently dress'd in Mourning, and more beautiful than the Mother of Love her self: The sight of her put him into an unspeakable confusion; for if he loved her beyond all the World, he respected her no less, and feared to disoblige her, if he accosted her. She will doubtless, says he, be offended at the liberty I take: All the imprecations I can make will not clear me from the suspicion she has conceived of my being one of the most intimate Friends of Madam Gray. Nay perhaps she may fancy I am in Love with her; but she will scarce think it worth her while to reflect thus far, the happy Earl of Warwick takes up all her thoughts, and she little concerns her self about me. The Countess had already taken several Turns in the Garden, before he durst venture to come out from behind the Hedge, but at last he did, throwing himself immediately at her feet. She frightned to the heart, run away, and the Earl thinking she knew him, and that what she did was out of an aversion to him, resolved to make her sensible of the Torments he suffered for her: No, Madam, said he, keeping her back, No, I don't come here to deplore at your feet these unconceivable Evils you make me suffer, I come here to load you with reproaches, as being the most cruel of all Women living. I come, I say, to complain of that unjust Preference you give to the Earl of Warwick, to the Man who has kill'd your Husband, to him, who is the Enemy of your Family; 'tis him you have chosen your Confident, your Protector, and the dearest of your Friends, whilst I lead a lingring unfortunate Life, which it is impossile for me to hold without pleasing you, and which I intend to sacrifice to you, if you don't think it worthy your care: There is so little reason in what you say, reply'd the Countess, moved at his Reproaches, that a Man must be very presumptuous to come to a place where I will be seen by no body to upbraid me with my misfortunes; once for all, my Lord, I forbid you to come here any more.

The same moment the Earl of Pembroke espy'd the Earl of Warwick; what a surprizing sight for an amorous and jealous Person! He did not question but that they had an Interview every Night in that Garden, and that there was a very strict Correspondence betwixt them; as the Earl of Warwick on the other hand, was not a little exasperated at the sight of him in that place.

How! is it you my Lord! cry'd the Earl of Warwick, is it possible your Curiosity should lead you so far beyond its bounds, as to forget what is owing to a person of that Quality and Merit as my Lady Devonshire is? And you my Lord, your self, reply'd the Earl fiercely, don't you set me a good Example? Have not I as much zeal and respect for her, as you? have I not an extream ambition to serve her? And, in a word, have I been accessary to her misfortune? All this signifies nothing, answered the Earl of Warwick briskly, there is no comparison betwixt your Passion and mine; but this is not a place fit to dispute this matter in. The Earl of Warwick carrying his Arm still in a Scarf, Scarf, the Earl of Pembroke was ready to burst 〈◊〉 madness, because he had for a considerable ••me past been very desirous to fight him, and whilst they were discoursing together, the Coun •ess took this opportunity of absenting her self, •eing vex'd to the Soul to see her self discover •d in her Retirement; this being her chief Consolation at that time to hope to remain conceal'd from all the world.

As for the Earl of Pembroke, he used frequently to commit such Errors in his Passion, as he heartily repented of afterwards; and so it happened in this case. He run away like a Madman, to Madam Gray, and told her what he had seen in relation to their common Enemies. She, pleased to the heart to have found so fair an opportunity of revenging her self of them, without more ado told it to all the World, that the Countess of Devonshire, not satisfy'd to have drawn so many misfortunes upon her Family, liv'd near London in a House belonging to the Earl of Warwick. This piece of hers so nearly touch'd the whole Family of this Lady, that it is not to be express'd, how many ill effects it produced to her; and the Executors of the late Earl obtain'd an Act, laying a Fine of one hundred Marks of Gold upon the Earl of Warwick, to be paid by him as often as he should go to see her.

The Earl was little concern'd thereat, as on the other hand it proved some satisfaction to the Countess: I shall now, said she, be freed from the hazard of receiving his Visits, which must have always been attended with a thousand troublesome Consequences. A long Absence is sometimes requisite to perform a Cure. But after some further reflections, Dare I, added she, flatter my self with the enjoyment of any Tranquility? Have not I found by experience, that ever since that fatal Day I first saw the Earl, it has not been in my power to forget him? what attempts have I not carry'd on against my own heart? I can't upbraid my self with having been too indulgent to him; Would it please Heaven, the world was as well convinced of the uprightness of my Sentiments as I am. Being fully resolved to lead a reserved life, the King's endeavours to see her proved all in vain; she was not for furnishing new matter of Discourse upon her own account, and therefore rejected all his offers with as much resolution as respect. The King laid the fault thereof upon the Earl of Warwick. How far she is prepossess'd in his behalf, said he, speaking of her, and how he tries my patience to the utmost, to dare to love where I love! These Reflections began by degrees to make him rase out of his Memory the Remembrance of the Services and the Acknowledgments he ow'd to the Earl; he forgot it was he who had put the Crown on his head; or if he remembred it, it was to be sorry he ow'd him such an Obligation. 'Tis certain, that any man less in love, or less generous than the Earl of Warwick, would have been very cautious to incur a Fine of an hundred Marks of Gold; but he slighted it, and if he took any precaution at all when he went to the Countess, it was only not to expose her to the Discourse of others.

His Impatience of seeing her carrying him above all other Considerations, he used no other disguise than a Cloak, so alone he went very late at Night. Her surprize when she saw him come into her Room, was such that nothing can be compared to it; Do you consider, my Lord, said she, what you do? you furnish our common Enemies with Weapons to fight us, and how dearly will you pay for this useless Visit you give me? Provided it is not displeasing to you, reply'd he, I •ave considered of all the rest; Madam, I don't •hink this satisfaction too dearly bought, tho' I •ay one hundred Marks of Gold for every time I have the honour of seeing you; and I should never be much concerned about the Fine, if you would but give me leave to run the hazard of paying it oftner. There is but little reason for what you tell me, added she, but, my Lord, you ought not only to have a regard to your own satisfaction in this Business, but also to my Reputation, which ought to be a thousand times dearer to you: Reflect upon what the World will think of me, if you come to visit me; I am still the Widow of the Earl of Devonshire. Oh! Madam, you are still the most cruel Woman to me in the world, replies the Earl. My Passion, my Constancy, my Respect, nothing is able to open my way to your heart, you always continue to be rigorous to me. The Countess return'd no answer to these reproaches, but lifting up her eyes to Heaven, fetch'd a deep sigh.

He stay'd as long as she would give him leave; but the Visit was soon discovered, for they had their Spies, who observed every body that went in and out at my Lady Devonshire's; so the Earl being Convicted, was forced to pay the Fine, which he did with so noble a freedom, as tended more to the confusion of his Enemies, than caused the least dissatisfaction to him. The King could not forbear to speak to him about it: Is it possible, said he, you should go about to be your own ruin; and that you should not have Conduct enough to forbear Visiting my Lady Devonshire? Did your Majesty but know how far my Extravagancy exceeds all bounds, you would not speak to me thus: For, Sir, to confess the truth, hitherto I can say, I have not seen one minute which might flatter me, to be beloved, I come to her against her Consent, I submit to all the harsh rebukes she imposes upon me, and to make up the matter they make me pay an hundred Marks of Gold. I can scarce believe you, said the King Laughing, certainly at that rate you are fit for a dark Room, with nothing but straw in it.

The Countess understood with the greatest vexation that could be, how the Earl of Warwick had paid the Fine, and that this last accident was enough to set even those who had entertain'd a good opinion of her hitherto against her: Her affliction was so excessive, that she cry'd for many days together. The Earl, who received constant News from her, could not be at rest till he gave her another Visit, in hopes to afford her some Consolation; but being no more cautious than before, he was discovered a second time, and was forced once more to pay the same Fine. The King threatned him with his Disgrace, unless he could alter his measures; and the Countess of Oxford was so far exasperated against the Countess of Devonshire, that she join'd her Interest with Madam Gray, and all the rest of her Enemies, to tear her quite to pieces.

This Aversion had its rise from a most furious Jealousie she had conceived against her, because they had always been Rivals in point of Beauty; and the Countess of Oxford, who was infinitely fond of her Husband, had taken a fancy that he sighed for my Lady Devonshire; perhaps she was not in the wrong of it; but if he did, his Destiny was the same with all the rest of those that loved her. Notwithstanding all this, this Lady having conceived a hatred against her, took upon her to make a most desperate noise about the Earl of Warwick's Extravagancies: He was heartily vex'd at it, but to no purpose; he left off visiting her, but this served only to exasperate her the more, which made her spread abroad abundance of Fa •lous Stories, which pass'd for true ones. Ac •ording to he course of the World it is enough ••at the Darts of a slanderous Tongue thrown •gainst a handsome Lady, are back'd by a multi ••de, to make them exert their full force, espe •ially if she be under the Clouds, and her Beau •y and Charms attract more Envy than Compas ••on.

The Earl of Warwick, almost reduced to de •pair to see so many obstacles in his way, contri •ed a certain Subterraneous Vaulted passage •eaching to the Countess of Devonshire's House; 〈◊〉 this Passage were several spacious Apartments adapted to the two Seasons of the Year; those for the Summer being crusted over with fine Marble, and other costly Stones, those for the Winter were Wainscoted with the finest Wood: He laid out besides this above 50000 l. ••erling, in rich Moveables, such as Brass Sta •ues, Gold, Silver, and Crystal Vessels, Brocad •d Beds, and such like, so that those of his in •imate friends, whom he admitted to the sight •hereof, thought they had been brought into an •nchanted Palace. These Apartments being fi •ish'd with all possible expedition, he writ to the Countess the most respectful and the most engaging Letter that could be, conjuring her to make •…is the place of her Retirement, from whence he would open a door into her Garden, if she would be pleased to give her Consent. But she •hew'd so invincible an aversion to it, and reject •d his Proposition with so much haughtiness, •hat he had but little hopes of seeing her setled •here.

This put him under an extraordinary perplexity for several days, which the Marquess of Montague, (who was then with him) taking notice of, 'I can't without some regret, said he, enquire after your Secret, because you will perhaps imagine my curiosity to proceed rather from my own than your Interest. But, my Lord, let your opinion be what it will upon that head, I can't forbear to take my share in your Grief, and look upon it as if it were my own: Oh! Brother, you need not fear to be suspected by me, cry'd the Earl, My affairs are reduced to so lamentable a condition, scarce any body will go about to cross me. The Countess of Devonshire forbids me to see her, and I know not what to think of so rigorous a Sentence. The King loves her still. How! cry'd he, shall the lustre of his Crown deface the Merits of my Passion? Does she know that if I would have consulted my own advantage only, I might sit in the same Throne, whereof I put him in Possession? So generous an Action as this, is it not worthy of the highest Esteem? I can scarce believe, said the Marquess, she should prefer the King to you, and would it please Heaven her heart were prepossess'd by no other but him: But, my Lord,—I understand you Brother, said the Earl, you love her still, but the Consideration you have for me, makes you not embark upon this fatal Ocean; you don't know as yet how terrible it will prove to you; but don't take my word for it, don't check your Passion longer upon my account; if it is my Destiny to meet with Rivals, you will be instrumental in helping me to vanquish them; and if Fate will not afford me the satisfaction of being beloved by her, make your self to be beloved, it will afford me some sort of Consolation.'

The Marquess, transported with joy at what he told him, embraced him most tenderly; 'And how! My Lord, said he, do you give your Consent for me to serve your Divine Countess! What you just now spoke to me, does it proceed from some sudden motion, or is it owing to your more serious Considerations? Don't trouble your self, reply'd the Earl, about the reason that made me say so, but make the best of it, if you can.' The Marquess of Montague did not think fit to push the matter any further for that time, and he was so taken up already with the flattering Idea of pleasing the Countess, or at least of endeavouring it, or to die at her feet, if she would not suffer him to live for her, that he could think of nothing else, than how to put his Design in execution. This proved no easie task, for she had taken such precautions to avoid the Visits of the King and of the Earls of Warwick and Pembroke, that her House was as narrowly guarded as a Fort. Notwithstanding all this, the Marquess got in; she was surprized to hear his name, and hesitated for a while whether she should give him admittance, he being Brother to the Earl of Warwick, who had been his Second in the late Duel; but it was not in her power to rob her self of the pleasure of hearing some news or other from him; and as she expected he brought her some, she had not strength enough to refuse him. The Marquess accosted her with such symptoms of fear in his Face, as much surprized her: I am come, Madam, said he, to justifie my Conduct; perhaps you have been told I knew before hand of their Quarrel, which occasioned the Duel; doubtless I should have been acquainted with it, had I been in London, but happening to go out of Town that very day when they quarrelled in the Play-house, I came to London again at that very time, when my Brother had occasion for me: He only desired me to meet him at such a place, which I did; but give you leave to guess what surprize I was in, when I saw there the Earl of Devonshire, and the Chevalier de Hereford. This last attack'd the first, and I need not tell you the rest, you being fully inform'd of it.

Alas! my Lord, said she, don't recal to my Mind such dreadful Misfortunes; however, it affords me some Consolation to see you take so much pains to justifie yourself: She fetch'd a deep sigh, and the Marquess highly perplex'd, whether he had best to speak or no, threw himself at her Feet, like one out of his Senses: Never was a surprize comparable to hers; for she immediately discovered the Secret Symptoms of an amorous Heart, which hitherto had concealed its Fire. You see here, Madam, said he, with a trembling voice, a most miserable Victim offered to satisfie your Anger; and if to worship you, as we do the Sun that gives us Light, is the way to incur your Displeasure, I am the most Guilty among all your Adorers. 'Tis the Fate of your Family, cry'd the Countess, to disgrace mine. What is it I have done to you, to cause me so much dissatisfaction? Rather say, Madam, reply'd the Marquess, What Crime have I committed, to be thus exposed to your Indifferency? You don't so much as think me worthy your Anger. Oh! Madam, I am a thousand times more unfortunate than I thought myself to be. Does the Earl of Warwick know (added she) of your coming hither? Yes, he knew of it (reply'd the Marquess) he made his Complaints to me; and believed, questionless by woful Experience, that my Destiny would be no better than his. But, Madam, since decency permits you not to chuse him for your Spouse, the same reason does not hold, I think, in respect to me; I 〈◊〉 in a condition to protect you against the violent •ddresses of the King, and the Animosity of your •nemies: I dare assure you, there are certain •amilies, that will not see themselves tamely op •ress'd; and my Brother will see my Happiness with satisfaction. Is it possible what you tell me •…ould be true, reply'd the Countess, interrupting him? If it be so, 'tis time to die. Good God! what is it I hear? said the Marquess, I had flatter'd myself too much. Whilst he remain'd overwhelm'd in a deep Study, the Countess full of melancholy Thoughts, fram'd a thousand confused projects, which all tended towards her leaving England: But the King having taken effectual care to stop her Passage in all the Sea-Ports, twas in vain to make an attempt of that Nature.

The Marquess took his leave of my Lady Devonshire, more amorous, and more afflicted than any Man upon Earth, for he had flattered himself, she would not be averse to change her Name for his The Grandeur of his Family, the King's Favour, the Applause of the People; but above all, his personal Merit seem'd to plead so far for him, as that he needed scarce fear a refusal: But tho' my Lady Devonshire was yet very young, she had such cruel experiences of the Inconstancy of Humane Affairs; she had seen so many melancholy Days and Hours, that all her aim now tended to nothing else than how to spend her Days in Tranquillity, by concealing that fatal Beauty which no body could look upon with Indifferency.

The King continued his Visits to Madam Gray, with the utmost Application; and at the same time, left no stone unturn'd, to do the Earl of Warwick all the ill Offices he could with 〈◊〉 Lady Devonshire: Besides that, he was no less assiduous to persuade Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy that he loved none but her; such variety of Gallantries, as it could not make him really happy, so it could not be pleasing to his Mistresses. Madam Gray being a Lady of the nicest Vertue, had got an absolute ascendant over the King, which she could not have maintain'd long, had she not been one of the most cunning Women of her Age; she began to be weary, to see herself put off from time to time, in her Marriage with the King; You know Sir, said she, upon what Condition you engaged me to change my Solitude for the Court; I don't think it reasonable, that the desire of keeping your Promise, should engage you into a business of ill Consequence; but it is also less reasonable I should continue any longer in a place where I may be justly suspected of shewing some criminal Complaisance; you have promised me every thing; I ask you for nothing, Sir, except your permission to avoid you. Consider a little the present state of my Affairs, cry'd the King, I am scarce settled in the Throne, and which is still in contest betwixt me and those of Lancastor: They have still a Party who will not fail to make use of the least suspicion of our Marriage, to create a jealousie in the English Nation; and you will see the Earl of Warwick, whose Power is only too great, at the Head of them; you know the enmity he bears you: If therefore, you will but afford me a little time, I will endeavour to the utmost of my Power, to give you entire Satisfaction. Your Majesty deceives yourself, when you talk to me in this manner, Sir, added Madam Gray, I am too well acquainted with this kind of Language, to be much mistaken in it: I am not ignorant, Sir, of your Passion for the Countess of Devonshire; I know your Sentiments for Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy; I don't intend to be any longer an obstacle in their way; I have a kind of Pride within me, which tells me, a divided Heart is not worthy of mine.

The King answered to the fair Widows Reproaches, in the Stile of a Passionate Lover, tho' at the same time he took no farther care to discharge his Promise to her, all his Thoughts being quite taken up with my Lady Devonshire; he was resolved to see her, but knew not how, because she had changed her Habitation, and kept the Secret from every body, except a very few Persons, whom she knew to be trusty and silent. He was continually tormented with these Desires, and believing the Earl of Warwick the only happy Person, the Obligations he ow'd his Rival caused no small vexation in his Mind. As the Earl of Pembroke had always had a considerable share in his Favour, and that he had observed of late, much coldness betwixt him and the Earl of Warwick; he pitch'd upon him for his Confident.

'I never ceas'd, said he to him, to love the Countess of Devonshire; her Deportment vexes me to the Heart, my Honour seems now to be concern'd in it; she avoids me, she hides her self; Warwick is the Man who has all the Preference, I wou'd make her love me, to revenge myself both of her and him; endeavour to find her out, and I will make it my business to please her.'

The Earl of Pembroke accepted this Commission with great Satisfaction, because he was absolutely at Variance with the Earl of Warwick, who had loaded him with bloody Reproaches, calling him an ungrateful, faithless Man; and Pembrook not accustomed to take such Language, had return'd him a suitable Answer; so that since that time, they never saw one another, but in the King's Presence. His Passion for the Countess was turn'd into a kind of Madness, and he felt all the rage of a most direful Jealousie, and such a Despair, as is almost inseparable from an unfortunate Lover. It came into his Head to advise the King to send out of the way the Earl of Warwick; he proposed it to his Majesty accordingly, who highly approving his Conceit, they had nothing more to do, than to find out a fair Pretence.

I told you before, there was an implacable hatred betwixt Madam Gray and the Earl of Warwick; the Earl knew she had sacrificed him to the King and that in some measure, she had been the occasion of the Disgrace of my Lady Devonshire; and Madam Gray, on the other hand, believed it was him who had hitherto dissuaded the King from marrying her: So the Earl of Pembroke judged her a proper Subject to enter into their Consultation of removing this Favourite from the King: His Age and Circumstances requiring he should think of a Spouse, three Parties had been proposed, viz. Margaret Princess Royal of Scotland, Isabella Heiress of Castile, marry'd afterwards to the King of Aragon, and Bomua Princess of Savoy, Sister to Charloite, Spouse to Lewis XI. King of France.

The King pretended to pitch upon the last, and spoke to the Earl of Warwick about it; no otherwise than if he had really intended the Match; and the Earl, who always feared he might Marry Madam Gray, took this opportunity to represent to him all the Advantages he was likely to reap of this March. He told him, that Margaret of Anjou, whose Courage was as great as her Misfortunes, was continually solliciting for Troops for Lewis XI. to conduct them into England, and endeavour the Re-establishment of Henry in the Throne; but that he having once marry'd that King's Wife's Sister, she could not expect any Succours there: And, in short, omitted noching, he thought requisite to convince the King of the necessity of pursuing that Design.

The King then told him, that this being a Negotitation of such Consequence, he could not cast his Eyes upon any body who was likely to acquit himself better of so great a Trust than himself; and that therefore, he wish'd he would, without losing Time in the preparing or staying for his Equipage, go directly to the French Court.

The Marquess of Montague stay'd for his return from Court, at his own House. 'Dear Brother, said the Earl to him, I am going into France upon the King's Service, and for the Countesses Tranquillity; I hope that such a Princess as Bonna of Savoy will fix him, so that we may not see him in Love with every handsome Woman he meets; that Madam Gray may be removed from Court, and that at last he may be mindful of what we have done for him. I must see my Lady Devonshire; I must give her an account how Matters go, and receive from her Mouth the Rules of my future Conduct.'

'Go, go, my Lord, answered the Marquess full of Grief, you will meet with a good Reception; 'tis not you she intends to avoid; 'tis the King, 'tis the Earl of Pembroke, 'tis my Lord of Oxford; and alas! 'tis myself. Pray Heav'ns it prove so! cry'd the Earl, but 'tis only too true, that my Destiny is the same; she listens to her Duty before her Inclination, she has banish'd me since I fought her Husband, and you may guess at it, by the Care she has taken to conceal herself, more from me than from you; however, Brother, tho' she hates me, I recommend her to you, as that which is most dear to me in the World; you are of yourself sufficently disposed to serve her, so that it is less needful to urge it to you; but I shall think my self as much indebted to you, as if you did it with reluctancy. Alas! my Lord, reply'd the Marquess, how shall I be able to answer your Desire? You are acquainted with my Passion, I have chosen you for my only Confident; and notwithstanding this, I check my Passion so far as not to be jealous of your good Fortune. I will then serve her in your Name, as if it were for myself: What can you ask more, from the most unfortunate Man upon Earth?' He said no more, nor did the Earl return any Answer; but taking the first opportunity of getting away unperceiv'd by any, went to the Countess. She had chang'd both her Name and Habitation. The Earl, who was inform'd of every thing, took nobody along with him, for fear of being discovered, and carry'd with him a Billet he had writ before, which he delivered to the Person that let him in, without desiring to be admitted into the House.

The Countess read the Billet with an extream Emotion: She was surprized at the Earl's Departure, and under a great uncertainty what to resolve upon: How was it possible she should let him go into France without seeing him! and how was it possible to see him without exposing herself to the hazard of a thousand Misfortunes! However, her Inclinations got the better of her Prudence, and she admitted the Earl into her Closet. 'Is it possible, my Lord, said she, you shou'd find me out every where? Is it not high time you shou'd let me die in Tranquillity? You know what Apprehensions I live under from those who hate me.' 'Don't reproach me with my Passion, Madam, reply'd the Earl, I have acted beyond my strength, in checking my Inclinations to see you; but could you be so rigorous as to command me to go out of the Kingdom, without giving me leave to conjure you to go along with me? I will find out a way to get you safely aboard; must I leave you at London, whilst I am a going to Paris? And is it in my Power to follow you, my Lord? cry'd the Countess; Under what Colour can I take such a Resolution? Pray consider my real Interest, and then tell me whether it is possible for me to do it?' 'Were the Danger you are likely to be exposed to, less than it is, answered the Earl, I should perhaps not urge you so far as I do, to avoid it; but, Madam, take my word for it, the King's Thoughts are not so much taken up with Madam Gray, nor with Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, nor with his intended Marriage with the Princess of Savoy, but that he thinks of gaining your Heart: The difficulty he meets with in the Conquest thereof, serves only to enflame his Desire, his Glory and Pleasure: To be short, Madam, he is a King, he is amiable, handsome, and witty; what is it I have not to fear? Nothing at all, my Lord, I assure you, said she, Nothing at all; 'tis true, you are not a King, but it was your own fault you were not one: for the rest, you yourself know that the King has not gain'd the least advantage upon my Heart; would it please Heaven I could treat you with the same Indifferency as I do him. Then come into France, added the Earl, throwing himself at her Feet; Come, divine Countess! hasten to appear in a Court, where you may expect to meet with a reception suitable to your Merits, let us remove from this: I am very sensible. that the King has conceived a secret Aversion against me, a considerable time ago, notwithstanding all his precaution to conceal it from me; and if you cou'd once leave England, you shou'd soon see me leave it also.'

'My Lord, said the Countess, with a melancholy and most serious Air, Your Passion touches me too nearly, to repay it with Indifferency; in spite of all the Rules of Decency, which prescribes me to have quite other Sentiments for you, I am not so far Mistress of myself as to follow them. If this Confession may afford you any Consolation, taste the full Sweets of it: But after all this, my Lord, neither wish nor ask for any more; I shall avoid you all the Days of my Life, and am convinced, that since I can't see you I shall fly from all the World: Yes, my Resolution is fix'd, we are both Unfortunate, neither is it possible we should condole our Misfortunes together; every thing is against us, we can't even have that miserable Comfort of intermixing our Tears and Sighs.'

'Who has prescribed you such severe Laws' (reply'd the Amorous Earl) and what is it that renders me so odious? don't flatter me with any particular Respect, I see the utmost extent of my Disgrace; for unless you did hate me, how could you take such Resolutions as you do? The Countess persisting in the same Sentiments, Don't imagine, added she, that when I say, I won't go along with you into France, I don't intend to go thither; but I will take my own time to go privately, and I must tell you, I will do all I can to conceal it from you; I dread you more than any other Person, because I have a high esteem for you. The Motive is highly obliging, but the Consequence favours of Cruelty,' reply'd the Earl with something of Anger in his Countenance, and having paused a while: 'Well, Madam, since I can expect nothing from you, don't refuse my Brother, he adores you, he is a Person of Merit, do him Justice, make him your Husband; his Happiness will be my Comfort, and your Vertue will sufficiently secure him against the suspicion he might conceive in regard to the King.'

'Oh! my Lord, cry'd my Lady Devonshire, I can't pardon you this great Error in point of Nicety: No, the Marquess of Montague shall never have my Hand, no, nor the greatest Monarch of the Universe: That fatality which hinders me from joining yours with mine, shall not enforce me to accept of your Brother's; but once more, is it possible you shou'd be contented, I should become your Sister in Law?' Alas! Madam, reply'd the Earl, kissing her Hand against her Will, 'I know not what I would have; when you take away all hopes from me, I lose my Reason, and fall into such a degree of Despair, as wou'd move Compassion in any other Person but you. The Countess all in Tears, gave him some tender Looks; and both their Hearts were so far overcome with Grief, that they could not utter one Word for some time.' It was at last agreed betwixt them, she should re-assume her Disguise, the better to conceal herself, and suffer herself to be conducted in a Man's Apparel, by the Marquess of Montague, to that beforementioned stupendious subterraneous Palace the Earl of Warwick had built on purpose for her. The Earl did take his leave, but with the utmost Grief; he saw very well, he might flatter himself to be beloved, tho' he purchased this Happiness at a very excessive rate.

The Earl of Pembroke could think of no better way to find out the Countess of Devonshire's Retirement, than to have the Earl of Warwick dogg'd where ever he went; not questioning but that he would see her before he went into France. His faithful and dextrous Spies had been so watchful in their Employment, that about Midnight they came to tell him, that the Earl was gone into one of the most remote corners of the City, and that questionless 'twas thereabouts the Countess had fix'd her habitation. In the mean while the Earl of Warwick having taken his leave of the King, Embark'd for Calais, of which place he was Governour, having before hand given directions to the Marquess of Montague, what was to be done in his absence, and he might well rest assured of all his love, as long as the Interest of the Countess was concerned.

Accordingly the same Night he conducted her with two Waiting women, disguised all three in Mens habit, to this stupendious Vault, which for its beauty might challenge a preference to the most Magnificent Palace. The Countess was so much surprized thereat, that notwithstanding the trouble she was then under she could not forhear to admire the Rarities of the Marbles and Wainscotting, tho' all the precious Moveables were taken out before. There were several Closets or Retiring places, the Doors whereof were so artificially contrived, that no body but who was very well acquainted with it could open them. The Marquess shew'd the secret openings thereof to my Lady Devonshire, and fearing least she should forbid him to come to see her, if he continued to entertain her with his Passion, he chose rather to do so much violence to himself as to speak to her only with his Eyes. She had too great an Esteem for him to shew her self insensible to so rare and noble a Deportment, she defired him to be assured of her Esteem, and to visit her now and then, to comfort her in her Misfortunes.

At the same time the Earl of Pembroke persisting in his Resolution of giving the King an account of the Countess, had placed himself in Disguise also, not far from the before said Subterraneous place, when he saw the Marquess of Montague coming along with the Countess of Devonshire, whom he knew notwithstanding the darkness of the Night, and her Disguise, having seen her in the same Habit at Madam Digby's; but had she appear'd in another Dress, how was it possible for him to mistake her? That fatal Arrow which pierced his heart when he met her at Chelsea with the Countess of Oxford, I say that same Arrow remain'd still in his heart, with this difference only, that now he felt himself tormented only with the most cruel Jealousie that could be, that he lived without hopes, and that he acted like a Man who cared not what he did. He run straight to the King, and told him where my Lady Devonshire was lodged; and this Monarch seeing himself now freed from that respect he preserved for the Earl of Warwick, thought of nothing else than how to surprize an unhappy person, destitute of all Protection, and oppress'd by her Enemies. For this purpose he pitch'd upon a very dark Night, and took no body along with him, except the Earl of Pembroke, and the Chevalier de Herbert his Brother. Coming to the Entrance of the Vault, which they found not without much difficulty, they soon broke the Door. The noise thereof put the Countess and her Two Waiting-women to the utmost Consternation; and tho' they were all three shut up in one of these abstruse Closets, the Doors whereof were undiscoverable, yet they might easily understand all what was said, the Countess knowing both the King's and the Earl of Pembroke's voice. Having narrowly search'd all the Corners of the Place, they concluded she was gone from thence to another. 'Why would I delay coming hither? cry'd the King; I had certainly met with her here; where must I look for her now? The Earl of Pembroke told him, He should leave every thing to his care; Perhaps, said he, she is gone to try whether she can get beyond Sea; and when she finds she cannot, she will certainly come hither again. But, reply'd the King, when she finds the Doors broken, she will not think her self safe here, and will come to this place no more. All shall be repair'd before Day-break, continued Pembroke, your Majesty may confide in my care.'

The King would not go away without making a second Search, through the whole Vault; and passing by a Looking glass fixed within the Marble, he writ with his Diamond Ring the following words: Had I found her, Warwick should have seen her no more.

And seeing his stay would be useless in that place, he went away sorely vex'd to see himself thus disappointed in an attempt of this nature. The poor Countess was under no small Disturbance, what resolution to take; she found the King was gone, but heard the Earl of Pembroke's voice, who said to one that was with him: So soon as Day appears, you must fetch some Workmen to have the Doors mended; for my part, I will stay here till I have placed all my Spies in their proper Stations. The Countess of Devonshire seeing that if the Marquess of Montague should come thither, she should be found out by the Earl's Spies; or that if he should meet the Earl of Pembroke there, they would come to the utmost Extremities took a resolution, proceeding partly from Despair, partly from her natural Courage; this was to sally forth with her two Waiting-women with Swords drawn, and Pistols in hand, to open their way if the Earl of Pembroke should offer to stop them. They no sooner appear'd, but Pembroke and his Brother seeing their Swords glister, and not knowing who they were, advanced fiercely against the Countess; but she being careless of her life, threw her self so furiously upon the Earl, that she put his Life in danger. She wounded him with her Sword, and was going to second the blow, had she not perceived that he began to retreat without offering to fight any longer. In effect, he then knew her, and his Passion triumphing over all his other Resolutions, he would not fight nor stop her; and when the Chevalier Herbert drew near to revenge his Brother's Quarrel, he held him by the Arm: Thus the fair Countess opening her self a passage through her Enemies, left her Subterraneous dwelling place, and went to another, where she was assured of the Fidelity of her Friends.

'Twas next to an Impossibility the Earl of Pembroke should be Wounded, and the thing not be soon known at Court. The King being inform'd of all that pass'd by the Chevalier Herbert, was vex'd to the Soul, to have miss'd of the Place where the Countess of Devonshire lay concealed; and he could not forbear to be dissatisfy'd with the Earl of Pembroke and his Brother, because they did detain him no longer. On the other hand, Madam Gray was disturbed by a thousand suspicious thoughts on the King's account, which she found very hard to be convinced of; tho' she knew that the young Countess had still a considerable place in his heart, yet when she considered the Earl of Pembroke's Passion for her, this served to check the motion she had conceived of the King's being concern'd in this Nocturnal Adventure. There was not a word said at Court of the King, no more than of the Countess of Devonshire, the whole News run upon a Rencounter betwixt some Men, so that the matter seem'd plain enough to every body, but to her, who notwithstanding all these probable Appearances, could not get it out of her thoughts but that this Adventure concern'd chiefly the King and the Countess. The Marquess of Montague was in a worse condition than all the rest, he came to see his dear Countess, but found her not. What an Agony was he in, when he saw a long tract of Blood, some of the Moveables and the Doors broken to pieces! He could think no otherwise than that she had been carry'd away by force; he accused all the World with it, sometimes the King or Pembroke, sometimes the Countess's Enemies; his pain was unspeakable till he understood that the Earl of Pembroke had been Wounded. After all, this piece of News gave occasion to more Reflections. He that had Wounded him, must needs be the same person that came thither to persecute the Countess; and considering that he would be fool-hardy enough to venture upon such an Attempt, were it only in regard of the Earl of Warwick, the more he thought of the matter, the more he was confirm'd in his opinion, that the King was at the head of the Party; but what means was there to unfold this Riddle, it being uncertain whether my Lady Devonshire was at liberty or not?

The King needed to have acted with much more circumspection than actually he did, in an Affair of so peculiar a nature, to keep it from the knowledge of Madam Gray, who had many Creatures of her own, who made their Court to her at the expence of King Edward. She would lose no time to be further satisfy'd in the matter, but taking a Chair attended by a few only, went to the Place, where she found the Doors broke open, and entring with much precipitation, found the Marquess of Montague there, still busied in searching every corner of the place. They were equally surprized to meet one another here, for the Aversion that was betwixt Madam Gray and the Earl of Warwick having engaged the Marquess to adhere to his Brother's Interest, he never came to visit her. However the high Extraction of Jaqueline of Lunenburgh her Mother, and her Personal Vertues, as they challenged respect from every Body, so the Marquess fearing he might disturb her, was going to withdraw, when she desired him to stay. 'You may easily guess, my Lord, said she, there were certain strong motives that brought me hither, 'tis possible you may, if you please, satisfie me at once in what I desire to know. The whole question I have to ask is, Whether the Countess of Devonshire has been here? Yes, Madam, return'd the Marquess, 'tis most certain that she was here. Oh! cry'd she, I need doubt no more of what I suspected before. The King is unfaithful.' She had scarce spoken these words, but happening to cast her eyes upon the Looking-Glass where the King had written the following Line, Had I found her, Warwick should have seen her no more, she knew the Character to be the King's. At the same time it fell into her thoughts, that the King had written these words only to amuse the Curious, and to make them believe his design had miscarry'd; which served only to perswade her, that the Countess was in his power. I have seen enough, said she, to set my heart at rest. I came, added she, to Court with much reluctancy, and I shall leave it without pain. My Curiosity is satisfy'd, my Lord, I wish yours were so too. Having spoken these words, she went out of this Subterraneous Vault, leav•ng the Marquess in the greatest confusion of thoughts that could be. For there being no room to doubt but that it was the King who had forced open the Doors, he saw no hopes how the Countess could escape his Violences. So that let him look upon the thing from what side he would, he found nothing but what furnish'd him with sufficient matter of Affliction, even beyond what can be imagined. My Lady Devonshire was not so little concern'd for his satisfaction, as to suffer him to remain under these dreadful Apprehensions; but whom could she trust upon so nice a point? and not doubting but that she was betray'd before, she dreaded the same Fate a second time.

As for Madam Gray, she having taken a resolution not to dispute the matter any further with the King, but to avoid seeing him, order'd her Chair to turn straightways towards her Seat of Graston, with a resolution not to come near the Court, a place she look'd upon now as too dangerous for the Enjoyment of her Repose. The King coming to her Lodging, was surprized to find her to be gone abroad; but his surprize was much greater when within a few hours after he was told, she was met upon the Road, making all the haste she could from London. His Passion for the Countess of Devonshire at that time was forced to give way to that for the fair Widow. He sent for the Earl Rivers her Brother, 'You may serve me better upon this occasion than any other person, said he to him, very obligingly, because you being in love your self, are best able to judge what inquietudes I labour under on account of the departure of Madam Gray; I know not any reason she 〈◊〉 thus to leave me. Go, Earl, go, find her out, bring her back, and rest assured, that if you do me this good Office, I will give my Consent to what I 〈…〉 refused you. Oh! Sir, cry'd the Earl Rivers, throwing himself at his feet, is it possible your Majesty will give me permission to marry my dear Leonore? I dare scarce flatter my self so far; but, Sir, don't lessen the honour I shall have of obeying you, by a Reward to it; I shall think my self happy enough, if I can only Go immediately, continued the King, assure her of the entire possession of my heart, and that I am extreamly sensible of the indifferency she shews for me.

The Earl Rivers, transported with Joy at the King's promise in favour of his beloved Leonore, (who outlived the Poyson she had taken) mounted on Horseback immediately, and coming near to a spacious Wood, he saw in an adjacent Valley a good number of Horsemen riding so hard, that tho' he follow'd them at full speed, he could not possibly overtake them; but coming to Madam Gray's, was soon inform'd 'twas the King, who thought he ought not to entrust any body but himself to perswade his Mistress to return. And to speak the truth, he was endued with all the qualifications requisite to engage a heart. His Wit was not inferiour to his Person. He never spoke but what was attended with some peculiar Graces; and being both exceeding fair and sprightly, he far surpass'd all the rest at Court, except it were the Earl of Warwick, who had some advantages above him. He reproach'd Madam Gray, but with a thousand tender Expressions: Can you imagine, said he to her, I will break my word with you, after I have made such a step of sending away the Earl of Warwick under no less pretence than to treat of a Marriage betwixt the Princess of Savoy and me? Frun the hazard of disobliging King Lewis XI. who being daily sollicited by Henry and Margaret of Anjou to assist them with some Troops in order to make War against me, will doubtless soon hearken to their Proposals, after I have given him such an essential Cause of Complaint as this will prove; Notwithstanding all this, tho' I foresee the Consequences, nothing touches me but the satisfaction of seeing you in my Possession, and at that very Jancture I am preparing for that happy day, you leave me, Madam, and that without any cause. I will not Sir, reply'd she, justifie my Conduct either by Tears or a deep Melancholy; Your Majesty has made me hope for an Honour I thought so far above me, that I never would give my self leave to desire it, looking upon it as a thing impossible: But at last, when I saw the Earl of Warwick sent out of the way, I began to be more credulous, and should perhaps be in the same error still, were I not certain that your Majesty continues to be in love with the Countess of Devonshire 'Tis her you would snatch away from the Earl of Warwick, and not me, Sir, whom you intend to place on the Throne; I judged that upon so weighty an occasion I could do nothing more becoming the respect I owe you, and that Vertue I always profess'd, than to retreat to my Solitude, and there to lead, if possible, an agreeable and easie Life, without either pleasure or pain.

The King's Passion acquired new strength by the seeming reluctancy of the fair Widow. She was a Lady of a great share of Wit, Gracefulness and Conduct; she knew the weak side of Edward, and being resolved to make her Lover her Spouse, she carry'd the Point so far, as to make him abjure the Countess of Devonshire, Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, and all the rest he ever had any Passion for. This done, he brought her back triumphantly to London, and publickly declared his intention of marrying her.

Whatever had been told to the Dutchess of York the King's Mother upon this head, had made but very little impression upon her; and this made her look upon it as so odd a piece of News (when she first heard it) that she was resolved to be satisfied in it from the King's own mouth; when the King told her, His resolution was fix'd, and that nothing in the world should alter it, the Dutchess could not forbear bursting out into Tears, and into sharp expressions: As she was a very tender Mother, she foresaw with grief the ill consequences of so unequal a Match, and especially in what a heinous manner the King of France would resent the affront put upon his Sister in law▪ Who was it, Sir, said she, Who could perswade you to such an action, as the Earl of Warwick is now upon by your Order? I had a mind to send him out of the way, reply'd the King, and unless I did bestow an honourable Commission upon him, he would always have found som pretence or other to plague me here. The Dutchess lifted up her eyes to Heaven, like a person afflicted in the most sensible part of her Soul.

The King was no sooner gone, but she sent word to Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, to thwart the Match with all her Power, assuring her of her Protection. This young Lady being descended from an Illustrious House, the King fell in Love with her, whilst he was as yet Earl of March; and as nothing could be more dreadful to her than the loss of a Prince, who was so dear to her, she went to the Bishop of London to intreat him not to marry Edward, because he had promised to marry her; and the Dutchess of York having notice thereof, declared that her Son could not in point of Conscience marry Madam Groy. But the King dissatisfy'd with Mrs. Lucy, challenged her to make good her words, and she at last, either out of respect to the King, or because it was really so, confess'd she had loved that Prince without any prospect of being his Queen But, added she, as she was throwing her self at his feet, and bathing them with her Tears, If my passion for your Glory, Sir, did check me from wishing for any thing that might sully its lustre, at this time, now you are become so regardless of it your self as to intend to marry Madam Gray, will you not permit me to ask you to be preferr'd to her? I am inferiour to her in nothing, she is the Widow of a private Gentleman, upon whom her Heart had been bestow d before, so that your Majesty will have it at second hand: but as to my own, I gave it you without any other consideration, than because I loved you: You are the only person who has been Master of all my tenderness; take pity, Sir, of a young Woman whom you are going to render the most unfortunate person in the World. I request no more of you than not to suffer me to see my Rival upon the Throne; if you will place the Princess of Savoy there, I will submit to my Destiny without murmuring.

The King heard her without interrupting her, and then fetching a deep sigh; 'I am not of an ungrateful Temper, my dear Betty, said he, I will preserve an esteem for you as long as I live, and will give you most solid Proofs of it; but nothing in the world is able to alter the resolution I have taken of espousing Madam Gray.' 'Well, let us say no more of it then, cry'd Mrs. Lucy, you will never see me again, Sir, I bid you farewell for ever:' She had no sooner said these Words, but she went away, and retired into a Nunnery, there to conceal herself under a Religious Habit. Just as she was alighting out of her Chair, she was not a little surprized to see my Lord Stanley, who offer'd his Hand to her, he being just then coming back from visiting his Sister the Countess of Devonshire; who pursuant to her Mother the Countess of Anglesey's Command, was gone into the same Nunnery. My Lord had no sooner seen Mrs. Lucy's Livery, but he went out to meet her. 'Well, Madam, said he, are you to be our Queen? no body in the World deserves it better than yourself. Oh! my Lord, cry'd she, I am quire inconsolable, the King is become ungrateful to me; I am resolved to keep myself concealed from the World, for the remainder of my Life, and come here to find a safe retreat.'

'Before you enter into the Nunnery, said he, I beg a moment or two to discourse with you;' so going into a spacious Dining-room, where there was no other Company near them, 'The Passion I have for you, said he, has render'd me hitherto the most unfortunate of all Men living. Knowing the King's Sentiments for you, and yours for him, I had nothing else to do, but to suffer, and say nothing, but loved you nevertheless. Madam, pray remember the Danger I exposed my self to, to preserve your Life, when one day being a Hunting, a terrible Stag, after having made several Persons Victims of his Fury, was making directly at you: I should scarce have given myself the trouble to save Edward's Mistress, had it not been my own particular Concern. 'Twas in vain for me to consider you were under strict Engagements with him, and upon that score to call all my Reason to my Aid; my Heart would always let you triumph over it, and without your Knowledge, I have often pleaded in your behalf, against myself. At this time, now the Scene is quite altered, and that you are resolved to bury yourself in this House, only out of Spite and Chagrin, methinks I may make you sensible of the Danger into which you are going to precipitate yourself; for to live at ones ease in a Retirement, we ought to have other Motives to bring us hither, than what proceeds from Spleen and Anger; as soon as these are over, you will regret the Loss of the World, you will be tired, you will dislike it, and you will grow Desperate. I dare propose to you a much better Conveniency; let us unite, Madam, our Destinies by an undissolvable Knot; I have a high esteem for you.'

Oh! My Lord, cry'd she interrupting him, durst I flatter myself with such Hopes, you shou'd have my Hand, together with my entire Inclinations; but I believe I had better pass away the remainder of my Days in a Nunnery, than to run the hazard of being slighted. To be short, my Lord gave her all the Promises, and confirm'd them by all the Oaths he could think of; and Mrs. Lucy resolved rather to take his Word, than turn Nun; so she return'd to London, and was marry'd to my Lord Stanley, against the consent of the Earl of Anglesey, who nevertheless, soon after pardon'd his Son, and took them both into his House; where Mrs. Lucy, by her modest Deportment, soon blotted out the remembrance of 〈◊〉 former Frailty for the King.

The Dutchess of York, who had flatter'd her ••lf hitherto, that this young Mistress might re ••ve the King's Passion for her, and that in the •ean time the Earl of Warwick might have an •pportunity of obtaining a positive Answer from ••e King of France, was highly afflicted to see his Project miscarry; this made her willingly second the Petition of the Lord Mayor of Lon •on, wherein he, attended by a great Number of Persons of Quality, humbly represented to the King, the Inconveniencies that were likely to •ttend so unequal a Match, to the great Detrimnent of his Glory: But Edward was offended •hereat, and told them, That an amiable and vir •uous Woman ought to be preferr'd to one of a higher Rank: However, this engaged him to write to the Earl of Charolois, Son of the Duke of Burgundy, to desire him to send over into England some of the nearest Relations of Madam Gray, in hopes that their appearance might imprint a Respect in the English for her Person, according to her Demerits. The Earl of Charolois overjoy'd to see his Marriage with the Princess of Savoy come to nothing, which hitherto had made him not a little uneasie, by reason of the Alliance to be contracted betwixt King Lewis XI. (a mortal Enemy to the House of Burgundy) and Edward, did not fail to send James of Luxenburgh, Earl of S. Pol, and Uncle to the fair Widow, attended by a great Number of great Lords, and a hundred Knights, most magnificently equipp'd, to assist at the solemnity of the Nuptials. The Fame of their Names, and the richness and beauty of their Equipage, served to stop the Mouths of all that had exclaim'd against the Match before; so that the King espoused Madam Gray in publick, under the joyful Acclamations of the People, who were much taken with the Sumptuous Preparations and Appearance of the Feast, contrived so on purpose, by the King's Orders. The Earl of St Pol, being upon his D•parture for his own Country, was presented by the King with a Chain, valued at three Hundred Nobles, and each of the Knights of his Company with one of Fifty Nobles. He desired him to assure the Earl of Charolois of his entire Friendship, and as a token thereof, made him a Knight of the Garter, sending the Collar to him by the said Earl of S. Pol, and engaging his Word to send him some of his best Troops.

The Earl Rivers was too sensibly 〈◊〉 with the Merits and Beauty of Leonore 〈◊〉, to neglect this opportunity of desiring the Kings consent to Marry her.

You have been pleas'd to flatter me, Sir, said he, that your Majesty would not oppose my Happiness; and I hope, that after the Honour you have done us, of placing my Sister upon the Throne, I may, without being presumptuous, desire 〈◊〉 favour at your Hands. Were it for your advantage, reply'd the King, I should be overjoy'd 〈◊〉: But do you consider, that by marrying Leonore you will neither improve your Estate nor 〈◊〉? What occasion have I for it, Sir? return'd the Earl; having the Honour to be ally'd to you, it seems to me, I ought to look for nothing more than how to satisfie my Passion; and I know no greater Satisfaction in the world, than to have a Wife worthy of being beloved. But all this without a good Fortune, added the King, makes us often lead but an indifferent Life; for how often happens it, that Love ceases? and then you will find an Estate much more convenient than Love. I am too much in Love, Sir, said the Earl, to ima ••ne I shall ever repent of having espoused Leo ••re; on the contrary, in having her, I believe I •ill have every thing; and without her I shall not be sensible of any Enjoyments: Yes, Sir, I shall be always rich, if she is my Wife, and always poor, if she be not. Well then, said the King, pursue the Motions of so tender a Passion, I should be unjust to disturb it, at the same time when I sacrifice every thing to my own.

The Earl Rivers transported with joy, threw himself at the King's feet, returning him hearty Thanks, in such terms as he thought most proper to make this Monarch sensible of his Acknowledgement; begging of him to obtain also the Queens consent; which being done by King Edward's Intercession, she told her Brother the next Day, she should be well pleased to see his dear Leonore; that her only aim was to render him Happy; and that had he left it to her D•sposal, she would have taken care to make him so; but that after all, she would constrain him to nothing. The Earl told her, That if he were Master of the Universe, he should be less pleased with it, than in the possession of his Mistress; and that his Fortune could not he ill, as long as he shared it with so amiable a Person.

He now lost no time to go to Madam Digby's, his Equipage being very Sumptuous, according to the Rank he bore at Court. Leonore, who had heard nothing as yet of the King's Marriage with Madam Gray, could not imagine from whence proceeded so great an Alteration; but her surprize was much greater, when he presented to her the Jewels and rich Apparel sent her by the new Queen. He gave her an account of the whole Affair, and told her, he was come to conjure her to abandon this melancholy Solitude, to justifie his Choice at London.

The whole Family, and even herself, at first, thought he had been Frenzical; they could not comprehend immediately, so surprizing a change of Fortune; to see a young Country Gentlewoman, born and bred in the Country, at one stroak of Fortune to become Sister-in-Law to the King of England, and to be transplanted into one of the finest Courts of Europe. However, Leonore being a young Lady of a considerable share of natural Wit and Sense, there needed no great trouble to teach her her Lesson. She heartily loved the Earl Rivers, and was very sensible of what he had done for her: So he conducted her to Court, where the Nuptials were celebrated with no less Magnificency than if she had been a Princess.

Whilst these things were transacting at London (where the Marquess of Montague did not appear at any of these publick Feasts) the Earl of Warwick, who had brought the Negotiation of the Marriage betwixt King Edward and Bona Princess of Savoy, to a good issue in France, had notice sent him several times, by his Brothers, of what pass'd at Court; but would give no Credit to it: For the King's Conduct in this Affair being so irregular, and he having a much better opinion of his Understanding, he chose rather to call in question the sincerity of his Friends who sent him the News, than the King's Conduct, till he was convinced of the Truth thereof by the King of France's own Mouth. This Prince being one of the greatest Politicians in the World, conceal'd his Resentment, and coldly told the Earl, There were certain Faults, by which those that committed them were more effectually punish'd, than those against whom they were committed. Had the King, your Ma ••er, added he, chosen another Princess before my •ister in Law, I should have shewn my Resentment •pon such an account; but now the whole Questi •• is concerning a private Gentlewoman who •ad been his Subject, who has nothing to give him, •ut to satisfie his Passion, I assure you, my Lord •mbassador, I am very well satisfy'd. Oh! Sir, ••y'd the Earl, I beg of your Majesty not to give •…e the Title of an Ambassador, I will never •erve a King in that station, who breaks his Word. He found, that if he should go on, he •hould be apt to discover too far his Resentment, ••y he said no more, for fear the King, who was •ne of the most refined Princes in the World, if •e should dive into his real Sentiments, should •mprove it to his own Advantage.

He was no sooner come out of the Audience Chamber, but the Queen sent word she desired to •peak with him: He found her in Company with the Princess of Savoy, both transported with Anger. Tell your Master, said the Queen, •e shall send us the Picture of my Sister; he is •nworthy both of the Original, and of the Copy. The Princess looking stedfastly upon the Ambassador, You bear (said she) a share in the Affront •ut upon me, as well as myself; perhaps I should not have put the least Confidence in what has been proposed to me, had it come from any other but the Earl of Warwick; I should have made due reflection upon the fickle temper of the King of England, but my Lord 'twas your Name that made me put my confidence in the Proposals made to us; then remember in what manner they treat us, and if you have any Power, make use of it to revenge our Wrong. Madam, reply'd the Earl, after this I dare promise you nothing; but time will convince you whether I know how to resent an Injury done to your Highness and myself.

His impatience to return to London was too great, and the part he had acted in Paris too disagreeable to stay there any longer. He left that City, altogether taken up with the Thoughts of what had happened in England to Madam Gray: There being a mutual Aversion betwixt them, he could not promise himself for the future, ary considerable share in the King's Favour, and the Honour he had done him, in putting him upon the Negotiation of a Marriage he intended not to perform, seem'd so cruel an Affront to him, that he thought no Revenge beyond his Resentment. He being not, as yet, acquainted with what had happened to my Lady Devonshire, he hoped to find her in her subtenaneous Lodgings; and if there was any thing that could allay his dissatisfaction, it was the pleasure he proposed to himself of seeing again the only Person he lov'd best in the World. As he came nearer to London, he understood that the publick Rejoicings continu'd, that Anthony, Sirnamed the Bastard, had pass'd the Sea so strongly guarded, that two Privateers, who pretended to take him, were taken, with a great Booty, and the rest forced to sheer off. This being one of the most brave, and gallant Knights of his Age. Charles Earl of Charolois, highly satisfy'd with those Marks of his Friendship Edward had transmitted to him by the Earl of S. Pol, and judging if of the greatest Consequence to enter into a more strict Correspondence with this Monarch, to withdraw him from the League proposed to him by King Lewis XI. against the Duke of Burgundy his Father, charged his Natural Brother with a Commission to sound King Edward's Inclinations concerning a Marriage with Margaret of York his Sister. He could not have entrusted so weighty 〈◊〉 Affair into better Hands; for upon his Arrival, the Tournaments and other such like Exercises were renew'd: The Lord Descalles, Brother-〈◊〉-Law to the new Queen, was to engage him; a Day being appointed for that purpose.

The Earl of Warwick being inform'd of all this upon the Road, went not directly to London, but took the way to Sion-hill, with so much secrecy, that even the Marquess of Montague knew nothing of it. The Earl of Warwick order'd Berincour to get him a black Armour, and to cause to be painted on his Shield an Arm extended, striking a Thunderbolt at a Crown, with this Inscription, Thus the Gods revenge themselves; his Plume, Scarf, and the Trappings of his Horse were of a light red, to signifie his Anger; and to make the World believe he was still upon the Road, he had it given out he was fal'n ill by the way.

He left Sion-hill, attended only by Berincour, both with the Vizors of their Helmets down; and as they were riding with an easie Pace towards London, saw a Knight cross the Road, whose Armour being very like the Earl's, they had the Curiosity of taking particular notice of him, and casting their Eyes upon his Borialer found these Words there: Never did Eyes behold so fair a Lady. This Inscription seem'd too nearly to reflect upon the Countess of Devonshire's Charms, for the Earl of Warwick to let him pass by without opposition. Knight, said he to the unknown, whoever you are, you give your Opinion with too much Presumption for the Lady you think so handsom; and I can assure you, I know one that's beyond her. It seems to me as if you judged with more rashness than I, reply'd the Knight; but I am so well satisfy'd in my assertion, that I am sure you will be of the same Opinion, so soon as you have seen her Picture; if you can deny it after that, look here, said he, pointing to his Sword, this shall make you own it to be so. Thy Threats don't frighten me, reply'd the Earl with a Smile, let us see this Picture, and at the same time prepare for Fighting. The unknown, without returning an Answer, drew out a long Chain of Gold, on which was fastned a magnificent Case, richly set with Diamonds, and in it the Picture of the Countess of Devonshire. The Earl of Warwick's surprize at the sight thereof, was beyond what can be imagined, he fetch'd a deep lamentable sigh, and for some time remained like a Man bereaved of his Senses; but on a sudden recovering himself, No, said he, I don't dispute the Beauty of this Lady to be surpassing all others; but I will maintain that you are unworthy of so precious a pledge of her Friendship. Having spoken these Words, he was going to take a Launce Berincour held in his Hand, whilst the unknown affronted at these Words, was preparing to attack him: But Berincour, who observed every thing in cool Blood, happening to know the Case wherein was the Countesses Picture, because he had been employ'd in having it made, did not question but that this Knight was the Marquess of Mon¦tague.

Oh! my Lord, said he to his Master, keeping the Launce back, 'tis my Lord, your Brother look upon him with attention, and you will know him as well as I do. The Earl of Warwick finding it was him, beckned him with his Hand▪ that before they began the Combat, he would speak to him: And why Brother, said he, shoul• we turn our Weapons against one another, which ought to be employ'd against our common Enemies▪ and so he lifted up his Vizor. The Marquess almost distracted at what had happened, threw himself from his Horse; and the Earl alighting likewise, went to meet him with open Arms. And are you here, my Lord, cry'd the Marquess, and would not let me know it? What have I done to you? Don't charge me with Indifferency, reply'd the Earl, you know how dearly I love you: But understanding that there are to be certain Courses and Tournaments, wherein the Queens Knights are to make their appearance, I had a desire to be there incognito, to maintain the Beauty of the Countess of Devonshire surpasses hers; in hopes to draw the King into the Quarrel, to give him a proof of the strength of my Arm. I thought it not fit to bring you in for a share, because I would not interrupt your Application to serve the Countess. The Marquess lifting up his Eyes to Heaven: Oh! my Lord, said he, you know but one part of what occasion of Complaint Edward has given us.

They seated themselves under some Trees, where seeing themselves at full liberty to entertain one another, the Marquess related to his Brother the carrying away by force, of the Countess, with all the Circumstances relating to this unhappy Accident. You see, continued he, this black Armour, it relates to the Countess; I went with the same Design as you do, to break a La•nce with the King, and the worthless Pembroke, if his Wounds he received there are cured; truly I expected your coming with much impatience, in order to act in concert against our common Enemies, for our mutual Satisfaction. Whilst the Marquess was talking, the Earl had a thousand direful Projects in his Head, which gave him no liberty •o speak; at last recovering himself, he began •o call Heaven and Earth to witness, that he would revenge himself in such a manner as never any Subject was known to have done before. Can he be thus ungrateful (cry'd he) unto whom he is bebolden for the Crown of England? I did not only put it upon his Head, but also have kept it steddy there: In return whereof, he puts two such Bloody Affronts upon me, such as he ought not to have put upon an Enemy. Let us go, Brother, to the Tournament; if he appears in the List, let's join our strength to attack him; and provided we die not unrevenged, never let us regret our Destiny.

'No, my Lord, said the Marquess, let us not run the hazard of so much odds against us, we may maintain against the Queens Knights, so that she cannot challenge the Prize of being the greatest Beauty; and if the King appears among them, we will spare him no more than the rest; 'tis requisite great Designs should not be undertaken without long and most serious Considerations.'

The Earl being well satisfy'd with his Brother's Advice, they both mounted on Horse-back, and appear'd at the List, just as the Queen, attended by a numerous Court, was placing herself in a Balcony covered with rich Tapestry, and gold brocaded Stuffs; whilst the Earl of Warwick and the Marquess of Montague casting their Eyes upon her, found such an Emotion within themselves, as they were scarce able to keep within due bounds

The Earl Rivers, my Lord Hastings Duke of Exeter, my Lord High Chamberlain, my Lord Descalles the Queens Brother in Law, John Earl of Oxford, John de Moubray, Duke of Norfolk and Humphrey Duke of Buckingham, had taken their Stations along the Barriers, expecting the coming of the Bastard of Burgundy, with his young Nobility. But whilst they stay'd for their Company, the Earl of Warwick and his Brother sent a Herauld to bid defiance to my Lord Descalles and the Earl Rivers; offering they were ready to maintain, that the Queens Beauty, and all the Ladies at Court, was not comparable to that of the Lady they serv'd. So disobliging a Defiance surprized the Herald no less than all the Knights I mention'd before; and the News thereof being soon brought to the King and Queen, they blush'd for spite, saying, 'They must be very impolite Persons, who would affront so many Ladies:' However, the right of freedom being inviolable, especially at such like publick Feasts, it was not judged proper to make use of any violent means against these Knights; besides that, there appeared a certain Grandeur in all their Actions, as caused a Respect in all those that beheld them. The Queen order'd the Earl Rivers to be call'd: 'Brother, said shewith a great deal of Modesty, were I alone concern'd in this Defiance, I would not advise you to espouse so bad a Cause; but your own Wife and so many other fair and charming Persons having their share in the Challenge, you ought to undertake it with Resolution and Courage, as for the Conditions, I leave them to your own Discretion.' 'Madam, said the King interrupting her, No body is better able to do it than myself; I will espouse the Quarrel of that Beauty I adore; the Earl Rivers shall be my second.' 'No, Sir, cry'd the Queen, endeavouring to keep him back, I beg of you by all that is good, to remain only a Spectator, and let it fall out as it will, I shall be well satisfied with the Honour your Majesty intended to do me.' The King had not patience enough to mind what she said, but taking his Armourentred the List. So soon as he appear'd, the Barriers were opened, under the Sound of Trumpets and other War-like Instruments, which resounded from all Parts; and the King having not, as yet, mounted his Horse, the Earl of Warwick and the Marquess of Montague alighted from their Horses likewise, and drawing nearer, 'Knights said the King, you come to my Court to maintain the Beauty of an unknown Lady, against that of the Queen and her Ladies. 'Tis possible, that either out of Complaisance, or to do the Lady Justice, the point might be granted you, if one could see her; but who is able to decide it?' 'You yourself, Sir, said the Earl of Warwick, casting such ••oks at him, as were more piercing than Lightning itself, I am apt to believe you have not forgot her; and then shew'd him the Countess of Devonshire's Pi¦cture. The King was so surprized and cha•••…d at the sight thereof, that he remain'd doub•••… for some time, whether he should continue to defend the Queens Beauty, or join with the Knights on the Countesses side: Sometimes he look'd upon the Picture, sometimes upon 〈◊〉 two unknown; and considering the whole, he could not but guess the Earl of Warwick to have a hand in the Game, so bold an Action as this could not be well attributed to any other Person but himself. 'I doubt, said he, whether the Lady whose Picture you shew, would own you for her Knights, if she know what use you made of it; she bears too much Respect to the Queen, and is too polite a Person, to insult her and all other Ladies Beauty. I have said nothing in her Name Sir, reply'd the Earl fier•ly, but I come to ask whether you will declare against her? I should be very vnwilling to do so, were it upon any other Occasion but this, said the King; but as the Case stands, I am resolved I will, prepare for your Defence, we will break each of us three Launces, and he that gets the Honour of the Combat shall carry off the Picture of the vanquish'd Lady. This is not sufficient for us, Sir, reply'd the Earl of Warwick; we must carry off more than one Picture to the Lady whose Knights we are, and therefore humbly desire your Majesty, that all those that appear in Arms there, at the Barriers, may enagage against us; if they are vanquish'd, they are to give us the Pictures of their Ladies; if we are, we will give them that of ours.' The King beckned them to draw near, being unwilling to answer for them before he had spoke to them, but they were all ready to accept the offer. Every one had a Picture about him, some of their Wives, some of their Mistresses. The King was the first who put the Queens Picture upon a Triumphal Arch, erected in one of the Corners of the Barrier. The Earl Rivers also set up that of his, Leonore Digby, and all the rest produced their Pictures in golden Cases.

The first Tryal of Skill was made betwixt the King and the Earl of Warwick, and betwixt the Marquess of Montague and the Earl Rivers, under a thousand joyful Acclamations of the Spectators, who were surprized at the goodly Mien and the Skill those four Combatants shew'd on Horse-back. But it was not long before the Scene was altered; for in spite of all the King's Dexterity, the Earl of Warwick, animated with Revenge, soon got the better of him.

The Queen and all her Ladies could not see this ill Success, but with the utmost Dissatisfaction, and had it been in their Power to play an ill Game, they would perhaps not have been spaing in it at this Juncture. To be short, the Earl and his Brother gained all the honour of the Combat, but would not take the Queen's Picture, which by most was supposed to be done out of respect, without considering it might be out of an Aversion to her person. As for her own part, she knew very well the reason of it; she had discovered her particular Enemy in the person of the Kninht with the Black Armour, and the Device painted on his Shield served her for an Interpreter of his Actions. The King and the Earl Rivers went out of the List much vex'd at their ill Success; tho' the rest who engaged with the Earl of Warwick, and the Marquess of Montague, met with no better fortune.

They lost every one his Picture, but the Victorious Knights would not take all the advantage they might have done, they return'd to the Knights their Pictures, without so much as opening the Cases to look upon them, except those belonging to the Duke of Exeter and the Earl of Oxford, their Brothers-in-law, whose Pictures they carry'd away. In the mean time the Bastard of Burgundy being advanced to the Barriers, had been a Spectator of the Dexterity of the two brave unknown to his great admiration; this made him ask permission of the Princess of York to maintain her Beauty against them; but she refused to consent to it, finding by what she had seen already that her Picture would meet with the same Fate as all the rest had done. She told him with a great deal of modesty, She was not ambitious, and desired him to remember that he being her Knight, was to engage with my Lord Descalles. These few words being received by the Burgundian with the utmost respect, he broke several Launces in honour of the Princess, and his Knights shew'd their utmost Dexterity against the English; but nothing was per ••rm'd on either side, that could come in compe ••tion with the Atchievements of the Earl of Warwick.

He had taken the first Opportunity to get away with his Brother, with so much diligence, that the King had no time to send some body to follow them; and the Queen was in so ill an humour, that under pretence of finding her self not very well, she left the Company, to give vent to her spite and rage. It being not long before the King came to see her, Oh! Sir, said she, you need not doubt, but that that Presumptuous Person who engaged with you was the Earl of Warwick; I know him better by his design of affronting me, than by his Air and Device. Madam, reply'd the King, he is disgusted at his late Journey into France, and 'tis possible if he had those who would second him, he would endeavour to cause me some trouble; but Henry's Party is reduced to so low an Ebb, that it is almost doubtful now, whether there ever were such a thing as the House of Lancaster in the World.

The Earl of Warwick and his Brother went back to Sion hill, from whence they first dispatch'd Berincour to old Albine, to find out and talk with her in private: For as she still lived with the Countess of Anglesey, so he hoped by her means to hear some News of the Countess of Devonshire. So soon as he was gone, the Earl and the Marquess opened the two Picture-Cases they had carry'd off as Victors; great was their surprize when they found the Countess of Devonshire's Picture in that of the Earl of Oxford's. I must needs own to you, said the Earl, shewing the Picture to the Marquess of Montague, that I did not approve of my Sisters Jealousie against her Husband, but now find she was not in the wrong. How is it possible, my Lady Devonshire should have so much regard to the Earl of Oxford, as to bestow such a Pledge upon him? How unfortunate am I? answered the Marquess of Montague, I will do her more justice than you. Questionless the Earl of Oxford has got this Picture without her knowledge, in the same manner as I obtained mine, which was likely to have occasioned a Duel betwixt us. Oh! Brother, what comfort you give me! I must now confess to you, that never any thing went more near me than the sight of her Picture in your hands. I would not be inquisitive, for fear of discomposing you by my Curiosity; but I can't forbear to tell you, I have been very jealous upon that account. Alas! My Lord, what need you fear? reply'd the Marquess with a melancholy Air, don't you know you are beloved? He said no more, but remained very pensive. Do you look upon my present Condition, said the Earl, as to be envy'd by any? don't you know what treatment I meet with? All my hopes are vanish'd, by my having fought and kill'd her Husband. Had he kill'd me, I had been much happier than I am now, for there is no torment comparable to mine. The Marquess lifted up his Eyes towards Heaven, as if he would say, He had more cause of Complaint than he. After a few moments silence, the Earl ask'd the Marquess's advice, How he had best to carry on matters at Court? I advise you, said he to him, to make your Appearance there, to remove all manner of suspicion, which will enable you the better to take your own measures. I shall regulate my Conduct, reply'd my Lord Warwick, in a great measure according to what News I shall receive of your dear Countess, and therefore will stay two days longer at Sion-hill before I go to London; which the Marquess approved of.

He expected with the utmost impatience the return of Berincour, when he happened to come back, and delivered to him a Letter from my Lady Devonshire. He received it with an unexpressible satisfaction, and opening it read the following words:

I value your Esteem at too high a rate, to hazard the loss of it by a silence which might make you imagine that the King has carry'd me away, and that I am in his hands. You will understand what it was that saved me, by the same person who is intrusted to give you an account of my present condition; she is to desire you from me not to think of seeing me any more; it being absolutely requisite it should be so, for my Glory and Repose.

The Earl of Warwick gave the Billet to the Marquess to peruse it, who told him, I must confess to you, my Lord, I was in a most terrible fear, since almost nothing less than a miracle could secure the Countess from the danger she was in. Relate to us the Particulars, continued the Marquess, addressing himself to Berincour. My Lord, said the Gentleman, I saw Albine, she made at first a thousand difficulties to speak with any freedom concerning the Countess of Devonshire; but knowing her Mercenary Temper, I 〈◊〉 her, that I had a very fine Ring made for her on purpose in France, which I intended to present her with. This revived her former Confidence. Could I suppose, said she to him, you would marry me, and that this Ring was to be the Pledge of your Faith, I would accept it with pleasure; but I am sure you have been so taken up with your Master's Business, that you have thought but little of me; and when I see my self thus used, I have no more to say to you. I promised every thing she would have me to do, continued Berincour, and understood that my Lady Devonshire was in one of the most abstruse Closets in the Vault when the King and the Earl of Pembroke came thither. They put her into a most terrible fright whilst they were searching for her, till the King being gone, and the Earl of Pembroke staying behind, she (moved by Despair) unexpectedly sallied out in her Man's habit, and with Sword and Pistol in hand having opened her self a passage, went to an old Friend of their Family. There reflecting upon the danger she had so lately escaped, she took a Resolution of seeing her Brother, and by his means 〈◊〉 endeavour to find a safe Refuge in her own Family.

My Lord Stanley dearly loved his Sister, and had been much concern'd at her misfortune, and if the Earl and Countess of Anglesey should continue in their Anger against their Daughter, they must needs expect to see her exposed to most hazardous Accidents. My Lord Stanley knew how to represent this Point to them in such tender and pressing terms, that at last they agreed to receive and protect her against all her Enemies, provided she would for the future follow their advice, never see the Earl of Warwick again, and retire into a Religious House, as long as they should think convenient. My Lord Stanley was so desirous to see his Sister at rest, that he accepted of all the Conditions imposed upon her by the Countess of Anglesey. And the Countess of Devonshire willing to comply with them, threw her self at her Mother's feet, and regain'd that tenderness which she had lost by her misfortunes. She is, continued Albine, in an Abbey, where I can't let you see her, but I will speak to her to morrow concerning the Earl of Warwick. Accordingly she brought me the Billet to my Lord, I just now delivered to you, and told me, that my Lady Devonshire conjures you not to take the least step in order to come near her; there being nothing in the World more opposite to her intention. Well then, cry'd the Earl, (interrupting Berincour) the Countess had at last the good fortune to escape the King's and his worthless Favourites hands. I bebegin to breath a little, for I must own to you, Brother, I was very ingenious in tormenting my self. A secret Jealousie I was not able to master, did gnaw my heart, and cast me into an Abyss of Melancholy thoughts. My sufferings are beyond yours, my Lord, reply'd the Marquess, for I was so dextrous in fancying something so cruel in this Adventure, as rendred me quite inconsolaable. The Earl return'd no answer to his Brother, but after a few minutes Silence it was agreed betwixt them that they would go to Court the next day.

The Earl of Warwick was not a little put to it to conceal his Resentment from the King, by him he was received with much coldness: For the Queen, vex'd to the heart at what had happened at the Tournament, and not questioning but that these two unknown were the Earl of Warwick and the Marquess of Montague, had been continually exasperating the King against them.

'Twas done, Sir, said she to him, in defyance to you, and to expose your Choice, when they set up the Beauty of the Countess of Devonshire against me. The King most tenderly lo¦ved the Queen, and was not well pleased with the Earl of Warwick's having got so much the better of him at the Tournament: so that instead of endeavouring a favourable Reception, to make him forget the affront he had put upon him, in preferring Isabella Woodville to the Princess of Savoy, that the furnish'd fresh matter of Complaint to the Earl, who now took a resolution to revenge himself by the utter destruction of the same Monrach he had placed on the Throne. The better to encompass this design, he entred into a strict Friendship with the Duke of Clarence, one of the King's Brothers, who marry'd one of his Daughters, who was very young, but the richest Heiress in England. The Marriage was consummated at Calais, whilst the Archbishop of York and the Marquess of Montague did their utmost efforts to strengthen their Party in England.

The Earl of Warwick after his return from Calais raised a good Army, directing his March straight to London, with a design to Depose Edward, and place Henry on the Throne again. Edward was not a little surprized at this unexpected News; for tho' he was one of the b••…¦vest Princes in the World, he was apt to indulge himself too much in the enjoyment of his Pleasures; trusting to his good Fortune, which hitherto had made him Triumph over all his Enemies. But now finding the danger at hand, he ordered the Earl of Pembroke to draw together with all possible speed, what Troops he could, and to march against the rebels. The Earl was very well pleased with this Commission, for he could not forgive the Earl of Warwick, to have a better share in the Countess of Devonshire's heart than himself; he made Richard Herbert his Brother General under him; and when the Earl of Warwick understood he was to fight against them, this serv'd only to augment his Hatred and Emulation; a thousand brave Actions pass'd betwixt them, (recorded in History) till at last a Battel was fought near Bambridge, wherein the Earl of Warwick's Forces were upon the point of turning their backs, when John Clapam, an old brave Souldier and faithful Servant to that Family, putting himself at the head of 500 or 600 Northampton Men, carrying a white Bear, (being the Earl's Arms) in their Banners, returning to the Charge with a loud Huzza, crying, Long live Warwick, put the King's Army into such a Consternation, that they betook themselves to flight. The Earl of Pembroke and his Brother, unwilling to survive this Disgrace fought it out to the last Man, and were both taken Prisoners by the Victorious Enemy. The same misfortune attended the Earl Rivers. The Countess Rivers, who had an infinite deal both of tenderness and and acknowledgment for him, could not be at ease all the time of his absence, dreading the various Chances of War; but when she heard he was taken Prisoner, she was upon the point of running distracted. King Edward had used his Prisoners so rigorously, and the Execution of Henry Duke of Somerset was as yet in so fresh a remembrance, that she did not question but that her Husband would be sacrificed to what they call Reason of State, and to the Personal Aversion betwixt the Queen and the Earl; she could think of no better expedient to shelter her self against this impending Storm, than to have recourse to the Authority of the Countess of Devonshire. She went to her in the Nunnery where she then was: 'Alas! Madam, said she to her, you see here before you the unfortunate Leonore, who is come to implore your Compassion in behalf of the Earl Rivers. He is in the hands of the Earl of Warwick, and 'tis fear'd he will accept of no Ransome for his Prisoners. Judge what a condition I am in, I conjure you to use your Intercession for the preservation of a person who is guilty of no other Crime than of having served his King, and being the Queen's Brother. Secure his Life against that dreadful stroke that threatens it; and in asking you his, I ask you my own Life. Madam, won't you make use of your Interest? Have you forgot, that had it not been for me, Jamy had been sacrificed to the jealousie of that ill favoured Digby? I am sensible, Madam, reply'd the Countess, how much I am indebted to you, and embracing her tenderly, you need not, said she, urge such motives of Gratitude, to engage me to do all that is in my power; Let us not lose one moment, Madam, for in such like cases every minute is precious.' She then writ a Letter to the Earl of Warwick, the most engaging she ever sent to him, and giving it to the Countess of Rivers, advised her not to lose one moment.

The Countess sent the swiftest Courier she could find out, but by the highest of misfortune he arrived at that very moment when the Earl's Head was just lopp'd off. My Lady Devonshire's Request having the force of an irresistible Command with the Earl of Warwick, he run straight to the Tent where this Illustrious Prisoner was kept under a Guard: 'You are obliged for every thing, my Lord, to the Countess of Devonshire, said the Earl, as he was just upon entring the Tent, she orders me to give you your Liberty, enjoy the good Fortune she has bestow'd upon you.' The Earl not appearing, and those that heard him speak fearing they had been too hasty in his Execution, no body durst say one word, but they judged by their silence that it was too late. He was grieved to the heart, this being the only favour the Countess of Devonshire ever ask'd him, and which was in his power to grant; lifting up his eyes towards Heaven, 'How unfortunate am I, cry'd he! All the unhappy Accidents centre in me. O Barbarous Laws of an irreconcilable War, which makes us forget the very Notions of Humanity! what excess don't you constrain me to commit?' His heart being full of affliction, he writ a Letter to the Countess of Devonshire in his justification, in not having been able to obey her Commands.

In the mean while the Countess Rivers impatient to see her dear Spouse, follow'd the Express as fast as she could, when she met him upon the Road coming back, like a Man struck dumb with consternation, neither had she any great occasion to ask him, concerning the fatal Catastrophe of her Husband; a certain Heartach, with a thousand other Melancholy thoughts, foretold her what she feared to hear; she made such doleful cries and lamentations as would have touch'd the very Rocks that were near her; she talk'd of nothing but of precipitating her self from the top to the bottom, and those that attended her had much ado to divert her from that Resolution: 'Why should you, said she, hinder me from following him, who loved me to so high a degree, and whom I loved so dearly? He would not live without me, and should I be so ungrateful as to live without him? And if I would, alas! is it in my power so to do?' Her Attendants took care to carry her to an Abbey at no great distance from the place where they then were, which she would never leave afterwards, looking upon this as the most proper place, that might afford her the doleful consolation of bewailing what she had so tenderly loved, for the remainder of her life.

The Earl of Pembroke and his Brother Richard Herbert, both the Earl of Warwick's Prisoners, being also condemned by him to lose their Heads, the Earl of Pembroke desired to speak with him; ''Tis not, said he to him, to ask you my life I wanted to see you, I should be vex'd to owe you so great an Obligation, and thereby to diminish in the least the hatred I bear you; but, my Lord, what is it my Brother had done? Has he been the cause of our being Rivals? His Youth, his Courage, his Birth, every thing intercedes with you in his behalf. Am not I a Victim sufficient to allay your revenge? I shall have nothing to reproach to you, as you will not have any thing to reproach to me, and thus far we shall be even with one another. The condition you are reduced to, my Lord, reply'd the Earl of Warwick, would soon engage me to forget your treacherous dealings with me, were my own particular Interest concern'd only, but I can't pardon you without acting contrary to the Laws of this War. Had I faln into your hands, you would certainly have treated me as I am going now to treat you. Yes, my Lord, reply'd the Earl of Pembroke fiercely, I should have taken all possible care to rid my hands of you: But pray examine without partiality, your case and mine; you were always my Rival, you were always beloved, whereas I always met with an ill treatment; alas! what sufferings have I not undergone upon that account? You are the only cause of them whereas you can have no other reason on your side, than the eagerness you have of sacrificing an unfortunate person, who cherish'd the same thing that you did, but in taking away my Life you do me a kindness against your own will. 'Tis so long ago since it is become odious to me, that I desire nothing else than death; and I desire you to order them to dispatch with all speed. But the case is quite different with my Brother: Alas! what has he committed against you? He served his King his Benefactor, without knowing any thing of our Personal Quarrel, and my Sentiments for the Countess: Would not you have fought under the same Banners, had not you a particular cause of complaint against Edward? And did not you place him on the same Throne, from whence you now intend to pull him again? My Lord, said the Earl of Warwick, interrupting him, upon this occasion my private Animosity has not the least share in what I am going about to do, but 'tis reason of State that forbids me to grant your Request; I must be forced to leave you, for I find it impossible to resist any longer your Intreaties.' So away he went, fearing lest compassion should so far prevail upon him as to prevent him from Sacrificing to the Countess of Devonshire, a person who endeavoured her Ruin.

Thus the brave Earl of Pembroke and his Brother finish'd their days. King Edward was more afflicted thereat than at the loss of the Battel: 'Alas! said he, my Friendship always proves fatal to my faithful Subjects; who can supply the place these two brave Men held in my Affection?'

King Edward highly sensible of his late Disgrace, gathered the scattered remnants of his Troops, unto which he join'd some new Levies; but notwithstanding this, finding himself too weak to cope with his Enemy, he proposed an Accommodation, and living in hopes of a good issue, little care was taken in his Camp to keep the Souldiers to their Duty. The Earl advertised thereof, took the advantage of a dark Night, kill'd all he found in Arms, and seeing himself soon Master of the Camp, advanced directly to the King's Tent, and found him fast asleep. I give you leave to guess at this Monarch's Surprize, when by the Light of the Flambeaux he saw the Earl of Warwick compleatly arm'd with his Sword drawn, who threw open his Curtains, with a bold Countenance, and with Eyes sparkling with fire and anger. The King soon perceiving it was too late to make any Resistance: 'You are Victorious, said he to him, with a firm and steady look, I am your Prisoner; but hope, my Lord, you will make no ill use of your good Fortune. I know what Respect I owe you, Sir, reply'd the Earl modestly; would to God your Majesty had also known what you ow'd to such a Servant as I was. Earl, my misfortunes are too grievous, said the King; don't upbraid me; you have no real cause of Complaint against me, unless it be on account of my Marriage; and I think no Man in the Universe ought to be a better Judge of the Power of a Love passion than your self. But to convince you what a good opinion I still have of you, I conjure you that if the Queen happens to fall into your hands, you will treat her according to her Rank and Virtue. Sir, reply'd the Earl, the high Station unto which your Majesty has exalted her, and her Sex, are such strict Engagements to me, as she shall never want my Respect.' Edward fetch'd a deep sigh, said not a word more, and with a profound melancholy in his face follow'd his Conqueror, who confined him in the Castle of Warwick; but upon further consideration, not thinking him sufficiently secured there, he desired the Archbishop of York to receive and keep him in the Castle of Medelan, and so he made all the haste he could to London.

His whole Heart and Mind being always with the Countess of Devonshire, and knowing the Nunnery she had chosen for her Retirement, he went thither to ask for her. There had been so great a Change of Affairs since she saw him last, that she judged she ought not to refuse him an Interview. I appear here before you, Madam, said he, notwithstanding your Orders to the contrary, but it was absolutely necessary I should consult you upon the Destiny of two Great Kings, as also upon yours and mine. You will easily believe, Madam, I was never ambitious of the English Crown, because when it was in my power to put it upon my own head, I gave it to Edward. But it being now once more at my disposal, I could not resist the satisfaction of making an Offer of it to you; I am come therefore to lay the Crown of England at your feet. If you will allow me to aid you in ascending the Throne, and will afford me a Place there, I shall think my self a thousand times more indebted to you, than you can be to me. Henry is still in the Tower, Edward in the Castle of Medelan, and I am a much closer Prisoner than these two Princes: Consider with attention of what I propose to you, time is precious, you may render me happy, without fearing the least opposition.

'My Lord, said the Countess, I need not consider long of the Answer I am to give you concerning the offer you make me. 'Tis not the Lustre of a Crown that cou'd entice me, I never thought you would have been in a condition to give it; but, to do all the Justice I can to your Merit, my Lord, I will not enlarge any farther upon that Subject, for fear of discovering to you the utmost extent of my Misfortunes, when I am forced by my Duty, and out of Decency, to refuse a Spouse who would be the only Happiness of my Life. Oh! Madam, cry'd the Earl, fetching a deep Sigh, don't sweeten by such obliging Expressions, the bitterness of your cruel refusal; you would find out Reasons enough to persuade you to give me your Hand, were not mine odious to you; and so you will rather refuse the Kingdom I offer, than reign along with me. After all this, Madam, I have nothing else to do, but to think of dying; I will be as forward in courting all opportunities to lose my Life, as I would have been careful to avoid them, had your Sentiments proved more favourable to me.' 'Go on, my Lord, make sure Work to overwhelm me with Reproaches, reply'd the Countess, call my Words in question, doubt, since you force me to tell it, doubt of the Possession of my Heart, doubt whether I love you beyond any thing living.' 'Alas! answered the Earl, interrupting her, how shall I be convinced of it? you have so much goodness as not to dispatch me at once, you reserve me for a languishing Martyrdom; but I am not able to resist long the Torments of your Refusal, I shall certainly pay for them with my Life.' Their whole Conversation run upon Prayers and Reproaches, assurances of Friendship and Justifications. At last they parted, equally over-charg'd with Grief; the Countess being seiz'd with the most violent Inquietude that could be, for her dear Earl; the Part he was to act was of such vast Consequence, as was likely to expose him to so many Dangers, that the fair Lady could not but be greatly allarm'd thereat.

The Earl of Warwick now despairing of success in persuading Madam Devonshire to accept of the Crown at his Hands, and being not inclin'd to wear it himself, except for her sake, he directed his Journey to London, with an intention to have Henry out of the Tower, where he was kept Prisoner by Edward, and to set up this King against the other; but was met upon the Road by the Duke of Clarence, his Son-in-Law, and the Marquess of Montague, who told him, that Edward having desired the Arch-bishop of York to let him go sometimes out of the Castle to divert himself with Hunting, and that Prelate, who foresaw not the Design, judging he ought not to refuse so small a Favour to the King, he took the opportunity of making his escape, with the assistance of William Stanley and Thomas Borrough, his faithful Servants.

This piece of News changed the whole face of Affairs, so that instead of going to London, they were forced to take another Road, because Edward was got thither before them, being received by the great Acclamations of the People. So they went to Lincoln, and the King having raised another Army, engaged the Earl's Forces under the Command of Sir Robert Wells, near Stafford: But the Earl's Army was routed, and the Commander in Chief taken Prisoner, who had his Head cut off by the King's orders. So sudden and so unexpected a change of Fortune, wou'd have dismay'd any Person of a less firm and noble Resolution than himself: He was sensible there was no staying for him in England; his only affliction was, to be forced to leave the Countess of Devonshire behind him, being extreamly apprehensive of some ill Consequences, in reference to the Love or hatred of King Edward.

The Civil Wars having raised so many different Parties in the Kingdom, that the Countess saw herself obliged to change sometimes her Retirement, she found an opportunity of discoursing Berincour; he told her the Disgrace that had befal'n the Earl's Army, that he was going to Calais with the Duke and Dutchess of Clarence, and that he conjured her to come thither, where they needed not fear any thing from their common Enemies, and that if he could see her there, he should enjoy that Tranquillity of Mind he stood so much in need of, to avoid a thousand other Mis-haps.

The Countess shew'd a great deal of regret at the Misfortune of her Lover, and much regard to his Tenderness for her Person; but could not resolve to go beyond Sea: No mention would be made, said she, of what I had to fear from Edward in England, but they would be sure not to forget to report that I was gone to France to see the Earl of Warwick. However, I don't intend to outbrave all Dangers, I will keep myself concealed. She writ a Consolatory Letter to the Earl; but quite over whelm'd with Grief, was forced to leave Berincour, and to shut herself up in her Closet, to afford a free course to her Tears; for certainly never any Lady loved a Man so dearly as she did this Illustrious Earl, from the very first minute she saw him, and she could not reproach him with one minutes Neglect; in those Days the Heroes remain'd faithful to their Mistresses, without being Happy; but in our Times things are quite otherwise.

The Earl of Warwick expected with much impatience, the return of Berincour. The Countesses Letter was so positive, that finding no Hopes to flatter himself that she would come to Calais, he found his Safety to depend on his dispatch of going thither without her. So he •eft the Coast of England, condoling the Countess of Devonshire's Condition, and sometimes reproaching her want of Resolution. Soon after he came in sight of the Harbour of Calais, where instead of being admitted into the Place, he had occasion to make trial of those ill chances of Fortune which are the ordinary attendants of unfortunate Persons. He had made one Vauclere, a Gentleman of Gascony, Governour of the Place in his Absence. This Man understanding the Disgrace of his Benefactor, was so far from opening the Gates to him, that he play'd his Cannon upon the Ships of the Earl of Warwick, which he had infallibly sunk, had they not immediately made off to Sea.

You may guess at the Inquietude and Indignation such an Action as this raised in the brave Warwick. But to increase his Misfortune, the Dutchess of Clarence his Daughter, frightned at the Danger she saw herself exposed to, was brought to Bed of a Son, at a time when they wanted even Necessaries for his subsistence. The Earl of Warwick seeing them in so deplorable a state, thought sit to make his Resentment give way to the love he bore to his Daughter. He sent to Vauclere to desire him to permit the new born Duke of Clarence to be Baptized in the Town, and to send some Refreshment for the Dutchess, who was ready to die for want of them. Vauclere comply'd with both, and the Duke and Earl seeing there was no hopes of being admitted into that place, set sail for Diep, where they met with a good Reception.

Having spent some time to refresh themselves, and the Dutchess of Clarence finding herself strong enough to undertake (in Company with her Father, her Husband and Sister) a Journey to Amboise, where King Lewis XI. then kept his Court: they met with so favourable a Reception from that Monarch, that they had all the reason in the World to hope for his Protection; for the King did not in the least doubt but that the Earl being sensible of the Affront put upon him in the Negotiation of the Match of the Princess of Savoy, as well as upon that illustrious Lady, had upon that score revolted from England; and the Earl soon had intelligence, that Charles Duke of Burgundy had been so bold as to threaten King Lewis with a bloody War, if he supported them: But that Prince thinking his Honour concerned in this Quarrel, resolved to espouse it publickly.

Margaret of Anjou, Spouse to that unfortunate King who was kept Prisoner by King Edward, led a melancholy Life in France, this being the only place from whence she hoped to retain some succours to recover the Throne: She was not unacquainted with the Earl of Warwick's Design to serve her Spouse; so that to shew her acknowledgement, she came in Person to visit and return him Thanks. The Dutchess of Clarence being still much out of order, by reason of the Fatigues of her late Journey, the Queen would also pay her a Visit, accompany'd by her Son. This young Prince's Stature was already much beyond his Age, and his Beauty and noble Air, were infallible Signs of his high Birth. The Queen and the Dutchess of Clarence shed abundance of Tears, so that the remembrance of their Misfortunes for a considerable time would not permit them to think or to talk of any thing else: But so soon as the Queen was a little at leisure, and cast her Eyes upon Ann Nevil, Daughter to the Earl of Warwick, and younger Sister to the Dutchess, she stood amazed at her most ravishing Beauty; and the Prince of Wales 〈◊〉 Son felt the effects thereof as soon as he ••w her; and tho' he was otherwise Master of 〈◊〉 refin'd and pleasing Wit, yet he could do no ••ing at this time but confine himself to a bare •dmiration, without being able to entertain her, 〈◊〉 he could have wish'd to do.

The Queen join'd all her Interest with the Earl, for Henry against Edward, desiring he would make use of all his Credit with Lewis XI. to get some Troops from him: For notwithstanding she was related to him, and had urged him for a long time upon that point, he had always found means to evade the Matter, under some pretence or other; but so soon as the Earl claim'd his share in the Obligation, the King granted them every thing they desired.

The hopes of their speedy return into England at the Head of a good Army, afforded a secret satisfaction as well to the Queen as to the Earl: The better to cement their Union, they visited one another every Day, and made private Feasts, in which the Prince of Wales made all his Application to my Lady Anne, whom he often regaled with Flowers and Garlands, with an Air sufficently discovering his Fear and Confusion; and as she receiv'd them not without some Emotion, so they talk'd but little when they were together, but were both uneasie when asunder. The Prince of Wales hast flattered himself, that my Lady Anne would go along with the Queen his Mother, who intended to go into England; but understanding the Earl of Warwick did not think it convenient they should leave the French Court, he was ready to die with Grief: The first Motions of a Passion are stronger and more respectful than all the rest. He would tremble when he sat down by her; and how desirous soever he was to speak to her, he durst not venture at it: His Inquietudes, and the continual Scruples that afflicted his Mind, produced such a change in him, that he was scarce to be known: The Queen of England was frightned thereat, and the whole Court took notice of it.

The Dutchess of Clarence frequently keeping her Chamber, my Lady Anne was commonly with her; so that when the Queen came to see and talk with her, the Prince of Wales at last took the boldness to entertain his Lady. Madam, said he one Day to her, notwithstanding my being reduced to a languishing Condition, I am sprightly enough not to neglect any thing that relates to you; I have been very careful to send to Madam (the Dutchess of Orleans) for your Case. That is to say, reply'd my Lady, that her Lottery is drawn; I must own, I should be exceeding glad to have a Prize, because I should look upon it as a good Omen to our Affairs. There are in this Lottery so many different Prizes, said the Prince, that perhaps that which falls to our Lot may not be pleasing to you. Nay, 'tis true, said she with a low Voice, that if there be any extraordinary Jewel to be had, Madam will endeavour it shall fall to the Count of Beanjeut's share. And have you taken notice, continued the Prince, that she 〈◊〉 some particular Sentiments for him? Truly, said she, one need not be a Witch to guess at her Sentiments in that regard; besides that, I hear my Father talking so often with my Sister upon that Point, that I dare not challenge the honour of this Discovery. But, Signieur, added she, satisfie my Curiosity, and let me open the Case. So fair a Hand as yours, said he, can't miss of crawing a good Prize-Ticket. And so he presented to her a neat Case, or Box, on the top whereof was Engraven the God of Silence. Guess (said my Lady Anne to him smiling) what means this Hieroglyphe? It means, that if we get nothing, we •…ll say nothing; for in this World there is no •hing like hiding ones own Disgrace. But I Madam (cry'd he) should explain it after a quite different manner; this God of Silence signifies, that People who are Contented, should not divulge nor boast of their good Fortune. Then you will never talk of yours (said she). No, (continu'd he) Madam, I will never speak of it, no, if I do, it shall be to nobody but to you. In the mean while my Lady opening the Box, and pulling out a small Ticket, or Billet: Ah! Prince (cry'd she with a joyful Air) I have got something; and then read these following Words: The Prince of Wales's Heart for my Lady Anne.

She was considering of what had happened, when the Prince laying hold of this opportunity, Chance has determin'd my Lot, Madam, (said he) and give me leave to improve this happy juncture to make to you a Confession full of Respect and Sincerity, which will perhaps meet with Disdain at your Hands, tho' at the same time it makes you sensible of the force of your Char•s, and of my Passion. Why, Signieur, should you imagine I should hear you with so much indifferency? Alas! Madam, I am very willing to do myself Justice, (continu'd he) I am an unfortunate Prince, without a Crown and without a Kingdom; you deserve one▪ and I am not in a Condition to offer it to you; but I have a tender and faithful Heart, that adores you. He said no more, not daring to look my Lady in the Face; but as she had never seen any thing in her Life she thought more amiable than that young Prince, she told him, with much Modesty and a graceful Air, Can you imagine, Signieur, I should not remember that you are the Son of a great King, and that such another Revolution as has took you from the Throne, may place you there again, with more lustre than ever? 'Tis true, Madam, added the Prince, what you say is not altogether impossible: but, Madam, supposing I shou'd always continue unfortunate, wou'd you not permit me to adore you? My Lady blush'd, and told him with a smile, she used not to answer such unnecessary Questions.

About the same time the Queen of France being brought to Bed of a Dauphin, (afterwards call'd Charles VIII.) the whole Court was infinitely rejoiced thereat; and the King would needs have the Prince of Wales to stand God-father.

The Ceremony was perform'd with much Magnificence; and the young Prince going to return his Thanks to the King, for the Honour he had done him, found him alone in his Closet, and in an exceeding good Humour, upon the Birth of his Son; he had the goodness to tell the Prince, I intend to make you Happy, who thereupon throwing himself at his Feet, and embracing his Knees, Sir, (said he) 'tis in your Power to render me Happy as long as I live; 'tis neither your Treasure I covet, nor your Troops, my Ambition reaches much higher. What is it you desire then Nephew? (reply'd the King, somewhat surprized at the young Prince's Words). Sir, (continu'd he) since your Majesty gives me leave to tell it, all my Desire is centred in my Lady Anne; let her be my Spouse, let Fortune prove never so averse to me otherwise, I shall live always contented with her.

The King told him he would think of it; and upon farther consideration, judging it for their common Interest, to unite the Houses of Lancaster and Warwick, and by this means to make the young Prince Brother-in Law to the Duke of Clarence, he proposed the match to the Queen of England; who approving of it, the Nuptials were celebrated with much Magnificence, and to the most sensible Joy and Satisfaction of the new •arried Gouple.

Those of the Earl's party in England had not •eased to labour under hand without intermission, •he Reestablishment of their Affairs; and tho' the Earl's two Brothers espoused in outward appear •nce the King's Cause, it was only to be inform'd •he better of all his Transactions. Whilst the King thinking his Enemy to be past all recovery, thought of nothing but Feasting, Hunting, and Plays, wherein the fair Sex had their full share, the Duke of Burgundy, his Brotherin-law, not so much addicted to Gallantry, but far surpassing him in point of Prudence, did not cease to give him notice from time to time, that before long he would have work enought to combat a Hydra, whose Heads he'd find a hard task to cut off, if he gave it time to grow to its full strength. But these advices remained unregarded.

The Earl of Warwick was continually sollicited to come over into England, where as they told him every thing was ready, they only wanting his Presence. He fail'd not to give an account thereof to the King of France, and the Queen of England; and the Troops which King Lewis intended as Auxiliaries to Queen Margaret not being as yet ready to embark, it was agreed the Earl should go into England first to encourage his Party by his Presence.

There was one obstacle in the way, viz. a strong Squadron of Ships of the Duke of Burgundy's, which were Cruizing on the English Coast, to prevent the Transportation of any Troops out of France thither. The Enterprize was hazardous, and the Earl of Warwick had all the reason to dread the falling into the hands of the Duke of Burgundy his mortal Enemy. He was sensible of the danger, but not so far as to think it sufficient not to venture at it; the sole consideration of coming once more near to his Countess being sufficient to make him hasten his Departure. Providence seem'd to take peculiar care of him at that Juncture; the Fleet of the Duke of Burgundy being dispersed by a Tempest just when the Earl was got aboard his Ship, he arrived safely with all that attended him, without any opposition at Dartmouth. He fail'd not to give notice of his Arrival to all his Friends, and publish'd a Proclamation, requiring every Man able to bear Arms from Sixteen to Sixty years, should come to join him, to aid him in the Reestablishment of Henry, who had been unjustly Dethroned by the Duke of York, so that he soon gat himself at the head of an Army of Sixty thousand Men. Upon this unexpected News Edward was awakened out of his Lethargy, wherein Love and Pleasure had involved him: His Courage was such as to be able to undergo a much severer shock of Fortune than this. He drew together his Troops; but those being but few in number, he thought it most expedient to Encamp near the Sea-side, the better to take precaution against all Events.

This foresight stood him in no small stead, for at the sollicitation of the Marquess of Montague (in whom he confided, and who made but an ill use of his Trust upon this occasion) being deserted by his little Army, he was forced to think of saving himself by Sea. He was then at the Castle of Lynn, and hearing them cry every where, Long live Henry, he ordred them to defend the Bridge, till such time he and the Duke of Gloucester his Brother could get aboard a Ship, to seek for Refuge among their Neighbours. He steer'd his Course for Flanders, very ill provided and attended, wanting even Necessaries for sustenance; having carry'd nothing along with him but his Arms wherewith to defend himself, or to die like a Man of Courage. What a strange Revolution! said he to the Duke of Gloucester; we are here swimming upon the Sea, without Money, without Friends, and without knowing where to seek for Refuge; who would ever put his Confidence in Fortune? All my hopes is in the Duke of Clarence. Why, Sir, said the Duke of Gloucester, is my Brother so happy as to be reconciled to you? Has your Majesty forgiven him his I reason? 'Tis a Secret I dare to intrust you with, reply'd the King: I have sent back into France one of the Dutchess of Clarence's Women, a person of so much Sense and Conduct, that I have left it to her management to negotiate with her Master concerning what I have proposed to him. She has made him sensible that nothing can be more derogatory to the Grandeur of our House, than to be serviceable to that of Lancaster; that his true Interest, and that of the Earl of Warwick are quite opposite, and that if he will repent heartily, I am ready to pardon him. He has actually done so, added Edward; but it is not time yet to declare himself. However, 'tis this that flatters my thoughts, my soul fluctuating betwixt hopes and fear, promises it self a possibility of a happy return. I am fully perswaded as well as your Majesty, said the Duke of Gloucester, we shall still see another favourable Revolution, which will recover you that Throne you have lost.

Thus these two Princes endeavoured to afford one another the best Comfort they could under their present Circumstances.

So soon as the Marquess of Montague was come into his Brother's Camp, they shut themselves up together, and every body judged no otherwise than that this was done in order to take the best measures they could to improve and pursue so happy a beginning. But they were much out in their guess. The two Brothers, after having embraced one another, talk'd of nothing but the Countess of Devonshire. The Earl ask'd what News he had of her, with the utmost impatience; and the Marquess told him, that the King having discovered the Place of her Retirement, went thither and conjured her to let him speak with her, and that for fear of exasperating him, and dreading some ill usuage if she did not, she had at last resolved to see him. 'Oh! Brother, what is it you tell me, cry'd the Earl? He is a Prince worthy to be beloved; how I dread this Conversation! I must confess, reply'd the Marquess, I was as much concern'd at it as you are, and would have given my Life to have been able to interrupt it; but the King was no sooner come away, but he call'd and told me, I can't forbear to esteem the Countess, tho' she treats me with so much haughtiness and indifferency. She has so great a share of Vertue, that tho' I lose all hopes of being beloved by her, I can't cease to love. This relation, said the Marquess, proved a comfort to me, to such a degree as you may imagine. I desired the King to banish from his heart a person who return'd him nothing but Ingratitude; and finding he intended to see her again, I writ her a Letter, telling her, That if my advice were not suspected by her, I thought she would not do amiss to retire at some greater distance from London, to avoid further inconveniences. She thank'd me for my care, and immediately after went away with my Lord Stanley and his Lady to Nittingham. How cry'd the Earl, is she so near us? Go, go, let us find her out, I can't live without seeing her.'

Had the Earl of Warwick been less intangled in his Passion for the Countess of Devonshire, he had bestowed his time in the pursuit of the King and might in all probability have overtaken him; but he sacrificed all his Interest to his Love; he desired his Brother to remain in the Camp, whilst he went to find out the Countess, being resolved once more to make her an Offer of a Crown Fortune had put into her hands, and which was now at his disposal. A thousand different thoughts came into his head, some tending to flatter his hopes, others to drive him to despair: sometimes he hoped she would accept of the Crown; and soon after he feared she would not. But to Nottingham he went with the utmost speed, but was no sooner arrived there, when he was told that my Lord Stanley was gone from thence with all his Family towards London, being frightned at the approach of the Armies; and that the Countess of Devonshire was preparing to retreat to some solitary place, where it would be very hard to find her out. The Earl was once in a mind to follow her, but at last considering what danger he was likely to expose himself to, if he should be met by some of King Edward's Parties; he thought it best to dispatch Berincour to the Countess, unto whom he writ the following Letter:

That same heart, Madam, that adores you, comes to offer you the Crown of England; dispose of the heart dispose of the Crown, make me happy to accept of both.

'Perswade my Lady Devonshire, said the Earl, that if she refuses my Offer with the same obstinacy as she did the last time I saw her, I shall in losing all hopes of possessing her, become quite careless of my Life, and only strives to put an end to it by a sudden death.' Berincour overtook the Countess at some miles distance from London, where she staid for a little time; when she faw him, she changed colour, being sensible of all the motions that are commonly felt when one expects some immediate News from what ones loves.

'My Lord is once more Victorious, said she, drawing nearer to the Gentleman, and you may easily imagine, I am more rejoyc'd thereat than any other person living. It is your own fault, Madam, reply'd Berincour, if you will not convince him of that truth; for hitherto you have given him occasion to doubt of it.' The Countess answered only with a deep figh, and taking the Letter he presented to her, she read it over and over, and at last repeated the same things to Berincour, she had told his Master before. 'I have much more Tenderness than Ambition, added she, I am sensible of the infinite Deserts of the Earl of Warwick; I have reason to believe he loves me; I preserve a most sincere acknowledgment for him; I am certain also I shall never be happy without either his Person or his Tenderness; but after this frank confession, what can he ask more of me? Is not he the Man who fought my Husband? is it not he that kill'd him? How is it in my Power to marry him? and if I could give my consent to it, I am certain I should forfeit his Esteem.' All what Berincour was able to alledge to inspire other Sentiments into her, proving fruitless, he saw himself obliged to leave her extreamly dissatisfy'd at this ill Success. She writ to the Earl to thank him for the Honour he did her, and to tell him how much afflicted she was, because her present Circumstances would not permit her to accept of his Offer. So Berincour left her under a greater affliction than ever she had been sensible of before in all her life time.

The Earl of Warwick expected with the utmost impatience the Return of Berincour, who when he came brought him such an answer from my Lady Devonshire, as served only to render him more unfortunate. He shut himself up in his Closet, the better to afford a free course to his Complaints; he cry'd, he call'd a thousand times for death; and then considering within himself how to dispose of one of the best Crowns in the World, he took a sudden resolution, and putting himself at the head of his Army that was ready to march, cry'd, Long live King Henry, Heavens preserve him, may his Reign prove auspicious. The Officers and Souldiers set up a loud Huzzah, and so march'd forward to London. The Earl of Warwick went immediately to the Tower, and delivered Henry from a long Captivity King Edward had made him undergo. You may guess at the surprize and joy of this unfortunate King, and what he said to his Deliverer, at a time when he little dream'd of the Recovery of his Liberty and Crown. The Earl received his Competitor with a most profound Respect, and when he assured him of his Acknowledgment, he begg'd to consider him as his most humble Subject, who thought himself too happy in having been Instrumental to restore him to the Throne; and then conducted him in great State to the Cathedral.

In the mean while the unfortunate Queen Isabella, who had not been able to follow King Edward in his flight, understanding the News of this strange Revolution, and of the Earl of Warwick's approach to London, she sought for Refuge in the Church of Westminster, against her Victorious but mortal Enemy, where she was delivered of the Eldest Son she bore to King Edward; who as he bore his Father's Name, so he was no loss unfortunate in his Reign. The Earl understanding what a condition she was reduced to, sent Berincour to her, to let her know with his utmost Respect, that she needed fear nothing in a place where he had some Authority. But the Queen return'd no answer, but by Sobs, Sighs and Tears. Berincour told the Earl, the Queen was in a most miserable condition, and stood in need of every thing. He, moved with Compassion, sent him back immediately to offer her a considerable Sum of Money in a very rich Box: Whatever my Right may be to this Mony, said she, 'tis enough it comes from the Earl of Warwick, for me to refuse it. The most lamentable state I am reduced to, can't make me be so forgetful as not to remember him to be our most mortal Enemy; Return him his Present, he is used to be liberal with what is none of his own; witness the Crown of Edward he is going to put upon Henry's Head. Madam, said Berincour, may I be so bold as to represent to your Majesty, that at all 〈◊〉 one must not •••••en to ones resentment? 〈◊〉 accept of my Master's Present, it may perhaps prove a means to reconcile him to your Interest. No, said she, I hope for nothing from a revo•…ed Subject. In the condition the Royal Family is now reduced to, we can hope for no assistance but only from Heaven. Thus this Magnanimous Princess would not accept of the Earl's Present, and remain'd in Westminster Church to shelter her self against the Violences she dreaded from the House of Lancaster. So soon as the Earl had in the King's Name given the Necessary Orders according to the present exigency of Affairs, and had dispatch'd several Expresses to Lewis the Eleventh, and Queen Margaret, to inform them of his good Success, he now began to inform himself exactly concerning what Course Edward had steer'd after his Departure out of England: He was inform'd that he being pursued in the open Sea by Eight Privateers, whom he was not able to engage, was in the utmost danger of being taken by them, had not a fair Wind sprung up, and carry'd him to Alemar in the Province of Holland. The Signior Grutze, Governour of the place, was, as good fortune would have it for King Edward, just then present there, who upon the first notice of his Arrival, went aboard himself, offering him every thing that was in his Power. My condition is deplorable, said Edward to him, but you receive me with so much kindness as will make me almost insensible of my misfortune. Then turning him to the Master of the Ship who had brought him over, he presented him with his Coat lined with Martin Sables: I give you but a slender Reward, said he, but 'tis all I have left. The Captain kissing his hand upon his knees, I am too well rewarded, Sir, reply'd he, in having the honour of being serviceable to your Majesty.

King Edward being supply'd by the said Governour with Clothes, Money and other Necessaries, went to the Hague, where the Duke of Burgundy then kept his Court That Duke seeing him in so miserable a condition, did not fail to furnish Edward (his Brother in law) and those that came along with him, with all manner of Neeessaries; but as to the Succours he desired to enable him to return into England, that Affair met with some difficulties.

The Earl of Warwick, less taken up with the weight of his publick Affairs than with his Passion, thought scarce of any thing else but the Countess. He had been in search for her every where, and now despairing to find her: Alas! said he to the Marquess of Montague, because you persist in loving her, marry her, Brother; in seeing you happy I shall find some matter of comfort to my self, and it will serve me as an undeniable reason to cure me of all the hopes I had conceived of becoming her Husband. You see her rigour towards me, she shuns me, I can't as much as see her. She treats me as harshly as your self, reply'd the Marquess, but with this difference, that she loves you, but only looks upon mine as an importunate Passion. They discoursed for some time longer, concerning their mutual misfortunes, this being the only comfort they had in the Countess s absence. At last the Earl quite oppress'd with Grief, frankly confess'd to his Brother, That he heartily wish'd to be delivered by Death, of those most cruel pains that continually tormented him.

King Henry having constituted the Duke of Clarence and the Earl of Warwick Governours of the Kingdom, the last was very vigilant in taking all possible precautions against any sudden surprize. But being obliged to march with a good Body of Troops into the North of England to secure King Henry's Interest there, Edward tool this opportunity to Land with 1000 Men, without any opposition from those who were intrusted with the Defence of the Coasts on that side: Besides which, the Duke of Clarence, who under pretence of being highly exasperated against his Brother Edward, had got a great Ascendant over King Henry and the Earl, deserted their Party, and join'd his Forces with Edward.

They march'd directly to London, which City (seldom constant to its Choice) opened its Gates without the least resistance, in spite of all what Henry could do or say to the contrary; and he had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the Victorious Enemy, this being the fourth time he was taken a Prisoner. The Earl of Warwick, upon this no less doleful than surprizing News, drew together what Troops he could, directing his March towards London, in hopes of surprizing King Edward; but this Prince, no less vigilant upon any occasion of moment than he was careless in matters of no great consequence, was already got into the Field, and marching directly against him. The Earl, animated at the presence of a Monarch who had so ill rewarded his Services, and fearing that the King's Party might encrease whilst his was likely to diminish, did not think fit to expect the French Auxiliaries Queen Margaret was to bring to his assistance. You are for fighting, said the Marquess of Montague to him, and so am I; but this day must decide the Fate of our Lives. If we are worsted, let us have this comfort at least to die in the Field of Battel, without carrying away our Disgrace and Misfortune along with us. We will, reply'd the Earl, bereave our selves of the very means thereof. And so alighting from his Horse, the Marquess did the like, and they sent their Horses without the Camp. Berincour was also dispatch'd by his Master to the Countess of Devonshire, to assure her, that if he dy'd in the Battle, he should not regret so much his Life as that he had not been able to merit her heart and her hand.

Soon after was fought the famous Battle of Barnet; the great Actions perform'd there by Edward, by the Earl, and Marquess, surpass'd those of all the rest: But at last Fortune declared for the King; the Earl's Troops at first forced those of Edward to give way, but these returning to the Charge, put the Earl's Army to flight: Ten thousand Men were slain in the Field of Battle; the Earl of Warwick and the Marquess of Montague did all they could to rally their Forces, but in vain; and King Edward being in every place where his Presence was necessary, animated his Troops by his Example and Words; and espying the Earl, ran towards him with his Sword drawn, to decide their personal Quarrel upon this Occasion. But whilst they were engaging, a whole Troop of Edward's Soldiers fell upon the Earl and mortally wou•ded him; the Marquess of Montague endeavouri•g to rescue his Brother, underwent the same fate. Thus fell these two great Men, who were always formidable to their Enemies. The Earl of Warwick had obtain'd the Sirname of the Achilles of England, being the darling of the People, and the Terrour of his Enemies; they were universally lamented, King Edward being the only Gainer in this Universal Loss.

Scarce was the Noise of this Victory spread over the Kingdom, but King Henry's Party left destitute of all hopes, Edward had now no more Enemies to encounter but Queen Margaret and the Prince of Wales, lately landed in England with a good body of French; and looking upon the Victory he had obtain'd against the Earl of Warwick, as a happy presage of his future Success against the Queen, he engaged them near Tewksbury: This most couragious Princess fighting at the head of her Troops, like an Amazon, saw the Prince of Wales drop dead near her, having receiv'd many Wounds; she threw herself upon his Body, endeavouring to secure him against a vast number of Swords directed against his Body, but in vain, her only Son was gone; which she perceiving, fought like a desperate Woman, who was willing to lose her Life upon the spot: However, she was taken Prisoner, and the Duke of Somerset, of the Royal Blood of the House of Lancaster, along with her; the last had his Head cut off the next Day by King Edward. Thus England, stain'd with the Blood of its Princes, sacrificed its Subjects to the Fury of an Intestine War.

The victorious King carry'd Henry and Margaret (two most deplorable Instances of the Frailty of humane Affairs) along with him in his March; and near their Litters, you might see the two Bodies of the Earl of Warwick and his Brother the Marquess of Montague in an open Chariot all uncovered: Edward being willing to expose them to every Bodies sight, for fear somebody or other should make use of their Names, to head a new Party. In this manner he made his entrance in London; and he shut up Henry in the Tower, where he a few Days after was Murdered by the Duke of Gloucester; but Queen Margaret was ransomed by her Father, the King of Sicily, for thirty Thousand Crowns.

The Countess of Devonshire led so retired a Life, ever since the last refusal of espousing the Earl of Warwick, and this refusal went so near her Heart, that she would not be seen, even by those of her own Family; she had bought a little House in one of the most solitary places of London, which she took some delight in fitting up; she caused all her Adventures to be drawn in a Closet, where the Earl's Picture was drawn in a thousand Places: She diverted herself with Books, Birds, a fine Flower-Garden, and had three Women among her Attendance, who sung and play'd most charmingly upon several Musical Instruments. This Solitude she judged might serve instead of a Nunnery, for she received no Visits, and was always employ'd in sending forth her Prayers and Vows to Heaven, to bless the Army of the Earl of Warwick. The Danger she knew he must after be exposed to, would not suffer her to live in Tranquillity; for sometimes she fancied she saw him in the midst of an Army rais'd in haste, who might easily quit his Party, and go over to King Edward: and after all, supposing no such thing might happen, she dreaded the Event of a decisive Battle, or some other fatal Accident.

Her Mind was taken up with these Reflections, when Berincour came; he told her, his Master had sent him away that very time, when he was preparing to give Battle to Edward; that all the weighty Affairs that lay upon his Shoulders had not in the least diminish'd his Passion, unto which he seem'd to postpone every thing else; that tho' her Absence had been almost insupportable to him, he had continued never the less faithful; and that the Heroe in his Person had never got the precedency before the Lover.

'I am sensible of every thing I owe to the Earl, his Idea is always in my Mind, (reply'd the Countess) I pray incessantly for his Preservation, were it even at the expence of my Life; and his Glory, whereby he gains an immortal Crown, sometimes gives me some Notions of Vanity, which is not altogether free from Self-Interest; but, Berincour, how dearly do I pay for these pleasing Minutes! for soon after I am over-whelm'd with a world of melancholy Thoughts, which make me dread some ill Fate, for what I so dearly love. A happy Indifferency is worthy of the Envy of all the World.' Her Eyes being fill'd with Tears, 'You see, continu'd she, you see me cry, and I am not able to stop my Tears; I am disturb'd all Night with terrible Dreams: O good God! cry'd she, Would it be possible for me to outlive my Illustrious Friend? Go, return to him, make him sensible of my Frailties, recommend to him from me, to be careful of a Life whereon depends the Preservation of my own: Let him come back, let him come back.'

'But Madam, (said Berincour) you give me no promise of your Marriage: So long as you refuse to unite your Destiny with his, believe me, he will take no Care of himself; if he dies, Madam, won't you have a great deal to reproach to yourself?' 'You confound me, continu'd she, but I assure you, I am sufficiently unhappy already, don't add to my Misfortune.' So Berincour saw himself obliged to depart, without being able to obtain any thing in Favour of his Master.

The Countess, as I told you, having taken a resolution not to be seen by any body, she used to go to Church early every Morning, and that in a Chair: She was covered with a Veil in the Earl of Warwick's Chappel, when the Earl's Body, and that of the Marquess of Montague were exposed to publick View in St. Paul's Church, by King Edward's particular Command: They were covered all over with Blood; their Wounds conspicuous in many Parts, and Death appear'd in its natural colour in their Faces.

I will not pretend to represent here, the Pain the Countess Devonshire felt at that time: She had been beloved both by the Earl, and by the Marquess, with so lively, constant, and respectful a Passion, that they had never given her the least occasion of Complaint against them. 'Twas also no less true, that she had never seen any Man whose Deserts could challenge a Preference before those of the Earl of Warwick, who was Master of a vast share of Wit, Valour, and all the other Qualifications, which made him the most accomplish'd Heroe in the Universe.

'Till this fatal Moment, she had had Power enough over herself to conceal the infinite tenderness she had for him; but now all these Passions contain'd hitherto within the bounds of the Empire of Reason, broke forth with so much impetuosity, that with a thousand Cries and Lamentations, she threw herself upon the dead and bloody Corps of her faithful Lover. Here she shed a torrent of Tears, which was not stop'd but with the loss both of her Sight and Voice, her Eyes remain'd fix'd without the least Motions upon him. Her delicious red and white Complexion, changed into a deadly paleness: They endeavoured to draw her away by force; but she squeezing the Earl's Hand close to her Bosom, fetch'd a very deep sigh, and so expired in the Arms of her Woman, before they were able to remove her from the place, or give her any real Assistance; happy in her Misfortunes, because her Grief would not suffer her to out-live what she loved.

The Extraction of the Countess was such, and her Beauty so extraordinary, and so much celebrated, that there were few People in England that did not hear and lament her Destiny. My Lord Stanley, her Brother, who loved her tenderly, being almost inconsolable, desired the King she might be buried in the same Tomb with the Earl of Warwick.

King Edward consented, being unwilling to separate such precious Ashes, and being highly afflicted at the Exit of so wonderful a Person, whom he had loved with so much tenderness: But he having still a great many Enemies to contend with, he was not altogether so sensible as he would have been at another time, of the Countess of Devonshire's Death.

BOOKS Sold by J. Morphew, and James Woodward, near Stationer's-Hall.

- MEMOIRS of the Court of England, in the Reign of King Charles II. Containing the Amours of that Prince, the Duke of Monmouth, Duke of Buckingham, Earls of Oxford, St. Albans, Argyle, of A_+n, Lord Grey, &c. In Two Parts: By the Countess of Dunois, Author of the Ingenious and Diverting Letters, Of the Lady's Travels into Spain: Writ during her Residence in that Court. The Second Edition Corrected: To which is added, The Unknown Lady's Pacquet of Letters, taken from her by a French Privateer, in her Passage to Holland. Suppos'd to be Written by several Persons of Quality. Brought over from St. Malo's by an English Officer, at the last Exchange of Prisoners. 8vo.

- The Comical Works of Don Francisco de Quevedo, Author of the Visions. Containing 1st. The Night Adventurer, or Day hater. 2dly, The Life of Paul the Spanish Sharper. 3dly, The Retentive Knight, and his Epistles▪ 4thly, The Dog and the Fever. 5thly, A Proclamation by old Father Time. 6thly, A Treatise of all things whatsoever. 7thly, Fortune in her Wits, or the Hour of all Men. Translated from the Spanish. 8vo.

Just Publish'd,

- ☞ The WORKS of Mr. Thomas Brown, in Prose and Verse; Serious, Moral, and Comical. In Three Volumes.

The Remaining Part OF The Unknown Lady's PACQUET of LETTERS, Taken from her By a French Privateer in her Passage to Holland.

Suppos'd to be written By several Men of Quality.

Brought over from St. Malo's, by an English Officer, at the last Exchange of Prisoners.

LETTER I.
From an English Gentleman in France, to his Sister in England, giving her an Account of the Change of that Court from Gallantry to Devotion, or from open Irreligion to Hypocrisy.

HELA! my pauvre Sister, saw you but the Austerities of Versailles and St. Germains, you would no longer be of Opinion, that the Court of England, was so inferior to 'em in Splendor and Delights. I look upon my self no better than a banish'd Man, and one grown old in Exile from his Native Country, his Friends, and Family. 'Tis true, my Duty obliges me to be here; but alas! how severe a Pleasure is that reckon'd, with what I can (now but barely) reflect on? Ev'n thou, my Sister, art little better than a Name to me. I left thee so young, that 'tis impossible to have any Idea of thee; not but Nature, or Impulse, or what you please, gives me an unaccountable Fondness for a Person I am wholly a stranger to; since, my Dear, you can no longer pretend to be that beautiful little Creature of four Years old, whose Image, with all her pretty Prattle, I still retain; yes, I say, thou art now another She: Thy Person and Understanding at its growth, and I do not question but that they equally deserve our Admiration: The last I can read in thy inimitable Letters: Therefore wanting the beautiful Substance of the other, let me at least possess the lovely Shadow. You have promised me your Picture, pray do not delay it, (for that in any desired Blessing is a sort of a Refusal.) I leave it to your own choice, whether in great or little; 'tis equal to me, whether I'm oblig'd to Cross or Kneller, for the knowledge of my Sister, or any other Artist, that may perhaps have since out-stript them in Reputation; tho' when I was so happy to be in England, they were deservedly esteem'd the best.

I find Nature to be the same in all Countries, and that whilst there be Women, they will have Curiosities! What is the News of our World to yours? Would you have me write Novels instead of Letters? I am told in your last, that the first thing you do in receiving mine, is in considering the quantity, from thence to set a Price or Value upon the whole; ah, my dear Sister, Truth and Kindness are not always the most voluminous! We may say the dearest tenderest Things in a little room; can any thing be more expressive than these words, I love? All other Terms of Passion are but derived from thence, and yet how little Paper do they imploy? 'Tis not then the Friendship in mine that you regard, 'tis the News it affords; and in this, my dear Sister, I am afraid you shew your self little better than a plain Gossip; but because I'm not well enough acquainted with you to chide, it shall be a happiness to me, that any way I can make a banish'd Brother's Remembrance acceptable to you.

But to begin with the Court at Versailles; it has an Air of nothing but Devotion; 'Tis no longer there that Gallantry appears barefaced; Lewis XIV. seems to have out-liv'd himself, and the gay Customs of the former part of his Reign; That universal Spirit of Love and Pleasure, (that sway'd every Heart with absolute Power) is now no more! Those noble Assemblies are dissolved, where Love was permitted to shew it self without disguise! Then without wonder, two Lovers (inspired by the same desire) might enjoy their mutual Pleasures, for Scandal was lost where all were guilty! Nor could the well-manner'd Persons of either Sex, make their Court more adroitly to their Monarch, than by sorting themselves to his Inclination! Whence proceeds so dismal a Change? Is it because his Age has varied the Season? Be it so, but 'tis not generous to forbid Love to others, because he has out-liv'd the force of it himself; can any thing be more envious? Were it in his power, I believe the whole World should be of one Age and Taste, and not a Mortal appear at Court under Sixty odd: Then Beads and Reliques might be in season, tho' nothing else is now to be seen there, with dull seemingly-Religious Faces! Nor Discourses to be heard but of Saints Days, and their Vigils; Hypocrisy has dispossess'd Love from its lawful and beautiful Throne, and like most absolute usurping Tyranny, reigns uneasily, and not without pain reduces his Subjects to submit to its unbounded Power. Oh! were it possible to look into the King's Breast, to see if his Devotion be true, and how it comes to pass, that he should have Remorse for no other Sin but that, which he is no longer in danger of committing, [Love] which perhaps has been the least Criminal of all his Actions? How is it he still remains unwearied with Persecution, and Power, that he knows not how to permit any other Monarch in Europe to be at ease, unless they be in effect his Creatures? Can this be real Piety? Can this be true Devotion? Oh, no! Religion is always equal and consistent in all things, and no more indulges Sin with, than against, Inclinations. His Vices then have only shifted the scene,‘Tired with Love and surfeited with Joy.’ He hunts with Pleasure the unwearied Round of Ambition; Ambition which has this of admirable in it, is, that still as one Hope is defeated, 'tis recruited with another; and of all the Passions 'tis the latest cloy'd. Ambition, that exorbitant Desire! which is never sufficiently gratify'd, but still encreases with Possession, and which has so entirely fill'd the Soul of Lewis XIV. that all his Actions are subservient to it. Hence it is that with such an austere Air he assumes Devotion, as an unquestion'd Veil to all his Tyranny; nay, 'tis so severely practis'd, that a poor young Lady, if she be but suspected to have a Lover, has a Letter of Lachet sent her to withdraw, as too Libertine an Ornament for a Holy Court.

These Severities (my dear Sister) pass not without Complaint among those Persons, whom Youth and Beauty, have fitted for other Diversions. The Ladies (I believe) would not be displeas'd to see a younger Prince upon the Throne, who has three Sons, all disposed to gay and softer Inclinations; so that we may justly say, The whole Nation groans under Lewis's Tyranny! And that if he oppresses the Men with Taxes, Persecution, and War, he no less constrains the Women by Devotion. I was sitting at my ease behind a Fountain in the Garden at Versailles, the other Evening, when two Court Ladies came to repose themselves near me; I was hid from 'em by a Myrtle hedge; thus they discours'd, Ah, ma belle Comtess, (crys one of 'em) of what value is Youth and Beauty in such a Court as this? We either are not admired, or they must not discover it to us, that we are. Will not old Age, or ill Faces serve well enough to follow the old insensible Monarch to Marli, or Madam Maintenon to St. Cyr? Thank God I do not want Devotion, but I would not altogether forget I am young, and surely born to taste other Joys than what arise from Cant and Prayer; nay, they teach our very Husbands to believe that the Delights of Marriage should have something severe in 'em, and that Excess in all things (but Religion) is to be condemn'd. But their Opinions I could easier forgive, than those Severities, that forbid to us the innocent Pleasure of Admiration, which let a Woman be never so honest, she cannot miss without Inquietudes. Oh, the satisfaction of seeing one's self admired by a Crowd of Adorers, all eager to oblige, watching every Glance; Catching at every turn of my Eyes or graceful Nod; Pressing to do me service; praising, as I pass, my Face, my Shape, my Manner: This Air all languishing, the next moment more gay, all pleasing. Let me tell you, 'tis insufferable Tyranny, inverting the Order of Nature, a Tax upon our Youth and Beauty so exorbitant, that Age and Ugliness is of as great an use and value; and we might have as well been born old, as live young to so little purpose as we do.

I may venture (my dear Sister) to affirm, that in this Lady's, I send you the general Opinion, and present State of the Feminine Court; see then if it can possibly afford those sort of Adventures which you so passionately beg to hear. I suppose 'tis otherwise with you, the Sun seems to rise on the Successes of that Court, as it is declining or setting here; all things appear to us like faded Glories, we droop, we languish, as Persons without Hope. We fear all Accidents since none of late have happened to our Advantage. My dear Sister, adieu, and believe I passionately love and embrace you once more. Adieu.

LETTER II.
To the same from the same; being an Account of the salacious Amours of Madam Montespan, one of the French King's Mistresses, with Lords, Gentlemen, Players, &c.

I Imagine (my dear Sister) that you who are so full of Curiosity, cannot but have read some of the many Memoirs that have been translated, and printed in English, concerning Madam de Montespan, a former and beautiful Mistress of Lewis XIV. You must therein have found, how he took her from her Husband (the late Marquis de Montespan) who retired extreamly dissatisfied from Court, at the Prerogative his Royal Master usurp'd, of taking from Husbands their Wives, whenever they appear'd Charming to him. Madam de Fontange succeeded her in the King's Favour; for (alas!) what Love is there that remains always the same? What Ardours are there which Time does not abate? What Enjoyment that long deserves to be called such? What Transports that do not fade, ev'n before the Beauty that inspires 'em?

Madam Montespan, who had never any great Passion for the Person of the King, saw his Change with less concern than any other wou'd have done, and endeavour'd to comfort her self for his Loss, in the Arms of a Thousand others: In short, she has made her self so great a Slave to Sensual Love; enriching Worthless People to her own Ruin, that we see her at this day the most despis'd, from the most admir'd of her Age. And whereas another, in losing the King's Affections (for the Honour of those Children she has had by him) wou'd have endeavour'd to retrieve her Reputation, and improv'd the great Estate the King's lavish Love had bestow'd upon her; She has run counter to all discretion, and very often seen her self, without a Jewel, the smallest piece of Plate, or perhaps one Pistole. Undone between Cards and Lovers, she has scarce left her self a bare Subsistence; and had not the King wisely foreseen the prodigality of her Temper, and settled eighteen Thousand Crowns a Year to be paid her weekly; I dare affirm, that long ere this she had not had wherewith to eat; but nothing made her so despicable, as her calling that ugly fellow (but excellent Comedian) Labrunne from the Stage to her Service and Bed; where, as Gentleman of the Horse, he rul'd both his Lady and Family for some years, till being detected as a Traytor, the King sent him to languish out the remainder of his Life at Pignerol. Madam Montespan, who had none of those Romantick Weaknesses, call'd Constancy, soon found wherewith to comfort her for the Comedian's absence; for many Fellows more worthless (if possible) soon succeeded to her Favour, in their Turns; among whom, the same Folly pursuing her to her Old Age, she receiv'd one who had, 'tis true, been handsome in the Eye of the whole Town; but so long since, that every body had forgot it but himself; he still retain'd the Name, and was vulgarly call'd Handsom Du Prez; tho he wou'd admit of no other Title but Monsieur le Comte du Prez, Count of the Sacred Roman Empire; and in spight of what the Heraulds cou'd do, he gave the Roman Eagles, and bore 'em upon his Equipage, &c. They at first laugh'd at, and afterwards slighted him as a Madman, and so left him to his Imaginary Grandure. His Oeconomy, as to his Affairs, can have no better a Parallel than his Courage; for if one was little, t'other was less, and he was no better than a Beggar, when he apply'd himself in his Address to Madam Montespan: Her Lord had bin dead about six Months, when she marry'd this Imaginary Count; and I have heard several fay, that she wanted but this last Act of Indiscretion, or rather Height of Folly, to crown or close her foregoing Life, and to make her descend to the Grave, as she had liv'd, the most deservedly despis'd and scorn'd of any Woman living.

From so old, so fantastical, and so ill, yet wellpair'd a Couple, what cou'd be expected but a new Scene of Follies? They were the Theme for Laughter of the whole Kingdom, and wou'd have still better diverted, had they not bin so far despis'd, as to be neglected, and many of their Follies safe from being repeated as too worthless for Conversation. This ridiculous Garb, extravagant Equipage, and great Expence; with his Parade through Paris, in Diamond Buttons, and other fantastical Calls to the Multitude, were the common Theme amongst the Vulgar: For People of Condition had left to speak of 'em; yet thus safely might he have flourish'd, if he had not joyn'd Ingratitude to the rest of his Moral Virtues, and ill us'd that Lady from whence he drew his support. She had call'd to her Family a Grand-daughter of hers, nam'd Madam Briancon; a Lady, full of Youth and Fire, with more Beauty than Discretion; She was parted from her Husband for her criminal Conduct, or at least the Appearance of it. Madam Montespan receiv'd her with open Arms; and as she is passionately fond of new Favourites, of what Sex soever, nothing was well done but what Madam Briancon order'd. The Old Amorous Count of the Sacred Empire was soon cloy'd with his Bride's antiquated Charms; nay, if you will believe Scandal, she was no new thing to him, having several Years before, when Du Prez was in his Beauty, receiv'd him to her Arms: But however it were, he cou'd not every day see so much Youth and Agreeableness as Madam Briancon was Mistriss of, without offering her his Heart. There is certainly a Lex Talionis, a Law of Retaliation in this World, as well as the next; and Madam Montespan, who was her self consummate in Ingratitude, and scarce ever bestow'd a Favour upon the Deserving, now tasted the Return from her own Grandchild and Husband. Madam Briancon accepted his odious Love, because it came well accompany'd with Money, and Presents of whatever he cou'd give her of her Grandmother's, that was most valuable; and so often were they in their Amours, that the Old Lady quickly complain'd of being defrauded; That she had indeed bought a Husband, but another had the greatest and best Property in him: Her Tongue had ever bin too shrill and bitter, not to be a Nuisance to all that heard it; and if upon her Friends, her Intimates and Servants, where she had no occasion, she us'd loudly to exert her 〈◊〉 of scurrilous Railing, what think you became of her, where she was so nearly concern'd? She tore, she roar'd, and dry and old, as she was, she squeez'd out briny baleful Tears, which like drops from Yew-trees, wou'd have scalded the most Verdant Grass. But this little avail'd her, the Count's Vanity was gratify'd by her violent Passions; and Madam Briancon, too charming and too kind, must not be forsaken for her Grandmother. The Fool thought himself Young again, tho it was but an Old Beldame that contended for him, and grew nauseously fond of his Mistress, and intollerably slighting of his Wife; the good jealous Marchioness, no longer able to endure the daily Insults of her younger Charms, dismiss'd Madam Briancon, with a Million of Reproaches; the Consequence of which was, that the Sacred Count took a House for her, and furnishing of it with what was most precious from the Marchioness, he was Ten times more there than at home; nay, so far he carry'd his Ingratitude, that he threatned his Lady with the Loss of her Life, unless she wou'd consent to give him all that was in her Power; Turn'd off her People, put new Ones about her, who were only Spies and Tormenters to her, and refus'd to bring her what was necessary, even to Eating and Drinking; that no longer able to endure his Tyranny, she left her House, and fled for safety to her Sons the Duke de Mayne. From whence she complain'd to the Parliament of Paris, which takes cognizance of such Affairs; and whilst the Process was depending, far beyond her Hopes (or Deserts) it was discover'd, that the Roman Count was some time before his Nuptials with Madam Montespan, marry'd to a Woman, who had been impos'd upon him (by a pleasant Cheat) for a Fortune. The Tryal before the Council of State was very diverting, and his Letters produc'd to his first Wife, (whilst he yet believ'd her a great Lady) wherein he stil'd her Countess of the Sacred Empire, with the Depositions of the Priest, whom he first ask'd to marry 'em; where he gave him an Account of the Good Fortune that was happ'ning to him, tho indeed she was not handsome; but the more like a Woman of Quality. The Case was clearly demonstrated, the Marchioness was reliev'd from her ungrateful Husband, and he adjudg'd to his first Wife, (whom he had barbarously us'd, and left to starve) and sentenc'd as the Law requires, to undergo the Punishment due to him, who shall re-marry during the Life of his Wife: But Madam Briancon, by her Charms, procur'd him the Protection of the Envoy of Savoy, who receiv'd him into his House; and shortly two of the first Dukes, and Peers of the Realm, who had Bail'd him, when he stood committed upon the Marchionesses first Complaint, got him the Royal Pardon; not out of Kindness or Esteem for him, he was not worth it, but Hatred to Madam Montespan; who, when formerly in Power, had made those two mighty Men her Enemies: Therefore let none think to confer Injuries unforgotten, or unreveng'd, since there are none, how despicable soever, but in the Turn of a life, may have opportunity to return the mischief.

Thus, my dear Sister, I have in short giv'n you the Detail of Madam Montespan's Adventure; while yet Du Prez's first Marriage was undiscover'd, he carry'd it with the utmost Insolence against the Marchioness, and in all Companies ridicul'd her, and her Old fond Amours, to all the height imaginable, wrote (or procur'd to be wrote) Numbers of the most scandalous Verses, or Ballads, that ever your Grub-street afforded; and these he dispers'd with his own hand to all Comers, and in all publick Places. Tho' all condemn'd her 〈◊〉 her ill Life and Marriage, yet none took part with him, unless it were some, whose Contempt of her, surmounted their Contempt of him.

Madam Briancon flourishes with the Addresses of the Envoy, at whose House she is seen too often; not but her Beauty has attracted another Lover, and her kind Nature receiv'd him into the Number of the Happy, and surely he deserves the Good Fortune of a Virgin-heart, and one who shall sigh for him alone. 'Tis the Young Count of C_+ new return'd from Travel; and who, to all his other Accomplishments, has this not inconsiderable One, of near Fourscore Thousand Crowns Annual Rent.

Will not this long Letter, and of Adventures too, oblige my dear Sister certainly to conclude, that she may Command all things within the Power of her passionately Tender, and most affectionate Brother and Servant?

LETTER III.
Being a Secret History of the Intrigues, Amours, &c. of the Frince of Hesse in England and Spain.

'TIS very true, Madam, your Ladyship's Memory is most exact; but I think you lay too great a stress upon Accident, for I can term it no other, and you must certainly be mistaken, in giving fore-knowledge to an Old poor woman, in a dirty Chimney-corner, because she hapned to tell the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, that once in two Years he shou'd narrowly escape Death, if he did escape it. Having a near Relation to Colonel Nugent, who was Gentleman of the Horse to His Highness, I often had the Honour of Conversing with the Prince, and am glad 'tis in my Power to oblige you with some Memoirs of the Life of that brave Man; he was second Son to the Younger House of Hesse (call'd) Darmstadt (to distinguish it from Hesse-Cassel the Elder); his Name was George, and, according to the Custom of the Younger Princes of Germany, he was made a Souldier of Fortune; he had distinguish'd himself in several Campaigns, and particularly in the Irish War, where King William gave him a Regiment, and favour'd our Hero with his Esteem. After his Return to Germany, the King of the Romans caress'd, and bestow'd on him the Honour of his Friendship. The Queen of Spain was then Contracted, and Wedded by Proxy to Charles of Spain; she was near related to our Prince: And when the King of the Romans sent him to her Father's Court, to have the Honour of attending her to her Husband (at that time, the Prince of Hesse was very handsom) and tho' afterwards, at the Age of Two and thirty years, when we saw him in England, he appear'd to us like a Man of Forty, Weather-beaten and fatigu'd, yet was he well made, of a good Mien and Height; his Eyes black, and unusually sweet; the Goodness of his Temper was visible in his Countenance; he had a large Soul; generous to Profuseness; believ'd well of all he convers'd with; and wou'd be but with Pain undeceiv'd, when he found that they answer'd not the Opinion he had of 'em. The Queen's Interest procur'd him the Viceroyship of Catalonia, and he held his Court at Barcelona with extreme Splendor. When the King's Death, and the Turn of Affairs call'd him to Court, Cardinal Fortocarero did all that a cunning Politician cou'd, to draw him into the French Interest; but with a Faith unshaken to the House of Austria, he rather chose to resign his Government, and return to Germany.

On his Highness's Arrival in Spain with the new Queen, he found at Court, the Princess Dowager of _____ ; she was a young Widow, extreamly charming, and as sensible of the Pains of Love as of giving them. She could not see the graceful Person of the Prince, which visibly confess'd the Hero, and observe the good Qualities of his Mind by Conversation, without some secret Wishes, that she might not be indifferent to him; nor could the Prince behold so uncommon a Beauty, without Ardent Desires, that she could look on him with a favourable Eye. There was such a Sympathy betwixt the sweet Tempers of the Queen and this Princess, that on the death of the King, she retir'd to Toledo with her Majesty. The Prince as firm as his Desires were, and as much as he ask'd the Love of the Princess, made Love give way to Business and Ambition, went to his Government without informing the Princess with his Passion, fearing the Declaration would oblige a longer Attendance than his Affairs, or the Service of the King would permit: And on the Death of Charles the Second, he was forced to repair to Madrid, in order to quit a Command he could not preserve without a breach of that Honour which he always profess'd; but before he left Spain, he went to take his leave of the Queen, with this satisfaction that he should there see the charming Object of his Desires. And tho' he could hope little from the short Time of his stay, yet the Pleasure of seeing her, would not permit him to think of the Pain it might cost him. He has often told me in Confidence, that the most glorious Evening of his Life was that when he went to take his leave of the Princess at Toledo, where the Cardinal had order'd the Queen to retire. After the usual Compliments, he told her Majesty the Business of his Audience was to receive her Commands for Germany: The Princess waited his return from the Queen, and gave occasion for a Passion as agreeable as tormenting; but before he retir'd, she desir'd his Company to her Closet, for she had some Business with him which ought to be private: He gave her his hand to conduct her, and found her in an unusual Trembling and Disorder. When she was seated, and had paus'd some Moments, with an enchanting Blush, which cover'd her beauteous Face with Vermillion, she cast her languishing and sparkling Eyes upon him, and thus sweetly enquir'd, My Lord, have not Women of such high Quality as mine, do you think, some Prerogative above other Women, or else what does Title signify? But alas! we have the same Weaknesses with the rest of our Sex; are sensible of the same Passions; can hate as cruelly, and love as violently; but with this difference, that we are seldom beloved; at least the first time we are sure to be made Victims to our Quality; and the Civil Laws of Spain oblige Widows of my Rank to retire to a Monastery. What hope is there then for me? What Expectation! should the God of Love, or the bright Queen his Mother, touch my Heart with that Passion, as to those Charming softnesses they so well know how to inspire? And yet it is too true, that I understand but too well the Laws of Tenderness. I am in pain; I almost love; but know not how to assure my self of being belov'd. That alone restrains me from going into those Heights, which Love requires from us.—Ladies of your beauteous Form (answer'd the Prince) (without the advantage of great Titles) are sure to have all the Returns, that so great a Blessing as being belov'd by you can really deserve. But how (said the Princess) if I should cast mine on a Heart already engag'd? Must I either make a Traytor, or be unhappy my self? I may boldly say (return'd the Prince) that before your Highness all Beauties are forgotten; nay, the very Memory is defaced of all preceding Tendernesses: And if we have not been insensible before, it is only to show the mighty difference betwixt those Languors another can inspire, and those Passions your Highness—I'm then understood by you, my Lord, (reply'd the Princess hastily) this moment retire from me, or I shall sink with Confusion. But go no farther than Madrid; take care not to leave our Kingdom, till I have determin'd what to do with you.

Whether his Highness obey'd, I durst not so nicely enquire; but I think from that time he became faithless to the Duke d' Albuquerque's Daughter. He shew'd me the Princesses Picture done upon Vellum, which he always carried about him, without either Case or Frame, in his Pocket-book. Her Hair was flaxen, her Eyes black, and full of the natural Sweetness usual to that Colour. He had it besides in Great hung up in his Closet, and when the Prince would indulge himself, it was in writing Letters to her of a prodigious length; I cannot say fine, for they seem'd to want it; there were Attempts of Passion in them, but nothing answerable to those of the Princess; which made me conclude hers truly the effect of Love, his only of Gratitude. In the freedom I had with his Highness, I found means unknown to him, to Copy four of her Letters, which I send you, that you may judge how Nature would act in Ladies, did not Custom restrain them. But I dare not assure you that they do not suffer extremely in the Translation. In their Originals they have much more Softness, and yet more Force and Fire; yet such as I have made them, I present to you.

The Princess of _____ Letters to the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt.

LETTER I.

Expressing her Ʋneasiness at the News of his Resolution of leaving Spain, and desires before he goes, to hear from him.

THE Queen and Court wait for my Presence, but Love (ever uppermost in my soft Soul) will be hearkned to, though Affairs of the greatest moment were forced to be at a stand, and wait till you are dispatch'd. I hear you are preparing to leave Spain; had your Soul lov'd with that Ardout it ought, this Separation had not been. Love ingenious to its own Satisfaction, would have prevented its own Misfortunes. Had it been my Province, I could have found out a thousand ways to have prevented this Evil. You (stupid as you are) fear to advance one step but by Rule. Know you not that after my confessing Love, I had no more to do? The rest was yours. What Courage is this, when you only dare to wish, and are afraid of acting? What a Soul is that, who declines his Fortune, when with swelling Sails, and prosperous Gales, 'tis more than offer'd him? Do you imagine that every day will present you a Heart like mine?—Go, by this Coldness you are unworthy of what I would have done for you. Did I not bid you boldly ask—What should not that have taught you? What Explanation had that but my self? No Rest, no Sleep should have been yours, till at my Feet you had thank'd me as you ought for a Favour so inestimable. How am I thus, by a soft Resentment, betray'd to make Reproaches foreign to the Manners and Character of a Woman of Honour? Yet surely if ever they are to be pass'd over, 'tis in favour of a Lover belov'd. Come to me to Morrow, but write to me to Night; and write your true Thoughts; mine are, notwithstanding this petty Anger, all yours. Adieu.

You beg me to think of you some times; I every Night see you in my Dreams, judge then whether it is in my power not to think of you.

LETTER II.

Desiring to hear from him.

WHoever would have told me that I could have felt in favour of any Person living, what I feel for you, I should have answered, 'Twas impossible. Write to me by this Courier, but write as I do to you, sincerely; without Art, or without design, but of pleasing: And if any part of that dangerous Poison has touch'd your Heart, with which mine is fill'd; if you can in the least feel any Stings of that Tenderness, with which mine abounds, I shall quickly shew, that Fortune had not forgot you, when she made me yours.

LETTER III.

YOur Letter was my Bed-fellow last Night; I laid it upon my Breast, where my Heart beat it a Thousand welcomes: Tell me what Almighty Power is there in liking, how can it be in Nature, that I have insensibly pass'd the Addresses of all the Great Men of my own Country, yet am wounded by a Stranger, without your ever designing it? Not one Advance on your side, to excuse that in me, which you may cruelly call Levity, whilst I feel, and know 'tis Fate, 'tis irresistible; 'tis what I can't conquer, and must indulge. Beware of sacrificing me to your happy Mistress; I will not name her, least you should find a Pleasure in it, and I would ingross all yours. You deny to return my Letters, and plead Discretion; 'twould have been a better Argument, if you had said, you lov'd and could not restore 'em; how pleas'd should I be if I thought you true, when you write me, that you behold my Rival with much more indifferency, since I have honoured you with my Concern. But I forget you are eternally ingag'd, and I do ill to thrust rudely between two Hearts, where Love seems to intend an Ʋnion; nay, perhaps I am impertinent in writing tedious Letters to a Man in Business, whose Soul is fill'd with something less soft than Love; or if fill'd, 'tis for another, and not for me. Do not enquire too nicely what a Woman of Honour can mean, by owning a Passion for a Man engaged; I dare not yet consult my own Heart upon the Point; all I know is, that my Virtue is what it ought to be. I love without other design, but of making you in love with me; that effected, Fate must rule our Destiny, and be answerable for the Event.

I will not be so rigid as to impose answering my Letters by every Courier; your Leisure and softer Moments be for me; take my Example, I write unartfully, without Method, or perhaps Coherence; my Thoughts naturally (as they arise in my Mind) fall from my Pen, not polish'd by Art, nor better'd by Study, if in Love any Study be of use; therefore make not a Judgment of my Ʋnderstanding, from the disguise my Passion has put it in; or if you must judge, judge truly that 'tis thus unfeignedly they love, who thus unartfully do write.

Could I be sure that it were agreeable to you, I would repeat a thousand times over, that you are more then dear, more than precious to me; the Paper does not blush though I do, but that you see not, nor that inborn Modesty so hard to be dispens'd with; which were you even here before me, would make me a ve•… Woman, and deny all I have this way said to you; nay, th•… Night I last saw you in my Closet, when I and my Passion both strove to rid our selves of it, when I was upon the Point of losing you for ever, without a Sally on my side to favour your Presumption, and dying at that Loss; yet could I make nothing of it, though by the kind Encouragement of my Eyes you ventured at what you guess'd, a pleasing Kiss; with pleasure I could have clasp'd you to my Bosom, by a dear Embrace to have imprinted our cruel parting in your Memory! Yet left I you almost where I found you, though I once had resolved before you went to tell you insinuately and indirectly, but so as any Man, not stupid, might have known that 'twas you alone could make all my Happiness.

LETTER IV.

I'VE so lately seen you, and my Thoughts are so fill'd with that dear Image, that I can't forbear telling you, though at this distance, That Fancy has brought you near, nay, so very near, as to my Bosom; there this Morning I dream'd you were, and the Imagination was so strong, that starting out of my sleep, I left my Dream imperfect; my Senses, had their Concern been less, had not so soon roused themselves to find whether the Object were a real or imaginary Happiness. And I perhaps had longer seen you, nay, I more than saw you; forgive the Pleasure I take in writing freely, and let me instruct you in the Laws of Love, which say, There can be no Indecency in vertuous Love, 'tis Generosity, 'tis Kindness; and unless you love not me, I can't offend. Be my Letters the Test of your Passion, if they are acceptable I must be so, nor think I should dislike you for your Inconstancy to another. I've already told you, you can only offend by indifferency. Should I not cherish that Inconstancy? Should I not be proud of the Exchange? I am, and of your Kindness, which I hope real, because I deserve it should be so. You seem to doubt of the continuance of mine, and think it burns too fierce to last. It would indeed be the greatest Happiness for me; for sure a hopeless distant Passion, is of all things the most miserable State. My whole Endeavours strove; Reason, Pride, Modesty; in short, all the Powers of haughty Woman-kind, inflam'd to the height with an Opinion of her own Worth, not to have let you seen, when here, the Disorder you had made; but in vain I would too have forbid my self the Ease of complaining upon Paper, but the Rack was too exquisite; Self-love carried it above all other Considerations, and I push'd my Fortune in hopes of succeeding: How then do you think I should now do less, when I have the pleasing Prospect of a mutual Passion? Do not believe me weary of the Pursuit, at least till I arrive at that charming Intelligence of Heart, which leaves us nothing farther to desire, than indeed they say we may be suspected to decline, because Human Nature is in it self restless, and loves alteration: But being yet at a vast distance from the Cause, alarm not your self in fear of the Effects; especially where there is not the least Symptoms of such a Change. Therefore if you can love me, boldly love me; without Fears of my Inconstancy, or any Dispondency of your own Merit: Talk no more at that displeasing Distance; let me not find you think your self undeserving of the worthiest Heart, for that seems a secret upbraiding of my Choice. If you must fear, fear only that Fortune may for a long time delay our mutual Pleasure of seeing each other; if ever I am so happy, I'll infuse into your Soul so vast a Profusion of Tenderness, that your self shall own could be only inspired by me; then you will say, your whole Life has pass'd insipidly, without the greatest, most transporting, and most valuable Gift of Nature, and no where to be found but in Hearts mutually loving, and knowing how to be belov'd; yet 〈◊〉 granting a mighty difference in the understanding of the Persons, the more sensible the Love; doubtless 'tis the most capable of those Delights, whose description is too big for words, and which only the Lover's Fancy can do justice to.

I am sorry I can give you no more Particulars of this Amour; for I durst not press the Prince to declare whether he were marry'd, or only promis'd. I believe the former. However, he did not long enjoy her Beauty; but, returning to Germany, was sent to treat upon Secrets of State with the King of England; whose Death succeeding soon after, broke for some time the Prince of Hesse's Measures; so he retir'd to Greenwich, to pass over incognito the Grief he really took for his Loss: 'Twas there that I first had the Honour of his Acquaintance, my ill Health obliging me to take the Air, in hopes of my Recovery. I had not then ever seen his Highness, nor in some years my Cousin Nugent. The Vice-Roys of Catalonia have it in their Power to create whom they please Noble. The Prince had had the Goodness to make him a Count, during his Residence in Spain. I met 'em both in the Park, and did not fail to congratulate and welcom my Cousin into England: I ask'd him who that Foreigner was that I saw with him? Not imagining it to be the Prince, because they had not one Attendant; and Nugent wore his Hat, and treated him but as his Equal; he invited me to their little Lodging at Greenwich, which indeed was very small; nor had they any more than one Servant that waited, without a Livery: I speak most of the Modern Languages, and the Prince did me the Honour to be pleas'd with my Conversation; nay, so far as to discover himself to me, and I persuaded him back to Court, to apply himself to the Ministers, who probably would pursue the Method the King had before his Death resolv'd upon, for the next Campaign; the Queen graciously receiv'd him, and in consultation with Count Wratislaw, the Emperor's Envoy, it was resolv'd according to King William's Intentions, that the Prince of Hesse should be sent to Portugal, to endeavour to draw that King from his Neutrality into the Alliance. Before things could be fix'd for his Departure, the Prince met with several Interruptions, travers'd by the Pensioners of France; for there are but few Negotiations secret in the Court of England; the Delays were so uneasy, that it put him upon a superstitious piece of Weakness (and which indeed was his blind side) of hearing what Astrologers and Fortune-tellers would tell him. Nugent had procur'd him several, among which one ignorant dirty Creature in White friars, a Month before his Departure, told him, that he should not go till the next Month; that he should receive his Dispatch the Sixteenth, depart the Seventeenth; but if he could stay till the Eighteenth, his Voyage would have success; but withal said, he should never come to England again. I must believe that Nugent had a hand in her Intelligence, for, according to what she said, the Prince receiv'd his Orders on the Sixteenth, and went the Seventeenth; the Joy and Eagerness he had, to have surmounted all those Difficulties that had retarded his Voyage, got the better of his Superstition, and would not let him wait for the Eighteenth, which he afterwards repented, when he failed of what he had proposed, for the King of Portugal gave him his Congee without hearkning to any of his Proposals, or the Reasons he offer'd to draw him into the Alliance: The Prince refus'd the Presents that the King sent after him on board his Ship, and departed with all the Chagrin of a disappointed Courtier, whose own Interest (as surely it was his to serve Spain) was equally defeated, he join'd the Squadron where the Duke of Ormond was. They resolved upon a Descent at Barcelona, the Prince depending upon his Intelligence with the Citizens, and the great Love the People had for him, since his being Vice-Roy in Catalonia; but their Designs were discovered, and for that time disappointed. They afterwards fell in at Vigo, with all that Success, which it will be superfluous to repeat to you. Here he found means to receive new Proofs of the Princess's Kindness, with a passionate Letter (too long for me to Copy) full of smiling Hopes that Fortune would shortly unite their Persons, as it had done their Hearts.

He return'd to England with the Duke of Ormond, and was very well receiv'd at Court, notwithstanding the Disappointments he had met with, and the Mortification he had not long after of seeing one of the Queen's Servants succeed, in what he had fail'd; the King of Portugal was drawn into the Alliance, and the Prince's Hopes were still fairer than before; he still maintain'd his Intelligence with the Catalonians, and the Court believ'd so well of it, as to resolve to send a Fleet and Army to attend him, under the Command of the Earl of Peterborough.

Notwithstanding the Prince's Glorious Affair with the Princess of _____ , he found it not amiss at his leisure hours, to unbend himself with the fair English Ladies; his Soul was Passionate, his Temper Amorous and Sweet; he pretended not to be one of those Hero's of Romance, that can subsist upon the bare Imagination of an absent Mistress, and who think it a Crime deserving Death, should they bestow the least Glance upon another. The Prince's Person and Good-will was at the Service of any fair Lady; he liv'd in Splendor, lavish'd away his Money; (for his generous Temper, like Mareschal Turenne, consider'd not the value of it) this gave him Choice enough among the Ladies that were to be purchas'd, with whom he amus'd himself, tho' his Inclinations were all devoted to my Lord W_+ 's Lady; but want of Leisure (and believing her already engaged) hinder'd his Application, tho' he made his Court Regularly to her; as indeed all the Foreigners do. Her living so long in the Court of France, and being Daughter to a King, has given her Conversation that easy turn, and Freedom as makes it very entertaining to all that love the Honour of Conversing with her.

You must have heard of his known Amour with a reputed Daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, a Lady who has had the Honour of Pleasing the first and (then the) greatest Elector of the Empire; he had also an intrigue with the Miss of a Gentleman of your Acquaintance, who is since dead. The Prince had been lost for two or three Nights; an affair of Consequence happning, I was upon the necessary hunt to impart it to him, and was directed to a little blind Lodging, in Soho, where I was told his Highness was incognito, with Ph_+ts Mistress. The Woman of the House happned to be of my Acquaintance, and whilst the Prince was rising, Entertain'd me below in her Parlour, with the good Fortune, and Honour she receiv'd, by his Consummating his Nuptials at her worthless House. I ask'd her how his Quality came to be discover'd; she conjur'd me to Secresy, and told me her Hoyness had (her self) trusted her with it, and that she was sure it must be so. For she as well as the Prince, wore the Order of the Golden Fleece about her Neck, and had promis'd she shou'd attend her Hoyness, into Germany, in Quality of first Lady of her Bed-Chamber, be her Lady Malborough; That she was a vast Fortune, and one of the Coheiresses of the late Earl of Gainsborough. I laught heartily at the Woman•s Relation of the Quality of her Hoyness, and told her as a Friend, that I doubted she wou•d not get much Honour, by keeping such a Hoyness in her House; that to my Knowledge she was no other than a poor Pawn-Broker's Daughter, up two pair of Stairs in Stanhope-Street, till Ph_+t Debauch'd, or at least took her, for she had been amongst Rich's Players before; since when her Mother was remov'd into Leicester-Fields, and kept a House of fair Reception, for who pleas'd to lodge there. My good Acquaintance, who was really an honest Woman, flew out into extream Bitterness against me. How! not a Princess? Impossible! she came home last Night from sitting for her Picture, drest like a Shepherdess, and her fine Diamond Neck-lace broke, as she was running up Stairs, and she cry'd out every Diamond was worth above an Hundred Pound. Oh 'tis an inestimable Neck-lace! the Prince had plunder'd it from Vigo. I bid her take care of what she said against the Princes Honour in that Particular; 'twas enough (how Innocent soever) to bring him before the Council who sat upon the Examination of what was plunder'd; that I was sure he had a Soul too Great, to be guilty of any such thing. She still urg'd the Neck-lace, and as matter of fact produc'd one of the Diamonds, that had bin found that Morning as they clean'd the House; I presently saw how it was, for indeed she had borrow'd it with a Crook, Scrip, Hat, and other Shepherd's Accoutrements from the Play-House. This undeceiv'd my Friend, and made her confess that before she thought her Hoyness very wild, and very vain, and now she found her very bragging; That I told her was as natural to her, as lying. For when Ph_+t had her first, she past at their Lodging for Sr. Guilford Medcalfs's Daughter deceas'd, Lord-Mayor of York, and a Fortune of Twenty Thousand Pounds; that 'twas usual for her to entertain one Man with the Account of how many others had caress'd her; and if by chance, she happned into the Acquaintance of any Woman civiler than her self, she wou'd asperse them to her Fellows, for having debauch'd, and put her to Bed to this Lord, and that Duke; and of mixing Brandy in her Wine, and intoxicating her so, that she did not know what she did. Oh she'll drink like a Fish! answer'd the good Landlady, she had several strong rich Waters for her Mornings Draught; has slept her self Sober three times in a day in my House, and her excuse is, that her Hoyness is going into a cold Country, and must use her self to it, or else she shall be laughed at, where all perpetually drink, and never are disorder'd with it. Here the Prince came to us, and I found him a little out of Countenance at my seeing him there; we went away together. I gave him the Character of his Mistress. He confess'd he was tir'd of her Vanity and Folly, and which was worse began to fear some disorder in his Health; but I fansie it no ill Scene to see my Friend dismissing her Hoyness from her Lodging, and reproaching her for the Scandal she had brought upon her House. I have dwelt too long upon these Fooleries, and yet I took 'em but as an introduction to a Greater. What the Fortune-telling Woman in White-Friars had told the Prince of his Mistress carrying on the Affair he was then going about, confirm'd him in the Opinion, that they had a supernatural Knowledge, tho' she had fail'd in that particular of his coming to England again. Somebody that he was repeating it too, told him that there was one Mrs. Mason in White-Chappel, that was a perfect Witch; he presently ask'd 'em if they had ever seen her? They said no, nor did not intend it; for tho' the silly vulgar reputed her a Witch, they did not believe God had given that Power to any. The Prince perswaded two of 'em to go incognito with him, and at least hear what she cou'd say. They yielded to oblige him; and in a Hackney Coach, to Harrow-Alley away they go. The Prince was a Man that seldom made an Appearance as to Dress, and that day was as plain as possible. They came to the blind Alley on that side that goes into Goodmans-Fields, where they left the Coach, and walkt into the Alley, till they came to a little Ale-House, where upon a Board it was written, that Mrs. Mason the Fortune-Teller liv'd there, up two pair of Stairs. They were carried into a dirty dining Room, enjoyning themselves Silence, least they shou'd be overheard, and their own Words repeated to 'em as Prophesy; after half an Hours waiting, they were shown into a Closet, where Mrs. Mason sat to attend 'em; 'twas so small, the Prince repos'd himself upon a dirty pair of Stairs, that went up thence into a Garret. Her manner is to ask no Questions, but taking the Persons two Hands together, looks carefully in 'em; and then falls to telling, as fast as she can, the past the present, and the future; this I'm sure off, she cou'd have no Intelligence of who the Prince was, nor his Design; for themselves knew it not but just as they went about it. After she had dispatch'd the Ladies, the Prince took the Chair, and sat before the Witch; when she had look'd into his Hands, she told him she did not know what to say to him. He ask'd her why? She answer'd because he shou'd be something greater than ever she had seen; they laugh'd at her mistake; she proceeded to tell him, there was a certain great and very fair Lady, that wou'd make his Fortune, if he liv'd but two Years longer, and that he shou'd be easy for the rest of his Days, die old, and in his Bed; but that an Eminent Danger threaten'd him, either by Fire, or Water. In two Years, the malevolence of his evil Destiny wou'd be past, that he had already escaped several hazards, one with a Sword in his Thigh, another with a shot in his Head, and once Drowning, &c. The Prince in returning from the Witch, was very Melancholy, and told the Ladies that it was true, he had actually receiv'd two such Wounds; pull'd back his Perriwig, and shew'd where the Musket-ball went into his Head, and worked out at his Neck. They laugh'd at the Prediction, yet one of 'em was so far inclin'd to believe, that she resolved to try her again; and taking a Friend with her that never had heard of Mrs. Mason, they chang'd Cloaths with their Chamber Maids, and went to her; she apply'd her self to the Servants of the Mistresses and told 'em Fortunes accordingly, and to the Lady who had been there before, (whom she did not know again) quite contrary to what she had said when she was there with the Prince, which inevitably shows us, that she has no other Inspiration but a random Guess; which sometimes hits, but a thousand times oftner misses, unless it were that Heav'n (who takes more than a common Care of Hero's) put into this ignorant Woman's Mouth, Words proper for the Subject; and by Superstition fitting him to believe, gave him warning to be wary, how for two Years he continu'd to expose himself. But Love and Glory calling him, he hearkn'd not to any presages of his evil Destiny, tho' almost a Miracle was shown; (for I reckon it a remote one, that Mrs. Mason shou'd happen upon the right Places where he was wounded;) nay tho' he believ'd all that she said, as he has often assur'd me, and that his Blood was adust, and melancholy with that belief; yet negligent of the Warning he had receiv'd, in hopes of being for ever Happy in the Arms of his Beauteous Queen, he rush'd thro' Clouds of Fire and Smoke at the Siege of Barcelona, to the fatal Assault, where he was laid dead by the Shot of a thousand Muskets, and all his hopes of Ambition and Love buried in that glorious Ruin. Yet shall his Memory survive amongst the Mourning Catalonians, who unfeignedly lamented his Death; it was indeed a Blow to Charles the Third of Austria; he lost a Man of considerable Interest in that part of Spain, and one whom the Dowagers favour render'd considerable at Court; for however all things were manag'd by the French Faction, there were several of the Grandees continu'd faithful to the House of Austria, by the wise Management of that charming Queen. It is only permitted us to guess at the Princess's Sorrow, or rather Despair, at the Death of her Hero; she who so diligently had lov'd, and caus'd to be brought to Plymouth a little before his departure, a Present to the value of Forty thousand Pound in Money, Plate and Jewels for his use; without doubt she is inconsolable. I am sorry (for your sake) that I have no means of being inform'd of what so great a Queen said, and acted at the loss of her Lover; possibly one day I may oblige you with some particulars, if Prince Henry of Hesse D'armstadt (Prince George's Brother, who went to Barcelona with him) ever return to England. We may hence comfort our selves at our Misfortunes, (when little Miseries befall us) to think the Great and Glorious are no more exempt than the meanest Mortal; Human Vicissitudes are as natural as to Breath, and seldom does Happiness settle in a point, but varying as the Compass, with only Snatches and sudden Gusts, visits her greatest Favourites but by Moments; whilst Miseries, slow and solemn, take State, and where they once appear, will not be dispossest with Ease. This Prince was by Nature perfectly Great and Good; he shou'd have wore a Crown for an Example of Generosity and Vertue to reigning Kings. There wanted but six Weeks when he was kill'd of the Prediction of two Years being elapsed. I can dwell no longer on this mournful Subject, but beg leave to assure you (however abruptly I may end) that I am most devoutly,

Madam,
Your most obedient, and most humble Servant.

I forgot to tell you, Mrs. Mason is very Rich; but as she had her Rise in that dirty Ale-house, she foresees by her Art, that the Spirit of Divination will depart from her, when ever she forsakes it; so that the Inspiration lies in the place, &c.

LETTER IV.
Being an Account of an Amour of a young Widow of the Town and two Gallants, Mr. C. of D. and Mr. S_+ J_+.

I Have no Entertainment for you, Dear Sir James, that can quit the Trouble of Reading my Letters, were they properly my own: Therefore I seek supply from a richer Fountain, rather than leave you undiverted. The Fair little Widow, that cou'd charm you in her Cypress; a Dress ominous to a Lover less daring, has shew'd us that she was to be taken, tho' not by your Battery: For yours was not the murd'ring Cannon, that now-a-days does all the execution; Vows and Oaths going for little: The powerfull'st God is glittering Gold, which our Friend Mr. C_+ very well understands; and therefore apply'd himself that way to our Widow, and by whispering false Hopes to the Governour, got possession of the Town; as I understand the Story, he had given in to her Proposals Money to carry on her Law-Suit: But whether her Charms did not answer his Expectations, or that he be of Sir Charles Sidley's Opinion, in his Bellamira, That 'tis no Sin to cousin Them, that cousin the World, he did not fail to baulk the Lady's Expectations, and Heroically to stand the brunt of an amorous Dun. The Letters hapning by a secret way to fall into my hands, I have transcrib'd 'em for you to read in your Lime-Tree-Walk, when you are barren of a better Entertainment; I can assure you that they are Matter of Fact, and literally true.

Her First LETTER to Mr. C_+

To desire the Loan of some Money, on the Promise of which he had been happy.

IN your Arms I forgot all my Misfortunes, and the Business of our Acquaintance; but am awaked by approaching Ruin, from that pleasing Dream. My Lawyer is such an Infidel, that nothing but Miracles can convince him; and Money is such to me at this time: In short, I lose the Term without it, and have no prospect but starving out the rest of my life after. The Writ is ready, all but Sealing; yet he won't suffer it to be done, till his Bill be discharged; Think if I am worth that Generosity, and spare me the Confusion of speaking, which 'tis much easier for me to want, than do. If I pass Wednesday Morning, the whole Term is lost to me; and I may then be counted amongst those things that were, and are no more.

Mr. C_+ lov'd his Money too well to admit of either Compassion for the Fair, or Justice to his own Promise; he thought fit to leave this Letter unanswer'd. But over a Glass of Wine, when the Linen was taken away, after Dinner, at Mr. S. J's House, he did not fail to divert him with the Adventure; shew'd him the Letter, and ingeniously prided himself in deceiving her. Mr. S_+ J_+ ask'd him, If he wou'd not take it ill if he endeavour'd to succeed him in the Lady's favour? Mr. C_+ gave him Liberty of Conscience, to say and write what he thought fit. By this means the Widow became acquainted with her Misfortune, and how cruelly Mr. C_+ had exposed her, and her Letter. She thereupon thought fit to send him this second Epistle, with an intent to have made him asham'd of his telling her Secret.

Her Second LETTER to the same,

To thank him for a Bill of Two hundred Pounds, but sent by another.

YOƲ have found the handsomest way in the World to oblige me; for however you disguised the Hand, the Directions that came to me this Morning by the Peny-Post, with a Bank-Bill of Two hundred Guineas, must come from you; for I had ask'd, nor obliged no body else, or ••re Mr. S._+ J_+ was not so Gallant: If you did not oblige me your self, I desire you will ask him if he did. But why shou'd I be so vain, to think of a person, that had not receiv'd the least Civility from me? No, it must be you, and I am all on fire to thank you, in the best manner; it has, I hope, sav'd my Cause, I'm sure paid my Lawyers, and may give me Four hundred Pound a year; judge then of the Obligation I have to you; if ever I live to recover my Estate, you shall certainly be paid in kind, for that is the least I can do to my Benefactor: In the mean time, send me word when we shall meet at Mrs. T_+ 's: 'Tis a long while methinks since Sunday Night; I shall now see you with double pleasure; that is to say, with Gratitude, as well as Love.

His LETTER to the fair Widow,

Assuring her he sent her no Bill, nor ever was so expensive in his Pleasures.

HAD not my Hopes of being my own Ambassadour, rather than this Paper, made me defer it from Hour to Hour, I had e're now, Madam, congratulated with you, upon the unusual Goodness of the World, and at the same time approv'd my self not so vain as to accept of Praises not at all my due. I am by Nature a Sceptick, and doubtful of all things past, and to come; and therefore shou'd have been as uncertain in this, as all other things. But naming the Sum, I quickly found it cannot be I, who have not the Tenth part of that to spare; nor wou'd the Indies supply me, if the Mite I offer to every Inclination, were of such a piece of Paper. How extraordinary a thing is it to receive unknown Obligations in this World? Therefore sure it cannot be, but the Magnificent will follow the present; and some Rich Sultan Banker has declared you his Favorite, and espoused you his Sultana. And methinks I see you already Triumphant in the midst of your Slaves, where the most unworthy is even my Envy. So far does Love exceed all else in Dignity, as well as Power; that whilst the greatest Monarchs, most favorite Slaves, look vile to every impartial Eye, the Chains of Love add Honour to all that wear 'em: Therefore I make it my Petition, and 'tis all my Ambition to bear a Link or two of your Chains amongst the many: For tho' there may be more deserving, there can be none more faithful.

Her Third LETTER,

A Banter upon Mr. C_+ for his exposing her Necessities.

THis is prodigious Modesty in you to deny all pretence to an Obligation, which I'm convinc'd, if not immediately, yet collaterally proceeds from you. Nor let me forget to congratulate that unbounded Inclination of yours, to which I owe such substantial Joys, as are beyond the Power of Fate to recall, and which you (all Sceptick as you are) cannot so far overact your part, as to doubt of what you've felt is past; nay, the present Things are beyond dispute: For when with extream Gratitude and Honour you had to your Friends condol'd the Incapacity of that little Indies of yours, which had been so profusely lavisht to every Inclination, that scarce the Tenth part remain'd, to oblige a fond, young, believing, undone Woman, who had thrown her self upon your Generosity, trusting to your Promises and Offers. The Rumour catch'd from your kind, aloud, complaining Voice, run from one to another, where you had taken care to spread it, till at length it rested in the Breast of an Old Magnifico; whose Heart is large as his Possessions, tho' his Years exceeding both: He first appear'd to me in the shape of a Bank-Bill, and (as you guessed) quickly after in his own, you may imagin, prepossess'd as my Heart was, with your faithful Image, which was the most welcom; tho' from him I receiv'd the Obligation, yet to you I owe it; since had you not, tho' your self unable to relieve with small seven thousand Pound a year, complain'd to others of my wants, I still had been a silent sufferer. How worthily can I think you my noble Benefactor? How enough to the World shall I proclaim your Generosity and Honour? How reward so Magnificent a Bounty? What Vandike shall I employ, to tell with his admirable Pencil succeeding Ages, how generous you, how grateful I? Let me (high on a Throne) be drawn with all that glittering Wealth about me, you have so well described, whilst you rais'd equal to me, in Vanity, in Pride, and Pleasures, free from the least Link of that Chain you speak of, shall employ all my Thoughts with Eyes languishing, and Hands pointing to that shining Store about us, shall seem to say all this I owe to you: For had you not in kind compassion told my secret, I had not thus been bless'd; Fame, Honour, Discretion, Secrecy, and a thousand other ridiculous Vertues, shall disappear before us; Luxurious Love shall tell all our Hours to us, whilst in pleasure our five Senses shall be improved to fifty▪ Thus may you ever flourish, thus ever live, and your Years prove immortal, as your Merits.

Thus, my dear Baronet, have I endeavour'd to divert you with two Letters that are, I'm sure in their kinds Originals: I'll leave you to make what Reflections you please upon the Wit and Sincerity of either; the last admits of no dispute in me, when it pretends to the Title of, Sir,

Your most faithful, and most humble, Servant.

LETTER V.
From a Lady to a Lady; being an Account of her own Adventures, and Loss of her Lovers.

YES my Dear, my Ever-valu'd Friend, you shall here know all that my poor tortur'd Soul has suffer'd, in these long cruel three Years separation. Have I one spark of Joy remaining in my Soul? Your Letter brought it forth; and tho' dead to Hope, and lost to Happiness, or ev'n wish of Happiness, I find still a pleasure in being esteem'd by you. Oh Clorinda! in other Loves there is no Constancy; even Friendship to me is but insipid; fit only to amuse a Soul unfeeling a more exalted Heat. Had our Sex been different, I fear, my Dear, by this, we had forgot to Love; or perhaps have learnt to Hate: Tho' that's a Passion so Foreign to my Mind, that, as yet, I am ignorant of what it means: My Soul rebounds not at an Injury; engross'd by softer Passions, it has no room to entertain so rough a Guest.

You ask me the meaning of that melancholy Strain, that runs through all my Letters; and conjure me to explain my self with Friendship. You well remember me, that when we parted, I was envy'd by most, and by all thought happy. 'Tis true, I had not suffer'd Shipwrack then, but since. Oh, what have I not endur'd! Will you have patience to hear a three years Anguish? 'Tis all dark; a melancholy Gloom; my gayer Genius is fled and lost in its Shades: I'm the Reverse of what I was; no more the Pleasure of the World; the Delight of Conversation; no more belov'd, yet still loving. Is there a Misery beyond this? Is there a Rack in Nature I have not felt? May I not well complain? But to give you in particular my Misfortunes: You left me in the possession of a Heart worthy mine; but the World and Interest divided us: An Eminent Law-Suit ruin'd my Lover's Fortune, in which part of mine was involv'd, and left him no hopes of repairing it, but by a Wife more Rich than I cou'd be. The coming Term was to take him in Execution for a Sum too mighty for him to struggle with. This was kept a Secret from me, for fear of my Disquiets. At length, finding him excessive melancholy and dejected, beyond what I cou'd ever have suspected from his Fortitude of Soul, he told me his Misfortunes, That he was undone; but his own Sorrows were inconsiderable to him in comparison of mine. He was indeed by Promise, by Vows and Inclination my Husband: But shou•d I call him to the performance, we both were lost; and must expect to languish out the rest of his life in Prison, oppress'd with Misery and Wants: That such a Lady had been offer'd him for a Wife, considerable in her Fortune, and so destitute of Charms, that it could not give me the least Suspicion, that Inconstancy had any part in what was his only Refuge, the last Pla•k that could preserve him from Shipwreck. I took Time to weigh and examine the Truth of what he said; but was soon convinced of his ill Circumstances, and could not suffer my Heart to hesitate a moment on what it should do, to save him; the Thoughts were death to me, that for my sake, he should live poor, contemn'd, and wretched; I concluded, that tho' (like other Men) he might prove ungrateful, 'twas a more tolerable Evil, than having him (through my means) unfortunate. Let all, who have not generous Souls (as I suppose they will) condemn me for what they may call Weakness: But sure Clorinda does better know how to value so unpresidented a Sacrifice. I gave up all my Happiness to his Interest, and by Permission saw him three Weeks after marry'd. Indeed, Misfortunes in prospect are only guess'd at; they are not to be describ'd till felt, tho' I had prepar'd my self for all that could be expected of Sufferings; yet when once I began to feel the real Load, I sunk under 'em; since he was safe and happy, no matter what became of me; neither Honour nor Policy would permit his Visits, for his Engagements with me had been no secret; his Lady would soon have heard of 'em, and consequently have had her own and his Pleasure poison'd that way. Besides, I was resolved to put an end to a Flame, that could not now burn with Innocence: I gave my self up to the Diversions of the World, Visits Cards, Plays, all that ought to divert the Mind 〈◊〉 my Love was to suffer a violent Death, since it would not resign to a natural; but in vain, it withstood the Essorts of Reason, Diversions, Duty; it mock'd all my Endeavours, and augmenting by Resistance, threw me into a violent Illness; out of which, I did not, but after much danger, recover; the Pain was at my Heart, which the Physicians had no Cure for. Then it was, my Clorinda. that, with the rest of the World, you heard the Report of my death; and truly I was so near it, that it was the work of ten Months, before I could stand alone, or under my own hand give you to know I was not yet so happy as to be Nothing. They remov'd me into the Country, to try their last Experiment, the change of Air. By the Time of my return back to London, almost two Years had pass'd since that fatal Marriage. My Heart still engag'd, still tortur'd by a Love, which I could not perswade my self to be Criminal, because I once had a Right and Title to his Love; though when I consider'd my self had releas'd all Pretences, I doubly blamed my Heart for persevering; but Love is a Power too mighty for us to controul. I saw my Murderer, and my old Wounds bleed afresh at the fatal Sight; he complained of his own want of Happiness, and secretly pleas'd my Heart by finding, if his Grief were less, his Satisfaction was not more. How insignificant a Relief is this? How is it, that a Power so mighty as Love, can be serv'd, and find its account in Trifles? He complain'd, that Marriage had not answer'd his End; for though it sav'd him from impending Ruin, in his Law-Suit, and discharg'd his Execution; yet many other of his Debts being unpaid, gave him much uneasiness. That his Lady, like a right Widow, had secur'd the greatest part of her Fortune to her own use; their Humours were extreamly different, and he had little Hopes of prevailing on hers, because he wanted the first Principles, that should give his their agrecable Motion; she lov'd Flattery, as most Ladies do, and he was not Master of it; he had almost said of Kindness too: In short, he was too dangerous for my Conversation; his Eyes had still the same Beauty, his Words their usual Softness, and I think a certain melancholy Air heightned all his Charms; should I dwell on every Circumstance, the Conversation must tire you; in a word, I tore my self from these Enchantments, and forbid my Heart such Criminal Delights: Yet my Torment pursu'd me wheresoever I fled; I had once more recourse to the Country, and went by Recommendation to Board in Bristol, at a Gentleman's House, who, with his Family, were all Strangers to me. A Chronick Distemper, which my Melancholy had contracted, could only expect its Cure from change of Air. The Family I was receiv'd into, consisted of an old well-natur'd Gentleman, govern'd by his spleenetick Wife, who had as much Cunning, as Nature alone could give her; and had her Education been good, her Wit might have been more considerable. They had formerly merchandiz'd, but being pretty easy in the World, had lately left off. A Brother of hers liv'd in the Family, who had been bred up with them in their Way; he appear'd to me as a Person well made, and handsome, but perfectly unfashion'd, having had no Conversation, but Business; who declin'd Women's Company, and rarely ever spoke among the Men; he seldom 〈◊〉 at home, and I believe I was near seven Months in the House with him, before we had any Conversation, tho' you know me easy of Access, and pleas'd with Company; my business was to s•ck Diversion which my ill Health had made perfectly necessary to me. An ugly unmarried Maid of Thirty (a Sister of theirs) brought up the Rear of this goodly Family, and here, in reading, and conversing with some of the Town who visited Mrs. Woudbe (which you must know is my Landlady's Name) I pass'd a considerable Time; the Poison still at my Heart, daily wasting by a consuming hopeless Fire, what would I not have done for my Cure? How was I alone, of all human kind, plagn'd with a never dying Passion? I had read indeed, that Inconstancy was counted the greatest Weakness of the weakest Sex; but here I imagin'd it would have been meritorious, for there can be no Appeal from Marriage; that certainly ought to destroy all precedent Inclinations, and they must be unpardonable, who preserve theirs after it.

At length another Brother (the 'Squire of Mrs. Woudbe's Family) came upon a Visit to Bristol; he dress'd at the Ladies, had seen some of the World, was half bred, as to Gallantry, and about that pitch in Understanding; but good Natur'd, and a very honest Gentleman; what his Brother wanted in Tongue, he supply'd; and 'twas not his fault if Conversation languish'd; his kind Endeavours would relieve it, though sometimes at the Expence of his Reputation, as to Wit. (For 'tis very hard for great Talkers always to escape Impertinence,) Mr. Peregrine Worthy was his Name; he quickly told me, that his Heart had been mortgag'd above these two Years, to a young Lady passionately fond of him; but he was one, whom her Father would not permit her to marry, because his Estate did not answer the Fortune he could give her. He was not so young as his Brother by six Years, nor so well shaped, but much more polish'd; and it came into my Head, by a malicious Diversion, to make him in Love with me, notwithstanding his Engagement: It seem'd ••••…erable, that any other Woman should be qui•• Possessor of the Heart she lov'd, whilst I was so unhappy to be depriv'd of what I had adored. The general ill Opinion I had of all Mens Constancy, made me conclude I should have no great trouble in conquering Peregrine's; I look'd not at the Consequence, nor had debated with my self what to do with that Toy, his Heart, or that Lumber, his Person, were they once made an Offering to me. What I wanted was present Amusement; for, as Poisons are said to expel Poisons, I would with all my Heart have lov'd any Thing, to put out of my mind the Phantom that haunted me. But this was not the Diamond that was to cut mine; for tho' we enter'd into a Commerce of Gallantry, and after his departure writ Letters as mutually tender, as if we had been really touch'd; I suppose we both remain'd unwounded by each other. All I know of my side is, that my former Passion found not the least abatement; and therefore 'tis easy to conclude, a new one did not succeed. At length young Worthy fell so ill, that his Life was for some time in danger. Mrs. Woudbe had Business call'd her to London; after she was gone, I debated with my self, whether I should be so ill-natur'd, to let a Brother of the Family, where I was, die, and never give him a Visit. I knew he did not love Company, and least of all, Ladies; but my good Manners and good Nature over-ruling, I resolved to do my Duty, though it should prove unacceptable. I came to his Bed-side, and had a much civiller Reception than I expected; the heighth of his Distemper, as I then supposed, had master'd his Native Roughness. I found him in a violent Fever; and having too lately had an expensive Experience of what Physicians could do, I was able to advise him in many things proper for the Recovery of his Health. Had Mrs. Woudbe been there I should not have attempted it, for she has that Quality peculiar to her self, to believe none besides her self knowing in any thing; and that she is ignorant of nothing. Mrs. Abigal the Surly, her Sister, of Thirty, (dull, and heavy in make, as well as Understanding) was his chief Nurse. I had Compassion for him, in the ill hands he was in, and therefore failed not to be often with him, which he seem'd to receive very civilly; his Fever abated, but his Temper being melancholy, the Distemper had so seiz'd his Spirits, that I found it must be a powerful Diversion of the Mind, that could be able to throw it thence; but whence it should proceed I could not guess, to a Man wholly free from Vice or Passions; I found his Understanding very good, what he did speak, proper, and well imagin'd; and I doubted not but he would shew us he had Wit enough, could he once dispence with Custom and Modesty, that had hitherto kept him silent. We read to him Books of Wit and Gallantry; I found he had a true Taste of things, and could commend in the right place; thus a sort of Satisfaction succeeded Compassion, and I felt my self better pleased in his Company, than I imagin'd I could have been. We grew acquainted; his Conversation became free and genteel; we chanced to talk of Love, he protested he never knew what the least Spark of it meant; and my Judgment was, he never would, not considering that Nature makes nothing in vain; however, a defect of Constitution might happen. I talk'd of the Language of the Eyes; he innocently protested, he knew not what I meant by that; neither could he imagine: Nay, was more and more confounded, when I told him Lovers Eyes could talk; he assured me he never minded the difference of Glances, he thought all Eyes had the same Looks, tho' not the same Colour. This was wonderful, I thought, from one who had himself the finest I ever saw; and a very bad encouragement for me, if I had had the least design upon his Heart, tho' in jest, as before, with his Brother. He liked my Company, or my Library, or both, so well, that after he was up and dress'd, he never was from us. I suted him with the gay part of reading, being properest to remove his Melancholy. We chanced one day to light upon Brown's Translation of Fontenel's and Aristaenetus's Letters; he seem'd mightily pleas'd with 'em; there was one from a Lady, who permits a Lover all but the last Favour, and gives him leave to touch her Breast, to kiss her Eyes, her Mouth, and squeeze her with her Stays off; he could not imagine what Pleasure could be taken in that. Not long after, we were returning (with Mistress Abigal) late from a Visit out of Town, where we had been merrily entertain'd, and had all three, contrary to Custom, drank enough to elevate us. Bacchus is counted a Friend to Love; after putting me into the Coach, young Worthy staid not for Compliments, with Mrs. Abigal, but threw himself with a Gaiety (wholly new to him) on the Seat by me; 'twas dark, and tho' the surly Maid was our Opposite, in the Humour we were all in, it pass'd for Raillery: He pretended to make the Lady's Experiment of squeezing, since he found I had only a Morning-Wastcoat on, thence he attempted to kiss my Cheek, then my Lips; and if I'm not mistaken, could no longer wonder where the Pleasure was of That. After we came home, we continued the Frolick, sitting upon Mrs. Abigal's Bed; he sighed after every Kiss, no ill Omen of a Heart touch'd with Pleasure. I may truly protest to you, that for Nine successive Years, that I had been tormented with an unintermitting Passion, this was the only Moment that I first found it suspended. I confess, I was then lost to any Thoughts but the present; there his Eyes first gave, and knew the distinction of Looks; he could no longer boast of Ignorance, they had a Softness wholly new; so full of sparkling Fire, so Tender, nay, so Passionate, that I catched the Distemper into mine, and look'd on his with an uncommon Pleasure; you may perhaps too nicely blame me for giving into those Delights, but I was suddenly betray'd by one, from whom I never expected any danger, and therefore could not arm my self against it. I was also charm'd, with thinking my self the first that gave him Wishes, that gave him Desire, and Joy; that Heart, that formerly insensible Heart, seem'd no longer so to me. I was pleas'd to encourage a Pleasure that destroy'd my former Pain, and I found young Worthy had in an hour done more towards my Cure, than all my own whole two Years endeavour. Mrs. Abigal thought our Conversation something too Tender; the Wine working out in ill Nature with her, as in Kindness with us; she was impertinent enough to have offended us, had she been worth it. After this, when he found me alone, he would sometimes pretend to the Pleasure of a Kiss, but never declar'd himself; so that I believed my self mistaken, when I reckon'd upon my Conquest. He took occasion to be always with me; we read, we walk'd, we eat together, but still not a word of Love; he became unimaginably improv'd like Cymon for Iphigenia, in the Fable; he dress'd, he discours'd, he no longer avoided the Ladies Company. All the World wonder'd at the Change; he became genteel as any Body, and appear'd with as good an Air; I told you at first, that he was perfectly well-shap'd; to me, they attributed these Improvements, calling him my Scholar; my Pain was inverted from London to the Country. I would have given all the World to hear his Mouth confirm, what his Eyes so often told me. What Laws? What Manners? What Customs have our Sex? How must we be Tantaliz'd? How Tortur'd? Why was it not permitted to search his Heart? Why not to ask him, if yet he knew whether there was a Deity call'd Love? Our perpetual Opportunities, our long Converse, might have well excus'd it; but Modesty over-rul'd even Curiosity and Vanity: I was forced to suffer in Uncertainty and Silence. Thus a whole Year run on since that Moment he first began to make an Impression upon my Heart. At length, amidst the pleasing Liberty of un-number'd Kisses, he brought out (with doubting Modesty) that transporting word, I love you. I could have swore that till that minute, I never knew what Joy, what Pleasure was; I could not stay for Reflection, I could not speak; I more than spoke; I hug'd him in an extatick manner, more Charming, more Intelligible than a Thousand words. You have known, my dear Clorinda, the Force of Love; wonder not then, that thus, in me, he exerted his Tyrannick Sway; or think the Person I've describ'd, because lower than my self in Rank, unworthy of my Heart; his was by inclination Noble, and Dryden, who so well knew the Passions, tells us,

Love either finds Equality, or makes it;

Like Death he knows no difference in degrees,

But plains and levels all.

After that he would perhaps have no longer scrupled to speak his Passion, but our Opportunities of being alone were few; what was now no Secret to me, was long since, by his Actions, suspected by the Family. Mrs. Woudbe and Mrs. Abigal, were our perpetual Companions; nay, we had an additional Spy, a Friend of Mrs. Woudbe's, that was received there upon some Misfortunes of her Husband. This was a Damsel, that pretended to Airs and Charms; would ogle my Lover, and (whether by their desires, or her own Inclinations) attempted to have made a diversion of his Kindness. She offer'd at so many Advances, that my jealous Eyes called 'em unpardonable. However, her Charms were no way dangerous, and I believe I need have given my self no pain that way. This Creature won upon my easy Nature by her Assiduities; and she us'd often to rally at Mrs. Woudbe's fears for her Brother. Thus were we interrupted in the full Course of our Amour; and 'twas impossible to speak without being over-heard, one or both of the Sisters were perpetually upon the hearken. It was not so when any other Company was with me, for I had a ridiculous Pretender or two out of the Town, which had not my Heart been engag'd, might perhaps have serv'd me to laugh at. But I was ever uneasy, as well as Worthy, out of each others Company; and tho' we could only steal a Glance, or sometimes the Touch of the hand, Fancy improv'd our Pleasures, and made them greater than any other Satisfaction out of our selves! My first Fires were in their full force, the Object only changed by an invisible Transmutation. I lov'd to the heighth of all my former disorder, but it was with a more pleasing Pain, a secret Satisfaction, in having made a Conquest over that hitherto inexorable Virgin Heart!

I conceive their Fears were, least young Worthy should marry me; I was a Widow with an incumber'd Jointure, and his Affairs requir'd a Wife with a Fortune in ready Money. However, our Intelligence had proceeded no farther than the word Love; and it seems to me, that he had not form'd (no more than my self) any designs towards the possession of what he lov'd.

Mrs. Woudbe, and Mrs. Marwoud, (the Name of the other Lady) were invited to an Entertaniment in the Town, that was like to hold till late! Mrs. Abigal was diverted another way, so that I was left alone; the old Husband being abroad upon his Occasions, Young Worthy Ignorant of their Designs, (for they kept it from us) was likewise from Home: The Weather was hot, I undrest my self, to a loose Night-Gown, and Marseilles Petticoat, and laid me down after Dinner upon the Bed to sleep. Young Worthy return'd by instinct, or the Whispers of his good Genius, as he calls it; and hearing all were gone out, came as usual to my Chamber: I cast my Eyes to the Door as it open'd, and saw him with so elevated a joy, that scarce gave him time to shut it after him. For running to me as I lay, he threw himself upon my Mouth, and Eyes, and so transportedly kiss'd me, that I cou'd no longer doubt but his Modesty was giving place to his Desires; when hearing some body come up the Stairs. (which answer'd exactly to my Chamber) I broke from his Arms, and opening the Door, was ready to swoon at the Sight of Mrs. Woudbe, return'd wery ill, or pretendedly so: She wou'd have gone in but I shut it after me, and directed her into the Dining-Room. She askt me who I had with me, I told her (in utmost Confusion) a Gentleman; She said why don't you then, Madam, go to him? So I must, answer'd I. And returning, shut the Door after me, but the Key was left on the outside. Young Worthy saw my Disorder, and the guilty Air which yet I cou'd not recover: I told him tho' we were never so Innocent, all Appearances were against us. My undress, the Dishabilie of the Bed, the Door shut upon us, and my refusal to let her enter: So that happen what wou'd for his Sake, I was resolved his Sister shou'd not see him, who most diligently kept Centry in the Dining-Room, to watch who shou'd come out. I ran the Hazard and Scandal of being suspected with any other rather than being confirm'd with him! She goes down to the Servants, to enquire who was with me, they tell her none but her Brother, who was come in two Moments before her. She return'd again to her post in the Dining-Room, having not so far lost her respect to attempt my Chamber Door; tho' as I told you the Key was on the outside. I I was at my wits end for Invention, and wou'd have him get out of my Dressing-room-Window upon the Leads, that answer'd to a Window in another part of the House, and which by chance was then open; from whence he might descend the back Stairs, and possibly get off unseen. He objected some Men that were working in the next Neighbours Yard: I told him in a Case like that, something must be hazarded. And therefore removing with Expedition, the Glass and Toylet, that was spread upon a Table under that Window; he shot in a Moment from one to the other, and good Fortune favouring him, got down the Stairs, and through the House without any of their People seeing him! This was a Lucky Conveyance, successful Legerdemain. And I recovering my Fright, cou'd not chose but laugh at the sick Lady upon Duty; she stir'd not from her Post, (I wonder how her Patience cou'd hold from interrupting us;) till after three Hours, (I calling for Candles) She ask'd the Servant who brought 'em, who was with me? And she answering no body: You must imagine what she cou'd think. She had set one Centry at the Street Door, which how they escaped seeing Worthy go out I can't imagine, her self had been upon the watch above; I had told her there was a Gentleman in the Chamber with me; one Maid says 'tis her Brother, and soon after another tells her there was no body there. My apparent Confusion, and Dishabily: All these were what confounded even her cunning. I believe till that Minute, she suspected not that her Brother had discover'd to me his Love, but the Appearances were now Strong; and she imagin'd us, to be really Criminal. Why shou'd I of a sudden be so undrest? Why shut up alone with her Brother, where she was refused enterance? Why so confus'd? These were indeed circumstantial Evidences: But what cou'd I have said had she enter'd, and found us as at first? It wou'd have certainly condemn'd us; and getting him off so was all that was left for us to do; as making the best of a bad Market. 'Twas at worst a moot point, whether he was with me or no. Politick Mrs. Woudbe said nothing to her Brother, or me, but kept close, as well as Abigal, to their watch. We had not time to speak together for above a Week after. One Night he put a paper into my Hand, which I have transcrib'd, because your Curiosity may be oblig'd by reading a first Love-Letter without Art or Ornament, the Effects only of what that Passion cou'd dictate; for it seem'd to me 'twas to get the better of his Modesty, that cou'd not (had we had Opportunity,) so freely permit him to explain himself.

The First LETTER,

Expressing the Desire of a young Lover under Constraint.

TELL me (my Dear Inspiring Mistress,) how shall I express the Tender Passion of my Love? Instruct your willing Scholar, and give Directions, by what means I may obtain an uncontroul'd access to your Dear Person, without the Apprehension of disspiriting Fear. The Genius's that haunt your Chamber, prevent the Pleasure of your private Conversation, and puts me into insupportable Pain to suppress the Appearance of the glowing Flames of Love raging in my Breast.

If you wou'd preserve my Life, you must suddenly find out some way how uninterrupted I may freely taste the sweets of Love! 'Tis not in the Power of humane Nature unprov'd, to conceive the inestimable Pleasures of powerful Love! a Pleasure so great, and so transporting, that 'tis inexpressible! My Thoughts too eagerly press upon one another, and strive which shall tell you first, how much I Love. To describe your Bright Charms, is too great an Attempt for my weak Genius; I dare only say, I feel the Effect, in Extacy and Rapture! I doubt not but your Goodness will excuse and pardon all defects of Nature; especially when you've my Heart, a Sacrifice for all.

Oh Inconstancy: but why that thought? What need have I to fear? Have not I receiv'd marks of special Favour? But 'tis a Woman: Yet the best of all her Sex; all Truth, and Goodness! Ay but humane Nature (in all things) Loves change; the highest Tides produce the lowest Ebbs. Remember, Fair One, who taught me first to Love; who brought me into this Labyrinth: Will you now desert me? Will you now leave me to be lost inevitably? tell me truly: Or if I'm lost, tell me not at all I'm past recovery, 'tis not in the power of Time, the coolest Thoughts of Reason, nothing less than Death, can unfix my Love grounded upon so firm an Esteem; rivetted immoveable within my Heart, I faint—give me Life: Let me live, and live to love you.

To tell you the Pleasure this Letter gave me, wou'd too much confirm you in the Opinion of my Weakness. The next day (being Sunday) Mrs. Marwoud went with me to Church, as I was kneeling, I cou'd not forbear taking out the Paper to read it; I thought her at her Devotions, and never minded her squint over my Shoulders: Whence she gain'd the first part of the Letter, which confirm'd her Opinion (from the Sight of the Character) whence it came. My Lover, for a Night or two after staid in my Chamber, later by half an Hour than the rest; the Door was open, and we cou'd not speak so low, but we were overheard. Those precious Moments! those delightful Embraces! those piercing Kisses, never to be recall'd! all was at the Mercy of Mrs. Woudbe, who by hearkning, gave her self a Confirmation to her Fears. And the Second Night met him at his own Chamber-Door (as he came from me) with millions of Reproaches; I knew nothing of what was past till the next Night he put this Second Letter into my Hand.

The Second LETTER.

Excusing himself from being any more alone.

'TIS impossible to express the Concern with which I write to you upon this unpleasant Subject! We were over-heard (if not seen) last Night, by my married Sister; she receiv'd me at the head of the Stairs, shut my Chamber-Door, and began to open.

I was not so much surpris'd as I thought I shou'd have bin, upon such an Occasion! she said, she cou'd not believe what she had been told, had not her own Ears convinc'd her as to the Truth of it! she recounted to me many particular Passages, especially that, when you (in so much Confusion) thrust her out of the Room, when you had only a Night-Gown on, and I in the Chamber with you.

I answer'd; That she had given her self a great deal of Trouble, to little purpose: I did not suppose but she'd a truer Opinion of Both; that indeed I lik'd to be with you, because you were improving and delightful Company, but no further; and that a •ealous Listner hearing imperfectly some Words, and not others, turn'd all to the Subject they were apprehensive of, or suspected. If the talk was never so remote, nothing more uncertain when the sound of Words cannot be distinguish'd; I urg'd my own Innocence, so we parted, and appeas'd her pretty well upon the promise never to be alone with you again, since it gave her so much uneasiness. Lest you shou'd be ignorant of what has past, I thought it proper this way to acquaint you with it, that you might not judge untruly of my Neglect. The hazard is at present too great for me to break my Promise, therefore if you have (and I can't think otherwise) a real value for me; you won't desire it. Believe me, I shall ever have a sincere Love and Esteem for you, who are the same (or more) to me, than ever. Tell me your Thoughts in a Letter, and suddenly, for I'm impatient till I hear from you.

Pride, and Indignation seiz'd me, at the reading of this, in a Stile so different from the former. What his Dependance upon his Sister in point of Interest was, I cou'd not tell; but I thought (be it never so great) he made too large a Sacrifice to it, and such as Love could never forgive him; that I was discover'd, and my Honour wrongfully suspected, was not half my Concern. Tho' that must needs sensibly affect a Soul haughty like mine, and who wou'd rather meet Death, than Shame. I gave him my answer next Morning, wherein I complain'd of the weakness of that Love, which cou'd not stand one Assault, the rest you may conclude by his Reply.

The Third LETER,

In Vindication of his doubted Love.

WHAT have I wrote that you interpret so much to my Disadvantage? I am surpris'd at your Answer. You take my meaning quite contrary to my Intentions; don't believe I can renounce and forsake you, in whom I have first my chiefest Happiness! I can't express the Tenderness of my Affection• for you! believe me, you shall never find the Fervency of my Love turn'd into Coolness, or my Sincerity into Flattery; nor my Soul guilty of any Ingratitude▪ If you have any Love for me, don't perplex you• self, for that gives me great Ʋneasiness; nor imagin• I can have one unkind Thought for you, I love you most dearly well indeed: Time will produce it, and convince you of the Truth of all I say, when Oppor •unity permits me to show how much, how unalterably I am yours.

I shou'd not have given you these Letters at •ength, but only to beg your Judgment of my Lover's Sincerity; he was some time before this about departing from us, upon his own business, with stupid Mrs. Abigal for his House-keeper: I conceive Mrs. Woudbe was of use to him (she governing her Husband) in point of Stock, or Partnership, that made him so cautious of disobliging her. She Closeted him the next day, employing three Hours in railing at me, with the most prodigious, absurd Abuses, that Envy, or Malice, or the Devil himself cou'd invent. Who does not know the power of an ill Tongue upon weak Minds? He ought to have consider'd it, that Interest and Revenge dictated to them; and have, with Fortitude and Justice, withstood any Impression they wou'd have made upon him. I believe indeed he was proof to a great part of it, till industriously Mrs. Marwoud (owing me a good Turn, for preventing her a Conquest she had a desire to) told him, I was a Lady only seeking my Diversions, and in whom Vanity so much prevail'd, as to expose his Letter to her, and then repeated part of what she had cunningly read over my Shoulder: He persisted in his denial, that he had never writ to me any; but when next we met, I found his Eyes declin'd me; and no longer animated by those bewitching, softning Glances, that sweetned all the Cruelties of Fortune, and which Love of me first taught; I pursu'd 'em, but they were lost to me; I found time to ask the Cause of the Change: He answer'd, I had expos'd his Letter, 'twas what he cou'd not account to himself for; and therefore must begin to practise a difficult Care upon his Heart, since I did but laugh at him. I had not leisure to answer, but upon Paper endeavour'd to convince him how the Matter hapned: This gave me more pain than I can express. If they cou'd succeed in such common Arts, of making a misunderstanding between us, 'twas in vain for me to expect the prospect of any happiness. I suffer'd more real anguish by his false displeasure than I can describe. My Letter wrought so far upon him, that at the next Meeting I found the kindling Fire returning to his Eyes; and when, upon the first opportunity, he caught me in his Arms to kiss me, I felt the same Ease, the same Release from Pain, as a Writch took from the Rack; or from that more exquisite Torture, the Rack of Nature; the Ease a Woman feels, releas'd from Mother-pains: He said he had in vain strove for his Cure; the more he strove, the harder it was to conquer. But, my Clorinda, I found how dear I was like to pay for that Letter which had so transported me: Oh! Why must the Extremity of Pleasure, produce the Extremity of Pain? I found his Mind daily shaken, ev'n from its Foundation. He never wou'd believe, but that I had exposed his Letter. And all that cou'd be said, was, That he endeavour'd to forgive it me. But 'twas a Weakness he did not think I cou'd have been guilty of: And if on the Side of Love I lost no ground with him, I suffer'd much and wrongfully in his Esteem; besides, the Pain I had been in, taught him the Power he had over me, and which upon all occasions he too much exerted; perplexing me as he pleas'd; taking delight in the Alternate pains and pleasure, that 〈◊〉 cou'd raise in me, and which I can't forgive him; for this was all done by Snatches: for since the first discovery, I never had so much as one quarter of an hours time to talk the matter over with him. Thus stands the present State of our Amour; he is gone to his own House, distant from ours: These three long tedious Days and Nights I have liv'd, and liv'd without one Sight of him. Tell me sincerely, my Clorinda, (thou infallible Judge of Hearts) What dost thou believe of his? Cou'd I but find my self in earnest slighted, Pride and Disdain in my haughty Soul must cure me: For tho' I so long against my Will persisted constant to my first Engagements, it was, because our Separation was the work of cruel Fortune, in which Ʋnkindness had not any part. 'Twill be vain to expect my Cure from Reason, for that points to Mutual Love, as the greatest Good. I am not (my Clorinda) born to Happiness; when young betray'd, and married where I cou'd never affect: You know the next, how my first dear Inclinations were cross'd; see if I have any better hopes of this: Fortune cruelly is against me; I can't hope not to be happy: Oh, restore me then by your wise Counsels, to that bless'd State of Indifferency; Extinguish in me, if it be possible, these eternal Sparks of Love, or teach me to transfer it to a brighter, a more worthy Object; improve this humane, to a Love Divine: Let me there only fix my Eternal Hopes of unfading Joys, of Pleasures unknowing a decay, where (without Reproach) it will be meritorious to excell in Fondness; there only, where excess of Passion, gives (without Remorse) excess of Pleasure, free from those allays attending Transitory Joys; Oh! aid me here to fix my Hopes, my Happiness, without End, and without Change, as I am yours.

LETTER VII.
A Renunciation of Chymistry.

TIS to me, since my late Reflections and self Discourses, a plain Illusion of some evil Spirit, that any Body of sense believes in Chymistry; nor can I otherwise imagine how your Scrub should be yet Venerable. I am heartily glad I am cur'd of all those Hopes, and prefer Jealousy of my Mistress, to the Torment of a Philosophick Doubt, and think that a less fantastick Affliction than this: How can you let Scrub still mislead you? How can the Devil delude in his own Shape? If I come to Town time enough, and may be admitted of your Politick Council, we will contrive a part in a Play for Roxana; were she drawn affecting, and unfit for those very Airs, she would be thought in reallity to have, it would methinks be miraculously surprising, to turn all her natural Faults to stupid Deformities, and make the awkard Woman a skilful Actress. I long to see Dr. Garth's nine days Wonder; of that date I think you say was the Edition. You tell me, you long to see what I have done; when you do, you'll find it like all other strong Desires, end in disappointment; for there is neither Love, Gallantry, or Poetry in it; but what to me surpasses at present the Charms of 'em all, downright Religion, which all you Wits laugh at, but indeed laugh at for want of Reflection; for if you'd allow it your Consideration, you'd all be Votaries, it has so much of your only good Pleasure: I assure you I am going to my Prayers, which profusion of Delight is imbitter'd only by the Thought, that you, and all my Friends, will not share in it.

LETTER VIII.
A Letter of Friendship.

THE first Visit I should have made in Town had been to you, but that I have some Vexations to remove before I can be at Rest and Liberty: Besides, Mrs P_+s (now my greatest Terror) has prevented my venturing to you. Be pleas'd to send me a Billet, wherein I may know I am in your Favour, and that you'll assist me with your usual, seasonable, and habile Friendship, on this occasion, and you will extreamly oblige,

Madam,
Your most obedient Servant, R_+ St_+le.

LETTER IX.
Consisting of various Heads.

Dear Madam,

YOurs of Saturday Night, I just now receiv'd, and am oblig'd to you for your Condolance of my lost Mistress, but you make up the misfortune on the account of your Recovery, tho you tell me my other is also vanish'd. 'Tis very generous of the Princess to forgive me so far, as to send me her Service; as much Roxana as she is on the Stage, she is Statira elsewhere: I would, methinks, write Panegyrick on so great an Heroine, as a Woman that can forgive an Injury, an Injury done to her Beauty; be pleas'd, Madam, to preserve yours with your Health, and stay as long as you can before you are Immortal, which your Genius has ensur'd you. I heartily pray for you; and have, while I invoke your Happiness, a reason for Devotion, out of which you cannot rally me. I am,

Madam,
Your most obedient, and most humble Servant, R_+ St_+le.

I shall be reliev'd here, I think, to morrow, and be commanded to Greenwich.

LETTER X.
A Congratulation on the Encrease of the Lady's Riches.

'TIS an hour, I would say an Age, since my last to you; and I find that Joy has something in it, as troublesome as Grief can bring. Your Accession of Wealth, you'll be apt to think the occasion of my repeated Impertinence: 'Tis, methinks, an injury to me that you are so rich, since your Fortune may lessen the sincerity of my professing an Admiration for you: But, Madam, a Truth in the search of Nature could be found only by your Industry, who are your self the best Pattern of what she can do; all I can say to you is, may you ever live in the (till now imagin'd) Riches of Chymistry, and adorn'd with all the Panegyrick of Poetry, if any thing in the latter can add to the Author of so excellent Pieces as your own: Nothing but the News in yours could inspire me to so much calmness of Mind, as to be able to tell you, I am,

Madam,
Your most obedient, humble Servant, R_+ St_+le.

LETTER XI.
An Answer to a Lady that had desired to make him a Visit in the Country.

FATE would have exerted its utmost Severity, had it loaded me with your Unkindness, after a Misfortune which nothing but that can equal; I mean the death of an Uncle, who was to me instead of a Father: I have been with him during part of his Illness, and staid to see him interr'd, which was the occasion of my having but just now found your Letter, in which I can never sufficiently admire the Generosity of your Temper; who, though you had seemingly a real Cause to be angry, could yet bestow new Favours, when the Balance was already so much on your side. I could with Transport accept the Offer you make, were it not for some Relations we have with us, and some other Reasons I could tell you, which make it at present not so convenient, but will, I hope, shortly be otherwise. Though my Absence prevented me from hearing of you, it should not however have made me thus forgetful of writing, had my Thoughts not been disturb'd with so sad an Object, as render'd them unfit for Love and You, who producing only the most pleasing Ideas, should, Halcyon-like, brood upon a Calm. Pray think of me as one who has the greatest Esteem in the World for you, and who assures you of it without Art, but with a great deal of Sincerity. I am,

Henry Blount.

LETTER XII.
Two Letters of Love, by the Late D_+ of D_+

RAvish'd with reflecting on past Delights, and more with Expectation of those to come; for some time after I left you, I found no room for any Thoughts but Joy: At last your going out of Town like a black sullen Storm, dasht all my pleasing Hopes, and struck me worse than Thunder. If this cruel Journey cannot be put off, let me at least live in hopes of seeing you in the Country, and that it may be suddenly, else I shall wish I had never tasted of Joys, which serve only to make me the more unhappy, by losing them as soon as I know how much they are to be valu'd.

LETTER XIII.

THE News your Letter brought me, and which I did not receive till Mid-Night, made me fall into a Distemper as much worse than the Former, as the pains of the Mind, exceed those of the Body, since we are come to that cruel point of Time, that separates me from the only Pleasure I wou'd live to taste. Give me your Permission, and as I told you in my last I will find a means to come down in some disguise.

I here send you my Picture; there was another doing, which wou'd have been better. Now I will burn it, and at the same time curse my hard Fate, for depriving me of so many happy Moments, which (my Dear) nothing but your return can restore.

FINIS.

THE CONTENTS.

- LETTER I. From an English Gentleman in France, to his Sister in England, giving her an Account of the Change of that Court from Gallantry to Devotion, or from open Irreligion to Hypocrisy. p. 3.

- Letter II. To the same from the same; being an Account of the salacious Amours of Madam Montespan, one of the French King's Mistresses, with Lords, Gentlemen, Players, &c. p. 8.

- Letter III. Being a Secret History of the Intrigues, Amours, &c. of the Prince of Hesse in England and Spain. p. 14.

- The Princess of _____ Letters to the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt. p. 19, 20, 21, 23.

- Letter IV. Being an Account of an Amour of a young Widow of the Town and two Gallants, Mr. C. of D. and Mr. S. J. p. 35.

- Letter V. From a Lady to a Lady; being an Account of her own Adventures, and loss of her Lovers. p. 40.

- Letter VII. A Renunciation of Chymistry. p. 72.

- Letter VIII. A Letter of Friendship. p. 73.

- Letter IX. Consisting of various Heads. p. 74.

- Letter X. A Congratulation on the Encrease of the Lady's Riches. p. 75.

- Letter XI. An Answer to a Lady that ••…d desired to make him a Visit in the Country.

- Letter XII, XIII. Of Love, by the late D. of D_+.

Information about this book

Title statement

The history of the Earl of Warwick, sirnam'd the King-maker: containing his amours, and other memorable transactions. By the author of the Memoirs of the English court.

Aulnoy, Madame d' (Marie-Catherine), 1650 or 51-1705.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
13 Banbury Road
Oxford
OX2 6NN
ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4617

ID [isbn10]

1106016165

ID [isbn13]

9781106016164

ID [TCP]

K063758.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3314747612

ID [ECLL]

0842800300

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The history of the Earl of Warwick, sirnam'd the King-maker: containing his amours, and other memorable transactions. By the author of the Memoirs of the English court., Aulnoy, Madame d' (Marie-Catherine), 1650 or 51-1705.. [4],199,[1];175,[1],40,51-78,[2]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed, and sold by J. Woodward; and J. Morphew,. 1708.. [By Marie Catherine de La Mothe, Countess d' Aulnoy.] [The third part, 'The remaining part of the unknown lady's pacquet of letters', consists of sheets Aaa-Eee of 'Memoirs of the Court of England'.] [Text is continuous despite the pagination.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT76174.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2p5.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

This electronic text file was keyed from page images and partially proofread for accuracy. Character capture and encoding have been done following the guidelines of the ECCO Text Creation Partnership, which correspond roughly to the recommendations found in Level 4 of the TEI in Libraries Guidelines. Digital page images are linked to the text file.