Ibrahim, or the Illustrious Bassa, an electronic editionHenry CoganMadeleine de ScuderyEmory University, Lewis H. Beck CenterAtlanta, Georgia20092009, Lewis H. Beck Center, Emory University.
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inquiries about this text's availability, please contact:Lewis H. Beck CenterEmory UniversityRobert W. Woodruss LibraryAtlanta, GA  30322-0053United States of AmericaEmail: beckctr@emory.eduEmory Women Writers Resource ProjectSheila CavanaghScudery, Madeleine de and Henry CoganIbrahim, or the Illustrious BassaLondon: Humphrey Mossley, William Bentley, and Thomas Heath1652This text was created by the Lewis H. Beck Center as a
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Digital page images are linked to the text file.Library of Congress Subject Headings CatalogEarly Modern through the 18th CenturyEnglishCaucasianUneditedProseGreat Britain1600=1699English literature--Early modern, 1500-1700.Women--France--History--17th century--Sources.May 26, 2009Irene MiddletonBeck Center Fellow.XML tags inserted in compliance with TEI guidelines using TEILITE.coat of arms labled 'Wm Constable Esq. F. R. S. & F. A. S.'Engraving labeled 'Ibrahim or The Illustrious Bassa.'IBRAHIM.OR THE ILLVSTRIOUS BASSA.AN EXCELLENT NEW ROMANCE.
       The Whole Work, In Foure Parts.Written in FRENCH by Monsieur de Scudery, AND NOW ENGLISHED BY HENRY COGAN, Gent.LONDON,Printed for Humphrey Mosley, and the Princes Armes in St. Pauls Church-yard; William Bentley, and Thomas Heath, in Cavent-Garden.M. DC. LII.TO THE HIGH AND EXCELLENT LADY
MARY, Dutches of RICHMOND and LENNOX.MadamMy Author, having in this his Work represented a Lady, transcendent in all
persections, both of body and minde, in
the person of his incomparable Isabella,
selected out of all the choisest beauties of France the
great and vertuous Dutches of Roban as her nearest
parrallel, to dedicate it unto. In imitation of whom
I have presumed, from amongst the most accomplished Ladies of England, to make choyce of your
Grace to present this Illustrious Princess of Monaco
unto, as the true picture of your self, wherein you may
behold lively pourtrai'd forth all the many rare, and
excellent graces and vertues, wherewith Heaven hath
so happily beautified you. Be pleased then, great
Dutches, to accept thereof, not according to the unworthiness of the presenter, but according to the merit


of the present, which exhibites to the view of the
world, besides many other remarkable passages, all
that is most eminently desirable in that Sex, whereof
your Grace being one of the chief, will no doubt,
out of that innated goodness, and sweetness of disposition, which is naturally incident thereunto, vouchsafe graciously to receive this mean, but hearty offering of
Madam
Your Graces most humbly
devoted servantHenry Cogan.
THE PREFACE.I Do not know what kind of praise the Antients thought they
gave to that Painter, who not able to end his work, finished
it accidently by throwing his pencill against his Picture; but
I know very well, that it should not have obliged me, and
that should have taken it rather for a Satyre, than an Elogium. The operations of the spirit are too important to be left
to the conduct of chance, and I had rather bee accused
for fayling out of knowledge, than for doing well without minding it. There is
nothing which temeritie doth not undertake, and which fortune doth not bring
to passe; but when a man relyes on those two guides, if he doth not erre, hee
may erre; and of this sort, even when the events are successfull no glory is
merited thereby. Every art hath its certain rules, which by infallible meanes
lead to the ends propofed; and provided that an Architect takes his measures right, he is assured of the beauty of his building. Beleeve not for all this,
Reader, that I will conclude from thence my work, is compleate, because I have
followed the rules which may render it so; I know that it is of this labour, as
of the Mathematicall Sciences, where the opperation may fail, but the art doth
never fail; nor doe I make this discourse but to shew you, that is I have lest
some faults in my Book, they are the effects of my weakeness, and not of my
negligence. Suffer mee then to discover unto you all the resorts of this
frame, and let you see, is not all that I have done, at leastwise all that I have
indevored to doe.Whereas we cannot be knowing but of that which others do teach us, & that it
is for him that comes after,to follow them who preced him, I have beleeved, that
for the laying the ground-plot of this work, we are to consult with the Grecians,
who have been our first Masters, persue the course which they have held, & iabour in imitating them to arrive at the same end, which those great men propounded to themselves. I have seen in those famous Romanzes of antiquity,that
in imitation of the Epique Poem there is a principall action whereunto all the
rest, which raign over all the work, are fastned, and which makes them that they
are not imployed, but for the conducting of it to its perfection. The action in 
Homers Iliades is the destruction of Troy; in his Odysseas the return of Ulysses to Ithaca; in Uirgill the death of Turnus,or to say better, the conquest of Italy; neerer to our times, in Tasso the taking of Jerusalem: and to passe from the Poem to the Romanze, which is my principall object, in Heliodorus the marriage of Theagines and Cariclia. It is not because the Episodes in the






one, and the severall Histories in the other, are not rather beauties, than defects; but it is alwaies necessary, that the adress of him which imployes them should
hold them in some sort to this principall action, to the end, that by this ingenious concatenation, all the parts of them should make but one body, and that
nothing may be seen in them which is loose and unprofitable. Thus the mariage of my Justiniano and his Isabella, being the object which I have proposed unto my self, I have imployed all my care so to doe, that all the parts of my
work may tend to that conclusion; that there may be a strong connexion between
them; and that, except the obstacle which fortune opposeth to the desires of my
Heros, all things may advance, or at lestwise indeavor to advance his mariage
which is the end of my labor. Now those great Geniusses of antiquity, from whō I borrow my light, knowing that well-ordering is one of the principall parts of
a piece, have given so excellent a one to their speaking pictures, that it would be
as much stupididitie, as pride, not to imitate them. They have not done like those
Painters, who present in one and the same cloth a Prince in the Cradle, upon the
Throne, & in the Tombe, perplexing, by this so little judicious a confusion, him,
that considers their work; but with an incomparable adress they begin their History in the middle, so to give some suspence to the Reader, even from the first opening of the book; and to confine themselves within reasonable bounds they
have made the History (as I likewise have done after them) not to last above a year, the rest being delivered by narration. Thus all things being ingeniously
placed, and of a just greatness, no doubt but pleasure will redound from thence
to him that beholds them, and glory to him that hath done them. But amongst
all the rules which are to be observed in the composition of these workes, that of
true resemblance is without question the most necessary; it is, as it were, the
fundamentall stone of this building, and but upon which it cannot subsist;
without it nothing can move, without it nothing can please: and if this charming deceiver doth not beguile the mind in Romanzes, this kind of reading
disgusts, instead of intertaining it: I have labored then never to eloigue my
self from it, and to that purpose I have observed the manners, customes, Religions, and inclinations of people : And to give a more true resemblance to
things, I have made the foundations of my work Historicall, my principall personages such as are marked out in the true History for illustrious persons, and
the warres effective. This is the way doubtless, whereby one may arrive at his
end; for when as falshood and truth are confounded by a dextrus hand, wit
hath much adoe to disintangle them, and is not easily carried to destroy that
which pleaseth it; contrarily, when as invention doth not make use of this artifice, and that falshood is produced openly,this gross untruth makes no impresion in the soul, nor gives any delight: As indeed how should I bee touched
with the misfortunes of the Queen of Gundaya, and of the King of Astrobacia when as I know their very Kingdomes are not in the Vniversall Mapp, or,
to say better, in the being of things? But this is not the only defect which
may carry us from true resemblance, for we have at other times seen Romanzes which set before us monsters, in thinking to let us see Miracles; their Authors by adhering too much to wonders have made Grotesques, which have not
a little of the visions of a burning Feaver; and one might demand of these





Mesieurs with more reason, than the Duke of Ferara did of Ariosto, after he had read his Olando, Messer Lodovico done diavolo havete pigliato tante coyonerie? As for me, I hopd, that hte more naturall adventures are, the more satisfaction they give; and the ordinary course of the Sun seemes more mervailous to me, than the strange and deadly rayes of Comets; for which reason it is also that I have not caused so many Shipwracks, as there are in some antient Romanzes; and to speak seriously Du Bartas might say of these Authors,That with their word they bind,Or loose, at will, the blowing of the wind.So as one might think that Æolus hath given them the Winds inclosed in a bagg as he gave them to Vlysses so patly doe they unchain them; they make
tempests and shipwracks when they please, they raise them on the Pacifique Sea,
they find rocks and shelves where the most expert Pilots have never observed
any: But they which dispose thus of the winds, know not, how the Prophet
doth assure us, that God keepes them in his Treasures; and that Philosophy, as
clear sighted as it is, could never discover their retreat. Howbeit I pretend not
hereby to banish Shipwracks from Romanzes, I approve of them in the workes
of others, and make use of them in mine; I know likewise, that the Sea is the
Scene most proper to make great changes in, and that some have named it the
Theater of inconstancie; but as all excess is vicious, I have made use of it but
moderately, for to conserve true resembling: Now the same design is the cause
also, that my Heros is not oppressed with such a prodigious quantity of accidents as arrive unto some others, for that according to my sense, the same is
far from true resemblance,the life of no man having ever been so crost. It would
be better in my oppinion to separate the adventures, to form divers Histories
of them, and to make persons acting, thereby to appear both fertile, and judicious together, and to be still within this so necessary true resemblance. And
indeed they who have made one man alone defeat whole Armies, have forgotten
the Proverb which saith, not one against two, and know not that antiquitie
doth assure us, how Hercules would in that case be too weak. It is without all
doubt, that to represent a true heroicall courage, one should make it execute some
thing extraordinary, as it were by a transport of the Heros; but he must not
continue in that sort, for so those incredible actions would degenerate into ridiculous fables,and never move the mind. This fault is the cause also of committing another; for they which doe nothing but heap adventure upon adventure, without ornament,and without stirring up passions by the artifices of Rhetorique, are irkesome, in thinking to be the more intertayning. This dry narration, and without art, hath more of an old Chronicle, than of a Romanze
which may very well be imbelished with those ornaments, since History, as severe and scrupulous as it is, doth not forbear imploying them. Certain Authors, after they have described an adventure, a daring design, or some surprising event, able to possess one with the bravest apprehensions in the world
are contented to assure us, that such a Heros thought of very gallant things
without telling us what they are; and this is that alone which I desre to know:




For how can I tell, whether in these events fortune hath not done as much as
he? whether his valor be not a brutish valor? and whether he hath born the
misfortunes that arrived unto him, as a worthy man should doe? it is not by
things without him, it is not by the caprichioes of destinie, that I will judge of
him; it is by the motions of his soul, and by that which he speaketh. I honor
all them that write at this day; I know their persous, their workes, their merits; but as canonizing is for none but the dead, they will not take it ill is I doe
not deifie them, since they are living. And in this occasion I propose no other
example, than the great and incomparable Urfé, certainly it must be acknowledged that he hath merited his reputation; that the love which all the earth
beares him is just; and that so many disserent Nations, which have translated
his Book into their tongues, had reason to doe it: as for me, I confess openly,
that I am his adorer; these twenty yeares I have loved him; he is indeed admirable over all; he is fertile in his inventions, and in inventious reasonable;
every thing in him is mervailous, every thing in him is excellent; and that
which is more important, every thing in him is naturall, and truly resembling:
But amongst many rare matters, that which I most esteem of is, that he knowes
how to touch the passions so delicately, that he may be called the Painter of the
soul; hee goes searching out in the bottom of hearts the most secret thoughes;
and in the diversity of natures, which he represents, every one findes his own
pourtrait,so thatIs amongst mortalls any beThat merits Altars, Ursé's heWho can alone pretend thereto.Certainly there is nothing more important in this kinde of composition,
than strongly to imprint the idea, or (to say better) the image of the Heroes
in the minde of the Reader, but in such sort, as is they were known to them; for
that it is which interesseth him in their adventures, & from thence his delight
commeth, now to make them be known perfectly, it is not sufficient to say how
many times they have suffered shipwrack, and how times they have incountred robbers, but their inclinations must be made to appear by their
discourse: otherwise one may rightly apply to these dumb Heroes that
excellent mot to of Antiquity, Speake that I may see thee. And if from
true resemblance, and inclinations, expressed by words, wee will pass unto
manners, goe from the pleasant to the profitable, and from delight to example, I am to tell you, Reader, that here vertue is seen to bee alwaies recompenced, and vice alwaies punished, is he that hath followed his owne unruliness
hath not by a just and sensible repentance obtained grace from Heaven; to which
purpose I have also observed equality of manners in all the persons that do act,
unless it be whereas they are disordered by passious, and touched with remorse.
I have had a care likewise to deal in such sort, as the faults, which great ones
have committed in my History, should be caused either by love, or by ambition,
which are the noblest of passions, and that they be imputed to the evill counsell
of flatterers; that so the respect, which is alwaies due unto Kings, may be preserved. You shall see there, Reader, if I be not deceived, the comliness of things
and conditions exactly enough observed; neither have I put any thing into my




Book which the Ladies may not read without blushing. And if you see not my
Hero persecuted with Love by Women, it is not because he was not amiable ,
and that he could not be loved, but because it would clash with civility in
the persons of Ladies, and with true resemblance in that of men, who rarely
shew themselves cruell unto them, nor in doing it could have any good grace:
Finally, whether things ought to be so, or whether I have judged of my Hero
by mine own weakness, I would not expose his fidelity to that dangerous tryall,
but have been contented to make no Hilas, nor yet an Hipolitus of
him. But whilst I speak of civilitie, it is fit I should tell you (for fear I be
accused of failing therein) that if you see throughout all my Work, when as
Soliman is spoken unto, thy Highness, thy Majesty, and that in conclusion
he is treated with thee, and not with you, it is not for want of Respect, but
contrarily it is to have the more, and to observe the custom of those peope,
who sbeak after that sort to their Soveraigns. And is the authority of the
living may be of as much force, as that of the dead, you shall find examples
of it in the most famous Othomans, and you shall see that their Authors
have not been afraid to imploy in their own Tongue a manner of speaking,
which they have drawn from the Greek and Latin; and then too I have made
it appear clearly, that I have not done it without design, for unless it be
when as the Turks speak to the Sultan, or he to his inferiors, I have never
made use of it, and either of them doth use it to each other. Now for fear it
may be objected unto me, that I have approached some incidents nearer than
the History hath shewed them to be, great Virgil shall be my warrant, who in
his divine Æneads hath made Dido appear four Ages after her own; wherefore I have beleeved I might do of some moneths, what he hath done of so
many years, and that I was not to be afraid of erring, as long as I followed
so good a guide. I know not likewise whether some may not take it ill, that my
Hero and Heroina are not Kings; but besides that the generous do put no
difference between wearing of Crowns, and meritiing them, and that my Justiniano is of a race which hath held the Empire of the Orient, the example of
Athenagoras, me-thinks, ought to stop their mouthes, seeing Theogines and Charida are but simple Citizens. Finally, Reader, such Censors may set their
hearts at rest for this particular, and leave me there, for I assure them that
Justiniano is of a condition to command over the whole Earth; and that Isabella of a House, and Gentlewoman good enough, to make Knights of the
Rhodes, if she have children enough for it, and that she have a mind thereunto. But setting this jesting aside, and comming to that which regards the
Italian names, know that I have put them in their naturall pronounciation.  And if you see some Turkish words, as Alla, Stamboll, the Egira, and some others, I have done it of purpose, Reader, and have left them as Historicall marks, which are to pass rather for imbellishments than defects.  It is certain that imposition of names is a thing which every one ought to think of, and whereof nevertheless all the world hath not thought; We have oftentimes seen Greek names given to barbarous Nations, with as little reason as if I should name an English man Mahomet, and that I should call a Turk Anthony; for my part I have beleeved that more care is to be had of ones labour, and that upeon this subject men and bookes are to be consulted with;



and if any one remarks the name of Satrape in this Romanze, let him not imagine that my ignorance hath confounded the antient and new Persia, and that I have done it without Authority, I have an example thereof in Vigenere, who makes use of it in his Illustrations upon Calchondila; and I have learned of it of a Persian, which is at Paris, who faith, that by corruption of speech they call yet to this day the Governours of Provinces, Soltan Sitripin. Now lest some other should further accuse me for having improperly named Ibrahim's House a Palace, since all those of persons of quality are called Seraglioes at Constantinople, I desire you to remember,  that  I have done it by the counsell of two or three excellent persons,
who have found as well as my self, that this name of Seraglio would leave
an Idea which was not seemly, and that it was fit not to make use of it,
but in speaking of the Grand Signior, and that as seldom as might be.
But whilst wee are speakjng of a Palace, I am to advertise you, that such
as are not curious to see a goodly building, may pass by the gate of that
of my Heroe without entring into it, that is to say, not to read the description of it; it is not because I have handled this matter like to Athenagoras, who playes the Mason in the Temple of Jupiter Hammon; nor like
Poliphile in his dreams, who hath set down most strange terms, and all
the dimensions of Architecture, whereas I have imployed but the ornaments
thereof; it is not because they are not beauties sutable to the Romanze, as
well as to the Epique Poem, since the most famous both of the one and the
other have them; nor is it too because mine is not grounded on the History,
which assures us that it was the most superb the Turks ever made, as shall appears by the remains thereof, which they of that Nation call Serrau Ibrahim. But to conclude, as inclinations ought to be free, such as love not those beautifull things, for which I have so much passion, may (as I have said) pass
on without looking on them, and leave them to others more curious of those
rarities, which I have assembled together with art and care enough. Now,
Reader, ingenuity being a matter necessary for a man of Honour, and the
theft of glory being the basest that may be committed, I must confess here for
fear of being accused of it, that the Hstory of the Count of Lavagna,
which you shall see in my Book, is partly a Paraphrase of Mascardies; this
Adventure falling out in the time whilst I was writing, I judged it too excellent not to set it down, and too well indited for to undertake to do it better;
so that regard not this place but as a Translation of tlut famous Italian, and
except the matters, which concern my History, attribute all to that great
man, whose Interpreter onely I am. And if you finde something not very
serious in the Histories of a certain French Marquis, which I have interlaced
in my Book, remember if you please, that a Romanze ought to have the images of all natures; that this diversty makes up the beauties of it, and the
delight of the Reader; and at the worst regard it as the sport of a melancholick, and suffer it without blaming it. But before I make an end, I must pass from matters to the manner of delivering them, and desire you also not to forget, that a narrative stile ought not to be too much inflated, no more than that of ordinary conversations; that hte more facile it is, the more excellent it is; that it ought to glide along like Rivers, and not rebound up like




Torrents; that that the less constraint it hath, the more perfection it hath; I have endeavoured then to observe a just mediocrity between vicious elevation, and creeping lowness; I have contained my self in narration, and left by self free in orations, and in passions, and wihtout speaking as extravagants, and the vulgar, I have laboured to speak as worthy persons do.Behold, Reader, that which I had to say to you, but what defence soever I have implyed, I know that it is of works of this nature, as of a place of war, where notwithstanding all the care the Engineer hath brought to fortifie it, there is alwayes some weak part found, which he hath not dream'd of, and whereby it is assulted; but this shall not surprise me; for as I have not forgot that I am a man, no more have I forgot that I am subject to erre.IBRAHIM, OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The First Part.The First Book.SCarcely had the first beames of the Sun dissipated the darknes of
the night on the Bosphorus of Thrace, when as a great voyce of
Trumpets and Atabales awaked every one in the Imperiall Citie of Constantinople, and made them known that the Triumph
of great Soliman was then beginning. All the people ran instantly to the Hipodrome, and the least curious would see the
magnificent entry of that Prince, who returned conquerer from
Persia. Roxelana the Sultana Queen, followed by all the rest
parted from the Seraglio in Chariots of Scarlet imbroidered with gold, and went
to the stately standing prepared for her. All the Christian Princes Ambassadors
took their places there; first that of the Emperor; then that of France; next to
them sate those of Spain, and Poland; and after them the Baglioes of Venice, and
Rhagonsa. But those of the Mahometan Provinces; as being of the same belief with Soliman, were on the left hand, which amongst the Turkes is alwaies the place
of honour: That of the Tartars appeared there with a barbarous pomp in a Cap
and Roab of Sables, all his Train clad with the skinnes of Beares, Foxes, Wolves
and Tygers: And those of Morocco, and Fez, were there too, with all the magnificence, and gallantry that Moores make profession of. As soone as each one had
taken his place, the Governor of Constantinople, whom the Turkes call Capitan Bassa, and as one of the four prime Officers of the Empire, went out of the City to the Seraglio Daut, an house of pleasure of the Grand Signiors, some two miles off, for to
advertise his Higness, who was come thither the night before, that all things were in a readiness to receive him. Soliman gets imediately to horse, and this great Emperour after so glorious a conquest goes to revive the stately seat of his Empire. Fifty Trumpets, and fifty Atabales, attired in Cassocks of Damask, imbroidered with gold, appeared first in the Hipodrome, and made all the Cittie to ring with


the warlike harmony of their silver instruments. They were followed by two thousand Archers on horsback, in liveries of carnation sattin, laid thick with gold lace.
Bowes of ebony in their left hands, and ivory quivers hanging on skarfes. Fifty
Hoboys, and fifty players on Cimballs, followed this first troup, habited after the
Greek fashion, in blew velvet imbroidered with silver. The Aga of the Janizaries marched on foot alone after them in the head of six thousand of his companions,
having on a robe of cloth of gold, a Jewell of rich stones, and a plume of Hearons
feathers in his Turbant, with a China battoon in his hand, which is the marke of
his Charge: All this Troop was clothed in that kind of roabe by them called Doliman, with scymitars by their sides, and muskets on their shoulders. They were
followed by fifty Drummes, and fifty Fyfes, attyred in short coates of white taffeta,
wrought with lively flowers set out with gold. After them an hundred black
Slaves, with chaines of silver, and braslets of the same about their armes and leggs,
carried Tachmas the Sophy of Persines Throne of massy gold, which had been found
in Tauris; and all the rich vessell of Agate, and Turqueys, wherewith that Monarch
was served. Next to them were twelve Elephants, and twelve Camells led, laden
with silver, gold, jewells, and precious stones, which had been taken out of the Sophyes Treasure. A great Chariot, drawn by twelve Barbes followed, where hung
an hundred displayed colours, which the Turkes had gained from the Persians; in
the midst whereof was a stately Trophey, composed of Curiaces and Murrians of
silver engraved; Targets of gold and Turqueyses; Seymitars and Poignards,
whose hilts and scabbards were of Agates and Cornalines; Bowes of Ebony inlaide
with gold; Quivers of gold set with pearl; Pikes Darts, and Arrowes of Cedar
wood, and Indian Cane; all intermingled with a disorder so agreeable, & so full of
art, and a confusion so rich and beautifull, as nothing could come neere to the magnificence of this Trophry. Thirty Satrapes, sumptuously apparelled after the Persian
manner, with their Cuselbas, or red Turbants, went after that Chariot, tyed two
and two with golden chaines, their hands behind their backs. These illustrious
wretches were followed by five hundred Voluntiers, which the Turkes call Dellis,
mounted on horses barbed and caparisoned with Lions skinnes, having the tail of
that generous beast on the frontstalls of them, in stead of a feather; their habits were
of the skin of a Bear, their bonnets of that of a Leopard exquisitely spotted; in
those bonnets the trayne of an Eagle, and on their Targetts the wing of the same
bird; they had scymitars by their sides, battelaxcs at their saddlebowes, and
Launces in their hands, at the end whereof was an Eagles feather in stead of a pennon. This fantastick troop was followed by a mixture of Trumpets, Attabales,
Hoboyes, European Drummes, Cimballs, and Fyfes, which composed a musick little less extravagant, than the equipage of those that preceded them. An hundred
Pages rode after these same, mounted on white Barbes, and suited in white velvet,
studded with silver. Behind these Pages twenty Azapes lead in their hands ten
Horses, royally harnessed, whereof the last, which was called the Horse of the Body, or the Horse of Battaile, had the bitt of the bridle, and the stirrupps of massive
gold, all beset with precious stones; the Saddle vvhite all over vvith pearles, and
sparkling with diamonds; the Sultans Target hung at the Saddle bovv by strings
of gold, at the ends wherof great tasselles of Orientall pearles trailed to the ground.
Next to these horses marched even together the Tubenter Aga, and the Chiodar Aga,
vvho carried the Turbant and Mantle Imperiall. Behind them Ibrahim Bassa, the the
Grand Visior, rode alone, mounted on a black Barbe, vvhose furniture vvas of velvet
of the same color, as vvell as the habit of that illustrious Bassa, all imbroidered with
great pearles, he carried in his hand, & vvithout a Scabbard, the Scymitar Imperiall.
The hundred Peiker, or footmen of the Grand Signior, follovved next, but in order,
with bonnets of massive silver on their heads, in the midst wherof white feathers of
an extraordinary greatness stuck in a quill covered with precious stones. Fifty Archers on foot went after them, with bovves & arrowes in their hands, i nthe midst
of whom was Sultan Soliman, arrayed in a roabe of cloth of gold, imbroidered with
pearles, and diamonds; his Turbant was ardorned vvith five plumes of Hearons,
and as many great jevvells of rich stones; and the furniture of his Horse vvas all
 




covered over with Emeraulds and Rubies. He was followed by all the Bassaes and Beglierbies of the Empire. After whom a Boluch Bassa marched in the head of two thousand Janizaries, which were the last Troops of this stately Entrie. After that this marvelous Triumph had made a turn about the Hipodrome, all ranked themselves on the right and left hand, and the Sultan went and lighted at the Tent 
of cloth of Gold, which had been pitched for him under the windows
Sultana Queen. All the Grandees of the Port stood on both sides; Ibrahim alone
was set at his Highness feet, on a Cushion of cloath of Silver. When every one had
taken his place, the Bassa of the Sea, who that day exercised the Charge of the
Master of the Ceremonies, advertised the Ambassadors that they might go to
the Baise-main, and offer their presents, which they had no sooner done, and were
returned to their seats, but the Mufti appeared, sitting on a Throne that was carried on the back of a Cammell, and holding in his hands the Book of the Alcoran.
He was waited upon by all the Alfaquis, Calenders, and Dervis of the City of Constantinople; all these Religious men cried and howled with a dreadfull noise, and to
accompany their voices, and their dance,they beat upon kettles and basons, and rung
little bels; so that this modest Clergy resembled not a little the Orgies of antient
Greece, and the Bacchanals of old Rome: When they were before the Sultan they stood still, made prayers for the prosperity of his Highness, offered him a Book of their Law, covered with Gold and Turquesyes; and after they had slashed their arms and
their faces with great knives, for the love of their Prophet, and the Sultan, they retired, and gave place to those that were to succecd them. The Turkish, Christian,
and Jewish Merchants appeared then richly attired, and in the midst of them a Chariot drawn by twelve Cupids, crowned with flowers, upon the which was erected a
shop of cloth of Gold, and Persian Tapestry, which they presented to the Sultan.
The Goldsmiths followed them with a Cupbord of Gold Plate ingraven, upon a
frame of unpolished Silver, dravvn by four white Horses, which they gave to his
Highness. Every Trade appeared one after another, each of them making shew of
some rich piece of workmanship of their profession; but with so extraordinary a
diligence, that before the turn of the place was finished, the Present was in estate to
be offered to great Soliman. He received them all very graciously, and instantly
gave them to his dear Ibrahim to whom he said they were justly due, since it was
by his courage and conduct, that he had obtained the Victory, and this Triumph.
After that all these liberall Troopes were past, as Turkie is the onely place
in the World, where the most Juglers and Tumblers are, there appeared above tvvo thousand of them, vvho in the presence of the Grand Signior did
all, that the slight of the hand, and all, that the address and force of the body,
could naturally permit men to. Next to them was seen the great Frame, representing the City of Tauris, vvhereof the Tovvers were covered vvith Pesian Colours, as vvas knovvn by thei antient Images of the Sun, vvich they all had; it vvas follovved by tvvo hundred Slaves, belonging to the Bassa of the sea, half of them armed after the Turkish, and half after the Persian manner, vvith scimitars and bucklers of Silver; vvho to the sound of fifty Hoboys danced that which the Greeks called the Pirrhique dance, and that vvich might be termed an armed dance; the blovvs vvere given and received in due cadence; the changing of figures therein, represented the advantages, and flight vvich fall out in battels; and the noise of bucklers and scimitars marked out the measure of paces vvith as much even time, as the instruments. Amongst these Slaves there vvas one in the Turkish Troop, vvhich by his good aspect and behaviour, drevv the eys of all the beholders upon him; the Grand Visier no sooner perceiving him, but he trembled vvith amazement and joy, no way doubting but that it was he whom he thought he knew: In the mean time the Frame, the two Troops, having made a turn about the place, the City was set down just against the Grand Signior, and the Persians cast themselves into it; Then at the sound of all the Trumpets, Atabales, Drums, Hoboys, Fifes, and Cimbals in the Assembly, the Turks gave an assault to that feigned City of

Tauris: If the assault were vigorous, the defence was no less; the Persians were seen
to give ground; the Turkes were also seen to be repulsed; and this false Image of
of war had all the apparences of a true fight: But at length, after a great resistance,
the well-made Slave forced the gates, mounted first on the walles, and plucking
down the Sophyes Colours for to set up those of the Sultan, his valor and address
were the cause, that the Moon made the Sun to be eclipsed; his victory was seconded with a great shout of the Janizaries, and of all the people, and nothing was
heard over all the Hipodrome, but long live Sultan Soliman. In the mean time
Ibrahim Bassa, who knew his friend no less by his address, than by his face, was
ravished to see, that all the glory of this action could not be disputed with him.
When the noise of so many voices was dispersed, there appeared a Troop like to
Christians, and observed for such by the Crosses,  which were seen in their Colours; they represented certain Christians, who living under the Empire of the
Sophy thought they were obliged to defend that Prince, though he were not of
their Reigion, and indeed had fought so generously for him, as they had been
the first in the war, and yet the last that were vanquished. This feigned Troop
had order from the Bassa of the Sea to resist for some time that of the Turkes,
which came at that very instant out of the Citty, and then to suffer themselves to
be vanquished; and they that vvere attired like Turkes were commanded to chain
them, and to trail their Colours on the ground. But when the fight began, that
generous Slave, vvho had drawn the eyes of all the Assembly upon him at the
taking of the feigned Citty of Tauris, fell suddenly from jesting into a more serious
thought, and being carried away by the zeal of his Religion, he passed from the
Turkish Troop into that ofthe Christians, and by changing of party made the
face of things to change: The Turkes, whom he had left, laboured to vanquish him
with the rest, but he beat them back to the very gates of the City; and albeit they
made three sallies more upon him, he repulsed them all the three times, even
to the same gates.  All the world was surprised with this adventure, and Soliman,
not being able to comprehend the matter, demanded of the Bassa of the Sea, what it
meant? But the Bassa, casting himsels at the feet of his Highness, assured him that
this criminall action came not from his order, but that it proceeded from the insolencie of his Slave; whereupon a motion of choler seizing on the mind of the
Grand Signior, he commanded that this Slave should be instantly impaled.
But the grand Visier, rising from the place where he sate, and falling on his knees,
besought the Sultan that he would not mark the day of his Triumph with blood;
but remember that clemency is properly the vertue ofthe Victorious; that in
saving the life of this inconsiderate he should be assured, that he would lose it for
his service; and that he was of a birth and humor never to be ingratefull; that
knowing him as well as himself,  he would be responsable for hlm to his Highness; and that being so far obliged unto him as to dye for to save him, he besought
the Sultan to take his life instead of his, is his fault could not obtain pardon.
Soliman reached out his hand to the illustrious Bassa, and in raising him up, said
unto him, that were the Lightning in his hand, his prayers should arrest it;
and that  being unable to refuse him anything, he granted him both the life and
the pardon of that rash man. Ibrahim cast himself again at the feet of the Sultan
for to render him thanks, and after he had obtained of the Bassa of the sea that
this slave should come and pass the night with him, he sent him a commandment
to attend him. All the magnificences of this Triumph being finished, Soliman
was going to rise, and to prepare himself for his return unto his Seraglio, when
as he perceived Osman, the Bassa of the seas onely sonne, who breaking through
the press, and leading a woman in his hand, came and threw himself together
with her at his feet. I know well, my Lord, said he unto him, that my presumption is extreme, but withall I know too, that thy goodness is infinite; nevertheless I have no other need of it in this encounter, than that thou wilt be pleased to
permit me to acknowledge thee for a Judge, and to obtain of thee, that in a day
wherein thou receivest such glorious marks of thy Valour, thou wile render us





one of thy Justice. The Bassa of the sea knowing that he was the most interested
in the matter in hand, approached near to the Grand Signior for to beseech him
with a great deal of earnettness not to give ear to the complaints of a man, who
had been so bold as to come and interrupt his Triumph; that for his part, although he were his sonne, he would crave no favour of him for his fault, but contrarily he should be obliged to his Highness is he would give him a chastisement,
that might punish him, not only for his crime, but for all others whereof he was
also culpable. A discourse so violent, and so far distant from the apprensions of
a father, made Soliman willing to cleared therein, being loth in a day of his
glory his people might say, that he had refused to hear the complaints ofthe oppressed. Howbeit he would first demand the advice of the grand Visier Ibrahim,
who having no other aim but the glory of his Master, said unto him, that in a
time wherein Heaven had done him justice in giving him the victory over his Enemies, he should in some sort be unjust to deny it to them that craved it of him.
The first fence of Soliman having been confirmed by the counsell of a man, who
might do all things with him, he commanded the Bassa of the sea to hold his
peace, and the woman whom Osman had brought to his feet, to tell him what interest she had in the fortune of that man; to the end that understanding the matter from a person that seemed least capable of disguising it, he might also give a
more equall judgement therein. That woman then having heard this commandment, could not for all that resolve to obey it, before she had looked on Osman,
as it were to demand permission of him to answer unto it; but he having made a
sign unto her that he desired it, she turned her self towards Soliman, with both a
modest, and a confident countenance, which began already to obtain for her the
good-will and attention of all that could hear her. Alibech, so was this vvoman
called, was young and fair, and one might have said that her beauty had been
without compare, is her complexion had not been a little tanned with the Sun;
she had a stately look, but without pride, and such ingenuity in her face, as
could not permit one to doubt of her words. After that by Osmans countenance
she knew he had permitted her to speak, she began in these terms; for though she
was originally of Persia, yet spake she perfectly the Turkish tongue, which she made use of in this occasion.
The History of Osman and Alibech.I doubt not, my Lord, but thy Highness will find it strange, said this woman, her
eyes full of tears, that in a day wherein tears of joy are to be shed, I begin my
discourse with tears of sorrow; but the cause of it is so pressing, that it is impossible for me to retain them; for, my Lord, thou seest before thine eyes, sayd she,
shewing Osman, two of the most infortunate persons that ever were; we have enemies whom we cannot, whom we ought not hate; to whom we ow respect; to
whom we ow obedience; to whom we ow affection; enemies, I say, to whom we
ow our lives, and for whom also we would lose them with joy if there vvere occasion for it: Nevertheless it is against such dear persons, my Lord, that I am to speak at this time; and for obtaining the justice which we demand of thee and
whereupon depends the happiness or unhappiness of our lives, I must discover the
cruelties of my father, and Osman must accuse his: Judge then, my Lord, whether
my tears be not just and whether loving our enemies, as we do, we be not explosed to an extreme misfortune in being thus constrained to publish their shame, to accuse them, and to demand justice against them.  Alibech found her self so oppressed vvith sorrow, that she stood a good while unable to speak.  But Soliman having commended so sweet a resentment in her, and having commanded her once again to let him understand their differences, she continued her discourse. Since I must, sayd she, obey, and that I cannot conserve my husband without discovering the misfortunes of my father, I must, I say, let thy Highness know, that his name is Arsalon; that he was born the subject of the Sophy of Persia; and that in


the time he was in that Court he was Satrap of Aderbion, and so considerable with
Tachmas, as there was not any person in that Empire, vvho was more than he;
but whereas his humour hath been alwayes violent in every thing, being become
desperately in love with a maid of excellent beauty, of great vertue, and of much
spirit, he espoused her, though she were of base condition: And whereas the Laws of the State do not permit a Gentleman to marry a wife that is not noble, they also will that the great ones, which commit such like offences, shall lose the honors and charges they possess, and be declared ignoble, and uncapable of all manner of dignities. My father was not ignorant of this custom and law; but he was perswaded that
Tachmas would have infringed it for his sake; and is he would not, that want of
affection would be a reason strong enough to oblige him to make the Province revolt, where he commanded,and whereof he believed he was absolutely the Master;
howbeit the matter succceded not so, for the enemies which my Father had made
him by his violences, meeting with so fair an occasion to hurt him, they represented unto the Sophy, that if he pardoned him this fault, it would make him the
more insolent for the future, yea and that it would even overthrow all that Empire, the glory and force whereof consisted in the valour of noble persons, wherewith it is replenished; at length they wrote in such manner, that my Father was
declared guilty,as contravening the fundamentall Laws of the State, and constrained to undergo the chastisement, which I shall come to speak of, by reason that
the Province, where he commanded so absolutely when he was in grace, revolted
against him, and left him not scarcely the liberty to seek a resfuge otherwhere; for
I forgot to tell thy Highness, that the same Law which commanded the utter ruine
of my Father, commanded also that he should pass his life in a perpetuall prison, and the person whom he had maried in another, for fear that living together,
and having children, it might one day cause disorders in the State. My Father
seeing himself in so pitifull a fortune, went not about to move the heart of Tachmas with payers and submission, but contrarily sent him word, that deserving not
to be served by a man of his courage and valor, he would go out of his Estates,
with an intention never to re-enter into them again , but to bring war along with
him. Being then in Mingrelia, he bought a Man of War, wherein he imbarqued
himself on Mare major, with his wife, who as she was the cause of his misfortune, so would she not abandon him in his exile. They continued some time in
this sort, not knowing what resolution to take, nor having any other design in the
course that they held, than to eloign themselves from Persia; my Fathers great
heart not permitting him to go and seck unto the enemies of Tachmas for a place
of retreat; for though he be somewhat cruell, yet is he notwithstanding generous;
neither would he likewise address himself to the Princes that were allied to our
Empire, for fear he should not be favourably received by them. In the mean time
these irresolutions having no end, the provisions of the ship diminished daily:
The Pilot was well hoped up to ask him where he would land, vvhen as he found no
place in the whole universall Map vvhither to go. Six moneths past avvay in this
sort in running over all the Seas of the Levant; and whereas my mother was with
child of me, at such time as she imbarqued her self, she was not far from the term
wherein I was to see the light, when as Arsalons victualls utterly failed him; and
having imployed all his money in the buying of the Vessell, and such provisions
of War, and for the mouth, as he had laid into her, he knew not what part to repair unto for the supplying of himself in so adverse an adventure. The souldiers and Mariners consulted together, and having gained the Pilot, they wrought
so with him, that maugre the command my Father had given him to the contrary,
he steered directly to an Iland which they had discovered; whereupon Arsalon
being in a rage to see his authority contemned, went and pushed away the Pilot so
rudely for to make him abandon the helm, as the poor wretch fell into the Sea;
and my Father becoming his own Pilot, he took his scimitar in his right hand,
and the whip of the rudder in his left, and menacing them that would oppose his
will, he made his Vessell take a quite contrary course, choosing rather to die by



famine, than expose his misery to the eyes of the world, fearing nothing so much
as that Tachmas should come to understand his misfortunes. He had already lost
sight of that Iland, which he had beheld as a rock, and his souldiers being no longer retained but by the tears of my Mother, might at length peradventure have
been carried to some strange resolution, without an adventure that befell them,
which was, that my Father discovered a Vessell comming towards his, which bare
a flag of Persia in her top, as he thought, and as indeed it proved to be: Upon the
sight of her he began to think, that he should be revenged of Tachmas in revenging himself upon his Subjects; and this desire of revenge, joyned to the present necessity, made him propound to his souldiers the attacquing of that Vessell, who 
animated more by the fear of famine, than by their courage, resolved to obey his
pleasure. After my Father had shut up my Mother in the Captains Cabbin, where
with fright she was brought to bed of me by the assistance of her Nurse, who had
never abandoned her, they set upon the Vessell, and after two hours fight rendred
themselves absolute Masters of her, wherein they found extreme riches, and abundance of Victuall. This victory gave new life to his souldiers, who for the valor
which my Father had shewed in this occasion, grew so devoted unto him, as they
craved pardon of him for resisting his will, and swore never to forsake him; he
to win them the more, divided the booty amongst them, reserving nothing for himself but the glory of having vanquished. After this, my Lord, he took a resolution to have no other Countrey but his ship, and to pass all the rest of his life upon
all the Seas of the world, to seek out all occasions of fighting, and to take all
the Vessells that should carry the Colours of Persia, or all that belonged to the
Enemies of our Religion, which are the Christians: He propounds this design
to his soudiers, who approve it, and albeit my Mother withstood it, he setled this
resolution at last. Behold, my Lord, in what sort my Father hath lived for the space
of eighteen years that I have been in the world, and that which hath gotten
him so much same under the name of Arsalon the Pirate throughout all the Seas
that are known to us. I have not for all that been always brought up in so wild
an element, for whereas he divers times arrived at Ilands to sell off the commodities
which he had taken, he left me from the age of six years untill fourteen, at which
time he took me to him again, under the government of a woman of the Isle of
Cyprus, who truly had a great deal of care of me. Thy Highness may be pleased
to dispence with me for the relating to thee all the sad victories which my Father hath obtained in so long a time, and withall wilt pardon me if I have extended my self in this discourse more than I ought, for to make it appear, that the
life which my father hath led, hath rather been an effect of his great heart, and of
his despair, than of the baseness and viciousness of his mind: But, my Lord, to
come unto that which directly regards me, it was not full six dayes after my Father had taken me away from the Isle of Cyprus, whenas my Mother fell sick, and
died in my arms; this loss no doubt was very sensible unto me, and Arsalon was
so afflicted with it, as no man could be more; howbeit this grief produced very
different effects in us; I shed tears, and he spilt blood, for melancholy being joyned to his violent humour, he sought no other remedy for his affliction than to
make others miserable like him self. We ran then over all the Archipelago, and
all the Sea of Tuscany; and during that voyage he made many fights and took
many prizes, amongst the rest a little Barque, where a man of a good aspect, and
that was an Italian, defended himself so couragiously, that Arsalon, vext at his resistance, had peradventure caused him to be slain, is I had not obtained his life. When he was in the hands of my Father, he was chained amongst those whom
he judged were handsome enough to be sold in places where he had accustomed to traffique; but he soon changed this design, for this new Slave having given him to understand by an Interpreter, which my Father had, who spoke most languages, for the commodity of his Commerces, that he was a man of quality, he agreed with him on a price ofr his ransom, and gave him his word, that if the sum which he had promised, were paid him at the Isle of Cyprus, he would set him at liberty:




This Slave having confirmed this promise unto him, my Father permitted him to
write unto the place whence he said he was of, and so going to the Isle of Cyprus
he gave this Letter to Merchants, with whom he held correspondence, that undertook to cause it to be delivered; my Father promising this Slave, that within three
moneths he would return thither for an answer of it; but in the mean time that
he must for his security go along with him: This man not knowing what to do,
but to follow the Law of the Vanquisher, resolved to submit to that which he
could not avoid. Not long after we encountred a great man of War, in whose
flag my Father observed half Moons; and whereas all his prizes were seldom
or never made of any save of Persians, or Christians, he purposed not to meddle
with her, but contrarily commanded his Pilot to quit his course, that so he might
decline her; but whereas Arsalon was taken for a Pirate, and this change of course
seemed to be a slight unto him who commanded that Vessell, he made up with
full sayls unto us, the better to discern ours, and having well discerned her, he
came presently and grapled himself fast unto us. I cannot say, my Lord, what
this fight was, because the fright I was in kept me from marking it, howbeit I know
that at the very first, they of that Vessell leaped into ours; and whereat there were
many of my Fathers souldiers sick, they might peradventure have rendred themselves Masters of her without the valor of the Italian Slave, who seeing that they
which attacqued us were not Christians, demanded leave of Arsalon to fight, who
having given him arms, gave him wherewithall to gain us the victory; for he performed such marvellous things in this fight, as after he had repulsed the enemy, he
leaped into their Vessell, followed by my Father, and some of his, put very neer
all that he met with there to the sword, rendred himselfe Master of her, and
with his own hand, after a long resistance, took Osman, who commanded her, and
who by his Fathers order was going to Alexandria. After this brave exploit,
this Slave was the favourite of Arsalon, of which grace notwithstanding he was not
much sensible; for though my Father caressed him extremely, yet left he not to
be exceedingly afflicted, when as he knew that the reward of his victories should be
a perpetuall slavery; for albeit my Father had promised to give him his liberty,
when as he should have received his ransom, he had resolved nevertheless to break
his word with him, for that he might not, said he, part with a man which could
make him invincible by his wonderfull valor. In the mean time, my Lord, Osman
finding himself wounded, and my inclination having always carried me to the
comforting of others miseries, I visited him whilst he was ill, and more for the
care that I had of his person, as long as he was so, than for any beauty was in my
face, he bare an affection to me; and is I dare say it, the knowledge which I had
thereof, together with his merit, and the compassion I had of his misfortune, very
much disposed me to accept of it; the constancy which he shewed was partly the
cause of my weakness, is at leastwise one may call affection so, which hath no
other object but vertue. As soon as Osman was taken, he told Arsalon what he
was, who gave him the means to let the Bassa of the Sea understand what ransom
he was set at, and how he might deliver him; in the mean time, his hurts being cured, he contracted a great friendship with that generous Slave, speaking a certain
corrupted Italian unto him, which, they say, is very much in use here in Constantinople. As for me, after I parted from the Isle of Cyprus, my chiefest entertainment was to talk with the Interpreter, whom my Father carried always along with
him, and by the continuall conference which we had together, touching the diversities of Languages, I had almost learned two or three, is not for to speak them
well, at leastwise to understand them perfectly; and whereas the Turkish and Italian were of that number, I did also many times converse with those two infortunate ones, thinking I had passed away the day exceeding well, when I could avoid
the company of those men of blood and slaughter that followed my Father. Thus
I spent most of my time, either in the Captains Cabbin with my Mothers Nurse,
or in their conversation. They knew well enough by my sadness, that the life
which I led was grievous unto me, yet had they the goodness not to speak to me





of it but modestly, nor to complain of their own misfortunes in consideration of me: This compliance and advisedness of theirs made me to esteem much of them both; and the belief I had that I was beloved of Osman possessed me both with joy, and with unquietness; for I perceived sufficiently, that his heart yielded not without resisting, and that he was ashamed to wear the fetters of a Pirats daughter: This generous disposition of his for all that displeased me not, and mkaing great account of him already, I interpreted every thing to his advantage; I found that he had reason to revolt against himself, and not to give way to a passion unworthy of him, yet forbore I not to make vowes in secret, that he might know how far my disposition was form that of my fathers, but yet I durst not bring any care to justifie my self therein, because I could not do it without blaming him that gave me life.  Wee lived in this sort with some delight, and a great deale of of unquietness; the Italian Slave was afflicted to see my father break his word with him, and seemed also to be so for that he could have no tydings of a friend of his whom he
infinitely regretted; as for Osman, and my self, we knew not what to wish for; he
was grieved for that he could not hear from his father, and yet feared to quit me;
I likewise made vows for his liberty, and yet feared nothing more. What, said I
to my self sometimes, shall I pass my whole life with men, whose cruelty is all their
vertue? shall I alwaies be exposed to tempests? Shall I never see other than miserable wretches? And it may be too after that I shall die the Slave of a Pirate. I vow
to thee, my Lord, this thought was a torment unto me; and albeit the conversation
of Osman gave me some pleasing houres, yet could I say that I was most unhappy:
But I was a great deal more a little after, because the term, which my father had
given the Bassa of the Sea for the redemption of his sonne, being past, he was treated more harshly than before, and kept in the rank of those Slaves, which he meant
to sell in Christian land. This resolution, being known to Osman, and me, wrought
a strange effect in us, and the love which we bore one to another, and which we
had both of us concealed as much as we could, began then to break forth. I could
not speak to him of my fathers designs but with tears in mine eys, nor could he talk
to me of eloignment, which he believed to be inevitable, without declaring his
affection openly unto me; I believed, my Lord, that it was true, thinking it was
not a time fitting to to dissemble in; he assured me that his irons did not seem heavy
unto him, as long as he was with me, but the thought of being separated from me
for ever, and to be constrained to carry chaines otherwhere, was insupportable to
to him; he sware to me further, that he had not desired his liberty but to obtain of
his father, against whom he had never so much as once murmured, the meanes to
deliver me out of the hands of mine. A discourse so obliging found not an ingratefull soul, and I resolved to do what I could to keep my father from executing so ignoble a design; I cast my self then at his feet, I begged this grace of him with teares,
but for all the effect of my request I got nothing, save an express inhibition
never to  speak to him more of it. After that he alwaies treated  me ill;
I had no longer the libertie to entertain Osman as before; and wee were
all three for a long time together the most unhappy persons that ever were.
This constraint for all that kept me not from letting him know at length, that if he
would promise to mary me I would undeavour to deliver him,  so as he would be
ruled by me: Osman answered thereunto very obligingly, that loving me so much,
as to hazard his life for to make me his, I was not to doubt, but that meeting with
two such great benefits together, he would do whatsoever I would have him for to
obtain them. After he had sworn more than once to me, that if I would procure him
his libertie, and would follow him, he would receive me for his wife, I required
some time for the execution of my design; but whereas I could not finish it without betraying in some sort my father, it is certain that I almost repented me of my ingaging my self therein: I was perswaded notwithstanding that vertue and reason were of my side, and that regarding Osman as my husband, I might be permitted to follow him, desiring nothing of all my fathers riches, than this only Slave, which I robbed him of. Being well confimed then in my design, I examin, I consi-




der the difficulties of it, and find no other way to execute it, than to stay till we
came to the Isle of Chio, whither my father was to goe, and there to cast anchor;
for whereas he had caused the Captains Cabbin to be divided in the midst, to
the end that I should lie on the one side, and he on the other, and that Osman also
was every night locked up with a key, which Arsalon himself alwaies kept by him,
I resolved to steal it as sofly as I could from him; but the difficulty was, that ever
since he purposed to retain the Italian Slave, he for to favour him, but indeed
to assure himself of him, made him to lie with him. I resolved then to propound
unto him his escaping out of my fathers hands; at first he doubted it was but to
try him, that I spake so to him, and withall his own generosity withstood it, but
having acquainted him with the truth of the matter, he believed me, and said, that
seeing my father had broken his word with him, he might fail in his fidelity to
him also; and on condition that Osman would promise him his freedom, he would
expose himself to any thing for my sake. I assured him of what he desired, and having so good a second it was not hard for me to finish my enterprise. But without importuning thy Highness, my Lord, by a long relation, let it suffise to say,
we were no sooner at the road of Chio, where Osman had some acquaintance, but
night being come, and my father asleep, I went and stole away the key of the
Cabbin, wherein Osman was locked; and the generous Slave, having shut up my father
in his, where he soundly slept, came along with me to unlose his friend, snatched
away a sentinells armes that would have cryed out, and having killed him, as
well as the Pilot, we got into the skiff, and for the more surety, the generous Slave
with a blow of his scimitar cut asunder the cable that held the vessell at anchor,
which by the light of the Moon we saw sall away from us, and float at the pleasure of the wind, without a Pilot, or any man awake in her. In the mean time Osman and that Slave rowed with such speed, as wee soon approched to land, where
we happily arrived; and meeting with a sanctuary in the house of one, who knew
Osman at Clio, we in a little time found the meanes to come unto Constantinople, leaving Arsalon no doubt in an extreme rage at our slight, which was made with
much the more security, for that my father seldom suffered his great Vessell to
enter into any Port that was suspected unto him, but sent a Barque in for
the dispatch of such business as he had to do there, and upon that it was that I had
grounded my enterprise. Now, my Lord, after I had delivered Osman with the
help of the generous Slave, and had brought him back to his paternall house, when
he would have made good his word  which he had given us, this incensed father
hath intreated me as an infamous person, and a vagabond, and hath put that Slave
into irons, to whom his sonne oweth his liberty, since that without him I could
not have executed that which I had promised; it is that Slave, my Lord, whom
thou hast so lately pardoned, and of whom the Illustrious Ibrahim hath undertaken the protection. Behold, my Lord, the difference that is between the Bassa of
the Sea, and his sonne, whole sense I will not deliver, for fear I stiould be suspected
to interpret it too advantagiously for my self; wherefore it is for thy Highness to
understand it from his own mouth, and absolutely to dispose of my happiness, or
of my unhappiness, of my life, or of my death. Alibech having given over speaking, a confused noise was heard, which seemed to judge the matter for her advantage; but Soliman, desiring to render equall Justice, commanded the Bassa of
the Sea to speak his intentions. I have no other, my Lord, said he, than to chace
from my house a woman, that ought to be driven from all the earth, and whose
disposition is so base and unjust, that she could love a captive, when she knew him
not for that which he was, and betray her father; a woman descended from a Pirate, nourished amidst blood and cruelty, brought up amongst wicked villaines
whom the earth cannot bear, and the daughter of a Persian thy Highness enemy:
Behold what this woman is whom my sonne will mary, and for all her estate
brings nothing with her but infamy; he will tell me, it may be, that he owes his
liberty to her, and I will answer him, that it is a good which she hath not done
him but to doe it for her self, she knew he was the sonne of a Bassa, that he had



Palaces, that he was rich, and that he was honored with thy Highness favors; she
betrayed her father to possess them, and hath not so much followed my sonne, as
she hath sought after his good fortune; and then who knowes whether her hatred
to Arsalon is not rather the cause of her flight, than her love to Osman? She was
weary of living in a continuall prison, and to speak truly of things, she owes her
liberty rather to Osman, than my sonne doth ow his to her, since that at length
a ransom might have redeemed him, whereas nothing could have drawn her out
of her fathers hands. What assurance can one place in a person, that gives no markes
of her affection but treasons; that stifles all the motions of nature, to follow those
wherewith she is inspired by a disordinate love; and that begins her mariage with
an impiety? Believe me, Osman, said the Bassa beholding him, she that hath been so
audacious, as to betray her father for to follovv a Slave, may yet more easily betray an husband for a man of free condition; she that could so cunningly steal avvay the keyes of a sleeping father, may peradventure, being become the more
daring by the happy success of her former designes, stab a dagger into the heart
of an husband, when as she shall be as weary of him, as she vvas of her father. And
then, my Lord, said he, turning himself to Soliman, who knows whether all that she
hath said be not a trick, and that being the daughter of a Persian, she comes not hither to observe what is done here, and seek occasion to hurt us? Howsoever it be, I find that she ought to be suspected of us, and that in this incounter my particular interest is the same with the publique. As for the freedom of the Slave, whom
thy Highness hath been pleased to pardon, I have no more to say, for to make it appear, that I am not obliged to render it unto him, than that he is the cause of all the pain I am in, seeing that he alone, 
as this woman her self saies, made Osman the 
slave of Arsalon; let my sonne keep his word with him, if he can, but as for me, I
have promised him nothing; I will retain him in irons, not only as a Christian, not
only as a Captive, but also as an enemy. Behold, my Lord, what my sense is in this occasion, which, as I think, is not far from reason. Soliman seeing that the Bassa of the sea had done speaking, told Osman that he was to declare his mind. I am very sorry, replyed he, that I must be constrained to contradict a man to whom I ow my life, and to have that cross confirmity with the vertuous Alibech, as to have a father as inexorable as hers is cruel; but, my Lord, since the prime duty ought to prevail over all others, and that reason will have me speak without fear in this occasion, I will beseech thine Highness to consider, whether I can without ingratitude, and without being the basest of all men, abandon a person, who hath abandoned all for me, and that, as one may say, hath made herself a slave to deliver me, since that remitting her self to my conduct, and relying on my word, it was no longer in her power to alter her mind, but was necessarily to follow my will. Can I consider, that even at this present I should be loden with Irons, exposed to the insolency of Pirates, and the cruelty of Arsalon, if this woman had not broken my chains, and not have for her all the affection, and all the acknowledgement whereof I am capable? As soon as I was a captire, she began to do me good; I was wounded, she had a care of me, with her charitable offices she healed the wounds which her father had given me; I no sooner saw her, but I knew her vertue; she comforted the afflicted, took care to relieve them; and to say all in a word, she bewayled the Victories of her father, because she beleeved them not to be just. I confess ingenuously, that the beauty of her mind moved me more, than that of her face; and finding my self surprised by the lustre of so great a vertue, I engaged my self in such sort unto her, as nothing can be able to change it: But if vertue be the foundation of the love I bear her, that which she bears me hath had no less noble a cause: She saw me constant enough in my misfortune, she saw me wounded, a captire, and ready to be sold into a strange Country, and knew, though she seemed to be ignorant of it, that I loved her much; the gorgiousness of my clothes did not win her; for they were all torn in the heat of the fight; I was wan and disfigured; she saw me abandonded of my father, of whom I had no news; ill-entreted by Arsalon, because he had lost the hope of my ransom; and finally,




in a more deplorable estate than ever man was seen: Love then did not enter into
her heart by voluptuousness, but I can say it was introduced thereinto by goodness,
acknowledgement, and compassion; for if she had not been pittifull, she had not assisted me when I was ill, she had not loved me; if she had not been acknowledging,
she had despised the love of a slave, that had not the liberty to do her any service; 
and is her heart had not been tender, she had not been moved with my misfortunes,
nor given an end to them. It is true, that she is the daughter of the Pirate Arsalon;
that she hath quitted her father to follow me; that she hath been brought up amongst cruell and bloody men; and that she is the daughter, not only of a Pirate
but of a Persian. But, my Lord, all this, which seems to make against me, makes
for me in this occasion: for what greater mark can one desire of a solid and immoveable vertue, than to see a woman of eighteen years of age, whose inclinations
are not corrupted amidst somany vices, and whose innocencie is preserved so entire, as she could not so much as excuse cruelty in her father? It is true, that she
hath followed me, but it was to see no more murthers, nor fights, and because she
saw a juster temper in my mind: She hath not betrayed her father to follow a slave,
but she hath quitted the Pirate Arsalon to deliver a husband; for having promised
to be so unto her, nothing but death alone can keep me from it. Moreover, my
Lord, she is not to be suspected of thy Highness, for though she be the daughter of a
Persian, it is of a Persian the enemy of Tachmas, who hath for these eighteen years
waged War against him. I will not stand to say, that this woman, albeit the daughter of a Pirate, is for all that of a noble extrastion, because the Mussulmans make
Nobility personall, and beleeve that it ought not to pass unto children; but I will
only say, that in the estate wherein my fathers fortune now is, all that can be desired
in a woman is contrasted in this same; she is fair, she loves me, and she is vertuous.
It is true, that she is without wealth, and without parents, but she hath lost them
for the love of me; and whereas by thy bounty my father hath no need, either of support, or of riches, what can I wish for more in a wife? If I take one that is rich, it
may be she will abandon me if I should happen to fall into misery, but this that I
have chosen wil be the companion of all my misfortunes, without any fear that ever
she will quit me. I know that I ow a great deal of respect to my father, but I
know that I ow my life and my liberty to this woman; I must then love both the
one and the other, or keep my word which I have given her; for if my father will
not suffer himself to be perswaded, we will go voluntarily into banishment; we
are already accustomed to misfortune, and the misery that we shall endure together will no doubt be more supportable to us, than greatness and riches would
be if we were separated. As for the generous Slave, to whom I have promised liberty, I know not by what reason my father can pretend any right to deprive him
of it; he is neither his slave nor mine; and by the severest law of War he can lay
no claim at all unto him: He is a Christian I acknowledge, but all the Christians
here in Constantinople wear not fetters; he is a captive, but that is to Arsalon
and not to him; and a captive too, who after a breach of promise might with Justice break his chains; nor hath he sought for liberty but to give it me, and that
is it peradventure that hath made my father his enemy. It is true also that he took me, but it was in a just fight; by that reason I am his slave, rather than he is mine. Let thy Highness so order it, if it be possible, that I may acquit me as I ought. Behold all the crimes, my Lord, that I have committed; my father would have me
perfidious and ingratefull, and I had rather my father should hate me with injustice than love me unjustly. The generous Alibech seeing that Osman had made an
end of speaking, and having observed by the Bassa of the seas countenance, that
the discourse had rather incensed, than perswaded him, turned her self to Osman,
with tears in her eyes, and conjured him to obey his father; I will not, sayd she
unto him, have you faulty for the love of me; and since our affection cannot be innocent, extinguish it in your heart, and leave me the care of conserving it in mine;
remember that you are the sonne of the Bassa of the sea, and that you are not yet
my husband, you cannot dispense with your self for that first duty, and fortune doth




dispense with you for the other; I hold you acquitted of the promise which you
cannot perform to me without a crime, and I desire nothing of you but a will to
obey your father; when I shall see you resolved so to do, I will get me away alone.
Alas! said Osman, interrupting her, in what part of the World couldst thou find
a place of refuge? All the Elements are contrary to us; the sea hath no security
for us, nor is the land more favourable unto us; thy father and mine do banish us
from them both, and nothing but death alone can finish our miseries. Soliman being touched with the pitty of such tender apprehensions, would not leave them
long in pain; and though the Bassa of the sea would have replyed, he forbad him
to withstand his pleasure; but whereas he knew, that the true reason wherefore
he opposed the passion of his sonne, was avarice, so ordinary amongst the Turks, he told him, after he had consulted with Ibrahim, that the vertue of Alibech had
charmed him in such sort, as he would adopt her for his daughter, and how in
that quality he would give her three hundred thousand Sultannies in mariage with
her, commanding him to receive her for the wife of his sonne, and to intreat her as
if she were his daughter, assuring him that he would hold the place of father unto
her, and that he would interess himself in all that regarded her. That for the Slave
whom he had already pardoned, it was his pleasure, that he should remit him into the hands of Ibrahim to dispose of him as he would. The Bassa of the sea, who
indeed had found no other defect in the vertuous Alibech, than poverty, seeing her
to be rich by the bounty of the Sultan, changed his choler into giving of thanks,
and assured Soliman that he should be obeyed. Osman and Alibech rendred him
such acknowledgement as was answerable to the favour they had received, and went
away with as much satisfaction, as they had had sorrow: But it was Solimans
pleasure, that Alibech should first go and kiss the Robe of Roxelana, who was still
at the standing, where she had seen the Triumph. In the mean time, the day being
near to an end, the magnificences of this Triumph ended also by a volley of Musket-shot discharged by the Janizaries, which was answered by all the great Ordnance of the seven Towers, and that of all the Gallies. Great Soliman then retired to the Seraglio, with the Sultana Queen, attended upon by all the Troups, 
which afterwards conducted the Grand Visier to his, he that by his valour and 
prudence had been the only cause of Solimans Triumph.IBRAHIM, OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The First Part.The Second Book.IBrahim Bassa, being unable to vanquish the secret melancholy
which he carried in his breast, could not amidst all his Victories, and all the honours he had received, keep it from being
as visible in his eyes, as it was sensible to his heart. The Conquests which he had made of the Persians, the Battails which
he had won against the Rebels of Asia, had indeed filled
the whole extent of the Empire of the Mussulmans with
gladness: but this generall rejoycing made not his particular;
neither were utility and glory considerations strong enough to give unto his mind
only that first motion which precedeth joy. He was not ignorant, that fortune had
not abased him, but to raise him infinitely; howbeit he knew likewise, that she
had given him that which he desired not at all, and that she had taken from him
the only thing which made up all his desires, and all his ambition; he perfectly
knew, that the more happy he was for another, the more infortunate he was for
himself; and a news which he had heard the day before from Arsalons slave, had
stirred up so great a trouble in his mind, and agitated it with so much violence,
as forgetting all things to abandon himself to grief, he remembred not that he was
obliged to be present at the rising of great Soliman, of whom he was beloved with
so much tenderness, as he alone had permission to enter into the Seraglio as often
as he pleased, a favour so extraordinary, that it had never been granted to any person. He had also made choice of our Illustrious Bassa to be not only his Grand
Visier, but to repose himself upon him for all the affairs of the Empire. It was he
that commanded the Armies; it was he that made the Sangiacs, and gave them the
Government of Provinces; it was he that presided in the Counsell of State, and
that alone formed the resolution thereof in the Sultans Cabinet: Ibrahim was so
powerfull, that he wanted nothing but the sole name of Emperor, to be the chief
of all the Orient. In the mean time these favours of fortune could not keep him
from holding himself the wretchedest of all men; it was in this irksom thought
that the Aga of the Janizaries found him, when as he came to tell him, that the
Grand Signior complained of his sloth, and that it was his pleasure he should come
away unto him. Ibrahim, surprised with this commandment, which made him see
the fault he had committed, did what he could to conceal his grief from the Aga;
howbeit he perceived that there was some unquietness in his mind; Ibrahim told
him notwithstanding that he would go straightway and justifie himself to his Highness, and that if he durst he would rejoyce for having committed this offence, since




thereby he received so notable a favor. After this complement he went to the Seraglio, where at first when the Sultan saw him, he observed some extraordinary matter in his face; and whereas the Bassa had past the night without sleeping, his countenance seemed to him to be changed, he appeared to him very melancholick, and his humour being more unquiet than usuall, he pressed him to let him understand the cause thereof; but perceiving that Ibrahim answered not precisely, he demanded of him whether he had any ill news to tell him? Whether the Provinces which he had conquered were revolted? Whether the forces which he had left in the Frontiers of Persia, were defeated? Or whether he had discovered any conspiracy against the State, or against his Person? To all these things the grand Visier answered from point to point; that thanks be to Heaven, he had nothing to tell him that could be displeasing unto him; that the Provinces which his Armies had conquered were peaceable; that his Camp had nothing to fear, it being unlikely that the relicks of two Battells, which the Enemies had lost, should be of so sufficient power, as to dare to present themselves before an Army victorious, as his was; that for the Conspiracies whereof he spake, he besought his Highness to believe that his Empire was so well setled, as there was no force able to shake so
great a Body; that for that which regarded his person, his Government was so
just, as all strange people beheld it with envy, and all his Subjects with joy. The
Bassa had no sooner made an end of speaking, but the Sultan said unto him very
obligingly, Why then, Ibrahim, since thy melancholy proceeds not from any thing
that regards me, it must needs be something that concerns thee in particular, and as I am no less sensible on that side, than on the other, I
will know absolutely of thee, what it is that troubles thy minde; for
though thou hast laboured to put on a joyfull countenance in answering
me, yet hast thou not for all that destroyed the opinion which I have conceived.
Ibrahim, seeing himself so neerly prest, could not forbear blushing, and thinking
on vvhat he vvas to say, he cast down his eyes, and seemed to be strucken dumb,
which the Sultan having observed, imbraced him, and said. No, Ibrahim, do not
seek to disguise the truth unto me, I vvill know it of vvhat importance soever it
may be: Look not on me in this confidence, as on thy Soveraign, but as on Soliman, that is to say, as on a man that vvill partake with thee in all the good, and in
all the evill that can arrive unto thte; thy courage hath made thee shed blood enough in my service to oblige me to pay it vvith some tears, is it be so that I cannot bring other remedy to thy grief. The Grand Visier casting himself at the
Sultans feet, rendered him thanks for all the bounty he had shevved him; and
vvhereas he had leisure during Solimans discourse, to invent a pretext for his displeasure, he besought him to pardon him, if in obeying his Highness he should
say something, that vvould clash in some sort with the respest which he owed him.
After that the Sultan had made him to rise, and had sworn to him, that he would
not be offended with any discourse he should use to him, Ibrahim began to speak in
this manner; I know well, my Lord, that my melancholy is criminall; that the
cause of it is unjust; and that thy Highness cannot know it without condemning me; but since thy Majesty hath commanded me to discover it, I must confess that I never turn mine eyes to behold the baseness from whence thy Almighty hand hath drawn me, but I tremble with amazement; the place where thou hast set me is so high, as it is not altogeher without reason that I fear to be precipitated from it; and I find my self in the view of so many people, as I hold it almost impossible, but that the malice or envy of some should make me lose that which thou alone hast given me; nevertheless I am not ignorant that the same hand, which hath lifted me up, can sustain me; but, my Lord, if the respect which I ow to thy Highness, would premit me to represent unto thee the most remarkable changes which have hapned in this Empire, thou wouldst acknowledge, that having received far more than I have merited, I have reason to apprehend that that may be one day taken from me by justice, which thou hast given me by bounty. The pitifull adventure of Achmat under Bajazet the second, hath furnished matter for all those that




have succeeded in his dignitie, never to think themselves secure: He had confirmed the Throne of Bajazet; he had been the only man that mounted him into it;
in the mean time for a recompence of all his services he was strangled by two
Slaves. But, my Lord, not to go so far to seek for examples, that of Chassan
Bassa, Visier under the reign of an Emperor, who could not be but great, seeing
he hath given birth to thy Majesty, is not he able to strike fear into the firmest and
most innocent soul? since for giving good counsell, which had not been successful
if it had been followed, he lost that life which he had so many times hazarded for
the safety of this Empire: I should not have been so bold, as to have spoken of this
adventure in this occurrence, had I not remembred, that I have heard thy Highness bemoan the misfortune of that great man: Now therefore demand no longer
of me the cause of my grief, seeing thy Majesty knows it as well as my self; but
is it be true that I am beloved of thee, as I cannot doubt of it without a crime,
pardon only my weakness, and believe not that the discourse which I have made
is an effect of my ambition. I know too well, my Lord, that I cannot go higher,
and for that reason it is that I fear the inconstancy of fortune, who being unable to
raise me more, shall be constrained to destroy me for to follow her naturall inclination; it is an order which she hath kept in all ages, and I dare not hope that she
will break it in favor of me. But, my Lord, were I assured that she would be
contented with bereaving me of all the honors, which I have received from thy
Greatness, and that she would leave me heavy laden with chains, as I was when
it pleased thy Highness to free me of them, provided (I say) that she would not
deprive me of thy Grace, I should be untroubled, and live more happily being
thy Slave, than now I do being full of glory and favors. The Sultan having
hearkened to this discourse with a great deal of patience, could not at length
forbear interrupting him; I thought, Ibrahim, said he, that I had opened my heart so well unto thee, and so thorowly shewed thee my Love, as there
rested nothing more for thee, either to fear, or to desire; but since I am deceived in
my conjectures, I will pardon thy weakness, and if it be possible I wil cure thee of it. I
could, if I would, find some excuse for the violences which my predecessors have used
during their reignes, and tel thee, that in an Empire which was not as then well
setled, it was in some sort convenient to lean rather towards rigor, than towards
clemencie; but I will not undertake to make their apologie serve my turn against
thee; that which was just in their times, would not be reasonable in these; wherefore I will imploy other remedies, which, if I be not deceived, will make thee
know, that Sliman can tell how to chain up fortune when he pleaseth, and that he
is resolved, to measure thine with his life. The Bassa would have answered to so
obliging a speech, but the Sultan staying him said; I think, Ibrahim, thou hast not
forgotten, that it is by the meanes of the Sultana, my daughter Asteria, that I have
the commodity to see thee in my service. I should be too ingratefull, replyed the
Bassa, if I should not remember, that I ow my life unto her, and that which is
yet more precious unto me, I  ow her the honor of serving the greatest Monarch
of the world. That being, said Soliman, thou needest not doubt, that the design
which I have, should not please her; seeing that in a time, when as she knew thee
not but by thy good aspect, she judged thee worthy of her care; but to clear my
thoughts unto thee, and to dissipate the fear that masters thee, know, that I am resolved to place thee in our illustrious alliance, by making thee mary Asteria; and
to leave thee yet a more precious gage, receive the word which now I give thee,
(thou knowst, being what I am, that it is inviolable and sacred) remember then,
that I swear to thee by ALLA, that as long as Soliman shall be living, thou
shalt not die a violent death; judge now whether I can doe more, and whether
thou hast not been too blame to doubt of the firmness of my affection. It is true,
my Lord, said Ibrahim, that I am the most ingratefull, and the most faulty of all
men; but,my Lord,—and as he would have proceeded, he was suffocated in such
sort with grief, as it was impossible for him to speak in a long time. The Sultan,
surprised with this unexpected emotion, knew not whereunto to attribute the





cause of it. In the mean while Ibrahim, being somewhat come to himself again, resolved no longer to conceal the truth of his History; casting himself then once again at the feet of great Soliman: I know well, my Lord, said he unto him, that if thy Highness be just, thou wilt hate me as much as thou hast loved me; for after I have been so daring, as to disguise my thoughts unto thee; after I have been yet more in now telling thee that, I am not in a condition to accept of the honor which thou presentest unto me, I dare not hope for so much patience from thy moderation, as to hear that, which might render me excusable. It seemes to me, Ibrahim, ansvvered the Sultan, that after all the graces vvhich I have conferred on thee, thou oughtest to expect any thing from me, and yet ot add one more to that which thou hast craved of me, I promise thee to suspend my judgement, and not to think any thing to thy disadvantage, till I am forced therunto by thine own confession; prepare thyself then no longer to conceal anything from me, that concernes
thee: Thou knowst that I have divers times endeavoured to oblige thee, punctually
to recount unto me, both thy birth, and thy adventures; but having alwaies observed how that discourse did not please thee, I have had so much goodness, as to
speak to thee no further of it; but now that there is question of thy rest, and my satisfaction, thou must make a recitall to me of it with as much truth, as thou hast used
dissimulation heretofore. It is true, my Lord, replyed Ibrahim, that all that I have
told thee hitherto is but a fable; but it is true also, that all that which thy Highness is now to understand is the very truth: I cannot chuse but blush to think, how I am going to discover all my weaknesses; and is I did not know, that Love doth
oftentimes become the tyrant of the greatest spirits, and that thy Highness hath
not been alwaies insensible of that passion, I should not be so inconsiderate, as to
acquaint thee with my miseries. The Sultan, desiring that none should come
to interrupt this narration, went from his chamber into his Cabinet, where
liting down on Cushions of cloth of Gold, Ibrahim began to speak in these
tearmes.The History of Iustiniano and Isabella.THe City, where I took beginning, and that gives name to our Republique, is
situated on the bank of the Sea, which the antient Romanes called Ligustique, and is at this day termed the River of Genoua; this goodly City, I say,
whereunto for the magnificence of Palaces of marble, Jasper, and Porphirie, is given, and that with reason, the title of Superb by all the people of Italy, is built
on the bending of certain high and barren Mountains, which are so unfruitful, as
all the industry of agriculture, joyned to the heat of the Sun, the serenity of the
air, and the sweetness of the dew, cannot make one tree to grow, one flower to
spring, or so much as one herb to come up there. But is as nature had taken
pleasure to shew contraries opposed, there is leading toward France a Coast, all
alongst the which, Final, Savonna, Saint Reme, and Monaco, are seen, whose fertility is so great, that it produceth abundantly Dates, Oranges, Pomegranads,
Iasemine, and Mirtle. The many Rivers, and Fountaines, which are there, make
not the lest beauty of those places, for those waters are so pure and quick, as they
furnish sufficient coolness to temper the extreme heat of the Sun. It is on that Coast, about tvvo miles from Genoua, in going out of a Gate called the Lanterns that a
Borough stands, by the Italians named Arena, where one may say that winter never comes, since it is certain, that the Spring, and Autum, reign there alwaies together; the first causing flowers continually to spring, and the other fruites to ripen in it: But before I ingage my self to a mare particular description of the deliciousness of a place, that hath been the occasion of so much misfortune unto me,
it vvill not be from the purpose to make an abridgment of the Government of
Genoua, to thy Highness, to the end thou maist the more easily comprehend what
the persons are, of vvhom I am to speak in my History. It is to be knovvn then, that about two hundred yeares since the Genoueses elected a Duke, according to



the manner of the Venetians, who after he had conquered the Island of Ciprus, taken the King and Queen thereof prisoners, and performed many other brave exploits, died at length in the warres. After him they elected two more, whereof
the first acquired by his valor the Isle of Meteline to the Genoueses; but at length
after the death of the last they put themselves into the protection of Charles the
seaventh King of France, of whom being weary, they not long after chose the Duke
of Milan for their Defendor, who having not given them full satisfaction, it obliged them to chuse a Duke once again; but that proceeding being not equally agreeable unto all, because some held the party of France, and others that of Milan, it hapned that this disorder returned them absolutly under the Dominion of
the French, which commanded them,  untill the time that Andrea Doria, who is
of one of the most illustrious races of Genoua, put our City into the estate which
now it is, namely under the Government of the Nobility. I have made known
unto thy Highness the divers mutations which have befallen our Republique, to
the end thou maist with the less difficulty comprehend that, which hath made all
this Commonalty be divived a long while since into two principall factions;
the Heades of these two parties are the Fregozes, and the Adornes, ingaged, as
well as all the rest of Italy, in two opposite factions, so known and famous under
the name of the Guelphes, and Gibelius, with whom the Fiesques, the Doriaes,
the Spinolaes, the Grimaldies, the Justinianoes, and all the other illustrious Families ofGenoua have taken part. But to come to that which regards me directly,
I will not fear to tell thy Highness what my birth is, being consident of thy generosity: Thou maist be pleased to understand then, that I am of the illustrious
race of that infortunate prince, from whom the valor and fortune of Mahomet the
second, thy great Grandfather, took his Empire, and his life, and who interred
himself with all his glory, and with all that of the Paleologues under the ruines
of this famous City of Constantinople. Thou art not ignorant, my Lord, that after
so great a subversion of that State, and in so generall a destruction, all that remained of the Princes of the Imperiall House were dispersed over all the earth, and
not able to conceal their unhappiness in generall, some of them concealed themselves by changing a too famous name for their present fortune; Justiniano Paleologue, of whom I descended, was of that number; for seeing he had saved out of
that shipwrack wealth enough for a particular, but not enough for a Prince of so
illustrious a blood as his, he retired to Genoua, retaining but the name of Justiniano,
which since hath been the surname of our House, the very same with that of a Popular Family, which was before in the same City: And that poor Prince desiring to accommodate his quality to his misfortune, shut up that secret within his
Family, and in this sort, though we be in effect Princes, yet have we past ever
since for Gentlemen. That which obliged him to chuse Genoua for his retreat, rather than any other place of Italy, was, for that he knew how the Genoueses had
alwaies been well affected to that Empire; how they had mightily succoured
Michaelo Paleologue; and hovv in case it should happen that he should be known
for that which he was, he should be in a place of safety: And truly he had some reason to fear it, for he had  rendred himself so remarkable by the gallant actions
vvhich he had performed, and had so signalized himself on the day of the taking
of Constantinople, as he was the last that vvas seen to defend the breach; but at
length beholding the City taken, the Emperor Constantino Paleologue dead, and the
whole Empire subverted, he stole away his person from the victory of his Enemies; and being retired almost alone he took the resolution which I have delivered. I know very well, my Lord, that it is too much temeritie, in the estate wherein things are, for me to let thee understand, that I am of a blood, which gives me
some right to pretend to the Empire that thou possessest at this present; but, my
Lord, I am to tell thee, that in the disposition wherein I am for thy Highness, I
would prefer my former chaines before the Empire of my Ancestors; and that is
I were the distributer of Crownes, I would set them all upon thy head, reserving
nothing for my self, but the onely glory to obey thee. Soliman, not able to indure





that a discourse so generous should continue longer without an answer, took Justinianoes hand, and wringing it with a great deal of affection; I have alwaies indeed believed, said he unto him, that thy birth was as high as thy mind, and I am glad that I have not been deceived in my conjecture; and without knowing the right which thou couldst pretend to this Empire, I have at least rendred thee
all the justice that I could render thee; for I protest unto thee by all that is most
holy, and most sacred unto me, that if the conveniency of things would permit me
to yield thee up the title, as wel as I have given thee the power of it, I would do it
with joy out of the knowledge which I have of thy vertues, and out of the affection I bear thee. But continue, I pray thee, the relation of thy adventures unto me. Ibrahim would fain have answered to these civilities of Soliman, but being kept
from doing so by him, he proceeded in this manner. That last of the Paleologues,
and that first of the Justinianoes, had a sonne, called Philippo, who retaining something of his birth, had an imperious spirit, that would give place to no man; this
Philippo Justiniano, my great great Grandfather, finding himself alwaies opposed
to one Astolpho Grimaldi; the one having ever followed the party of the Fregozes,
and the other that of the Adornes; it was his hap also to be a pretendant to the
Charge of the Generalissimo, as well as he, so that their secret intentions breaking
forth in this occasion, they fell to quarrelling so outragiously, that they ingaged
all their kindred, and all their friends in their interests; and as their ambition was
extreme, so also was their violence. But without amusing my self in recounting
this troublesome History to thy Highness, it shall suffise me to say, that following
the detestable custom, which is observed over all Italy, that particular and persosonall hatred passed even to my father, who yet could never approve of that habit in his heart, that will have one receive with his life, the hatred of his Predecessors enemies, which being just for them, becomes unjust in their children, since
it is addressed to innocency; but at length to follow the custom, rather than his
inclination, Ludovico Justiniano (so was he called that gave me being) had never
any commerce with Rhodolpho Grimaldi, the chief of that other Family; contrarily
knowing that his enemy was of an haughty humor, and that he might draw some advantage from his goodnes, he alvvays took care to conceal it from him, and both on
the one, and the other part, they did all that an irreconcilable enmity could suggest to two vindicative and powerfull men. Behold, my Lord, the order wherein
I found things at my comming into the World; but without speaking of my infancy to thy Greatness, I will only say, that as soon as I had attained the age,
wherein strength began to permit me to travell, I obtained of my father the means
to content the extreme desire I alwaies had of going to admire the pompous ruins
of the antient Rome, and the grandeurs of the new; away I went then with an Equipage answerable to my condition; but my curiosity not being limited by the
view of one only City, I resolved to give no obedience to the commandment
which I had received to return unto Genoua within six moneths after my departure;
and as if fortune had taken pleasure to favour my design and inclination, she
wrought so, that the Emperor of the Christians came to Lucca, where I then being for to see the interview of the Pope, and that Prince, I understood that preparation was making for the War of Algier; I will not fear, my Lord, to confess
unto thy Highness how joyfull I was to meet with an occasion, whereby I might
learn a trade, which I was resolved to exercise all my life; I will therefore acknowledge freely, knwoing thy generosity, that he, who would now spend all his blood for thy service, was thine enemy in that action. This resolution taken, I had not much ado to execute it; for whereas Andrea Doria, Prince of Melphi, was powerfull wtih the Emperor Charles, he did me the honour to make me known unto him, and promised me to write unto my father, for to get him to be pleased with my design; the care that he took thereof was not in vain,for as soon as
he was advertised of it, being good and generous, he furnished me with means to
perform that voyage with magnificence. I will not tell thee the lamentable success of that War, because the tempest which shipwrackt our Army, was not of so



small importance, but that it may be imprinted in thy memory; the loss of tvvo
hundred vessels, and above fifteen thousand men, that were all swallowed up of
the waves, or dashed in peeces against the Rocks, was so dreadfull an adventure,
as the only remembrance of it strikes horror into me: At length, my Lord, I escaped that danger, after I had an hundred times seen death, for which I have been very
sorry I know not how often since; but whereas we had scarce any leasure to have
other enemies to fight with than the winds and the seas, I could not resolve to return to Genoua before I had found some opportunity, that might make me known,
whether I was worthy to carry the name of the Justinianoes; so that the relicts of
our Army parting from Bugia, where they had sought for a shelter, I would not
follow them that were discharged; contrarily I imbarqued my self with the Emperor of the Christians, who took the way of Majorica, and from thence went and
landed at Carthagena. But hardly was he arrived there, when as he saw himself
constrained wholly to quit all his designs of Africa for to think of defending himself
from the French. It would be unjust to abuse thy patience with the recitall of a War
which no way servs to my discourse, it wil suffice then that I say, how I followed him
three whole years together, except when he was at Genoua, whither I would not
go for fear of being retained by my parents. But at last, after I had been a witness
of all the brave actions which he performed in Navarre, in Germany, in Luxemburg
against the Duke of Cleves, and in Guelderland, I received express order from my
father to come home to him, which I presently did, though the Emperor was
loth to let me go. But, my Lord, what cause of misfortune hath that return been
unto me? Ah! how much better had it been for me that I had dyed in the Wars,
than to have gone to a place where so many grievous adventures were to befall me?
It was not, for that I was not received with joy, caressed by my kindred, imbraced by my friends with all kindness, and is I dare say it, regarded by the enemies
of our house with more esteem, than that inveterate hatred, which had been long
between us, would permit; but contrariwise it seemed, that the Fates had resolved to let me tast all the content of a quiet and delicious life, for to make me feel
at once, both the privation of the good, and also the evill which was prepared
for me. After I had then bestowed some time in receiving the caresses of our family, and that I had answered all the questions which my father made me touching
the War, and my Voyages; after, I say, I had recounted unto him an hundred
times over all the occasions wherein I had been present, I desired to make it appear, that War and Gallantry were not incompatible, and that after having been
three years in slaughter and blood, I was not returned from thence, nor more wild,
or more uncivill; I took care then to inform my self from my friends, whether
there were not some Assembly shortly to be, where I might make comparison between the Beauties of our Ladies, and those which I hud seen in Spain? Thereunto they answered me, that I might in a little time content my curiosity, for that
in three or four dayes the Nuptials of two persons of quality in our City would
be solemnized. I further demanded of them whether a Niepce of Andrea Doriaes
held not still the Empire of beauty? Or whether since my departure some other
had not bereaved her of that advantage, which had been given her with so much
justice? They told me, that she was fair, as I had seen her, but as for the prime
place, she had been constrained to yeeld it up to a springing beauty, which made all
that came near it to dy for love; and that they accounted me most happy for not
being exposed to that danger. But when as I demanded of them by what false consequence they conjectured that I was insensible of love? they answered me then, that
Isabella Grimaldi, the only daughter of Rhodolpho, was that same admirable person,
who could not be sufficiently praised, and of whom they had spoken unto me; and
that knowing the terms wherein we stood, they beleeved that I was so generous,
as I would not suffer my self to be vanquished by mine enemy. This discourse stirred up such an emotion within me, as hath made me to understand since, that there
is a supreme power which forceth us, whether we will or no, and without the aid
of our knowledge, oftentimes to love a person whom common reason forbids us



to regard. And consider, my Lord, the extravagancy of my adventure, I took a resolution then carefully to seek out all occasions to see the incomparable Isabella; and to shew that there was already something extraordinary in this motion, I concealed my curiosity, and my design from my friends, and made a secret and a mystery of a matter, wherein according to all likelyhood there would never be
any; and indeed soon after I quitted them, and without farther delay I went and
passed two or three times before the windows of mine enemy. It was not because I
knew not well enough that I should not see her; for it is the custom of Italy
well as of Constantinople, that all the windows of the Ladies have an iron-grate before them, which permits them to see, but suffers them not to be seen, unless they
will dravv up the grate, which is a grace they seldom shevv, and vvas not to be expected of me; howsoever I went thither, because I could do no othervvise. The
next morning I failed not to be more diligent than I vvas vvont, and I did all
that possibly I could to incounter her, for knowing her mother, I was certain that I
should have no need to ask her name; but whether it were, that whilst I was in
one place, she was in another, or that fortune would defer my captivity, I
could not meet with her any where, how carefull soever I was to do it. I demanded of my reason an hundred times over, what aim I had in this design; but
after I had reflected on this unquietness, I condemned my self, and resolved patiently to attend the hap of incountring her, vvho vvas to content my curiofity.
I past some dayes then after this manner in all the entertainments of a man of my
age and quality; the conversation of my friends, walks, and musick were my occupations, and the last quiet pleasures that I have tasted in my life. But, my Lord,
since I must recount my undoing to thy Greatness, and let thee see the field of my
defeat. I must say then, that Arena, whereof I have already spoken, is a Burrough
vvhere all the persons of eminent cpndition have houses of pleasure, the least
whereof may stnke admiration into them that understand gallant things; for all
that is beautifull in Architecture, all that is excellent in Painting, and all that is
marvailous in Sculpture, arc there to be seen in such perfection, as neither the eye
nor the vvit of the most skilfull can find any thing to reprehend therein. The
Terraces, the Grots, the Water-vvorks, the Galleries, and Balustrades, are there
so superb, as one can hardly beleeve the first time that one beholds such vvonders, but
that they are of those inchanted Palaces, vvhose descriptions, though fabulous,
leave not for all that to please our imagination. To conclude, all that Art, and
Magnificence can adde to a place, vvhereunto Nature hath given all her beauties
are eminently found in this same. It is here so near unto the City, vvhither all
the vvomen of quality use to go and walk; their liberty being far greater at Genoua
than in all the rest of Italy, the neighborhood of France having contributed
a part of their customs to it. It hapned then one day, that one of my dearest
friends intreated me to go and hear a consort of Lutes and Voyces, vvhich vvas
to be the next day at an house he had in that delicious abode; and vvhereas I have
alvvaies been touched very sensibly vvith Musick, I failed not to be there accordingly: it is certain nevertheless, that I came thither vvith a secret melancholly vvhich doubtless advertised me of the misfortune that vvas to betide me there; but I vvas not able to make any profit by this involuntary motion, vvhereof the cause vvas unknovven to me; I suffered my self notvvithstanding to be charmed vvith the svveetness of the harmony, and as it vvas at that time the only passion that mastered my mind, me thought it had dissipated my heaviness, and rouzed up my joy; this agreeable transport vvas the last moment that preceded my ruin: For, my Lord, when as the Sun was so low, as it could no longer incommodate either with his rays, or with his heat, the Master of the house told me, that before I went dovvn into the Garden, he vvould let me hear a marvellous Eccho, vvhich he had found out a little before, and which one of his neighbors had given him without thinking of it; hovv he had done him that good office, but causing a Grot to be made just against the windows of his Cabinet, and hollowed in the mountain in the form of a half Moon, which collected, and returned back the voice so admi-



rably, that the seventh repetition which the Eccho made, was distinguished perfectly. Scarcely was this discourse ended, but that devancing all the company I entered alone into the Cabinet, resolving to try the Eccho first of all; howbeit my
Lord, I had no sooner opened the windovv, but insteed of obliging the Eccho to
answer me, I my self lost the use of my voice, by the rapture vvherewithal! I
was seized, in beholding the fairest creature that ever Nature made; she was
leaning on a Balustrade of Jasper and Porphirie, which formed a Quadrant in
the midst whereof stood a Fountain, wherein four Nymphs of white Marble seemed to play together in bathing themselves; for by a marvellous artifice there parted from their hands in different actions, an abundance of water, which wetted
them, and made one believe that they cast it upon one another, making withall a
very  pleasing noise. If I had never seen this Fountain but in this incounter, I
should not have heeded it so much, as to be able to describe it; for I vvas so surprised with the charms of this unknovvn fair one, as I had no eyes but for her: I
changed colour twenty times in a moment, and hiding my self for fear of being
perceived, I considered her with all the attention that a man could have, who from
admiration was already passed even to love; it being most certain, that from the very
first instant I savv her, I felt my self forced with so much violence to love her as I
then fully resolved to dye, or to possess her. As I was in this estate all the company arrived, and shewed me that they were sorry I had quitted them so soon, because there had been a dispute about the nature of the Eccho, which would have
pleased me very much; after I had heard this discourse, vvithout answering unto
it, I asked whether there were any that could tell me the name of that fair one,
who sate musing on the brim of the fountain, which I saw in the midst of the Garden; in saying so, I softly opened the window, which I had half shut, and praying
them to make no noise, I shewed them that prodigy of beauty: I had no sooner
made an end of speaking, but by an hidden knowledge, which prevented their
answer, I felt something within me, that told me how it was the divine Isabella;
scarcely had this thought excited some trouble in my mind, when as one of my
friends confirmed this truth unto me, and demanded of me, is it was possible that
I should not know mine enemy? Why, said I, interrupting him, is she that I see,
the daughter of Rhodolpho? I spake this so loud, that I made her turn her face towards the place where we were, so that having perceived us she pulled down her
veil, and began to go away unto two women that were walking in an Alley a good
way off. To tell, my Lord, what became of me in this occasion, would be a difficult matter; my reason proved so weak, and my passion so strong, as little wanted,
but that forgetting all kind of good manners, I had at the very instant departed
from a place  that had been so fatall unto me, as to let me see in one onely person
the object of my hate, and of my love: But at length, the spight and the shame of
being seen with so much weakness, made me resolve to try to conceal it; I said
then to him that had spoken to me, that I was ravished with having so fair an Enemy, and that though she had arms which would easily render her victorious of
all them that she would subject, yet was I generous enough, for to combat a person by whom one might be vanquished without shame. After this they amused
themselves in seeking out the beauties of the Eccho; those of the company who
had the worst and the hoarsest voyces, forbore not forcing this Eccho to reproach
them with their defect, in imitating them: As for me, who had it not unpleasing at that time, it was impossible for me to sing, and howsoever I constrained my
self, I could not call to mind so much as one air, albeit I knew many. This entertainment lasted so long, that at length, the hour of our departure being arrived,
I returned to Genoua, but so sad and melancholick, that to conceal my unquietness
from my Father, I resolved not to see him all that evening: I retired then to my
chamber as soon as I was come home, and gave my people order to say,that finding
my self somewhat ill I was gone to bed, having first expresly charged them to make
no noise: After this I went into my Cabinet, where I was no sooner alone, but
the pourtrait of Isabella presented it self again before mine eyes; my imagination





figureed her so perfectly unto me, as I began to believe, that this adorable Phantasm appeared to me by the force of some charms; but after I knevv that it vvas pure effect of my memory, and of my love, I past from that thought to another, and regarding her no more as my Mistress, I considered her as the daughter of Rhodolpho; What, said I, to my self, shall I love mine enemy? Shall I choose for the object of my affection, her, who ought to be the object of my hatred? Shall I be so unworthy as to give all my services and my cares to a person, whose father imployes all his for the ruine of my house? No, no, I am more sensibel of mine honor, than of my passion; and how charming soever Isabella is, glory is yet more. When this resolution seemed to me to be well enough setled in my minde, I called a Groom of my chamber, whom I had stayed to attend me, and letting my self to be made unready, without knowing what I did, I laid me down in my bed; but alas! it was in vain that I sought for rest there, for whereas my thoughts were divided all the day by the diversity of objects, silence and obscurity made them amass all their forces to persecute me; and the same reason that had opposed me love, began to speak in favour of my passion: It represented unto me, that Isabella, was not guilty of her Fathers crimes; that there was injustice and cruelty in going about to eternize hatred; that a more 
noble occasion to make it cease could
never present it self; that my design would be always approved of by wise men;
that after all it concerned my content, and not that of others; that we live not
for another, but for our selves, and that by consequence I vvas not to forget any
thing that might give me satisfaction. This reasoning seemed so just unto me,
that I spent the rest of the night in thinking on the means to execute it; but the
more I considered this enterprize, the more I judged it impossible; the arrogant
humour of Rhodolpho, and the generosity of my father, seemed two obstacles very
difficult to be forced; but that which put me into further despair, was the thought
that Isabella her self would be inflexible to my Love: For, said I, is it possible,
that a maid, who hath been brought up with the hate of the Justinianoes, who no
sooner opened her eyes, but she beheld my house as her enemie, can resolve, I do
not say, to love, but only to indure that I should adore her. These divers agitations troubled me in such sort, as I could not form any design; but whereas love
cannot subsist without hope, I think that in the end I had surmounted my passion,
and broken my chains, if that fatality which will have me ruined, had not exposed
me once again to a new danger. I was scarcely out of my bed, when as my people told me, that I was invited to the Wedding of one of my Fathers friends, who
was to be married to a maid allied to Isabella; this news filled me with extreme
joy, and preparing to go thither, I took more care of my self, than ever I had
done in all my life before: But being resolved to see the arrivall of mine enemy, I
got me in good time to the place appointed for the Ball; I was no longer there
than to make the complements, which are usuall in such like occasions, whenas I
saw Isabella enter with such a dazeling Majesty, as imposed silence to all the company, and it seemed that she had inspired every one with modesty and respect. After
that this dumb admiration had continued a while, there was a confused noise heard
of acclamations and praises, which were given to her beauty; and the truth is
that envy it self could not find any thing in her to be amended. She hath a stature
so antagious, and a port so majesticall, as never was there woman seen of a better presence. Her hair is of colour brown, but so beautifull, as all those threads
of burnished gold, wherewith our Poets use to describe such, cannot represent
them; they fell that day carelesly upon her cheeks, and thence descended in thick
curls down her neck and bosom, but with a negligence so replenished with address,
that it defaced the handsomest curiosity of all the women of the Assembly. She
hath a complexion so white and vive, as there is no whiteness that seems not sallow unto it; but the same is mingled with so dainty a Carnation, which is shed a
broad in her checks, that the mixture of Lillies and Roses, of Cynoper and Snow,
could make but a slight Idea of her beauty. Her eyes are black, but so full of spirit and sweetness, as it is impossible to behold her, and not be taken with them;





yet are her looks so modest, and so far from all artifice, as it is very easie to know
that they are innocent of all the evills which they make one endure. She hath a
mouth neither too great nor too little, but so composed, and of so Vermilion a
hew, as there is no corrall that comes neer it. Her teeth are so evenly set, and so
white, as never were smiles so full of charms as hers; and her bosom so delicate
and so comely, as imagination cannot represent it to it self such as it is: There
is also a gracefulness mingled amongst all these marvells, which cannot be exprest,
and which renders her more amiable than all that which I have delivered. To
conclude, be it for the whole form of the face, or for all the features of it in particular, or for the air in generall, it is the most perfect beauty that ever Nature
produced. But, my Lord, had the souldiers that took me, left me the picture
which I had of her, and the Letters which she had written to me, I could have
made thy Highness see the truth of my words, and that the graces of her mind do
no whit give place to those of her beauty: It was then, my Lord, that Isabella
with all those allurements, appeared in that Assembly. She was apparelled in a
Gown of Carnation Sattin, imbroidered with gold and pearls, whereof the sleeves
were buttoned up with great Diamonds; the rest of her habit was of cloth of silver, imbroidered with Pearls and Emeraulds intermixt. She appeared so charming
unto me in this estate, as I could not for all that evening take mine eyes from off
her; and as I carefully observed her, me thought she perceived that I did not behold her as an enemie, and to render my joy yet more accomplished, I marked
how she blushed every time that we met together in the same Brawl, but in a fashion which perswaded me, that it was neither for hate, nor for anger. And whereas it is the custom of Genoua not to converse with the women of an Assembly, but
in leading them to dance, I took out one of my kinswomen, whom I had seen all
the evening with Isabella, and that I might oblige her to speak to me of her, I said
unto her, that I found it very strange she should hold such intelligence with mine
enemy; but without giving me leave to finish my speech, she answered me that the
talk they had together was so advantagious for me, as I had no reason to complain of it; and that as the praises which are given us by our enemies, are more
glorious for us, than others, because they cannot be suspected of flattery, I was no
longer to doubt of my good meen and address, since Isabella her self had judged
of it in favour of me, upon speaking of the grace and dancing of every man of
the Company. This discourse ravished me in such sort, as I could not forbear
looking on Isabella, as if I would thank her for so favourable a judgement; and as
she hath a quick and piercing wit, she knew both by my demeanor and joy, that
my kinswoman had given me an account of their talk, which possest her with so
much confusion, as it was impossible for me all the rest of the evening to incounter
her eyes. At length, my Lord, the company being separated, I returned home, but
so full of joy and hope, that my reason found not it self any longer strong enough
to oppose my passion. But not to stand on the recitall of these first proceedings
of my affection, wherewith I have already but too much importuned thy Highness,
it will suffice to let thee understand, that in the continuance of this happiness I
saw Isabella in two or three Assemblies more, from whence I alwayes went still
better satisfied; and after I had been so hardy, as to write divers times unto her,
and ready enough to finde the means to do it, I knew at length that my vows were
not rejected, and that my temeritie should not be punished. I obtained then the
permission to serve her, provided I were discreet, and that neither by my actions,
nor by my discourse, I should give any cause of suspecting our intelligence: I observed this order so religiously, that albeit there passed not a day wherein I saw
her not at her window, or an evening wherein I had not a Letter from her, or she
from me, yet was no body ever aware of our commerce. And to render my
good fortune more accomplished, it hapned that the people being fallen into a mutinie in the Isle of Corsica for some Contribution that should have been established
here, the Signioria deputed Rhodolpho for to go and appease that disorder; but
whereas his wife, named Julia, had been extreme sick, he would have her for the





recovery of her strengh to pass the time of his absence at the Borrough of Arena, where the purity of the air would restore her to her health sooner than at Genoua. I was advertised of this resolution the very same day that it was taken; but at first this news so grieved me, that I could not answer Isabella, who had sent it to me, for I imagined that I should be deprived of all the means of seeing, and of being seen of her: As I was profoundly musing on this adventure, all on a sudden I began to call to minde the window of the Cabinet where I had lost my liberty, which
made me think, that if Isabella would permit me to discover one part of my design to the Master of that house, who, as I have already said, was the dearest of my
friends, I should be the happiest of all men, since I might not only see, and be seen, but talk with her as long as she pleased. I wrote instantly unto her then to
propound her my design, but with tearms so full of love, and with such strong
resons for the prevention of all might happen to us thereby, as at length she consented unto it, though, as she told me afterwards, it was not without much repugnancy. I no sooner received her answer, but I went to seek out my friend, of whom
I desired leave to go and pass some time at that house of his; but whereas he
pressed me to tell him, whether his presence would not be necessary for me there,
I believed, that for the obliging of him to be faithsull and secret, I was to confide
in his discretion and fidelity; wherefore I acquainted him that I desired his house,
only to receive Isabellaes Letters by the Cabinet-window, which opened towards
the Grot of the Eccho, and that in the same place I hoped to see and speak with
her. He was so surprized with this discourse, that he stood a good while beholding
me without making any ansvver; but to keep him from indeavouring to oppose
my passion, I intreated him to give no ear to any reason that could speak to him
against me, but to hearken to my request; and seeing that it vvas by his means
that I vvas undone, he was obliged to have pity of the evill which he had caused;
I likevvise recounted unto him all that had befallen me, so that judging by the violence vvherevvith I spake to him, that I was too far ingaged in this design to be
diverted from it, he promised to yeeld a blind obedience to all that I vvould desire of him. In this sort we parted, and albeit Isabella had not permitted me to
make use of the Cabinet, but only to give her Letters, to receive hers, and to speak
to her at such times as vve could not be heard, yet I purposed not to rest there,
and vvithout advertising her of it, I caused a ladder of silk to be made, that thereby I might descend into the garden vvhen I thought fit, being out of hope of ever
meeting vvith a more favourable occasion to talk vvith her of my love. But not to
lose time, as soon as I knew that Rhodolpho vvas departed, and that Isabella vvas
at Arena vvith her mother, I resolved to go thither the same evening; novv to do
that secretly, I told my Father, that having made a match with Casar Doria, (for
so was that friend of mine called) we intended to go and pass away some time
at an house which he had neer to Gaui, to hunt the wild Bore, and to injoy all the
delights that the fields and solitude could give us. He approved of my resolution, told me that the season was too fair to be passed wholly in the City, and permitted me to go away that very day; I went then and found out Doria, who for
his part had taken care to make the same thing to be believed; and having but
one Groom of the chamber with us, we took the way of Gaui but as soon as we
were out of the sight of Genoua, we crossed the Mountain to get to Arena, where,
notwithstanding all the hast we could make, we did not arrive till ten of the clock
at night; for whereas we kept no way, we strayed three or four times. As soon
as I was come into Doria's house, and that he had commanded the Keeper thereof
to silence, I left him in his garden, for to go with much impatience to his Cabinet,
where I no sooner was, but I heard the voyce of Isabella, who indeed imagining
that I would not fail to be at the window, had for a pretext to get thither, and be
alone there, taken a Lute, saying that she vvould at leisure study an air, vvhich she
had not very perfect, therevvith to divert her Mothers melancholy. She vvas then
leaning on the same Ballustrade,vvhere I had seen her before; but if at the first time she charmed me by the eyes, at the second she charmed me by the ears; I vvas




so ravished to hear her, that notvvithstanding the desire I had to speak to her, yet
would I not interrupt her, though I infinitely feared lest she should be called away
before I had been seen of her; but in the end the fruition of a present pleasure
prevailed over the fear of an uncertain evill. I heard her then with all the admiration I was capable of: For, my Lord, she hath a voice so strong, so clear, so
sweet, and so charming, as she inspires the minds of those that hear her, with
the same passions which she expresseth by the airs she sings; and whereas night and
silence are the friends of Musick, there rested nothing more to make my contentment persest, than to adde to the delight of hearing, that of seeing distinctly: I
was not long without enjoying that happiness, for the Moon, which had been a
pretty while up before, made an end of dissipating of the shadow that had reigned all over the Garden, and in rendring me that good office, she made me also
to be perceived of her, so that she presently gave over singing, and approached to
the place where I was, but with so much circumspection, and so much fear, as
made me greatly to pitty her. She prayed me with a trembling voice to give
her a Letter if I had any, and that the next day, if I would let her down a string,
sbe would fasten her answer to it. After I had laboured to assure her as much as
possibly I could, she made me to understand, that we could not have any long conversation in that same place without being discovered, because if we spake softly
it would be unprofitable unto us, not being able to hear one another; and if we
raised our voices,it were to be feared that we should be over-heard from a close ally
that was not far off. I consented then to be contented with seeing her, and receiving her Letters by the way she had propounded unto me; but whereas I had my
design concealed, I besought her to tell me in what part her lodging was, to the
end I might at leastwise have the pleasure to imagine to my self the place where
she would be writing. But before she answered me, she looked round about, to
observe whether she might not be over-heard; after which she demanded of me,
if I did not see on my left-hand a Turret athwart the trees, which was joyning to the end of a Gallery, that made up one front of the Garden, and that answered to another altogether like unto it? and having told her that I saw it, she
added that her chamber was of an even floor with that same place; and that the
perron of it was just against the end of the close alley, from whence she feared to
be over-heard; and that if I would advance forth my head a little, I might see
the grate of her window. As soon as she had said this, she went away, having
first assured me, that such evenings as she could not come her self to receive my
Letters, she would send a mayd to me that lay in her chamber, in vvhom she
absolutely confided. After she was retired, and clean out of sight, I vvent presently and found out my friend, to whom I gave an account of our conference.
But, my Lord, seeing I must obey thy Greatness, in recounting all my adventures
unto thee, I must say, that after I had been three or four dayes obedient to Isabellaes pleasure, one evening she sent me that mayd which she made use
of, with a Letter, desiring me to excuse her if she came not her self; for
that being somewhat ill in the morning, she could not invent a pretext  to
obtain permission to come into the Garden according to her custom. This
news grieved me exceedingly, and so throughly confirmed me in my design,
that to execute it, I enquired whether Isabella were retired to her chamber? The
mayd told me, that she had left her at her windvvw, staying till she returned, which
she was instantly to do, because the doors would suddenly be shut, for the keys
were to be carried to her mother, who had commanded that to be exactly observed.
I threw her down my Letter then, and having dismissed her, I went and desired
Doria to assist me in the resolution I had taken to descend into the Garden. He
did all that he could to hinder me from it, but after I had told him, that I exposed my self to no danger, seeing that Rodolpho was not there, that Julia was
sick, and that in conclusion, I should enter into an house where there were none
but sleeping Women, the rest of the train being at Genoua, or gone with Rhodolpho;
I entreated him that he would only attend for me at the window, to the end
that if by ill fortune I were seen, I might save my self before they had time to open




the door for to follow me. Our contestation lasted long enough to perswade me
that it vvas shut, but yet I believed that Isabella was not gone to bed, and that my
Letter would entertain her untill such time as I should come unto her, because by
good hap it was very long. So I began to fasten my Ladder and Doria, more vanquished by my intreaties, than by my reasons, set himself also to help me; and
whereas I feared nothing in this enterprise but Isabellaes displeasure, I never
thought of mine own safety, hovvbeit Doria made me take a brace of Pistols, and
my sword with me, whereupon I descended into the Garden, and calling to mind
that the close alley was corresponding to Isabellaes lodging, I went along through
it, for fear of being perceived, either from the Gallery, or the mothers chamber;
when I was arrived at the end of the alley, I observed that there was no light in
all that Turret, but in one window that had a grate, which I imagined to be Isabellaes Cabinet; I approached thereunto then as softly as possibly I could, and
whereas the vvindow was low, I might easily see all that was done in the room
through the glass, so that I perceived Isabella, but with so much grace in the negligence wherein I saw her, as I knew well, that art added nothing to her beauty. She
was leaning on her left elbow upon a little table, where my letter lying open before her, she had her eyes fixed on it, whilst Feliciana (so was the mayd that served
her called) undoing of a string that tyed up her headgeer, covered her almost all
over with her hair; but Isabella, coming as it were out of a dead sleep, and puting
it aside with her hands told her she would not go to bed yet, for that she was resolved to write unto me first. It were better, said I unto her, pushing the casement
that was not shut, that you would grant me the honor to entertain you a vvhile.
She vvas so surprised with seeing me in that place, as she could not forbear screeking out, whereupon she would have passed into her chamber, but not able to open
the door thereof so quickly, I had leasure to tell her, that is she put me into despair, I was apt enough to kill my self before her window: She fell down then
upon the cushions not able to speak, which gave me time to crave pardon of her
for my boldness; I besought her to remember the discretion I had always used
since the day she had permitted me to serve her; that this was the onely disorder
whereunto my passion had carried me; and that if she would take the pains to consider it, she would not judge this fault irremissible. Do you believe then, said she,
in approaching to the window, that to put my glory and your life in hazard is a
crime of small importance? But at length, after I had made her to comprehend,
that there was less danger in speaking with her, when all the World vvas retired,
than at such time as she of her goodness had granted me, I got her to consent, that
from thenceforward I should alwaies see her in that sort. Our conference was
so long, as the awaking of the birds made me know, that it was time to let her go
to sleep; but before I left her she gave me her picture, which she had drawn in imitature, by beholding her self in a glass; for this divine person is skilfull in all excellent Arts and Sciences: She also permitted me to kiss her through the grate, a
favour which I may well say, was the onely privacy that ever she accorded me during all the nights which I have past in entertaining of her. I vvithdrew then
by the same way I came, but so satisfied with the wit of Isabella, that I began to
love her more for her vertue, than for her beauty. I found my friend in an extreme impatience for my return, and ready to come and seek me out for to know
whether any misfortune had befallen me; but to recompence him for this pain, I recounted unto him all that Isabella had the most obligingly said until me; the vovvs she had made to love me everlastingly, and absolutely to renounce the world rather than be any others than mine; and that whereas I would have perswaded her to suffer herself to be carried away for the avoyding of our fathers tyranny, who would be forced to agree together rather than lose us, she had withstood it with so much prudence and sweetness, as I was constrained to confess, how strong soever my passion was, I could not merit Isabella. It was in this manner then, my Lord, that I past away that lucky absence of Rhodolpho; but at length his return changed the order of things, and Isabella went back to Genoua with her mother, as me-





lancholick, as I was afflicted; we had been so accustomed to see and speak to one another, that the privation thereof was insupportable to us; and although I went
every morning to receive a Letter at her vvindow, and to give her one of mine;
yet could we not comfort our selves against the constraint wherin vve lived. And as
if it were not enough that we vvere persecuted by our own misfortune, Isabella saw
her self also troubled for a mishap of her fathers, who in executing the Commission which he had to go into Corsica, had procured unto himself the enmity of the 
family of the Spinolaes, by saying at his return, that the Governor, vvho vvas of
that house, had contributed in some sort to the mutiny of the people, and that if
he vvould he might have hindred the sedition that was raised there: This report
obliged the Signiora to cite the Governor to come and give an account of his
action, which made Isabella to fear that this mans revenge vvould fall heavy upon her father. As for me, who had no other interest than that of the incomparable
Isabella, I was even mad for that I durst not offer my sword to Rhodolpho, vvho
was at that very time plotting my death; for whether it were, that he vvas advertised how I went every night about his house, or that he knevv of my being at Arena
by some way unknown to me, one evening, as I was alone with my sword under
Isabellaes Window, he came thundring upon me, with eight men armed, in such
fury, as I had hardly the leasure to put my self into defence; now though it was
very dark, yet chanced I to know him, and thereupon resolved, rather to be
killed, than dip my hand in the blood of the father of Isabella: I did nothing
therefore but ward the blows which he laid at me; but tvvo of his advancing towards me, I had not for them the same respest that I had for him, so that collecting all my forces together to oppose their violence, I extended them dead at my
feet; the rest, who saw this so sudden an execution, made a little stand, during the
which I got me to the end of a narrow street, that was not above tvvo or three
steps from me, for fear of being inclosed, where I fought a good while without receiving any more than two vvounds, which I got because I would not strike Rhodolpho; but at length I should have fallen in this unequall combat, had it not been
for a succour that arrived unto me. And consider, my Lord, the strangeness of my
adventure; that which should have been the cause of my undoing, was the cause of
my making: for it hapned, that at such time as I was pressed most by mine enemies,
the same offended Governor, of whom I have already spoken to thy Highness
came, accompanyed with fifteen or sixteen, and assaulted them behind. In this disorder I never stood doubting which part I should take, but siding my self with Rhodolpho, I said unto him, that I was come to lose that life for him, which he would
have taken from me. And whereas I fought then for Isabella, since it was to save
her father, I found my forces redoubled, and my courage increased; whereupon
being to imploy my best indeavour in the action, I attacqued the chief of the enterprise with such ardour, as albeit he were one of the valiantest men of our age,
yet by the good fortune of arms I surmounted him. As soon as he fell, one of his
followers cried out, that his Master was slain; this voyce put all that troop into
such disorder, as they thought of nothing but of flying, although they were in a condition to have destroyed us; for whilst I was engaged with their Chieftain, they
had killed three of Rodolphoes men, who in the heat of the fight had observed how
I had guarded him with mine own body, and that by my hand his enemy lost his life.
After I had pursued them that fled a good way off, for to keep them from making
head again, I saw Rhodolpho come towards me with open arms, and as soon as he
could imbrace me, he demanded of me, whether after I had been so generous as to
save his life, I could be so likewise for to pardon him; and how, if that might
not be, he judued himself unworthy to live; how he knew well enough that he
had committed a barbarous and cruell fact against me, but how I knew also that
he was the father of Isabella:  He said this to me with so much resentment and
tenderness, as being no longer able to keep me from interrupting him, I assured
him, that I should never be mindfull of any thing hereafter but of the goodness
which he had showed me; that the grace which he did me in promising me his





friendship, was far greater than the outrage I had received; and htat on the contrary one might say, he had done an act of justice in going about to punish my temerity; and that now he did one of clemencie, in accepting of the service which an enemy had rendred him. This while Rhodolphoes people would have carried away their dead men, hoping that they which were in this fight, should not be discovered, if no mark thereof were left in the street; but Rhodolpho commanded that 
they should not touch them, for that he was resolved to complain
the first; and observing that I did not bear up very well, he asked me whether I
were hurt? I answered him that I thought I was, but it was slightly, and that
when I had put him into a place of safety, I would go home and see how it was
with me. No, no, my sonne, said he imbracing me, it would be unjust, that the
father of Isabella should be the cause of your hurts, and she not be your Chirurgion. In saying this he made me enter in at his gate, where I no sooner was, but, the loss of blood having extremely weakened me, I swooned in his armes, whereat Rhodolpho cryed out so loud, as I understood afterwards,that his wife and daughter
believed his enemies were still pursuing him into his house; they ran in then
affrighted in all hast: but whereas they knew not the particularities of that which had past, they were mightily astonished to see me in that place, and in that estate. Isabella believed at first, that her father, having gotten some notice of our love, 
had brought me thither to put me to death before her eyes, but she was mightily
surprised, when as she heard him give order for the speedy fetching of Chirurgions, and beheld me led to his chamber, and he himself helping to sustain me. Isabella
was so skared with that she saw, as is her mother had not held her up, she had fallen
down by me. Her father seeing her in that case, said to her weeping, as I was told
afterwards, you have reason, daughter, to love the most generous of men, and if I
be so unfortunate as to be the cause of his loss, I consent that you shall hate me as
much, as I have hated him; but without further lamenting, let us indeavor to succor
him. The voice of Rhodolpho having brought Isabella to herself again, she would have
made some excuse, but enjoyning her to silence he commanded her to follow him
to his chamber, whither I had been carried before. As soon as they had laid me on
a bed I began to open mine eyes; and consider, my Lord, what my apprehension
might be, when I saw my self between Rhodolpho, Jsabella, and Julia, who came to
know, by one of those that were in the action, that I had saved her husbands life,
it was so great, that I thought I should have swooned again, but the Chirurgians,
being arrived, applyed remedies that kept me from it. After they had searched my
wounds, they assured them that there was no other danger in me but loss of blood, so
that if I were suffered to rest they hoped to cure me very speedily. As soon as I was
drest, and that Rhodolpho had been acquainted with their report, he came to me
with a smiling countenance, and said, that seeing he was assured of my life, he
was not in despair of recompensing me for the service I had done him; that in the
mean time he would go and advertise my father of all that of all that had past, to the end that
after they had imbraced one another, they might conjointly think of what they
had to doe. But having told him, how I held it not fit, that he should go forth, I
besought him to permit me to write two or three words to Doria for to come to
me, and that when he was come we would send him to my father. Isabella approved this counsel, so as it might not incommodate me; and having assured her that
I found my self strong enough for it, she gave me paper, wherein I wrote, without
seeing that which I did, so weak I felt my self, when I tryed to lift up my head. But Rhodolpho, desirous exactly to observe what the Chirurgians had enjoyned, gave order to Julia and his daughter to keep me from speaking, to draw my curtaines for fear the light should annoy me, to have as great care of me as of him, and not to leave me till I was in a better estate. I besought him then to permit me to say one word more unto him; whereupon he approched to me, and pressed me to give him some occasion to serve me. I answered him, that the grace which I desired to obtain was, that he would not speak, either to Doria, or to my father, of our first incounter, but would be pleased to say onely, that good fortune had brought me by




chance into the street where he was set upon. Rhodolpho was so ravished with this
discourse, as he could not forbear imbracing me, and saying alowd, that as the
conservation of his honor was more dear unto him, than that of his life, the care
I took to deface the stain  which he had made in it, obliged him more streightly,
than the blood I had shed to save his. As I would have answered, he stayed me, and
went away to give order for all that he thought was necessary, both for his safety,
and mine. And whereas Doria dwelt not far off, he came not long after into the
chamber where I was, but so surprised, and so amazed, to hear that I was wounded, to see me in Rhodolphoes house, and to find Jsabella and Julia siting by my beds
side, that he was a long time in a doubt, whether he was well awake, or no. Rhodolpho, having been advertised that he was arrived, came and entertained him with
so much civility, and spake so advantagiously of me, as I was constrained to pray
him to change his discourse, and to think rather of the necessity of our affaires,
than of praising me unjustly. Doria was instrusted then in the estate of things, and of
our intentions; Rhodolpho desired him to tell my father, that he would have gone
home to him, if I had not hindred him, to crave pardon for all that had past betwixt them, and to intreat him to think well of it, that his daughter might be the
reward of the combat, which I had so happily undertaken for his defence; how
he was not ignorant, that Isabella had been more equall than he, in esteeming of
me as soon as she knew me; and that for him he was not so ill informed of my designs, but that he had been advertised of those which I had for his daughter; in
the end so to do, said he to Doria, that the Families of the Justinianoes and the Grimaldies may be united with an indissoluble knot: More than this I have not to
say, Lodovico knowes the Nobility of my House, understands the riches of it, and
cannot doubt but that the Principality of Monaco will one day be Isabellaes. Doria promised to imploy all his address to make the matter succeed according to
our desires. Rodolpho instantly requested him, I earnestly conjured him, and Isabella
with her eys only intreated him thereunto. He went then to my Father, who was so
surprised with every thing that Doria imparted unto him, as he divers times asked
of him, whether he had not lost his understanding: what, said he, as I knew afterwards
by Doria, in one very hour hath my sonne saved the life of his enemy? hazarded
his own by the wounds which he hath received? killed the enemy of Rodolpho?
made peace between the Justinianoes and the Grimaldies? and for a conclusion, hath
Isabella and the Principality of Monaco been offered him by Rhodolpho? No, no, Doria, all that you tell me is far from all likelyhood; you talk to me of blood,
of murther, of slaughter, of reconciliation, and nuptials all at once; how doe
you think that I can accord all these things, and can joy and grief be compatible?
But in the end, my Lord, that first transport being over, Doria assured the matter so
seriously unto him, as he was constrained to make no longer doubt of it. I confess that in this incounter I was more happy than I hoped; for as soon as my father was perswaded to this truth, Doria found his mind in the terms that I desired. I think, my Lord, I have already told thy Highness, how Lodovico never approved of that unjust hatred, which passeth with the succession of Kinsmen, and
that was the reason why he was so easily carried to what I wished. He came then
accompanied with Doria and some of his servants; to the house of Rhodolpho, who
received him with a free and open countenance, and with such strong protestations
of acknowledgement and amity, as it was easie to observe, that his eyes and his
mouth expressed the meaning of his heart; and as my father would have been very sorry that his antient enemy should have surpassed him in curtesie and generosity, returned his complements with so much civility, as it would have been
hard to imagine, that those two men, who so kindly embraced one another, had
been mortall enemies all their life-time before. Rodolpho having brought Lodovico to my bed-side, said unto him, that he was much grieved to render him his
sonne in that estate wherein he saw him; but to repair that misfortune, he besought him to accept of a present that he would tender him; whereupon he caused
Isabellato approach, and presented her to my father, who beheld her with so much




admiration, as I doubted not but that he approved of the choice I had made of her; and presently speaking he assured Rhodolpho, that though he and I had hazarded our lives a thousand times over for her service, yet could not all that countervail the price and merit of so fair a maid. Rhodolpho interrupting him, said, that giving himself, together with Isabella, and all his estate, yet should he be infinitely indebted unto me, that my modesty forbad him to extend himself on the obligations wherein he stood ingaged unto me, but how that could not hinder him
from resenting them as he ought; in the mean time he requested him to receive
Isabella for his daughter-in-Law, upon such conditions as he pleased, to the end
that after he had his word for it, they might think of that which was necessary to
be done for their safety. My father turning himself then to me, said, that
hee held it superfluous to ask my advice in a matter that vvas so glorious for me, and that I had so happily resolved upon without him; so that,
said he, taking Isabella by the hand, it is on you that the conclusion of this important affair doth depend. But Rhodolpho seeing her blush, without daring to
answer, told Lodovico, that his daughter could no better express her consent, than
by that shamefastness, which made her to blush and be silent; the modesty of her
sex, and of her disposition not permitting her to testifie her joy, but in such a manner. Rhodolpho and my father then promised an inviolable friendship one to another, and ordained us to do the like in their presence; and for a gage of this promise, Lodovico, who ordinarily wore a rich ring on his finger, took it to me for to
give to Isabella, as a pledge of the faith which we had promised to each other. I
observed this ceremony with so much pleastire, as spight of my miseries and hurt
I never felt the like before, nor since; but at length, after this happy accord, they
retired into another chamber to think of what they should do: My Father was
of the opinion, as well as Rhodolpho, that he should send to make his complaint as
soon as the Concell should be assembled; but that he held it not fit either for him
or me to stay in his house; that the Family of the Spinolaes were powerfull enough
to keep themselves from having any manifest injustice done them; and that albeit
their kinsman had been the agressor in that fight, yet the Laws would have the
dead always to be favoured, and that he which had killed any one should be always punished; that for this reason he was to retire to his Principality of Monaco, where he might attend safely and commodiously the success of things; that
place being in a situation so advantagious, and so well fortified, as it could keep
out a Royall Army; that as for me, I should finde an inviolable sactuary in the
Army of the Emperor Charles, whom I had already served; but whereas I was
not in an estate to travell, by reason of my wounds, which peradventure would
keep me a long time in my bed; and for that also he could not go out of the City presently, because the gates were shut, he advised that without further delay,
and before the day appeared, I should be transported into some other house,
whereof the Master was so much respected, as no violence might be feared there.
Rhodolpho and Doria approved of this proposition, and began to bethink them what
place would be proper for the same; but Lodovico told them, that he was not
troubled about it, for that the Palace of Sinibaldo, Count of Lavagna, chief of
the Family of the Fiesques, would be an assured retreat for them; that the high
rank which those of that House had held in Genoua for so many ages, would not
permit that either the insolency of their enemies, or the rigor of justice, should
enterprize any thing upon them; that for the rest he doubted not but that he
should obtain that grace ot them as soon as he should demand it; that they had
alwayes favoured him in all things; and that generosity was so naturall unto
them, as in all times their Palaces had served for a retreat to all worthy persecuted persons. It was then resolved, that Lodovico should go immediately and intreat him thereunto, Doria went also along with him, and they found him fast asleep; but my Father having told his people, that he was necessarily to be awakened about an important affair, they knowing Lodowico made no difficulty to do it. As soon as he saw my Father by his bed-side at such an hour as then it was, he




doubted that some urgent matter had brought him thither; wherefore he demanded of him, whether he vvere so happy as to be able to serve him? Then my
father recounted unto him in few vvords all that had befallen me, wherevvith
he vvas so strangely surprised; but without giving him leave to make his request
he to told him, that he was too blame in not causing him to be brought to his
house. And when my father answered him, that he durst not doe it before he had
intreated him thereunto, Sinibaldo seemed to be offended vvith that circumspection, but since the fault vvas done, he vvould pardon it upon condition, that himself might go and help to convey me thither. And so calling to his servants he commanded them to make him ready vvith all speed. My father did all that he could
to stay him from going, but could not prevail, for Sinibaldo told him, that the
Spinolaes were violent, and that peradventure meeting them in the street a second
misfortune might happen, that when he should be present with all his train, he
could not believe they would be so daring, or so stroug, as to set upon us. My father then consented to what he pleased, and he being quickly ready, they parted
instantly to go to Rhodolpho, who in the mean time had setled his domestick affaires.
When Sinibaldo was arrived, and had represented to Rhodolpho how glad he was
of our reconciliation, be prayed my father and him to arm all their people, and to
give order for whatsoever was necessary for the transporting of me, during the
which he approched to the bed where I lay, exceedingly afflicted to see them going to separate me from Isabella, who was withdrawn to the other end of the chamber, when as Sinibaldo entred; but as soon as he perceived it, he told me that he
would not deprive me of an happiness, which I was so suddainly to forego, and that
he should have leasure enough at home to commend my valor; that is he durst he
would have desired Isabella to return thither again, but that he thought it fitter to
leave us at liberty together; herewith he went forth without giving me time to
answer him; and he was no sooner out of the chamber, but putting by the
curtain I saw that Isabella was alone there; for the confusion, wherein
the house then was, had so busied Julia, as she never thought of that civilitie;
I besought her then to come nearer unto me, that I might bid her adew; at that
word the teares came into her eyes, and my speech failed me; she came then and
sate down by my bed side, with so much sadness painted in her face, as much augmented mine; but after I had inforced my self to speak, I said unto her: At length,
my dearest Isabella, fortune hath joyned us, and fortune doth separate us, but
what rigor soever she doth exercise towards me, she cannot longer keep me from
dying with glory, now that I have the honor to be yours; she may indeed separate
our persons, and it may be for a long time, but she cannot disunite our hearts, if
so it be true, that your affection is answerable to mine. You may judge, said she interrupting me, whether a maid, that hath not feared to offend her glory, in loving
her enemy against the will of her Parents, be capable of change to a man that exposeth his life for her sake,  and to save her fathers; believe then, and without ever
doubting, that all the powers ofthe earth, opposed against my design, shall not so
much as make me waver; and that Jsabella will be absolutely yours, or never will
be any bodies. Her sighes suffocated her in such sort, as it was impossible for her to
say more; and as I was about to give her thanks for so obliging a speech, and mingle my teares with hers, Sinibaldo, Rhodolpho, Julia, Doria, and my father came again into the chamber, so that all I could do, was to say unto her, wringing her
hand, that she should alwaies remember her promises, and that then she should be
most assured, that nothing but death should separate us. Immediately hereupon
they, which had order to carry me away, approched to my bed, and by the commandment of Sinibaldo, seated me in a chair, that was prepared for me. Rhodolpho,
who most tenderly loved his wife, and daughter, began then to bid them farewell:
Jsabella, who till that instant had kept her self from weeping, seeing she had a fit
oportunity for it, shed so many teares, and fell a crying in that manner, as moved
all the assembly to  pitty: I knew for all that, mauger my sorrow, that I shared
therein with her father; who, willing to shew some constancie in this occasion,



bad her to come unto me, and give me her hand. To tell thee, my Lord, what I
felt in the moment of our separation would be impossible for me, since it is certain that I had never so much grief, as I had at that time, in eloigning my self from
Jsabella, but in the end I was to resolve for it; and after I had kissed her hand
without speaking to her but with my eyes, I was carryed away, so lost,
as I do not remember the order that we held in the streetes; howbeit I was told
afterwards, that Sinibaldo divided his men into two parts; and that I was placed
in the midst of them, where Rhodolpho and Doria had in charge not to abandon me,
whatsoever should arrive; Sinibaldo put himself into the head ofthe Troop, and
my father marched in the rear, to the end that on what side soever they were assaulted, a man of command and courage might still be there. But whereas the
Spinolaes knew not that we were retired to Rhodolphoes house, they never thought
of lying in wait for us, so that we got to Sinibaldoes without any bad incounter;
After I was laid in bed, he and my father advised, that it would be easier for Rhodolpho to get away to Monaco as soon as it was day, than is he stayed longer, because his enemies had not had leisure yet to think and consider of all, that might
hurt, or help them; to that purpose they judged it fit to disguise him like a Mariner, and to put him into a Feluca, which might easily carry him to that place of
safety. Rhodolpho consented to whatsoever they thought good, and Sinibaldo took
upon him the care of dispatching the business: He sent then to the Port as soon
as day began to appear, to hire a Feluca, upon condition it should part presently; and that the Master of it should lend one of his habits; the money which was offered to this man, was so much, as ravished with this incounter, and without further inquiry, he said that he was ready to part, and that for one of his habits he
would lend it, so as he might be permitted to goe home to his house, because he
had none there. He that made the bargain agreed he should do so, but for fear he
should discover any thing he would goe with him. The Master ofthe Feluca, who
thought of nothing but his gain, was contented with it; away they went together
to fetch that habit, and that done, he left that man in the guard of one of his fellowes, whom he had brought thither with him, and came and rendred an account
of his voyage. Immediately Rhodolpho disguised himself,  and seeing it pretty far
day he took his leave of Sinibaldo and my father, who both of them promised him
to doe in his name all that they had resolved on, and whatsoever else they judged
would be requisite to procure his liberty. Lodovico and he shewed so much generosity in this separation, and spake so obligingly one to another, as Sinibaldo
could not forbear telling them, that Spinola could not have been lost more profitably for the Common-Wealth, seeing his death had served to make two so great
and excellent men become friends. When they had answered to this civility, Rhodolpho came to me, with so much kindness, and such testimony of acknowledgement and friendship, as I was sensibly touched therewith: He assured me once again
with oathes, that his daughter should be the reward of the blood which I had shed
for him, provided I did not change my resolution. The weakness wherein I was,
did not keep me from rendring  him thanks, as I ought, for so obliging a discourse; but at length he went away to find out the Master that waited for him:
Sinibaldo did not let him go without a guard; he caused six of his servants to follow him a loof of, and he himself went to the Port for to see him part. Rhodolpho
was so fortunate, that he crost through the City without meeting any one that
knew him; he imbarqued himself then with all possible speed, and in a little time
arrived safely at Monaco, where he was received by his subjects with joy. As soon
as the Councell was set, they vvould have complained in Rhodolphoes name, but
they found themselves prevented by the space of a quarter of an hour onely; and
that the father of him vvhom I had killed, had accused me for the death of his
sonne: for though our fight vvas in the night, yet vvas I knovvn by my voice    and
the follovvers of him that vvas slain had marked, hovv he and I vvere ingaged in
a particular combat. This accusation appeared at first so unlikely to the Judges, as they gave no credit at all unto it; and vvhereas they vvere not ignorant of that




inveterate hatred which was between the Justinianoes and the Grimaldies, they could
not comprehend how I should be induced to fight for mine enemy. As they were
in this pain, my Father presented himself to demand justice of them for the violence had been done me, and to colour the matter he told them, that passing by
chance along the street, I had seen Spinola set upon Rhodolpho with so much advantage, as my generosity not able to indure it, I presently resolved to labour the hindring of that mischief, or is I could not, to side with the weaker party, as I have
done; that in this occasion I had been dangerously hurt; that nevertheless knowing the power of the Spinolaes, and fearing lest the Senate should be misinformed
of the truth of the matter, I had absented my self till such time as justice was done
me. My Father made this discourse with such earnestness, and so advantagiously
for Rhodolpho, as it was easie to discern that he was no longer his enemy. But
whereas the affair was important, in regard it concerned three ofthe principall
Families of the City, they resolved nothing for the present, but referred the matter to the next day, with order notwithstanding to the Spinolaes to cause their witnesses to be examined the day following. This news was instandy spread over all
the City, with so much admiration and astonishment, as no body could believe
it the first time they heard it; contrarily all those of Genoua said openly, how it
could not possibly be, for that the hatred which passeth successively into the minds
of men cannot be extinguished in a moment,and that by consequence it was not credible, that I could pass from one extremity to another in an instant,and that I should
render to the greatest of mine enemies all that the dearest of my friends could expest
from me. But as nothing can be long concealed, it was quickly known, that love had
begot friendship, and that the passion which I had for Isabella, was the noble cause of
this adventure. In the mean time the whole Common-wealth was divided; and although the faction of Sinibaldo were the stionger and most considerable, and that
it was absolutely for us, yet could it not hinder the passing of an express order for
the searching out, and apprehension of us. And whereas the dead party is alwayes regarded, all the grace we could obtain was, that the affair should not be
precipitated, and that it should be prolonged as much as the forms of Justice
would permit. Whilst things past in this manner, I wrote every day to Isabella,
who answered me with so much wit and sweetness, as I could not be but happy
in the constraint wherein I lived. But at length my wounds being cured, I was ashamed to remain shut up in a house at a time wherein I might make use of my
courage, and shew my Judges that I was not a man to be cast away; howbeit I
felt an extreme violence for the executing of this resolution; for though I were
deprived of the sight of Isabella, as well within Genoua, as if I had been further off, yet found I for all that some content, in thinking that we were within the iuclosure of one and the same City; but sense was to give place unto reason, and I
was to follow the will of Isabella, which served much to make me depart the rather, for knowing the violence of my passion, she imagined that being thoroughly
well, I would have much adoe to keep my self from stealing unto her some evening, according to the proposition I had made her to that purpose; so that to avoid the mischief that might arrive to me thereby, she pressed my departure: I
propounded it to my Father, who approved of it; the difficulty was to get forth of
Genoua without danger; but whereas Sinibaldo never found any thing difficult to
serve his friends, he told us, that he had an infallible means for to do it; that I
should but only get me in the night to his Galley, which being ready to set sail,
to go and joyn with the Squadron of Corsica, should for my occasion take the
course of Sestra, where I should be received as in a place that depended on him,
and from thence I might easily go to Ligorne in a Tartana. This order was exactly observed, but before my departure I desired to confer with Doria in private;
I conjured him then to take a speciall care to send me news of Isabella, as often
as possibly he could; and that he should not fail to write me punctually even the
least things that concerned her. Doria promised to satisfie my desire all that he
might, and to forget nothing that he thought would content me; I intreated





him also to go from me to Isabella, for to give her my last farewell, and to receive her caommands to me, foreseeing well that Sinibaldo would make me depart as soon as it was night, without permitting me to go to Rhodolphoes. He so worthily acquitted himself of his commission, that Isabella had leasure to write me a large Letter, wherein she represented the necessity of my voyage so well unto me, and gave me such assurances of her affection, and of her fidelity, as I departed almost without grief, such an absolute power hath she ever had over my mind. I took my leave then of Sinibaldo, and of my father, and followed the order they had prescribed me; as soon as it wsa night I was conducted to the Galley in the habit of a simple souldier; and whereas the Captain was acquainted with the business, he made me enter into his Cabbin, from whence I came not forth till he had cast Anchor at Sestra, under pretext of taking in fresh-water. I was no sooner ashoar, but I went a delivered a Letter, which I had for teh Governour of that place, who presently provided me a Tartana, that carried me to Ligorn, where I was so fortunate as to encounter a vessell ready to set sail for Cap d' Istria; there I quitted the sea to cross through the Country of the Grisons, and having put my self in a fitting Equipage in a reasonable good Town, vvhere I stayed certain dayes, I past into Germanie, where the Emperour Charles the fifth was then employed in the War against the Protestants. I speak of all these things to thy Highness, without further clearing them unto thee, knowing
well enough, contrary to the custom of the Othomans, thou understandest the
Universall History; that there are no people so far distant, of whose Religion, Interests, Warres, and the least particularities of their Countrey thou art ignorant; nor any Prince whose Exploits or Designes are unknown to thee. To
conclude, my Lord, I can tell by long experience, that thy Greatness hath extraordinary lights for all that may be comprehended by a humane spirit; and
it is out of this knowledge, that I have have not explaned my self more at large
in many places of my narration, which certainly are not intelligible in all the extent of thy Empire, but which cannot be ignored by the most knowing, the most
mighty, and the most victorious Monarch of the World.  Soliman, not able
longer to endure these praises, given him by Ibrahim, sayd unto him smiling,
that hee had not permitted him to speak, but onely of his Adventures, and
that to obey him exactly, he was to pursue his discourse without flattering him.
The Bassa, returning no other answer, but a low obeysance, continued the course
of his History in this sort: I came then my Lord, to the Emperor of the Christians,
vvho received me, I dare say, with joy and kindness; he remembred still the services
I had him, and in consideration thereof vvould have given me imployment
in his Army: But whereas I was uncertain ofthe continuance of my voyage, and
was rather well assured, that if my business was dispatched at Genoua, I should
instantly be gone, I excused my self the best I could, and went and served amongst
the Voluntiers. I lived then after this manner without any other unquietness,
than what absence brings along with it, which though it be somewhat harsh to a
man that is passionately in love, yet tollerable t ome through the pleasure that
I had done in receiving Letters from Isabella: but I was not long in this condition; for three moneths after my departure I understood the death of Rhodolpho; I
knew that Julia and her daughter were at Monaco; and to take all comfort from me, my father wrote me, how that all the grace that could be obtained of the Senate, was the banishing of me for ever from all the Territories of the Republique, and that upon pain of losing my head if I were found in any part of them.
I received the news with so much angish of mind, as I thought I should have dyed wiih grief: but of all these things, that whereof I was most sensible, was the
affliction of Isabella, which I saw so well described in a Letter that she wrote me,
as I forgot mine own misfortune to lament hers. I knew the sorrow she was in for
her faher; I knew the haughty humor of Julia; I knew that my banishment destroyed all our hopes; and even then I found her tears so just, and mine flowing in
such abundance, as there was no room left to obey the commandment she had layd


ing to Monaco, till I heard from
her; but at length, after I had a while deferred writing unto her, I sent her word
that I would alwaies very exactly follow her directions; that I besought her for
all that to consider, how I could not do better, seeing she could not dispose of her
self, than to come to Monaco, where, without fearing the violence of our enemies,
we might live and rest in safety; that the Spinolaes were not powerfull enough to
raise an Army for to set upon us there, and that the Republique would not of a
particular interest make a generall caus ; that for the rest, time, it may be, would
change the order of things; that sometimes sentences had been revoked less unjust
than that which banished me, and for men that were not of the family of the
Justinianoes, and that peradventure were not more profitable for the publique
good: In the end I did all that I could to obtain permission to come unto her; I
wrote also unto Julia, with so much resentment of that loss, which was more considerable to me, than it was grievous unto her. As for my father, I sent him word
that I would buy out my liberty with my blood, being resolved to perform such
brave things in the Wars, as my Judges, and mine enemies themselves should wish
to see me again; but that for the executing of so noble a design, he was to permit me first to go and mary Isabella at Monaco; and that if my life were dear unto
him, I prayed him to sollicite Julia, when her tears were dryed up, to accomplish
Rhodolphoes promise. For Doria, I conjured him again to be carefull in curiously
informing himself whether Isabellaes mind were as firm in this incounter as she
had made me hope it would be; for I well foresaw, that Julia, who, notwithstanding our reconciliation, had never loved me, would bring some obstacle to my design. After I had dispatched away my pacquet, I remained in so extraordinary
an unquietness, that I could not settle my mind on any object, but such, as being
ingenious to persecute me, offered every minute to my thoughts the image of a
new misfortune; but how intentive soever it was, I could not foresee that which
arrived unto me. As I was in this deplorable estate, I understood by a Letter from
Doria, that my father being infinitely afflicted for my banishment, was dead of a
Feaver, the very same day that he wrote this to me; and that to secure his estate
unto me, he had past it over to the Count of Lauagna, who questionless would conserve it faithfully for me. I must confess, my Lord, that the loss so shaked my constancy, as it was ready to fail, and I proved in this occasion, that the apprehensions of Nature are more powerfull than all others; and to leave no place for
me to doubt of it, I had almost forgot Isabella in this my first transport; but after that reason had combated with grief, and that I was able to look upon my distemper with a Calmer eye, I found it yet far greater than at first I had believed it
to be: I saw all at once, both the loss of my Father, and that too of my Mistris;
no way doubting but that it would be hard for me to carry Julia to that I desired,
there being no body now that had any interest to make her keep her word. Certain daies after this sad news I received onely a ticket from Isabella, wherein contrary to her custom I perceived some confusion, with an absolute command not
to hazard my self as yet to come to Monaco, because her mother had told her, that
having much wealth in Genoua, she would give some order to her affairs, for fear
of losing it, if she should so soon receive me into her State and alliance; after this
she made me a protestation of fidelity, but in such tearms, as made me judge that
she had not expressed all her thoughts: Yet was it not this ticket, that begot my
dispair and my fury; a Letter from Doria, which I had received the same way,
cleared this ænigma most cruelly for me; by it I learned, that the Prince of Masseran, whose state is situate between Piedmont, Montserrat, and the Millanese, being
imbarqued at Villa-Franca to pass unto Naples, where he had means, and business,
had been caught by so furious a tempest three Leagues from the Port, that all the
Pilots skill could not keep him from suffering shipwrack before Monaco, where
this Prince had been so fortunate as to save himself by leaping into the boat, just
at the same instant when as his vessell was beaten to peeces against the point of a
Rock: It told me further, that this Prince having gotten to some houses vvhich





were on the sea-shore, had sent to demand permission of the Princess, that he
might stay a while in that place, for to gather together as much as he could of
the remains of his vessell, which was not sunck, and whose men for the most part
had escaped with swimming, or by the assistance of a Barque, that by chance was
then near unto them.  Moreover Doria advertised me, that Julia had received him
magnificently; that not long after it was bruted in Genoua, how that Prince vvas
become inamored of Isabella; and how the very same day that he wrote me this,
he was told that he had put himself into mourning for to please the Princess.  All
this troubled me not so much as Doriaes conclusion, how that the Letter he had sent
me from Isabella, had been delivered to him by an extraordinary way, and how
by a note which she had written unto him, she ordained him to send her no more
Letters till such time as he had a new order from her. I no sooner read this displeasing circumstance, but my mind was possest with so much fury, as I was no
longer capable of reason; I found my self seized at once, with love, jealousie, anger, grief, and revenge: I would at one instant reproach Doria, complain of the infidelity of Isabella, revenge my self of the treason of Julia, and punish the temerity
of my Rivall. Amidst the divers passions wherewith my soul was agitated, I framed an hundred designs, whereof the execution was impossible; but after I had
disputed with my self, I resolved to go in person to Isabella, and demand a reason of her, why she had not acquainted me with her new conquest; for in the end,
said I, I will have the satisfaction to adore her innocent, or to hate her guilty.
But as the body and the mind are so straitly allyed together, that the one cannot
suffer without the other, I fell sick the very same day I was to depart, and so violenty, as the Emperors Physicians, who by his order visited me every day, were out
of hope of saving me; and verily had I not had a spark of hope remaining, that
Isabella was not inconstant, I had refused all the remedies vvhich vvere given me,
and that were powerfull enough to recover me throughly.  But as is the health of
the body had not been bestowed on me, but for the better supporting the evills of
the mind, I received my deaths wound by a Letter from Doria, which gave me to understand, that Isabella had maried the Prince ofMasseran, and that to put it out of all
doubt, he had learned it from Felicianaes own mputh, who not enduring her
Mistresses infidelity, without shewing her resentment thereof, had been turned
away out of the Princesses service; he vvrote me also, that since the last Pacquet which he sent me, he never had received any news from that inconstant one; that
Julia had made a journy to Genoua a little before that unlucky wedding,without her
daughter in her company, where she had publiihed that that mariage should suddainly be solemnised; that having been advertised of it, he had gone to her for to demand
of her,  whether she would dishonor her self in rendring so little respect to the
ashes of her dead husband, as to fail the promise which he had made me? That her
daughter was no longer hers, seeing I had bought her with my blood, and the life
of Rhodolpho; that it was a payment, and not a grace, which he required of her; and
that at last he was resolved to carry things to extremity rather than indure to have
this injustice done me; that to all this she had answered peremptorily, how her
daughter should never mary a man that was banished from his Country, and that
if I would have promise kept with me, I should come and solicit the performance
of it at Genoua; and that after she had said so, how she had left him, and would not
hear him speak a word more. I leave it to thy Highness to imagine the deplorable
estate, whereinto this adventure put me, it was so strange, that all my passions reducing themselves into one, I had nothing but fury remaining;  and despair so
fully seized upon my soul, as I thought no longer of revenging my self of Julia,
nor resenting the outrage which I had received from the Prince of Masseran, nor
of punishing the infidelity of Isabella, but my design was wholly then to make away self, and to exercise upon mine person all the cruelty which the crimes of others had deserved. This deadly thought was so deeply setled in my heart, as if my
Religion had not with-held me, I had killed my self; but at length I resolved to
go and die like a man of courage, and in a place where I should never hear Isabella

named, and where Doria should not find me: I concluded then to pass into Swethland, whose King was at that time in War vvith the Done, vvith a purpose to expose
my self to so many perils, as I might dye nobly in some one of them; resolving yet
further, that is fortune should work a prodigie in preserving me, to go and confine
my self into the horrid deserts of Finland. I stole away then secretly, and without
taking leave of the Emperor I imbarqued my self upon the Baltique Sea, where
I had not been three daies, but they of the Vessell, wherein I was, discovered the
Fleet of that valiant King of Algier, Chairadin Barbarossa, whom a dreadfull tempest had driven into that Sea. This incounter gave me as much joy, as it caused
fear in them with vvhom I vvas; for I verily believed that I should soon set a period to my paines, by finding on the Sea that, which I went seeking for on the land:
And whereas I perfectly spake the German tongue, I represented unto them, that
since there was nothing left to our choice, but death, or slaverie, being not able
to fly, for that the wind vvas contrary to us, it vvas better generously to resolve for
the first, than to submit our selves to the other; that the loss of liberty being more
grievous and shamesfull, than that of life, they were at the least to sell it dearly: In the
end, my Lord, I animated them in such sort, as against all apparence they resolved,
not onely to fight, but to goe and boord the first vessell that should advance. This
resolution was no sooner taken, but Chairadin loosed two of his Fleet to come
up unto us; when they were within cannon shot we discharged one against another
vvithout much effect, but suddainly they separated themselves to inclose us, which
observed by us we vvould have retired, but the swiftest of the tvvo having fetched
us up, I presently boorded her; it was there, my Lord, that I sought against my
own good fortune, and that I laboured to lose a life, vvhich thou hast rendred
precious unto me, in preserving it since by a goodness that never had example,
and which thy power hath made happy in despight of the malice of my destinie:
I did then, my Lord, all that I could in this occasion to deprive me of the honor
of being thy Highnes creature; but fortune, being resolved to save me, was adverse
to us, for to be favourable to me; for Chairadin, whon was unwilling to have this
victory cost him dear, and that saw well how we fought like desperate men,
advanced with all his Fleet: As soon as those of our Vessell perceived it, their
weapons fell out of their hand, and I was he alone that did not render my self,
though it be true, that I left not for all that to have the same fate, for having been
wounded in four places, the loss of blood weakned me in such sort, as I fell down
like one dead on the hatches; my swooning lasted so long, that I came not to my
self again till I had been carried to another Vessell, where all the hurt men were
laid; there I was drest amongst the rest, and intreated after the same manner, untill
we came to Algier, where soon after I was sold to the Bassa Sinan, together with
three hundred others, which were destined to thy Highness; and so within a few
dayes we were imbarqued for Constantinople, where I had the honor to be made thy
slave, and to wear chaines, which have been more glorious to me, than the possession of an Empire, and which I would alwaies prefer before liberty. After this, my
Lord, I have nothing else to say unto thy Highness concerning that which regards the rest of my fortune, seeing it is the work of thy hands, and that I could
not bring it again to thy remembrance without offending thy modesty, knowing
well enough by experience, that the image of thine own vertues makes thee cast
down thy lookes, and change colour: I will not tell thee then by what meanes
thou hast drawn me out of irons for to raise me up to the greatest commands of
thy Empire, but I will onely say, that in the midst of this pomp, and of this glory,
I am in one day become the most wretched of men; and not to keep thy Majesty
any longer in suspence, may it please thee to know, that the generous slave, to
whom thy Highness hath given his life, is the same Doria, whom thou hast heard
so often mentioned in my adventures, that dear confident of my loves, and the most
faithfull of my friends; Soliman, having interrupted him, demanded, whether he
had not set him at liberty; but Ibrahim answered, that he alone could give it him,
and that because he would doe nothing of his own private authority, after he had



talked with him a little, he had returned him to the Bassa ofthe Sea, intreating
him to use him kindly till such time as he heard further from him, not knowing
whether his Highness did intend to grant him his full liberty. The Sultan then
commanded him to break his chains forthwith, and to prosecute his discourse.
Ibrahim would have fallen on his knees to have thanked Soliman for that grace,
but he not suffering him injoyned him once again to satifie his desire;
and therefore exactly to obey him, the Bassa continued in this sort. The
triumph being finished, I was no sooner in my Palace, but I shut up my self in my
Cabinet with that dear Slave; I will not tell thee, my Lord, the taking that Doria
and I were in, since it is a thing that may be more easily imagined than spoken:
Doriaes amazement was so great to see me alive, to find me in the habit which I
wear, and to observe me in the rank which I hold, as his reason above an hundred
times gave his eyes the lie: As for me, I was no less surprised to see him at Constantinople, and to imbrace him in the habit of a Slave, than he was to behold me
with a Turbant. Our first motions of joy being over, I confess, my Lord, that my
first thought was for Isabella; well now, said I unto him, my dear Doria, hath the
Prince of Masseran triumphed over all my hopes, and hath he rendred himself
possessor of an happiness which he did not deserve, and which I thought I had
been Master of? I had not so soon made an end of speaking, when as Doria fell to
demand pardon of me, to accuse himself of too much precipitation, to commend
the constancy of Isabella, and to blame my despair; but because this discourse was
obscure, I requested him to clear it unto me: Whereupon he told ma, that Julia
was no longer amongst the number of the living that the Prince of Masseran was
dead, and that Isabella was never his wife; but to particularize this unexpected
event, thou mayest be pleased to understand, that as soon as Julia perceived the
Prince of Masserans love to Isabella, she resolved, seeing the authority wholly in
her self by the death of her husband, to make that secret hatred she had alwayes
born me to flash out; whereunto also may be added, that this woman being ambitious, it may be the Title of a Soveraign blinded her, and carried her to that cruell design of destroying all our pleasures; to attain the more easily thereunto, she
thought it would be fit utterly to break off our commerce, which was not very
hard for her to do, for Monaco is seated on the height of a great Mountain, almost
inaccessible on the three sides; the other which looks to the Sea is so steep, as one
cannot behold it without horror; there rests then but one winding way which
leadeth to the Port, so that whereas this Town hath but one onely avenue, and
hath alwayes a Garrison in it, it was easie for her to keep the Princess from receiving any intelligence from me, or giving me any; without doubt it was the fear
of this rigorous proceeding that obliged the Princess to write unto Doria to
send her no more Letters. In the meantime Julia said openly to all the world, that the Prince of Masseran was going to marry Isabella; and whereas the Princess suffred her self to be seen of no body, so no body was aware of the deceit; for I have been informed by Doria, that as soon as she observed the passion which she had begot in the Prince of Masseran, and that she perceived how her mother would force her to this unjust marriage, she feigned her self sick, to the end she might with the more civility decline the visits of this new Lover, who divers times was upon the point of renouncing his pretensions through the rigors of Isabella; but Julia assured him so effectually, that she would vanquish her obstinacy, provided he would be ruled by her, as he resolved to yeeld her a blind obedience. He went then to Genoua by her counsell in that manner, which the Grandees of Italie do often make use of, whenas they travell, and which they call Incognito. This custom permits them to live as they will, and dispenseth others from rendring them the honors which are due to their quality; it was then in this sort that the Prince of Masseran was at Genoua, to the end, that being freed from receiving, or rendring the ceremony of visits, he might only make some believe, that he was the husband of Isabella, not in precisely saying that he had maried her, but in giving way for them to think so, that spake to him of his abode at Monaco: For that design of



Julia was to perswade every one that this mariage was accomplished, to the end
that is I were advertised thereof, I might be capable of some extreme resolution,
either upon mine own person, or on that of the Princes, or on hers, which I could
not execute without going into a place where I should lose my head if I were
found there. This design was so well carried, that all they of Monaco beleeved
it themselves, and made others to beleeve it. This universall error, it may be, had
not for all that been fastned on Doria, if Julia had not taken a particular care to
make him beleeve what all the world beleeved; and indeed to speak the truth, no
body could have exempted himself from this imposture: For this woman, having
suborned Feliciana with gifts and great hopes, made a shew of chasing her away
with violence, and to make the matter be published the better, she sent her back
to Genoua, where she was no sooner come but she repaired to Doria all in tears. I
think thy Highness remembers, that this mayd had alwayes been Jsabellaesconfifident, thou wilt not find it strange then if Doria did not doubt of her discourse,
when the assured him with a feigned sorrow, that the Prince of Masseran having maried the Princess with her own consent, and not being able to forbear
telling her of the promises vvhich shee had made to mee, she had been ill-intreated both by the Mother and the Daughter, vvho had driven her away outragiously. It vvas by this artifice, my Lord, that Doria was deceived; and whereas this newes troubled him, and possest him with fury, he
wrote it unto me as soon as he heard it, as I have already declared unto thy
Highness. But this man, whose high and generous spirit makes the interests of
his friends more sensible to him than his own, understanding that the Prince of
Masseran was at Genoua, resolved to punish him, and revenge me; and for this effect he carefully informed himself of the place where most commonly he was, but
fortune, that intermeddles with all things, favoured his enterprise, by leting him
know, that the day following he was to go and see the stately Palace of Andrea
Doria his near Kinsman, and whereas it was out of the City, he judged this opportunity too advantagious to be neglected, imagining rightly that he would go
thither with little company, since, as I have before delivered, he was at Genoua
unknown. The matter failed not to fall out even as he had conceived it; for he
was advertised that the Prince of Masseran was in this walk attended but with
two of his servants; he went forth then speedily with the like number, and overtaking him in a place where few persons could be witnesses of his action. As
soon as he was so near him, as he might speak to him, he asked him whether he
knew my name, and whether it were possible he should be ignorant that Isabella
could not lawfully be his, because she was mine? but since the thing was done, he
must at least render himself worthy of so noble a conquest by the loss of his life,
as I had bought it with my blood; in saying so they both drew out their swords,
and Doria without attending the Prince of Masserans answer, attacqued him so vigoriously, as he was constrained to give ground: They that accompanied him
would have opposed themselves to this fury, but they that followed Doria would
not suffer them so to do; and whereas they were equall in number, they began a
just combat, whereof the modesty of my friend kept him from telling me the particulars; but in the end, notwithttanding whatsoever the Prince of Masseran could
perform, the victory sided with reason, and Doria, after the receiving of a slight
hurt pressed his enemy with so much courage, as he ran him into the body in
four severall places, which made him fall down as if he were dead: A minute
after, Nature doing her last devoir, he opened his eyes, and seeing Doria coming
from parting their followers, and giving order to his help to carry him to
some place, he had yet so much strength, as to call him, and before he expired to
crave pardon for the outrage he had done me, and to pray me to consider the power of Isabellaes eyes for the excusing of his fault; moreover he conjured him to
tell me that the Princess had kept her faith inviolable to me; then he acquainted him
in few words with all the violences of her mother, with all the resistances which
shc had made thereunto, and at the last swore that he was not her husband, but that



Julia had used this artifice, in hope to make me away, as I have already told thy
Highness, not doubting but that if I were dead she should have carried her
daughter to all that she had desired. Scarcely had that infortunate Prince made an
end of speaking, but he dyed in Doriaes armes, who with sorrow remitted him into
the hands of his servants, to goe and provide for his own safety; so that without losing time, and before this combat was divulged, he sent to hire a Feluca, and
without returning into the City he imbarqued himself for Naples; for
in the uncertainty of the event of the combat he had brought mony enough
about him to mak his retreat into that place, and had left a letter in
his Cabinet; which instructed one of his friends with the order hee would
have taken in his affaires. He departed then safely away in this sort, but the
next day he incountred the Pirate Arsalon, and in the manner, which thy
Highness understood yesterday, he came to Constantinople. But my Lord, to make
all the rigor of my destiny known to thy Majesty, I am to tell thee further, that not
long since Doria hath met with a slave of Monaco, who hath related unto him, that
as sooon as Julia knew of the death of the Prince of Masseran, anger and grief seized
so upon her, as she died therewith in a little time; so that Isabella, seeing she
was Mistress of her self, had sent a man into Germany to desire me to come and take
care of her State, and to receive her person for a reward of my fidelity: For she
knew nothing, either of my jealousie, or despair, which having carried me far enough from the place, whither she had sent to seek me, beguiled all her hopes, and
destroyed her felicity, by the fruiteless return of him she had imployed unto me;
since that she lived in a very austere and melancholick solitariness, saying openly,
that she was resolved to renounce the world, as soon as she knew, that I was no
longer in it. And whereas there ran a bruit in Genoua about a year ago, that I had
been seen in Naples, she dispatched away this man for to goe and see if it were so;
having made a vow, if his voyage proved vain, to shut herself in a Cloister for
all the rest of her life; but whereas fortune hath never done any but extraodinary
things in my adventures, she so wrought, that this man, putting himself into a
French Barque to pass over thither, was taken by a Pirate, whose vessells lay under
the covert of a Rock, which is near to a place by the Italians called Porto Hercoles.
And whereas he had a grat number of Slaves, he stayed not long from going to sell
them at one of the Islands of the Archipelago, from whence by divers accidents
this man came to Constantinople, where Doria by chance knew him, as having at
other times seen him in Rhodolphoes service. After all this, my Lord, it will not be
difficult for thy Highness to imagine the deplorable estate wherein I find my self by
thy bounty, and by the proposition which thou hast made me concerning the Sultana Asteria. I should not be so hardy as to speak to thee in these termes, if I did not
call to mind, that the charmes of the divine Roxelana have been of sufficient force
to vanquish the most victorious Monarch of the world; and that for this reason I
may hope to see thee sensible of my misfortune, to obtain pardon for my ingratitude, and to be heard in my justifications. It is true indeed, that to excuse my fault
I need no more than to beseech thy Highness to consider, that if I could even banish
from my heart the image of Isabella, forget her affection, her oathes, and her constancie; become the most ingratefull of men to his Princess; cause her death by my
change, which she would quickly know; prefer my Master before my mistress, and my duty before my love; the Religion I profess, prohibiting me the plurality of wives, which that of the Mahometans doth permit, I could not dispose of a faith, which I have already given, seeing I am a Christian under the habit of a Mussulman, although I be not believed to be so in all the extent of thy Empire: But whereas for all that it is not just that my temerity should be vanquished, deprive a man of thy favor, who refuseth an alliance, which a great King ought to receive on his knees: Banish from thy sight and Court a man, whom so many benefits, whom so many greatnesses, and to say all, whom thy affection cannot make perfectly happy; and to satisfie the Sultana Austeria, I am ready to reenter into the irons from whence she drew me, and to die her Slave, since I cannot live her husband: Or if thy Highness






will render my end more profitable and glorious, command me to seek out death
in the midst of thine enemies, aud I shall not be long without testifying by the loss
of my life, that I am not ingratefull, but because I cannot be acknowledging.
And to incense thy just wrath, I will say further, that the chastisement, which
I demand, will be instead of grace to me, since that in depriving me of light, I shall
no longer be sensible of all the misfortunes wherewith I am so heavily oppressed;
I shall cease to live, but I shall cease also from being rebellious to thy pleasure; I
shall restore the life which I ow to the incomparable Asteria; and I shall dye for
the glory of Isabella. In brief, my Lord, since I cannot be Asteriaes, because my
love doth oppose it, and my Religion doth forbid it; and since I cannot likewiie
live for Isabella, because my duty doth tie me to thy service, both by a generall
right, and by a particular obligation, death is the onely remedy that remains for
me to get out of so many miseries. If thy goodness had not broken off my setters
and that I were still thy slave, now when that I know that the constancy of Isabella
hath triumphed over the artifice of our enemies, that I reign still in her heart, and
that on me alone her felicity or her happiness doth depend, I would employ all
my endeavour to free me of my chains by a ransom: But, my Lord, I am tyed to
thee by stronger bonds; the obligations wherein I am ingaged to thy Highness, the
benefits which I have received from thee, the honours thou hast done me, and the
last degree of glory whereunto I am mounted, are too certain proofs of thy love,
and of thy considence, for me not to be retained in my duty: It is then by these
sacred bands that I am tyed unto thee, and which I cannot break witliout sacrilege. Finally, my Lord, the thoughts of liberty, which pass for a just desire in the
minds of all men, were an horrid crime in me; and I may well promise thy Highness, that I will never so much as dream of it: And as I am generous enough not
to doe any thing that may blemish my love, so am I yet more not to doe
anything that may wrong my duty. There is no need then of guards to keep
me from going out of thy Empire, being fully resolved to sacrifise all my
pleasures, rather than doe any thing unworthy of the name which I carry,
and the choice which thy Highness hath made of my person, for to be the first in
thy favour, as I am in thy Estates. But without further deferring pronounce the
sentence of death, so just, and so much wished for. Ibrahim having given over
speaking, Soliman rose up, fell to walking a great pace, and with his eyes fixed
on the ground continued in so deep a muse, as the Bassa doubted that he should
obtain the effect of his request; but he was not long in this uncertainty; for the
Sultan standing still, and beholding him in a manner that testified more grief
than anger, and more compassion than wrath, said unto him with all imaginable
kindness that he held himself infinitely unhappy, in that possessing so great an Empire, that being so victorious and triumphant, and that being able to give felicity to so many people, yet could not render the onely man whom he could love, happy. Upon this so obliging a disconrse, Jbrahim would have fallen on his knees,
but he would not suffer him, saying unto him, that he would fein have obtained
so much resolution of himself, as to part for ever from a man, who was so dear unto
him; that he had debated the same in his mind, when as he walked in that manner,
as he saw; but that at last the affection which he bore him had surmounted his generosity, and that it was impossiblc for him to resolve on so grievous a separation;
that he conjured him to excuse the effects of his friendship, as he excused those of
his love; and to testifie unto him, that as well as himself he did all that he could, he
would permit him to goe and see Jsabella, provided he would pass his word unto
him to return again within six monthes; with this promise also, that is during his
absence he could accustom himself to this privation, he would give him his liberty
wholly and intirely. The Bassa was so surprised, and so transported with joy, as
having cast himself at the feet of the Sultan, he was a good while without speaking, but at length, after he had recovered the use of his tongue, he rendred him
thanks for so notable a favor,and told him, that none but Soliman could vanquish Soliman; that this victory which he had gotten over himself, was so glorious to him,





as all that he had done till then, was nothing in comparison of it; that battailes were
gained by the valour of Captains and Souldiers, but in this occasion he owed this victory to none but his own proper vertue. As for the rest, if he would permit him
to go to Monaco, he would ingage his faith to render himself at Constantinople within the time that he had prescribed; and that he was not to fear that he would break
his word with his Highness, since he would keep it with his very enemies. After this
assurance, the Sultan told him, that he did not doubt of it, but that which obliged
him to require an oath of him fot it, was the knowledge that he had of the force of
the passion which reigned in his heart; and that his friendship would be secured against this enemy of its content. Jbrahim swore then solemnly, that nothing but
death alone should keep him from accomplishing his promise. That done, Soliman
told him, that he would not have consented to his voyage, knowing that his affairs
were not composed at Genoua, had he not had the means to have the sentence
revoked, which had been given against him. And when as Jbrahim besought
him to to let him understand, how he thought to perform so unexpected a
a thing, the Sultan told him, that to comprehend his design, he was but to
remember, how one of his Chaoux, returning out of France,  and staying at Genoua, had been murthered in the streetes by a popular commotion; so that
having been advertised thereof by one of them that accompanied him, who
instantly imbarqued himself away, he had caused all the Vessells of the Genoueses, that
were found in his Ports, to be arrested; and that for the better favouring of his design, an Ambassador was the day before arrived from his Republique,  whom he
had caused to be put in prison at Pera, being perswaded that he had done nothing
unworthy himself therein, since the Genoueses had first violated the Law of Nations in the person of his Chaoux; how it was for to comnmnicate this affair unto him
that he had sent for him in the morning, but the sadness which he had observed in
his countenance, had hindred him from it, and carried him into another discourse.
The Bassa then cast himself at the feet of the Sultan, to assure him, that he would
never establish his content on the ruines of his Country. Soliman told him, that his
generosity would not contradict his intention, and that so favourable an occasion
might not be lost, he would send back this Ambassador with all the Vessells
which he had caused to be stayed, for to redeem his liberty, and that of Doria, who
had suffred so much for him.  That he would write a letter to his Republique,
which should be conceived in such express tearmes, as they would without doubt
be inforced by fear to accord him more difficult thinges, than those which he desired of them; besides that, giving them back the life of their Ambassador, and returning them so great a number of the richest, and most pretious commodities of the Levant, they would be yet far more indebted unto him; But in the end he was glad,
that the blood of one of his servants might at least serve to restore Ibrahim to his
Country. The matter being thus resolved, Soliman commanded the Bassa to go and
deliver Doria, and the Slave of Monaco, and not speak of this design, for he would have no inckling of the matter; but for the better concealing of it, he ordered him to say, that he was going upon a secret expedition, to the end they should not mervail if they saw him no longer at the Port. After this Jbrahim withdrew himself for to give order to his affaires; and although the pasing of his word for his return begot some melancholick thoughts in him, yet joy held the Empire of his soul, and the onely imagination of seeing Jsabella against dissipated all his heaviness. At last his passion was so strong, that if he had been even sure to die, as soon he came at her, yet would he not fo all that have left to goe. He returned then to the Palace, followed by those multitude of Courtiers, whom the favor of Kings renders inseparable with them which possess it.IBRAHIM, OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The First Part.The Third Book.THe grand Visier was no sooner at home, but he sent the command ofthe Grand Signior to the Bassa of the Sea, to return
him the Slave, with whom he had talked the day before; but
as he was generous and liberall, he caused twelve Watches,
the fairest that ever had been found in all the shops of Constantinople to be carried unto him; for besides the difference
of the inventions of them, their cases were so marvellous, as
the Emeraulds, Rubies, and Diamonds, made up the least
part of their beauty, the art far surpassing the matter: And
whereas this curiosity is the greatest with persons of quality amongst the Turks,
having met with an hundred of them in a certain shop, Ibrahim could not choose
any thing that was more gallant, more beautifull, or more agreeable to him, who
was to receive them; but to render this present yet more magnificent, he put these
twelve Watches into a little coffer of Nacre, garnished with Gold and Turqueises,
and sent them unto him by six Slaves: As for that of Monaco, because he was not a
man of any great quality, he sent him a thousand Sultanins for his ransom. After
which he shut himself up in a lodging apart, that was a good way from his own,
which was too much frequented with people, there to receive Doria at more liberty:
The Palace of the Bassa of the Sea was not far from Ibrahims, so that it was not
long before they brought him his dearest Doria, to whom that Bassa in requitall of
that gallantry which had been used towards him, had in exchange of his fetters
given him a chain of Diamonds. It was in this interview, that these two friends
felt all those joyes and pleasing raptures, which true friendship causeth in the soules
of two persons, who for so many years had been in despair of ever seeing one another; their hearts were at one instant so replenished with pleasure and admiration, as not able to express together their amazement and their joy, they remained
a good while embracing one another, without the ability to speak; but at length,
Ibrahims passion being the stronger, it obliged him to open their first discourse by
Isabella, in calling Doria his Preserver, in giving him thinks for exposing his life
to deliver her, and revenge him; and craving pardon of him for the pains he had
suffered in his captivity, as counting himself the innocent cause thereof. Doria
answered to all those things with as much kindness as could be; but whereas love
is more powerfull than friendship, and as this passion reigns imperiously over all
the rest, Ibrahim returned still to Monaco, he would have Doria particularize again
that which he had already told him the day before; he demanded of him whether




it were true indeed that the Princess loved him still? He would know of him, whether the Prince of Masseran was an handsome man? And as if his friend could have
divined what was done over all the earth, he conjured him to tell him, whether
he did not believe that Isabella would be turned Nun when they should arrive at 
Genoua? In the end, after he had asked an hundred questions, whereunto Doria had no leisure to answer, he perceived his error, and desired him to pardon him for it
with so much earnestness, as he could not choose but smile at it. But amidst all
these mutuall caresses,there were some moments wherein Doria was surprized with
marvell, and whenas reason began to repossess its place in the mind of Ibrahim, he
was aware of it; and seeing his eyes fattened on his habit, he easily apprehended,
that he did not express all his thought; wherefore not to leave him any longer in
this uncertainty, he said unto him, that for the renewing of their friendship in as
strait a manner as formerly it had been, it was fit to tell him in few words, that
he was still Justiniano under the name of Ibrahim, and that although he were the
servant of Soliman, yet was he for all that the enemy of Mahomet; that he desired
him therefore not to suspect him lightly, since he could not do so without wronging him; that is he had not been too much pressed by the affairs which he vvas to communicate unto him, and which required speed, he would have recounted to
him, even at that very instant, the wonderfull progress of his fortune, but he would
do that at leisure whilst they vvere in their voyage together; that in the mean
time he should firmly believe hovv nothing was able to shake his faith, and that he
would live and die in the Religion of his Fathers.  Upon this discourse Doria
confessed unto him ingenuously, that he had been strangely surprized vvith finding
him Grand Visier, and the Sultans Lieutenant-Generall throughout all the extent
of his Empire, since to be that and a Christian seemed to be tvvo things incompatible; but in regard of that vvhich he had told him, he vvould aftervvards forbid
his reason to judge any more upon apparances: Hovv it vvas notvvithstanding true,
that he had believed that he vvas not absolutely culpable, but hovv it vvas certain
also, that being unable to concive this adventure, he had been troubled to think
in what terms he should dare to inform and clear himself therein. Ibrahim answered, that he would easily forgive him this injury, seeing he himself could not
in a manner conceive by what means, or by what wayes fortune had conducted
him to the point wherein he then was: That in the mean space not to lose time,
which was to be so precious unto him, it was fit he should tell him, that Soliman
had been so good as to permit him to go and see Isabella; and that he might do it
with glory and safety, the Sultan had found out an undoubted expedient to cause
the Sentences which had been pronounced against them, to be revoked. But
whereas Doria could not easily believe that which he heard, Ibrahim recounted every thing unto him from point to point, just as it had been resolved in the Sultans
Cabinet; but he did not discover unto him, that he had ingaged his word for his
return within six moneths, for fear he should be afflicted at it; for as for his fidelity he no way misdoubted it.  Doria finding that he purposed to return out of
hand to Genoua, told him, that he had lost a very affectionate friend in the person
of Sinibaldo, who was dead of sickness, as the Slave of Monaco had informed him,
but that he had left a sonne behind him, the heir of all his vertues and one that
promised great matters. Is he not called Giovanni Lodovico, replied Ibrahim, after
he had bemoaned the death of Sinibaldo? Yes, said Doria, and he was not above a dozen years old when you went away, and yet then there was great hope of him. Hereupon one brought Ibrahim word, that the Slave of Monaco was come, which made Doria represent unto him, that being to return to Genoua, he held it not fit that this Slave should see him in the habit he wore, because he could not possibly forbear publishing of it, which might prejudice him much, or at leastwise oblige him to make a publick manifestation of his adventures. Ibrahim agreed with him therein, so that he charged him, who brought him that message, to carry this Slave to the quarter where the Officers of his house were lodged, which was a great way off from his own, with order to use him well, and not to let him go



out of his chamber without his express command. That done, he turned himself to Doria, and desired him to work in such sort, as he might have the Letter
which the Princess had wrote to him by this man, to the end he might be assured
of her fidelity. Doria told him that the matter was not very difficult, and
that to oblige him to deliver it, he need but let him know, hovv he was
still alive;  and  because also hee vvas to see him during their Voyage, it
was requisite to tell him, that hee had been a slave as well as they, and
freed in the same manner, that he might not be surprised when he should see him abord the vessell. Ibrahim approved of this counsell of his friend, and prayed him
to go instantly and labour to bring him that preticus treasure, which was able to
make him happy. Doria condiscending thereunto, the Bassa caused him to be conducted by four slaves to the place where that of Monaco was, who a good while
would not part with Isabellaes Letter, till he saw Justiniano, because he could not
beleeve, that a man whom he had gone to seek for at Naples, should be at Constannople; but Doria swore so seriously unto him, that Justiniano was alive, and that
he should see him within a few daies, as at length, knowing him to be a man of
great quality, and Justinianoes friend, he suffered himself to be perswaded, and delivered him Isabellaes Letter, which he had with much ado preserved all the time
of his captivity; presently whereupon Doria returned to Ibrahim, who attended
him with extreme impatience; as soon as he perceived him, and that they which
conducted him were retired, he lovingly imbraced him, and conjured him no
longer to defer his happiness, but Doria without answering him rendred him that
precious gage of Isabellaes sidelity, which possesscd our Illustrious Bassa with such
joy, that he could hardly obtain so much tranquillity from his mind, as to read this
Letter: But at last, after he had kissed it with transports that cannot be imagined but
by those who know the force of this noble passion, which reigned in his heart, he
opened it, and saw that it was thus.
The Letter of Isabella Princess of Monaco to Iustiniano.SInce it is not enough for the felicity of Isabella to know that you are living, but that
she must also know whether she still liveth in your memory, I have sent the Lieutenant of my Guard to inform himself thereof, and to clear it unto me, to the end that by
his return, and by his answer, I may regulate the rest of my dayes, conserve my self for
you if you be faithfull, or punish my self for loving you if you be faulty; being fully resolved, if you live no longer for me, to live no longer for the World, and to deprive my
self for ever of it, as soon as you shall have deprived me of the hope of seeing you again.
I do not undertake to paint forth all the miseries which I have suffered by the persecutions of my Lovers, and of mine Enemies, by my Parents, and by your absence; since if it
be true, that it hath been able to destroy in your soul a love which ought to last eternally,
it would but adde more to my confusion, and to your crime; raise up a trophy my self for
mine Enemy; follow voluntarily the Chariot of the Conqueror; and serve for an ornament
to the triumph of some stranger, who it may be hath vanquished you. But if nevertheless it should happen that my fear and suspitions should render me faulty towards you; that
you should be alwaies Justiniano, as I am alwayes Isabella; that this so noble, and so
pure a passion, which I had given a being unto in your soul, should reign there still, as it doth
still reign in mine; I durst beseech you, if Monaco seem too weak to defend you, or too
near to Genoua to live there in quiet, to let me understand in what place of the earth
you will have us live together; for in fine I shall alwaies quit my State without regret
for to conserve unto my self the Empire which you have given me over your heart. Let
me know then what I am to expect from my fortune, with a promise, if it be so that I
have no longer a place m your remembrance, never to murmur more at my misfortune, but
accuse my defects for your change, and since I cannot live for you, never to be any bodies, but to dye in a Cloyster. This is all the grant which is demanded of you byYour ISABELLA.Hardly could Ibrahim retain his teares in reading Isabellaes letter, which had
made him change colour more than once, according as it was either more or less
obliging; and as jealousie and fear are undoubted markes of strong affection,
that which the Princess testified unto him gave him at one instant both grief and
joy; he was grieved that Isabella should suspect him of infidelity, he was not sorry
that she was affraid to lose him; and as is he had not read it weil, he began to run
it over again, and after he had made an end of reading it, he looked on all sides of
the paper, to see if nothing else were there written:  He read the superscription of
it, he considered it even to the very seal; and in the end bethought he should have
committed a crime if he had lost so much as one sillable of that pretious pledge
of Isabellaes love. This letter so mightily increased his flame, that his unquietness
grew to be half so much more than it was. The discourse of the Princess seemed
so pressing unto him, as he began to fear in good earnest, lest she should take some
extreme resolution before he could get to Monaco; he concluded therefore to forward the matter as much as he could, and for a beginning he left Doria, after he
had caused bookes to be given him to entertain the time withall, and commanded
some of his servants to wait near unto him for to serve him; the rest of the day
he bestowed in giving order for all things necessary for his voyage; he commanded
a Christian Slave, in whom he much confided, to cause an habit after the Italian
fashion to be secretly made, and gave him more money than need, both to pay for
it, and to procure the fidelity of the Jewes, who should sell it unto him; for it is
from those kinde of men, that the great diversity of Nations which people Constantinople and Pera, are furnished with all things necessary for them, be it household-stuffe, apparell, or jewells. That done, he caused the principall Officers of his
house to be called unto him, and having told them, that theGrand Signior sent
him upon a secret expedition, from whence he should not return in six monthes,
he commanded them that during his absence they should obey, as himself, a man,
who was as it were the Steward of his house; and that they should cause all the rest
that depended on them, to obey him in like manner; he assigned meanes also for
the maintenance of his Train, as it used to be; and after he had promised them recompences if they continued in their duty, and chastisements if they did otherwise
he went to his dear Doria, and being somwhat late, they separated themselves; Ibrahim, not willing that his people should observe so strict a union betwixt them
got away to bed, after he had made a light supper, though he had eaten nothing
all the day before; As for Doria, he was served in private, but with a great deal of
magnificence. The next morning, according to the order he had received for it,
Ibrahim went to the Seraglio; and whereas he had a particular permission to come
thither at all times, whensoever he would, he went into the Sultans chamber, who
was not ready. Soliman, seeing him come in, said unto him, how he was glad to observe
in his countenance that the remedy, which he had found out for his grief, was
not in vain; but to make an end of healing him speedily he had commanded over night that the Ambassador of Genoua whom he had caused to be made a prisoner at Pera, should be brought unto him; the Sultan told him further, how he had given order, that the Ambassador should come without ceremony, because if the ordinary custom had been observed, Ibrahim then, as the chief Bassa, must have presented him, which he not thinking fit, for that so he would have known him, he chose rather to hold this course; besides also that sending to have him received at the gate of the City, and causing him to be presented with an horse, and roab of cloath of gold, according to the use, he ingaged himself consequently to give him publique audience, which he would not doe, to the end he might speak more openly to him concerning the matters he desired of him. The Sultan was no sooner ready, but he was advertised by a Capigibassa, who is one of the Captaines of the Port, that this Ambassador was arrived, whereupon he commanded, that a Bassa should go to receive, and bring him unto him; and that Ibrahim might hear what he said unto him he made him enter into his Cabinet. A little after this Ambassador appeared with a Turkish roab on, which had been given him without any ce-




remony at his departure from Pera; for it is the custom ofthe Sultan to receive no
Ambassadors but such as have one of them on, according to the manner of the Country. He was sustained under the arms by two Capigibassi; the Bassa that conducted
him, marched two paces before him to present him to the Sultan, who received him
with some civility: when as he had saluted the Grand Signior, he delivered the Letter
that the Republique had written to him,which Soliman gave unto a Dragoman, who
interpreted it unto him for forms sake only, for he understood it better than he. No
sooner had he done hearing him,but he caused the same Interpreter to tell the Ambassador, that the injury which he had received in the person of his Chaoux, was so
great, that is he had followed his just fury, his head had answered for that violence; how it was for that he had caused him to be arrested, but that he had since
changed his mind at the intercession of a Christian slave, who had been a sutor to
him for it, and that had found grace before his Highness; but that for returning him
back, as he was going to do, together with all the vessels which he had caused to be
stayed in his Ports, and for forgetting also the outrage that he had received from
his Republique, they were to accord him one thing, which he desired of them.
And when as the Ambassador had answered him, that the thing should be impossible if they did it not, he told him, how all that he would have was, that the Senate should revoke the Sentence which they had pronounced against Justiniano, and
that Doria should be no more troubled for the death of the Prince of Masseran; that
it was Justiniano to whom Genoua owed her safety, and to whom he was to render
thanks for his life; that he remitted both him and Doria to his conduct, for the
putting of that in execution which he desired; but that he should take good heed
they fayled not therein, because if that should happen, nothing should be able to
keep him from making War upon Genoua it self with all the forces of his Empire:
This Ambassador was so surprised with hearing the Sultan speak of Justiniano and
Doria, as it had divers times like to have made him forget the respect which he owed him, for to interrupt him, but at length after Soliman had given over speaking,
he answered him, that the thing he desired was so beneficiall to the Republique,
as his Highness need not fear to be refused; that the merit of those two excellent
men was so generally known, as the Senate had not obeyed the Laws but with grief,
and that doubtless they would be extremely joyfull of so just and specious a pretext to infringe them. After this Soliman dismissed him, and told him yet once
again, how he should remember, that in this occasion they were to satisfie him, or
to have him their enemy; howbeit he somewhat caressed him in bidding him fareè
well, and excused the not receiving him with all requisite Ceremonies for some
reasons which he might not tell him; that in the mean time he should prepare
himself for his departure, and that he should have his dispatch. When he was retired according to the custom, that is, without turning his back to the Sultan, Ibrahim came forth of the Cabinet, and cast himself at his feet, to give him thanks
for so many testimonies of the affection which he received every minute from his
Highness. But Soliman took him up, and told him, that eight years service well deserved that acknowledgment; that withall likewise in labouring for his good,
he should establish his own felicity, which would never be persested till he saw
him contented; that the impatience he was in for his departure, was occasioned
by the desire he had of his return, and that it might no longer be deferred, he
was to go and make an end of taking order for his affairs, and that immediately
after noon he should come and bid him adieu, and bring Doria with him. Ibrahim answered to all these things with as much generosity, as kindness; and for a
conclusion, he deeply protested never to think himself acquitted of the infinite
obligations wherein he was ingaged to his Highness, but in sacrifising his life for
his service. He would have proceeded further, but the Sultan interrupted him,
and once more commanded him to have no other thought than of going to see the
incomparable Isabella, and of giving life again to Soliman. After this the Grand
Visier durst not make any reply, but retired homewards to go unto his dear Doria whom he had not seen since the evening before, and he encountred him in the





Hipodrome, so intentive in observing the stately structure of his Palace, as the
Bassa was fain to speak to him before he would heed him, or be drawn out of so
sweet a contemplation: But when as Doria seemed to be unwilling to stir from
thence, till he had at leasure considered that Master-peece of Architecture, Ibrahim
told him he was contented he should, so as he stayd not long about it, for
that having goodlier things to shew him, and not having much time to spare,
they were to mannage so much as they had, till dinner was made ready, in letting
him see all the beauties of the Palace which he had caused to be built: That whereas he was skilfull in Painting, in Perspective, in Architecture, in rarities, and in
all parts of the Mathematicks, he should be glad to know, whether according to
his judgement all the rules of those fair Arts, and of those excellent Sciences, were
found to be observed there, as according to his they were. But first, sayd Doria to
him, I would fain know, how in so little a time you could make up a building,
which for its greatness, and for the magnificence of its strusture, would require
the whole life of a man, and the treasures of a great Prince. This last, replyed
Ibrahim, is the only necessary thing, for with it is done in a small time, what whole
Ages, and all the industry of man could not do without it; and both to answer
you, and to take from you the means of troubling me with new objections, I am to
let you know, that having a purpose to build this Palace, I easily found out a way to
do it, as well speedily, as magnificently: For disposing of all the Revenue of the
Empire, I could want nothing save Artisans to execute my design, but fortune sent
me them; for good luck would, that a great Architect, two Painters, and two
Sculptors, having put themselves in company together for to pass out of Italy into Spain, from whence they had been sent for to make a stately Palace for the Emperor, were taken by Pirates, who afterwards sold them here at Constantinople; and
whereas I have alwaies been very carefull to inform my self of places where any
Christian slaves were, that I might relieve them, I met with these same, knew
what they were, and employed them for two whole years together; after which I
sent them back in a vessell laden with riches. You have peradventure heard say,
that the Turks do not suffer the image of any living thing to be made, and that the
Alcoran seems to forbid it; but as in all Religions heresies do from time to time
arise, this same, which is composed of nothing but absurdities, hath not been wanting therein; for some remedy whereof they one day cast into the River of Adezelia, that runs by Damascus, two hundred Camels lading of Books of the different
opinions of their Religion, retaining but six of them, which since have produced
many others, whereof one maintains upon this Article, that the rest have misunderstood that passage, where their Prophet had no other meaning, but to forbid
them the worshiping the images of men, of beasts, and of plants, and not the making of them for the ornament of houses: And indeed this opinion hath been followed chiefly by the Grandees. The Seraglio hath its Galleries full of Masaique work, where are seen great store of interlaced foliage, and birds represented by suitable peeces of differing Marble. The Emperor Selim could paint himself, and he sent a Battel, drawn with his own hand, to the Venetians; and Soliman his son hath his Fathers Picture alwaies hanging by his bed-side; so that after such illustrious examples I have adorned this Palace, but with pictures and statues, wherein it may be you will find wherewith to satisfie the knowledge which you have in those excellent arts.
The description of Ibrahims Palace.WHilst the Bassa was talking in this sort, he and his friend came still nearer to the Gate; where Doria stayed to consider the superb front of a great Paviglion, which rose up into a Dome over the Gate, and that equally divided a long wall of white Marble, which made the inclosure of that great and marvailous fabrick. Doria could not sufficiently admire three orders of columns of different Marbles, which adorned that Portall, whereof the basis and capitall, were of Brass,



but wrought with so much art, that neither the Greeks nor the Romans have ever
shewed any fairer; some were wreathed, some fluted, and others so artificially
twined about with fillets, as they seemed to press down the foliage, wherewith it was
inriched; over the Corniches and Frizes of half relieve, which were garnished with
leaves of Acanthes, were nothing but Chaplets of Triumph, Cornucopiaes, and
Trophies ofArms. Finally, the magnificence of the Palace was so great, that the very
gates of it were of Ebony, with mouldings so curiously proportioned, as the great
silver nails wherewith they were studded all over, made the least part of their beauty.
Doria was not yet resolved to quit so rare an object, had not the Bassa forced
him to enter, that he might observe the Vaulting which sustained the Paviglion,
whose key-stone was an Onix of a prodigious bigness, and whereof the Artist had
so well contrived all the colours, and made such use of them, as he had thereof
formed a Coronet of flowers, so admirably well done, that it beguiled the sight:
The rest of the Vaulting was all of white Marble, the better to set off so fair a
work, but so well joyned and polished, as it seemed to be made of one entire stone.
After he had sufficiently considered so rare a thing, Ibrahim caused Doria to observe,
that opposite to the Paviglion, which he so much admired, was another just like
unto it; but before he went further Doria stayed to consider a great low covered
Gallery which compassed the Court about, and whereof the roof served for a Terrace, with a rail and ballister of a leaning height; it was sustained with pillars
of white and red Marble, and paved as the Court with white and black. But
whereas Ibrahim knew that there was somewhat yet more marvellous to be seen,
he  made his dear Doria to pass along under the second Paviglion, and although
the vaulting of it was fairer than the other that he had already seen, yet did he not
make any stay there, so much was he ravished with the magnificent Fore-front
of Ibrahims Palace, which wholly discovered it self from thence; and truly
I must confess, that he had reason so to be, since all that art and materialls can
contribute to the beauty of a work, was eminently found in this same. There appeared a great Building that took up the whole bredth of the Court, which was
retrenched some thirty paces from the House by a Ballustrade of Jasper and Porphirie, and raised on the Palace-side the height of four steps, which formed in the
middle an half pace of the same matter. The pavement of this Court was gray
and white Marble, and in the midst of it was a Fountain, whereof the bole was of
Orientall Alablaster, transparant as Christall, and six foot Diameter, born up by a
pillar of divers-coloured Marble; the outside ofthe bole was inriched with
little Sea-Monsters of half relieve, admirably well done. Round about the
pillar were four Harpies of Brass, their paws reaching to the depth of the Cistern,
and their backs turned opposite the one to the other to uphold the pillar; the tips
of their wings extended also to the bottom of the Alablafter bole, as seeming to
bear it up; they had womens faces, but Serpents writhen tails finishing in antick
foliage, which met together on the top of the pillar just against the Center of the
bole, whereunto likewise it served for an ornament: In the midst of this bole was
a Vase reverst, made also of Orientall Alablaster, which on its foot sustained a
round basis, whereupon were set the three Graces, almost quite naked, made of
Corinthian metall; they stood back to back, ejecting Water out their breasts, and
each of them holding a Corniucopia, which met all together a little above their
heads; out of the flowers and furits, which were represented there with suitable
pieces, made of Agates, Onixes, Turqueises, Carnalines, Topazes, and Emeraulds,
issued six spouts of water, which fell down into the bole, and disgorged themselves
into the Cistern through the muzzels of six Lions that were seen on the outside
thereof.  As for the six others, which issued from the breasts of the Graces, and
that did not spin out, they fell just into the heads of six Dragons of brass, which
were on the brim of the bole, and that rendred them; again through their mouthes:
These Dragons seemed to strive to get out of it, holding the brim with their tallons, the rest of their bodies, except their heads, and the tips of their wings, seeming to be hidden therein, so that those twelve spouts of water, comming to cross



one another, made so pleasing an object and murmure, as both sight and hearing
found at one and the same time wherewithall to be satifitd. The Cistern of this
Fountain was of Marble, but vvrought vvith such art in Mosaique vvorK, as there
appeared in the bottom through the vvater fishes, so admirably well represented,
that one might be deceived by them at the first light; this Cistern had also round
about it a little Balustrade of Jasper, for one to rest, and meditate upon. After
that Doria had well admired this Fountain, he gave his whole mind and attention
to observe the beauties of this marvellous frame; he saw then, that from each side
there went a vving of building, vvhich extended even to the Balustrade of Jasper
and Porphirie, and whereof the structure and symetrie was suitable to the
middle front: Each of these wings, as well as the grand fabrique, had a Copola, covered over with sheetes of brass, whereof the moity having received
an impression of fire, it had rendred then of a mixt colour between purple
and blew, which the Painters cannot well represent, and which shewed a
wonderfull object, being opposed to the other sheetes, whereunto had been given a tincture of gold. The rest of the roof was covered in the same manner,
as well as the Paviglions, whereof I have spoken; but when as Doria came to
cast his eye a little lower, and to observe that all the ornaments of this Fabrique
were of Jasper, Chalcedonie, Agate, and Onix, he was so surprised, as he could
not forbear demanding, whether this which he saw was not inchantment: But
though the abundance of Festons, of Trophies of Armes, Arabesques, Vases of incense, Frizes, Corniches interlaced with Drapery, extinct Torches, Cornucopiaes, and Chaplets of triumph, gave him a world of admiration,  yet was he far
more surprised to behold four and twenty Columnes of Touch, which seemed to
sustain the first Order, and which were placed by two and two in equall distance,
between each window; the basis and capitalls of them were of white and red
marble, in correspondencie to the body of the building, which was wholly constructed thereof; but to preserve these Columnes, and to render them withall the
more magnificent to the eye, they were twyned about with the leaves of Achanthes
of brass guilt, which yet was no hindrance, but that one might distinstly discern
of what stone they were made, so as the beauty of them might be admired for their
prodigious greatness.  Over the Entrata was a statue of Soliman on horseback in
base relieve; and on each side between those Columnes were six Niches, filled with
six great statues of women, habited a L'antipue, and representing the divers Natitions subjected to Solimon, who with one hand seemed to offer him their Crowns,
and with the other leaned on the Scutcheons of the armes ofthe Kingdomes, which
they represented. After he had well observed all these marvailes of Art and Nature, Ibrahim told him, that having yet many things to shew him, which it may
be deserved his approbation, as well as those he had already viewed, it was requisite they should make a turn in the Garden, that all the outside might be considered before he let him see that the inside was not ill understood; he made him pass
then under a great Vaulting, which traversed the whole body of the House, from
whence one descended to the Garden by a large half pace of Porphirie. This Vaulting was all of Mosaique work, composed of different Marbles and Jaspers, upon
a ground of Alablaster, but so wonderfully wrought, as an excellent Painter could
not with a pencill interlace a foliage more artificially, better observe the lights,
and the shadowes, nor make a fairer piece with liquid colours, which by his mixture of them he renders such as he pleaseth, than this excellent Artisan of so beautifull a work had done with suitable pieces, whereof the colours were all simple
and naturall, and the joyning of them together imperceptible to he clearest sighted
eyes. Jbrahim, whose impatience was extreme, and who imagined, that every
moment imployed by him any other way, than in thinking of his departure, was
an outrage to his love, and a crime towards Isabella, pressed Doria so much, as he
made him descend into the Garden; howbeit he stayed a little on the top of the
half pace the better to consider the beauty and extent of it. He saw upon the first
sight of it four preat parterres, in the midst whereof was a Round of an extraor-





dinary bigness, about the which were seen upon the bases of green Jasper six figures
of fisher-men, as big as the life, whereof there were three that held each of them
a Trident in his right hand, with the arm lifted up for to dart it; and the other
three testified by their action the joy which they felt for having hurled theirs so
rightly, as that they had therewith struck a Sea Monster, which was represented
in the middle ofthe Round, lying half along on his side, his head and his tail out
of the water, and with so much art, as he seemed to be somwhat pained with the
hurts which the three Tridents had given him, and from whence issued three
ejects of water, that were in stead of blood to him. Just opposite to the half-pace
and the Round was a Grot, admirably fair, both for the matter whereof it was
formed, and for the art wherewith it was made, so that Doria, being much taken with this object, seconded the grand-Visiers design, and went on as fast as he
desired him; the Bassa, not to lose time, caused him to observe in going along,
that on each side of his Garden was a close arbor, erected vvith porticoes of verdures, where the Gardiner had made it well appear, that he was not ignorant of
all the beauties of Architecture, since it had not any ornament there, which was
not of the same proportion, and of the same symetry, as was observed over all that
stately Palace. He made him also cast his eye to both the sides of the Grot, from
whence there ran a Balustrade of Jasper, beyond the which was seen on the right
hand a Laberinth, so artificially contrived, that it might be called a prison without
a gate; it being most certain, that without at the least a prodigious chance, or being taught by him that made it, one could not get out of this Dedale, what care
soever a man took to mark how he went into it: Doria would fain have gone and
made tryall of it; hovvbeit Ibrahim would not suffer him, but obliged him to
look toward the lest side of the Balustrade, where vvas seen a Grove of Orange,
Citron, Pomegranate, and Mirtle trees; and although the prospect of this place
was delectable, and the sent of it odoriferous, yet Doria past by them to admire the
mervailes of the Grot, whereunto they were then near; but whereas the description
of it would be too loug, it shall suffice to say, that it was of an Octangular form;
that although it was of a just depth, yet it was for all that so lightsom, as all
which the Orient hath of most rare was there to be seen: And to conceive a light
Idea of it, one must imagine, that he beholds together all the master-pieces, or to
say better, all the miracles of Nature; one must then figure unto himself great rocks
of Christall, of Emeraulds, and of Rubies, where there was seen in some of them,
that the Sun had not leisure to finish his work, being without colour in divers
parts; one must also paint forth to his imagination that wonderfull ennamell of
Orientall Shells, whereof the diversity is so agreeable, be it for their formes, or
for their lively colours, so well mingled, and so well sorted, that of all naturall
things they are the fairest, and most perfect; one must likewise conceive that in his
mind, which all the Painters cannot represent, I mean those great Conques of
Nacre, where the beames of the Sun leave so beautifull an impression of their
light, as neither Opales, nor the Rain-bow have any colours that are not surpassed
by the luminous Argent whereof they are formed, and which makes me name
them with reason the favorites ofthe Sun. But after all these things one must
imagine yet an infinite number of great branches of Corrall, of all colours which
Nature hath produced, namely of all the Carnations, white, black, and of the colour of fire. There must be further added to all these mervailes the fairest congelations and the rarest petrifications, whereof Philosophers, or Historians have ever
spoken to us: After this, I say, one may conceive part of those things which Doria
beheld in this Grot, vvhere all the artifices of vvater vvere seen admirably vvell
executed; there vvas a fall vvhich ran from a rock of Christall, and vvhich lost it
self presendy under another, whereof the noise vvas so charming, as there is not a
heart so light, nor a humor so sullen, in vvhom this murmure vvould not have excited a pleasing fancie; and that there may no doubt be made of the agreeableness ofthis inchanted Grot, I will say no more, but that Jbrahim himself, howsoever he was pressed by his passion, could not chuse but be surprised by a thought





of Isabella, which gave Doria the more leasure to see all that I have spoken of, and a thousand other rare things, which would be too long to relate. At last, after Doria had cried out an hundred times miracles, miracles, and that Ibrahim was come
out of his amorous contemplation, they went out of the Grot to return to the Palace, but still Doria looked to the place from whence they were parted, and his imagination was so taken up with that he had seen, as he was at the Round before he
ever thought of considering the front of the Palace on that side; he saw then that
it was wholly like the other, unless it were for a Balcone, which projected from
the rest of the work, and whereof the Balisters were of Copper gilt. Having seen
this they re-entred into the Palace, and ascended by a great stair of white and red
Marble, that had a rail and balister of the same; at the top they found a Lobby,
whole seeling and walls were adorned with an Arabesque of Gold and Azure,
inlayed with little peeces of Christall, like to Mosaique work, which yeelded both
a goodly and magnificent object. From thence they went into a spacieus Gallery,
which was on the right wing of the Palace, where Ibrahim had made a Library of all the curious Books of the Orientall Languages, and of all the choicest and rarest
in the Greek, Latin, Spanish, and Italian; but whereas the grand Visier did alwaies joyn magnificence to curiosity, all his Bocks were bound up in plates of
Gold, enammelled with white and green, and placed in order upon shelves of Ebony, which were bordered with a dentile of Goldsmiths-work, enammeled with
the same colours. There were also in this Gallery between the windows a great
number of Maps, both universall and particular; and upon a Tablet over the
Books a many of Globes and Spheres, different from one another, according to the
divers opinions of all them which have treated of such matters. In the same order likewise he had placed all sorts of Mathematicall instruments, the fairest and
the best made that ever were seen; as concave Mirrors, Clocks, Olomestres, Circles of proportion, and Astrolabes. But whereas Ibrahim contented not himself
with necessary things, but would also have those that were for delight, he had
there a number of those paintings, which by opticall reasons do make such excellent and charming illusions; for that purpose then he had Cilinders of severall
greatnesses, and to refresh the sight of them which read, he had of those Christall
Triangles, which by the effect of a marvailous reflection do take and give all at
one time the colours of the Rainbow to all the objects that are seen through them.
He had also divers magnificent Desks, Prospective-glasses, and before the middle
window a Table of Ebony, garnished with Gold, and enammeled as the shelves,
with a Standish upon it covered all over with Emeraulds, some dark, some clear,
which made a foliage admirably well represented. At the end of this Gallery that
looked upon the first Court, was a door which opened to the Terrace, whereof I
have spoken, and which answered to the Paviglion in the middle, where the
Grand Visier had made a Cabinet of Arms, which he would needs have his dear
friend to see; he led him then by the way which I have noted, but Doria at his
entrance into it was exceedingly amazed and surprised; for the very first object
that his eye met withall, was a Trophy of Arms, sustained in the air by the prodigious vertue of a great Adamant, which was the Key-stone of the roof of this Cabinet, wherein were seen together, and in order, all the different Arms, both antient and modern, of all the Nations of the World; but so fair, so magnificent,
and so enriched, each one according to its use, as one would have sayd, that they
were the Master-peeces of all the excellent Artisans that ever wrought in Arms:
But amongst the rest those of Persia were the richest, and most sumptuous; all the
Scymitars had their Hilts and Scabberds of Gold, all covered over with pretious stones; and whereas that Country doth abound with Turqaeyses, there were Targets and Quivers set all over with them, and Bows and Arrows answerable to the glittering beauty thereof. Now though the sight of all these things were wonderfully pleasing to Doria, yet gave he over beholding them, as soon as Ibrahim shewed him three Harquebuses of a miraculous artifice; whereof the first, which he caused him to make tryall of, shot off without fire, by the means of an in-




closed wind which coming to issue forth expelled the bullet with the like impetuosity; the second performed the same thing with water; and the third, but the
most marvellous, by the means of that powder which is called white, shot off, not
only vvithout fire, but also vvithout noise. If Doria had followed his humour
he would have stayed a long time in Philosophying on all these secrets, by maintaining, that neither vvater nor vvind, could ever have the same activity vvith fire and
so by consequence that vvhich he savv could not be vvithout inchantment; but Ibrahim told him they vvould speak of it at leisure during the voyage they vvere
going to make, and vvithout harkening to him further, he made him go forth
at a door opposite to that vvhereby they had entred, and vvhich gave upon
the same Terrace that ansvvered to the end of the Gallery on the left vving
vvhere the Illustrious Bassa had caused all the Turkish Emperours to bee
dravvn, from Othoman, vvho vvas the first, to Soliman then reigning.
But whereas he was not contented with having their faces represented but would
have the Othoman History also painted, there was in this Gallery fourteen great
Tables, in each of which was an Emperor as big as the life, and within the same
frame all the principall actions of his Reign; but the same so well done, so distinctly, and so well ordered, as Doria was ravished therewith, and plainly swore to
Ibrahim, that he would not stir out of that Gallery till he had considered all these
Pictures attentively, and that he had expounded them unto him. The Bassa declined it as much as he could, but at length seeing his friend persist in his obstinate
curiosity, he resolved to satisfie him, upon condition nevertheless, that he should
not stand to particularize all that he saw in those Tables: And whenas Doria
had shewed him that he was contented therewith, he requested him to pardon him
if in the prosecution of those painted Histories he saw a number of victories gained over the Christians, which much against his mind he had suffered to be there,
but that in the end he durst do no otherwise. This said, making use of an Indian
Cane, which he ordinarily carried in his hand, the better to make Doria observe
what he was going to shew him, he began to speak in these terms.
The Pourtrait of Othoman the first Emperor of
the TURKS.
YOu see, my dear Doria, in this first Table, which you shall not see above once
again in all the rest, I mean a Prince repleat with all vertues, and absolutely
exempted from all vices, who owed his fortune to his own proper valour, and
who alone laid the foundations of this great Empire: And indeed his memory
hath been so reverenced, that even to this day all his Successors have held it for a
glory to carry his name. You may observe in his Physiogminy that he vvas a Prince
as prudent, as the rest of the Table vvill shevv him to be couragious. This battell
which you see afar off, is that which he obtained against the Teggiur of the Town
of Prusia; but mark a little how the industrious Painter hath so done it, as all
these figures seem to move, and that in this disorder one may know the victorious
party; he hath done it so too, that Othoman is easily discerned there: But is this
fight be well represented, this affault of that Town of Prusia, and where he afterwards established the seat of his Empire, wil not seem less marvellous unto you.
This pane of the wall, which you see fallen down, and which lets you perceive them
plainly that defended it, is it not admirably well done? These other Towns
which you behold so distinctly, are those of Sinopa in Galatia, of Angauri in Phrigia, of Sebasta in Capadocia; and these which you see further off towards those
Rocks, are the rest which he gained on Mare major. As for this Land-skip, set
thick with Towns which you see beyond Prusia, it is of Natolia, that he wholly
conquered; and this Army which seemeth to march, and whereof all the souldiers
are laden with booty, is the first that ever passed into Europe,and that made strange
havock under this excellent enemy. But without staying to consider the rest, let us
pass on to this other Table.The Pourtrait of Orchan the second Emperor of the TURKS.THis Prince was the truly worthy sonne of Othoman, continued Ibrahim, infor tunate nevertheless in this particular, that he was forced to be the first, who-began to make war on his Brothers, and wholly to exclude them from all pretension to the Empire; but if he were unhappy in this encounter, fortune recompensed him otherwayes; his conquests having extended their limits on the one side to
the Helespont, and on the other to Mare major. These Towns which you see neerest
hand, are those of Nicea, and Nicomedia; and this Army in disorder, where the
Painter hath so well represented fear and amazement, is that of the Emperor Paleologue, which was routed by Orchan neer to Philocratia, as you may discern afar
off.  As for this great extent of Countrey, and this number of Towns, which
take up all the rest of the Table, it is Misia, Licaonia, Caria, and Phrigia, except
the Towns of Gallipolis, and Philopoli, which you see on the right hand, and which
were his last conquests, for he died soon after.  But let us behold the next.
The Pourtrait of Soliman the third Emperor
of the Turks.
IF the life of this Emperor had been longer, he would have yet surpassed his Father, both in valor, and in prudence, and we should have seen the Table of his
victories filled up more than it is; but whereas his reign indured but two years,
he had no more time than to take Andrinople, conquer a great part of Thrace, and
bring also under his subjection the Towns of Pergamas, Edrenuta, Zemeniqua, and
some others, as well on this, as on the other side of the Helespout, which you see
here running athwart this Table. But this other piece will furnish us with more
matter to speak of than this same.
The Pourtrait of Amurath the fourth Emperor
of the Turks.
TO describe unto you the humor of this Prince, before I speak of his Triumphs,
I must tell you that he had together both force and weakness, curtesie and cruelty, and agility in his age; that he was both terrible and loving; that he was insatiable in shedding of blood, and that nevertheless he never put any one to death
but most justly. It was as well by these according contrarieties that he rendred himself admirable to Posterity, as by his valour, which being seconded by fortune made
him take Pherea, the capitall Citie of Macedonia, conquer Misia from Dragus, and
Mount Rhodope from the Pogdan, two valiant and mighty Princes, and the most
part of Armenia from the Greek Emperor. Carathin a great Captain, conquered for him also the Towns of Cherales, Seres, Marolia, and the renowned Thessalonica,
which the Painter hath made to be seen more distinctly, than those I have already
shewed you, as being of more importance. Doria could not then forbear interrupting Ibrahim, for to pray him to let him know whether those millions of armed
and fighting men which he saw in this Table, were not the picture of all the Battells that were given during the reigns of all the Emperors. You have reason my
dear Doria, answered the Illustrious Bassa, to be amazed at the prodigious number
of men which this Table doth shew you, where the Art of the Painter hath as well
eternized his own glory, as that of Amurath, by representing seven and thirty battells which he won: And that which is yet more marvellous therein is, that he
died triumphing in the last. See you not, continued Ibrahim, this Army discom-





sited? And this great heap of armes in the midst of the place of battail, upon the
which a dead man appeares, holding nevertheless a scymitar still in his hand, and
upon whom Victory, which you may see here represented in the air, throws down
Crownes; it is the body of Victorious Amurath, whose death was worthy of envy,
and whose life would have defaced the glory of all them that preceded him, had
it not been blemished with cruelty: But is the death of Amurath deserved to be
envyed, that of Bajazet will give you cause of pitty.
The Pourtrait of Bajazet, the fifth Emperor of
the TURKS.
THe nature of this prince cannot be well represented but by the lightning, which
terrifieth universally, which ravageth indifferently, passeth in a momant, and
perisheth in an instant; all of them qualities admirably befitting Bajazet, surnamed by his subjects Guilderum, that is to say, the lightning of Heaven. But
whereas the remembrance of his life strikes me with horror, by reason of the unheard-of cruelties which he exercised, it shall suffice to tell you, that after he had
gotten some battailes, which you see presented in this Table, taken the Town of
Eritza, and those of Hisipolis, Iconium, Casura, Migdia, and Assara from the Caraman; and gained also by armes from a Greek, named Theodorus, the Town of
Damacia, and that of Delphos, which you see here near hand; after he had, I say,
sacked all Hungaria, Bossina, and Croatia; defeated the French, Burgingnians, and
Hungarians, in that memorable battail of Nicopolis; after he had, I say, filled the
whole Universe with terror, put all the Provinces where he passed to fire and
sword, he lost in one onely battel his Empire, and his glory, serving Tamerlan, who
had vanquished him, all the rest of his daies; and at last was constrained, for his
geting out of misery, to make his tomb of his prison, by beating out his braines as
against the iron barres of the cage, wherein he was inclosed; An action so strange,
it is impossible not to bc moved with it. But let us see how the eldest of his children
began to reestablish the disorders of his father.
The Pourtrait of Iosue, the sixth Emperor of
the TURKS.
IT is easier to conquer, than to reestablish; to increase ones felicity, than to retire
from a misfortune; of a petty Soveraign to become a mighty Monarch, than to remount into a Throne from whence one is descended. It is no little glory to Josue,
after the utter dissipation of his fathers Sate, to have been the first in raising up again that mighty Empire, by regaining from Tamerlan the City of Prusia, which
you have already seen, as having been before the chief seat of their Empire, and
very near all that his Predecesfors had possessed in Asia. He did the like in
Europe, as you may see in this Table; and when he was returned into Asia, his
brother Musulman, fortified with the succor of the Greeks, incountred him in
Cappadocia, gave him battail, which he wun, and taking him prisoner caused him
to be strangled, after he had reigned four yeares. But this cruelty was repaid unto
him, as you will quickly understand.
The Pourtrait of Musulman, the seaventh Emperor
of the TURKS.
ALthough that Musulman shewed himself exceedingly couragious before he
vanqnished his brother, yet shall you see but two battailes in this Table:





That which you see a far off is the same, whereof I have spoken; and the other
which you see near hand, is one that he obtained against a brother of his, called
Moyses, who had established himself in Greece: And truely the History doth declare,
that Musulman did in his own person perform miracles at that battel, I whereof
he had all the glory, and all the advantage; but as soon as he saw that he was peaceable in his State, he abandoned himself in such sort to voluptuousness, as he became more cowardly, than he was valiant before, so that Moyses having rallied his
forces, which were dispersed by his deafeat, gave battel again to Musulman, who
shamefully fled, was taken, and brought to his brother, that quickly revenged the
death of Josue by taking away his life. But let us behold the sequel of the History
of this third Sonne of Bajazet, which will not be long.
The Pourtrait of Moyses, the eighth Emperor of the TURKS.
MOyses having reigned but three years, you may not expect the fight of many
conquests, in this Table; all that he could doe was to give some rest unto
Asia, to spoil the Country of the Bulgarians, take the Town of Spenderovia, reduce
the Pogdan to his obedience, and win the battel which his Nephew Mahomet presented him with, who not long after rallied his forces, and came upon him with
a fresh charge, where Moyses had the worst, by being abandoned of his Souldiers in
this fight, so that he was taken in a marish with one of his hands cut off, whereof
they soon cured him by putting him to death. Now though this Table be not
much filled, yet certainly it is none of the meanest; the colours of it are so Vive,
the digesting of it so beautifull, this order of the Architecture so well understood,
as it may be said in viewing this piece, that the art of the Painter hath supplyed the
defect ofthe matter.
The Pourtrait of Mahomet the ninth Emperor of
the TURKS.
AT length after so many Losses, Captivities, Sackings, Massacres, Fratricides,
and civill dissentions, the Turkish Empire began to reassume its antient
lustre under the conduct of Mahomet, who after he had repulsed all them that had
atttacqued him, conquered Pontus, Cappadocia, and all those other Provinces, which
the Painter hath so well represented a far off; his armes were also victorious in
divers incounters under the leading of Amurath his Eldest sonne. Mahomet subdued likewise Servia, Valachia, a great part of Sclavonia, and Macedonia; chaced all
the petty Kings out of the lesser Asia to establish a Beglierbey there, which is as
much to say, as a Vice-Roy; at last, after he had performed a thousand brave exploits, for a recompence of his vertue, he reigned a long time, and dyed peaceably
in his State of a naturall death, exceedingly regretted of all his Subjects. But before we pass on I must cause you to mark one address of the Painter, that peradventure you have not heeded, which is, that to make one know the diversity
of Provinces, and Armies, which you have seen throughout all these Tables, he
hath alwaies observed the attire, armes, standarts, and briefly all the particular
things of every Nation: After this advertisement the rest of these pieces will give
you more contentment yet, than the other have done. Let us see then, whether Amurath was the worthy successor of his father.
The Pourtrait of Amurath the second, the tenth Emperor of the TURKS.
THe Physiognimy of this Prince is not deceiving, and although it doth promise
us much, wee shall yet find more: After then that this Prince had defeated
Mustapha, the last sonne of Bajazet, whom the Greeks had made to rise up against
him, as also another Mustapha his brother, whom the same Greeks had likewise
protected, he turned the fury of his armes against them; taking from them the City of Thessalonica, which the Painter hath represented unto us as fair as the
Historians have described it, and whereof the perspective is so marvellous, as one
hath much adoe to believe that the running in of this gate is not effective. But let
us return to the Victories of this Prince, who spoiled the higher Misia, took the
Town of Senderovia, conquered the Countries of Sarmian, and of Sarcan, two
mighty Princes of the lesse Asia, and the Town of Coni from the Caraman: The
Hungarians having in the mean time broken the peace  which they had contracted with him, he returned into Europe, and was so fortunate, that the Christian Gallies, which lay at the streight of Helespont to hinder his passage,  were constrained by foul weather to retire; he in the mean while came to that memorable
plain, which gave name to the famousest battel that ever was heard spoken of. And
see you not how the Painter hath been pleased to represent it? Mark this Squadron
a little which gives ground, and this other which is broken; consider the left wing
which is routed; observe this close Battalion, which is going to attacque this other
that is ready to fly: As for the body of the Battail, where you see so great a disorder, and such a confusion of dead horses, men overthrown, blood spilt, and armes
broken, it is here in this place,  where the Painter would represent the death of
Ladislaus, which arrived in this battel, with the loss very near of  all the Nobility of Hungary; some fighting to revenge the death of their Prince, and others to
recover his body; but to shew clearly that the victory was on Amuraths side, the
Painter hath represented Renown, which seemes to fly over his Troopes for to
advertise them of it. Howbeit not to stand longer hereupon, it shall suffise to say,
that after the battel of Varnes he conquered Peloponnesus; that he dismissed himself
absolutely from his Empire, which to took upon him again soon after, for to obtain a battel against the valiant Huniades; he made the King of Bosnia also his
Tributary, which was his last victory: For the couragious George Scanderbeg
Castriot, King of Albania, who had been his Slave, and that had acquired unto himself with so much justice the glorious title of the Buckler of Christendom, oposed all his enterprises with such valour, as this great Prince, seeing himself forced
so raise his siege from before Croya, dyed with grief and spight at it.
The Pourtrait of Mahomet the second, the eleventh
Emperor of the Turks.
IT was not without some cause that this Prince would be surnamed Bovi, which
is to say, Great, or the Terror of the World, seeing all his actions have been so
great, and high, that if his excellent qualities had been without blemish, this
Prince had been incomparable. He was great in his enterprises, great in courage,
great in conduct, great in prudence, a great Politician, great in conquest, great in
beauty, and in subtilty of wit; but he was also great in impiety, in dissoluteness,
in revenge, in perfidiousness, and in ambition. The greatness of his courage, and
of his enterprises,carried him against the Greeks, Hungarians, Trebisondsans, Misians, Valachians, Transilvanians, Bosniaus, Albanians, Rhodians, Venetians, and divers
other people. In conclusion, my dear Doria, this Prince had to do with all the
Warlike Nations of the World; but this Table contains too many things to he





explaned particularly unto you, wherefore it shall suffice, that you only do admire
the exquisite ordering of it, and that I tell you in generall, how Mahomet conquered, in two and thirty years that he reigned, twelve Kingdoms, and two Empires,
that of Trebisond, and that of the Greeks, together with this mighty and renowned City of Constantinople; as also that of Croya, and all Albania, Valachia, Bosnia,
Scodra, Peloponesus, and the Town of Otranto. He reduced the Caraman under his
obedience, Stiria, Carinthia, Synope, the Hand of Metelin; and after the battell
which he gained against Usuncassan, he constrained him to seek his amity. Howbeit
he was not equally fortunate, for the valiant Haniades, and the valorous Scanderbeg, vanquished sometimes in him the Vanquisher of all others. And whereas ambition was the predominant passion in the heart of Mahomet, it followed him
even to death, ordaining that upon his Tomb there should be set, after a long narration of all his Victories,in the Turkish tongue, this subscription in Latin,
He had a purpose to ruin Rhodes, and superb Italy.
But the divine justice extinguished his desires with his dayes.
The Pourtrait of Bajazet the second, the twelfth Emperor of the Turks.
The life of this Prince is so replenished with divers adventures, as it cannot be
defined certainly, whether he had more good than bad fortune. The begining of his Reign was established by three Battels which he obtained against a
Brother of his, who was constrained to fly unto Rhodes. When he was at peace he
conquered Caramania, did great spoyl in Moldavia, took the Town of Chillum,
together with the Castle, and that of Moncastro, the chief of the Province; he took
also Lepanto, Modon, Coron, and Junqua from the Christians, whom he defeated in
a Navall-fight, as you may behold in this Table, where the Painter verily hath
done prodigies. See you not, continued Ibrahim, these two vessels grapled together? consider a little with what ardour the assailants seem to go to the fight,
and how one of these Janizaries striving to leap aboord this small vessel is repulsed
by this Christian, how in falling he hath seized on his enemy, whom he drags along with him. Behold also on the left hand this vessel, which the Turks had invested, and how that rather than they would yeeld, they have blown up themselves; observe withall these flakes of fire, which light upon this other vessell,
whose tackle and sayles already begin to burn; and how this great cloud of smoak, which steals away the rest of the Army from our eyes, is an address of the Painter, who waiting room hath repaired that defect by this invention. But without standing on the last disorders of this Prince, which were strange, whether for the violent deaths that he caused, or for that which he received, let us pass on to this other piece.The Pourtrait of Selim, the thirteenth Emperor of the Turks.THis gloomy physiognomy, and this haughty look, do not ill paint forth unto, us the ambition and cruelty of Selim, but they conceal from us his vertues which certainly were very great. He was prudent, and advised amidst dangers, prompt and vigilant in his enterprises, indefatigable in War, of an invincible courage, a reasonable Justicer mauger his cruelty, extremely liberall; and that which is of most marvail in this Prince is, that he was never vanquished after he



was Emperor. He loved the reading of History, he made verses in his own tongue,
was very skilfull in Painting, and even to the point, that he sent, as I have already
delared, the Battell which he obtained against the Sophy, drawn with his own hand,
unto the Venetians, who conserve it still unto this day in their Treasurie. There is
also a great number of his works to be seen in the Seraglio: He was very Eloquent, and nothing curious of the magnificence of Apparell; and that which I
most admire in him, is, that he alwayes refused those adorations which are accustomed to be rendred to the Turkish Emperors, never suffering any to cast themselves on the ground in speaking to him, nor to do him reverence on their knees.
And truly is this Emperor had not blemished his glory by that prodigipus desire
of reigning, which carried him to take away the life of him, from whom he had
received his; to cause two of his Brothers, eight of his Nephews, and as many
of his Bassaes to be strangled, he had been excellent in all things. But to pass over his Victories lightly, because time doth press us, I will onely tell you in few
words, that he won a famous Battle of the Sophy at Zaleran; that he took Tauris, which he kept not long; and Keman at his return; he rendred himself Master
of Aladulia, after he had vanquished King Ustagelu; he passed into Siria, where
he defeated Campson Gauri, Sultan of Cairo, in a battel neer to Aleppo, which was
rendred unto him, as well as Damascus, and all the rest of Siria; from thence going to Jerusalem, he conquered all Palestina by the valour of Sinan Bassa, who obtained a Battel neer to Gaza; whereupon Selim, having passed the deserts of Egypt,
fought a battel vvith Thomombey hard by Matharea, and constrained him to retire
to Cairo, where was given the most memorable battel of our Age, for it lasted three
dayes and three nights in continuall fight; but in the end Selim was victorious
and forced the Mamelucks to abandon the City unto him; and having recovered
new forces, they were utterly defeated, and Thomombey taken prisoner.  After he
had given the pillage of Cairo to his souldiers, as you may see in this Table
where this dreadfull disorder is so well exprest, he went and took also Alexandria, Damiotta, Tripoli, and all the rest of Egypt and Arabia: One of his Bassaes
obtained likewise a great Victory against the Persians. But at last, after he had been
in so many fights, won so many battails, and conquered so many Provinces, in
less than two years, as he thought to return triumphant to the seat of his Empire
he dyed at Chiourli, in the very same place where before he had given battel to his
father, after he had reigned only eight years.
The Pourtrait of Soliman the second, the fourteenth
Emperor of the Turks.
THe Victories of great Soliman are so universally known of all the World, that
upon the least considering of this Table, you will bring them unto your memory again, it being impossible but that same hath acquainted you with them: You
will easily then knovv Belgrade and the Isle of Rhodes, where this Emperor stood
in need of all his conduct, and of all his valour. This Battel which you see a
far off, is that of Mohacs vvhich he gained against the Hungarians, wherein dyed
Lewis King of Hungary. This City, which here I shew you (continued Ibrahim)
is Bagadet, where Soliman was crowned King of Persia; but though I have some
share in this War, as well as in that of Natolia, which you may see also in this
Table, I will refer this narration to another time, that may be more opportune
for us. I know, my deai Doria, that this proposition displeases you, but you must
obey me, for you will not be the strongest at Constantinople; and though you may
absolutely command Justiniano, yet must you at this time follow the pleasure Ibrahim. Let us make an end then of running over the Victories of Soliman again,
and without particularising every one, it shall suffice me to tell you, Assyria, and Mesopotamia do obey him; that he hath taken Strigonia, and Alba Regalis; that he hath made six expeditions into Hungary; that he hath subdued Aladulia

and the Kingdom of Aden, with many other Towns on the red sea; that he hath
rendred Argier Tributary; that he hath also subjected Pialli, Tripoli, and Gerbes:
But after all these things, that which I find to be most excellent in the life of this
Prince is, that he conquered a Kingdom for to restore it unto him to whom it appertained, by rendring unto him again all the strong places that he had in his
hands, which he performed in the person of John King of Hungary; and I more
esteem of him for having surmounted this ambition vvhich is naturall to all Monarchs, than I commend him for all his Victories: And whereas I make more account of the gifts of Nature than of the presents of Fortune, I had rather make
you an Elogium of his person in particular, than speak further to you of his Conquests, which are already but too great on Christendom side. Behold then, my
dear Doria, this Majesticall face, and this vertuous physiognomy; did you ever
see a more goodly man? or one of a better aspest? There appears in his eyes a
vivacity of spirit, and a sweetness which charmeth hearts, and in the air of his
face a certain tranquillity, which sufficiently shews that this Prince is master of
his passions, and that without doubt he hath no interior trouble; I know not whether my affection to him doth blind or dazle me, but I see something of such state
in his port, and of so much majesty over all his person, as I hold it impossible for
one to look upon him, and not to love him; Furthermore this goodly apparance
is not deceitfull, and the qualities of this Princes soul are so noble and vertuous,
that if he were a Christian he would be of all men the most perfect. He hath together, both much valour, and much conduct; he is infinitely just towards his own
people, and exceeding clement towards his enemies; he is so rigorous an observer
of his vvord, as he vvould resolve rather to lose his Empire, than not to
keep it, when once he hath given it: He is great in spirit, great in judgement, and great in memory; he understands the Mathematicks, and the universall History, so admirably, as nothing can be propounded to him touching
those matters which he resolves not upon the place. Finally, he is a Prince that
possesseth all vertues, and that hath never been vanquished save by one only passion; but whereas it is the nobleft of all others, I think you will pardon him this
weakness; he hath been then passionately amorous of divers women, but amongst the rest of the Sultana Roxelana, whom he would needs espouse, to the end she might partake with him in that surpreme greatness which the Othoman Princes do not lightly bestow, and which to conserve wholly to themselves, they never, or seldom marry; howbeit love was stronger in Soliman, than either reason or State, or the example of his Predecessors. Behold, my dear Doria, a simple draught of this great Emperor, whom ere it be long you may compare with the originall, that so you may judge, whether I have robbed him of any thing, or flattered him; for this great Prince hath commanded me to bring you to the Seraglio, when as I go thither to take my leave of him; in the mean space, since we are pressed with time, let us make an end of viewing this house.In saying so, Ibrahim opened a door, which gave upon the Lobbey, whereof I have already spoken, but before they past on, Doria testified to Ibrahim hovv glad he was of the hope he had given him that he should present himself to the Grand Signior; he rendred him thanks also for having so punctually explaned all those peeces, by abridging unto him the History of so great an Empire, which he had never understood but very confusedly before. He would have said more, if our illustrious Bassa would have suffered him, but his impatience appeared so visibly in his eyes, that Doria without further stay went out of the Gallery smiling into the Lobbey, from whence they past through three outward chambers, which were all of a floor, before they came to Ibrahims: the seeling of them were very magnificent, and the meanest of the Hangings were of cloth of Gold, of Tinsell, or Persian Tapestry; the floors, as of all the rest, vvere made of suitable peeces of severall Marbles, and in proportionable divisions. After he had stayed a vvhile to consider all these things, they entred into the Bassaes chamber, vvhere Doria vvas surprised vvith the furniture of it, both for the richness, and fashion thereof; for it was





hanged with black Velvet, set all over with tears and flames imbroidered in pearl:
Here it was where Ibrahim desired his dear Doria to remember the things which he
should see in this chamber, more particularly than all the rest of the Palace, to the
end he might testifie to the incomparable Isabella,that she had always reigned in
his heart, and that to conserve the memory of her, he would never open his eys in
waking, without beholding some marks of his love; he caused him then to observe,
that in the seeling of this chamber were five great Ovals,in each of which was a Table, & between every of them hung festons of flowers and fruits, all gilt; the rest of the
seeling being done with cornishments, whereof some were of azure, some of burnished gold. In the middle piece, which was greater than the rest, was a woman represented, whom Doria presently knew, because she had somthing of Isabella in her, although
it was a very imperfect resemblance; for Ibrahim having lost her picture, could do
no more but instruct the Painter with the colour of her hair, with the form of
her face, with all the features of it in particular, with the vivacity of her complexion, with her stature, and with her bosome; for as for the air and gracefulness, which cannot be exprest, but in calling it the soul of beauty, it is a thing
that cannot pass from our imagiiption to that of another, and that consequently
did not permit Ibrahim's Painter to make any marvellous picture of Isabella; but
in conclusion it was resembling enough for to cause them, who knew her, to judge
that she was thought of when this piece was made. This imperfect resemblance
having entertained them a while, Doria considered all this Table, and saw (as I have
already declared) a woman sumptuously apparelled, who trampled under her feet
honor, vertue, and love, which were seen represented with the marks whereby they
are known; and that with her right hand, lifted up on high, she took from fortune, who appeared over her in the air, a little Crown, which she seemed to receive very contentedly, with this Motto, All for her.Doria easily comprehended
this Embleme, and no way doubted, but that the Bassa had caused it to be made
out of the opinion he had, that Isabella had despised her love, her promises, and
her constancy, to espouse the Prince of Masseran, who was but a petty Soveraign.
After he had commended the art of the Painter, and the invention of the design,
the Bassa leading him towards one of the corners of the chamber, the better to
view the second Ovall, demanded of him whether this other Table would be as
intelligible to him as the first? Doria approaching to it, and considering it,
beheld a Love, in whose face choler and fury were so well painted, as it was easie
to imagine that he himself had burst his bow, broken his arrows, thrown away
his quiver, and torn his head-band, which were seen scattered about him; and that
which better expressed his despair, was, that having nothing left him of all the
marks of his Divinity but his torch, he plunged it, all flaming as it was, into a
fountain to extinguish it, with this Motto, I cannot. Doria vvas so ravished with
this Table, as he could not forbear considering all the beauties of it, and vvhereas
the explication of it vvas easie, he told the Bassa, that he vvould pardon him for
that he vvould have extinguished so fair a fire as that vvherevvith he was inflamed,
at such a time as he thought it to be unjust, but that he held him happy for that he
could not do it, and for having conserved a flame, vvhich he could not put out
vvithout a crime: After this he admired the Art of the Painter, and principally
of the torch, which this Love plunged into the fountain, where the excellent
Workman had so vvell represented that naturall antipathy betvvixt vvater and
fire as never did any one behold a thing better imitated: This fountain seemed to
boil vvith choler to see her enemy so neer her; and this flame desiring to eloign
it self from that which would destroy it, seemed exceedinglv to strive to get from
it, and rising up on high in wreathing about the torch, melted so great a quantity of
wax, as all the fountain seemed to be covered over with it. Ibrahim not suffering
Doria to admire this piece any longer, constrained him to look upon the third, desiring him hovvsoever not to bestovv much time in it, because that Table did outrage Isabella, as vvell as another vvhich he should see aftervvards: He shevved him
then the same vvoman he had seen before, but in a different habit; for here the





Painter had given her a robe of changeable Taffeta, vvhere all colours reigned equally; this vvoman was on the brink of the Sea, the agitation vvhereof she beheld vvith delight; in one hand she held a Crescent, vvith the other she seemed to
point at a Camelion, vvhich vvas at her feet, and that leaning his body on a part of
her robe had assomed all the colours of it; the rest of that creature vvas grayish
like to the earth vvhereon it stood, vvith this Motto, Yet more.After that Doria had seen this piece, he told the Bassa, that he had reason to say
it did outrage Isabella, in accusing her of inconstancy, but since this crime had been
committed through the malice of fortune, he should one day obtain his grace
for it: This said, they passed to the other end of the chamber, and beheld in
the fourth Table, a proper man, and of a good aspest, that seemed very sad; he
had on the one side the same Isabella, whom they had seen before, and on
the other, death, with this Motto, The one, or the other.Now although this piece was admirably well done, yet would not Doria stay to
consider it, but onely told the Bassa, that the noble despair which he had shewed
in this Table, rendred him vvorhy to be put, at his return to Genoua, into the possession of an happiness, which he could never lose again but by death alone;
hovvbeit in the mean time he vvas most assured, that albeit this picture did not
fill the imaginination vvith a fair Idea, yet vvould it be more pleasing to Isabella
than that other, vvhere the Painter had given her a roab of all the colours of the
Rain-bovv. The Bassa then pushing him to the other side of the chamber, told him,
that this, vvhich he was novv going to shevv him, would not like enough please
her ere a vvhit more, if she had not the goodness to consider, that his love had
hovvsoever been so strong, as to make him conserve vvith some delight the very
marks of her contempt, and inconstancie, vvhich he had believed to be true; he
caused Doria then to behold the last picture of this seeling. It was a Land-skip, vvhere the Princes vvas seen again holding an heart in her hand, that vvas all of a
flame, and not far from her a great fire of stravv, where the Painter had so well
imitated nature, as it vvas easie to perceive, that hovv vive soeyer this flame vvas
yet could it not long indure: There vvere also flashes of lightning seen darting at her head, vvith his Motto, Less durable.Doria then accused Ibrahim of injustice, and told him, that if this piece had been less excellent, he should hardly have pardoned him the wrong he did Isabella, but he vvas so ravished to see those vvaving flames, vvvhich came out of a cloud, and that spread themselves over all the piece, leaving an impression of fire and light, vvhich seemed even to redouble, and lessen, as if the cloud had opened, and shut it self, that he ceased to accuse him, for to praise the Painter, vvhich he did vvith so much aggregation, as Ibrahim vvas constrained to urge him more than once to view a picture, which he had cause to be set over his Chimney: Now he had no sooner cast his eye upon it, but he vowed it was the best of them all; the ordering of it was rare, the design extraordinary and new, the colours most agreeable, the prospective excellent; in conclusion this Table was drawn with so bold an hand, as it might well be called a Master-piece of this art. A rock was seen there in the midst of an inraged Sea, which the Painter had done so well, as those foaming waves, that brok themselves against the rock, seemed to have some motion: There was seen also a little from thence the wrack of a Vessell, whereon the thunder fell, which was seen to issue like a torrent of fire out of the cloud, that seemed to rive asunder with such violence, as little lacked but that one sense deluded did not deceive the other, in making it to imagine that it heard that, which was seen so well represented. This mervailous Artisan had likewise so well painted that confused mixture, which is seen in the air during a great tempest, where rain, wind, snow, hail, flashes of lightening, and obscurity, reign all at once, that one could not behold it without some terror: Vpon the top of this rock was an open tomb seen, whereunto a man, weary, and wet all over, advanced in great hast, holding a Love in one hand, and with the other pointing to the tomb, vvith this Motto, Let us save our selves there.You will without doubt find another sanctuary, said Doria to the illustrious
Bassa, who, answering him no otherwise than with a sigh, made him enter into his
Cabinet, the door whereof was on the right hand of the chimney, not far from
his bed, which after the custom ofthe Country was rolled up in a great Persian tapestry Counterpoint of silke and gold. But if Doria had admired all that he had
seen in this Palace, he beheld with astonishment the magnificence of this Cabinet
whereof the embowed roof and walles were inriched with a foliage of pretious
stones, upon a ground of black marble, where birds, flowers, and fruites, were seen
so admirably well done, that the art surmounted the matter, although Topazes
Jacints, Opales, Emeraulds, Rubies, Diamonds, and Carbuncles were the colours
wherewith all these things were represented. Round about this Cabinet were
shelves of Ebony, sustained by curtroses of gold, which projected out of the wall
wall by equall distances, the edges, and uper part of these shelves, were enriched
with Orpheury, enammeled onely with white and black, the better to set off those
things which were upon them; but to speak that in few words, and confusedly,
which would be too long to describe in order, one might see there Caskets of
different Ambers, great Vases of Christall of the rock, of Cornaline, and Agate,
with branches of Corrall, which might rather be called trees, by reason of their
prodigious greatness: Finally, all that Persia, China, Japon, and all the Orientall
Countries do produce of most rare, rich, and beautifull, were found amassed together in this place. After that Doria had said all, that admiration, and amazement
can make them say, who love, and know rarities, they repassed through the chamber, to go unto a door that was opposite to that of the Cabinet, whereby one entred into Ibrahims Bath, who, being accommodated with all exterior things, according to the custom ofthe Country where he lived, did not fail in having a
goodly and magnificent one. It was a place spacious enough, in form Octangular,
invironed about with seates, whereunto one ascended by four steps of Jasper, and
Chalcedony,  whereof the two lovvermost vvere covered vvith vvater even up to
the brim of the third, the fourth being vvholly out of the vvater: At each of the
eight angles vvas a Colum, after the Corinthian manner, of Jasper mingled vvith
divers colours; the Columnes were planted on the fourth step, which served them
for a pedestall, with their Bases, Capitalls, Frizes, and Corniches; the Frize was
carved in half relieve, where naked children were seen, who seemed to combat in
the water with little Sea Monsters, and to wrastle with them, with efforts so agreeable to their yeares, as the workman deserved no little glory for the same.
All these sigures were so lively set forth, as they seemed to move, so easily may the
imagination be deceived by things that are well represented; over the Frize was
the Cornish, and above that just perpendicular to every Column rose up a twyning wreath of Oaken leaves, laid one upon another, made of green Jasper, and
bound with filets of gold, mounting up on the ribbs of the vaulting, and meeting
the middle in the form of a Chaplet of Triumph. All the walls were overlaid with
a compound stone, called Aventurina, and whereof they seemed to be framed, so excellently was this work contrived. But amongst all the beauties of the place the greatest was, that between those eight Columns, whereof I have already spoken, there
were as many Niches, four of which were filled with great Vases of gold, that
served to lay the perfumes in, and other things necessary to the Bath; the other
four which separated those former, were filled with four Nimphes of white marble so admirably fair, as Nature hath never made any thing more beautifull, than
the Idea of this excellent workman:  These figures were all in different actions;
some of them seemed to uncloth themselves for to enter into the Bath; others to
come out of it, putting on their cloathes again; but all with such art, asDoria
confessed, that Sculpture had never shewed any thing more perfect. He considered
also that the water, which was seen in the Bath, fell into it through two
Vases of Christall, which were held by two men, laid along on the brim of the
Bath and represented as Rivers use to to be painted: Out of one the Vases issued
hot water, and out ofthe other cold, to the end one might by that mixture find




that just mediocrity requisite for those that bath. After he had seen all these things,
the grand Visier made Doria go forth at a secret door, and pass down by a back
stair to one of the doores of the Hall; and though it be the custom ofthe Turkes
in generall not to be very costly in their dyet, yet as the Grandes do not use to follow the common fashion, so Ibrahim left not to be in that particular, as in all other
things. Doria saw in the middle of the Hall a great Persian Carpet extended on the
ground, with a Table-cloth after the manner of the Country, upon which were
set a many of silver Chargers, where in each of them were seen twelve great dishes
of that which we call the essence of porcelain, replenished with divers sortes of
meates; for it is the custom of the Turkes never to eat in any mettall; howbeit they
are not without great store of silver vessell, onely for magnificence; and indeed the
grand Visiers Cubbord of plate was so sumptuous, as Europe hath not a King that
can shew so fair a one. Doria then beholding that prodigious amass of Basons of
gold engraven, great Vases of sundry formes and of divers bignesses, Flaggons,
vvater Pots, and Cisternes of gold, vvith Lions muzles and Dolphins half imbost,
could not forbear telling Ibrahim that Isabella vvould dye for joy, if she certainly
knew at what rate he bought the possession of her; but the Bassa returning him no
other answer thereunto than a sigh, told Doria it was time to dine, that they might
afterwards go and take their leave of Soliman; that in the mean space, whereas
their exterior ceremonies were different, although their minds were not, he had
given order that he should be served in his chamber. Doria went out then of this
Hall, after he had observed, that the Persian Carpet was set all about with great
Cushions cloth of Gold, upon Carpets of the same stuff, for Ibrahim and the
Officers of the Empire which did eat with him, to sit upon. The Bassa would
have conducted his dear Doria to his lodging, but he would not suffer him, so
that he was constrained to leave him in the hands of an Italian slave, in whom he
confided for all things. These two friends were not long at meat, for at this time
love and friendship produced the same impatiency in them both; the Bassa came
into Doriaes chamber just as he was going out, having taken a resolution together
to go immediately to the Seraglio, that they might part away the night ensuing. The Italian slave assured the Bassa, that in the evening he should have
such an habit as Doria wore; for Ibrahim had caused him to quit that of a slave,
as soon as he was at liberty, and by the means of those Jews, of whom I have
already spoken, procured him one of the Italian fashion. They vvent avvay
then to the Seraglio, where being arrived, Ibrahim made Doria put on a
Turkish robe, no stranger being permitted to speak to the Sultan but with this
ceremony. The Bassa entred in first, to let his Highness know, that according to
his order he had brought his dear Doria; Soliman shevved himself much satisfied therewith, hovvbeit though he vvere somewhat impatient to see him, yet
would he for all that speak once more to Ibrahim without witnesses, wherefore he
caused him to pass along with him into his Cabinet, vvhither he vvas no sooner
come, but looking on our illustrious Bassa with eyes where generosity combatted
grief, and retaining the tears which kindness and amity would have shed in this
hard separation, he spake unto him with such obliging terms, as Ibrahim was not
long without partaking with him in his melancholy, so certain it is that passions
do easily pass from one spirit to another, as well in friendship, as in love. The Sultan having observed by the change of the Bassaes countenance, that his soul was moved, desired his pardon for having troubled his pleasure, and accused himself of inhumanity for not letting him part without shewing his grief, to the end he might not have excited his; but to excuse him in this encounter he was onely to consider, that the love he bare him was so strong, as he would with less pain divide with him his Empire, than be separated from him; that nevertheless he was generous enough not to repent him of the grace which he had granted him, albeit the execution of it was more difficult than he had thought it to be; but to comfort him in his absence, he prayed him not to take it ill, if he desired one oath more form him, which might assure him he would within six moneths return to Constantinople. Soliman had no sooner done speaking, but the Grand Visier, 






who never gave place to any man in generosity, cast himself at his feet, and protested unto him, that he would not depart before his Highness had testified that
he would rely on the word he had given him to return precisely within the time
prefixed; that he esteemed himself very unhappy in not being known to his Highness for that which he was, and that being neither base, ingratefull, nor a lyar,
he was for all that suspected of those three crimes by a Prince, for whom he
would sacrifise his life with joy, who reigned in his heart far more absolutely
than over his people, and who touched his soul with so much tenderness, as he
plainly felt that he could not turn his steps towards Isabella, without turning his
eyes towards Soliman. Ibrahim pronounced these last words with such earnestness, as the Sultan no way doubted but that he had truly expressed his heart;
he raised him up then in imbracing him, and promised him that he would live in
some quiet of this assurance of seeing him again; that in the mean time it was
not just to letDoria stay any longer without, and that therefore he should go and
fetch him in. Ibrahim obeying this commandement, called him at the door of the
Cabinet; as soon as he appeared Soliman spake to him in his own language for
I have already said, this Prince understood it perfectly, and made him such an
Elogium of our Illustrious Bassa, as caused him to blush more than once; he spake
of his valour, of his prudence, and of his conduct in great matters; finally he assured him, that he was as good a Generall of an Army, as he was a good and faithfull friend; he told him further, that he desired him to receive his friendship as
he already possessed his, having begun to love him as soon as Ibrahim had made
known to him, by the recitall of his adventures, what his merit was, and the affection which he bore him; moreover, that as all the interests of Ibrahim were his,
so he gave him thanks not only for all the services he had rendred him, but for
all those which he should render him in time to come; and for a mark of the obligation wherein he would stand ingaged to him for it, he conjured him to accept of a Scymitar which he gave him, whereof the hilt and scabberd were all
covered over with Diamonds. Doria answered to all these things with all the respest that he owed to so great a Prince, and being fallen on his knees to receive
that precious gage of Solimans liberality, he was with a great deal of sweetness
and civility taken up by the Sultan, who prayed him to assure Isabella, that the
constancy of her Justiniano had been so firm during the time that he beleeved her to
be unfaithfull, as he durst swear for him, that he had never sought after, nor affected glory, but out of the hope of dying more nobly; he entreated him also to present her from him with a box of Gold, set with Emeraulds, which was filled
with two Chains, the first was of Diamonds of an excessive greatness, and the second of Pearls, so big, so round, so even, and so clear, that the Orient hath never
shewed us fairer. Ibrahim would have spoken to render Soliman thanks, and to
have made himself the bearer of that Treasure, but he imposed silence on him,
and sayd, that it would be enough for him to entertain Isabella with his own affairs, without charging himself with a complement from another. But at last
the Sultan being unwilling that Doria should see him capable of any weakness, and
feeling that this conversation could not long endure without his falling again into melancholy, he told the Bassa that he had given order unto the Tesqueregibassi, who is the Grand Signiors principall Secretary, to make up the Ambaassador
of Genouaes dispatch; that his Letter was conceived in such pressing terms, as that
Republique durst not refuse what he desired of it; that in the mean time, since he
must resolve to see him depart, he thought it fit that he should go and give order
to his affairs, to the end he might as soon as it was night repair to the Ambassador of Genouaes vessell, which he had caused to come from Pera to Constantinople,
and would attend for them at the Port. This sayd, he dismissed Doria, after he
had testified much affection unto him, and retained Ibrahim for one moment more
to take his last farewell of him; it was at this instant that Soliman shewed the
greatest marks of his good-will to the Grand Visier, since it is most certain,
that silent sorrows, though they be not so eloquent as others, yet are they at the
least more perswasive. When Doria was gone the Sultan imbraced Ibrahim, but



howsoever he forced himself, he could say no more, than go my dear Ibrahim, restore Isabella to life again, but when you shall have revived her, come and preserve mine. This discourse touched the Bassa so vively, as all the answer he could make was, that his return should quickly justifie his departure; after which Soliman made a sign to him to be gone. He went avvay then to his dear Doria, who stayed
for him in another chamber; in their way back they talked of nothing but great
Soliman; Doria was so satisfied of him, as he was constrained to confess, that he 
should want common sense if he were not charmed by the rare qualities of so excellent a Prince.  Ibrahim answered hereunto with so much melancholy, as Doria,
was fain to speak of the Princess to him for to draw him out of it; wherefore he
dextrously told him, that Isabella would be astonished at the present which she
should receive from him. At this sweet name Ibrahim began to take heart again,
and somewhat dissipating his heavyness, he turned all his thoughts to his departure.
As soon as he vvas at his Palace, he entred with Doria into his chamber, where having sent for the Italian slave, he understood by him, that his habit was ready;
whereupon he called the principall Officers of his house once more before him, and
told them that he was going to depart away upon that occasion wherewith he had
acquainted thera before, and therefore they should give order to the Porter of his
Palace, that he might not be troubled for the rest of the day, but to send such as
came about generall affairs to the Bassa of the Sea, who during his absence was to
deal for him: After this he commanded them to withdraw, and remained alone
with Doria, and the slave that had brought him his habit. Now the night beginning to approach, he held it time to think of parting, and this slave being of
counsell with them, was appointed by him to go and take that other of Monaco, and conduct him to the Port, whether they would come to them. Ibrahim
having put on his habit, took some Jewels with him, in case hee should
stand in any need upon the way by some unexpected incounter, and  perceiving it to be dark enough for them to go forth without discovery, he caused
Doria to descend by a back-stair, which brought them to a door that opened into
the Garden, the passage out of the which not being far distant from the Port, gave
them the commodity to get thither easily without being seen. And whereas Ibrahim knew precisely whereabout the Christian vessels lay, and espccially those of
Ambassadors, he went directly to the place, where he was attended for by the order
of the Tesqueregibassi, who when he gave the Ambassador his dispatch, had ordained him to be as soon as it was night at the Key, there to receive the two slaves
of whom he had been spoken unto him at such time as he had audience from his
Highness: According hereunto, Ibrahim (whom we will hereafter call Justiniano) after he had overtaken the slave of Monaco, found out the Ambassador, who waiting for him, received him and Doria with transports of joy that cannot be exprest; he could not comprehend how two men, who were beleeved to be dead so long before, should be met withall at Constantinople: But if his joy were excessive, that of our two friends was not less, for they knew him exceeding well, as being of the Illustrious family of the Lomelines. Justiniano thought then that he began already to breath the air of his country; but the place being nothing commodious to complement in, they embarqued themselves, and a little after, when the Moon was up they weighed Anchor, and hoisting up their sayls, they made towards the West, with so favourable a wind as the Art of the Pilot was almost unprofitable in this encounter. This prosperous beginning of Navigation made the Mariners to shout for joy, and gave them hope, that they should see the coast of Genoua ere it were long. But amidst the common gladness, Justiniano could not forget that he went from Constantinople without quitting it utterly, and that by an invisible chain, which retained him there, he was to return unto it a slave from Isabella; this troublesome thought for all that lasted not long, and his imaginations flattered him so sweetly, in making him see that he was every minute drawing near unto the Princess, as losing the sight of Constantinople, he also lost the remembrance of all his misfortunes, and abandoned himself wholly to joy.IBRAHIM, OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The First Part.The Fourth Book.NEver was voyage more prosperous, than that of Justiniano, ne- never did the winds more justly second the desires of the Pilot,
and never was the Sea more constant in calmness of weather,
than it was in bringing this Lover back again to the Haven,
from whence the tempest had driven him. But to favour the
impatience he was in to be with Isabella, let us only say, without particularizing his course, that after he was come to all the
Vessells, which the Grand Signior had caused to be arrested,
and drawn out of captiviy all the Christian Slaves which were found in the severall Ports where they touched, by vertue of an absolute power that he had from
the Sultan; after, I say, that he had passed the Archipelago, and left Ciprus on the
left hand, this prosperous Fleet arrived in a few dayes within sight of the Land of
Genoua: There it was where the Ambassador began to reap the fruit of his voyage,
by the pleasure he took in thinking that he was going to enter into his City, as it
were in triumph, by bringing thither again those so many Vessels which restored to
the People their kindred and friends, to the Nobility their children and their
riches, and to the Senate the Grace ofthe Grand Signior, and the lives of two Illustrious Citizens.  As for Doria, he felt that motion in his soul, which Nature
gives to all those who see their Country again after a long exile, and that not troubled by the unruliness of passions following without resistance the thoughts wherewith she inspires them; he had then an extreme pleasure, but yet it was a quiet
pleasure. But for Justiniano, it was not so with him, he did not look upon this
Land as the place of his birth, but as the residence of Isabella, and in an instant
he passed over again in his memory all that had arrived unto him there; and his
transport was so great, that joy produced some effects of grief in him; he changed colour divers times, he was unquiet and musing, and if Doria had not forced
him to speak, and express his minde by his discourse, it was to be doubted in beholding him, whether it were hope, or whether it were fear, that agitated his
soul; whether he regretted Constaninople, or desired Genoua; so certain it is that
violent passions pervert the use of the senses. Tears, which ought not to be but
the marks of sorrow, serve sometimes for joy; and silence, which seems so proper
for sadness, is often the effect of an extreme pleasure; but as we come to one and
the same place by divers wayes, they were made contented by different causes,
and expressed their joy in severall manners. In the mean time they came still
neerer to Genoua, but not holding it fit that Justiniano and Doria should enter into







the City before the deliberation of the Senate was known, the Ambassador caused
his Vessell to cast anchor three miles from Genoua, and going to pass into another,
after he had assured them that he would obtain their liberty, or be exiled with
them, he observed that Alphonso Spinola, Captain of one of those redeemed Vessels, and brother to him whom Justiniano had slain in defending Rhodolpho, hung
back, and would not follow him, whereupon he would needs know the cause of it;
but Alphonso, whose generosity was extreme, seeing himself obliged for his life, and
for his liberty to Justiniano, who during the voyage had testified unto him with
much resentment the grief he had had for the misfortune wherein he had been
ingaged; and knowing likewise that the death of his brother had hapned with
some justice, he besought the Ambassador not to think it strange if he did not attend upon him to Genoua, being absolutely resolved never to enter into it without
his Deliverer; that knowing his Father, as he did, he was well assured that he
would with all his power oppose them that would revoke the Sentence which had
been given against Justiniano; so that to hinder his violence, he purposed to write
unto him, that is he would have his sonne again, he must pardon his enemy; that
his fortune was conjoyned with his, and that he would never have such a reproach
laid upon him, as that a man, who had drawn him out of fetters, and brought
him back into his Countrey, should not injoy the liberty which he had given him.
Alphonso pronounced this speech with so much earnestness, as all that heard him
were ravished with his resolution; and Justiniano was so charmed therewith, that
not able to forbear imbracing him, and not suffering him to say more, he conjured
him that he would not force him to be ingratefull; that is nothing but his blood
would satisfie the revenge of his kindred, he would be most ready to shed it for his
sake, but having some hope to serve them more profitably in his person, when occasion should present it self, he would spare no care nor good office for it, so as it
might be done without offence to his honor; that he had performed a gallant action in desiring to stay with him, but that he should do an unworthy one, and full
of inhumanity if he should consent unto it; and that therefore it was more just,
that he should go and dry up his fathers tears, and moderate his fury by the joy
which his light would bring him, than to do a thing that would procure him his
hatred. Alphonso did not yeeld at first to the desire of Justiniano, but the Ambassador and Doria siding with him, he was constrained to submit to their sense, and to let
his inclination be overcome by anothers reason. These illustrious friends parted
with so much adoe, as if Doria had not perceived by Justinianoes watch, that the
time of the Senates Assembly pressed the Ambassador to depart, is he would have
audience as soon as he should arrive, they would have spent a great part of the day
in this noble contestation, whereof all the glory consisted in obliging his enemy.
But whilst this Fleet reasumed their course to aboard Genoua, let us go to the Port,
and see what the people think of it, and whether this agreeable surprize will make
them send forth shouts of joy in answer to those of the Mariners. As soon as these Vessells began to appear, a confused noise was heard amongst those that were present on the shore, whereby it appeared that they expected not so happy a success of their Ambassadors voyage; the one said that the Senate was to be advertised of it; others, that Merchants Vessells came not in so great a number together; some, that Pirats durst not approch in that manner if they were not followed by the body of an Army; and all of them together, that the best was to give intelligence thereof, to the end some might be sent to discover them; there were those likewise whose imagination was so troubled with fear, as they verily believed that they distinctly saw Turkish Galleys, and half Moons. In the mean time, whereas the Fleet came still neerer, they might easily discern, that it was the Standard of the Republique which these Vessells carried, the sight whereof dissipated their fear, but it took not from them their amazement, being not able to imagine how they should be so neer unto them, whom they believed ot be in chains and slavery; but at length the first of these Vessells being come to the shore, and the Ambassador, who was seen on the poop, being known of the people, which were already ga-



thered together in a very great number, and they no longer doubting but that
these vessells, which now they knew, brought them back both their brethren, and
their children, such a noise of acclamations arose on the suddain, as they all spake
without understanding what they said themselves, and without being understood
of others; wives called for their husbands; fathers inquired after their children;
some ran into the City to advertise their friends of it; others ran out of it with
their whole families; they in the Vessells cryed to let them know whether all were
well at home; at last so great a noise was formed of all these cries and murmures,
as the Ambassador had much adoe to make his orders be understood: He commanded all the Chieftaines to Accompany him to the Palace, and particularly Alphonso not to be far from him; they traversed the City in this sort, followed by the popular multitude, who ceased not from testisying their joy, both by their teares,
and by their acclamation. When they were at the Gate of the Palace, the Ambassador advanced three or four steps before his Troop, that he might the better surprise that honorable Company. At his first appearing they sought to know the success of his voyage in his face, but as soon as they perceived all the Commanders of
their Vessells, the gravest and most moderate amongst them could not chuse but
shew signes oftheir amazement, and joy; and when this first emotion was appeased, the Ambassador, having made a low obeisance to the Duke, and the like to the
whole assembly, began to speak in this sort.
The Oration of Antonio Lomelino to the Duke and
Senate of Genoua.
IF the prosperous succcss of my voyage had been an effect of my conduct, of my
care, and of my address, I should without doubt have had so much modesty
as to declare in few words the estate of things, for to attend from so honorable
an Assembly the praise which a service of such importance would have deserved,
without giving them to my self; and I should also have been so generous, as to
have been fully satisfied with the onely thought of having been profitable to my
Country; but whereas I have no part in the glory of this action, but contrarily I
my self am obliged for my life to the Deliverer of so many illustrious Slaves as
I have brought you back, and which are all, either your kinsmen, or your
friends, it behoves me, both that I may not be ingratefull in my particular, and
that also I may keep you from being so in generall, to report fathfully unto
you how the matter hath past, to the end that by understanding all the circumstances you may the better know, how it is the interest ofthe Republique, which
makes me speak with so much earnestness.
You are to understand then, my Lords, that whereas the Emperor Soliman believed, that the Law of Nations had been violated in the person of his Chaoux, he
thought that he might doe the like in that of your Ambassador, so that as soon as
I was arrived at Pera, and that according to the custom I had demanded audience
of his Highness, I saw my self constrained to pass by his order from my Vessell into
a streight prison, without telling me the cause therof, in such sort as he that came
to obtain the liberty of others, saw himself deprived of his own, and laden with
chaines. I was two dayes intreated in this manner with a great deal of rigor, and
I very well perceived by the countenance of them which guarded me, that they
believed my head was the onely price of my liberty. As I was in this unquietness I
saw the Aga of the Janizaries enter, who caused me to be told by Dragoman ofthe
grand Signioes, whom we call an interpreter, that his Highness willing to give me
audience had commanded him to conduct me to Constantinople without any ceremony; this mutation surprised me somuch the more, for that I could not imagine the
cause of it, having been well enough informed, that Soliman doth not easily change
his resolutions, and that repenting is a motion of the soul which is almost unknown to him: In the meantime I beheld my fetters broken off, without seeing



the hand that delivered me, and in this uncertainty I attributed that to the inconstancy of Fortune, which I owed her not at all. But, my Lords, why should I longer conceal this mighty and generous hand which hath delivered me? The impatience which I see in your looks, to know the name of our Deliverer, invites that 
also which is in me to tell it you; wherefore I must interrupt my order, and without going to Constantinople to paint forth unto you the resentment,the choler & the
menaces of the Sultan, I say unto you, that he unto whom you ow the return of
your vessell, the lives of your children, and the peace of this Republick, was not
carried to this brave action by a sense of acknowledment; it is a man who could
have revenged himself, instead of serving you, without committing an injustice;
it is a man whom you have exiled because he withstood a violence; it is a man
whom you have chased away because he had been so generous as to save his enemies life; it is a man whom you have banished because he shed his blood to take
part with the vveaker, and vvho by misfortune killed one of your Citizens, not
only to secure his ovvn person, but to assist an undefended man; finally, my Lords,
it is by Justiniano that vve are living; it is by him that vve breath the air of our
Countrey; it is by him that vve do not see an Army of an hundred thousand men
at your Gates; and it is also by his liberty, and that of Doria, vvho is conjoyned
to his fortune, that you may pay our ransome, as the only price which great Soliman hath set to redeem us: It is in preserving this illustrious person that you may
preserve the glory of the Senate; and it is upon this condition, that according to
the power which I had for it, I have ingaged the Publique Faith for the revocation of a Sentence which you signed with regret, and which you accorded rather
to the tears of Philippo Spinola, whom I see here in this renowned Company, than
to Soveraign equity: It is not because I will condemn in him the apprehensions
of Nature, but contrarily I purpose to stir them up in his heart, by letting
him see that if by misfortune Justiniano hath deprived him of one sonne, the same
Justiniano hath restored him another, in bringing him back Alphonso, who
with tears in his eyes begs of him by my mouth the grace of his Deliverer.
They which are sensible of outrages ought to be so likewise of benefits, especially
when injuries have not been done by a premeditated malice, and the services are voluntary: one may tell me peradventure, that the satisfaction should at leastwife be
equall to the crime, for the defacing of it out of an incensed spirit, and that Justiniano having taken away the life of a child of Philippoes, it is not enough for obtaining the pardon thereof, that he hath restored his only sonne to his liberty; but
grant it were true, that Justiniano had done no other thing that break the chains of Alphonso, this objection could not be received but by base and weak fouls; it being most certain, that a generous man will always prefer the conservation of his liberty before that of his life: It is a good so generally known of all the world, as there is no Nation that hath not made war to conserve it. The most honourable
Servitude hath ever found some rebellion in the minds of those who have imbraced it; and if the Religion which we profess, did not prohibit us, from disposing of our selves, there is not a Slave amongst the Turks that would not make himself away with joy, to get out of the miseries which he indures; for if one hath seen at other times both men and women to have recourse to this extreme remedy, because they were for one day only to follow the Chariot of the Victorious, bound with chains of gold, what ought not men do, who laden with irons are sent to the prisons of the black Sea, where it may be said that they enter alive into their graves, being put into deep holes where horror and darkness, which always reign there, are the least of their pains? They feel the rigor of hunger, they are beaten and tormented in their bodies, yea and persecuted in their minds by the injuries and blasphemies which they daily hear from the mouths of their torturers: It is, my Lords, from this dreadfull place that Justiniano hath drawn out Alphonso to bring him back into his Countrey, for to speak the truth, he could not avoyd the feeling of the miseries which I have represented unto you, or of dying cruelly; his Sentence was pronounced, as well as of that of his companions, and if we had



tarried but one day longer before we arrived at the place, where he was retained,
Solimans Order had come too late to work that which he had formerly given, and
the succour of Justiniano had been in vain; Now I leave it to be judged, whether
the reparation be equall to the crime, and whether Philippo hath reason to oppose
the return of Justiniano. But not to conceal one important thing that may lead
him to a good sense, I must say further, that Alphonso, who cannot be worthily enough praised, and whose presence keeps me from speaking more of it, knowing
how far he is obliged to Justiniano, is absolutely resolved to follow the fortune of
his Deliverer; it is by his order that I speak, and his silence doth sufficiently prove
this verity unto you; it is not but to confirm what I say that he is come hither, & to
obey Justiniano, who would not let him stay with him as he desired. At last, my Lords,
is Philippo will preserve his son he must joyn his prayers to those of all the people,
who conjure you to accord the grace of him who hath filled your City with abundance, & all the families of Genoua with joy; all the acclamations of gladness, which
you hear at the Palace gate, speak to you for pardon and mercy; but if you oppose the
severity of the Laws to prayers so just, so pressing, and necessary for the publick tranquility, I have to answer you, that it is not to offend them, but to satisfie justice,
which ought to be the rule of them; and that the same Lawes, which will have
a crime punished, will also have vertue recompenced. Is there be need of examples of Sentences that have been revoked, all antiquity will furnish us therewith:
Aristides was banished by the Ostracisme, and repealed within three yeares after;
Cimon was exiled from Athens, and intreated to return, even by those that
had driven him away; at Sparta one Leontidas was used in the same manner; amongst the Lacedemonians. Philoxenus had the same fortune; and if we will go to
Rome, we shall find, that Seneca was banished by Claudius, and called home again by
him for some praises which he had given him in a letter of consolation, that he
wrote to Polibius his favorite; judge now my Lords, whether flattery spoken
with a good grace may enter into comparison with the service that Justiniano hath
rendred you. But to pass from antiquity to the modern age, have we not
seen amongst the Venetians Hortensio Contarini condemned to a perpetual banishment, who returned into his Country a little after with the same honors which
he formely had there? And without going to seek for authorities amongst our
neighbors, which we may find amongst our selves, hath not one seen Antonia Fregoza exiled for ever from his Country, who nevertheless was by a decree from the
Senate restored to his former liberty in Genoua? I could also find many other
particulars in History to confirm my proposition, but I think it may suffice, that
Greece and Italy have marked you out the way, which you may follow without
fear of sailing, after so many Illustrious examples. Howbeit you will peradventure
say, that albeit you could infringe your Lawes in favor of Justiniano, because  he
hrth done you such great services, yet Doria cannot pretend to the same grace, seeing he himself oweth his liberty to our Deliverer; but I am to answer you for the
glory of this disinteressed friend, who hazarded his life, by a generosity without
example, to revenge the outrage which the Prince of Masseran did to Justiniano,
that this action scemed so gallant to Soliman, when as Justiniano recounted it unto
him that he hath judged Doria worthy of his protestion: Besides do you not imagine that the interests of these two illustrious persons can ever be separated. And
to tell you all that I think in this incounter, prepare your selves to execute what
I have promised, or resolve to lose at the same instant all the commanders of your
Vessells, who have every one, as vvell as my self, solemnly sworn never to enjoy
the liberty vvhich Justiniano hath gotten us, unless he be partaker of it vvith us.
As for me, vvho doe certainly knovv of vvhat importance this affair is for the publique good, I should think that I should betray my Country, is I should conceal the
eagernes vvhich I observed in the mind of Soliman, when as he told me that one of
his slaves having found grace in his fight, had besought him to pardon us; and that
he had consented thereunto, provided that you should revoke the Sentences, which
you had given against Justiniano and Doria; wherein isfyou failed, he swore in fury,





that he would come with all the forces of his Empire to destroy our Republique. It is no longer then, my Lords, a partiuclar interest; it is no longer the merit of Justiniano, htat is to be considered in this occasion; it is not for the hope of brave things that he will do hereafter, that this grace is to be accorded him; it is not for our ransom that he is to be received with joy; it is not because I have promised it that it is to be resolved on; it is not because reason doth counsell it; it is not because justice doth ordain it; but it is because necessity will have it so. You will say to me, it may be, that the success of this War would still be doubtfull, but, my Lords, if you consider the inequality of your forces you will not doubt at all, especially in a time wherein all the Princes of Christendom are not in a condition to assist their Allies. Shall it be from the Emperor that you will be protected in this occasion, who finds himself too much intangled in the War with the Protestants, and in the affaires of the Councell of Trent, for to think of yours? Shall it be from the Kingdomes of Naples and Sicily that you look for succor, that they are exhausted both of men and money for the Emperor their Master? Shall it be from the Switzers, or the Grisons, that we shall be assisted in this incounter, they that are ingaged in all these Warres,   
and that are more likely rather to side with the
stronger party, than to succor the weaker? It may be that the French will furnish
us with that vvhich we cannot find elsewhere, but, my Lords, were they not in War
with the emperor, yet would they see us perish with joy, and the Armies of the
Turks could not doe that amongst us, which they would not do here with theirs, if
they were in an estate to be revenged on us for our changing. You will tell me further, that the Republiques of Florence, Siena and Lucca are not so far of,
but that one
may be succoured from them, but they are so ingaged in those two parties, as they
have not the liberty to dispose of their forces. The Duke of Savoy might also do
something for you if he were peaceable in his State, but he himself is so busied
in preparing to hinder the passage of the French, as he cannot minde the extremities of his neighbors. I know very well in like manner, that England is full of
armed men, but, my Lords, it is not to defend us, nor will Queen Mary abandon
the siege of London, which is to put her in pofsession of her Kingdom, to come
and oppose our enmiies. Neither will Scotland disfurnish her self of her men
or War, having such mighty Armies at her frontires, wherefore we are not to turn
our eyes that way. Poland, Hungary, and Moscovy, are too near unto the Turk for
to imbroil themselves with him. And Sweathland and Denmark are too far off for
any succor to be hoped from thence. At last, my Lords, to leave nothing unsaid,
the death of Julius the third, and of his successor, salling out in so little a time,
permit not his Holiness, who is not yet well established, to think of affaires abroad.
And to take all hope from you, the Venetians, desiring to conserve that which they
hold in the Archipelaglo, will not break the Treaty they have made with the Turk
to succor you. You see then, my Lords, that all Christendom doth abandon you,
and that there is nothing resting in you choice, but the burning of your City, and
the utter destruction of this State, or the return of Justiniano and Doria. But to
justifie the ardor of my Zeal, and to mak it appear, that my fear is not without
ground, I do here deliver into your hands the Grand Signiors letter, which it may
be will carry you more easily to my sense, and reason.
This oration was heard by the Senate with a great deal of attention, amazement and joy; and when the Duke had taken the Grand Signiors letter, he commanded an interpreter to come and expound it; in the mean time a confused voice
arose in this Assembly, which made Philippo Spinola conjecture, that the grace of
Justiniano would soon be granted: Never was there heart agitated with so much
violence, and whereas this man was sensible and generous, the designes of pardoning or punishing so equally divided his soul, as not knowing vvhich side to turn him
to, hee seemed to seek for in the eyes of Alphonso vvherevvith to fortifie his reason.
He vvept all at one instant both for grief and tenderness, the remembrance of the dead, and the return of the living, excited in his mind, both a calm and a tempest, and in this disorder of passions, and apprehensions of nature, vvhich combatted




one with another, and successively destroyed themselves, he was going to be the
prey of despair and sorrow, had not the sight of his Sonne been at length found
more powerfull, than the image of his past misfortune: He knew so distinctly the
sense of Alphonso by the motions ofhis face, as being ashamed to be less generous
than he, he let his resentment be surmounted by so noble an example, which presently appeased all the troubles of his spirit; so that feeling himself in a more
peaceable estate, and seeing the Duke about to speak, he to prevent him besought
him with teares in his eyes to restore that unto Justiniano, which his prosecutions
had taken from him; it being just, since he had rendred him a sonne, that he should
render him his liberty. This discourse so ravished the whole Assembly,that contrary to their custom, and the respest of the place, they sent forth cries of joy,
which did not cease very soon; but amongst the rest the young Count of Lavagna,
together with Alphonso, who were present, thought they should never have been
silent again; the first could not sufficiently commend this action, and the other
could not forbear saying, that he was more obliged to his father for vanquishing
himself, than forgiving him life. But after every one had praised Philippo as
much as he deserved, they betook them to their places and gravitie again, for to
hearken to the Letter, which the Interpreter expounded in this sort by the commaandment ofthe Duke.
I that am by the grace of the most High, and by the abundance of
Miracles of the Chief of his Prophets, Emperor of the Victorious
Emperors, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Distributer of
Crownes and Scepters to thegreatesi Princes and Monarches of
the Earth: The servant of the two most Holy and Sacred Towns
of Mecca and Medina: Lord of Europe, Asia, and Africa,
Conquered with our Victorious sword and dreadfull Lance, to
the Duke and Senate ofthe Republique of Genoua.If one of our Slaves had not found grace in our fight, we should soon have made
you feel the force of our terrible sword, and our clemencie had not returned you, as
it hath done, your Vessells, your goods, your people, & your Ambassador; but is upon
condition that you cause the sentences to be revoked, which were given against Justiniano, and against Doria, and that they may fully enjoy their liberty, and their
goods, as heretofore: For otherwise be you assured, that with all the power of our
flourishing Empire, our Highness will come, and abase your pride, make himself
be obeyed in Person, and destroy your Republique.
Given at our Imperiall City of Stambol, in the year of Egira nine hundred and
sixty, the twelvth day ofthe month Ramadham.
This Letter inspired all them that heard it with fear, justified the Ambassadors
zeal and confirmed all the Assembly in the resolution to receive Justiniano, as the
Deliverer of the Republique; so that when the Duke had propounded the matter,
and that according to the custom he should have gone to collect the voyces in particular they sayd all, that in affairs where opinions might be divided, it was
good to hold that course, but now, that the whole company had but one and the
same voyce they were not to amuse themselves about this superfluous ceremony;
it being fitter to go with all speed, and assure Justiniano and Doria, that they were
still Citizens of Genoua, for fear left they should by this retardment imagine, that
they had been hardly drawn to sign their grace. They advised then what order





they were to hold, and they judged, that to take away all suspition from Justiniano, they were to send him a publique Act, signed by the Duke and all the Senate, whereby he should be assured of the recovation of his sentence: but the Ambassafor having told them, that Justiniano would rely on his word, they changed their purpose, and commanded Jannetin Doria to take a Galley in the Port, for to go and receive him as far from the Citty as possibly he could: They ordained also that the Ambassador should put himself in a Feluca, to the end he might go before, and advertise Justiniano that he was attended with impatience, and should be received with joy. And whereas it was resolved that some should accompany Jannetin who represented Andrea Doria his Uncle, that was Generalissimo, and absent from Genoua at that time, the Count of Lavagna would be one of them, that he might renew his acquaintance, for he was not much more then a child when Justiniano went away. The Commanders of those vesself whom he had redeemed, would
not go home to their houses before they had conducted their Deliverer into their
Citty, to the end that as in the antient Triumphs, the Victorious were followed by
the Princes whom they had vanquished, so Justiniano should be accompanied with
the Citizens which he had delivered, but with this glorious difference, that the one
touched them with compassion which looked on them, and that the others inspired
all them that beheld them with joy, the former were freemen that were made slaves,
and these were slaves to whom liberty was given: And if heretofore at Rome he was
crowned with glory that saved the life of a Roman Citizen, what crown, and what
glory was notJustiniano worthy of, who by his generosity hindred not onley the
death of so great a number of men, but the utter destruction of his country?  And
indeed he was received with so many acclamations, as never was so universall a joy
seen in Genoua before.  This while the Ambassador being set forth in a Feluca with
Alphonso and some others, and having a good way out-gone Jnnetins Galley, made
with all speed to Justiniano, who since they parted from him had scarcely spoken
to Doria, so much was he taken up with the thought of Isabella. As soon as they
were near enough to be understood, they began to talk to him of triumph and
glory, not having the patience to stay till they were aboord the vessell to let him
know the happy success of their voyage. Doria answered this interrupted discourse
with cryes of joy; but Justiniano made it appear by the moderation of his, that
his liberty was not the term of his desires; he received his friends for all that with
a great deal of civility, and without attending their further relation, he would
have rendred them thanks for their care and affection, but they had too much to
say to permit him to speak. The Ambassador would have discharged the Senates
Commission; Alphonso would have acquanted him with the generosity of his father; another would have described unto him the extasie of the people; and mauger the coldness of the Nation, the impatience they were in to speak all together,
made a confusion amongst them, which yet kept not Justiniano from clearly perceiving, that his generosity was acknowledged, and his grace signed. But whereas the Galley still approached, Justiniano sayd, that it was not just they should stay
from going to meet those Illustrious friends, who came to restore him to life, in
restoring him to his liberty: He commanded them to weigh Anchor, which being
presently executed, they made towards the Galley, that, carryed along with sayls
and oares, reached them in a little space.  There it was where Justiniano felt an extraordinary emotion upon the sight of the young Count of Lavagna, whom the
Ambassador shewed unto him; he whose father had alwaies been the protector of
his house:  This sight gave him a great deal of joy, but mingled with grief, by
the remembrance of Sinibaldoes death:  Now as soon as his vessell came close to
the Galley, he instantly, without attending Jannetins order, leaped form the hatches into her, and after he had complemented with the Delegates of the Senate, he embraced the Count with so much testimony of affection, as it was easie to know, that absence destroyes not a friendship, which is solidly established in a generous soul; for at the very time when he rejoyced to see him, he lamented his fathers death. The Count on his part assured him that he would have the same respect




for him as Sinibaldo had had; and conjured him to shew him the same favour. On
the other side Doria, though he were not well satished with Andrea Prince of Melphi, nor with Jannetin his Nephew, yet carryed he himself curteously unto him,
and then went and received the civilities of his friends. During all these caresses,
Jannetin desiring to give some mark of esteem and joy to Justiniano, caused a largess to be distributed amongst the slaves, to the end they might row with the more
speed. Justiniano received this gallantry very civilly, and withall assured the
slaves, that when he came home he would remember that they had brought him to
the Port, as accordingly he sent them the next day two thousand Crowns. As
soon as they approached to Genoua, all the vessels that were in the Port, having
received a commandment to shoot off all their Cannon when Justiniano should appear, failed not to salute him; the Galley answered them with four peeces of
Ordnance, and a volley of Musket-shot, and the like did all that were on the
walls. If one would describe the number of Citizens that were at the Port, the
acclamations of joy, the thronging that was there to see these resuscitatcd men,
the tumult that was amongst them in striving who should come nearest to their
Deliverer, it would almost take up a volume that should treat of nothing else; it
were better then, that amidst this popular crowd we should conduct Justiniano to
the Senate, followed by the Count of Lavagna, Jannetin, Doria, Alphonso, and all
the Commanders of the vessels, as also the slave of Monaco, whom Justiniano had
enjoyned not to budge from him.  When first they appeared, the Duke out of more
than an extraordinary favour advanced to receive him, after which he appointed
all the Senators to take their places, and then commanded the Register of the Senate to deface the Sentences which had been pronounced against Justiniano and Doria, and to read the abolition of them, which was conceived in such gentle and
advantageous terms, as it plainly appeared, that even their crime deserved more
glory than punishment: The reading whereof being ended, the Duke began to assure Justiniano in the name of the whole Assembly, that after they had satisfied the
pleasure of Soliman, yet held they not themselves for all that acquitted towards
him; that the Senate in generall, and they all in particular, were resolved not to
stay there, but to testifie unto him with more utility,  that they were not worthy of the benefits they had received from him; that they desired him also to raze
out of his memory, as he was razed out of their Records, the remembrance of
the sentences which had been given against him and his friend. To this Justiniano
answered, that in banishing him they had satisfied Justice, and that in repealing
him they had rather shewed their clemency than their equity; that the service
which he had rendered to the Republique, was not considerable, seeing he had
done it but to satisfie his duty; and that also, in acknowledgement of the grace it
had done him, he swore solemnly alwaies to hazard both his fortune and life for
the interest and glory thereof, so often as occasion should present it self for it:
This sayd, he turned him to Philippo Spinola and intreated him to pardon Alphonso for his friendship towards him, and to beleeve that it could never have
found place in his heart, had he not perfectly known during his voyage, that the
death of his brother had made him shed more tears, than he had lost bloud; that if
his generosity would permit him utterly to deface out of his mind the resentment
of that unlucky accident; he besought him to adopt him for his sonne, and to attend from him the same services, and the same obedience, as he could have desired
from him of whom he was so unfortunately deprived; but is that contrarily
the apprehensions of Nature did still invite him to revenge, he promised to banish
himself voluntarily; and if that were not yet enough, he would submit to the
greatest rigor of Justice.  Philippo was so moved with this discourse, as is he had
not already signed ihe grace of Justiniano in consideration of his son, he could not
have forborn doing it, and embracing him; so true it is that vertue hath powerfull
charmes for a generous soul. That venerable old man answered him with teares in
his eyes, that he would never oppose Alphonsoes friendship to him; that it was too just to be condemned; that owing him his life, and his liberty, he owed him all
 things; & that not being so unreasonable as to remember an injury, & not remember





benefits, he assured him that these last should take from his minde all the bitterness of the other; that he would receive him: for his sonne; that he would have all the tenderness of a Father for him; and that all the satisfaction he desired of him was, that he would forget his prosecutions, and his hatred, and pardon them to an afflicted Father. There past besides so many obliging speeches between them, as all that were present had much adoe to retain their teares; but at the last the Duke arising, all the Assembly did the like: Then it was that they imbraced Justiniano, every one striving who should come soonest unto him to testifie his joy; after which the Count of Lavagna carried him home to his house, there to abide till his own was made ready to receive him, for he had been Administrator of it ever since the death of Sinibaldo, unto whom the Father of Justiniano had left his
estate to conserve it for his sonne; and though all the world beleeved that Justiniano was no longer alive, yet had not the Count changed the order of his affairs, being absolutely resolved not to confer his estate upon his heirs, before he vvas certainly assured that he was dead. As for Doria, theCount could not get him to go
along with him, though he would have been glad to have past the rest of the day
in the company of his friend, but his kinsmen carried him much against his will
away with them, having first conducted Justiniano as well as all the rest, to the
Counts Palace, where every one departing, except some few whom he retained at
dinner with Justiniano, he led him to the chamber of Leonora his wife, who received him with a great deal of curtesie, and so did Sophronia, Leonoraes sister, which
was there with her. But as soon as civility permitted him to retire, he turned
all his thoughts to Monaco; and vvhereas he saw that the neccssity of good manners
would hold him three or four days at Genoua to receive and to return the visits of
his friends, he resolved to send thither the same day, the rather for that he judged
it fit to understand the Princesses pleasure before he went to her; he proposed his
design then unto the Count, and desired him to let him have one of his servants
for to execute it, and to put into his hands the Princesses Officer, whom he had found
a slave at Constantinople. The Count could not refuse him so just a request, but only told him that he vvas to dine first; Whilst they vvere at table their conversation
vvas no other than asking Justiniano questions concerning his fortune, vvhereunto
he still ansvvered vvith so much address, as without saying any thing against the
truth, he discovered nought that might prejudice him; hovvbeit he recounted unto them his grief and despair, vvhenas he believed in Germany that Isabella had
maried the Prince of Masseran, as also that having taken a resolution to die , he
vvent and irabarqued himself upon the Baltique Sea; that there he was made a slave
was carried to Constantinople,and given to the Grand Signior, vvhere Doria arrived afterwards by an adventure almost like to his; that his good fortune had so
vvrought, as his Highness having found something in his person, which touched
his inclination, his slavery had not been very hard, is his Friends, his Mistress
and his Religion had not been obstacles to his felicity ; but he would not let them
know that he had been Grand Visier, nor how in that Charge he had mightily served Christendom, for fear lest this action should have been ill interpreted by them,
that could not dive into the bottom of his heart. Dinner being done, Justiniano
desired the Count to permit him to go and write in his Cabinet before he was
hindered by company, which no doubt would be with him ere it were long. The
Count, who was not willing that his own pleasure should destroy that of his
friend, opened him the door, and told him, that he was insinitely obliged to the
Princess of Monaco, who, ever after she had power to dispose of her self, had been
sought unto by all the Princes of Italy, without so much as once harkning unto
them; but that contrarily she had openly published, how she had resolved to renounce
the world as soon as she certainly knew that he was no longer in it; that
she had often had business at Genoua, where her presence was necessary, but would never come thither, so much did she fear the sight of them that might condemn her resolution. Justiniano was so ravished with the constancy of Isabella, that if the Count had not left him for to return unto the company, this talk had kept




him a long time from drawing up his Letter; but in the end after he had written
all that which his respect, his joy, and his passion had inspired him with, he gave
his packet to a Gentleman, whom the Count had assigned him for it; he prayed
him to go, and come again from Monaco, with all the speed that possibly he could;
and to add moreover to that favour the observing the actions of Isabella at such
time as she should understand of his return, and that she should see him, whom
he had sent her back; that Officer of hers too he caressed exceedingly, and assured him that he would acknowledge the pains which he had suffered for his consideration. Justiniano had no sooner ended his dispatch, but that all the illustrious persons of the City came to visit him, with an extreme impatience to learn
from his own mouth the success of his adventures. But whilst he is satisfying the
curiosity of so fair an Assembly, and telling them things which vve knovv as vell
as he, let us go and content ours at Monaco, and see with what eye, and in what
manner the Princess will receive the agreeable newes of her Lovers return. When
these happy Messengers arrived the next day at Monaco it was very neer night so
that although one of them belonged tp the Princess, yet was he not knovvn, nor
vvould he discover himself, the better to surprize her:  It vvas only told then to
Isabella, that a Gentleman from the Count of Lavagna, and another, vvho vvere
nevvly arrived in a Barque, desired to speak vvith her, and that they had order to
deliver their message to none but her self. She vvas at that time in her Cabinet
where she had shut up her self that day to read over all the Letters vvhich she had
received from Justiniano; she vvas vexed then to be interrupted in an imployment,
that made up together both her joy and her grief; she commanded notvvithstanè
ding that they should be brought in: But vvhen she came to knovv him, vvhom she
had sent to seek Iustiniano, she vvas so surprized, and so amazed, out of the opinion
she had that his voyage was in vain, as the apprehension thereof keeping her from
speaking, gave the Counts Gentleman opportunity to tell her, that Iustiniano had
given him in charge to present her with a Letter from him. This discourse revived her spirits for a vvhile, but fearing she had not understood him vvell, she made
that agreeable name vvhich touched her heart so sensibly, to be spoken to her once
again; vvhereupon the Gentleman told her, that the paper he had presented to her
vvould satishe her better than he could. She cast her eyes then upon the Letter,
vvhich assured her that it vvas Iustinianoes hand, so that in an instant she abandoned her self over vvholy to joy, and vvith an extreme precipitation broke up the
seal of the Letter for to read that vvhich follovvs here.The Letter ofIustinianoto the Princess of MONACO.AT Last fortune hath made a truce with me, and how constant soever she hath been
persecuting me, my love hath vanquished her cruelty, and forced her to permit me to
see you again. I know well, that the suspition which I have had of your fidelity, makes
me unworthy of this grace; but I know well also, that my cruellest enemies have pardoned me for it, and that you have a soul too generous not to do as much for a person that voluntarily accuseth himselfe of a crime, which in my opinion ts the greatest mark of love
that ever I have rendred you. If the possession of you had not been so precious unto me,
my resentment had not been so great; and if my passion had been less perfect, hate had
succeeded to my love: But to what transport soever that imaginary misfortune hath carried my mind, yet have you alwayes reigned in my heart. I have hated your inconstancy,
but I have alwayes loved your person; I have separated the crime from the criminall; I
would never have extinguished so fair a flame, but in extinguishing my life, and with the
most passionate sense that love can inspire into us, I have even adored you in the arms of
a Rivall, and conserved my soul entirely for you at that very time when as I believed I had
lost you for ever. After all this I dare hope, that my crime shall not be an obstacle strong
enough to keep you from according me the permission to come and render you an accompt of





my misadventures, to comfort me with your sight for my past miseries; to let me understand from your own mouth, that absence hath not diminished your affection; that mine is still considerable with you; and that at last you desire I should eternally be yourJustiniano.Never was their heart more replinished with joy, than that of Isabella, after she had read this Letter; nor never had an amorous spirit sweeter transports, than this Princess felt in thus understanding all at once the life, the return, and the fidelity of her Lover: But her satisfaction augmented yet more, when as she knew in what manner he had been received at Genoua, no way doubting now but that her felicity was setled for the rest of her life. After she had spent two hours at least in hearing these persons relate unto her what they had known concerning Justiniano, she gave order that they should be very well treated, and that the next morning the Counts Gentleman should repair unto her. As soon as she saw her self alone, she called a kinswoman of hers, which lived with her, and not able to contain her joy, she imparted the cause of it to her, but in such passionate terms, as it was easier to perceive, that she lived not so much in her self as in Justiniano: And that she might no longer deferr her answer unto him, she caused paper and ink to be brought her: but though she had a fertile wit, though she were accustomed to express her self very easily, and not to have any need to correct her first by her second thoughts, yet was it almost impossible for her to satisfie her self in this 
occasion: She could not conceive that the words of pleasure, of felicity, and joy, could
sufficiently express hers; that those of constancy and stedfastness were significant
enough; nor that those of passion, and love, were powerfull enough to paint forth
to Justiniano that which she had in her soul: Howbeit in the end, after she had
blotted out lines, and torn whole Letters, she was constrained to be contented;
and whereas it was late, she got her to bed without eating anything, notwithstanding her womans perswasion to the contrary. She passed the night in such agreeable thoughts, as albeit sleep be a sweet and a mighty enemy, yet could it not
for all that surprise the fair eyes of Isabella, so that as soon as the day appeared, her impatience caused her to command the fetching of the Counts Gentleman
unto her, hoping that the sooner he returned, the sooner she should see Justiniano;
and to oblige him to make hast, she sent him a Diamond worth five hundred
Crowns. This liberality failed not to make him diligent; hee came presently to the Princesses Chamber, both to render her thanks, and to receive
her commands: shee gave him her Letter, and desired him to present
her complements to the Count his Master, and to assure Justiniano that he was attended with a great deal of impatience. This Gentleman, according to Isabellaes desire, made all the hast that possibly he could to Genoua, where being arrived
he found Iustiniano ready to enter into his own house, accompanied with ten or
eleven of his friends, for the Count had been so carefull that no mark of his banishment should be remaining, as in two dayes it was thoroughly furnished. As
soon as he saw this Gentleman, he separated himself from the troup for to speak
with him, and receive Isabellaes answer, which he took with such a panting of his
heart, as is he had doubted that it had not been favourable. In the mean time the
Count perceiving Iustinianoes diforder, caused all the company to enter, by entering first himself, so that by this address he gave him means to steal aside to read in liberty the Princesses letter, which he opened with a great deal of respect, and found that it was thus.The Letter of Isabella toIustiniano.THe greatest crime that you are guilty of towards me is, that you came not to tell me
that you self, which you have written unto me; I know well notwithstanding that the
necessity of your antient misfortunes hath constrained you to carry your self in this sort; but
I am not ignorant also, that love is not accustomed to make such satisfaction to soveraign
reason; the desires, which it begets in an amorous soul, seem alwaies just unto it, and how
reasonable soever we be, it is a pain to us to condemn that which pleaseth us; find it not
strange then, if I should wish, that you had seen my first transports, they would have painted out so well unto you my fidelity, as I should no longer be troubled to assure you that
time hath not changed my heart; that death alone can break my chains; and that if I
had the Empire of the whole world, I would pray you to accept of it with as much affection, as I offer you my State: it is a reward which I ow you, and not a grace which I do
you; and the onely grief which I have at this instant is, to see that I can do nothing
whereunto I am not obliged; so that all that I can do in this encounter is, to protest unto
you, that did I not ow it to the life of my father, which you preserved; to the promise
which he made you of it; to that which you received from me; to so many miseries
which you have endured for my consideration; yet do I ow it to mine own felicity, seeing it
is certain, that I cannot be perfectly happy if I be not so with you: it is a necessity that
love hath impofed upon me, and which reason doth not disapprove of. Come then, my
dear Justiniano, to testifie unto me, that my hopes are not ill grounded, that your constancy is immoveable, that you still love your
Isabella.They who know, by experience the effects of love, will easily imagine that
which the sight of this Letter wrought in the soul of Justiniano; he had for all that
a domestique enemy, which went alwaies traversing his pleasures, by putting
him in mind that he was yet a slave at Constantinople, though he appeared a freeman at Genoua. In the mean time the Count sent him word how he beleeved he
had forgotten, that he was in his own house, and that it was he which was to entertain and honour his friends there. This reproach of gallantry obliged him to
go in unto them, who all left him a little after, except Doria, to give him liberty for
to think of his affairs; but whilst he was setling his house, the Count sent him all
the money which he had received of his estate in his absence, with order to his
Steward to render him an accompt of it. Justiniano was so amazed, both at his
own riches, and the generosity of his friend, as he had much ado to resolve to take
that which was his own; howbeit fearing to do an outrage to the Count, instead
of doing him a civility, he received his mony, but would not suffer the Steward
howsoever to particularise anything of his affairs; telling him only, that provided
he could assure him he gave him nothing of another bodies, it should suffice for the
making up of his accompt; that in the mean time to make some acknowledgment
for the care he had taken to enrich him, he gave him twelve thousand Crowns. This
man fearing a check from his Master, playd the generoso as much as he could,and labored exceedingly not to accept of a thing which he earnestly desired: but at length
he must obey the pleasure of Justiniano, who thinking of nothing but Monaco gave
order for the making him clothes against the next day; and not to lose time, after
he had desired the Counts Officer to provide him attendants, to make up his Train
with all possible care and speed, he went forth with his dear Doria to render the
most important of his visits, to the end he might the day following satisfie his desires. They imployed all that day then in ceremonies; they were at the Palace to
do their duty to the Dukc; they were at Andrea Doria's to visit Jannetin; they returned to the Count; and to be wanting in nothing Iustiniano would goe home to
Philippo Spinola, where he was received with so many testimonies of generosity,
both by the father and the sonne, as all his civility could not answer it. Evening bi-




ing come, he returned back with Doria, where he found a man attending him from
the Generalissimo, who being come home had understood of his going to Monaco,
and therefore had sent to assure him, that the next morning he should have a Galley
waiting ready to carry him thither. Justiniano accepted of this curtesie with a great
deal of respect, and prayed the man to let his Master know, that he would not part
away without thanking him for it: And whereas his amorous impatience made
him desire to be alone, that he might at the least think of the Princess, though he
could not yet see her, he was much surprised, and exceedingly vexed, to finde as
great a company in his chamber, as that which he had met with abroad; for although it was composed 
of none but his friends, yet would he fain have preferred solitude before their conversation; howbeit he must resolve to comply with them,
and hear a Serenado of Lutes and Voices which the Count gave him, upon remembring that he had heard say, how the first pashion of Justiniano had been by musick:
The Count also presented unto him a French Gentleman, whom he dearly loved,
and desired him to esteem of him for his sake, untill such time as he should make
himself worthy of it by the knowledge of his merit, which without doubt would
not be long first. This complement being finished, every one retired save Doria,
who would not abandon our Lover, untill he had restored him into the arms of
his Mistris. The night past away with a great deal of unquietness and impatience
for Justiniano; but whatsoever resolution he had taken to be gone by the break of
day, he could not get out of Genoua before it was almost noon. In the end he imbarqued himself in the Galley which had been prepared for him, taking no more
with him than his dear Doria, and some of the Counts people for to serve him: He
had at that instant so extraordinary a joy out of the thought that the term of so
short a navigation should be the sight of Isabella, as it reflected in his face, vvas seen
in his eyes, appeared in his discourse, shevved it self in all his actions; and one
would have thought, that he went out of slavery in going out of Genoua, and that
Monaco was not only the place of his birth, but that he was attended there to be
declared the Conqueror of all Nations, to receive the honor of a Triumph, and to
mount into a Throne; that he was also expected by the Princess for to be crowned,
not by the hands of fortune, but by those of love. And whereas he had not so much
ambition, as desire to be beloved, the Empire of all the Earth could not have given
him a joy so sensible, as that of the heart of Isabella. This Princess imagining rightly, that Justiniano would not be long before he came to see her, had given order at
the Port, that as soon as a Galley should be discovered from Genoua-ward, she
should be advertised of it, being perswaded that they would not let Justiniano come
in a Feluca; so that when he appeared, notice was thereof given the Princess, and at
the same instant all the wall was set on fire with a valley of Musquet shot; all the
great Ordnance likewise was discharged, the dreadfull noise whereof could not
keep Justiniano from being pleasingly assured, that those flames were an effect of
them which love had kindled in the heart of Isabella, who presently dispatched away the principall of her servants, and the most considerable of the Inhabitants of
Monaco, to go to receive him, and present him with the keyes of the Town-Gates.
This obliging ceremony so mightily surprised Justiniano, when it was done unto him, that he could hardly finde terms to express his resentment thereof, and the confusion whereinto his gallant and extraordinary a favour had put his spirit. He besought those that were sent from Isabella to excuse him, if he did not accept of that which they offered him, since it would not be just, that he, who would hold himself too much honoured to be their Princesses subject, should do an act of their Soveraign; that for the incivility which he committed in refusing a thing that came from her, he conjured them to conduct him where she was, that he might give her thanks, and crave pardon of her both at once. They were a pretty while in their dispute of curtesie on either side; but at last Justiniano remained firm in his resolution. They began then to take that winding way which leads to the Town, and where all the souldiers of the Garrison vvere ranged into tvvo files for him to pass



thorough the midst of them, and so he marched till he came to the Portall of the
Castle, where the Princess attended him.  When as first he appeared she advanced to receive him, so that to save her some stepps, and to follow his inclination,
he went as fast as possibly he could, and kissed her roab. It was at this instant
that those perfect Lovers felt that which cannot be exprest; and albeit they
had resolved on both parts to contain themselves, and had also prepared their
minds for the making of some complement to one another in this incounter,
their silence, and then their interrupted discourses, made it apparent to all
that beheld them, that excess of pleasure excited such a trouble in their soules,
as would not permit them to express all that they thought; but to conceal this
agreeable transport from the eyes of her subjects, the Princess caused Iustiniano to enter, after she had saluted Doria with a gteat deal of civility: When
they were arrived at Isabellaes chamber, all that had accompanied them were
obliged by respect to withdraw, two or three excepted, which remained to
entertain Doria, whilst the Princess talked with Justiniano. Never were two
hearts replenished with so much joy; never had two spirits more charming
transports; and never did two amorous persons so perfectly express the motions of their soules by their onely lookes; they said both of them together,
and at one instant, that they had alwaies loved one onother; that they still
loved one another; and that they would love one another eternally: But after this dumb language had made all their apprehensions to pass from one heart
to another, Justiniano began to render the Princess thanks for all her  goodness
towards him;  but she, not able to suffer the continuance of this discourse, conjured him to remember,  that their interests could not be separated, and that
owing him  all things it was unjust to thank her; especially having done nothing for him, than what she could not chuse but doe;  namely to weep for
his absence, to fear his changing, to apprehend his loss, and to renounce all
the pleasures of this life, since she could not have that of seeing him. Justiniano answered thereunto, that this necessity, which she had imposed upon her
self, was so fair a mark of her affection, and so glorious for him, that unless
he should be the most ingratefull of men, he was obliged to thank her eternally; As for the rest, her teares being of so inestimable a price, she must not find
it strange, if being unable to render her any service that could merit that
honor, he resolved at least to tell her often, that he knew well he was unwor-
of it.  This conversation was interrupted by the Sergeant-major of the Garison  who according to the commandment which the Princess had given
him for it, came to demand the word of Justiniano; this Gallanterie surprised him as pleasingly, as the former which had been done him upon his
landing at the Port; and as he was no less civill, than Jsabella was obliging,
he said unto her with a low voice, and beholding her with eyes full of love,
and respect, that a man, who knew not how to rule his desires, and that would
die her Slave, was not in a state to command others: But what reason soever he could allege, he must obey Isabellaes pleasure; yet was it not for all
that but upon condition, that she should give the word as well as he, and
that he should not, but after her, finish this mysterie of Warre, which at
this time was absolutely guided by love. For as is these two illustrious persons had agreed together about this gallanterie, the word, which the Princess
gave to the Sergeant-major, was found to be Justiniano; and that which
Justiniano gave, after he had long refused to doe it, was the fair name of Isabella. This conformitie of spirt and thought was equally pleasing unto them;
for though they knew not what each of them had said, yet did they understand
it by a complement between them; for Justiniano assured the Princess, that mauger her curtesie Isabella should reign still at Monaco; and the Princess assured
him, that mauger his modesty and resistance Iustiniane was Master of the Town. 
One part of the evening was spent in a sumptuous feast, which Isabella made




him in the great Hall of the Castle; and for the rest of it all their conversation
was nothing but promises of loving one another eternally; and joy possest
them in such sort, as there came not so much as one thought unto them of
their misfortunes. But whereas it was late, Iustiniano lead the Princess back
to her chamber, followed by Æmilia her kinswoman, and all her women;
as for him he was conducted by the Officers of Isabella to a lodging, which
she had caused to be prepared for him,  and where the riches of the furniture
made it appear, that she had omitted nothing for the receiving of him magnificently. The image of Isabella so fully possessed his mind, as that of Constantinople never came into his thought; the remembrance of what was past, nor the
fear of that to come, could not trouble his pleasures; and his present happiness so inchanted his reason, as without considering that this supreme felicity, occasioned by the sight of Isabella, would precipitate him ere long into an extreme misfortune, he past the night without any other unquietness, than that which he received by the impatience he was in to see
day, that he might see Isabella again. Doria was also conducted into a chamber which was little less stately than that of his
Illustrious friend, who to entertain himself more commodiously in his amorous fancies had
desired to lie alone.
IBRAHIM, OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The First Part.The Fifth Book.ISabella was no sooner awake but she thought of Justiniano, and
to entertain him with the more liberty, she sent to demand of
him by way of complement, whether he would be pleased to
go and pass away a part of the day in a fair Garden, which
the Princes of Monaco have on the Sea-side; and whereas
he had no other will than that of the Princess, he answered
him who came from her, that so as he might have the honor
to see her he would obey her with joy, her presence having
this particular charm, that she rendred all places alike agreeable unto him, because he never considered any thing therein but her. This
match being made, this fair Troop, as soon as dinner was done, began their walk;
Justiniano lent Isabella his hand for to support her down to the Garden, whither
one may easily go on foot, Doria did the like to Æmilia, and the rest of the women
together with the Princesses chiefest Officers followed after. Their journey being short, they quickly arrived whither they were to go; whereat first their talk
was of the beauty of the place, of the situation thereof, of the ornaments which
had been added to its naturall graces, and other indifferent things; but as soon as
the Princess had handsomly drawn Justiniano a pretty way from the Troop, she
conjured him to acquaint her with his adventures, and no longer to defer the satisfying her curiosity, in recounting particularly unto her all the circumstances of
a life wherein she had so much interest, as to make it thenceforward the felicity of
hers. This discourse surprized Justiniano at first, he would have excused himself for
that day, beseeching the Princess not to deprive him so soon of the delight he had
an hearing her talk; but at length, seeing that this reason did not content her, he
yeelded unto it. They entred then into a great green Arbor, which on the one side
looked towards the Sea, and whereas Isabella, being set down on a seat of green
Turf, perceived that Doria would out of respest have withdrawn as well as the rest
of the Troop, she stayed him, and said, that as he had been the testimony of their
first flames, it was but just that he should be so too of their last adventures: She made
him then sit down by Justiniano, and when the rest of the company were retired a
good way from Isabella, she summoned Justiniano to the performance of his word;
who, after he had besought her to pardon him, if the disorder of his fortune did
make some at any time in his discourse, began to speak in this sort.The Sequele of the History of Justiniano.THe cause of all my miseries being a crime which you have pardoned, I think
you will have so much goodness as not to oblige me to confess once more unto
you, that which I have written to you heretofore: I will not tell you then how after I had by an hundred apparent reasons confirmed my self in the belief that you lived no longer but for the Prince of Masseran, despair seized so strongly on my spirit, that death was the term of all my desires; but to get far away speedily from a place, where I could suspect the most constant person that ever was of infidelity, suffer me to tell you in few words, that quitting Germany, I imbarqued my self on the Baltique Sea, to seek out an honourable death in the war of Sweden; that on 
the way I was taken prisoner by Chairadin King of Algier, who sold me soon after
to the Bassa Sinan, which caused me instantly to be conducted to Constantinople, with
three hundred other Slaves, whereof he meant to make a present to the Grand
Signior. It is in that place. Madam, where fortune hath done such strange, and so
unlikely things, as albeit they arrived unto me, yet do I doubt many times,in thinking of my adventures, whether it be not an effect of my depraved imagination
that represents them so unto me, or a faithfull report of my memory; but not to
lose time in exagerating the phantasticalness of fortune, which hath been but too
well known by all Ages, and all Nations, and to give you an extraordinary proof
of it in my person, you shall understand, that after I was come to Constantinople,
laden with irons, as well as my companions, without any difference betwixt us,
but that they tried every day to break their chains, and that I bore mine with a
tranquillity of minde, yet melancholick withall, which made them perceive that
life and liberty were not the object of my desires; this knowledge which they had
of my apprehensions during the voyage, was the cause that they concealed from
me the resolution they had taken, when we were come to Constantinople, of killing
their Guard, that so they might save themselves ere they should be presented to the
Grand Signior; and they carried their design so well, as it was not discovered above two hours before it should have been executed. And whereas amongst the
Turks the desire of liberty is a capitall crime in a Slave, unless it be in paying a ransom for it, this enterprize being proved against them, the Bassa Sinan, a violent
man, and that saw how in one only night he was like to have lost three hundred
Slaves, without examining the circumstances of the matter, without distinguishing
the guilty from the innocent, condemned us all to be exposed to the cruellest punishment of that Countrey. This Sentence was received diversly, according to
the diversity of minds, but at last, though there were some generous souldiers amongst that great number of Slaves, yet heard they all this wofull news with grief:
As for me, who did not desire to live longer, because I saw my self constrained to
live without you, I belheld the end of my life as an assured port to shelter me from
all the storms wherewith I was agitated; so that though it had been easie for me
to have exempted my self from this perill, by letting the Bassa know what ransom I could have paid him, yet had I no purpose so to do. Howbeit this generall consternation indured not long, for the Bassa Sinan coming to consider that he could not satisfie his revenge and his avarice both together, resolved not to lose that himself which others would have taken from him; and therefore for examples sake only, he commanded that we should draw lots, and that the tenth part of our number should expiate the crime of the rest. This grace was received with joy by all the company; and albeit fear had still some place in their souls, yet was hope the povverfuller, and perswaded them all in particular, that the misfortune should not fall upon them: In the mean time the lots were drawn, and chance having decided the matter, I was of the number of the thirty that were to die. It was then that I well observed, how human weakness is the cause why every one is in some sort comforted by having companions in his misery; for when we were all condemned, I 




saw nothing but tears of sorrow, but as soon as the lot had separated the fortutunate from the infortunate, these last changed their sorrow into rage and choler so transported them, as they could not endure the sight of them that were delivered: Yet was it not they whom destiny reserved for this supreme disgrace; for
the Bassa having moderated his fury, would have our lives once more depend absolutely upon the caprichiousness of fortune; he ordained then, that of thirty
which we were, no more than three should suffer; and the lot so favoured the desire I had to die, that I was one of those unhappy men, according to the sense of
others, though in mine own heart I was of a contrary opinion. The two that proved
my companions in this sad adventure, were without doubt the worthiest of all the
slaves, they were young, handsom, and courageous, and even such as the very Excutioners themselves, who were to take away our lives, had some regreet to
see, that chance had made a choice so unjust according to their thinking, so that
one of them moved with compassion, went and advertised the Bassa, that in losing
us he would lose the properest slaves that were in Constantinople, and the fittest to
make a present of to his Highness. The Bassa, who repented him already of his
violence, in regard of his own interest, and yet desired that some one of us should
be punished, resolved at length for the last cast, that of we three but one should
dye, and that according to the first order, chance should still be the absolute master
of our life or of our death. The lot was not more favourable to me in this last
incounter, than in all the former, and I was the sacrifice destined for the publique
s fety; I was then presently bound more straitly than before; they made me my
self carry the preparations of my puniihment; and without boasting I can avow,
that I faced death with tranquillity enough: I dare not almost say, that in this
wofull estate you were the only object of my thought, yet it is true how I imagined, that this obstinacy of fortune, in chusing me still to be sacrifised, was an effect
of your desire, and that she did not judge me unworthy to live, but because you
judged me unworthy of your affection. In the end I received this sentence, as if
it had been pronounced by you, and in that thought I went to my punishment with
so much resolution, as bred wonder and compassion in them that beheld me. As
for my self, I was far from being afflicted at mine own proper miseries; I had
some delight in my fetters and chains; and the very sight of death could not keep
me from having some happy moments; for my love, doing its last and uttermost
indeavour, in following me to the grave, perswaded me, that is you had seen the
same Justiniano, upon whom at other times you had accumulated glory, be ready
to yeeld up the ghost in adoring you, with the most cruell torments that the rage
of tyrants hath ever invented, you would at leastwise have breathed forth some
sighs, and shed some tears. The Princess, not able to endure that he should continue this discourse any longer, so much trouble did this deadly image excite in her
soul, assured him with a great deal of tenderness, and her eyes full of tears, that
this narration touched her so sensibly, as albeit she could not doubt but that he
had escaped this perill, yet could she not chuse but be in fear for him, and feel such
a grief in her mind, as she was not able to express. Justiniano was no less moved
with the tears ofthe Princess, than she had been by his relation; and when he had
rendred her thanks for so generous an apprehension, Doria told him, that he could
not better acquit himself of that devoire, than to acquaint her by what inchantment he got out of this adventure. Isabella having testified by her action, that Doriaes impatience was hers, Justiniano prosecuted his History in this manner.  Since
your Excellency will know how I was delivered, I am to let you understand, that
to go from the place where my doom had been pronounced, to that where it was
to be executed, we were of necessity to pass by one of the faces of the Seraglio, and
my good luck would have it, that when we came to that part, the Sultana Asteria, great Solimans daughter, was leaning at a window, whereof she had pulled up the
grate, and seeing a far off the multitude of people which accompanyed me, and
who seemed by their carriage to take part with my misfortune, it chanced that she
cast her eye upon my face, and that she found something in it which begot a curio-




sity in her, whereupon she commanded them that conducted me to stay, and demanded of them what crime I had committed; I knew afterwards (for then I understood not the langauge very well) that one amongst them told her I was innocent, and recounted unto her by what mishap I was in that estate, by aggravating with a great deal of vehemency the obstinacy of fortune in chusing me still, and the constancy which I had shewed in this encounter. As long as this discourse lasted I observed that she considered me very attentively, so that perceiving by some words which I had already learned during the voyage, and by her gesture, that she spake of me, and that she pittied me, I saluted her with a profound respect. At length, Madam, the young Sultana Asteria was so compassionate and generous, that after she had asked, and knew of what Nation I was, she expresly charged them that conducted me, not to stir from thence till they had order from the Grand Signior her father. They, who knew both the rank and credit, which the Sultana had with Soliman, were carefull not to fail in obeying her; in the mean time she went to the Emperor her father, who was then very luckily in the old Seraglio, where she was, and which is not inhabited but by the Mothers, Sisters, Daughters, and Aunts of the Grand Signior: There she besought him to grant her the life of a slave, that was an Italian, and innocent, whom the Bassa Sinan had purposed to have presented unto him, but novv vvould put him to death onely to serve for an example. After she had obtained the effect of her prayer, she rested not there, for she reported so many things of my constancy and resolution to Soliman, as it begot a desire in him
to see me; so that sending a command to deliver me, I received order by a Trucheman to go unto the Grand Signior. To tell you, Madam, what this change
wrought in me would be to no end, since it is easie for you to judge, that he, who
so much despised life, received it not with much joy; and I dare say, that I stood
in more need of constancy to resolve to live, than another would have had to resolve to die: Howbeit I went to his Highness, and whatsoever aversion I had from
life, yet did I not forbear rendring him thanks for granting it to me. When first I
appeared before Soliman he began to speak to me; for whereas he knew before that
I was of Italy, he beleeved that I would understand a language, which at Constantinople they call the Franks toung, and spoken there by every one for the commoditie of commerce, and which also I understood persestly, because it is no other
than a corrupted Italian. It was not, for that this Prince, out of an extraordinary
curiosity proper to those of his Nation, is not acquainted, not onely with all the
Orientall tongues, but with the Spanish, the French, and the Italian; howbeit in regard he doth not exercise them, he understands them only, without being able to
speak them with facilitie: nevertheless I must for the present except the last, which
in consideration of me he learned afterwards very perfectly. It was then in that
language, wherof I have spoken, that he demanded of me whence I was, what was
my birth and profession, and by what adventure I came into the power of the Bassa
Sinan. I answered him that I was a poor Italian Gentleman, whose life had nothing remarkable enough wherewith to entertain so great a Prince; and that the
only chance of War had made me a slave at Argier, where the Bassa had bought
me not long after. I confess I had somewhat ado to disguise the truth, but being
resolved that I would never be heard spoken of more, I did not tell what I was,
for fear if it had been known, and that it had been discovered hovv I could have
given a sufficient great ransom, intelligence would have been sent to Genoua of my
being at Constantinople. Soliman told me then, that I had something in the air of
my face, that shewed me greater than I had delivered my self to be, and that all the
rules of physiognomy were false, or I had not spoken sincerely unto him. I received this dsscourse with a great deal of respest and modesty; after which he talked
to me of the customs of my country, of war, of fortifications, and when he perceived by my answers that I was not absolutely ignorant, though in this occasion I was
not forward to shew my self very knowing, or of any great wit; there is not any
good art, or excellent science, which he did not discourse with me about, for the
space of two hours that I had the honour to be with him. At last, Madam, this great




Prince was so satisfied of me, as he sent word to the Bassa Sinan, that having understood he meant to present me unto him with three hundred slaves, he remitted unto him not only his three hundred slaves, but assured him that he would give
him also as many more for a recompence of the service he had done him, in bringing me under his obedience: And when he had ordained that care should be taken of
me, he did me the grace to tell me, that I had so neerly touched his inclination, as
after he had given me my life, he would have given me me my liberty too, if he
could have resolved to deprive himself so soon of a person, which was agreeable to
him. I must confess that this generosity came near my heart, and that I was almost
ashamed to receive so extraordinary a favour with so little testimony of joy;
I retired then infinitely satisfied of this Prince, and I was conducted to the quarter of the Slaves that were destined to his Highness, although I was not treated
like them, having no other pain than that of wearing my irons. This revolution of
fortune seemed so strange unto me, when I came to consider it, as I remained all the night in the admiration of this prodigious adventure: (What said I to my self) hath destiny resolved then, that I shall pass from one extremity to another? It cannot indure mediocritie in my happiness, nor in my unhappiness; and out of 
an obstinate rage to persecute me, when it sees that I am resolved for the greatest
misfortunes, and that death passeth with me for a soveraign good, it withdrawes
me from that Port, which I held to be most secure, to expose me to the tempest again by apparent felicities: But it may be too (said I further sighing) that there is
some justice in its crueltie; the temerity which I have had to love, and to hope to
be beloved of the most admirable person that ever will be, is not yet sufficiently
punished; grief, despair, exile, imprisonment, and certainty of death, are not torments proportionable enough to my crime, which being infinite, demands also an
eternall chastisement: Let us suffer then (continued I) since the incomparable Isabella is not satisfied, and let us accept of the life, which is given us for a punishment, and not for a grace. It was after this manner. Madam, that I resolved to receive all that fortune prepared for me, with a design no longer to oppose my
reason against her humors, and blindly, and without resistance, to obey this invisible power, which mocks all human prudence; which puts us into the Port upon
the point of suffring shipwrack; which precipitates us from the top of happiness
into the abysme of misery; which overturnes Thrones; which destroyes Kingdomes; which causes Kings to die; and to say all in a word, which soveraignly disposes of the whole Universe. This resolution being strongly established in my mind,
I found more tranquillity in my self; and though I was alwaies infinitely sad, yet
for all that it is certain, that my melancholy was more sociable; and to speak truth,
it was in some sort necessary that I should find my self in this estate; for Soliman failed not to send for me the next day to talk with him; and this second conversation
having satisfied him more than the first, there past not a day after that, wherein I
had not the honor to confer with him: History, War, Geography, the Mathematiques, Painting, and Musick were the subject of these entertainments: And whereas this Prince loves the Sciences passionately, and that the Orientall people are
not at this day adicted to them, he was ravished to see that one of his Slaves was
not ignorant in all these things; so that I may say with truth, that there was not a
man in all his Empire, whom he esteemed more than my self. In the mean time I
am to let your Excellencie understand, since you will know all my fortune, that
in Galatia, in the same place where was heretofore Angori, which the Antients
called Seuleucia, and which the Turkes at this present name Gielas-il, by corruption of speech, there is an infinite multitude of Mahometan Religious men, called
Deruislars, comprehending under that name all the divers kinds ofthose Solitaries,
which are found amongst them; but amongst the rest there are of them, which
are termed Calenders, who are of a different sect from the Dernis, and that make
a more particular profession of continencie and austeritie: Of the number of these
Calenders was one Zellebis, that is to say, a Noble man, descended from Chaz-Bectas, or Chaz-Hassen, who lived in the time of Orchan, second Emperor of the





Turkes, and that in his religion had been the Disciple and Sectarie of one Edebal, who was the first institutor of all those Mahometan devotions, which prophesied the Empire to Othoman, and his successors; and who in his time had been held for a man of a very holy life: So that this Calender Zellebis, of whom I speak, a stirring and active man, relying on the reputation of his Predecessors, began to gain unto him all those of his sect, which were no small number; and under the name and pretext of liberty, he made almost all Natolia to revolt. Soliman, being advertised thereof, failed not in sending a mighty Army thither; but the chance of War so favoured those revolters, as they defeated it in divers incounters, and also killed some Sangiaes, or Governors of Provinces, who would have opposed themselves to this sedition, which under the pretext of the sanctity of those that raised it, might at length have proved dangerous to the Turkish Empire. The news of the last defeat of the Grand-Signiors Troopes was brought him a little while after I had the honor to belong unto him: And whereas the bad success of this Civill War touched him more vively, than the loss of a battel in a strange War would have done, he resolved to go in person to punish these rebells. And whereas he did not believe, that these seditious were so daring, as to oppose him, he gave not himself the time to raise one of those puissant Armies, which strikes terror into all the word, but contented himself with joyning his ordinary Guard, and some other Troops, which he took out of the Garisons, whereby he passed to those that had rallied themselves together after the last defeat. When he was ready to depart, he commanded me to follow him, though none of the rest of the Slaves besides had order to go: I will not tell you, Madam, all the particulars of this War; for
whereas I recount mine own History, and not that of the Grand-Signior, I am to
speak onely of those things, wherein I have some interest: You shall understand
then, that Zellebis, the Chief of this sedition, being fallen sick, had forsaken the
Camp, and was retired into the Capitall City of Natolia, with the best Troops of
his Army; whereof Soliman having been advertised, he resolved to go and besiege
him; not doubting but if he could get him into his hands he should easily prevail
over all the rest. This design, having been approved of, was not long before it was
executed; we marched directly to this City; approches to it are made; trenches
are cast up, batteries are raised; and in a few daies the avenues to it are so well
closed up, as it is impossible for any body to goe in or out. At length, to abridge
this narration, Zellebis, being in a short time recovered, defended himself so couragiously, that after he had sustained three assaults w ith great loss of ours, the besieged were still in case to make sallies every day, which extremely incommodated
our Army. During all these passages I had divers times besought his Highness to
permit me to venture my life for his service, which I could not obtain, because a
Slave is not suffred to bear armes: I lived then in this sort with a great deal of vexation, to see my self in a shamefull idleness at such a time, when as occasions were
so often presented, wherein I might have dyed Nobly. As I was in this melancholy, the Grand-Signior, being much incensed to see this Town hold out so long,
resolved that his Army should perish there, or carry it by force; and for that effect
he caused a generall assault to be given: And though there were a body of the enemies Army in the field, he commanded nevertheless that they should not care so
much for the guard of the Trenches, as for the attacquing of the place; and the reason of this was, because the enemy had never appeared, nor had used indeavour,
either to cast Troops into the City, or to raise the siege. In the mean time it happened, that an hour after the assault was begun, and that above twenty times there had been already lost, and regained, five or six foot of ground, which was to render Soliman Master of the Town, there was heard, notwithstanding the dreadfull
noise of Cannons, of armes, and of the cries of them that fought, towards the
Grand-Signiors quarter a great volley of musket shot, which put much fear into
our souldiers hearts. Soliman, who was present at this fight for to give direction in
person, confirmed them the best that possibly he could, and after he had commanded the Bassa Sinan to continue the assault, he went to see what the matter was





followed only by two thousand Janisaries, but he was quickly cleared in it, for he
had not marched fifty paces, but that he saw the rest of his souldiers come in disorder, having avoided the fury of the enemy, who was pursuing them still. Soliman no longer doubted then but that this was Zellebis his Army which attacqued
his Camp; and being a Prince of a great and generous spirit, he purposed to fight
with them: But as he was ready to march directly to the enemy, he was much surprized to behold from the Towns side, that not only his souldiers had abandoned
the assault, but that Zellebis in the head of those of Chientaya, went beating them
before him in a terrible disorder. As for me, who always followed the Prince without other arms than a light chain, which I wore on one of my legs, I assuredly believed that he was lost, as indeed without almost a supernaturall assistance it is certain that he could not have escaped: He was closed up in the midst of his enemies, his Army was dispersed, fear had seized upon his Troops, and is an advantagious plot of ground had not been met withall to put part of his Forces, and his
Person in safety, this mischief had been without remedy. But, Madam, must I tell
you how it was by my means, that this day, so unlucky in the beginning, had a glorious end? Yes, Madam, I must tell it you, and since my valor was but an effect of
my despair, and that you were the cause thereof, it is just to let you understand
how it was by you that I saved both the life, and the glory of great Soliman. Remember then, if you please, this verity in the process of this Narration, to the end
I may not be accused of vanity in delivering things which I had not executed
without you: I shall tell you then, Madam, that in this universall disorder I
conserved so much judgement to observe, that on the left hand of that quarter where we were, there was a place which Nature had so well fortified, as with
very little defence it was impossible to be forced; I advanced then boldly to the
Grand Signior, and maugre the press I let him see what I had already noted, and
caused him to perceive, that in attending the rallying ofhis troops he might be there
not only in assurance, but in an estate to keep those of the town from joyning with
them that were without. This advice having satisfied him, he commanded to go and
seiz on that plot; but as is the enemy had been acquainted with this design he advanced to dispute it with us. There it was, Madam, that I ceased to be slave for to be a
soldier, for having taken a scimitar which I found amongst the dead bodies, I got into the head of our troops, with so much resolution, & so much good fortune, as I did
things there which I dare not relate: in the end, Madam, I inspired our soldiers with
such valor, as reasuming courage we repulsed the enemy, & seized on the place, whereof I have already spoken to you. But when I saw Soliman in safety, I went and cast my
self amidst some of our forces, which were fighting still with those that were come
out of the City; and perceiving that our souldiers were preparing to flie, in hope
to get to the place where Soliman was, I threatned to kill them if they returned
not to the fight: This so extraordinary a discourse being seconded by some effects,
which seemed marvellous unto them, they resolved to follow me: Behold me then
the head of this couragious Brigade, whom I conducted so fortunately, as I made
them carry that in two hours, which a whole Army could not do in six weeks before. At last. Madam, being resolved to perish, or do some great matter, I so hotly
pursued the enemies, that after we had killed a great number of them, made the
rest to flie, and put fear into all the remainder, I drove them even into their town,
where being entred alone with them, certainly I performed things, which made me
plainly see, that despair is more powerfuller than valor; but whatsoever I could
have done, doubtless I should have fallen there if I had not called to minde, that
the breach being abandoned, I might through that place cause our forces to enter,
thither I made then with extreme speed, and finding none on the Ramparts but disarmed people, who were there assembled to see the success of the business, I easily
got to it, and presently discovering those which had followed me to the City-gate,
I cried unto them, Victory, Victory, for to oblige them to turn head towards me: When as they knew me by my slaves habit, they were so surprized to see me still living, as no way doubting but that I was a man sent by their Prophet to succour




them, they resolved to abandon me no more; and superstition mingled it self so happily amongst them to excite their vallor, as I can say that I never saw souldiers more couragious: They came then unto me with incredible speed, and were no sooner mounted on the breach but I pulled down an Ensign, which the enemies had set up on the wall, to put on of Solimans in the place of it; and having left some for the guard of the breach, I went with the rest to seize on the gates of the town, and their Magazine of Arms. The people no sooner heard long-live victorious Soliman cried in the streets, but their weapons fell out of their hands, assuredly believing that their Army was defeated, and that the Emperors was in the City: In the mean time Zellebis used all his endeavour to put heart into his souldiers again, but seeing it altogether imposible, he resolved to flie, fearing nothing so much as to fall alive into Solimans hands. As soon as the people knew that their Defendor had forsaken them, we had no further resistance, except at hte Gates, where some souldiers were still int he guard of them; this obstacle stayed us not long, for whereas we fought then with hope that the victory vvould fall on the juster side, vve redoubled our efforts vvith so much ardour, as at last vve became Masters of the place. Things being in this estate, and perceiving that I had not force enough to keep the people under, I thought fit to advertise Soliman of it, vvho in the mean vvhile had rallied one part of his Army, vvhich at length proved strong enough to vvithstand the Enemy, but not to repulse him, had not the happy nevvs vvhich I sent them redoubled their courage:
Soliman caused the taking of the City then
to be presently published amongst the Troops, and promised them the pillage of it
if they performed their duty vvell. After this, Madam, they marched vvith a resolution, vvhich certainly vvas a presage of the victory had the enemies stood to
it, but having turned their eyes to the City, and seeing on the walls an Ensign with
the Arms of the Empire in it, their courage began to abate, and soon after to give
place unto fear; for Zellebis upon his flying away had sent them word, that they
should not hazzard a Battell, for that the Town was lost, so that they retired; and
although that Soliman pursued them a while, their Chieftain was so cunning in his
Trade, as it was impossible to ingage them in the fight, or to keep them from making an honourable retreat; for Soliman beholding from an eminent place, that
they were going to take a wood, where it would have been dangerous to pursue
them, and seeing likewise that it was almost night, he returned to the Camp: And
whereas he had already sent me troops enough, that I might no longer fear the revolt of this people, I went to assure him that I had taken such order, as he might
by the breach enter into this rebellious Town. To tell you, Madam, how this
Prince received me would be an impossible thing; he caressed me with so much
goodness, he commended me so highly,and said so many times that he owed both
his life and his honour unto me, as his praise far surpassed that which I had done:
And observing that I had still a piece of the chain on, which I had brought back
with me from the fight, he commanded it instantly to be taken off. But seeing that
he could not forbear speaking of me, and always asking me some particularity of
this action, I besought him to think rather of conserving that which fortune had
given him by my hand, than any forther to commend a victory, for which he was
more ingaged to his own good hap, than to my valour. This Prince grew suddenly silent hereupon, whereof I could not imagine the cause; but I was not long
in this uncertanity, for Soliman after he had mused a little, began to speak, and tell
me, how he was much troubled that his Religion would not permit him to give any
command to such a man as I was, and that it forced him to do an injustice, and
to shew himself ingratefull, by conferring that on another which I had acquired. I besought him then to believe, that if his Highness was satisfied, so was I, and that I aspired to no other glory than that of pleasing and serving him. He appointed the Saniac of Natolia then to go and command in the Town; and lest the fear of chastisement should carry the Inhabitants to any revolt, he charged him to keep the souldiers all night in Arms, and he ordained the same in his Camp, the Enemies not being so far off, but that it might be feared they might make use of the advan-




tage which the obscurity of the night gave them to come and beat up some of our
Quarters.  After this he made a sign for every one to withdraw; I would have obeyed like the rest, but he let me know that this Commandment extended not to
me, and that he desired I should stay with him. It was then, Madam, that Soliman
surmounted my insensibility, by forcing me to begin to serve him with amity, and
not with simple acknowledgement, as I had done before; and indeed to speak
truth, one must have renounced all reason not to have been moved with so much
generosity. He intreated me not as his Slave; he spake not to me as to his inferiour; he caressed me not as his equall, but as is I had been an hundred degrees
above him, both in my birth, in my merit, and in my valour: And to testifie unto
me that this discourse was not a flattery wherewith he meant to recompence me, he
sware to me that it would be long of me if I did not reign in his Empire as absolutely as he himself, and conjured me to furnish him with the means for it, because
without me he should be constrained to be ingratefull, fortune being so much his
enemy, as he could not do good to the only man he loved, if I were not willing
to it also. At last, Madam, after an hundred of the most conjuring protestations
that can be imagined, and after he had prayed me above an hundred times not to
think ill of him for the proposition he was going to make me, he undertook to
perswade me to quit my Religion for to imbrace his, because, said he, without
that he must be ingratefull, I must be a slave, and he must likewise be the most unhappy of men, there not being a more cruell adventure (continued he) for a generous Prince, than not to be able to recompence a gallant action, and to be constrained to leave a person in servitude whom he loves, and whom he esteems so
much, as to divide his Empire with him. After that this Prince had said all that
generosity and affection could make one to say in a like encounter, I besought him
not to afflict himself unjustly, since I was going to give him the means to recompence
me, not only for the services I had rendred him, but for all those which I should render him in time to come. Hereupon such a joy appeared inhis face, as fully assured
me that he had expressed the meaning ofhis heart; but it continued not long, when
as I humbly desired him to restore me my chains, and to leave me to the liberty of
my Religion; that I demanded irons of him, to testifie that I would not go out of his
service, & that I besought him not to ask any more of me a thing, which I would not
doe for the possession of the Empire of the whole world, for fear I should be inforced to displease and disobey him. What! said Soliman unto me, shall I give chaines
to my Deliverer? shall I retain him still to be a Slave that makes me to reign?
shall I bind the hands of him that hath crowned me? and with a strange injustice
shall I make him a captive that hath made me victorious? No, no, it shall not be
said, that I could not recompence them, that have served me, but with a shamefull
servitude: The demand, which thou hast made me, is worthy of thy generosity, but
this recompence would be unworthy of Soliman. He had questionless proceeded further, had he not observed my countenance to change, and fearing that he had displeased me, he began to ask me pardon, when as I perceived that I was wounded
in the left arm by the blood that trickled out of the sleeve of my habit, so that
doubting that I would fall into a swoon he called in company; and notwithstanding any thing I could say he would needes see my wound searched, which was not
found dangerous, but which might have been so, had the dressing of it been any
longer retarded. It is a strange thing that I did not perceive it, and if the proposition which Soliman made unto me, had not moved me so violently,
as to make my wound burst out a bleeding, I believe that I had gone away
without heeding it. Soliman caused me to be caried into a Tent, with so great a
care, as one would have said, that on the conservation of my life depended that
of his. I began then to be no longer regarded as a Slave, but as the favourite of
the  Emperor; every one observed and caressed me, and even he that had
bought me, that had laid me in irons, and had condemned me to die, was one of the
most carefull of my health. In the mean time Soliman entred the next day into the
Town with all the ceremonies of a Prince, that is Vanquisher of his rebellious sub-





jects. The principall inhabitants were brought before him bound in chaines, and
prostrated with their faces on the ground; he informed himself presently of the
quality of their crime; he distinguished those, that had revolted out of malice,
from those that had been ingaged in it out of weakness, and by a goodness quite
contrary to the maximes of Tyrants, the lives of five or six of the most culpable 
satisfied for the offence of all the rest; and he shewed an example of clemencie, where
others would have shewed one of cruelty under the name of justice. But whereas he
had promised the pillage of the Town to the souldiers, he would not give them
cause to complain in a time when as the enemy was still in the field; neither would
he also let them charge themselves with booty, knowing well that the inriching of
an Army is the destroying of it; so that to content them, he caused them to be told,
that he was ready to keep his promise with them, but judging it not fit, Zellebis having
escaped from his revenge, that they should load themselves with unprofitable
lumb r, since they could neither carry it away, nor sell it, being constrained to follow the enemy; he 
 offered to give each of them three monthes pay, and promised
them besides not to return to Constantinople without recompencing their courage.
The souldiers accepting of this propofition, and that they might not have leisure to
repent them, Soliman made them march away three dayes after, having left a
strong Garison in the Town to hinder any new rebellion. He had the goodness to
desire to know almost every hower in what estate I was, so that having been assured
my wound would not keep me from following him, he testified a great deal of joy
for it. We marched then directly to the enemy, having discovered by our scouts
where he was: But whereas Zellebis, who had joyned himself to his Troops, would
not hazard a battell lightly, he alwaies avoyded with dexterity every place, where
he might be inforced to fight; and as he was cunning and malicious, so he invented
a trick that succeeded happily with him. He saw well, that the Grand Signiors presence was the soul of his Army, that his very sight inspired valor into his souldiers; 
and that it would be hard to vanquish them, as long as he should be a witness
of their courage; that he alone could heap wealth and honor on them: He sent then
with all speed some of his faction to Constantinople, to sow a rumor there that Soliman was dead; that his Troops were defeated; & that he was declared Emperor; making no question, out of the knowledge he had of the Janizaries turbulent humor,
which alwaies remained for the guard of the Seraglio, but that they would make
some disorder, that might recall Soliman to Constantinople; as indeed this sad and
false news was no sooner published there, but it presently begot a terrible confusion.
The Grand Visier did all that he could, to learn from whence this rumor was come,
to appease the Janizaries, assuring them that he had no notice at all of what they
were made to believe; but that, which he thought to retain them by, did but incense them the more, and confirm them in their opinion. For (said they) if Soliman were not dead, the report of his victories would reach even hither; in conclusion, the whole Seraglio, and all the people were in teares, and all the Janizaries in arms: But when the Grand Visier, seconded by some of the people, and by some of the Janizaries, would have opposed them, they turned all their fury, according to their custom, against the Jews and the Christians, they plundred all their houses, they demolished their Chappells, they set some of them on fire, and in this confusion making no distinction betwixt a Turk and a Christian, little lacked but that they had pillaged all Constantinople, yea they almost durst enterprise to force the Seraglio. But in the midst of this disorder the Grand Visier received a Letter from Soliman, which advertised him of the happy success of his Armes, to the end he should advertise his Subjects therewith, so that being assured of the verity of the matter, he went into the streets, crying aloud, that Soliman lived, that Soliman was victorious, and that Soliman would be suddenly at Constantinople. He pronounced these words with so much joy, as they made some impression in the minds of the Janizaries; and having shewed the Grand Signiors Letter to some of them, this truth was no longer doubted of any body. The most seditious and the most insolent were the most amazed; the name of Soliman restored them that respect





which avarice and violence had banished from them; they threw down their arms, 
and craved pardon; howbeit there were some of them, who fearing to render that
which they had taken away, made strange Propositions: But the Grand Visier being wise and prudent, thought it would be better to make them hope for Grace,
than to make them stand in dread of chastisement, for fear left putting them in despair they should be carried again to some new violence. He promised them then
to speak to the Grand Signior for them, and to assure him that the news of his
death had so afflicted them, as not able to be revenged on those who they believed
had caused it, they would at least be revenged on the enemies of his Religion: This
discourse began to calm their spirits, and whereas this multitude seems always in
such like encounters to have but one soul, which makes them operate, though they
be composed of persons of different thoughts, they suffered themselves at length to
be perswaded that their crime should not only be unpunished, but also be recompenced, as a mark of their zeal and affection. In the mean time the Grand Visier
dispatched away with speed to Soliman to advertise him of this disorder, and to beseech his Highness if his affairs would permit it, to return unto Constantinople, for
fear some new sedition should arise there; how it was unlikely, that the Christians, Jewes, and such Turks as had been plundered, should not complain of the outrage had been done them, and that these complaints should not be pursued with a
new mischief: He informed him also, that the affairs of Hungary went not very
well, and that his presence was necessary for the good of things. Soliman received
this unpleasing news with a great deal of grief, being sorry to leave the victory over Zellebis to another, howbeit he judged his return to be of too great importance
to be deferred; so that after he had given the command of the Army to the Bassa
Sinan, and instrusted him with the order that he would have him to hold, we departed for Constantinople with as little company as possibly we could, to the end
the Army might not be weakned, I say we departed, Madam, for since that fortunate day wherein my despair was so advantagious for me, I was inseparable from
Soliman; I had a part in all his secrets, he told me all his thoughts, and my advices, and my counsells made up most of his resolutions. His return to Constantinople produced many effects there, he gave joy to the innocent, fear to the guiltie, and
hope to the Jewes ard Christians; and truly all these apprehensions were not ill
grounded, for he rewarded those that had been faithfull unto him; he severely punished the seditious; he caused all that had been taken from the Jewes and Christians to be restored to them; he made their Chappells and their Houses to be reedified; and for their goods which they had been robbed of, and could not be
found, he paid them with his own money. After this, Madam, tranquillity was
more solidly established in Constantinople, than it was before; yet did not the Emperor judge it fit to return into Natolia by reason the affairs of Hungary would not
suffer him to be so far absented from it. During this intervall I had the honor to
talk every day with Soliman, and to receive so many marks of his amity, as I could
no longer refuse him mine; but whatsoever good will he bore me (if I may be
permitted to speak so) he could not forbear perswading me to be of his Religion,
whereunto I so strongly opposed my self, in letting him see the ridiculous errors
which it teacheth, as not able to make him angry with me, I forced him many times
to laugh at them. In the mean time it hapned, that one morning he sent an extraordinary express for me, and just as I entred into his chamber, a Bassa, named Rustan, who hath maried a daughter of Solimans, and is a cunning and dextrous man,
entred in also with me: When I was come in, Soliman told me, that he had bought a
picture of a Merchant, that was come from Tauris, which he would shew me, for to
know whether he had not been cozened, and whether it were true that he had skill
in painting: He gave me then a case covered with Diamonds, which I opened
with so great a transport, as if Soliman had had a quiet spirit he had perceived it;
for, Madam, if one may say, without blasphemy, that there is any thing in the
world which doth resemble you, it is certainly this pourtrait; and whereas the
picture which you gave me was taken from me, I believed at first that it was it,





and that to present it to the Grand Signior it had been put into a richer case; and that which served to deceive me too was, that as you had drawn your self like an Amazon, so was this also: But at length, after that this first trouble of mine imagination was appeased, I distinctly perceived that the eyes of the incomparable Isabella had a fire which did not appear in those of this picture, and that this resemblance was very imperfect. It is certain nevertheless, that the whole Orient hath never seen so fair a person; also when Soliman demanded of me, what I thought of it, I was constrained to tell him, how I did not believe that Greece had ever produced any thing so marvellous. Thou wilt not be astonished then, said he unto me, that Soliman is charmed with it, and that he is resolved curiously to inform himself whether the Originall be as perfect as the Picture; for if the Painter hath not flattered this maid, continued he, I am the most amorous of men, and I cannot live without possessing her.
I confess that this discourse surprized me,
for though it might have been said in a gallantry, yet I certainly knew by the manner of Solimans speaking that he had his heart touched. He would have me accord with him, that the Physiogminy ot this person vvas spirituall; that it had a
certain air of Roxelana the Sultana Queen, vvhom he had so much loved, and for
vvhom he had still so much respect: I know well, said Soliman unto me, how it is
incomprehensible, that he which hath the fairest women of the World in his power,
should become inamoured, it may be of the imagination of a Painter, and that a
mixture of colours, which cannot make but a dumb image, should force me to forget all the most perfect and the most charming that I have seen, yea, and Roxelana
too, whom I love more than my life. I know well enough besides, continued he,
that this person may be fair, and not be very amiable; that she may have defects in
her minde and in her humour, which her picture doth not shew me; that this
sweetness vvhich is in her eyes, is not peradventure in her heart; that this majesty
vvhich appears in her face, doth cover it maybe a vvicked and base soul; and to
say all, that she is quite contrary to that I believe her to be: But in the end I am
compelled to this inclination by a superior power, vvhich vvill not permit me to
vvihstand my self: It is not because I knovv not vvell enough what is reason, but
it is because in this incounter I cannot follovv it: He prayed me that I vvould
counsell him, so as it vvere according to his desire. I knevv vvell by this discourse
that this passion vvas too violent to be opposed, so as I only said to him, that the
first thing vvhich his Highness ought to do vvas to inform himself vvhere the Merchant had met vvith this fair object of his love, to the end he might be assured
the Painter had dealt faithfully. He told me then, how that man had already acquainted him that this person was named Felixana; that she was the daughter of
the Governor of Mazanderon; that she lived with Axiamira, eldest daughter to
Tachmas, Sophy of Persia, who it was thought was in love with her, but the report was, that Felixana, by reason of some secret inclination, or for spme reason
that was not known, did not receive the affection of that Prince favourably; wherefore this being so, he resolved to send Rustan in disguise for to see her, to offer her
all the magnificences of the Seraglio; or is she would not receive them willingly
to bring her away by force, which would not be hard to do, because he had learnt
by another, that the Princess Axiamira, with whom she lived, went almost every
yeer to Mazanderon, which is situated on the bank of the Caspian Sea. I saw very
well after this discourse, that being generous I was not to disguise my opinion in
so important an occasion; I took then the liberty to say unto Soliman in the gentlest
terms I could choose, that to use this violence was in some sort to violate the Law
of Nations, and to be waiting to exact justice; and that if Tachmas was never so little sensible of it, the fire of his love might be likely to kindle that of war; and
that peradventure his Higliness might one day repent that a pisture had caused the
shedding his Subjects blood. Rustan, who saw that by destroying the Emperors
design I would take away his imployment from him, assured the Grand Signior, that he would put Felixana into his hands without the Sophy of Persiaes ever discovering what was become of her; thathe knew almost an undoubted mean to





execute that which he had said, provided he would give him a Vessell well furnish
ed with all things necessary; that he would cause all his souldiers to be attired
like Slaves, to the end they might be the less mistrusted; that as for him, he would
also attire himself like a Merchant, and lade his Vessell withall that was most rare
at Constantinople of the commodities of Europe, and most proper to touch the inclination of women; that after this he besought his Highness not to command
him to say more, and to be contented with the Oath that he made him to return
him his head at his feet, is he did not bring Felixma. This promise did so footh
the passion of the Emperor, as not able to keep himself from following it, he had
the goodness to ask my pardon if he did not submit his sense to mine, telling me
how I had at least this advantage, that he confessed I had reason, and that he would
remember how his glory was dear unto me, since I had been so generous, as not to
fear to offend him in opposing my self to the injustice of his design; that in the
mean time we should deal in such sort as Roxelana might have no notice of it. In
the end, Madam, Rustan had the equipage he required for this goodly conquest, and
I had more civilities than I deserved. Howbeit Soliman was constrained a little after the departure of Rustan to interrupt his amorous thoughts, for to think of the
affairs of Natolia, which since his return to Constantinople were very much changed;
for as soon as Zellebis had been advertised by his Spies, that the Emperor was departed, he took as much care to joyn with his enemy, as he had used before to avoid him: And whereas Sinan had order to give battell, when occasion should
serve for it, the two Armies were not long before they incountred together. If one
should alwayes judge of the event of the fight by the number of the Souldiers, it
is certain that the Bassa would have vanquished Zellebis, who had a great many
fewer than he, but he was so unfortunate, and according to some, of so little understanding, that he let the enemies Army take all the advantages of the field, whether it were for the situation, or the wind, which drave all the dust and the smoke
in the faces of ours, whereby they were extremely incommodated. It hapned also
that when the Battell began, the Sun was covered with clouds, so that the Bassa Sinan not having observed on which side it was, or not having fore-seen that it
might break forth, he placed his souldiers with their eys just against it, who soon after perceived that this light which blinded them, kept them oftentimes from being
able either to strike their enemies, or to avoid their blows. At last, Madam, the Sun
cleared the defeat of the Bassa, and the triumph of Zellebis, and the Emperors Army,was so routed, as in above eight days after a thonsand souldiers were not found
together. This news very much afflicted Soliman, and whereas I was the only confident of his pleasure, and of his grief, I received order to come unto him ; but I
was scarcely entred into his Cabinet, when as he fell to asking of me, whether I
would have him dishonoured? Whether I had resolved to let that be lost which
I had gotten? Whether I had taken the Capitall Town of Natolia to serve for a
retreat to a coward, which had blemished the glory of his Arms? For at length,
said he unto me, the Bassa Sinan is retired thither, after he hath lost a battell, and
after he hath let mine enemy take the Arms of the Empire: Now judge, Ibrahim,
continued he, what I am to attend from thee; thy valor hath once already established my glory, it is again by thee that I must hold it; from thy hand it is that
I will have the head of Zellebis, and from thy arm that I look for victory: Oppose
thy self no longer then against my will; nor can I ever resolve that thou shouldst
quit me; I love thee too well, or to say better, I love my self too well to give thee
liberty to go out of my State. Resolve then for that vvhich I have so often demanded of thee, and which I dare not almost express more clearly imto thee, for fear
of grieving thee; at length Ibrahim, take a Turbant and a Scimitar, and after
that I make thee the chief of my Empire, mine enemies are subdued, and Soliman
is contented. It is certain, that the manner wherewith this discourse was pronounced somewhat moved my minde, but it is true nevertheless that it never shaked my
soul; I besought the Emperor not to hearken so much to the affection he bore
me, but that he would also hearken unto reason; that the first blinded his judge-





ment, in perswading him that I was capable of great things; but the second shewed him clearly, that he demanded of me a thing, not only unjust, but impossible to an heart as mine was: For, my Lord, said I unto him, our thoughts depend not upon our wills; that which we call faith amongst us, is a grace that comes from
above, and is not acquired by naturall knowledge; it is a thing then which can
not be forced; it is a present from Heaven which is to be conserved with the
perill of ones life, and which is not under the domimon of Kings: Let thy
Highness pardon me then if I refuse thee a thing which I would not doe for the possession of the whole Universe, no nor at the sight of a death, the most terrible
and most dreadfull that can be. It I should refuse thee, continued I, either my
blood or my life, which are the only things whereof I can dispose, I should think
my self guilty of the blackest ingratitude that ever was; but being far from so
base a thought, I most humbly beseech thee permit me to go and affront the Army
of the enemy, to try, the first of all, his fury and his rage, and if it be possible to
grapple with Zellebis, and sacrifice his life to thy vengeance, or mine to thy service. Thy Highness hath but too well made known unto me, how thou remembrest that when I was loaden with chains I had the good fortune to vanquish thine
enemies; do thou judge then by what I have done, of that which I will do in this
occasion, whenas so many testimonies of affection render me indebted to thy Greatness, and that being no longer fettered with irons, I may make use of all my address, and of all my force: Let a Scymitar then, my Lord, be only given me, and
let me be placed in the formost rank of thine Army; and to oblige thy Highness
from requiring that only thing of me which I can refuse thee, do but consider seriously, and consult with thy most secret thoughts, and then demand of thy self, is
the goood hap of Christendom had been such, as that thou wert powerfully perswaded of the truth of our Religion, whether thou wouldst be capable of changing it
for the conquest of all the world: But it is too much importuning thy Highness
to ask a just thing of thee with so many reasons; and it is, as it were, to commit a
crime to make any doubt of obtaining it. Soliman heard me with a great deal of
unquietness, and when I had done speaking he was a pretty while without answering me: And although the thoughts of men are hard to be known, yet I well
observed, that choler, reason, and amity reigned successively in his heart; but at
length, after he had disputed with himself, he said unto me with somewhat a more
quiet countenance, That not being able to change his mind, nor being able likewise to rid himself of the affection he bare me, he had found out an expedient
which I could not refuse him, unless I were resolved to incur his hatred; and
which he would grant me, if the Muphti, who is the head of their Religion,
thought he might do it without offending the Prophet. He propounded then unto
me, only to take the habit of the Turks, to the end that being believed to be so, he
might confer Charges upon me, and keep me about him: And to perswade the
people that I had changed my Religion, he would so order it, that the Muphti
should assure all the world, that he had performed the ceremony of it in private in
the Mosque of the Seraglio; that he was confident this man loved his head too
well to reveal a secret of so great importance; that in the mean time I might live
a Christian under the habit of a Mussulman, and render him the happiest Prince of
the Earth. I confess, that I had more ado to answer to this last proposition, than
to the other; howbeit I requested him to remember, that dissimulation was not to
go so far as to the Altars; that love and war did many times permit such things,
but that Religion required much sincerity; and that in the same which I professed, there was an express Commandment to publish it openly. I would have proceeded, but choler so surmouuted the Sultan, as I was constrained to hold my
peace, for fear of incensing him further. I well enough perceived, that amity had
still a place in his soul, maugre his fury; I saw tears of spight and kindness in his eyes, and how violent soever his discourse was he always intermingled things
amongst it, which made me easily discern, that he had an affection for me which
could never be destroyed. He said unto me then vvith a precipitated voyce, that I




should make no further reply unto him; that all the grace he could do me was to
permit me to go and consult with the Patriarch of Constantinople, and the Religious men of Pera, about an occasion wherein they had as much interest as I; for it
may be, said he unto me, after I have favoured them so much in consideration of
thee, I may very vvell destroy them for the same cause, and on them revenge my
self of thy insensibility, and of the anger I am in for that I cannot leave loving
thee, to the end thou mightst punish thy self: But go, continued he, and let me
hear thy last resolution within two dayes: for otherwise I shall be able to take one
which may make thee repent, that thou hast so ill acknowledged the affection that
I still bear thee, maugre thy obdurateness. When he had given over speaking, I
withdrew with a profound respest, and considering with my self what I had to do,
it seemed just unto me not to rely upon mine own proper sense in a matter of so
great importance. Those menaces of Soliman would not have shaken me, had
they been addrest to none save my self, but the fear of involving so great a number
of innocents in a mischief, which ought not to have regarded any but me, made
me resolve to have recourse unto the reason of others, mine not being free enough,
nor sufficiently disinterested to operate justly in this incounter. The aversion
which I had for life, being absent from you, helped to perswade me too, that my
Religion permitted not that which was desired of me. I assembled then the Patriarch of the Greek Church, and his principall Calviers, for the Latin is not yet
established in Constantinople; and whereas I had seen them often times after I was
there, I propounded the matter unto them, with all the circumstances which I believed was necessary to tell them, to the end they might the better understand the
importance of the affair: I let them know the extreme affection which Soliman
bare me; the menaces he used against them in consideration of me; the promises
I had received from him if I did that which he desired; at last I exposed the matter sincerely unto them just as it had past, and without disguising my sense I gave
them to understand, that provided they might be in safety, I should be glad they
would find that I could not satisfie Soliman but with the loss of my life. They began a dispute then, which lasted a good while; they would not trust to their memories, but would look over their books, and not judge tumultuously of the affair.
The opinions were divided for an hour and more, and either side seemed to have
very strong reasons to maintain their party; but in the end the Patriarch told them,
that as amongst us we daily see religious men sent forth in the habit of Merchants,
or Cavaliers, for the converting of souls, so the same disguisement might be permitted to one, provided it were for the same cause, and that the sole interest of Christendom carried me to this deceit, which certainly would bring me to happiness
in heaven, and to glory on earth, if I could resolve to execute it generously; that
the power which I had over the spirit of Soliman, might peradventure be so great,
as to make him doubt of his Religion; that it may be his conversion might be
reserved for me; and that if this should happen, it would render the greatest service to Christendom that ever was rendred unto it; that thereon peradventure
depended the safety of an hundred thousand persons; and that in conclusion his
advice was, that I could not fail in this occasion. This opinion being become generall amongst them, they conjured me to submit my sense to theirs, in satisfying
Soliman, and that they would ingage their consciences to me, that mine should be
discharged of all fault in this incounter, so as I let not my self be blinded with
greatness, and that the protestion of Christendom were the only motive that carried me to this disguisement. I did what I could to oblige them to change their
advice; I made an hundred objections, and an hundred demands to them; I told
them, that although I should not bear arms against Christendom, as I was fully resolved not to do, yet I should not alwayes forbear hurting it, if I served in other 
occasions, because I should still be augmenting the Turkish Empire. But they told
me, so as I carried the war to the Persians, it would amuse Soliman unprofitably for 
himself, and profitably for the Christians; for that the conquests which the Turks
made upon the Persians, could never, through a kinde of extraordinary fate, be





conserved by them; that in this sort occupying Soliman in that war, it would deprive him of the means of turning his Arms against Christendom; that of two evills the least was alwayes to be chosen; and finally, that I should in my person answer for the miseries which should arrive unto them, if I did not yeeld a blind obedience to what they ordained, whenas I sufficiently knew that reason would have it to be so. I was forced then to follow their directions, and to go unto Soliman, after I had been instructed by them concerning all that I was to do. As for that Prince, when he had propounded the matter to the Muphti in such terms as 
testified that he desired it, he that made no other use of the Religion whereot he
was the Head, but his own profit, failed not to tell the Sultan, out of the hope of a
recompence, that the thing was not only permitted, but was also meritorious, seeing it conducted to the service of the Ensure, which the Prophet had established.
As soon as the Sultan saw me, he came to me, and beholding me with a fixed eye,
he sought to know the thoughts of my heart by the motions of my face; but not
giving him leave to speak to me, I assured him that I came to obey him, provided
that his Higness would accord me three things which I desired of him. I had no
sooner said thus, but that without knowing what I would have, this Prince assured me that they were granted unto me; I besought him then to hear me first, to
the end that precipitating nothing I might never give him occasion to complain
of m. After he had given me the liberty to say what I would to him, I humbly
requested him not to take it ill, that being his Slave I should be so bold, as to capitulate with him, and give bounds to his Authority; for, my Lord, said I unto him,
I do not consent unto this disguisement, which thy Highness desires of me, but upon 
condition that thou shalt never speak to me to put that in effect, which I am going to do in shew; that thou wilt permit me to have always about me in the habit
of a Slave, a Priest of my Religion, whom I will procure to come from one of the
Ilands of the Archi-pelago; and that which is the most important, that thou shalt
never command me to bear Arms against Christendom: If any of thy Subjects,
said I to him further, shall rebell, as Zellebis, if thou wik conquer Persia; if any other of thy Neighbours that is not Christian, shall oblige thee to make war upon
him, or if thou wilt render thy self Master of all the rest of the Orient, hold
me for the basest of thy Slaves if I spare either my blood, or my life, for the glory
of thy Arms. If thy goodness doth not refuse me this which I beg of thee on my
knees, dispose of me as thou pleasest, I am resolved to follow thy directions exactly, and to obey thee in all things. Soliman was so contented with the obtaining
of that which he desired, as he swore unto me above an hundred times, that the
three things which I had demanded, should be inviolably observed. But not to lose
time, said he unto me, I will have thy change published presently, to the end the
people may not be surprised with it; in the mean space I will go and give order
for the Muphti to come to me, and will command him to repair to thee eight
dayes one after another, to make the world think that he instrusts thee, and prepares thee for this Ceremony, which shall oblige thee to keep thy chamber the
whilst, the better to make it be believed that it will be performed. At length, Madam, not to prolong this discourse with vain repetitions, the business was done as
it had been propounded, and this dumb shew was so well carried, as no body beleeved it but to be so. As long as I kept the house I was visited by the chiefest of
the Empire, who judged rightly, that the affection of Soliman having no other obstacle to hinder him from imploying me, would without doubt bring me into an
estate able to serve them, as indeed it was not long before I perceived that their
conjectures were true; for the second day after this imposture, I found, that I had
an house, a magnificent train, rich clothes, and to conclude an equipage proportionable to the imployment which Soliman gave me, by making me Generall of
the Army in the place of the Bassa Sinan: And to testifie his amity the better unto
me, he gave me wherewith to render secretly to the Patriarch of Constantinople, and
the rest that had counselled me, the Tribute which he had drawn from them the last three years, and caused also the foundadon of a Palace to be laid, which after-



wards I finished. In the mean time he had taken care, that I should have troops
ready to march, when I had satisfied the civilities of the Ceremony, so that at
such time as I went first to salute him in a Turkish habit, I found that that, which
I believed should have been one of my ordinary visits, was a farewell for me to go
and command the Army of Natolia. I will not tell you, Madam, the joy which
this Prince shewed in this occasion, it was so great, as my tongue hath not an expression powerfull enough to paint it forth unto you; but in the end to let you
see in what estate I was with him, I have but to tell you, that after he had fully instructed me about the affairs of Natolia, and that he had commanded me to take
upon me the Conduct of his Army, he told me, that to do me justice, and to punish the Bassa Sinan both for the cruelty he had before times used towards me, and
for the cowardise he had shewed, his pleasure was, that yeelding me his place, he
should withall take that in my service which I had held in his, namely, Madam,
that he should be my slave as I had been his. I must confess here, that without playing the generoso this proposition grieved me very much, and notwithstanding all
the respect I had to Soliman, as soon as he acquainted me with his intention I cast
my self at his feet, humbly to besecch him not to command me the doing of so extraordinary a thing, nor to require, that a man who had been my Master, should
be reduced to misery and infamy; that for my part, I could never resolve to put
him in chains that had commanded me, and who, it may be, was more infortunate than faulty: I represented then unto him that the fate of war doth oftentimes mock at humane prudence; that force and number do not alwayes suffice to
have the better; and lastly, that victory doth not always attend upon valor and
justice. After all these reasons, which peradventure had not been potent enough to
move him, I begged the liberty and fortune of this man for a recompence of all
the services which I would render him, and besought him to be contented with absenting him from the Port, by sending him to be Governor of some one of his
Provinces. Soliman resisted my request at first, but afterwards consented thereunto,
upon condition that the Bassa should know how much he was obliged unto me;
then he gave me a Letter for him, whereby he was commanded to remit the remainder of his Army into my hands, and straightly imbracing me, Go, said he unto
me, my dear Ibrahim, whither thy glory calls thee, where mine requires thee, and
where victory attends thee: But when thou shalt be accumulated with honour,
when thou shalt have re-established that of my Arms, and triumphed over mine enemies, come and receive the recompence that I shall prepare for thee, and quietly
enjoy the fruit of thy labors. Justiniano having observed some change in Isabellaes
face, thought it was fit for him to say, I perceive, Madam, that this name of Ibrahim doth surprize and astonish you, but your astonishment will cease, when I shall
have told you, that in changing of habit I did not change my name, and that this
which I bear, is the same with that of Ibrahim amongst the Turks.  It is true, answered the Princess, that I was strangely surprized by this name, but it is true also,
that my astonishment is not yet finished; for could it be possible that you should be
that Ibrahim of whom the relations of the Levant hath told us such wonders?
whose valour hath done such miracles, who hath conquered a part of Persia, gained so many great battails, caused Soliman to bc crowned at Bagdet, and who passeth
for so extraordinary a man, as it is not believed the Orient hath ever had the like.
Now, I pray you, hold me no longer in suspence, but after you have cleared that
unto me which I ask of you,  pursue the sequele of your History, and acquaint me
exactly with all that hath befallen you. I know very well, Madam, replyed Justiniano, that after that which you have said, I should, if I were modest, dis avow my
self, but being true and sincere I must confess,that I am that Ibrahim whom fame hath
so much flattered, as I cannot tell how to know my self by the pourtrait which
your Excellency hath made of me by her report: Rely not then upon that which
this deceiver hath told you, and to make you the Iudge thereof do but give ear
to the process of my adventures. As soon as I was arrived at Natolia with the
Troops which the Grand Signior had given me to conduct thither, I went directly





to Chientaia, from whence the Bassa Sinan had not stirred since his retiring to it, having done nothign else but incamped the remainder of his Army neer to the Town, in attending either Forces, or a new Order; I sent him that which I had brought, by a Capigi, which he executed very punctually; he configured the Army into my hands, and gave me thanks for the obligations wherein he stood ingaged unto me; for he had understood by the Sultans Letter, that I had saved him from an extreme ill fortune. I comforted him the best I could, and promised him, that if the Emperor continued his favour to me, I would continue also to serve him. After this I imployed all my care to carry my self in such sort, that the hopes which Soliman had of me might not be frustrated. I caused my Army to be mustered, and having put it into Battell Array, I went from rank to rank to visit all the Troups, and incouraged them to do well, (for I had learnt the language of the
Countrey perfectly) I assured them, that in leading them to the fight, I would be
the first that would be ingaged therein; that I would perform the part of the souldier, as well as of the Generall of the Army; that I would reserve my self nothing of all the booty which should be gotten from the enemy, but the sole pleasure of having inriched them.  After this discourse, they made shouts of joy,
which perswaded me that I was agreeable to them. Then came all the Commanders
to take the Oath of Obedience to me, and to assure me that they would follow me
to the death: That done, I marched directly to the enemy, who was not above fifteen or twenty miles from us; but whereas he had been advertised that the Slave
which had taken Chientaia, was Generall of the Army that was comming to attaque him, the remembrance of what had past made him to fear that which was to
insue, and for that reason he discamped in hast, with a purpose to retire to a side of
Natolia, where it had been impossible to have forced him to fight.  When I perceived his design by the way his Army took, I resolved to prevent him, by causing
my forces to march a whole night with all possible speed: The matter succceded so
happily, that my Army having had leisure to rest three or four hours, began to
see that of Zellebis appear, who being soon advertised  of this warlike
stratagem, entred into such despair for having been surprised in this sort, as he resolved to accept of the Battell which I presented unto him. I was glad to understand his design, and to inspire my Souldiers with the same thought, I assured
them, after I had given order for all things, that the justice of the cause we defended was a presage of the victory; that it was easier to punish Rebels, who carried
a domestique enemy in their hearts, which reproached them with their crime,
than to vanquish men whose Arms were lawfull; that they whom we were to fight
with, being resolved for it more by fear and necessity, than by valour, it would be
but too easie for our glory to remain victorious: I represented also unto them,
that the travail they had endured in going so fast, was not disadvantageous unto
them, it being most certain, that they which fly are wearied more than they which
pursue them; that the end of the War depending on this battell, I was resolved
to vanquish or to dye; and that all the favour I demanded of them was, to follow the way which I was going to shew them. I had no sooner done speaking,
but they testified unto me, both by their shouts and by their actions, their desire
to fight; so that not suffering so noble a heat to cool, I marched on foremost to the
Enemy. I will not stand, Madam, to particularize this battell, since it would be
to abuse your patience, and be wanting in good manners, to entertain you so long
with matters of war; it shall suffice then to tell you that which regards me directly, seeing you will have it so, although it be not without blushing. Wherefore I
shall only say, Madam, that at first the enemies received us couragiously, and that
they repulsed us severall times with such ardour, as despair did more in them than
valour in us; butafterthatthe victory had hung ballancing on either side, and
that the hope of carrying it had possessed each party more than once, it was my
good fortune, maugre the confusion of the fight, to know Zellebis by the marks
which had been given me of him. He was of a reasonable extraordinary bigness,
and his custom was to carry alwayes two Scymitars in the wars, the one in his



hand, and the other at his saddle-bow; he was also many times armed after the
Persian manner, so as no way doubting but that it was he, I brake through the press
to meet him, and calling him by his name, I told him, that the same Slave, who
before had vanquished him in his chains, was come to make him satisfaction for
that outrage in Arms; I spake to him in this sort, because I had understood that in
a speech to his souldiers, after he had heard that I was Generall ofthe Army, he had
told them in a jeering way, that I was still so tired with wearing of irons, as it
would be easie for him to overcome me: Howbeit fortune disposed of it otherwise, not because he was not a more valiant man than I, but because I was more fortunate than he. As soon as he understood that which I have told you, he seconded
my design; and that we might the better enter into a particular fight we freed our
selves, as well as we could, from those that invironed us, and being separated from
the rest, we began our combat. I doubt not, Madam, but you will be astonished with
that which I am going to acquaint you with, since it is certain, that one will have
much adoe not to be surprized with a thing which hath no example in all Antiquity, and which your imagination would not fore-see. It hapned then, Madam,
that some of ours having observed this action, and having told it to their companions, this rumour spread it self so suddenly amongst the two Armies, that as if
those two great bodies had had but one spirit, which had animated them, they took
both of them the same resolution, and confided so in the valor of their Chieftains,
as they determined to be spectators of the victory, which they attended from them.
They of my party said, that they would not share the glory of this day with me,
and that I would carry it away well enough without their succour; and others
muttered, that he who had known so well how to begin the war, knew also how to
finish it gioriously. At length, Madam, the most earnest to fight, separated themselves to behold us; and as is there had been some inchantment in this adventure,
every one retired to his own Ensign, and in an instant the field of our combat proved to be in the midst of two Armies in Battell Array. This event surprised me in
such sort, as it had like to have coft me my life; for whereas, maugre the heat of
the fight, I had conserved so much coldness and judgement, as to mark what was
done, and to be astonished at it, going to turn about my head towards my souldiers
to give them assurance that I fought for thera, I furnished mine enemy with such an
opportunity, as being loath to lose that advantage, he struck me so great a blow
with his Scymitar upon my Turbant, as I was almost bereft of my senses, and if by
good hap it had not turned in his hand, I had certainly been lost: Hereupon arose
cries from both parties, which amidst their confusion testified their thoughts unto
us; and whereas mine had observed, that I had received this blow by looking at
them, they would have advanced, which I perceiving by the enemies countenance,
I separated my self some dozen or fourteen paces from Zellebis to charge them not
to stir, and to confirm them in that design I returned to Zellebis with such courage,
as they were perswaded it would not be easie for him to surmount me. Howbeit
we disputed this victory a long time, and verily this man combated with such heart,
as gave me a great desire to save him; so that his horse having thrown him to the
ground upon a blow that I unwittingly gave him, I told him that if he would render himself I would promise to get his pardon of Soliman; but being got up again
with fury, and having answered me, that he would have the victory, or die, I
would not combat him with advantage, so that being alighted from my horse we
began a new fight, which was more infortunate for him than the former: For feelling my self hurt in the left arm, the desire which I had to vanquish redoubled in
such manner, as in a little time his death put fear into his Army, and joy into mine.
Some of his seeing him fall would have advanced to revenge his loss, or to recover his body, but they were so rudly repulsed, as they were constrained to change
that design into that of breaking and flying: I then commanded my men to cry
out in pursuing them, that they should be received to grace which would render themselves; this voyce failed not to work its effect, for out of the despair wherein they were, for having lost not only the Generall of their Army, but the Au-



thor of all this war, many of them flung down their Arms; the rest were cut in
pieces, some excepted that retired into the revolted Towns; but I can say, that
they which escaped the pursuit of our Forces contributed not the least to our glory,
for they brought so great a terror to the places which they had chosen for their
retreat, as in fifteen dayes they rendred all to the obedience of the Grand Signior.
In the mean time to make good my word, and to follow the custom of those Countreyes, I sent the head of Zellebis to Soliman, who doubtless was not so glad at the
death of his enemy for the interest he had in it, as he was because he believed that
this action was glorious to me: And whereas he had an extreme desire to see me,
I had order to return unto Constantinople as soon as Natolia should be peaceable, and
that I had secured all the revolted places. I was not long before I was in an estate
to obey him, for whereas Zellebis was the onely man that remained of the Race of
Chaz-hassen, so considerable with the Calenders, and the Deruis, there vvas no one
found amongst them vvhom the rest vvould obey; the equality of their birth and
condition vvas the cause that never a one in particular vvould indure that another
should command, and this dissension put them into such disorder, as they were
more revolted amongst themselves, than against their Soveraign. I profited by the
advertisement I received hereof, for Soliman having sent me an absolute power to
pardon, or to punish, I commanded them to yeeld, promising to make their peace
with the Grand Signior, but threatning that if they did not accept of the pardon
which I offered them, to extirpate them utterly, and to cause all the Deruis, and
all the Calenders to be banished from out of the whole extent of the Turkish Empire. This was done in a conjuncture so favourable, that they all with one voyce
resolved to render themselves; there was not a Town which did not open their
Gates, receive a Governor from my hand, and a Garrison strong enough to keep
them from rebelling another time; and for more surety, I caused all the Deruis and
Calenders to be disarmed, representing unto them, that the profession of men of
Religion did not permit them to have Arms; and that their crime could not receive a lighter punishment, than to be contented that the means of their future offending should be taken from them. At length, Madam, after I had set an order to
all things, I returned to Constantinople, where for a recompence of that little I had
done, Soliman made me Bassa, and Grand Visier, which is the prime Charge of
that Empire; for it had so fallen out, that he who possessed it died in my absence.
I did all that I could to refuse this honor, but in the end I was constrained to
accept of it, both by the Commandment of the Grand Signior, and by the counsell of the Religious men of Pera, and of the Patriarch of the Greek Church,
whom I still acquainted with all that befell me, by a Priest disguised like a slave,
which alwayes attended on me, alleging this reason to me for it, that the more
power I had, the more utile I should be for Christendom. Behold me then the first
person of the Empire next to Soliman, but with an Authority so absolute, as never
was there Subject seen so independent from his Soveraign. I was some time instructing my self in the Forms and Ceremonies that are to be observed in dispatches; after which Soliman reposed himself on me for the Government of his
Estates, except it were for so much as concerned the affairs of Christendom, which
I alwayes protected as much as possibly I could. In the mean season this Prince
thought many times on Felixana, extremely marvelling at the long voyage of Rustan, upon vvhose comming he had placed a great deal of hope; but fortune that often delighteth in extraordinary things, and loves to give weak beginnings to the most important affairs, had disposed of it in a fashion which Soliman did not foresee: And how prudent soever he was, he did not consider, that Love and Fortune, who were to give success to this adventure, were two Deities too blinde to bestow all that he desired on him, although he deserved it; and indeed he was deceived by them both, for he was amazed to see Rustan return very melancholick, without Slaves, vvithout Souldiers, vvithout a Vessell, and vvithout Felizana. At first
he believed that his design having been discovered all his equipage had been taken
from him, and that he had been ill intreated; but vvhen he had commanded him





to give him an accompt of his voyage, he learned, that the business had past in another manner; for Rustan had been so dextrous, and so happy in his enterprize as
he had forcibly carried away the person whom the picture which Soliman had given him represented: But, Madam, this person was not Felixana, and this adventure is so deplorable, that although it be not intermingled with my fortune but
onely in regard it is the foundation as a war, which I am obliged to relate, yet
would I let you understand it, seeing you will bc acquainted with the whole course
of my life, did I not fear to importune you with so long a Narration. The Princess interrupting Justiniano, desired him not to speak to her any more in this sort
and to tell her, not only all that which had befallen him, but all that which he
knew concerning the life of Soliman; it seeming unto her, that this Princess loved him too well not to have his History joyned to his; whereupon Justiniano began thus.
The History of the Princess Axiamira.AS soon as Rustan, after he had quitted his Vessell in Mingrelia, and had taken
another upon the River of Araxes, was arrived with his souldiers disguised
at Mazanderon, which is a Town situated on the bank of the Caspian Sea, and the
Capitaill of Hircania, at this day called Diargument, and had cast anchor in the
Port, he understood that the Princess Axiamira had been there a pretty while, although it was not as yet the season wherein she used to come thither; but for some
disorder which had hapned in the Sophies Court she had advanced her voyage.
Rustan, seeing such a wonderfull good hap for the commencement of his enterprize, thought of nothing else but to seek the means how he might be introduced into the Castle, for the which he began to fall in with the Merchants of the
place, and to part with some things that he had brought thither, at a price much
below the ordinary, to the end his design might succeed the rather; as indeed
he had not been eight dayes in the Town, but he received order to let the Princess Axiamira see the goodliest things he had; he obeyed this commandment
with joy, being in good hope that Felixana was with her: He carried her then a
great many Mirrors, little Pictures, and curious Watches, which are the rarest things
amongst the Persians; but he was exceedingly surprised and astonished whenas waiting in Axiamiraes chamber for her coming out of her Cabinet, he heard one call a
maid, that had brought him in, Felixana, who, though she was very fair, resembled
not a whit the pourtrait which he had: this amazement doubtless was great enough,
but it redoubled more whenas the Princess Axiamira entred into the chamber, and
that he certainly knew she was the Originall of that fatal Picture, which hath since
caused the shedding of so much blood, and so many tears. He was so struken with
this sight, that at first it gave the Princess occasion to think, that being a Merchant,
and not accustomed to converse with great persons, he was out of countenance;
howbeit at length he told her in the Persian tongue, that within a little while he
should have rarer things yet to shew her, hoping by this artifice to have the opportunity to see the Princess once again, the better to confirm him in the belief that
what he beheld was true. Axiamira, giving credit to his words, bought onely
a Looking-glass, and some Watches, and then ordained him not to fail in letting
her have a sight of those rarides he spoke of, as soon as they were come to his
hands. Rustan retired in this sort, but so full of confusion and astonishment, as he
was a long time before he could beleeve that which he had seen, and longer yet
before he could resolve upon what to do in so unexpected an event. What! sayd
he to himself, as he told me after his return, is it possible that Felixana should be
turned into Aximira? that the daughter of the Governour of Mazanderon should
become the daughter of the Sophy of Persia? or that through an extraordinary adventure a Merchant should be so daring as to assure a thing to Soliman, whereof he
was not well assured himself? Hereupon having opened the case wherein the Pi-





cture was, which the Grand Signior had given him, and also recollecting his imagination and his memory, for the comparing of it with the originall, and for the
observing of all the lineaments in particular, his eyes so confirmed him in the belief, that it was the Picture of Axiamira, as he made no longer doubt of it. Then it was, that he saw himself combated with divers thoughts; for whereas he is ambitious, hardy, cunning, and wicked, and that to attain to a glorious imployment, would undertake any thing; the fear of displeasing Soliman either in venturing to carry Axiamira forcibly away, or in returning without doing oughts, agitated him
so mightily, as he was ten or twelve daies sick upon it, during which time he did nothing but pass up and down in his mind all the reasons that might induce him,
either to the forcible carrying away of Axiamira, or to the restraining him from it:
On the one side he thought, that the Grand Signior having made choice of him for
the service of his amorous pashon, he should be but badly received, if at his return
he only brought back for the fruit of his voyage, that Felixana resembled not the
picture which had been given him; He feared also that Solimans hope being frustrated, that which he had of being Beglerbei of Syria would be so too; Wherefore
regarding the matter after another sort, he laboured to find anothers satisfaction
in his own. But the more he considered the design of carrying away of Axiamira by force, the more obstacles he found therein; he was not powerfull enough
to force the Town or Castle, and the retiredness wherein the women live over all
the Orient, permitted him not the means to work upon any of those that were neer
the Princess for the suborning them: But above all things, the sole apprehension
that Soliman should not approve of his design,and should be offended to understand,
that instead of forcibly carrying away the daughter of a simple Governour, he
should have forcibly carried away that of one of the mightiest Princes of the
world, put him into an unquietness that cannot be exprest; and I verily believe
by that which I could conjecture out of his own relation, that this last fear had
absolutely mastered his soul, and carried him to return without enterprizing further, had not the misfortune of the unhappy Axiamira made him change his opinion, and brought her to contribute her self to her own ruin, without thinking
of it. This excellent Princess took so much pleasure in fishing, and was so delighted with this sport, as there were few fair dayes which she imployed not in this
maritime chase; and whereas all Persia was quiet, having no war either domestick
or forein, she went to this innocent warfare, more accompanied with fisher-men
than souldiers, and almost without other arms than nets and hooks. During the
time that Rustans sickness lasted, he observed that Axiamira was two or three days
a fishing, and having dextrously informed himself from some Merchants who
dealt with him, that the Princess used oftentimes so to do, he understood what I
have declared, so that no longer judging this design, which he had believed to be
impossible, other than a little hazardous, and having a Vessell that was an excellent Sayler, well furnished with all things, and never a Mariner but which was a
Souldier, he looked on this affair after another manner, and out of an extreme
inhumanity he reasoned in this sort. I have order from Soliman, said he, to put
him in possession of the Originall of this Picture; it is not the name of Felixana
that makes him amorous, it is the beauty of Axiamira which he hath seen in this pourtrait; it is then Axiamira whom I am forcibly to carry away: It is true, that
she is a Princess, but it is also true, that therein fortune favors me, in giving me
the means to acquire a treasure for Soliman far more precious than he beleived it to be; the boldness of my enterprize will make the greatness of my recompence,
and will manifest to his Highness, that there is nothing which I would not do to
obey him. Behold, Madam, the unjust reasons wherewith Rustan authorised his enterprize, but the true were, as I have already said, that he hath naughty inclinations; that he is born for crime and violence; and that he is so much an enemy to goodness, as it sufficeth to be vertuous for to be hated of him. He took the resolution then to carry away Axiamira by force, at such time as she should go a fishing; but to faciliate his design he judged it fit to get him out of the Port, and to the





end they should not marvail at his departure, he to obtain permission for it caused
the Princess to be told, that having received advertisement how a vessell of his
Country was within three or four daies to be at a Port that was not above ten
miles from Mazanderon, he was resolved to go and wait for it there, to deal for some
commodities vvhich he thought he had had, but had forgot to bring along vvith
him; that at his return he vvould not fail to let her see the rarities, whereof he had
spoken, not being able to do it sooner by reason of his sickness: And to shew that
he intended to return again, he suffered himself to be unpayd by some Merchants
that were in his debt. He parted then in this manner, leaving the Princess very desirous of his return, in regard of her inclinations to such rare things; but whereas he had no design to eloign himself much, and had observed how the Princess
used ordinarily to take that way whereby he came thither, he put his vessell into
the covert of a Creek three miles from the Port, where the point of a Rock advanced so far into the sea, as they that came from the Towns side could not see them
which were there, before they were so near as they could not decline a fight. It was
here where Rustan resolved to attend the Princess, being confident that she vvould
not be long before she came thither, because he knevv it was the place most proper
for her sport: In the mean time to beguile the vessels, which passing by might discover him, he set up the Flag of Persia in his Main-top, and caused all his men that
appeared on the deck to change their habit; for the cunning of this man had provided for all things, and had not omitted ought that could conduce to the happy success of so mischievous a design. Now accordingly this deplorable Princess,
no way doubting of the treason that was intended against her, resolved the next
day after Rustans departure, to recreate her self on the sea; but to make up her misfortune, she would not that day go a fishing, but onely take the air, and pass away
the time more freely with her women. In the mean season Rustan had made a
speech to his souldiers and Mariners, vvhom he had gained with gifts, to encourage
them to well-doing, is it hapned that he should command them to attacque a
vessel. He told them, that what he desired of them was the least exploit he could
expect from their valour, since it was a vessel without Ordnance, and more laden
with women than souldiers; that above all things they should beware of doing
any outrage to the Ladies; but for the men, that they should not spare them, it
being necessary that none should escape which might testifie ought concerning this
Action. After this he set a sentinell on the top of the Rock to discover when
Axiamiraes vessell should come out of the Port, for to advertise him of it. The
impatience of this Ravisher lasted not long; for, as I have already declared, the
next day after his departure, the Princess resolved to go and take the air: no
sooner was she on the sea, but the sentinell advertised Rustan of it, who with all
speed fitted his ship, and prepared his men to do that which he had commanded
them. Scarcely had he given order for every thing, whenas the Princesses vessell
appeared; she was sitting in the Stern upon Cushions of cloth of Gold, with all
her women about her, and attired like an Amazon, as her picture represented her,
having a Dart in her right-hand, upon which she leaned: As soon as she perceived
Rustans vessel, she rose up suddainly to observe it, as if she had foreseen what was
to arrive unto her; this first apprehension was quickly seconded by another more
grievous one; for just as the Princess rose up, Rustan changed the design he had of
following her, that so he might draw her the further from the Town, into that
of setting upon her immediately, so that he commanded his men to make up with
full sails to the vessell, and board her, expresly forbidding any Ordnance to be shot
off, for fear of losing that which he meant to preserve, and that the Castle too might
not thereby take up an Alarum, and come to the succour of the Princess. This
was not so soon sayd as executed; Axiamiraes vessell was boorded by that of Rustan, who first of all leaped into her, for to save the Princess from perill, and to encourage his men, which seconded him so happily, as the resistance of Axiamiraes
Guard was in vain; the surprise and astonishment wherewith they were seised,
served not a little to make them be so easily vanquished; for in a quarter of an hours




fight they were all slain, Rustan not having above three of his people hurt. But when he would have had the Princess remove out of her vessel into his, she shewed more heart than her souldiers had done, and encouraging her women to defend themselves, and to endure rather to be killed, than to let themselves to be carried away, she advanced towards him with the Dart in her hand, and whatsoever he could do to restrain her, being loth to use her unworthily in her misfortune, he could not keep her from hurting him in the face: But whereas he saw that his respect might be the cause of his undoing, in retaining him too long in so dangerous a place, he commanded four of his souldiers to quit their weapons, and take her up in their Arms, and carry her into his vessell. Then it was when she redoubled her uttermost indeavour, and that with incredible courage, she would have rid her self out of their hands to have leapt into the sea; but Rustan took so much care to preserve her, as he hindred her from it. As soon as her women savv that their resistance was vain, and that the Princess was in Rustans vessell, they left defending themselves, and out of an affection which cannot be sufficiently admired, 
they strove who should first pass into their enemies vellell, so much did they fear to
abandon their Mistress, chusing much rather to be slaves with her, than to remain
free without her. After this Rustan held it necessary to sink the Princesses vessell,
which was instantly done, but he thought it was not fit to cast the dead bodies into
the sea, for fear lest some of them being driven a shoar by the waves should be a
sign that the Princess had not suffered shipwrack, as he desired it should be beleeved, in regard they would be all found full of wounds. He caused all the dead bodies then to be carried into his vessel, with an intention when they should be
further off, to throw them over-boord in sacks half filled with some heavy things,
which afterwards was accordingly executed. When they had sunk the Princesses
vessell, he commanded his Pilot to steer towards Mingrelia, and to employ all his
skill in making thither with all the possible speed he could; he gave order also to
his souldiers to keep themselves continually ready to fight, and unto two of his
men carefully to watch for the discovery of whatsoever should appear at sea, and
presently to advertise him of it. This done, he went to the Princess, whom they
had put into the Captains Cabbin, but he was much amazed to find her in a swoon;
her striving, and the grief she was in to see her self so carried away, had so weakned, and oppressed her, as she was without pulse, without motion, and almost without life. The resentment which Rustan shewed for it, and the care he took to
assist her, though it was rather the effect of his interest than of his pitty, caused the
Princesses women to have some comfort amidst their misfortune: They laboured
all of them together then to make her come to her self again; and a little after she
assured them by a deep sigh, that she would soon be sensible of all her miseries; and
accordingly within a while she opened her eyes; but not being longer able to make
any resistance, and seeing Rustan by her, whom she knew, though she had never beheld him but once before, and that he had changed his habit, she was constrained to
have recourse unto her tears. Rustan seeing her in this estate, fell on his knees before her to ask her pardon for the wrong he did her, and to beseech her to beleeve,
that so sad a beginning would have a most happy end. He told her likewise, that
he was not what she thought him to be; that he operated by a more powerfull hand than his own; and that if her grief would permit her to give ear unto that, which might confort her, she would quickly dry up her tears. This Princess striving to answer him, said unto him with a low voice, that there was no vvay to confort her, but to assure her, that she should die without the deprivation of her honour and liberty, and without falling into the hands of Deliment. Rustan swore unto her then, that he knew not that Deliment of whom she spake, and protested, that
far from doing her any violence, he would serve her with all respest, beseeching
her once again to suspend her grief untill she had learnt the cause of her misfortune. This cheater spake this with a face wherein compassion and sincerity were so
well painted forth, as sollicited again by her women, she resolved to hear him:
But he first desired that she would give them order to withdraw a little aside, to the





end that none but she might understand what he said unto her. She made some difficulty to agree thereunto, but at length she was forced to obey. He recounted to
her then, how her unhappiness was an effect of her beauty; but he did not tell her
that Soliman had loved her under the name of Felixana, onely he acquainted her
that her picture had begot this love, and consequently the design which he had executed; howbeit he perceived that Axiamira did not beleeve him, so that to perswade
her the better, he shewed her picture to her, which she presently knew, and calling
her women to her to look upon it, she put them in mind, how the Sophy having
caused her to be drawn one day with Felixana by an excellent Painter, whom fortune had brought into their country, he had commanded many coppies to be made
of them, which he had given to Merchants for the publishing of her beauty all abroad, and that of Felixana whom he infinitely loved. Upon this discourse Rustan
was no longer troubled to conceive, how Axiamira had been taken for Felixana,
easily imagining that a Merchant, who it may be understood not the Persian tongue
very well, might be deceived in taking the picture of Felixana for that of Axiamira, and that of Axiamira for that of Felixana, and much the rather, for that the Merchant had got those pictures without ever seeing the Princess, as we came to know
afterwards. But to return to this afflicted fair one, after that Rustan had acquainted her with the cause of her misfortune, he would have inlarged himself upon the
magnificences of the Seraglio, upon the excellent qualities of Soliman, upon the
excess of the passion which he was in for her, and have perswaded her that her unhappiness would make her happy. But this generous Princess, not able to endure a
discourse so far distant from her sense, sayd unto him with a voice much stronger,
than the weakness wherein she was would seem to permit her; do you beleeve then,
that a person which might have succceded to the Crown of Persia, can resolve to be
the slave of Soliman? to spend her life in prison? and to have for her companions
infamous creatures, who are for the most part the refuse of Pyrates? No, no, Axiamira came not into the world but to reign, and her death shall make it soon appear,
that she knows not how to obey: Fortune hath put me into your hands, but mine
shall deliver me out of them. After this she mused a pretty while very profoundly,
Rustan not daring to answer her for fear of further incensing her ; then suddenly
speaking again, and addressmg her self to him, Can I hope, sayd shee unto him,
for any sincerity in a man that hath so cruelly betrayed? me and can I beleeve that
what he hath told me is true? for how can it be imagined that Soliman, whose reputation is so great and so fair, should be capable of causing an innocent Princess to
be forcibly carried away for to make her his slave? and how can it yet be conceived, that this Prince, who is sayd to be so amorous of a certain Roxelana, and
who hath loved her so long, could be in a passion for a picture, yea in such a passion as hath obliged him to violate the law of Nations, to forget naturall equity, to
outrage a Prince as mighty as himself, and to do an act so strange as it is without
example in all Ages? Tell me then, I conjure you, said she unto him, the true cause
of my disaster, and hide not from me that which time will clear unto me but too
well. Rustan seeing her mind a little quieter in all appearance, thought he might
gain her by gentleness; wherefore he assured her with all the artifice that possibly
he could use; how all that which he had told her was true, but how it was true
also, that the image of the Seraglio, which seemed so dreadfull unto her, was a meer
effect of her grief; that all the grace he would demand of her was no other, but
that she would live untill she had seen Soliman, which favour if he might obtain of
her, he was well assured, that the sight of so excellent a Prince would make her
change her opinion. Yes, said she, interrupting him, I will live, if my grief will
permit it; but I will live only to seek out the means how to revenge the death, that
I will give my self, as soon as my complaints and cryes have made some one to
know the outrage which I have received, to the end that the report thereof being
bruited abroad, the Sophy my Father may, by learning the cause of my loss, take
such revenge for it, as Heaven doth promiso me, and which also I beg of it: Behold then what I accord to your desires, in the mean time, if pitty may yet find any





place in your soul, leave me to weep with my women, and refuse me not the grace that I may be permitted to bewail them for the miseries which I have brought them to, and to prepare them for my death; but if your inhumanity doth carry you not to grant me this that I desire, as me-thinks I observe in your countenance, remember that birth not depending on fortune, I am still the daughter of the Sophy of Persia, and that you are but a Slave, who doubtless have nothing more recommendable in yon, than fraud and cunning wherewith to serve the violences of your Master; get you out of this Chamber then, and enter no more unto it, till the hour of my death be come; for surely the rank which I hold doth ordain you to have so much respect unto me, who commands you unto it. Rustan who had no other interest in the carrying away of this Princess, but that of conducting her to Soliman,
fearing nothing more than to see her die before she
should arrive at Constantinople, was affraid in hearing her speak so imperiously, that
she would have fallen into some extreme resolution, if he should have contradicted
her, wherefore he went out of her chamber, and assured her, that she should see by
his respect, that he had not forgotten what he owed unto her: But first he took
heed with a great deal of care, not to leave any thing wherewith she might hurt her
self, which she perceiving said further unto him. You may take from me iron, sire,
and poison, but not the will to die, and by it I shall alwayes find means to execute
my design: Rustan would return her no answer, knowing full well that she was
not in an estate to be perswaded. After this he caused her to be served very carefully without ever entring into her chamber, yet did he for the most part hear all
that she said to her women; for fearing left she should offer to get out of the Cabbin for to go and cast her self into the Sea, he lay alwayes at the Cabbin-door,
not daring to trust any body with the guard of a treasure from whence he hoped
for all his fortune. I will not recount unto you the generous and pitifull discourses
of this infortunate Princess during this voyege, since it would but augment the
regret, which you will have for her loss: For, Madam, after a Navigation prosperous enough; after they had passed over all the Caspian Sea by gayning the Coast; on
the left hand; after they had arrived at the River of Araxes, which disimbokes it
self into this Sea; had traversed by Land thorough the Whole Countrey of Colchieda, now called Mingrolia, where Rustan betook him to his former Vessell again, 
which had stayed still for him there; had travelled Mare major, or Pontus Eaxinus
from one end to another in its length; after that, I say, they were come to the Bospherus of Thrace, in a place where they even touched the shoar, there arose so furious a wind, as they were constrained to take in all their sails. And whereas the Pilot had advertised Rustan, that he forc-saw the comming of a great storm, and that
within an hour at the furthest, he thought that in regard they were not far from a
place where the Skiff might easily land, it would not be amiss to perswade the
Princess to go ashoar, seeing they were within Solimans Dominion, and where they
needed not fear to abandon their Vessell. He caused then one of the Princesses
women to be called unto him for to acquaint her with the perill wherewith they
were threatned, that she might propound unto her the avoyding of it by the means
which I have related; this Maid, who out of the fear of death approved of Rustans proposition, did all that she could to get her Mistress to imbrace it: But this
couragious Princess said unto her with an admirable constancy, that she was resolved to attend the succor of Heaven, imagining indeed, that the storm wherewith
she was threatned, could bring no alteration to her fortune which would not be
advantagious to her. Daring this contestation the Sea was moved in such sort, as
it was out of all probability, had the Princess consented to what they desired of
her, for one to think that she could be saved in the Skiff; the tempest was so furious, the ayr so obscured, the thunder so loud, the lightning amidst the darkness so
dreadfull, the waves so high, the winds so terrible, the rain and hail so abundant,
and the roaring of the Sea so horrible, as it was impossible for one to conceive any hope of escaping from so evident a danger. They were two days beaten in this manner with the tempest, and tossed up and down with the wind and the waves,






without ceasing in the mean time to use their uttermost indeavour to with-stand it;
but at last they were fain to give way to this violence, and refer their lives to the
conduct of fortune. Already had the Pilot abandoned the Helm, his Compass stood
him in no stead, the Mast was all to shattered, the Sayl-yards torn off, the Tackle
rent in pieces, the Vessell took in water on every side, the souldiers cried out in
despair, the Mariners abandoned themselves to grief, the Princesses women were
all dissolved into tears, Rustan himself had almost lost his understanding, whenas
in the midst of so generall a consternation he heard the Princess cry unto him with
a quiet spirit, and with a setled and consident voyce; at length Axiamira shall not
be a Slave, she shall dye with glory, Heaven is armed for her succour, and (if I deceive not my self) her death shall be the cause of her revenge.  Scarcely had she
finished these words, whenas an hideous wave hitting the Vessell with an unexpressable impetuosity, dashed it with such violence against the point of a Rock, as
they suffered shipwrack in that very place.  I will not tell you. Madam, that which
Rustan himself could not tell us, for this misfortune was so sudden, as in an instant
he found, that of all his Vessell he had  nothing left him but a plank which
floated to his hand, as he was labouring in the water, and wherewith he saved his
life by sustaining himself upon it; for this man was so fortunate, as without other
industry than strongly fastning himself to this plank, the Sea (which according to
its custom retains nothing of all the rapines that it makes) cast him on the shoar,
where he remained almost in a swoon till the tempest was over, which was not long
first; so as it might have been said, that this Princess had served for an oblation
to pacifie the fury of the incensed waters; for two hours after she had suffred shipwrack, the Sun beginning to appear, dissipated the darkness of the night, and the
tempest, and restored calmness and tranquillity to the Sea. Rustan, being wholly
come to himself again, got up to the side of a Rock to see if he could discover any mark of so sad a wrack, but he could discover no other thing than some of the
Tackle and Planks of his Vessell, which the waves had brought to Land, so that despairing of any comfort he went to the ihabitation that was nearest to the place
where he was, and stayed these certain days to make search, if at least the body of
Axiamira might have been found, as also to meet with some means for him to return to Constantinople: As for the Pcincess, all his care in vain, he found indeed some
dead Souldiers and Mariners along the shoar, but of her he never could have any tidings; so that the unhappy Axiamira is doubtless without life, and without sepulture. In the mean time Rustan thinking of his return, although he were neer to a
place where Prince Gianger, the youngest of Solimans sonnes was residing, yet would
he not demand any assistance from him, for fear he should be obliged to tell him a
thing which was to be concealed; wherefore he had recourse to the Governor of
a small Town that was not above four miles from thence where he had suffred shipwrack, who furnishing him with all things requisite for his journey, he returned
by Land to Constantinople with so melancholick a countenance, as at first sight one
might easily perceive that his enterprize had not been prosperous: I was at that
time with his Highness, and I have not lost the remembrance of so dolefull a conversation. As soonas Rustan had made an end of relating to the Grand Signior
that which you have heard, he would have excused hmiself for having forcibly
carried away Axiamira without his order, but Soliman said unto him with a face
wherein grief and choller equally appeared, Speak no further unto me thou base
and infamous ravisher, and know, that if thou hadst not maried my daughter Chimeria,
thy death should have satisfied for that of Axiamira. Ah poor Princess,
said he, how deplorable is thy face! and how unhappy is mine! Then turning
himself to towards me, who was present at this mournfull relation, do not reproach
me, my dear Ibrahim, said he unto me, for not giving credit to thy counsell, which
I remember but too well for my content; and the estate wherein I am, punisheth me sufficiently for my imprudence: Can any innocent be found more infortunate than I? But what say I, innocent (continued he) I cannot be so of the death of this Princess; it is I that have delivered her into the hands of Rustan; it is I that have ex-




posed her to the tempest; and it is I that have been the cause of her loss. Could I be ignorant that she was not an ordinary person? No, Ibrahim, I could not; I loved her under the name of Felixana, but I was to adore her in my heart as a great
Princess; I saw something so high and so majesticall in the air of her face, as I
cannot be excusable for not knowing her; for howsoever, if the possession of Axiamira was necessary for my felicity, she was to be intreated after another manner
and if my love would have constrained me to have recourse unto violence, I should
have gone in person in the head of an hundred thousand men to make so noble a
conquest with honor; she should have been brought in a triumphant Chariot, and
not in the Vessell of a Traytor and impious man; I should not have thought of
possessing her till I had set a Crown upon her head; and if I could not have obtained her, I should have changed my love into respest, and with admiration have
looked upon a bliss that was forbidden me: But Rustan did not believe that I was
capable of such noble apprehensions, he hath judged of my minde by his own; he
thought because he is violent, that I should be wicked; he hoped for a recompence
of his crime, and out of an inhumanity which is without example, he hath betrayed an innocent Princess, he hath put a stain upon my life which I shall not be able
to deface, and hath reduced my soul to an estate never to be comforted. Then addressing his speech to the Princess, as if she could have heard him, and calling to
mind her last words, which he had caused to be repeated to him more than once, he
cried out with an exceeding transport. Yes, Axiamira, thy death shall be the cause
of the revenge which thou desirest, and the grief which I shall have for it all my
life, shall be instead of an eternall punishment unto me: There needs no Arms to
invade my State; there needs no proclamed Enemy to fight with me, I carry one in
my bosom which shall alwayes surmount me; repentance and sorrow shall be inseparably with my spirit, and the image of so unhappy, and of so beautifull a
person shall accompany me even to the grave. Soliman having been constrained
by the excess of his displeasure to give over speaking, I did what I could to restore
tranquillity to his soul, but his grief was so vive and so strong, as I needed a great
deal of time to vanquish, or to say better, to moderate it. Behold, Madam , the
History of the unfortunate Axiamira, all the particulars whereof which I have told
you, I learned from Rustan, and more too from one of his souldiers, who returned
a little after him, and was saved almost in the same manner. Isabella could not
then forbear interrupting of Justiniano, to lament the misfortune of Axiamira, but
after she had satisfied her compassion, she desired to make an end of contenting her
curiosity, and intreated Justiniano to continue his discourse, which he did in this
sort.
The Sequele of the History ofIustiniano.I Will not stand. Madam, to relate unto you, how I imployed my self after my return from Natolia, in regard I know that Doria purposed to let you understand, that Ibrahims Palace was built by my direction, and how it was in that intervall of peace, and assoon as I was Grand Viser, that I caused the ornaments thereof to be made, having seen that work finished but a little before Doriaes arrivall at Constantinople. It is true, said Doria, that I have a desire to describe that inchanted Palace to her Excellency, and to acquaint her with all the magnificences, and all the grandeurs which you have quitted for her sake; and to make her comprehend a part of what I say, I am but to present her with that which the Grand Signior hath sent her; saying so, he drew out of his pocket a box of gold which Soliman had delivered unto him, and having opened it, he let her see one of the goodliest things in the world. Isabella was so surprised with the richness of this present, as she would not have received it, but at length Doria having told her laughing, that he was not determined either to keep it, or to carry it back to Constantinople, she was constrained to accept of it. Doriaes jesting made Justiniano fetch a great sigh, beginning





already to apprehend the end of his narration, and for that cause had spun out
that of the Adventures of Axiamira as much as possibly he could, in exactly recounting her History; and all because he was not yet well resolved whether he should
deliver the truth of things to Isabella; in the mean time, whereas she was in much
impatience, and that night began to come on, she desired him not to lose such precious minutes, but to prosecute his discourse. I would willingly have had you dispence with me, answered Justiniano, for leading you once more to the wars, but
since you will be acquainted with all my fortunes, I am to let you understand, that
being absolutely determined not to wear a Turbant unprofitably for Christendom,
I had no other thought but to divert the Arms of Soliman from Hungary, where I
knew he had a design to imploy his greatest forces; the loss of Axiamira furnished
me soon after with means to put so just a resolution in effect: For whether it were
that some of the Princesses women were saved by a prodigious good hap, and had
acquainted Tachmas with the cause of the death of his daughter; or that the aboad, or sudden departure of Rustan, who had alwayes past at Mazanderon for a
Merchant of Coustantinople, had begotten some suspition of the truth, advertisement
came that Tachmas was levying a mighty Army: The Truce which had been so
long between these two Princes, could be no obstacle to this war, for it had never
been observed exactly; and some particulars had often committed acts of hostility
on either part, so that according to the Maxims of State, a plausible pretext could
not be wanting for an Army to march into the Orient, as often as Soliman had a
mind to it: In the mean time it happened that the Georgians having past over Euphrates, did much spoil in Comagena, robbing all that went to, or came from Mesopotamia, so that the Sangiacs of the Province having complained of it, and seeing
that Soliman took no order therein, they passed to Diarbech, where in all the Countrey about Birtha they did great havock, and rendred that with usury which the
Georgians had lent them. This conjuncture seeming too favourable unto me to be
neglected, I repaired unto Soliman, who notwithstanding the advertisement he had
received that Tachmas had put himself into Arms, could not be drawn for all that
to think of this war; the image of Axiamira reigned still in his heart; he could
not resolve to fight with the Father, whose daughter he had caused to perish; and
if some resentment of glory had not been still remaining in him, I think he would
rather have let Tachmas invade his Empire, than oppose himself against him. But
to shew unto you how hardly this Prince was drawn to make a war, which he
believed to be unjust, I have no more to say, than that after I had used all my address to remonstrate unto him, that the war of Persia was a thing no longer in
his choice, since knowing what his Governors had done in Diarbech, and Tachmas
having an Army on foot, he was not to doubt, yea though he wre ignorant that he
was the innocent cause of Axiamiraes death, but that he would fall upon him; that
after I had told him how it was alwayes advantagious for great Princes to begin
the War; that it was a mark of love to his Subjects, not to suffer the fire to be
brought into their houses; and that I had made him also to consider, that at last
it would be better to be in an estate to shew grace to his Enemy, than to receive it
from him; that in this occasion it did not concern his particular glory alone, but
that of the Empire; that being innocent of the misfortune of Axiamira, he was
not to fear that heaven would be contrary to him; and that if this death was to be
lamented, it would suffice to imploy his tears and sighs therein, without beholding
the blood of his Subjects shed.  After all these things, I say, he made no other
answer, but Axiamira is dead for me, I must sacrifice a part of my State for her; and
that my Subjects may not murmure at the Conquests which I shall suffer Tachmas to
gain upon me, I will labor to obtain others of the Christians, without obliging
thee, as I have promised, to serve me therein. I vow unto you, Madam, that this
discourse surprized me extremely, not knowing which way to oppose my self against a will so fully determined: And that which put me into further despair of
being able to execute my design was, that the Mother and Wise of the Emperour
hated me with a serret hatred, because I had always favoured Mustapha and Gianger,





excellent Princes, and the children of Soliman; for though this last be the sonne of Roxelana, yet leaves she not to hate him, because he loveth Mustapha: This hatred was the cause then that these two women opposed the voyage of Persia, onely to contradict me, with so much adress and violence, as I stood in need of some extraordinary mean to destroy all their artifices. The first represented unto Soliman, that the wars of the Orient had always been infortunate to the Othomans; that his Armies would be exterminated with hunger and thirst, if he carried them to a place from whence his father Selim, although victorious, brought back no other advantage, than the loss of his best souldiers. As for Roxelana, she imployed nothing but her tears, wherewith alone she was more powerfull than reason it self; so that all these things being joyned to the loss of Axiamira, wrought in such sort, as I saw almost an impossibility in diverting the storm which was ready to fall on Christendom: But in the end, after I had tried all wayes in vain, I bethought my self, how Soliman being mightily perswaded that Judiciary Astrology is a Science
which men may prastise with certainty, I might peradventure bring him to what
I desired, if I could get an Arabian come from Damascus, that was an excellent
Astrologer and Mathematician, called Mulé Aral,  whom the people accused of
Magick, by reason of the wonders which every day he did; hoping, after I had
won him with gifts, to make him say unto Soliman whatsoever I would have him.
I sent then secretly unto Damascius, not knowing how to meet with any other expedient that could satisfie me otherwise; and whereas my orders were as well executed as the Grand Signiors, it was not long before he was brought to me. In the
mean space I was resolved to speak no more of this war to Soliman, untill such time
as that which I projected should utterly fail me. As soon as Mulé Aral was arrived
at Constantinople, I talked with him in private, and after I had ingaged him absolutely to do what I would have him, I discovered my design unto him, which nevertheless I covered with the good and glory of the Empire, to the end too he might
serve me the more faithfully. But this man told me, how he held it fit that the Stars
should be observed, and his books consulted with a little about this war, because it
might so happen, that without any imposture or lying he should be obliged to perswade Soliman to this voyage; and howsoever, though the stars did not concur with
our intentions, yet would he be sure to keep his word with me. I parted with him
in this manner, having first intreated him to make a shew of the best effects of his Science at the Port, that so the Emperor might give the more credit to that which
he was to say unto him. Mulé Aral failed not in obeying me, for he had not been a
week at Constantinople every one spoke of the prodigies he did; and whereas he
was a great Physiognimist, he got a world of reputation in a short time. He foretold
to some that they should die the next day, which failed not to fall out accordingly;
to others he revealed the most secret adventures of their lives; and he was so happy 
that of all the things which he assured, none mist, or at leastwise might receive a favorable interpretation; so that the report hereof being come to Soliman, he sent for Mulé Aral, who in his presence told the Bassa of the Sea such things, as extremely surprized him; for he confessed, that every particular of that which he had told him, had befallen him accordingly. The grand Signior commanded him to follow him into his
Cabinet, where, as I knew afterwards, he declared unto him the most special passages of his life, & principally his love to Axiamira upon the sight of her picture, although I had not spoken to him of it; so as Soliman being mightily perswaded of the Science of this man, asked him whether he thought that the war against the Persians
would be
prosperous. But Mulé, who desired to finish his figures and observations, & to give the
more weight to that which he should say, answered Soliman,that things past were seen
with more certainty in the physiognomy, than things to come; & that for an affair of
so great importance, he demanded of him only six days to satisfie him fully: and for
the better carrying of the matter, he besought him to let him know the precise point
of his nativity, albeit he had been acquainted with it before by me. Soliman accorded
him his desire, and having given him leave to depart, rested so satisfied of him
as he was already disposed to govern his designs by Mulé Aral's answer; who





after he had made his observations, came one evening to me with a contented look,
and assured me, that his Science was false, or I should Crown Soliman King of Persia. It is certain, Madam, that I did not believe the discourse of this man, but onely
seemed to give credit to his words, to the end I might not disoblige him, although
the success of things afterwards made it good. The next day he went to Soliman
and with a confident countenance told him, that the war of Hungary would prove
unlucky to him if he undertook it, but that of Persia glorious; and assured him further, that if he entred first into the Enemies Countrey, one of his Slaves, whom
he very much loved, should Crown him King of Persia. Mulé accompanied this
discourse with so many circumstances, which would be too long to repeat, as at
length Soliman, who was very scrupulous in all things, which he believed came from
above, prepared himself for this war with as much precipitation, as he had had
repugnancy to it before. As soon as Mulé was gone, he sent for me, to command
me to alter all the direstions which he had given, and to cause all the Troops to be
inrolled for Persia: And whereas this Prince carried an unmeasurable affection
to me, he had charged Mulé not to discover any thing of that to me which he had
said to him, desiring to make me believe how it was in consideration of me that he
with-drew his Arms from Christendom, thereby to ingage me the more to his service. Whilst things were in this estate, an accident fell out which began to give
great hope of this voyage of Persia, and to confirm Soliman in the good opinion
which he had of Mulé Aral; for it hapned that one Ulama, Satrape of Caramania,
a man of great account with the Sophy, who had maried one of his sisters to him,
and though she dyed a little after this Mariage, yet did this alliance render him
more considerable than before. This man, I say, having received some out-rage
from that Prince, after he had served him in divers incounters with the expence of
his blood, requested of me that I would obtain some place of safety for him within Solimans Dominions. I will not tell you, Madam, what this excellent man did
in this war, since it is certain, that his generous actions doe well deserve a relation in particular; neither will I stand to recount this voyage exactly unto you;
wherefore, that I may not abuse your patience, and make the best use of the rest of
the day, I will only tell you. Madam, that having had a Commandment to conduct
the Vant-Guard with Ulama, I was so fortunate as I surprized Tauris without any
resistance, which at the first astonished the Enemies, who nevertheless left not to desend themselves couragiously in all other incounters. Tachmas performed wonders
in his own person, and so did also one Deliment; but at length fortune in two ranged battels declared her self for us; so that as soon as Soliman was arrived in person, he had almost no other imployment than to receive the Deputies of Townes
which submitted to his obedience. A part of Assyria and Mesopotamia were subjected unto him, but in such sort, and so absolutely, that from the Mart of Balzera,
which stands at the mouth of Euphrates, entring into the Gulf of Persia, even to the
last Town, they rendred all unto him.  The most notable of this great number
were Caramida, Medinum, Orfa and Ancefa; but that which Soliman rejoyced most
at, was the reduction of Bagdet, where he was Crowned King of Persia by the hands
of the Caliph, who to do me honor, and to testifie that I had contributed somewhat to the happy success ofthis war, would needs have me serve in the Ceremony,
and help him to set the Crown on the head of Soliman; so that by this circumstance
nothing was more to be added to Mulé Arals Predictions, who at our return was
recompenced sufficiently.  Afterthis, his Highness bestowed some time in giving
directions for all things before his return to Constantinople, where he was resolved
to be received in triumph, but a little sickness that he fell into by the way deferred this publique rejoycing, which nevertheless was performed within a while after; and I may say that this Triumph was as happy for me, as it was glorious for
Soliman^ seeing it was there that I came to know Doria in the habit of a Slave, who
can recount unto you. Madam, that fortunate dayes passage more agreeably than I
could. Justiniano, having said this, became so confused, as if one of the Princesses
Gentlemen had not advertised her, that the Count of Lavagna, accompanied with



the Marquis of Tonraine, was come to visit her in the behalf of the Senate, she had
perceived the disorder of his spirit. After she had heard the message that was
brought her, she rose up, and giving her hand to Justiniano, she said unto him with
a very well satisfied countenance, Doe not think to lay upon your friend the trouble to acquaint me with the rest of your Adventures, he hath had enough already in going to Constantinople to justifie me unto you, besides what he is to be at in
relating to me that which hath arrived to himself in particular; but to let you
see, continued she that I am not tyrannicall, I will give you time to content my
curiosity, in the mean space I think it fit we should go and receive the Civilities
of the Senate: Thir said, she suffred her self to be lead in one hand by Justiniano,
and in the other by Doria, whom she had retained as he was about to with-draw,
and the rest of the troop followed after. All the way Isabella continually admired the marvellous effects of Justiniano's fortune, but in what manner soever she
considered them, she still returned to speak of the obligation wherein he stood ingaged to Soliman: I must consess, said she to Justiniano, that if this Prince be such
as you have delivered him, he may be stiled the wonder of our Age, and is my
Religion did not forbid it me, I would quit my Countrey with joy to live under
his Dominion. This discourse made Justiniano to tremble, but Doria laying
hold on her speech, confirmed her yet more in the advantagious opinion which
she had of Soliman, and Justiniano being come to himself again, assured her that all
which he had said of him was very far short of the truth. This fair Troop entertained themselves in this sort, untill that being arrived neer to the Castle, the
Count and the Marquis came to meet the Princess, who entertained them with a
great deal of respest. The Count, to acquit himself of the Commission which
the Senate had given him, said unto her, that he was not come only to congratulate with her for the happy return of Justiniano, but also to give her thanks for it,
as the most important service that ever she could have rendred to the Republiqiie;
that this favour from Heaven was doubtless due to her vertue, and to the vowes
she had made for him, rather than to the desires of the Senate, who had rendred
themselves unworthy of it; how to testifie unto her, that the present had utterly
defaced the remembrance of the past, he intreated her that she would honor Genoua
with her presence, whenas she had resolved upon the triumph of Justiniano, to
the end that by the pomp and magnificence which they would bring unto it, they
might at leastwise testifie their joy, although they could not testifie their acknowledgement. This discourse made Justinianoes heart to pant, and the Princess to
change colour; for she understood well enough, that the triumph he spake of, was
to be her mariage. She answered with very much modesty, that generall causes being without doubt more favoured of Heaven, than particular interests, it was to
be certainly believed, that Justiniano had been restored to his Countrey for the only glory of the Republick; and that having nevertheless encountred her particular felicity in this generall happiness, she had more reason to give thanks unto
the Senate, than to receive any from them; but, continued she, interrupting Justiniano, who would have answered that which she had said of him, it will be more
convenient for us to enter into the Castle for to tell you there what I thinke of it,
than to stay any longer in a place which the night that is now at hand would
render incommodious. The Count then presented the Marquis of Touraine unto
her, whom they called at Genoua the French Marquis, and assured her that he was
a man whoso condition and merit were not unworthy of her knowledge and
esteem. There needs no more, said the Princess, to commend and render him
agreeable to me, than that he is your friend, and that you esteem of him; whereupon she entertained him with a great deal of curtesie, and the Marquis saluting her with very much respect, besought her to judge of him by the Counts opinion, rather than by his own, whenas he should have the honour to be known of her. After this complement, the Princess presented her hand to the Count, and looking on Justiniano, Doria, and the French Marquis, as though she had been




sorry that she could not share her Civilities amongst them, universall beauties
were the object of their entertainment, during the little way that remained for
them to goe.  The situation of this place is so delicate, the prospect of it so
pleasant, and the setting of the Sun was that evening so glorious, with the diversity of vive and rich colours, which the gold of his Rayes imprinted on the
Clouds, and reflected on the Sea, as it is not to be thought strange, that a
discourse so common should make up the conversation of such extraordinary
persons. As for Doria, he went along talking to the French Marquis, who led
Æmilia by the arm, that seemed not unpleasing to him: And in this manner they entred into the Castle, where the Princess treated them as
magnificently, as is she had been prepared of a long
time to receive them.
Here ends the first Part.
IBRAHIM: OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The second part.The first Book.PResently after supper the Princess, perceiving that the Marquis
was gon from the company, demanded of the Count whether
it were true that he had brought the French liberty into Genoua,
as he had formerly told her during the time of her solitariness.
It is so true (answered the Count ) that if you knew in what
fashion we live, you would be surprised with it; Howbeit your
amazement would cease as soon as you should know the wit, humour, and address of the French Marquis. And seeing his precepts are not opposite to pleasure, but yet conserving Vertue with a great deal of
respect, he was not much troubled to find out followers, both amongst the men and
the Ladies. But is it possible (said Justiniano) that he could vanquish that jelousie
which it so naturall to those of our Nation? He hath for that (replied the Count)
made use of an artifice, which he alone was able to invent: He observed within a
little time, after I had made him known to all the persons of quality, every love in
Genoua, and wrought so well by his address, that in a short while he was the universall confident thereof. When as he saw himself master of all mens secrets, he began
to perswade us all in particular to the French liberty; to call us Tyrants over our
wives; and to make us comprehend that there was extreme injustice in prohibiting
conversation unto Ladies, who alone could render it agreeable; That as for him, he
was resolved to make them happy whether they would or no: and for that effect
(said he unto us) all they that have sisters must permit me to see and talk with them,
to the end that having made them know, how Vertue ought not to be untractable,
and how they think more harm when they are by themselves, than they would do
if they knew us more particularly, I may make that succeed which I have projected
for your advantage. Besides (said he unto us) this essay cannot be dangerous; for
whereas I never have an affection that lasts above a week, you need not fear that
I shall make any great progress therein. Each one in particular durst not refuse
him that which he demanded, as being his confident; so that in a short time hee was
introduced into all the Houses of quality, mauger the severity of fathers, and the reservedness of mothers. For he hath so complying a spirit, that he knowes how to
take upon him all formes; and for gallantry, no man can be so proper for it as he:
he sings very sweetely; he playes upon the Lute and the Gittern; he daunces with
a good grace; he limnes and paints well; he writes excellent letters; he makes verses in our tongue, as ifhe were an Italian; and his conversation is so intertaining
that it is as impossible to be without friendship for him, as for him to be without affection. Whereupon it is easie to imagine that he had quickly perswaded that which
he desired. But to begin the introdustion of the thing publiquely, one day when there was a bal, and the company assembled together, he approached boldly to the




principall mayds ofthe Citie; for he feared not so much the brothers as the husbands;
and told them openly, he was ashamed for them, that they should be separated from
the rest of the company, as if they were unworthy to be of it: and then hee made a Satyre against that custome, which he must one day rehearse unto you. When as everyone took delight herein, and that he knew he should be supported by all the
young folks, and that the Ladies in their hearts wished him no hurt, he desired all
the company, that they would for this evening onely carry themselves as is they
were in France, and follow his directions, to the end he might at leasure make the
Ladies see, who do not travell, the difference that was between the one and the other.
Hereupon all those of his faction cryed it up with a great applause, and his advice
was followed, although there were some that did not allow of it: The women also made some difficulty thereof; but at last the Marquis prevailed. He changed then
the whole Order of the company, saying it was the custome of France, that conversation should be the greatest pleasure of a bal; so that he played the master of the Ceremonies in such manner, as in placing every one, without shewing himself affected therein, hee placed each one according to his inclination. After that it
was a good while before he would suffer the Violins to play, that the more commodity might be given to talk; and in this sort, every one for his particular interest, found himself so satisfied, as there was not any but avowed, that they had taken more delight in this assembly, than in all the rest that ever had been. Since that,
he hath wrought so well with nine or ten interessed persons, as we meet two or
three times a week five or six families together, where verily he delivers such pleasing things, as cannot be repeated unto you, without losing much of their grace. It
must be acknowledged (said the Princess) that this is a rare man, and deserves that
I should inform my self by what happy adventure hee hath preferred Italy before
France, for I have heard that he is a man of quality. You have reason, Madam (said
the Count) to call it happy for us, but it hath not been happy for him, though the
end was to him glorious. I beleeve (said Justiniano interrupting him) that her excellency would be well contented to understand his fortune. And I (replied the
Count) to obey her, if I did not fear that the Marquis will not give me leasure for
it, but will come and interrupt my recitall thereof. I am much deceived (said Doria)
if he doe not give you all the oportunity you can desire; for I have well observed
that the faire Emilia hath not displeased him; and that being gone from hence, because she was not well, he followed her carefully with his eyes, and if I mistake not,
he is gone to seek out some occasion to see her, or to premeditate some letter, or
verses to express his passion. The Count being of Doriaes opinion, yeelded to the
request which the Princess had made him, and began to speak in these termes.
The History of the French MarquisI shall tell you then, Madam, that the Marquis is of an illustrious House, and of a
Province in France, the name whereof is not in my remembrance; and without
particularising any thing more of his life, than the last action which gave him unto
us, you are to know that his vertue begot him envie, and consequently enemies in
his country. And whereas he had alwaies lived at court, and in the warres, the late
King Francis shewed him a great deal of respect and good will, although hee was
as then but very young. He had not been wanting then at the battell of Pavy, where
he had performed wonders in person, and so happily for his g!ory, as the King himself had been a witness of his valor; yet were there afterwards for all that three
Gentlemen in his Country, whereof the one was called Marsé, the second Beniers,
and the other Dincourt, amongst whom fell out a quarrell, occasioned by the doubt
of his valor. Marsé had hated the Marquis of a long time, so as it is credible, that
being unable to finde out any other meanes to deface his glory, hee published
openly, albeit neither he, nor the other two, had ever parted from their houses during the warre, that the Marquis had fled from the battell of Pavy. This discourse



comming to the Kings ear, at such time as the Marquis was not at the Court, nor had head any thing that was spoken against him, this Prince, who loved him dearly, thought he should oblige him, if he sought further into the matter. Hee sends for Marsé then to know of him from whom he had received that which he had reported: Marsé answers that a Gentleman, named Dincourt, had assured it unto him, and Dincourt appearing said, that contrarily Marsé had told him, how he had heard it from one called Beniers. Dincourt seeing that Marsé did not contradict him, besought the King that he might not bee involved in this affayr; the King grants his request, returns him home, and commands Beniers to present himself, as he does: the King demands of him whether he had told Marsé, that the Marquis had fled from the Battell of Pavy: Beniers stoutly maintaines that he had never said any such thing, and gives the other the lye. The King, who was willing to force two men, who had not been in the warres, to fight, told them, that to discover which of them had been the author of this falsehood, he would have them fight a single combat, and that he would honour it with his presence. They accept of it, and the next
day, the lists being prepared, and the King being placed on a scaffold with all his
Court, and invironed with a great multitude of peoole, he Beniers appear, conducted by a gentleman of his friends; and Marsé at the other end of the field brought
in by one of his kinimen. Beniers would needs fight with two swords, and but half
armed; so that either of them had a Corslet on with long tasses, sleeves of mail,
gantlets, a cask on his head, a sword in his right hand, & another in his left, with each
of them a dagger by his side. This new spectacle drew the eyes of everyone upon them,
but at length, after the sound of trumpets, the oaths, & other ceremonies requisite in
such like actions, they began their combat, wherein they both shewed a great deal of
adress and valour. At the first Marsé seemed to have some advantage of the other, he
appeared more active, more ardent, and more vigorous; but towards the midst of the
combat it was easie to judge, that Beniers had made spare of his forces to give the other leasure to spend his. Marsé grew faint, & the other so couragious, as no man had
ever seen one fight more valiantly. They were a long time before they could hurt one
another; for it hapned that those two swords, which each of them had, and that carried terror by the eyes to the heart of those who beheld two men armed in that manner, were notwithstanding against their intention a meanes to make the combat endure; in regard that the left hand sword served to ward the blowes which they gave
one another, aswell as if each of them had had a buckler. When they perceived that
their own armes kept them from destroying themselves, they cast away their swords
both at once, and falling a grapling together with a great deal of precipitation they
had recourse to their daggers: But Beniers being the stronger, and the more delyver,
hath Marsé down under him, and his hand wherewith beheld his dagger being ingaged under the others, Beniers seekes for nothing else but a place not desended by
his cuirace where he might kill him, & already had he his arm lifted up for to stabb
hem, whenas the King, who would not lose a man which had shewed so much courage, threw down his warder in the midst of the field to make them leave off, which
caused the people to give a great shout for joy, whereat Benires turning his head about gave Marsé oportunity to disingage himself, and in this manner the Kings authority finished their combat. But admire. Madam, the caprichiousness of chance, by
this which I am coming to tell you: The Marquis, about whom the quarrell was, arrives in post at the very same Towne, where the combat was sought; he askes where
the King is? and whereas the people are never well informed of things, he is only told,
that he is beholding a combat, which he hath permitted unto two Gentlemen, who
had required it of him. This novelty touches him with curiosity; he goes without
further inquirie, or any thought that he had any interest in this affair: he comes thither, hee beholds the combat a while amongst the multitude, makes vowes for Marsé,
whose demeanor and personage pleased him, wishes against his own proper interest
that he may carry away the victory, and without knowing it takes his enemies part.
But one of his friends having perceived him, approaches to him, and in few words
recounts him the whole matter, and withall possesses the mind of the Marquis with




shame, despight, and fury. There is one then (said he unto him that had acquainted
him with this bad newes) which dares accuse me of cowardise; and even the King,
who knowes full well whether I fled from the battell or no, in stead of punishing this
Impostor, does him the grace to permit him the combat; renders himself judge of
it, is ready to heap glory on him, and to declare him victor if he surmounts his enemy. No, no,I cannot suffer it, and I must cast my self disarmed as I am,into the midst
of the lists; I must fight with them both together, or asunder, it matters not which, so
as I may be revenged, or die gloriously. As he was in this resolution the King threw
down his warder to make the combat cease; and though the Marquis his minde was
much troubled, yet had he observed that Beniers was in a condition to be victorious
over his enemy, at such time as the King had given that signall of peace; which put
him into such strange choler, as hee resolved to break through the press, to goe present himself, and in person demand satisfaction for the outrage had been done
him by so black a calumnie. What (said he to himself, in seeking still to approach
neerer) the King takes care for the life of a man that spoyles me in my honour! hee
hath not permitted the combat then, but out of hope that my enemy would vanquish,
since assoon as it appeared that he had the worst, he retayned the hand of him that
would have stabbed him, and saved the other from the punishment which he was going to receive: But it is just that he should perish by my hand; and that I should
be revenged by my relf. In the mean time the press was so great, and the people
so thronged together for to hear what the King said to Marsé and his adversary, as
the Marquis could not come neer him, till he had told them, that their courage had
obliged him from having either of them acknowledged for the calumniator: and
that in persuance of this grace he commanded them to publish every where, how they
knew from his mouth, that the Marquis had been one of the formost in the front of the
battell; that he had been one of the last which he had seen fighting about him; and
that if all the rest had done their devoir aswell as he, he had not lost his liberty. Then
turning himself to the principall persons of his Court, I am (said he) a witness of
that which I say; and is any one dare make any doubt of my speech, I will make him
feel what the displeasure of an incensed Prince is. The Marquis seeing the King
leave off speaking, cast himself at his feet, and surprised in such sort, both the
Court, his enemies, and the King himself, as it was a good while before hee could
be heard, so great was the murmure. But at length,after the people had been commanded to silence, the Marquis spake to him much after this manner. I know very
well, Sir, since your Majestie is satisfied of my courage, that I should be so too; but
it is not sufficient for your glory, that they whom you favour should be valiant, they
ought also for the justifying of your judgement to be thought such by all the world;
And therefore (if I may be permitted to speake so) I cannot indure that they, who
have traduced me two hundred leagues from the battell, should not by experience
undestand, that I know not how to recoil, either in a generall, or particular combat:
Grant me then out of justice that, which you have granted out of grace to mine enemie; your equity and your glory is concerned herein, and you cannot refuse me
the combat which I demand, without covering me with shame and confusion. The
King having attentively heard him, said, that his resentment was noble, but he
could not for his own glory accord him that which he desired: That the publique
testimony which he had given of his valour, was more glorious than the death of
his enemy, who by his commandment would be constrained to publish all his lifetime the contrary of that which he had reported; That if he should permit him
the combat, he should seem to posterity, that he himself had made doubt of his valour; that it would be to equall him with his enemy, which by no means he would
do, neither was it just he should. The Marquis, hearing the King speak after
this sort, was so seised with spight and grief, as he could not answer him. In the
mean time the King, advising with the chiefest of his Court about what satisfaction
he might give the Marquis, never heeded his going away; for suddenly thrusting
himself amongst the press, he did so, as before he could be followed he took post, and went and hid himself in one of his friends house, forty Leagues off, with an



intent not to stir from thence but to be revenged. The King was much offended with this action of his, and although he loved the Marquis exceedingly, yet his authority seeming to be contemned thereby, he testified a great deal of displeasure for it. He charged Marsé not fight with him, and yet commanded him to acknowledge every where, how that which he had said was false. This while the Marquis caused his enemy to be observed, and received news of whatsoever passed at Court; and whereas he hath a great and generous spirit, the alteration of the Kings favour towards him touched him so sensibly, as he desired his friends not to think of restoring him thereunto: He took 
order secretly for his affairs, setled his estate,
raised a mass of mony, great enough to undertake a long voyage; and that done,
resolves to fight, not only with Marsé, but also with Beniers, not knowmg, said he,
whether he had not spoken that which he disavowed; and after all, to quit the Kingdom for ever. But the latter gave him not leave to execute his design; for he died
of sickness. As for Marsé, as soon as he knew that he was returned into his countrey, he sent him a challenge; whereunto he answers, that in regard of the Kings
charge to the contrary, he could not accept of it. The Marquis netled with this
refusall, resolved to force him to fight; and watching for him a good while after
in a Wood, that was not far from Marsés house, and whither he went oftentimes
to walk, he perceived one morning a Provost-Marshall, accompanied with two of
his fellows, who came along thorough the Forrest; he hid himself for fear of discovery, and heard that oneof them named him, and said that the King would have
him apprehended if he could be found. This discourse obliged him to follow them
afar off; but he was much astonished when hc saw them enter into Marsés house:
whereupon he no longer doubted, but that it would be impossible for him of a long
time to find an opportunity to fight with him. He informs himself more particularly of the business; remains certain daies about this house, and at length learns,
that the Provost-Marshall was sent to Marsé to apprehend him; for the King had
been advertised both of his retreat, and of the time when he departed to return into has Country; So that oppressed with many misfortunes, he resolved to go and pass
away certain moneths in some other place, hoping that in the mean time they
might peradventure be wearied with continuall guarding of Marsé. He went then
into Provence for his more security, where one of his particular friends lived, that
was retired from the Court. Being there, he understands that the Kings displeasure
is pacified, and that his enemie is dead; so that the impossibility which he saw to be
revenged, makes him take the resolution never to appear again at a Court, whose
Prince had not intreated him very well. He passeth into Italie, as being Master of
his Actions and Estate; and after he had seen all that is remarkable on this side the
mountains, he staied in the end at Genoua, where such pleasant things have arrived
unto him, as one vvould hardly beleeve they vvere true, they vvere so extraordinary. You have much obliged me, said the Princess, by acquainting me vvith all
these passages; but I vvould fain know, vvhat cause Marsé had so to hate him? I
rather think Madam (replyed the Count) that there was some love in the quarrel;
if I be not deceived, Marsé had four sisters, and the Marquis but one; and they were
both neighbours together in the country, so that visiting one another very often,
according to the custom of France, Marsé fell in love with the Marquis his Sister
and the Marquis, who alwaies returns Love with usury, became enamoured of all
his four at once. He loved the eyes of the one, the stature of the other, the voyce of
the third, and the wit of thelast. And in these four mayds, he said that he had the
most accomplished Mistris in the worid. This folly lasted long enongh to give Marsé leasure to become desperately in love with the Marquis his sister, who at her brothers intreaty had entertayned him very civily during certain moneths that he was away in the Province, albeit she could by no meanes indure him. In the mean while the time of his return being come, Marsé begins to think seriously of his affaires, beleeves they will succeed well; and finding that the Marquis took great delight in resorting to his house, thinks to give him the choice of his four sisters, and by that exchange hopes to estabilish his felicity, and possess his Mistris. He



imployes one therein, who was a friend both to him and the Marquis; gives him order to discover which of his Sisters he hath a mind to, that he may prepare her to intertain him the better. This friend acquits himself dexterously of his Commission, he repairs to the Marquis, speakes to him of Marsés Sisters, and demands of him
which of them pleaseth him most. He answers, that they please him all alike;
that the eldest is plump, fair-hayr'd, white-skin'd; that she hath a great deal of
sweetness in her eyes, and in her humour, but that it is great pity she is no taller.
This man, who was called Alsac, beleeved that this was she which touched the
Marquis his heart, since he found but this little defect in her. But the other proceeding on in his discourse, he thought it was the second; for (said the Marquis)
the advantagious stature of the next; that stately look; that dark hair; that ovall
visage; and that noble pride, which appears in her port and all her actions,
would render her incomparable, were her complexion somewhat clearer, and that
she spake a little more than she does. I was deceived (said Alsac then) and it is
this same that hath vanquished him. But (continued the Marquis) the mouth of
the third; her white teeth; that quaintness which she hath in the ayr of her face;
that merry and joviall humour; and that which goeth beyond all the rest, that
charming and passionate voice, which she governs with so much art, gives
her such a grace, as would make her surmount all hearts, were it not for a little
inequality of humour that appears in her. Nay now I know not which of them
it is, said Alsac to himself; but for the last (continued the Marquis) it must be
acknowledged, that that fresh and vermilion hew, proceeding from her youth,
which may be named the soul of beauty; those sparkling eyes; that black hair;
that comely neck; that mean and well proportioned stature; those white hands;
and that which is most marvellous in the age of fifteen yeares, that nimble wit,
which renders her the entertainment of a company; which makes her talk very
agreeably of all matters; and which puts a particular charm into every part of
her; deserves almost the whole heart of a worthy man, if she did not live in the
Country, and had but for six moneths onely breathed the air of the great world:
but that originall sin which takes off much of her value, and the sole thought
that she is a country Gentlewoman, is a soveraign preservative for a man of the
Court. Alsac was then very much perplexed; howbeit he conceived that the obstacle which the Marquis brought to this last, was the least considerable; and that
thereby he would conceal his passion. But this conjecture was not for all that so
strong, as he durst settle his judgement on it, as on an indubitable thing.
He presses the Marquis yet in another manner, and precisely demands of him,
whether he be in love or no; the Marquis, who thought he was not to speak seririously, answers, that he is, more than all the men of the wodd; the other intreats him to tell him with whom; and the Marquis, who believes that this man
hath no hidden design, is contented to tell him, for to keep him still in doubt,
that it sufficeth he assures him, how in that which he loves, all the beauties of the
body, and all the graces of the mind, are incountred; and that a master-peece of
Nature might be made of it, if one could see together, what he loves asunder.
Alsac comprehended nothing  by this discourse, although it were true in
the Marquis his sence, who indeed was in love with these four maids; in each
of which he found things that touched his heart, and others that did not please
him.This man then being in dispair of being able to acquit himself of his Commission, enquires howsoever, whether it be at Court, or in the Country, that he loves?
The Marquis answers, how it is in the Coutry that he loves, and after this they
part. Alsac goes to Marsé, and tels him that all the fruit of his voyage is, how
he certainly knows that the Marquess is in love in their Country, and that of necessity it must be in his house, since there were no other Gentlewomen thereabout;
but to undcrstand precisely which of his Sisters held the chiefest place in his heart,
was impossible for him to discover, so well had he spoken to him of all four, howbeit it seemed to him that the last touched him a little more than the rest; but



this too was so uncertain, as he counselled him not to rely on it. Marsé finds himself hereupon sufficiently troubled, howsoever he resolvs to clear himself therein, and beleeves that entertaining all his Sisters, one by one in particular, he may discover the truth; it being impossible, said he, but that I shall observe by their countenances, to which of them he hath spoken seriously of love. He sends for the eldest to him into his Cabinet, speaks to her with a great deal of testimony of good will, and to oblige her the more easily to discover her heart unto him, he assures her that he thinks of nothing with more care, than to establish her Fortune; that he should hardly resolve to marry before her; and at length, having made a turn or two, he demands of her whether the Marquis had ever given her any particular proofs of his affection, and whether that match would be agreeable unto her. This proposition having made her blush, she answers, casting down her eyes, that in this occasion she had no other will but his, and that she was ready to obey him. How it was true, that the Marquis had testified that he greatly esteemed her, and that in a hundred encounters he still seemed to prefer her before the rest, and that she also had known how to acknowledge his merit to the prejudice of them that came neer him; but that for three 
or four dayes since he had
applyed himself more in talking to the third than he was accustomed to do. This
Maid giving no further marks in this discourse of the love the Marquis bore her,
than that which she bore to him by the jealousie which she shewed, Marsé was at a
nonplus; he perceives by his Sisters speech, that the Marqtus had spoken to her
of love; that she did not hate him; and that she suspects notwithstanding that he
hath a mind to her which sings, although according to Alsacs opinion it should
be to the youngest. Howbeit he conceals his unquietness from his Sister, and resolves to sound them all, charging this not to speak a word to the rest of what
had past between them. She withdraws, and the second arrives with a look and
a modesty that made him beleeve he should be much troubled to draw anything
out of her concerning that which he desired to know. But he was much amazed, when as at the first proposition which he made to her of it, she freely told
him, but with some little preparation before hand, that she beleeved the Marquis
loved her eldest as a Sister; that he delighted to hear the third sing; that the wit
of the last did not displease him; but as for her, she thought that he had given
her such tokens of his esteem of her, as he had given to none of the rest; and
that he had at sundry times spoken to her in that manner, as she could no longer
doubt of it. Howbeit, that for three or four dayes last past, she thought that to
spight her, or to make her more favourable unto him, he had caused one of her
Sisters to sing more, and had eyed the youngest more than he used to do. That
as for her, she could alwayes rule her will by his, but if he would permit her
to speak the truth, she must confess unto him, that she could be contented to marry with a Courtier, being so strongly dis-inclined from the Country, as she could
hardly resolve to talk with them that came to visit her. Her Brother promises to
doe what he can to content her, and having charged her to be secret, he dismisses
her, and sends for the third. What shall I make of all this (said Marsé to himself) I cannot learn yet whether the Marquis be truly in love or no, however I
am sure that I have two Sisters which are already desperately in love with him,
but it may be, continued he, that the other two will clear this enigma unto me.
In the mean time she whom he had sent for appears with her jocund humour; she
demands of him at the first dash, whether it were to propound a Lover unto her
that he had sent for her so in secret; he answers her,that she was not deceived, for indeed it was to ask of her whether the affection of the Marquis did satisfie her?
She replyes laughing, that the obligation which she had unto him for having
taught her so many excellent ayrs, for having taken such pains to make her sing
well, and to tune her Lute to her voice, deserved that her answer should be favourable unto him. But, said Marsé to her, speak seriously, for though you be the third, yet if the Marquis loves you, you shall be the first married. Can you doubt of it, said she? and see you not that the conformity which is between us



must needs produce a fair affection? He is merry, I am not melancholick; he understands musick, and I can sing; he plays on the Lute, and so doe I; he dances admirably, and I doe not dance with an ill grace; in conclusion, there is a kind of I know not what invisible thing, called, as I think, Sympathy, which makes us that we cannot hate one another. I but, replied Marsé, this is not enough, and you must tell me more seriously whether he loves you. Expect not any thing more serious from me, said she, for I should cease to be that I am, and preadventure should not please the Marquis, if I were wiser; wherefore be pleased to let me tell you only, that if he speaks to you with as good a grace when he demands me of you, as he did in discovering his passion unto me, I shall not answer him cruelly.
After this she went away singing a Song which the Marquis
had made for her, and left Marsé so confounded, as he could scarcely beleeve
what he had heard. But at length the last arrives, and whereas he knows that she
had more wit than the rest, he also imployes more art in speaking to her: He
cajols and carresses her; calls her his Favourite, and his dearest Sister; and after an hundred protestations of good will, conjures her to deal ingenuously with
him; and to oblige her the more, confesses unto her, that he is in an extreme passion for the Marquis his Sister; and beleeving that he is so too for her, he desires
her to tell him the truth of it, and if it be so, to use him kindly, for fear he should
oblige his Sister to oppose his affection. She answers thereunto with a great
deal of wit, that she would think her self infinitely happy to be sacrifised for the
felicity of her Brother; but as for that which concerned the Marquis, she was to
tell him, that her life had not yet been long enough to bc able to discern a feigned affection from a true; that it was so little a while since one had given over
intreating her like a Girl, that she durst not as yet rely on her judgment; that indeed it was true, the Marquis had taken some such particular care of her, as made
her think he did not wish her ill; and whereas he was the first worthy man that
had spoken civilly unto her, she confessed freely unto him, she could not chuse
but be obliged to him for it; but that therein she promised to follow his directions exactly. The address of this maid was not such, but that her Brother perceived by the change of her countenance that the Marquis pleased her more than she
made shew of: But whereas he desired to have the liberty to think of so strange an
adventure, he sends her away, injoyns her to be secret, and assures her that he will
alwayes testifie that she is dearer to him than his other Sisters. When she was gone,
he fell a walking up and down (for the Marquis knew all these things afterward
by the third of these Gentlewomen, who out of the conformity that was betwixt
them continued still his friend, maugre all their disorders) and having been a while
without speaking; What, said he, the Marquis shall make my four Sisters be in love
with him, whilst himself peradventure is not taken by any of them, and I shall be
so unhappy as not be able to touch the inclination of his one? He will laugh in
his mind at his conquests, and my misfortune; and whilst to the prejudice of my
house he shall be laden with the favours of four maids, I shall get but cold civilities from her, whom I love passionately, and that alone can make up my felicitie.
But, continued he, what counsell can I take? If I have recouse to violence; if I quarrell with him; if I fight with him, and will make him explain himself by force,
for the interest of my Sisters, then I ruine my self with her; I lose the hope of ever
possessing her; and it would be an ill way for one to prove his love unto a generous
person, to kill her Brother. It is better for me then to dissemble a while; to observe all his actions; to endeavour yet to discover whom the Marquis is in love
withall; and if at last I can learn nothing certain, then to propound unto him
the choice of my Sisters, in demanding of his. Behold in what sort Marsé reasoned with himself about so intricate an affair (at leastwise he hath recounted it
since in this manner.)  But as Marse was thus troubled at home, so was the Marquis in some sort with his Sister, who having another design with herself than
the marrying of Marsé, would have him dispense with her for entertaining him
any longer, and permit her to take all hope from him. Howbeit the Marquis,


who could not endure that his Sisters rigour should deprive him of the favours of all Marsés, unto whom he durst not have gone any more, if once she should have put him into despair, could not consent unto her desires. Why, Sister, said he unto her, you see me to be a hundred leagues from the Court, in a solitary Country, where one can hardly behold any thing that so much as resembles a woman, and you will be so cruell as to deprive me of a company, wherein I meet with
four very amiable ones; so as if it be true that the loss of one Mistress brings an
unquietness that cannot be ended but by Iron or Poyson, what doe you think will
become of me, when you shall have taken from me four at a time, which I love passionately; and in a place where I can find no others? If I were at Paris, I should comply with you herein, not onely for fower, but for thirty, being well assured that I
should repair this loss in a little time: But in the midst of a desert to deprive me of
four sole maides whom I can love, is so great an inhumanitie, in the humor wherein
I am, as if you consider it seriously you must needs repent you of it. But, answered
his Sister laughing, you doe not love them, for how can you share your self amongst so many? Not love them (replyed the Marquis) naughty Sister, come, you
doe not know me, if you believe as you say; for it is most certain that I love them
with all my soul; and that in all my life I never found my self so constant, nor so
amorous. And whereas this maid could not very easily comprehend, how a man
could love four at once, and tearm himself constant: for to make her understand it,
he told her, that by a very extraordinary adventure he had no great affection for
any of them in particular, but meeting in these four persons separately, with that,
which he would have in one alone, he was so desperately in love therewith, as he
was never in such a passion before. He told her further, that ordinarily when he
found any thing that was amiable in a woman, he excused the defects which were
in her, and became in love with all her person; but that in this incounter, through
a caprichiousness of love, he was wounded in another sort. For, said he seriously,
it would be impossible for me, in the estate wherein my mind now is, to love any of
those maides single; and I am never more joyfull than when I see them all four together. I behold the whitness ofthe first; the look ofthe second; I hear the voice of
the third; and admire the gentleness of the last. In conclusion, I am so satisfied with
this manner of loving, that when I could, by an unheard-of miracle, take from those
four maides all that doth please me in them, to make thereof a Master-piece and a
mervail, such as I may imagine, yet should I rather chuse to love them as I doe. For
if I should love but one of them, I should be without consolation when she were in
choler; whereas contrariwise I am never altogether unhappy: if I have angred the
fair one, the brown one regards me favourably; and if I am out with the serious
one, the merry one comforts me with her jocund humor; and when it falls out,
that I am upon good tearmes with all the four, I have such delight as cannot be exprest. One prepares a bracelet for me, another ties a band about my hat, a third
gives me powder and essences, whilst the fourth causes her picture to be drawn for
the love of me. In pursuance hereof, I sing a song that is agreable to all four, which
each of them applies to their own particular for a mark of my affection, and which
they all commend with address and joy: and that which is yet more worth than all
these things, is, that this passion is so fair and so extraordinary, as the end of it can
never be unhappy. For when as I my self would contribute to mine own ruine, it
is impossible that ever I should arrive to that infortunate terme, which for the most
part finishes all loves, I mean marriage. If I should love one of these maides, it may
be that utterly losing all reason against my custom, I should also mary her; but loving these four sisters as I doe, unless the Law should permit me to mary them all
four, as the Turkes does, I am in no danger of being their husband. In this manner
I shall be alwaies free, and alwaies amorous; and the impossibilitie that there is for
them ever to be my wives, gives them a charm, which will make me love them untill I return again to the Court. Judge now after this, cruell sister, whether vou are
to rob me of all my pleasures. You know, continued he, that I doe not cross yours,
that I have never prest you to hearken to the sighes of Marsé, more than vvas need




full for my diversion, and not to constrain you to marry him. I am so much a
friend of liberty, that I cannot endure the least violence, either in my self, or in another; and if you resist me never so little more, I feel that I shall doe what you
would have me; but at the very same instant I shall take Post to goe seek out some
new object for my passion, without vvhich I am not able to live. They vvere a
long time yet pleasantly disputing on either part concerning this matter; but at
last the Marquis his Sister, vvho vvould not lose so favourable an occasion to discover unto her Brother the design vvhich she had, gives him to understand, that during his absence, a Gentleman of their Neighbours, extreme rich, of great courage,
and of much spirit, had fallen in love vvith her; and that he being to return from
the Army in a short space, she was afraid lest some mischief might fall out between
him and Marsé. It is not that I have any affection for him, said this Maid  but I
must confess to you, that I vvill never mary Marsé, though I think I could resolve
to be the others Wife. Come, my dear Sister, answered the Marquis, doe not disguise your thoughts; say that you are in love; that your passion is violent, and
vvith these charming vvords you shall obtain of me all that you can desire; I vvill
return to the Court eight dayes sooner than I vvould have done, to leave you the
liberty to use Marsé as you please; but vvhen I goe I will leave our Mother an absolute power to mary you according to your ovvn mind; for I am so glad to see
that you are not insensible, that I love you for it far more than I did. As they
vvere thus talking, Marsé arrives, the Marquis hides himself against his Sisters vvill,
gets out at a back-gate, mounts on hors-back, and rides to Marsés house, vvhich
vvas not far off, vvhere he finds those four fair Sisters, or to say better, his four Mistresses, all of them more joviall than ordinary, for they had every one in particular some hope to be the Marquis his Wife, by reason of the proposition their
Brother had made to them of it. They had also attired themselves extraordinarily,
to give him new wounds; for they knew well no day past without his visiting them.
The eldest had a garment on of green cloth-of-Silver, whereof the sleeves were
tyed up with carnation-silver'd ribbon, and her hair with the same, which did
not misbecome a person fair-complexioned. The second had on a night attire of
pure white silver tinsell, which gave a kind of lustre to her serious and modest
aspect; the third alwayes glittering, was in a wastcoat of gridilyon sattin, set all over with silver oes ; as for the youngest, though her garment was plainer than
the rest, yet was it the gallantest; her habit was nothing else but silverd tiffany,
imbroidered with flowers, lined with carnation taffata, and her head was covered over with carnation and white feathers, which must needs doe well with a young
person, whose hair was black, complexion clear and lively, and eyes wonderfully
sparkling. All these Sisters were much amazed in themselves, at the care which
each of them had taken on one and the same day, in setting forth themselves as
much as possibly they could; and the Marquis was so surprised to see them all at
once with such magnificence and jollity, that he could not imagine what should be
the cause of it; for commonly they observed this order amongst themselves, that
there was one alwayes carelesly drest, to the end that each of them in their turn
might shew, both affected handsomness, and handsome carelesness. But at length
the Marquis accoasts them, divides his complements and looks, commends them all
four together, and without knowing what was in their thoughts, does things which
confirms them in their opinion. He talks to them of love openly, swears that he
is in such a passion for them, as he was never in the like before; and whereas their
minds were prepossessed, they beleeve that it is an address of Court to speak overtly
of these matters, and to leave it to her, whom one loves, to apply it to her self. She
whom he beheld beleeved, that it was as much as to say, it is for you; and those
whom he did not behold, beleeved, that out of respect he durst not encounter their
eyes, in speaking of a thing which might make them blush; in fine, they were all
very well contented and very well satisfied. The Marquis, who did not love to
make unprofitable visits, demands new favours of them; he will have a bracelet
made of the hair of all four; they laugh at it at first; they refuse him, or to say






better, they make him the more earnest to intreat them for it; and at last they grant it him, still in the thought, that it is a trick whereby he will get the hair of her eh loves, without making shew that it should be a particular favour, or that she should have cause to be offended at it. This promise was soon executed; the youngest of these maids being the most dextrous, was she that plaited this hair together, and made a bracelet of it, where the different colour of their hair appeared all asunder. In labouring at this work, she laughed in her sleeve, so think how her Sisters were beguiled, if they beleeved that it was for them the Marquis had desired that which she was making; and the rest, who thought they were more cunning, mocked at the simplicity of their younger Sister, for taking such paines about a thing wherein she had so small a share. And those severall concealed opinions which they all had, gave them so strong a disposition to laugh, as upon the least pretext for it, they fell into it; finding too amidst their laughter occasion to redouble it, each of them beleeving in their mind, that the rest would not alwayes laugh with so good a will when once the Marquis should declare himself. As for him, who never lost time, after he had spoken to them all in generall, according to the French liberty, he spake to them in particular; he singles out one into a corner of the room, and there sayes gallantries to her; a little after he talkes with another at a window, which looks upon the garden, and seeming to admire the beauty of the flowers, he praises that of her eyes; he accompanies the youngest when she goes forth, and makes use of this occasion to  cajoll her. And when they
walk in the garden, he sometimes draws one of them also from the rest, that he may
be able to speak two or three words to her in private, or to ksss her hand. In the
meantime, Marsé, who had not received such caresses at the Marquis his house,
returns to his own, where he finds him still to be; he does what he can to make
him stay all night, but the Marquis, who began to fear lest Marsé should press him
to explain himself, withstands it, parts from this fair company, carries away the
bracelet, and comes back to his Sister, who was very melancholick. For it had
happened, that her Lover being returned, had surprised her talking with Marsé;
and whether he had understood of his design, or that she had before acquainted him
with it they had saluted one another very coldly, and had talked as men that took
pleasure to contradict each other. So that, said she to the Marquis, after she had
recounted unto him that which had befallen, I see the matter in a case to break
forth, and suddenly to produce some mischief; it we doe not look to it in time.
No such thing, answered the Marquis, for whereas I have promised nothing to
Marsé, and that he too hath not spoken to me of his love to you, or of any purpose he had to marry you; I may tell him if he moves me about it, that I am engaged to another, and to make that true, cause your Lover to come to me,
aud I will promise him my consent. I know that thereby I shall banish my self
from a place, where I have a great deal of pleasure; but since I am of necessity to
be gone away within eight dayes to the Court, I could not make a better end of
this adventure. For Marsé forbidding me his house, I shall have a fair occasion
to write them a letter of adieu and despair: withall, continued he, I perceive that
I begin to accustome my self to the favours which I receive from these Gentlewomen, so that now the happiness which love gives me, being turned into an habit,
it is no longer hapiness to me. The Marquis his Sister was so astonished to hear
him talk thus, as she could not forbear laughing at it: They past the evening in
this sort, and not to lose time, the Marquis his Sister advertised her Lover, that
the next morning he should repair to her Brother to acquaint him clearly with
the intentions he had for her. The note which she sent failed not to work the
effect she expected from it; her Lover comes just as the Marquis is rising, speaks
to him of his passion for his Sister, shews that he covets his alliance, and in the
end expresses his desires so clearly, that the Marquis without further delay leads
him to his Mothers chamber, who favoured her Daughters wishes, propounds the
matter unto her, gets her to agree unto it; and whereas this Lover was absolute
Master of his Estate, and of his own will, they resolved to accomplish this Mariage





within four dayes, to the end that the Marquis, who was to return to the Court,
might be at his sisters wedding. Things being in these termes, Marsé arrives, who
was come on purpose to his Mistresses Mother, to discover his design unto her. As
soon as the Marquis saw him enter, he descends, he goes and imbraces him, invites
him to his sisters wedding, before he acquaints him to whom she is to be maryed;
seemes to believe that he is not interessed therein; talks to him of dancing and
joy; hoping thereby, that Marsé, seeing the matter resolved, would not explain
himself further, and peradventure would alter his mind. As indeed, Marsé hearing
this discourse, and knowing that his rivall was returned, makes no doubt but the
Marquis spake the truth, onely he doubted, in regard ofthe manner of the Marquis
his speech to him, whether he had observed that he affected his sister. He was mad
that he had not declared himself sooner, and that he was arrived so late; and in this
unquietness, he knew not whether he should goe in or no, to be the spectator of his
Rivals tryumph; whether he should quarrell with the Marquis, though he knew
not as yet that he was faulty; whether he should depart away without saying any
thing unto him; or whether he should trouble this wedding with some strange violence; in fine he was so confounded, as not knowing what to doe in so unpleasing
a conjunsture, he suffered himself to be conducted along by the Marquis, whose
adress in this occasion was such, as without seeming to perceive any change in his
countenance, he still continued talking to him of diversion and joy; and that too
with imbracing and putting him gently on towards his Mothers chamber; whereunto as soon as ever they were entred, the Marquis presented his brother-in-law to
Marsé, who saluted him very coldly; in the mean time he had leasure to tell his
Mother and his sister in two words, that to keep Marsé from shewing his hatred
and resentment, he was not to be left alone with anybody. After that civilities were rendred on either part, the Marquis thought it was fittting that he
should entertain the company; he began then to quarrell with his sister, for
that she was the cause of his rejoycing at a thing which was repugnant to
his mind; but withall he was well assured, that this thing should never
give him joy again, either for her, or any other, and that this compliance was no doubt the greatest mark he could render her of his love. Marsé
hearing this discourse, demanded ofhim, whether he meant mariage by that
which he spake? and the Marquis without further delay, answered him laughing,
that it was of that destroyer of love; of that Tyrant of libertie; of that enemy of pleasure;  which most commonly disjoynes all that Love hath united; which discovers all the defects ofthe mind and humor, to persons that believed they were altogether perfect; and that which was worse than ail the rest for him, which banishes love, inconstancie, and gallantry from amongst men, to introduce into the
stead of it, jealousie of honor, a false constancie, and domestick cares. So that, as you
speak (replyed Marsé interrupting him) you believe it may be that you should
much oblige one of your friends, if you should mary his Mistress to another. If he
should tell me, answered the Marquis, that he would mary her, I should not contradict his intent, for I am so much an enemie to constraint, as I never oppose any
thing; but otherwise if a worthy man of my friends should appear to me extremely
amorous, I doe not think I should doe him any great wrong, if I should deprive
him of the meanes of marying his Mistress, in case his passion should disorder him
so far, as to give him a desire to doe so: And in the humor that I am, the greatest
proof of affection that I can render unto a maid, when I become inamoured of her,
is not to marry her: yea, and I have met with some, unto whom, the more favourably to receive my affection, and to testifie unto them the respest which I bare
them, I have declared at the first sight, that in becoming their Servant, I had no design to become their Master; and in assuring them that I was their slave, I assured
them that I would never be their Tyrant. It may be, replyed Marsé, you have not
alwaies spoken so openly; that I have not, answered the Marquis, when I believed,
that those whom I loved had wit enough not to suspect that I had any such bad intent; but howsoever I have never done or said any thing which could make them




believe, that I had any other aym, than to love them, to be kindly received of them, to be heard with pleasure, and to obtain of them all those petty favours, which are no part of the Husbands demean, and which ought alwaies to remain in the disposition of Ladies, therewith to gratifie their Lovers. For since there are not men found, which amuse themselves in wearing bracelets of their wives hair; which demand favours of them; which are ravished with kissing onely the tip of their gloves; with saying gallantries to them, praising their beauties, giving them serenades; making verses to their glory; and telling them that they burn and dye for love of them. Is it not strange they should be deprived of all these pleasures? and is ti not unjust, that men which doe not love them shoudl possess them absolutely? and that they which adore them should not at leastwise have all those pretty things, which are not directly opposite to vertue? Your maximes are so bad, said the Marquis his Sister, speaking to her Brother, that if you had not alwayes been at Court, and that we had alwayes been brought up together, I
should have some cause to fear, that one might imagine you had perswaded me
to your opinion. I dare not say, replyed her Lover, that these maximes, which
you condemn, have nothing in them that clashes with reason; nor also maintain
that they have nothing in them but that which is bad; for I have too much love
for the Sister, and too much respect for the Brother; but howsoever I am confident that you will not follow them. It is true, said Marsé, tartly enough, that
inconstancie is not that wherewith he is to be reproched; and I know not whether on the contrary, Vertue opposed will not prove to be the onely crime that may
be imputed to him. The Marquis perceiving that the other was preparing himself to answer, and peradventure with bitterness, continued to speak of the injustice
of men in the discerning of things. For, said he, if the diversity of good books
renders a man knowing; if diversity of voyages serves him for an agreeable study, which illuminates his mind, and informs his judgment; if the diversity of
fair arts is a knowledge that pleases; if the diversity of tongues passes for a laudable curiosity, why should one think that the diversity of loves can produce nothing that is good? And why will one have the grace of novelty, which is
the charm of nature, to be a defect in love? For my part, said Marsé,
I will no longer oppose this doctrine, since an universall change cannot be but
advantagious for me, glorious for some, and equitable for others. The hidden
sence of this speech was easily understood by all the company; but the Marquis,
who in this occasion did not desire to dive into things, alter'd the discourse, and
said unto Marsé, that his Sisters must needs honour this Wedding with their presence, and that he must rejoyce with them, for that they are not so neer to slavery.
The honour that you will doe them, answered Marsé;, will surprise them, not
because your civilities hath not given them occasion to attend more from you,
but whereas this newes is unexpected, it is fit that I should goe and advertise
them of it, to the end they may prepare themselves to receive the grace that you
will doe them. The Marquis pressed him extremely to pass away the rest of the
day with them, but he would by no means stay; He invites him also to his Sisters
Wedding, talks to him of Bals, Lutes, Musick, and of all the entertainments usuall in such like Feasts: whereunto the other answered still with speeches of a
double sence. The two Rivals quipt one another civilly, which doubtless might
have produced some unlucky adventure, had not the merry humour of the Marquis sweetned the conversation. Marsé took his leave of the company, with a
forced countenance, which made them conceive that he had strange unquietness
in his mind. He went home then with so much grief, as he could not longer conceal it, and to minish in some sort he desired to make his Sisters partakers of it.
He sends for them, acquaints them with the mariage of his Mistress, tels them that
the Marquis is unfaithfull, inconstant, a cheater, a courtier; that cares for nothing
but to please himself; that hath made a mockery of them; and then recounts all
their conversation unto them. These four Sisters were not more amazed at this
Wedding whereunto they were invited, and the lightness of the Marquis his huè




mour, than to know by their Brothers discourse that they were Rivals, and equally beguiled of the hopes which they had conceived. At first they beheld one another, as if they would silently reproch each other for concealing themselves in their
designes: But the third of these maids, whose mind was not so sensible of grief, and
that could not be long without giving seme marks of her humour, after she had paused a little, began to speak, and said with a tone of the voice of admiration, I mnst
confess the Marquis is wonderfull dextrous, that could deceive four interessed
maides; and though I did infinitely esteem him, continued she, I did not think he
had had so much wit, nor that he was so unworthy of my friendship. The mindes
of the three others were not so moderate; and though the eldest was of a very sweet
disposition, yet could she not chuse but shew her resentment. The second, alwaies
haughty, manifested hers, by seeming to share very much in that of her brother;
but as for the youngest, she was vext to the heart, for having so ill assured her first
conquest; and albeit she had a great deal of wit, yet she could not forbear shewing
her choler. Howsoever the third continued still saying, that this adventure was a
new charm, which she discovered in the Marquis, and that ingaged her to esteem of
him the more. In the mean time the wedding day arrives; Marsé feignes himself
sick because he would not be at it; the sisters excuse themselves upon their brothers sickness: Howbeit the third makes a secret match with one of her kinswomen, that dwells not far of, to goe and see this feast in disguise; they mask themselves then very bravely, and appear in that assembly accompanied with certain
men disguised too as they were. As soon as they were entred into the rooom, the
Marquis knew her that touched his heart still; he approaches to her, makes her
an hundred complements, and continues telling her, that he loves her passionately.
But she without reproaching him, answers, that she does not doubt of it, and that
the conformity which is between them ought to work so fair an effect. That nevertheless it was fit they should a little better examine their thoughts, it seeming just
unto her, that two persons, which made profession of beguiling all the world in
gallantery, should not be beguiled between themselves. This said, this gentlewoman made the Marquis sit down by her,  whilst the rest of the company were dancing, and with a most pleasing relation acquainted him with all that had past, betwixt her brother, her sisters, and her self. Hereupon they promised much good
will one to another, esteeming too much of themselves for ever speaking together again of love. She counselled the Marqnis not to come at their house, but since he
was to be gone to the Court the day following to send a complament to her brother
and her sisters, as indeeed he did. The Marquis took post the next morning, leaving
his sister very well contented, Marsé in despair, three of his siisers in choler enough.
& the other satisfied. Ever since that, Madam, there hath alwaies been a secret hate between these two houses, until such time as Marsé made the report that caused the
cmobat, which I have recounted unto you, & that consequently hath so happily for us
brought the Marquis into Italy. I confess, said the Princess, that the history hath
much delighted me; and that I am much obliged unto you for acquainting me with
so gallant and extraordinary a man. As she was saying so, the Marquis came into
the chamber again; whereupon she began to charge him for keeping so long away
from a company, which found his infinitely agreable to them: But he with a respective boldness, answered, that knowing very well how the Count would impart some part of his humor unto her, he feared not to acknowledge, that being
in doubt he should not alwaies well remember what she was, and also what he was,
he went away to expose himself to the lookes of the fair Æmilia, to the end that
having his heart replenished vvith love, he might have nothing but veneration for
her. Isabella could not forbear laughing though she blush'd in looking on Justiniano: vvho told the Princess, that this foresight and respect of his, merited a great deal
of acknovvledgment. And I too am resolved not to be ingratefull; but I fear vvhen
as you knovv me, said she to the Marquis, that you vvill have a passion for me quite
contrary to that vvich you seem to fear. For in fine, whether it be constancy or obstinacy, I never change my determination; vvhen once I have taken a resolution,



nothing can destroy it; so as I have great cause to doubt, that this difference of humours which is seen betwixt us, will set me at ods with you: but that which gives me a little hope yet, is, that I know you have friends that are not inconstant. I confess, Madam, replyed the Marquis, that I am inconstant, and that following the order of Nature, I should hate that which is directly opposite to me; but for all that it is certain, that I am not incommodiously inconstant; I never contradict any in their opinions, nor in their pleasures; I give unto others the liberty which I desire they should grant me; I doe not blame constancie, though I like well of change; and my soul is so full of passion, as I canont condemn all that which is called Love; wheresoever I find this passion, it pleaseth me, and all the effects of it are agreeable unto me. I love jealousie in this same, despair in him, dissimulation in some, infidelity in others; and although it seldome produces any thing but joy in me, yet does not the melancholy of a Lover, who is not of my humour offend me. I am so powerfully perswaded of the excellency of Love, as I hold for infallible, that the most unfortunate Lover in the World hath more happy dayes, than the freest of all men can have. For in fine, the remembrance of what is past, or the hope of what is to come, still gives him felicities, which are not met withall in the possession of other good things. Verily, said
the Princess, there was never anyone so sociably inconstant; for commonly we are so unjust as to desire that our sense should rule that of others, to
approve of nothing but what pleaseth us, and to condemn all that contradicts
our opinions. And they which are of this humour, find in themselves wherewith
to maintain their severity. They say, that whereas there is but one reason in all
things, there is but one way to be followed; that all they which esloign themselves from that, doe goe astray, and that so they maybe justly blamed. I acknowledge, Madam, replyed the Marquis, that there is but one reason, but I maintain also, that it is so difficult to be known, as he who thinks he hath found it,
is oftentimes further from it than others, which without judging soveraignly of
any thing simply, follow the sense wherewith Nature hath inspired them. And
indeed to speak truth, if it be necessary for the equitable judging of a matter, that
one should be loose from all, and so indifferent as to lean equally to each side, or
to say better, not to lean to either; how is it possible that any man should be so hardy
as to make any judgment of the actions of others, principally of that which regards
Love? But since I have been taken at Genoua for an Astrologer, permit me to
play the cunning man in this encounter; I say then, Madam, that our reason is
not so absolutely loosed from sense, but that our temperament hath a great share
in our opinions; and that that just mixture of the four humours, which renders
the spirit so clear and solid, and our health so sound, is seldom found in any body. There is alwayes one of them that predominates over the rest, and by it we
act according to the pleasure thereof; we are grave, merry, chokrick, or patient;
insensible, or passionate. And certainly it is not so much the rigour of a melancholick mans Mistress, that makes him cry out, sigh every minute, shed tears, pass
away nights without sleep, rave from the purpose, talk alwayes of despair, and
appear with a langor, that seems to be an effect of an extreme affliction; as the
power of this predominant humour, which forces him to receive all things after
this sort. And to prove that which I say, we are but to consider, that if the same
rigour were addrest to a man of my humour, he would receive it in another fashion; the jollity and joy which proceeds from the temperament, is not easily
troubled by things without; and certainly, that which makes the melancholick
man complain in Love, would give me occasion to laugh; that which makes him
to sigh, would induce me to make verses of gallantery; that which makes him
weep, would quite cure me ofmy passion; and if I should pass nights without
sleep, it would be, doubtless, to give Serenades; I should not rave in conversing,
to weary others, and make them hate me; I should not entertain my Mistress with
my despair; nor should I fill her imagination with sad thoughts, which putting
her into a bad humour, might make her to use me ill afterwards. But contrari-




ly, I would talk to her still of all the delights of them that love one another; and
whereas Love is alwayes represented in the midst of sports, laughters, and pleasures, I would indeavour to inspire her heart with joy, that so I might the more
easily introduce love into it, to whom the painters do alwaies give a bed of flowers, without ever laying him on thornes. In fine, Madam, far from perswading
my passion unto her by the langor of my face, I would shew her so much satisfaction in my eyes, as she might very well perceive that her dominion would be pleasing to me; and that I would not be like those people newly conquered, who by their
melancholy makes one beleeve that they are alwaies meditating some revolt. There
are also two kindes of Lovers, who by the humours which predominate in them
are made to doe strange things, the anxious, and the cholerick. And though the
former are not so far eloigned from the melancholick, but that they have
some conformitie together; nor the cholerick from that sparkling humor,
and that fire which animates me; yet are they for all that differing in many things.
The anxious is satisfied with nothing; the possession of felicities, which he hath desired, molest him; he wishes for quite contrary things; he loves and hates all at a
time; he hath a secret enemy within himself, that mingles bitterness with all his
pleasures; he beleeves when his Mistress shewes him favours, that she is too prodigall of them, or that she deceives him; in conclusion he is easily displeased; nothing
can content him; and when the person whom he loves gives him the least cause of
jealousie, it is enough for him to meditate on a murther. A man like me, in such
a like occasion, would mock at his Mistress, and his Rivall; a melancholick man in
France would fight very couragiously, but as for an anxious man, Steel, Iron, and
poyson, would be the least armes that he would make use of. As for the cholerick,
he would receive the rigors of his Mistress with transports of fury, so far forth as to
offer affronts to her, to threaten her with all things; but as the cloudes, which form
the tempests, are dissolved when thunder breakes forth, so this man of choler hath
no sooner exhaled his fire by his cries, but he goes out of himself, and one onely
look of the person beloved finding yet some impression of heat in his heart, doth
therein easily kindle that again of love; Finally he is easily angred, and is as soon
appeased. There are yet of another temperament, who are so patient, as they are
almost insensible; and cold predominates so much in them, as if it arrives that love
warmes them a little, they are capable of enduring any thing: For they are so powerfully surmounted by laziness, that for fear of stiring they dare not change their
Mistress, but suffer all things without complayning. You see then, Madam, that
the diversity of the humours of the body contributes much to our apprehensions;
and that one and the same thing is seen after a quite different manner.  And if we
will give credit to the Astrologers in this behalf, they will tell you also, that Saturn by his influence makes all the melancholicks act, as I have declared; that they,
over whom Jupiter predominates, are of my humor; that Mars inflames the soules
of those, whom he governes, with the fire of choler; and that the Moon inspires
those, whom  she  commands, with a coldness, which makes them almost insensible. You will tell me it may be, Madam, that these Starres are so far distant
from us, as it is hard to comprehend how they exercise an absolute power upon
men; but if you consider that which they doe in the universall world, you will the
more easily beleeve that which they doe particularly in man: for in fine the diversitie of seasons is derived from them; and this successive change of heat and cold,
of flowers and fruites, which are seen every year, is found also in our selves. We
have our seasons as well as the year, and even as age changes our temperament,
in changing our humours, we likewise change opinions. The second age of life,
which is the first for love, seldom fayles in producing of violent passions, which
are often followed by imprudence and indiscretion. As for the third, the passions
therein are not so lively, but withall they are better governed: One conceales the
pictures which he hath of his Mistress; One no longer shewes the bracelets of hair
which she gives; One hath as much care of her conservation as of his pleasure; and
it is in this age alone, where gallantry, a little reason, and a great deal of love,



may sometimes be encountred all together. But for that which followes, and is called the age of Wisedom, Love doth in it appear so strange, so dreadfull, and so ridiculous, as I cannot find any thing more horrible than an amorous old man. For of all the apprehensions which this passion inspires him with, he hath none left him but jealousie: Liberality, Address, Gracefulness, Vivacity of Spirit, that fire which sparkles in the eyes of a Lover, Respect, Care, Cajolleries, Verses, Musick, Dancing, and an hundred other things, which are so dependent on Love, that if it be dispoiled of these ornaments, it almost ceases to be Love; all these things (I say) are no longer found save in his memory, and that too in a manner, which time and use hath rendred ridiculous. But instead of all that, he is covetous, uncomely of a languishing spirit, dis-respectfull, careless, uncapable of delivering a civility with any good grace, or of making Verses that have any life in them; for the Muses doe not use to favour old Lovers: And for the langauge of the Eyes, how should they make use of them to express their passion, when as ordinarily they are become so weak, or sunk so far into their heads with age, as they are hardly to be seen, neither can they distinctly see others. Finally, that Love which is painted so plump to use, so fair, so jolly, so amiable, 
so merry, so young, so vigorous, a torch in one hand, a bow and quiver on his shoulder, and a scarf over his eyes, should for them be painted, withered, lean, hideous, hoary, sad, and languishing, having neither bow, nor
quiver, nor making other use of an extinguisht torch but to lean on it, nor of
his scars but to wipe his eyes. So that, Madam, this diversity, which is seen to
arrive to one and the same person, according to the change of his humours, of
his temperament, and of his ages, doth demonstrate, that albeit there is but one
reason to be followed, yet we doe oftentimes form many according to our fancie. Wherefore I doe not think I am upon a bad ground, in not amusing my
self about to vain a search, as that of the true reason of all things, seeing it is
so difficult to find; nor in following, as I doe, that which pleaseth me, and all
that which seems amiable to me; neither in leaving that liberty to others, which
I give unto my self.
After the Marquis had given over speaking, and left the company very much
satisfied with his wit, Justiniano, who would not abandon reasons party, and who
desired the Princess should think it was not out of caprichiousness and fancy that
he had veneration for her, answered the Marquis in this sort. You combat reason with so much force and address, as it cannot be easily beleeved that you doe
not know her; and the same wit which you have made use of to overthrow her
dominion, manifests sufficiently unto us that you are one of her subjects; and if
at any time you quit her, it is only in this passion, from whence some, who are not
acquainted with the nobleness of Love, would banish her. But for all that it is
certain, that she finds a place every where; that she can be the Mistress of all men;
that she can subdue all the passions, and all the griefs of the mind; make those of
the body to be supported without impatience; withstand our temperament, and
the influences of the Stars; and by her infinite force makes us vanquish our
selves, by obliging us oftentimes to destroy our own pleasures.
To know this truth, we are but to consider,that the humours which predominate
in us, the constellation of the Stars, and that change which time works in our
temperament, do not change anything but our inclinations, which certainly are
caused by all these things: Howbeit that is not powerfull enough to delude reason,
who no way depending either on the melancholy humour, or on the Stars, can also judge soveraignly of all the apprehensions wherewith she inspires us. She hath
a seat more transcendent than our inclinations, which many times are found to be
very low, and corrected by reason. All Antiquity would furnish us with examples of it, and the wisest have left us marks of owing all their vertue to their reason, which having made them prefer the study of Philosophy before their inclinations, hath kept them from being the most infamous amongst men. And truly it
were to deprive us of all the advantages which we have over beasts, if our onely in-




clinations should have the conduct of our lives: And to make it appear that
we have a destiny more noble than that same, we are but to observe that the
Creatures, which move not but by instinct, have one like unto it, and generall to all their kind. All Harts seek dictamum when they are hurt; all Birds
of season seek for the Spring-time, and fly from the Winter without fayling;
which the Lyons doe not, nor so many Birds that doe not shift Country. This
instinct then is seen in all the creatures without ever failing, even as the race of the
Sun, the course of the Rivers, and all other things which doe not depend of themselves, doe alwayes follow the first order that hath been given them, and that is so ne-necessary to them, as they cannot fail. But as for man, it is not so with him; he is
absolute Master of his thoughts, and of his actions; nothing forces him, nothing
violents him, and he is so independent from all things, as he can even attempt upon
his own life, as was often seen at such time as it was lawsull to prefer death before
servitude. It cannot be said that this action, which destroyes Nature, is an effect
of a naturall inclination; there must be then a more powerfull reason than our inclinations, seeing it is certain, that of all the interiour apprehensions which Nature
gives us, there is none so strong, so predominant, nor so universall, as the desire of
life. In the mean time, since there have been men found able to vanquish it by reason, it may be consequently beleeved, that there are a great number of others, who
can force their inclinations, and judge soundly of all; and who, without considering that which pleaseth them, consider only that which ought to please them. For in
conclusion, our inclinations doe not move in us so powerfully as one may imagine
they doe; they having nothing common, as I have already said, with this instinct
of unreasonable creatures, which forceth a whole kind to doe one and the same
thing, and which is instead of reason to them; since we see, that not onely all Nations, all Provinces, but all men in particular, are so different one from another, that
many times there is more difference between an Italian and an Italian, than between
the whole Nation, and that of the Persians and Tartarians. Our inclinations, if we will
know them well, are no other than a secret motion, that carries us without violence
to please our selves more with one thing than another; some love the Woods better
than the Rivers; and others the Waters better than the Forrests, and that may be peradventure by temperament; they leave not both of them for all that to know, maugre their inclinations, the beauty of those things, and to delight in them, which
doe not touch their minds the most sensibly. But to shew that it is somewhat too
weak a thing to deceive reason, we are but to consider, that use alone forces our
inclinations. Liberty, which is so naturall to all the World, is a good that is not
desired by all the women of Italy; custome onely makes them find their houses large
enough for their walks; and the place of their devotions far enough for their voyages. Judge then after this, whether reason can suffer her self to bc vanquished
by enemies which time doth surmount. As for the passions, I confess, that they
are a little more difficult to be destroyed; but yet I maintain, that if reason will
oppose them, she will appease them, and restore tranquility to the mind that is most
troubled. If reason then will act, it is certain, that, maugre the force of temperament, the influences of the Stars, and the ages of men, we shall see the melancholick sociable; the cholerick patient; the slothfull more active; a young Lover without inconstancie, and without indiscretion. I acknowledge nevertheless, that there
is a kind of passion, or to express my self more clearly, a kind of Love, which reason cannot destroy. This impotence proceeds not, for all that, from her weakness,
but it is because she never destroyes that which she hath established; and because
this Love, whereof I speak, is rather an effect of our reason, than of our passion;
and truly, when a Lover hath, in the person whom he loves, met with the beauty
of the body, of the mind, and of the soul; when as Vertue is mingled with all these
charms; when as his vowes are not rejected; when as he feares but the inconstancie of Fortune, and not that of his Mistress, it is impossible to say otherwise than
that reason is the Mother of a passion, that doubtless cannot disorder the mind;
that hath nothing base, nothing abject; that produces none but fair thoughts; that




propounds no recompence unto it self; and that hath no other aym but to love eternally. If I were of a humour to contradict the opinions of others (answered the Marquis, laughing, and looking on Justiniano, and then on Isabella) I could shew you in few words, that at the very same instant when as you maintain, that one cannot be pre-occupated by his inclinations, you do not consult so much with your reason, as with your sense: But let it suffice for the finishing of our dispute, that I will make you see by my experience, that my inclinations shall be alwayes stronger than my reason; and not to stay longer in giving you an example of it, know, that though I am by the most perfect Princess in the World, and in the conversation of the worthiest persons of Italy, yet can I not chuse but be in some unquietness for that I doe not see the beautifull Æmilia. The whole company could not forbear laughing at the freedome of the Marquis; and the Princess demanded of him, whether he had yet taught her Kinswomanthe French liberty, by
having persuaded her to receive his visits without her permission. Madam, said
he unto her, if any one be faulty in this occasion, it can be none but I; who going
out of your chamber for the reason which I have declared unto you, I took the
boldness to make use of your name, to be received into that of Æmilia, from whence
I had not departed as yet if she had not driven me away. Justiniano seeing it grow
late, wished the Count to bid the Princess good-night, for fear of incommodating
her, by making her stay up too long; and though she made them a complement to
assure them that they could never be troublesome unto her, yet they retired, and
were conducted by the principall Officers of her House to their Lodgings. The
Marquis would not abandon the Count, nor Doria, his dear Justiniano, who nevertheless could have been well contented to have been alone for the better entertaining of his thoughts, but civility and friendship kept him from it. When as they
were abed, Doria, who could conceal nothing from his friend, acquainted him, that
Horatio, of the illustrious House of Cibo, and the Count's Brother-in-Law, was in
love with his Sister; and that he almost was so too with the Count's Sister-in-Law,
although he had seen her but twice since his return: Howbeit that he had used his
best indeavour to oppose this passion, in regard he knew very well that this Maid
had an imperious humour, which would not be easily vanquished. Justiniano answered thereunto in such a manner, as perswaded Doria that he had a mind to sleep,
but indeed it was because his mind was so taken up with his own, as he was not
capable of hearkening to other mens affairs; so that Doria fearing to incommodate
him, gave over talking, and slept more quietly than Justiniano did.
IBRAHIM: OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The second part.The second Book.THe morn-ng bringing joy and delight again to this fair
Troop, the Princess would needes have the Count and the
Marquis bestow that whole day too upon her, and to pass it
away the more agreeably she led them to Monton, a little
Town, some mile from Monaco, where the Princes of her
House had built a magnificent Paviglion, which she desired
to shew unto the Marquis. Æmilia finding her self better
that night, made one also of the company, so that the Marquis was in the best humour of the World. And whereas the
Princess observed that his respects were not displeasing to her kinswoman, she said
to the Marquis, for to oblige him to talk, that whereas love ought to be without
supercherie as well as war, he having not as yet declared himself to be Æmilia's,
she might by his observance and services be induced to beleeve that he was capable
of a solid affection, and so ingage her further than was fitting. Æmilia blushed
at this discourse, and the Marquis without giving her leave to speak, assured the
Princess, that he should not long conceal himself, and that the Count could confirm this truth unto her. Indeed, said the Count, he hath not used to keep himself
from being knowen, and if he would take the paines to recount unto you the first
adventure that befell him at Genoua, his address would appear to the beautifull Æmilia, and the relation no doubt would give your Exccllencie much content. Withall it will be better walking towards the evening, than in the midst of the day, and
you cannot pass it away better. The Princess, who was perswaded, that the Marquis his adventures could not chuse but be very pleasant, intreated him thereunto
with a great deal of civilitie; he excuses himself a while, but in the end she conjures him to it in the name of his last Mistress; It is she indeed, answered he, that is
most powerfull in my heart, and that makes me to obey. The Princess conducted
them then into a Cabinet, that was open on four sides, and whereof all the walks
were of cristall glass from the top to the bottom, that so the prospect might be the
more free. After they were set down there on seates of ebony, covered with carnation and silver tinsell, the Marquis began his History in this sort.
The History of the feigned Astrologer.BEfore I begin the relation which I am going to make, remember, Madam,
though I speak your language as if I were an Italian, that I am for all that a
French-man, that is to say, an enemy of the coldness, and reservedness of your





Nation; That it is I who have reconciled vertue and galanterie at Genoua; who
have declared my self the protector of the liberty of you Ladies; and who in conclusion have by my care and address deserved amongst them the glorious title of their
Deliverer. I tell you all these things, that you may not think it strange, if in the sequel of this discourse you understand some adventures, where the civility of this
side the mountaines is not regularly observed. I know, answered the Princess, all
that you have done for the publique libertie; the Count hath already acquainted
me, that the galanterie, which is seen now at Genoua, is an effect of yours; and that
in the end you have been so powersull in perswading the vertue of women, as there
is scarce any brother or husband that is longer jealous. I am not sorry, replyed the
Marquis, that so worthy a man hath drawen you my picture, for though I doubt
not but that he hath somewhat flattered me, yet you will not chuse but know me.
In the mean time since I must satisfie your curiosity, it is necessary that I give you
to understand, how assoon as I was arrived at Genoua, with a design to stay there so
long as my humor should find wherewithall to entertain it self, I observed, that
near to the lodging where I lay, there was a maid, who seemed beautifull enough
unto me, as indeed it must be acknowledged, that Livia hath something, that is very bewitching, in the air of her face, especially for a man that is not melancholick;
and that she hath a kind of I know not what cast with her eyes, which perswaded
me she would not be very cruell. If I were known more particularly of you than
I am, I would not tell you, Madam, that I loved Livia, since it would be enough
to make you comprehend it, that I say to you she seemed fair unto me. In fine, she
had no sooner made an impression in my heart, but I sought the meanes to touch
hers. And although it be my custom to explam my self clearly in matter of love, and
never to leave her, whom I serve, to devine of my passion, yet in regard I durst not
yet publish my precepts openly, it is true that I continued a whole week together
in using all the fantasticall tricks of a Lover of this Country. I passed twenty times
a day before her dore; I followed her in the streets; I accompanied her in her devotions; I saluted her with respect; I beheld her a far off with languishing eyes; I went
every evening to make a noyse under her windowes with a with a Gittern; and according to the fashion I imployed the very address of my horse to let her see mine, in making him curvet a hundred times before her lodging; In fine, I omitted none of those fooleries, which are introduced amongst you. But whereas I advanced my design very little by so long a way, and perceived apprehensions of curiosity in Livia, but none at all of love (at leastwise as I could judge by the manner of her beholding me) I began to accuse her of stupiditie, or ingratitude, and to think of a retreat. But coming suddenly again out of this error, I resolved not to quit her, untill I had served her some time after the fashion of France; or at least used the meanes so to doe. For, said I, am not I unjust in desiring she should love me, because I pass oftentimes thorough a street where I doe lodge as well as she? In desiring that she should be obliged unto me, because I take pleasure in looking on her for that she is fair? In desiring too that she should recompence me, because I hinder her from sleeping some nights, with a bad harmony? And lastly, would I have her judge of my wit and love, by the address of my horse? No, said I, I must write to her, I must talk with her, I must make verses for her, I must entertain her with her beauty and my love, and after I have shewed her all the gallanterie of our Nation, if she be still rebellious to my desires, let me quit her without much pain, and comfort my self easily enough after it. And the better to bring my purpose to pass, I had recourse to the address of a servant of mine that waites on me in my chamber, who certainly is incomparable for intricate businesses. After I had propounded unto him that which I desired, he assured me that within a few dayes he would furnish me at the least with meanes to write unto Livia, as indeed he failed not to doe. For it had fallen out that Livia had a maid, which served her, called Lucretia, to whom la Roche (for so is my Agent in love named) had taken a liking, and she, through a sympathy of humours, as I learned afterwards, had not beheld him with indifferencie. It was then by this way that I wrote to Livia, for after that la Roche had un-




understood my intentions he had redoubled his addresses to Lucretia, and for the 
advancing of my affaires, I had given him wherewithall to be liberall; so that he
got this wench to promise that she would shew my letters, and some verses, wherein I had painted forth my love, to her Mistress; but though I had imployed all my skill
therein, yet could I not obtain any answer. Lucretia indeed told la Roche, that Livia esteemed very much of me, that my wit pleased her, that my conversation was agreeable unto her (for I had talked with her twice at the window by the meanes
of Lucretia) but that after all I was not to pretend to her affection. I confess that
for this time her resistance provoked me more than her beauty. Behold me then resolved to know from whence the impossibility of my enterprise proceeded; I call
la Roche to my succor, and command him to repair to Lucretia, and to imploy all
his cunning to discover Liviaes true thoughts. He presses her, he intreates her, he
threatens to abandon her, and yet for all that she acquaints him with no part of
that he desires to understand. At first she tells him, that she knowes nothing; afterwards that she is obliged to be faithfull to her Mistress; then, that it is a thing past
remedy; and last of all, without any thought of telling him that which he reqnired,
she saies that Livia is ingaged in an affection to another,  whom she will not name.
This newes put me into choler, and made me resolve once more to tempt the fidelitie of Lucretia; to which effect I gave la Roche a diamond, therewith to oblige this
wench to meet him one evening, and discover unto him the whole truth of Liviaes
history. My liberalitie failed not to perswade her better than his eloquence, she
meetes him in a place far enough out of the way to be overheard of any but my self,
who understood what she said without her perceiving it; and there, after she had
suffered her self to be a little intreated, she spake in this sort unto him. I know very
well that I commit a strange infidelitie against my Mistress, but since it is to conserve you, and that you promise me you will not speak of it, I hope I shall not repent me. I will tell you then, continued she, that about three dayes agoe, whenas
my Mistress was making an end of dressing her, and that she was doing something
about her head, where she had no need of me, she observed that I looked out at the
window with a great deal of attention, and that I had also pulled up the grate. And
whereas she asked of me what it was I looked at so earnestly, I answered her boldly,
that it was at the worthiest man of all her lovers; meaning your Master, who then
passed along thorough the street. I fear me, replyed she sighing, that you and I are
not of the same opinion; howbeit, Lucretia, who is he that you do treat so advantagiously to the prejudice of others? It is, said I being become more hardy, the French
Marquis, who verily hath an ayr, and a countenance, which none of the rest have.
And for my part, I confess unto you, that I should bc more sensible for a man of his
Nation, than of ours. I cannot tell, Lucretia, answered she,  whether I should have
been as sensibly touched as thee, if he of whom thou speakest had found my heart
without ingagement, but this I can tell, my dear girl, that it is not in an estate to
receive any new impression, for the truth is, I am in love. Are you in love, said I
mightily surprized? I, said she, I am in love, and that so exceedingly, as I am resolved to tell him so much this day, who is the cause of my passion; and who after
my ill intreating of him for two yeares together, is resolved to return unto Naples,
of whence he is, and never to come to Genoua again. But I doe not purpose to be so
vertuous, as to be thereby infortunate all the rest of my life, wherefore, my dear
Lucretia, thou must this night, when as he is to come and take his leave of me,
bring him into the garden at such time as my father is asleep, where I will be ready to receive him; for I cannot endure he should goe from me. He is of a condition equall to mine, so that the greatest harm can arrive to me by it, is to mary
him whether my father will or no, who peradventure will make some dificulty of
it, becausc he is not so rich as I; howsoever, Lucretia, doe as I have bid thee, and be
assured that I will make thee happy, if thou prove faithfull to me. As I was preparing to answer, her father came into the chambsr.  In the mean time night amved,
and whereas I could doe no other but obey her, I brought in Hortensio the Neapolitan, who was received by Livia with a great deal of joy; and for a conclusion of




this interview, it fell out, that after he was come to complain of her rigour, and to take his last farewell of her, he returned more beloved than he loved. But that the World might not think it strange that he went not away after he had taken his leave of his friends, they concluded that he should make a shew of departing, but that indeed he should remain concealed in Leanders house, where at this present he is, and that in the mean time he should come every night into the garden to her by my meanes; and if it should happen at any time that she should not meet him there, then he should be advertised thereof, by not seeing a handkercher hanging at the Window, which peradventure you marked there to day, and which makes me now to leave you in hast, for that the hour wherein Hortensio ought to come, is at hand, being sorry that I have lost so much time in speaking of other folks affairs, and omitted our own; howsoever, be faithfull to me, and so be gone. I confess, Madam, that this Wenches relation moved me more than ever any thing of that nature had done; for ordinarily, in that which concernes Love, I measure the 
esteem which I make of Ladies, according to that which they
make of me ;and if I chance to encounter one who receives not my services, at
least with civility, I presently judge her unworthy of my choler, and love, and
within a quarter of an hour after I never think of her more. But in this encounter it fell not out so, for still I conserved a little affection, and a great deal of desire to be revenged. But before I would resolve on any thing, I was willing to be
yet better informed of the matter, and to understand certainly whether Hortensio lay concealed at Leanders. It was my good hap, that Valerio, whom questionless you know, and that hath a wit very proper to imbroyl an intricate
affair, proved to be a dear confident of his. And whereas we had contrasted a great friendship together at my being at Rome, I went and sought him
out, and having found him, I soon obtained of him what I desired. He
told me, that not above an hour before he parted from Leander; how it was
true that Hortenso lay concealed in his House, by reason of an amorous adventure wherewith he was very much troubled, because he was inamoured
of a neipce of Cinthioes, named Aurelia, with whom Hortensio had had a particular commerce for a good while together: How he was in good hope, Hortensio
going away, and having no further pretension there, that he might have declared his love to Aurelia, but how far from that, Hortensio, not onely remained hid
in his house, but had also obliged him to carry a letter to this Gentlewoman, to
crave her pardon for his parting away without bidding her farewell, excusing
himself upon this, that his grief for leaving her had kept him from doing so. He
told me likewise, that Aurelia had received Hortensio's letter with much testimony of affection; that Leander had been greatly tempted to discover unto her how
she was betrayed, and to make his profit of his friends deceit; but that in conclusion friendship had prevailed with him above love. That being returned to
Hortensio, he had very much prest him to let him know why he was unfaithfull
to Aurelia? how he had freely answered thereunto, that his inclination was to
Livia; how for the other, he served her out of acknowledgement, it being most
certain that he was very much obliged unto her. How after all this he had demanded of him, whether a friend of his should disoblige him in thinking of her,
since he loved her but for consideration? How Hortensio was netled with this discourse, and had testified unto him that he would not endure it.  Behold, Madam,
the estate of things; Livia loved Hortensio, and was beloved of him; I loved Livia, and was ill intreated of her; Aurelia loved Hortensio, and was betrayed
by him; Leander loved Aurelia, not daring to discover it unto her, and
was an instrument of his friends treason; Valerio was Leanders confident, and betrayed him for my sake; Lucretia for being faithfull to la Roche, was unfaithfull
to her Mistress; in fine, we all of us almost did that which we ought not to have
done. The business standing in these termes, I resolved to speak once more with
Livia; and whereas it is most certain, that when one comes to know that the person beloved accords to another favours which she refuseth to him, he changeth reè



spest into boldness, and no longer demands her affection as a grace, but as a
debt. I went and attended Livia some three or four steps from her door, with a
mind that retained little of the French civility. At her first appearing, followed
onely by Lucretia, I advanced directly unto her, and presenting her my hand with a
contemning negligence, I said unto her in somewhat a bitter manner: It may
be, fairest Livia, that being unable to merit any thing of you as a Lover, yet in
the quality of a Gentleman-Usher I may be permitted to help to lead you. I
know not, answered she, with a serious countenance, what renders you so bold as
to interrupt me in my way; but I know very well, that if you have not a purpose to displease me, and did know my humour, you would not be so inconsiderate as to dare to speak to me with so much liberty; for I make profession of a
modesty, which cannot suffer such things, and which you might very well understand by the coldness wherewith I have alwayes treated you. I confess that the
discourse netled me; I could not endure this severe vertue in a person that had
none but for me; and that reproching me with her rigour, seemed as though she
would make me serve for the triumph of her Lover. I retained her then by the
arm, as she was offering to goe away, and in a quipping and jeering manner, beholding her with a malicious smile, I said unto her; it is true, Livia, that I have
been rash and inconsiderate in daring to lift up my eyes towards a person of so extraordinary a vertue, as cannot suffer one to adore her; as cannot endure one
should speak to her of Love; as loves even darkness, and hates the light, because it
might discover that which she would conceal from most men. Indeed, answered
she, I hate the Sun, because by it I see you. It may be, said I unto her with the same
countenance, and looking justly on her, that you do not hate the Moon so much towards mid-night. Whereupon she strove mightily to get away, but in regard I
held one corner of her vail, she durst resist no further, perceiving plainly that I no
longer respected her. Nay, said I unto her, as she would have gone from me, you
must hear me whether you will or no, for since it is a sute of Love, it is but just
that you should hear me, as well as you have heard my Rivall; and that to be well
informed of the justice of our cause, you give him audience in the night, and me
in the day; for I doe not desire that in consideration of me an handkercher should
be hung in the Window; that Lucretia should descend into the garden; that a door
which seems to be shut, should be left open; nor that I should be a gallant, who
seems to be absent, and yet failes not to be at the assignation which is given him.
Verily Livia's astonishment made me almost repent for what I had spoken, but indeed I could not contain my resentment. The first thing that Livia said after this
discourse, was; Ah Lucretia, you have betrayed me! But this Wench, who in this
occasion appeared to me to be the most dextrous and daring that ever was, answered
her with an extreme precipitation; I Madam! would to Heaven you were not more
betrayed, in acknowledging that which I never revealed. In the mean time, la
Roche, who had heard all that I said, was much vexed at my engaging Lucretia by
my discourse; so that approching to me, he said softly to me in French, O Sir,
what have you done? I doe not know, said I stepping a little back, but, if thou
canst, re-accommodate this disorder. During this, Lucretia swore false oaths to
her Mistress for the clearing of her innocency; and the poor Livia was so surprised, as she could resolve of nothing; in fine, we were all four exceedingly perplexed; I was vexed for having spoken so lavishly; Lucretia was much troubled in
justifying her self; my Agent knew not what to doe, either for Lucretia, or for me;
and Livia could think of nothing that would satisfie her: She vvould fain have
railed on me, but she savv that I was too much acquainted vvith her affairs to be
incensed more; She could have been contented never to have seen me again, but she
feared lest parting avvay vvithout saying any thing unto me, I should publish that
vvhich I knew. At last, she vvould vvillingly have recalled me, for I vvas stept a little from her, and stood musing with my self, but her heart vvould not consent that she
should use any civility to me after that vvhich I had said unto her. Behold, Madam, the estate vvherein vve stood, vvhen as la Roche, the most daring fellovv that




is, approched unto Livia, and said unto her for the justification of Lucretia, with a
seeming sinceritie: I know very well, Lady, that I do put my self in danger of being
turned away by my Master, in discovering a thing unto you, which he greatly labours to conceal, but the condition wherein you are, and the innocency of Lucretia,
forces me to open it unto you. Know then, continued he, that whatsoever he hath
said unto you is not the effect of my bodies treason, but of Astrology, which he understands perfectly. It is a science wherein he is become so expert, that if I should
recount unto you the mervailes, which I have heard him tell, you would be mightily surprised with it. And whereas he is passionately in love with you, seeing you
very rigorous to him, he hath spent every night for these eight dayes in contemplating the Starres, and turning over his books, to discover the cause
thereof, and without doubt it was by this meanes that he is come to know that
which he hath said unto you: he hath shewed me, continued he, the garden, where
you were, in a great glass, though I would not understand what you said.
Truely the invention of this lad amazed me; it was in vain for me to make signes
unto him to hold his peace; the more unquietness that I shewed, the more he continued speaking; and I may say that I was never in greater pain, for I heard all that he
said. But whereas I saw that he went confounding things, and that from an Astrologer he would quickly make me pass for a Magician, in talking of an inchanted
glass, I resolved to help forward this trick, that so I might make him hold his
tongue, wherefore I called him somewhat rudely, and having commanded him to
withdraw, I came to Livia with civilitie enough, just as Lucretia was saying to
her boldly, how she had already heard it assured indeed, that I dealt with telling of
fortunes. And having saluted her for the better colouring ofthe business, I seemed
to be very angry with la Roches imprudence, in discovering to her a thing, which
I would not have known, in regard of the brutishness of the people, who imagine
that one cannot observe the Starres, without having commerce with the Devill; and
know not how to put a difference between Astrologie and inchantments. But
since the fault was done, I desired her to oblige me to her discretion, by not publishing that which had been told her. I said unto her also, that parting from the Court
of France, I had past through Provence, where hapning to be lodged near to a great
Nostradamus, so admirable in this science, as it was not known whether he should
be tearmed a Prophet, or an Astrologer, I had been so happy, as to touch his inclination, and to gain his friendship even to the point to teach me a part of the excellent things he knew, either for Astrologie, Phisiognomy, or Chiromancie. In
fine, I spake to her with so much art, as she beleeved me; and beleeved too that Lucretia was innocent, who on her side played her part so well,  as she made me ashamed. She clapt her hands together, she accused her Mistress for having accused her;
and the poor Livia was almost ready to make excuses unto her, so well was she perswaded. And the cause why a discourse of this kind did not surprise her so much as another, and was more credible with her, was, for that she had all her lifetime heard her Father talk of this science, who just as we were there came out of his house; assoon as I saw him I would have been gone, but Livia stayed me, and said to me with a great deal of spirit, I know too well what respect a man of your condition doth owe to one of my sex, to be affrayed you should be indiscreet; and since it is true, that you doe know the force of destiny, and the influences of the Starres, you may well know by them, that I cannot eschue what they have resolved. In the mean time the old man, who was not accustomed to see his daughter in such a conversation, drew near, and after he had but coldly saluted me, demanded of her what she did there? but I was strangely amazed, when as she answered him, that meeting not long before with a friend of hers, whom she loved very well, she understood by her that I was one of the greatest Astrologers in the world, and that being curious to know wether she should be maried or no, she had desired my acquaintance, which the same friend had produced her. I perceived that Livia had spoken in this manner, notwithstanding the request that I had made unto her, to the end she might know whether I had said the truth; so that I resolved to stand to it. But I found my



self much perplexed, when as this old man said to her in a grave tone that many
men had imployed all their lives in this study, and had taken upon them the name of
Astrologers, but that few had come to the point of deserving it. Then turning him to
me with a more open countenance, he said unto me, that if I were such a one as his
daughter told him, he would serve me with all his heart; that he was very much
affected to men of merit, and to the lovers of sciences, whereof the vulgar were
ignorant; and that in conclusion, if he should tell me truth, he must confess that in
times past he had given himself to judiciary Astrology; but that the trouble of domestick affaires had kept him from excelling therein; howbeit that he still knew enough to be able to discourse a little with me of it, if I would come and vissit him
at his house, whereof he shewed me the door. I leave you to judge, Madam in vvhat
a case a man might be, that knevv not so much as the names of the Signes and Planets; I made use of confidence then in the incounter, and told him that I vvould
not fail to come and take out a lesson vvith him, and assured him that he should
have a scholler of me, vvhich vvould receive his instructions vvith a great deal of
joy. Leonardo (so is this man called) took this true speech for a modest
civility; and said unto me again, that he should be glad to hear me tell him
something of his fortune; and to persvvade me that he vvas knovving he said to me
also, that he had a great desire I should goe and dispute vvith him a little in his Cabinet, that he might know whether the Planets (except Mars and Saturn) whose
influences be the happiest, are not they vvhose pararells are the greatest. Novv for me
that should have been healed of a quartan ague vvith a vvord less terrible than this,
I savv it was time to retire, vvhich I did after I had told him again that I vvould
very ssiortly come home to him and shevv him my ignorance. He vvould have obliged me to enter presently vvith him, but I excused my self dextrously from it, and
so departed, after I had saluted Livia civilly enough, and beheld Aucretia vvith a
sign, that testified unto her hovv I vvas sorry I had given her so much unquietness
in so little a time. I vvas not four stepps from them but regarding this adventure
with a more quiet eye, I found it so pleasant, that I had no other passion but to
make it last as long as I could: And this manner of revenging my self appeared so
sweet unto me, as I thanked la Roche above an hundred times for finding out this
invention, seeing it had succceded so well. Now entring into my lodging I met
with Valeria, unto whom I gave an account of all that hapned unto me, wherewith
he was so surprised and ravished, as he could not believe that which I told him, so
much did he fear that it was not true. He would not rely upon my word, but would
have the testimony of my Agent too; and though I was offended at it, yet was he
above an hower doubting whether it were a jest, or a truth, which I told him. But
in the end, perceiving I spoke seriously he believed me, and this trick so pleased his
humor, and touched his inclination so mightily, that he loved me a great deal the
more for it. It was advised than, since the father had had a part in the deceite, and that
the business might be divulged, that it was better to have me pass for an Astrologer
than for an impostor, and to sow the bruite of it about the Town, before Leonardo
should have leisure to discover that he had been gulled: But I opposed this advise a
good while, for, said I, no sooner shall I be considered as a Contemplator of the
Starres, but they will come and ask me an hundred questions, whereunto I should
not know what to answer, so that I cannot tell how to turn my self in this affair.
What you shall answer, said my Agent? You shall answer, continued he, just as others doe; sometimes I, sometimes no, be it favourably or fatally, and for the rest,
much good may it do them; for in conclusion, an Astrologer never warrants any
thing. Valerio fell a laughing at this discourse, and told me likewise for the upholding of this opinion, that this science being so difficult as it was, it might be that
chance would make me prophecy sooner, than all Astrologicall rules and speculations; That I vvas but to speak alvvaies obscurely; never to affirm any thing vvith certainty; to consider a little the quality and age of persons; to speak seldom of the
past, or the present, without good information threreof; and of the future to discourse alvvaies by Emblemes, and Enigmaes, and commonly to foretell more good





fortune than bad. In the mean time la Roche went and got me a book of Centuries for the forming of my stile, an Almanack to teach me the names of the Signs and Planets, and another Book which treated confusedly of the manner of making of Horoscopes, of the Sphere, and of Chiromancie. Behold me then well entred into the Zodiack, whilst Valeria and my Agent went assoon as we had dined to begin the publishing of the Wonders of my Science. I set my self then with a great application of the mind to the comprehending of some part of this mysterious Doctrine; but at length I judged that it would be enough in this occasion, without imploying either the mind or the judgment, to make it a labour of the memory; so that before Valerio was returned, I could already tell that the Stars have three sorts of rising and setting, called Heliack, Cosmick, Acronick; I could tell also that there are ten circles in the Sphere, six great, and four little; that the great are Equinoctiall, the Zodiack, the Meridian, the Horizon, and the two Colures; and the little ones, which cut it unequally, are the two Tropicks of Cancer and Capricorne, and the two Polarie Circles, the Artick and the Antartick. I knew the Septentrionall and Boreall Bear, the Zenith, the Hemisphere,
the Colure of the Equinoctials; the five Zones, the Torrid, the Cold, and the
Temperate; I could say too, that Saturn regarding Hecate with a trine Aspect,
and the tail of the Dragon folding it self about the Scorpion, prognosticate no
good; That Venus receiving the opposite radiations of Jupiter, and Mars and Venus of the Moon, doe presage nothing but disorders: In fine, I knew the Parallels, the Ecliptick, the Climats, the point Verticall, the Crab, the Bull, the Ram,
the Lion, and all those illustrious animals, which command over men so far off.
So that Valerio comming in, I began to make a flourish, and to tell him, that Mars
and Saturn being diametrically opposite to Diana, but without giving me leave
to make an end, he told me that he had such pleasant things to acquaint me
with, as he must needs relate them to me presently for fear of forgetting them.
And when as I had given him all the attention he could desire, it was a good
while before he could speak, he was so taken up with laughter. And truly I proved plainly in this occalion, that this is many times a contagious disease; for
though I knew not what had arrived unto him, yet could I not forbear
laughing almost as much as he, so ready I am to comply with my friends. But
at last, after he had above twenty times interrupted his relation, he recounted unto me, that the first man which he had taken in his trap, was Leander, whom he had encountred a little from thence when he went forth;
that as soon as he had perceived him, he had made as though he had not seen
him, and that passing by him with his eyes on the ground, he said somewhat loud,
I did never think that a man could have wrought such Prodigies; That thereupon Leander had stayed him, and asked him what those marvalls were which he
had seen? That he seeming to be much surprised with his over-hearing him, had
answered, I can scarce tell, so much am I still transported with astonishment and
admiration at that which I have seen; That afterwards Leander had prest him very much to tell him what it was; and whereas he would have been sorry not to
have satisfied his curiosity, he had consented thereunto, but that first he had used
all the ceremonies of a man that would deliver a great secret; that he had looked all about to see whether they might be over-heard; that he had made him
swear that he should not speak of it again to any body, unless it were to his most
speciall friends; That in fine he had omitted nothing of whatsoever might make
him hearken with attention, and render him credulous. And that after all these
preparations, he had said to Leander, would you beleeve that this French Marquis,
who is so much my friend, and with whom I am so often, could in my presence
doe the most miraculous things that ever you heard speak of, or can possibly imagine? Now I besecch you, said Leander unto him, hold me no longer in suspence;
know then, answered Valerio, since you will needs know it, that yonder man, whom
you see so joviall and so gallant, is the greatest Astrologer that ever was, or ever
will be; if so be there be no inchantment in that which I have seen, as I much sus-



pect. He declared himself to me this morning (continued he) and told me such
particulars of my life, as none but my self could know; and this he found out almost in an instant, by drawing some figures upon a paper, and looking on my
hand, for he is also both a Palmister and a Phisiognomist. Is it not the French
Marquis (said Leander, interrupting him) otherwise the Marquis of Touraine that
lodges here hard by? The very same, answered Valerio; I had never the honour,
said Leander, to talk with him above once or twice, but I perceived then by his
countenance and his discourse that he was, I will not say, an Astrologer, but at
leastwise a man that was addicted to extraordinary sciences; howbeit I did not
beleeve that it was at the point you speak of. You will then be far more surprised yet, replied Valerio, if I carry yov along with me one day, when he hath promised to let me see a woman that lives at Rome, and whom I loved at such time as
I was there. And this too is one of the least things he can doe; for if I shall tell
you the truth, I have seen and heard a picture speak, and that is it which causes
the confusion wherein you see me. Leander was so surprised, as Valerio told me that
he changed colour at it, and earnestly intreated him to bring him acquainted with
me, which he promised to doe, upon condition that he should not publish what I
had told him, for fear I might be suspected to be a Magician; and that at length,
after many other discourses on this subject, they parted very well satisfied one of
another. And for a conclusion, Valerio said unto me, this is the first fool I
met withall; then he recounted to me how he went unto the Academy, where he
had imparted to a great many the Wonders that I did; that to publish them the
better, he had told them unto them in their ear, and had prayed them not to
speak of it, or at leastwise not to name me; that going from thence he went and
made a turn about the Market-place, where he had met with a man, who recounted unto him part of the things that he had told in secret to the Academy, as
one that was verily perswaded of it; which had so astonished him, as to keep
his countenance he was fain to enter into a Tennis-court, where he had found another man, whom he knew not, that was talking very earnestly to five or six persons, which hearkened to him very attentively, and assuring them that I was the
greatest Astrologer of this Age; and that he had seen me doe an hundred things,
which he recited unto them. That whereas he could not forbear laughing, he had
set himself merrily to contradict him, but that this man without going about to
seek for reasons to convince him, had told him roundly, that he spake in that manner, because he did not know me, but that he spake upon certainty, for that I was
one of his best friends, it being not an hour since he parted from me; so that after
he had recounted all theso things unto me, saidValerio, despairing of making a
better encounter than that of this man, I came away to find you out, so satisfied with
my lye, as is it should alwayes succeed so luckily, I would make a vow never to
speak truth again. After we had laughed well at this adventure, and rightly admired the fantasticalness of the World, which loves to beleeve, or at least to publish bad newes, and prodigies, we saw my Agent return, whose voyage had had a
quite other success. He had met but with few to publish that which he desired
should be known, so that being mad for having done so little for a man of his humor
and address, be had resolved not to come back till some good adventure befell him.
He had sought then in vain for some one to deceive, when as a Maid, named Camilla, who served Aurelia, said to him in passing close by him at such time as one
could scarce see, follovv me. It is sufficient to say, that this Lad vvas brought up
in my service, to make one be assured that he follovved her foot by foot, for fear of
losing the fight of her. This Wench led him into a by-lane, vvhere fevv folks
came, for it was almost nothing but garden walls; When they were arrived
there, Camilla told him, that a person very considerable, both for her merit,
and her beauty, attended a speciall service from me; that the reputation which
I had of being the civillest of men, made her hope that I would not refuse her; and
that if I would do her this grace, I should not fail then to be at a little garden
door, which she shewed him in the same lane; and to oblige him to trust in




her words she gave him a note which her Mistress had written unto me. My Agent assured her, that I placed my greatest glory in doing service to Ladies; but whereas he prest her to tell him what it was that Aurelia desired of me (for though it was almost dark, yet knew he Camilla, whom he had often seen with her Mistress)
she said to him, that if I were such a one as I was reported to be, I could not be ignorant, as he was, and therefore that might suffice for the present. La Roche judged
rightly then, that there was somewhat of the Astrologer in this adventure, so that
to help on the matter; you have reason unknown fair one, said he unto her, to
think that Aureliaes secret will be none to my Master, for if he pleases he knowes
that which now we doe. Alas! said the wench again, how affraid am I of his acquintance, and how do I wish that he may never think of me. There is nothing to
be feared, said la Roche unto her, when as he knowes your adventures, for he is as
discreet as he is knowing. But at last after a reasonable long communication, where
Camilla still assured, that she would by no meanes serve such a Master, she told me,
that I was not to fail, if it were possible, in being at that garden door the same
night when as the Moon was down; or if I could not be there accordingly, that
then I would be there the next night at the same time; that she would be ready at
that place to give me entrance, and her Mistress in the garden, where I should speak
with her. I confess, when la Roche related this unto us that I could not chuse but take
great pleasure in it, and much desire to read the note that was written to me. If I
had as happy a memory as a Romanzes Heros, I would recite it unto you without
changing a sillable, but since I have it not, it shall suffice that I do tell you in generall, how Aurelia intreated me with a great deal of civilitie and affection, that I
would imploy that mervelous science, which I exercised so nobly, in setting her
mind at rest; that from me alone she expected succor for her unquietness, and that in
fine, if I were a Frenchman (which according to her sence was to say civill) I would
not refuse her. Valerio was so ravished with this encounter;  my Agent was so glad
of it; and at first dash I found it so pleasant, as we past away an hower very merrily.
But when I perceived that Valerio would have me try this adventure, my pleasure
diminished by the half: The more I opposed his will, the more he persisted in vanquishing mine; it was in vain for me to represent my ignorance unto him, the disorder that might arrive unto me by it, the perplexity wherein a man would find
himself to be, when he must speak of that he does not know; for to all these objections he had wherewith to answer me. He in the first place laid it down to me for a
ground, that to the end I might not be taken for an impostor by Leonardo, and to authorise the cheat which he had used to an hundred persons, in assuring them that
I was a great Astrologer, it was necessary, that I should use two or three one after
another; that otherwise I should lose the reputation which he had gained me; that
if I refused to meet Aurelia, it was impossible but she should speak of it to some body, and so I should be cryed down, and out of abilitie to be revenged of Livia by
this artifice; that I could not meet with a fairer occasion to make shew of my art
with facilitie, in regard it required but the beguiling of a maide, who doubtless
was well persvvaded already of my science, since she had been so hardy as to intreat
me to come and speak vvith her; that in fine, seeing Aurelia had been so vveak as
to beleeve things just as one vvould desire she should beleeve them, it vvould questionless be very easie for me to satisfie her; And for a conclusion, said he unto me, she is
young, she is fair, she vvill meet you in a garden, and in the night, judge novv after all this, vvhether you are not to go thither. It is certain that this last reason moved me very much; and I felt then such a repugnancie in refusing a fair maid, as I
made no longer question vvhat I should doe; vvherefore I prepared my self for it,
and for the more security, Valerio and my Agent armed themselves to attend me at
this garden door. As for my self I carried nothing but my sword vvith me ,  for I
could not fear that the universall adorer of vvomen, should be betrayed by a vvoman. But before I tell you vvhat arrived to me in this garden, I must recount unto
you, Madam, that vvhich vvas the cause of this adventure; for vve vvere made acquainted vvith it aftervvards; You remember, no doubt, hovv I told you, that Leanèder vvas the first vvhom Valerio had persvvaded that I vvas an Astrologer, and somevvhat more; and that Leander vvas the same in vvhose house Hortensio lay concealed.
I remember all this, said the Princess, interrupting him , and to testifie it unto you,
I remember that Leander loved Aurelia, and durst not tell her so much, because Hortensio had some commerce vvith her, although it vvas Livia that possessed his heart,
and that Leander play'd but an outvvard part in being constrained to serve the imposture of his friend, and to carry Hortensioes letters to Aurelia as if he had been absent, though indeed he lay concealed in his house for to goe every night untoLivia
in a garden. Since it is so, said the Marquis, I am then but to tell you, Madam, that
after Leander had been powerfully perswaded of the wonders which Valerio had told
him I could doe, he changed the resolution he had taken to stay till Hortensio had
broken off with Aurelia, into that of disabusing her by a pretty subtill way, if she had
had a true ground for it, and that I had been such a one as he beleeved me to be. And
behold how he reasoned with himself; I am going, said he, to Aurelia for a letter
which she is to give me to day for Hortensio, whom she beleeves to be at Naples, or
on the way thither, she hath already shewed a great deal of grief for his absence;
now if I can bring her to speak of that again, I will tell her that Valerio hath told
me of the French Marquis; so that if she shall happen to be curious to see her absent
Lover by the science of this man, she shall likewiie see that he is not at Naples; that
he is still at Genoua; that he loves another, and by these meanes I shall destroy her
affection to him, and it may be make my profit of this diforder. This resolution taken, he goes to Aurelia, who after she had given him her letter, fayled not to speak
of the absence of her Friend, to ask of him whether he thought it would not be
long ere he would return? Whither he had not taken this separation heavily? and
whither he had not already a longing to see him again, though it were but lately
since he went away? Yea so great a one, answered Leander, who would by no
meanes lose so fair an occasion, as I am almost resolved to try the science ofa great
and excellent man, that is not far off. Aurelia straitway would needes know of
him what he meant by that which he said, whereupon he recounted unto her all
that Valerio had told him, and a great deal more; that I made the dead to speak, and
those that were absent to return again, but in such a manner, that one saw the persons, whom one desired to see, as is they had been effectually in the place where
they seemed to be; and that this was done without inchantment, and by naturall
causes, but hidden from most part of the world; that one must be very skilfull in the
knowledge of ideas and simpathies for the comprehending of any part of these
mervelous effects; but in fine, how he was certain, that what he said was true. Aurelia hearkned to this discourse with much attension; at first, she seemed to doubt of
that which Leander told her, but it was doubtless to make her self the more assured of it. For after he had confirmed the matter unto her, as she desired it; and that
he had told her my name, she demanded dexterously of him where I lay, and by
what way one durst propound such things unto me, seeing I was a man of quality,
and that made no publick profession thereof. He answered her, how it was to be
done by request, and that if she desired any thing of me, he had a friend that was very intimate with me. She thanked him, and so civilly gave him to understand that
she would be well contented vvith his departure. He vvas no sooner gone, but she
called Camilla, vvho vvas the confident of her secrets (for she recounted all this to
me aftervvards) and reported faithfully unto her all that Leander had told her. And
for a conclusion, she shevved her that she vvas absolutely resolved to speak vvith me,
and to intreat me to let her see her dear Hortensio, of vvhom she had not taken her
leave. They reasoned a vvhile upon this subject, but at last love prevailed vvith her
above good manners. Camilla told her Mistress, that she knevv a man by sight vvhich
served me; so that vvithout further delay she chose rather to vvrite to me, as I have
declared unto you, and to make use of this vvench, than to accept of the offer vvhich
Leander had made her. In the mean time, the hovver of assignation being come, I
vvent to the garden door; Valerio and my Agent stayed three or four paces of, till I
entred, vvhich vvas not long first, for soarcely had I touched the door, vvhen as Ca-milla came and opened it, with a light in her hand, and told me that her Mistress
attend me in a Cabinet, which was at one corner of the Garden, whether she presently led me. It is very true, that when first I saw Aurelia she seemed so fair unto me, though she were half covered with her vail, as little lacked but that I had
spoken to her rather of the beauty of her eyes, than of the influences of the Stars.
But she gave me no leasure to deliberate on my complement; for she spake first, and
desired me to pardon her the boldness she had taken in putting me to the trouble to
come to see her; she prayed me to consider, that since she had failed in the respect which she owed to her self, she might well fail in the civility which was due
to me. I answered to this discourse with a great deal of submission; afterwards
she spake to me of the reputation which I had for Astrology, of the things that she
had been told of me, and how much she had desired to see me. I received these
praises with a carelesness, respectfull enough for all that, which doubtless made her
beleeve that I thought I well deserved it. And still to gain time I lengthened this
discourse as much as possibly I could; but she, that came not thither to make complements, said with a low voyce, as though she had been afraid to be over-heard,
though there was no body there but Camilla, that kept Sentinell at the Cabinet-dore; the Wonders which have been recounted to me of your Science, perswades
me that it would be easie for you, if you will, to spare me the labour to tell
you that which I desire of you, since without qnestion you know it already.
It is certain that this discourse surprised me after a strange sort; aud I beleeved,
in the confusion wherein I was, that I should find nothing to answer her with; but
at length, after a great contest with my self, it is for the same reason, said I, that
your modesty ought not to keep you from speaking; for seeing it is a secret which
I am not ignorant of, what you shall say of it ought not to add any thing to your
confusion. It is true, said she, but I should be gladder to hear it from you, than
to have it delivered by me; be not therefore so rigorous, and if it be possible, doe
that which I desire without my telling it you. This obstinacy made me almost
mad, and I vow to you, that the modesty of the severest Missress that ever I had,
troubled me not so much, as that of this Maid. And seeing this confusion still
augmenting, I said unto her with the tone of a more serious voice; Fair Aurelia, I should be willing enough not to oblige you to the doing of a thing that
seems unprofitable to you, if I had not a secret reason which constraines me thereunto; and since I must let you understand it, know, that by the force of my art,
I can tell not onely that which you desire of me, but whatsoever hath arrived unto
you, that which you think at this present,and that which shal befall you hereafter; but
if by a plain and faithfull relation, you doe not shew the consent you bring to
that which you would have me doe for you, it will be impossible for me to serve
you; and beware, said I unto her, lifting up my voice, lest that which you call modesty, be not an effect of the doubt you have of my Science, in desiring by this
essay to assure your self of it. There must be confidence in this mystery, continued I, for I doe not work onely by the ordinary wayes of Astrology, but I think I
have gotten some extraordinary knowledges which go beyond them: And to testify
it unto you, I will presently tell you, if you desire it, all the most secret thoughts
of your heart, but after that look for nothing more from me. She stayed me then
with a great deal of precipitation, and said to me almost trembling, seeing it is a
tribute which I must render unto you, I am resolved for it; then she recounted
unto me that which I knew already without inchantment, I mean, that she loved
Hortensio; but she told me afterwards that which I knew not, namely, that she
would have me shew her that Lover, whom she beleeved to be at Naples, but was
still at Genoua. This proposition put me into a strange disorder; I told her at
first, that the matter was not easie; that it behoved her to have a great deal of courage to undertake it; that the apparition of Spirits, which were not at that time
in any other but a fantasticall body, did alwayes bring fear along with it; and
that she should think well of that which she desired, before she undertook it. She
answered me then, that nothing which resembled Hortensio could scare her.  When




as I saw her obstinacy, and that I was reduced to that point, as I knew what to say
the necessity wherein I was, rendred me ingenious, and I imagined a trick  which
hath shewed by the event, that it was well conceived. I told her then with a more
open countenance that her confidence pleased me; and that I was ravished to see
a person of her Sex have a Spirit hardy enough for an enterprise which made the
boldest to tremble. But to make it succeed, she was to write a note, according
the tearms which I would dictate unto her, and let me carry it away to make my
figures upon it, assuring her that I would tear it as soon as the mystery was finished; and that this amongst the Learned was called, the making of a covenant with
the Ideas. She made a little difficulty at it, but having told her how I could doe
nothing without that, she consonted thereunto; and by good hap there was a pen and
ink in the Cabinet, and a Table-book, wherein we found a white leaf. She began
then to write what I dictated unto her, which if I be not deceived was much after this manner.
ALthough you goe in the night like an Angel of darkness, yet pass you with me
for an Angel of light; wherefore I conjure you, O blessed Spirit, by Heaven,
by Love, and by the Sympathies, to appear unto me before my window the night ensuning, as soon as the Moon shall be down, in the true form of Hortensio. And doe
not doubt that so agreeable a vision shall fright me, for I assure you that it shall give
me more pleasure than fear.Aurelia.Whereas her mind was already pre-occupated with the opinion of my skill,
these equivocating words, of an Angel of Light, of Darkness, of Conjuration, of
blessed Spirit, of Heaven, of Apparition, of Vision, and of Fear, failed not to confirm her in this belief. And then too I pronounced all those great words with so
imperious a tone, as I perceived her to be terrified therewith. After this, I would
needs see her hand also, and would have her fix her looks upon me; I demanded
of her the hour and day of her birth, and made many other observations, which
would be too long to recite. But at last, all these devices being over, I quitted
Aurelia, after I had promised her that within three nights she should see her dear
Hortensio, and so Camilla came to conduct me forth.  In traversing the Garden I
observed that Camilla hid her face with a great deal of care, for fear lest I should
read the secret of her heart in her eyes; and when aa I perceived it, I said to her,
laughing for the making up of the Comedy, in vain, Camilla (for so had I heard
Aurelia call her) doe you seek to hide your eyes from me, when as I plainly see your
heart. Now I besecch you Sir, said this Wench unto me, mightily surprised, and
that was naturally merry and joviall, if you know my secret, doe not tell it unto
my Mistress, for then will the poor Nastagio be turned out of doors. I had such a
mind to laugh at this simplicity of Camilla, as I got me out in hast, for fear I should
burst out into laughter, or be stifled in the place; howbeit I told her in going forth
that I would be discreet. I found Valerio in so great an impatience to know what
I had done, as I could not make him resolve to stay till we came to our Lodging
to recount it unto him, for we had not made three steps but we stood still, so that
little lacked but we had past all the night in the streets; bur at length we came thither, where I recited all this unto him. Bur the pleasure of it was, that I had been
so accustomed so speak to Aurelia in a grave tone, as I delivered every thing unto him just as I had said it. And to make up the matter, there were some instances, where I was not very certain whether I were not indeed the same which I gave
out my self to be. When as I shewed him Aurelia's Letter, he demanded of me
what design I had in making her to write it? What design, said I, even to have
it to fall into the hands of Hortensio, who beleeving that Aurelia knows he lies concealed at Leanders house, in regard she writes unto him, will not fail to be at the
place which she hath assigned him by her letter, to see if he can justifie himself; and
so will she learn that he is effectively at Genoua, all will break forth, Liviaes con-





cealed pleasure will be destroyed, and I shall be revenged. And if it happens that she takes him for a phantasm, the reputation which you have given me will increase the more. Valerio acknowledged that this trick was well invented; and la Rochemas mad because he had not imagined, or at least conjectured it, upon the sight of Aureliaes letter; but to comfort him for that he had contributed nothing to the adventure which I had incountred, I left him the care to cause the letter, which was directed unto Hortensio, to fall into his own hands. Whereupon he told me without further delay, that he would go and carry it to him instantly. And when as I demanded of him how he could pretend to obey me so readily? He told me how he had learned of Lucretia, that Hortensio was this night to go and see Livia; so that, said he unto us, it being yet not very late, it may well be that he is not already come forth: I know the garden door, and whereas he knows not me, I will go thither and wait for him, and deliver the letter unto his own hands, as from Aurelia whom I will name in accosting him. This advice seeming to be the best we could take, we thought of nothing else but of executing it; and for fear left some mischance, which we could not foresee, might happen to my Agent, we followed him
a far off in this expedition, which succeeded as happily, as the undertaker of it had
foretold. For Hortensio retyring very late from Livia, we had had the leasure to attend
for him almost an hour before he came forth. If the passion wherein I had been in for
this maid, had been as strong still as it was the day before, I had past that time with
a great deal of unquietness; and I should without doubt have rather given some
marks of my resentment to my Rivall, than have caused a letter to be delivered
unto him; but I never needed four and twenty howers to cure me of such a disease. I felt then nothing more for Livia, but an extreme desire to trouble her pleasure; so that to arrive thereunto, I had as much patience, as was requisite for me to
have in this incounter. We set our selves, Valerio and I, some dosen paces from the
door, out of which Hortensio was to come, under the jetting-out portall of an house,
that was built after the antique manner. As for la Roche he approched nearer, yet
not so far from us, but that we might hear all that he should say unto him. And
whereas it was extreme dark, and that his way tyed him to pass by the place where
we were, we conceived that we should hear, without being perceived, how he
would receive this message. As indeed, he was no sooner come forth but I heard my
Agent say unto him, that Aurelia having understood he was in Genoua, had sent
him with a letter unto him, which he delivered him; and that she earnessly desired
him not to fail the assignation she had therein given him, for that she would receive
no answer but from his own mouth; in regard whereof, continued la Roche, I may
not stay to hear any thing you would say to me, for so am I enjoyned by Aurelia.
Hortensio would have laid hold on him, but my Agent was not accustomed to let
himself be taken, when he had no mind to it; Hortensio then was constrayned to be
contented with that which had been said to him. We heard him stamp with his foot
on the ground, chap his hands together, and say with a kind of voyce, which shewed
both astonishment and grief; what devill hath discovered to Aurelia that I was
here? It must without doubt be an effect of the secret passion of Leander, who hath
hoped by ruining me with her to establish himself in my stead. Some three steps from
thence he stood still, and whereas we saw that this adventure made him talk like a
man besides himself, we resolved to follow him. This design was no sooner taken,
but he began to go on and talk all at an instaut. What said he, hath my friend betrayed me? however I must see Aurelia, to the end I may keep Leander from reaping the fruit of his cunning, and that this incensed maid may not revenge her
self upon Livia. She loves me, and I do not doubt but I shall pacifie her easily
enough. But it may be, said he again, that it is not Aureliaes letter; let us stay, till
we can be cleared of it, before we resolve on any thing. Verily, this manner of discoursing by himself seemed pleasant enough, howbeit that which I found to be yet
better was, that we perceived (for we followed him very close) how though the
night was exceeding dark, and that we were in a very narrovv street, vvhere it vvas
so obscure, as nothing could be discerned, yet had he broken up the seal of this let-





ter, opened it, and made as though he vvould have read it, at leastvvise the noise
vvhich the paper made caused us to conjecture so. But the ill luck vvas, that in handling it in this sort he let it fall, and doubtless vvith the violence of his action he
flung it a good vvay from him, vvithout purposing so to do, for he sought for it a
pretty vvhile after. We understood this accident, both by the discourse vvhich he
held, and because he stood still. We got us up, Valerio and I, against the vvall; but I
confess to you, that this adventure vvas not pleasing to me: I vvas so affraid that
Hortensio vvould not seek as he should do for the letter, and so my design should
fail, that I may say I vvas never in more unquietncss. Me thought he vvent too far
from it to find it; that he had forgot the place where he had let it fall; that peradventure it vvas near to me, though I did not perceive it; in fine, I vvas even vviling to seek for it vvith him; and my imagination so troubled me, as I believed I
savv it in tvventy places, where certainly it vvas not. And vvhen my mind vvas
deceived in this manner, I vvas in a pain that cannot be exprest; For vvhen as I
thought that I savv it in a place, I understood by Hortensioes going that he vvent
from it, vvhich so madded me, as I had like to have lost all patience. But at length
after he had sought up and down a great while for it, and that he had said an hundred things, which would have pleased a man that had no interest in the affair, I
heard him upon a suddain say with much joy, at last I have got you again, and
have not lost my labour: Whereupon he went presently away, and I retaining Valelerio, who would have continued following him, told him, that if the like should
befall me again, I should go wild; that this adventure was both too pleasing, and
too offensive, for me to be once more exposed unto it; and that withall we had nothing else to do with him. We got us away then to our lodging, where we found my
Agent, howbeit we went not to bed before we had laughed sufficiently at the accident of the letter, and at all that which Hortensio had said in seeking for it. In the
mean time he was come to Leanders house, where after he had read the letter, which
he knew to be written with her own hand, he was confirmed, as we understood after, in the design of seeing her. He beleeved, that all those words, of blessed Spirit,
Angell of light, and darkness, which Aurelia had taken for markes of inchantment,
were termes of galantry, that could not part from a spirit that was mnch incensed.
He firmly resolved then to see her the night ensuing; and thereby to conserve her
to himself, preserve the reputation of Livia, and destroy the designes of his friend,
whom he was perswaded had betrayed him; for he could not conceive how Aurelia could come to know any thing of him other waies. But at length day came,
which I past away with an impatience that holds me still; for though I had the same
very day two very pleasant conversations with two men, whereof the one mockt at
Astrology, to oblige me thereby to speak of it, and the other said that it was the
excellentest of all Sciences, to carry me to the same thing, yet will I not speak thereof; for even as I am now talking, I am in hast to tell you, that assoon as the time of
Hortensioes assignation approched, I went and put my self in ambuscado,  with a resolution to see the end of my inchantment. Now it hapned, that the weather being
extreme hot, Aurelia lay in a low room, whose grated windowes were upon the
street, and where Hortensio had often talked with her. But, Madam, to give you the
full pleasure of this adventure, I am to tell you, not onely that which I saw, and
that which I heard, but that which past between Aureliaand Camilla, who recounted it afterwards unto us. Assoon as Aurelia had supped, she made as though she were
not well, that so she might be alone with Camilla, and when she was come to her
Chamber, this wench asked of her, whether she did indeed believe she should see
Hortensio that night? For, said she, how can a man that is so far distant from hence
come hither to you in so short a time? The Mistress, who thought her self a great
deal more able, laughed to hear her say so; and took a great care to make her comprehend, that this Science was above her understanding; and told her moreover,
how it would not be effectively Hortensio which she should see, but something that
should resemble him so perfectly, there would be no difference. Howbeit, said Camilla unto her, vvhat do you hope by seeing him so? vvhat entertainment? vvhat







satisfaction do you expect from it? Onely to see him, said Aurelia, and if thou be
wise, said she, demand not why Love doth cause any thing to be done, for he himself is the reason for that which he forces us to do; And then my curiosity is not
particular to me, for I have heard of many women that use to do so. But, replyed
Camilla, will you not be affraid? Never a whit, answered Aurelia. Just as she was
saying so, Hortensio, who I had seen pass by the place where I was hid, and whom
I had followed pretty close, knocked softly, according to his custom, at the windovv.
Which Aurelia hearing began to change colour. It may be you believe, said Camilla unto her, that it is Hortensio which makes this noise, or to say better his phantasme? I do not beleeve it, ansvvered Aurelia, hovvsoever open the vvindovv, and
pull up the grate. This vvench had no sooner obeyed, but perceiving Hortensio, they
both of them gave a great shrick; Camilla finding her self as very a covvard, as she
believed she vvas; and Aurelia being nothing so confident, as she had thought she had
been. Hortensio expounded this astonishment after another manner, and believed
that the choler she vvas in against him, put her into that case vvherein he savv her,
namely vvith a countenance extremely changed, and her spirit so confounded, as
she could neither sit still, run away, nor behold him. And whereas he vvas come
thither onely to appease her, he said unto her that at last this Angell ofdarkness
was come by her conjurations to see an Angell of light. O me, said Aurelia, it is
the voice of Hortensio! but I am not able to ansvver him; nor is it to speak to him
that I have vvished to see him. In saying so, her exceeding fea rso reanimated her
forces, as she vvas able to get avvay into a Cabinet, vvhereof the door vvas open.
As for Camilla, she vvould fain have follovved after her Mistress, but her astonishment kept her from it. Not being able then to do more, or to say better, not knovving vvhat she did, she hid herself under the table. Hortensio was so amazed at that
vvhich he savv, as Aurelia could hardly be more. In the mean time, that he might
get her to come back again, and knovving, that she could hear him well enough
trom the Cabinet where she vvas, he said unto her vvith a languishing voice to
move her the more; Am I come so far then, Aurelia, onely to see you, and will not
you vouchsafe to look on me? Alas! Cryed Camilla to her Mistress, that which we
think is but too sure, for he saies he is come onely to see you. Aurelia, that was
ready to dy in hearing Hortensio speak, whom she believed to be a phantasme, cryed
to him out of the Cabinet to be gone; and that she made a vow how she would never
see Hortensio more; unless it were Hortensio indeed. He who believed that she meant
he was no longer Hortensio, by reason of his change, called to Camilla, with an intent to desire her that she would get Aurelia to come forth to him again; but scarcely had he named her, when as this wench, who had marked on which side the door
of the Cabinet was, moved herself with such violence to get from under the table,
for to escape away, as she overthrew it, together with the light that stood upon it,
which in turning down was extinguished; The noise which the table made, the
cries of Camilla, the voice of Hortensio, and the darkness, so frighted Aurelia (for
she believed that all this disorder was caused by the phantasme) as she fell into a
swoon: So that although Hortensio continued saying many things, yet heard she nothing of it, no more than Camilla, who was fallen to her prayers. Hortensio seeing no
body answer him, and having heard some noise which I made with going to step
back a little, that I might have the liberty to laugh, he retired away in such a choler,
and fury, as gave so great a blow with the pummell of his sword against the grate
of Aureliaes window, that he all so batterd it; which Camilla forgot not to tell her
Mistress, as believing it to be the last effect ofthe devill, when as she was come out
of her swoon, which lasted till day break. As for me, I never troubled my self with
tollowmg Hortensio, who without doubt talked sufficiently of this adventure as he
returned, but coming to Valerio and my Agent, who stayed for me some twenty
paces off, we went to my lodging, that we might have liberty to laugh at our good
fortune in this foolish matter. We were no sooner a bed, but a new entertainment
kept us from sleeping. I know very well, Madam, that the recounting of it to you
would be in some sort to pass the bounds of respect; but the matter is so pleasant,




as it were better I should want good manners, then deprive you of the pleasure of
hearing it. I will tell you then, Madam, since your silence seemes to permits me so to
doe, that Valerio had a servant, called Vespa, whose inclinations were proportionable to his condition, being of somewhat a dull spirit; he never came a nights into
the chamber where vve vvere, but to help to make his Master unready, and then
went presently to lye with la Roche in a room which was separated from ours onely with thin bords and tapestry hangings, so that speaking never so little lowd one
might hear from the one place what was said in the other. When la Roche and Vespa were a bed, this last demanded of the other, whether it were true that I knew all
that was done in the world, as he had been lately told? La Roche, who meant to make
himself merry with him, assured him that it was so far true, as that I perfectly
knew what any body did, if I did but know the name of the person. Alas, said Vespa then, I would not be bound to serve with such a Master! For how should one
spend his life with a man, to whom one durst never tell a lye? It is somevvhat an
hard case, said my Agent, speaking a little lovvd, to the end we might hear him;
hovvsoever it must be so. I had as leefe dy, said the other, as have my Master know
all the lies that I tell him, when as I return from some place, where I have stayed
longer than I should: for, as you knovv, we want not excuses for the stealing of an
hower to bestow in our pleasures; Mounsieur was not at home; I waited for him a
long time; he stayed me with a purpose to have written to you; I sought for him
in divers places; your clothes were not done; I was to see as I went along whither
your Gittern vvere strung or no; and so, according to the diversity of occasions,
diversity of pretexts are alvvaies found: But as for you, I do not see hovv you can
live; you durst not, I assure my self, entertain tvvo three of your companions
vvhilst he is at the Comedy, and pass avvay an afternoon in making good chear. I
durst not indeed, ansvvered my Agent, unless it vvere at such a time, as I knovv he
had great affairs in hand, and so had no leisure to think of me. Neither could you
have the pleasure, said Vespa, to recount his secrets; to say he is in love vvith such
a one; he goes often to such a place; he vvrites to such a person; and that which is the vvorst, if he hath ill intreated you; vvhether it be in revyling you; or in threatning you vvith the bastinado; or if occasion serves, in giving you a vvhirret on the
ear; you durst not complain to your friends of it: Whereas to me, it vvould be the
depriving me of a great consolation, if I could not say to one; he is more fantasticall than a Mule; more extravagant than a Hobgoblin; and to give him to all the
devills in hell when he is untovvard. For vvhen I have said all this, I return home,
as if I vvere vvell revenged, and had said so much to him himself. As for me, said
la Roche, mine is none of the vvorst, and I am seldom in the case you speak of. I
vvish it may be so, replyed the other, hovv ever you muss needs confess, that he
vvould very much incommodate me in one thing; for hovv could one serve him
vvell, or be vvell clothed, if a man should not make some profit to himself of the
money that passes through his hands; I should be very sorry to steal ought from
any body, but in that case I must be excused. It is not to hord it up, that I take any
thing, but to do him credit vvith it; and then the recompences vvhich Masters
make us is not so great, but that vve may vvith some justice recompence our selves.
For that, said la Roche, you have reason; and there I lose a fair oportunity, vvhich
you enjoy. You are so unhappy too, continued Vespa, that as I perceive you dare
not think of quitting him, and of looking out for a Master secretly, as vve commonly do, vvhen vve find not our selves vvell vvith him vvhom we serve: and to conclude, I should chuse rather to be in the gallyes, than in the service of this man: I
should not have spoken thus freely to you, added he smiling, for fear he should have
knovvn it, if you had not told me, that he is to knovv the name of them vvhose secrets he desire to knovv; for as for that vvhich I am called by, he will be cousened
in it, because I took it upon me but when I came to Genoua, by reason of a small adventure vvhich befell me a Sauonna, of vvhence I am. You would have reason for
that you say, replyed my Agent, vvho was vvilling to put him in fear, if he did
not know mine; but is to morrovv he should have a desire to know what I have



done, he vvould also knovv vvhat you have sayd unto me; for otherwise his science vvould be very confused. Then am I undone, sayd Vespa, but hovvsoever, if he
must knovv all that I have sayd unto you, let him knovv also that I never took much
from my Master at a time, to the end that he may be contented vvith making me to
he turned avvay. We burst out then, Valerio and I, into such a laughter, as he could
no longer doubt but that vve had heard him vvithout inchantment. And vvhereas there vvas a back-door that opened out of their room upon the staires, he
rose in hast, and got him away, so that vve never heard of him after. The
rest of the night vvas spent in sleeping, but the next day I had employment
enough; for I vvas scarcely out of bed, vvhen as I received a Note from
Aurelia, whereby she prayed me that she might speak but one word with me at the
Garden door, where I had formerly been, out of which she would come forth, and
seem as though she had met me by chance. I made some difficulty of going to her,
but at length Valerio constrained me thereunto. As soon as I came at her, being still
pale, and amazed with her last nights adventure, she said unto me, that having been advertised since morning, how Hortensio was effectively at Genoua, and had never been
absent from thence, she found that she had great cause to complain of me, for that
I had not undeceived her. Hereupon I was very much perplexed how to answer here; but at last I told her with civility enough, how it was true that I knew of it, but having promised her no more than to let her see Hortensio, I never thought of any thing else: That if instead of this phantosm she had seen the true Hortensio, it was an undoubted mark of the power of my art, which had constrained him to come unto her, though he desired to be concealed. I acknowledge, said she unto me, that this reason is so forcible, as I cannot destroy it; but since it is true, that nothing
can resist you, do me the favour that Hortensio, who as I have been told, lyes secretly
at Leanders house, that he may go a nights to see a mayd whom he loves, may no
longer love her; or if it be possible, that he may despise and hate her. This proposition began to put me into such choller against Astrology, that little lacked but that
I had left Aurelia without an answer; howbeit my wit served me yet this once again
dextrously enough: For I assured her she was ill informed of the matter, and that
Hortensio did not lye concealed for any new love, but that being grown jealous of
her, he had feigned a voyage to Naples, the more exactly to observe her actions; and
that without doubt she was beloved of Hortensio, as much as ever she had been. This
poor Gentlewoman was so satisfied with that which I told her, as she verily beleeved it; and so I left herewith a great deal of joy. As I was returning home I was
mightily surprised, to see how the people began to note me, and point at me; some
saying, that I was a learned man; others, that I was half a Prophet; these same,
that I was an Inchanter; those, that I was a Sorcerer. There were some too, that
not far from the truth, took me for an impostor, and scoffed at me; at leastwise I
interpreted their looks and their actions so. I went then in a rage to find out Valerio, whom I met withall some three or four steps from my lodging. I did not recount unto him what had hapned to me, but I quarrelled with him for that he was
the cause of all the confusion I was in. He, that was ready to burst with laughter,
asked me whether I had not given him order to publish my science? Yes, sayd I unto him, but not to make me pass for a Magician. You know, sayd he unto me, still
laughing, that Fame augments every thing; and then what is it you complain of?
all the world is satisfied with your skill, and that which should more content you,
you are revenged both of your Rivall and of your Mistress, by giving them so much
unquietness as you do. He had no sooner sayd so, but Leander appeared, and seemed
to come to us; I would have declined his encounter by entring into my lodging,
but Valerio told me that he had promised him my acquaintance,and that he was too
near then for me to avoyd it. Indeed he was so near as I could not answer Valerio so
that I was constrained to receive the civilities of Leander, who after a great and long
complement, recounted unto me all his love to Aurelia, who loved Hortensio, that
loved not her, because he was ingaged elswhere; and therefore he conjured me, as well for his interest, as for that of Aurelia, so to do, that she might no longet affect


Hortensio, but accept of his service. I was so confounded with all these adventures,
as I scarce knew which way to turn me; howbeit seeming to consider of all that he
had told me, at length I assured him, that if he continued loving and serving her,
he should be beloved of her, provided he acquainted her with his passion. He went
away very well satisfied, and Valerio demanded of me, how I hoped to keep my
word? I answered him, that at last Aurelia would be weary of Hortensioes despising her; that Leander by continuing to serve her would touch her heart, and so would think
that he obtained that by the power of my art, which was due to his own industry.
But, sayd I unto him, now that we have a little rest. let us so into our lodging;
howbeit we were scarcely in the middle ofthe Hall, when turning my head about, I
perceived Leonardo the father of Livia, comming to me with an open countenance,
which made me conceive that he had something to demand of me. I received him
with a forced civility, which might have made him know, if he had heeded it, that the
sight of him had put me to a non-plus. And to give him yet more liberty to persecute me, Valerio, who took great pleasure in all these things, made shew of taking
his leave of me, and went and stayed for me in my chamber. Then began Leonardo
to tell me in a serious manner, which vexed me exceedingly, how he was ashamed
that his first visit was to request a favour from me, rather than to let me know that
he was in love with the reputation which I had gotten in so short a time; but in fine,
that he might oblige me by his freedom to use the same to him, he besought me that
I would cast a Figure to discover who it was that had got an Emerauld Ring which
was lost out of his house. I must confess, that I found my self then in so strange
a case, as if by wishing I could have become a Magician indeed, to get out of this
cross adventure, I verily think that I should have wished it. What shall I do, sayd I
to my self? What counsell am I to take? And what can I ansvver to so pressing a
discourse? It concerns not now the beguiling of an amorous mayd, or an ignorant
Lover; it is an old man that sayes he knovvs Astrology, that vvill discover my ignorance as soon as I shall speak; For to tell him a lye about this Ring, it vvill destroy it self: It vvere better for me to deal freely vvith him; he vvill be obliged to
me for undeceiving him; and then all things well considered, I had rather spoil all
my desigins than put a trick upon a man of this age. After I had determined to doe
so, I took a more serious look upon me for to tell him, how it was true, that
heretofore I had understood some principles of Astrology (for I could not resolve to
consess my self to be direstly an impoftor ) how upon that ground my friends had
given me the reputation of knowing somewhat; but that none of them had ever
any experience of it; how it was true also, that I had many times delivered my self
to be more knowing than I was, in some occasions, where feigning was rather a gallantry than a crime; but as for him, I desired it should appear, that the reputation
which I had gained was not so dear unto me, as his friendship, seeing I confessed ingeniously unto him, that I did not know enough either in Astrology, of in
the other sciences depending thereupon, for to be able to tell him that which he
desired of me. This discourse so clear and true had not the effect I expected from
it; for very far from being believed, I heard Leonardo say unto me smiling, Had I
not known by the report of others, that you are a learned man, your humility
would suffice to perswade me that you known much. I swear unto you, sayd I laughing (for I could not possibly forbear) that I know nothing. Even this which you
say, answered he, is that which confirms me in my belief of you; and thus modest
and discreet, continued he, ought they to be who know much; for their science
makes them to be known well enough, without any intermixture of their vanity.
If I were what you think me to be, sayd I interrupting him, I would acknowledge
it to you; but it is certain that I do not merit the honour you do me. I have already told you, answered he, that this humility is the greatest science of all; it being most sure, that every man which sayes he knows a thing well, is ignorant of it,
since he is arrived at the point to think that he knows it perfectly, But at length let
us return to our purpose, and permit me to tell you, that this Emerauld is graven,
and may serve for a Seal as well as for a Ring. I was so madded to see thst when I





had told lyes, I had been believed, and now that I spake truth, I could not be credited, as I vvas not able to ansvver him any thing, so much was I transported with choler and unquietness. But he, vvho vvas not repulsed by my silence, and that on the contrary conceived hovv I vvas thinking on something to satisfie him, said unto me again in a gentler manner than before; You are pleased to dissemble vvith me upon a premediated design, and I consent to all that you have said of your self, so as I may obtain that vvhish I desire of you: and to facilitate the business, said he further unto me, you are to know that this ring vvas lost between ten and eleven of the clock in the forenoon. Whilst I was in this case, namely in the strangest that ever any body was, I saw la Roche enter with a paper in his hand, who said unto me aloud, that he desired to speake a word with me about an important affair. I stept then from Leonardo and went to him; but I was joyfully surprised when I understood, that Lucretia, for her own interest, and the better to keep the jest afoot, had advertised him that Leonardo would come to learn some nevvs of me concerning a ring, which his daughter had given to Hortensio, who visited her about ten of clock in the morning in a riding suit, making shew that he was returned unto Genoua by his Fathers command; and that Leonardo having found thera together, Hortensio had made
as though he had lost a letter, which a brother of his had written him from Naples;
that after he was gone, Livia seeming very sad, and her father having demanded
of her what she ayled, she had told him, that the ring, which she had given to Hortensio was lost, to the end he should not marvell if he saw it no longer. This dicourse
made me wonderfull glad; I took the paper from la Roche the better to dissemble the
matter, and using a great deal of civility to Leonardo, I desired him to excuse the
liberty which I had taken. He answered me, that with him I was justified, provided I would not refuse him. I confess that the occasion of gulling him was so fair, as
I should have had much adoe too forbear; and Leonardo too had such a mind to be so,
as he would have been disobliged more in not being gulled, than in being gulled;
besides, it was in vain for me to tell him the truth again, which he would not understand, do what I could. He began again to press me; I resisted yet a while; but at
last, when I saw that he would needes have me devine, I spake to him with more certainty than an Astrologer, and more clearly than a Oracle, if he would have understood me rightly. After I had made a turn in the room without speaking a word,
I made a stop just before him, and said unto him; hitherto I have done what I could
to dissemble the little knowledge I have, that I might not do any thing which
would displease you; but since you will needes know it, I will confess freely unto
you, that I have already cast a figure for it upon the intreaty ofa kinswoman of
Liviaes; so that disguising the truth no longer, I am obliged to tell you, that a
man, whom you saw this morning in a riding suit, is he which hath the ring you
speak of. Who would ever have believed it, said Leonardo, that a man of his fashion
and qualitie, had been capable of so strange an action?  But young people that
have covetous fathers, are many times carried to ill habits by necessity; howsoever
I must find out this ring, and if it be possible demand it of him that hath taken it away without charging him that he stole it. After this discourse he gave me thanks,
and made me promise to come to supper to him. An hower after he was gone,
came an old fellow, who had served Leonardo about thirty yeares, presented to me
by la Roche, that told me with a simplicity which made me to laugh, how being resolved to return into his Country, and carry with him the little money which he
had gotten, he besought me that I would cause him and his treasure to be transported thither in a moment, for fear of robbing by the way. I know enough for that,
said my Agent then, without my Masters medling in it; and when I had confirmed
him in this opinion, away they went together. But whilst Valerio laughed at my
adventure, and I was thinking how I might finish it, the poor Hortensio past not his
time away so well. For it fell out that Leonardo had incountred him just as he went
out of my lodging; howbeit he accosted him civilly, and said no more to him but
that he had been an hower in seeking of him: For Hortensioes countenance so little





resembled that of a thief, as he was somewhat affraid to speak to him. Hortensio answered thereunto, that he would think himself happy, if it were to command him
any thing. How curteous he is? (thought Leonardo vvith himself as he delivered to
me aftervvard) and vvhat a pitty it is, that so handsom a man should have so bad
an inclination? Then taking courage, he said unto him, that having understood
there vvas a ring in his hands, vvhich had been lost out of his house, he desired he
might see it. And vvhereas Hortensio vvas surprised vvith this discourse, he seemed
to be so confounded, as Leonardo no longer doubted but that he vvas guilty. O me!
cryed Hortensio, what is this I hear? I do not say, replyed Leonardo,  that you are
faulty, but the party from whom you had it. How unhappy am I,  said Hortensi
interrupting him ? Asshst not your self, replyed Leonardo, for the hand which gave
it you, hath alone committed this fault, and so you are justified with me. Whilst
Leonardo did what he could to conceal from him the bad opinion he had of him,
he was perswaded, that this man knew the truth of the matter; and to justifie Liivia as much as possibly he could, he assured him that he alone was culpable; that
he alone had deceived him; that he denyed not but that this ring was in his hands;
and therefore he acknowledged he had just cause to complain of him. This is
strange, said Leonardo to himself, that the more I would excuse him, the more he
accuses himself! I say it to you again, continued the other, that I alone am worthy of punishment. No Hortensio, sayd Leonardo, you shall not perswade me to it; for
I am well informed of the truth of the business. Why then it is best for me, answered
Hortensio, not to make any further deniall, but in restoring you the ring to confess ingenuously that I was constrained by an inevitable neccssity, to do you this
wrong. I know well enough, replyed Leonardo, what youth is capable of, and what
necessity will make one doe. Hortensio, seeing Leonardo speak so gently unto him,
and believing, so ill did they understand one another, that he knew all which had
past between Livia and him, believed also that he was to make his profit of this occasion, and to speak plainly unto him. Since you know, said he to him, how to excuse my errors, will you be pleased to render them legitimate, in giving
me leave to marry Livia? you know my birth, and you may know my estate
when you please. Marry my daughter! cryed Leonardo, this proposition is so pleasant, as our conversation shall end there, for I do not think that you have reason to
continue it any longer, after I have assured you nevertheless that I shall be discreet.
Saying so, the old man went away,and left Hortensio more amazed, than ever he was
in his life, for he no way apprehended that Leonardowould accuse him of theft; and to
perplex him yet further, Aurelia appeared, who believing, according as I had told
her, that Hortensio had not concealed himself but because he was jealous, would en passant have laid some manner of gallanterie unto him. But he, who was not in a
case to dissemble, and that saw well enough how his love to Livia was upon
breaking  forth, said  unto her somewhat  rudely; you drove me away
at such time as by your direction I came to wait upon you, think it not strange
then if after that I never do see you more; and to recompence the love which
you have borne me with some freeness, know, that I am ingaged in an affection,
which cannot end but with my life. This said, he left her, for to go in all hast and
try if he could see Livia, to the end they might advise together about what they
were to do in so cross an adventure. In the mean time, Aurelia so replyed upon my
words, as she had much adoe to believe but that Hortensioes despisall was a mark of
love. As she was returning home in this irresolution, she incountred Leander, vvho
had seen Hortensio enter into Liviaes house, and Leonardo presently following in after him; so that inforced by his passion, and my counsell, he discovered unto her
the truth of the History: He informed her how it was by his meanes she was advertised in the morning, that Hortensio never parted from Genoua;  and that to
let her see how Livia wholly possessed his heart, he knew for a certain that he was at
that instant with her; having said to him just as he was going in, and he passing by, I
will no longer oppose your love. This discourse so netled Aurelia, as suddainly she
felt a strange revolution in her mind: After she had mused a little, and shewed by her





countenance how great a combat she had in her heart, she addressed her speech to
Leander; If that which you tell me be true, said she unto him, I confess that
Hortensio is not only unworthy of my affection, but is also unworthy to live. If
you did not seem to me somewhat interessed in this encounter, your word alone
should suffice to make me give credit to all things; but in this, where you are the
accuser, mine ovvn eyes must be the vvitnesses of his crime, if you will have them 
fabourable judges to you: conduct me to Liviaes house, and be assured that as soon as I have disturbed their felicity, for I mean to do it, I will establish yours. Leander, who would gladly have done more difficult things, for the hope of a prize that vvas so dear unto him, told her vvith a great deal of respect, joy, and love, that he vvas
ready to obey her. In the mean time it had fallen out, that within a minute after
Hortensio vvas gone in to Livia, Leonardo came home; so as he had no more leasure
but to let her knovv that her father had demanded the Ring of him, vvhich she had
given him, and that he had used all his endeavour to draw the crime wholly upon
himself; for as soon as Lucretia perceived Leonardo, she advertised them of it; whereupon Hortensio was constrained to hide himself in a corner of the Garden where
they vvere, it being impossible for him to get forth vvithout being seen. When supper time approached, I vvent thither; for I vvas not sorry to seek for an occasion of seeing in vvhat case Livia vvas in after so many odd adventures; as I vvas going
along I met vvith la Roche, vvho told me that he came from working his inchantment for the man who was afraid of robbing by the way; that after a thousand
devices, he had made him get astride upon a pale, as it were upon an horse; and
there having bound up his eyes, and tyed both his hands and his feet, he left him
talking the maddest things in the world, out of a conceit he had that he was flying in
the air, and that to keep him from being robbed by the way, he had taken his money
from him without his perceiving it. I rebuked him for his foolery, and having
commanded him to follow me, I entered intoLeonardoes house, just as he was going to accost his daughter, who seeing me, would have pulled down her Vail over
her face, but he not permitting her so to do, told her, that a man, to whom she was
ingaged for the recovery of a Ring which was so dear unto her, well deserved to
have the pleasure of beholding her. We were both of us then very much abashed,
for I knew nothing of that which had past betwixt him and Hortensio; and she feared
that her father would give her some cruel check or other. Howbeit I was not so
taken up, but that I heard, in regard I was advertised of it before, hovv the poor
simpleton vvhom la Roche had tyed up in this garden, sayd, that he had dispatched a
great deal of way already; and I find, continued he, hearing us talk a far
off where we were, that I fly very high, for the sound of voyces doth diminish.
In the mean time we were mightily surprised to see Aurelia, led by Leander come
in, who appearing with an angry countenance put the whole company into a great
confusion. Leonardo, who perceived that this visit was not made in an accustomed
hour, could not imagine the cause of it; Livia, who before time had had some jealousie of Aurelia, and knew that Hortensio was not above five or six steps from thence in a green Arbor, could not tell what to think of it; Leander though he was very
certain that he had seen Hortensio enter there, and Leonardo follow him, yet was afraid that he should not keep his word with Aurelia; Hortensio, albeit he were hid,
was not in the least pain, for that he coud not doubt that that he should have some share in Aureliaes visit; la Roche too was not very much at ease to see so great a company in the very same place where his traveller was, which still continued prating, though not heard of any but my self, who in conclusion was not without a great deal of unquietnes, to behold so many folks together, which in all likelyhood would complain of me. These severall reasonings, which I have declared unto you, were made for all that in one instant; for we were not long without knowing wherefore Aurelia came; who, having neither father nor mother, & living only under the tutition of an uncle, took more liberty to her self than ordinarily the Mayds of Italy use to do. She advanced then with a boldness that amazed me, and addressing her speech to Leonardo, without scarcely turning her eyes towards Livia; Marvail not, said she 





unto him, Leonardo, to see this visit made to you, rather than to your daughter; seeing it is from you that I expect the revenge I desire. You are abused, Leonardo, and I am despised by a man whom Livia loves, and who at this present is hidden somewhere here about your house: I desired to advertise you of it, that we might both of us be revenged together. This discourse dejected Livia; made Leonardo knit his brows; Leander shrink up his shoulder; Lucretia give back; as for Hortensio, it is easie to imagine that he was but in an ill taking; and touching my self, in the middest of the amazement wherein I was, I felt some joy in hoping to see an end 
of this adventure;  in the mean time I could not chuse but hear the new Astolpho
say, what lamentable voyces are these, and into what a fright do they put me, ah,
la Roche, am I to fear nothing? At length, Leonardo, being come out of the
astonishment which had seized upon him, beheld Aurelia with fury, and taking
her by the hand, What, said he unto her, a man hid about my house! we must seek
every where, for I will not have this suspition rest with any body; come, Aurelia,
that I may revenge you, or be revenged on you, if that which you tell me be not
true. What a confusion of voyces is here, sayd the Traveller? In the mean space
Leonardo commanded all the doors to be shut, and leading Aurelia, and causing Livia
with all the rest of the company to follow, he began first to search in the Garden.
We had not gone four steps, but they perceived this man tyed on the pale, who made
a great coil as it were to go the faster. The sight of him arresting all the troup,
Leonardo asked whether this was his daughters Lover; Aurelia looked on Leander; Livia began to take a little  heart, hoping they would search no further, and so
Hortensio would not be found. But going formost, I untyed the poor sot, and said
to Leonardo, that this was without doubt the knavery of my servant, who was willing to make sport with the simplicity of this man. He was no sooner untyed, but
following his imagination, Behold, sayd he, how at length I am come into my
Country; it is fit I should kiss the earth where first I drew my breath. And when as
Leonardo demanded of him, what it was that he did. Alass! Master, sayd he, are you
also come into my Country, withall this goodly company? La Roche approaching
sayd to him softly, you have not done all that I enjoyncd you, for do not you perceive that you are still at Genoua The poor wretch grew then so astonished as he
could not answer a word. In the mean time Aurelia having told Leonardo, that
this was not he she sought for, we continued going on. And when Leonardo had
demanded whether there were nothing behind a Jasmin hedge which vvas right before us; Hortensio, vvho savv that he should be discovered, because the Arbor vvhere
he vvas hidden vvas hard by it, resolved to shevv himself, rather than to be taken
vvith the manner. He vvent forth then boldly, and speaking to Leonardo; Seek no
further, sayd he unto him, I am he alone who is hidden here, and that will not oppose
the revenge which you will take of me for it. This is not amiss, sayd Leonardo to me,
I seek for my daughters Lover, and I find a Thief. You think peradventure, sayd
he unto him, to steal another Ring from me, but I will keep you well enough from
it; and in the consideration of your Father, who is a man of honour, I will onely
secure my self of your person. Aurelia thought Leonardo was wild, in taking Hortensio for a thief; Leander and Livia beleeved the same thing; Hortensio himself knew
not what he meant by it; and I alone was he that could clear this Enigma. And as
I was preparing to speak, Hortensio said to Leonardo, that he had loved his daughter two years; that he had had the Ring from her; that he was no thief; and that
he might know of her whether he told the truth or no. Aurelia would have spoken, but choler would not suffer her; Livia indeed had love enough to have confirmed that which Hortensio sayd, but she was retained by shame, howbeit she was
fain to surmount it, when her Father asked of her, whither that which he heard
was true? for she answered, how hoping that this mariage would not displease
him, it was true that she had given him that Ring for the first obligation thereof.
Leonardo had no sooner received his daughters answer, but taking me aside he
consulted with me about what he ought to do in this encounter; for he did not suspect me as yet. I confess, that then I took pitty of all the displeasures I had done




them, and in that good thought, I counselled him for the honour of his daughter, to mary them together. He told me how that indeed was the custom of Italie, and that he was glad my advice was conformable to the use of the Country, which in these occasions will have them to be either poniarded or maryed. Leonardo having resolved on the last, came to them again with a calmer countenance, and making some excuses to Aurelia for that he did not revenge her, he told Hortensio, that for my sake he not only pardoned him, but also promised him his daughter. These two Lovers were so satisfied, and so pleasingly surprised, as it was impossible for them to express their joy; Leander was so contented in seeing no further obstacle to his love, as he presently summoned Aurelia to the performance of her word, who confimed it unto him with generosity enough. But the best in this generall rejoycing was, that Livia, in a gallantery, came, and smiling sayd unto me, I counsel you another time to rely more on your merit than on your science, since though you have wholly employed it for the interrupting of my mariage, yet you see that your Art is deceitfull. And continued Aurelia, in somewhat a sharper manner, you assured
me that I was beloved of Hortensio, whereas I no sooner encountred him, but I see
him maryed to another, which shews that your Astrology is false. As for me, said
Leander, you perswaded me that Aurelia did not love Hortensio, in the mean time
the proof she hath rendred of the contrary, testifyes the untruth of your books. And
for my part, sayd the Traveller, he promised to send me into my country without
any danger of robbing, and lo I am still at Genoua. All this was spoken to me so
precipitously as I was surprised with it; nevertheless being fully resolved to continue no longer an Astrologer, I made use of this occasson; for causing Lucretia to
approach, that she might witness that which I meant to say, I besought Leonardo to
pardon me for that I was going to confess unto him, seeing my gullerie had had so
happy an end for him; and that he would call to mind how it was not long of me,
that he did not believe me to be no Astrologer. I recounted unto them my love to
Livia; in what manner I knew her secret, and consequently all that I have told you.
And after I had obtained Lucretiaes pardon as well as mine ovvn, I made it appear
that I had satisfied them without Astrology: For, sayd I to Leonardo, you asked me
for your Ring, and I have made you to find it; to Livia, I have told you the most
concealed particulars of your adventure; to Leander, I made you hope for the possession of Aurelia, which she promises to you her self; to Aurelia, I have undeceived
you from Hortensio, and made you acknowledge the fidelity of Leander; to the traveller, I promised you that you should not be robbed by the way, and I have kept my
word with you; for I am sure you are not in case so to be, la Roche having provided for that by taking away your mony, which I command him to restore unto
you presently; so that you see I have not failed in my promise to every one: for
touching my self, sayd I laughing, you perceive I am he alone for whom I have
done nothing; so that to recompence me in some sort for so many unprofitable pains,
grant me Valerioes pardon, vvhich especially I demand of Leander, as of the most
offended, but withall the most obliged to his friends gullery, since without him he
durst never have thought of the happiness which he possesseth. In conclusion, said
I to them still laughing, whereas you know that I am a dangerous enemy, I counsell
you, as persons whom I esteem, to receive me for your friend. They burst out then
into so great a laughter, as they thought they should never have been quiet again
to hear the complement, which Leonardo made me, who assured me that the pleasure
I had given him by my relation, was so great, as he should alwaies remember it,
as an important service which I had rendred him, and that he would not for any
thing but that this gullery had been, it was so diverting: Livia told me next, that
she was of her fathers mind, and though she had denyed me her love, yet did she promise me her friendship; Hortensio added thereunto, that he was so much obliged
unto me for drawing him out of prison, as he could not chuse but swear an inviolable affection to me; and Leander, vvho was engaged to me for the possession of
his Mistress, gave himself wholly unto me; for Aurelia, as she was least satisfied so
was her complement the coldest, being contented onely to tell me, that she should




never forget the visit I had given her, but nevertheless whensoever she had any hate, it should not be for me; whereupon she would have gone away, but I advised Leonardo to send for Cinthio her Uncle, and also for Valerio, to the end they should not
part asunder till all things were peaceably concluded. This was almost as soon executed as I had mentioned it; in the mean time Livia and Aurelia, having talked a
pretty while together alone, called Hortensio and Leander to them, and such things
passed between them, as they found themselves all four extremely contented. Cinthio
and Valerio being come, and a fair conclusion made on all sides, the whole company supped with Leonardo, though none but I was invited. Howbeit that I may not,
Madam, further extend a relation, which is already but too long, I shall tell you,
that within a while after I was bidden to their wedding, whither I came with more
love than all these four together had; for I had enough for every woman of the assembly. But at length, night being come, I left them maryed and contented; I say
contented, because I am not an Historian but for the first day of their Nuptials,
which ordinarily is full of joy and gladness. Nevertheless that which troubled me
afterwards was, how not able to keep the matter from being divulged, the
same people who had pointed at me before as at a Magician, looked upon me then
as on an impostor, and jeered me in such sort as I durst not peep out of doors. But
it is also true, that the same adventure was the cause of a greater good unto me;
for by the Count of Lauagnes curiosity I got the honour of his acquaintance and
friendship, which hath likewise produced yours too, Madam, and hath also given
me the noblest passion that ever I had in my life. I must confess, sayd the Princess,
that you are incomparable, and that in regard of what I have heard, there is none
but will say how you are a dangerous enemy, and a pleasing friend. Ah, Madam,
sayd the Marquis, do not ruin me with Æmilia! no, no, sayd this mayd, for I promise you not to judge of you but by your self, who, as I beleeve, will perswade me
that, which her Excellency speaks of, better than she can, as eloquent as she is. I
would fain know, sayd Doria, speaking to the Marquis, whether they from whom
you take your love, may pretend still to your friendship. Yes, answered he, provided they have been favourable to me; for as for the rest, they are so indifferent
unto me, as it would be more advantageous for them, that I should hate them. This
is a pretty discourse indeed, sayd Justiniano, since that by this reason, the fair Æmilia
ought not to be cruell unto you, to the end she may by receiving your love favourably pretend one day to your friendship, I confess, said the Count, that the Marquis
his opinion teaches me a new tenet, which I did not beleeve could be possible; I have
always heard it sayd, that friendship is many times a way to love, but that love
should be the way to friendship, is a thing which hath but few examples, and no
reason at all. This dispute would be a little too long, sayd the Princess, botn for the
time and the place, and I think it were fitter for us to return unto Monaco before
the ending of the day, which will not permit us to walk; but this agreeable discourse hath given us so much satisfaction, as we have no reason to regret it. The
whole company then arose; the Count led Isabella; the Marquis Æmilia; Justiniano and
Doria went together; and the Princesses women, together with other of her servants,
followed after without order. All this fair troop went aboord of the Galley which
brought them thither, whereof the Princess never made use, but when she went to this
place. The rest of the evening was wholly imployed in talking of the Marquis his
adventures, each one repeating in particular that which had seemed most pleasant
to them therein. Isabella likewise caused her kinswoman, who had an excellent
voyce, to sing; the Marquis plaid on the Lute, and sung also with the beautisul Æmilia; so that concluding this day with Musick, they bid the Princess good night,
and retired to their lodgings.
IBRAHIM: OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The second part.The Third Book.HOw delightfull soever this company might be, yet was the
Count to return unto Genoua, not daring to stay longer in a
place whither he had been sent. He took his leave then of the
Princess, who desired him to assure the Senate of her acknowledgement, and that ere long she would be at Genoua her self to
render them thanks in particular for the honor they had done
her; The Marquis also kissed her robe; she caressed him very
much, and prayed him to remember, that he left a Mistress at
Monaco, shewing him Æmilia. The Marquis answered laughing, that he should not
fail therein, and to the end she might not doubt of it, he would take the libertie
to vvrite unto her. I shall be glad of that, said the Princess, and will enjoyn Æmilia to receive your letters. In the mean time Doria, vvho vvas in love vvith the
Counts sister-in-law, named Sophronia, began to be in some unquietness for that he
did not return unto Genoua; vvhich being observed by Justiniano, he conjured him
to abide no longer at Monaco, and to go along vvith the Count. Doria vvithstood it
a vvhile, but at length he suffred himself to be persvvaded to that vvhich he desired.
The Marquis vvas so dextrous, as he took the opportunity, vvhilst the rest vvere
complementing with the Princess, to approch unto Æmilia, for to assure her a
little more seriously than he had used to do, that he had such thoughts for her, as
he had never before but onely for two or three of all that great multitude of vvomen vvhich he had loved in his time; it is likely he vvould have said more unto
her, had not the Count gone away. They departed out of the Princesses chamber;
accompanied by Justiniano; vvho conducted them to the Port, vvhere they imbraced one another vvith a great deal of kindness, and also renevved their friendship
vvith nevv protestations. Having vveighed anchor, upon the Counts Signall given,
the slaves fell to rovving, and in an instant the gally vvas carried far from the shoar,
and from Justiniano, vvho in returning to the Castle began to fear, that the Princess
vvould press him to declare the end of his History, and likevvise to consider vvith
astonishment the deplorable estate he was in; but going insensibly along tovvards
the Princess, he found himself in her chamber, before he was avvare that he vvas
come thither. This sad thought had already painted such a melancholy in his face,
as Isabella perceived it as soon as he entred, and for vvich she quarrelled vvith him,
saying that it proceeded from the absence of his friends. Justiniano, surprised vvith
this discourse, laboured to recollect himself, and told her, he had been so accustomed to sadness, that assoon as he was but a moment out of her sight, it still regained
some empire over his heart. And to keep the Princess from speaking to him of ending his history, he besought her to be so good as to relate to him all that had arri-




ved unto her daring so long an absence. Alas! said she unto him, what do you ask
of me? Doth it not suffice that you know you were not here; that I believed you to
be either inconstant, or dead; and that being in a place wherinto I could forbid an
entrance to all the world, I have scarce had any other adventure, than to weep all
day long, at leastwise since the death of my mother, and the unlucky love of the
Prince of Masseran, which Doria hath recounted unto you, as also that of some other
Soveraignes of Italy, where nothing hath past more remarkeable, than the coldness
which I have used towards them. And truly in so austere a solitariness, I wanted not
imployment; the remembrance of our felicities past, and of our then miseries furnished me but with too much entertainment of my self; and I may say that the memory of our good fortune was more cruell to me, than the sense of our ill fortune.
But, continued she, these thoughts are too dolefull, for so happy a season as this is,
wherein I see you; and we are not yet so far eloigned from the time in which we
thought to have suffered shipwrack, as to look upon this Sea without dread or grief.
The adventure of the Prince of Salerno, and of Don Fernando de Mendoza, said Æmilia interrupting her, is not so inconsiderable, as that you should not be obliged
to impart it unto a person who hath rendred you so exact an account of his life;
but if either your modesty, or your compassion, doth hinder you from acquainting
him with the effects of your beauty, and the mischiefes vvhich you have caused
without thinking of them, I do offer to make him a faithfull recitall thereof. You
will be unjust, Madam, answered Justiniano, if you will not permit that I shall
know what hath befallen you, aud you will give me cause to fear that remembrance
of some one of my Rivalls doth touch you but too sensibly. The Princess did what
she could to remit the matter to another time; but Justiniano, who sought to shun
the occasions of speaking of the end of his adventures, was willing to oblige the
Princess to let him understand hers. When as the saw then that he was resolved for it,
she took a pretext to go and write to Leonardo, the Count of Lauagnes wife, to the
end she might not be present at Æmiliaes relation. Justiniano complained for that
she deprived him of the sight of her, but whatsoever he could say, she entred into her
Cabinet, saying she would punish him for his obstinate curiosity. She was no sooner gone, but Æmilia, having first been permitted by Isabella so to doe, began to
speak in this sort to Justiniano.
The History of Isabella.SEeing the Princess hath commanded me to render you an account of her life, I
am very willing to obey her, having nothing to tell you that is not advantagious for her, and also for you. I will not repeat her first adventures, since I know
that you are not ignorant of the Prince of Masserans love Juliaes violence and
artifices, Felicianaes
treason, Doriaes generous resentment, the death of that infortunate lover, and consequently that of Julia. But I will onely tell you, that when she
saw she was Mistress of her self, by the loss of her mother, and that she had in vain
sent to seek for you in Germany, she resolved to go no more to Genoua, but to live
alwaies at Monaco to avoid the counsells and propositions, which she foresaw
would be urged upon her for to draw her to mary, though she had iugaged her
faith to you. For whereas your long absence had made all the world believe that
you were dead, there wanted no reasons to be alleged unto her for the perswading
of her to the change of her resolution. As indeed, notwithstanding all the care she
had taken, to bar an entrance into Monaco of all those which might speak to her of
such like matters, yet the same of her beauty and vertue was spread abroad in such
manner, as there was not a Prince in all Italy, which sent not unto her for a permission to visit and serve her. But she, who feared her Lovers more than her Enemies,
brought so much care to the frustrating of all their designes, as none of them could
ever obtain so much as the liberty to see her. She lived in this austere retiredness untill such time, as about a year ago, or little less, there ran a rumor in Genoua that


you had been seen at Naples; whereupon she sent the Lieutenant of her guard unto you, who, as you know, found you in a place far from that where he vvent to seek you. It vvas much about that time, vvhen as, having lost my mother, I came against the Princesses mind, to shut up my self vvith her, she being unvvilling, as she said, that I should be made unhappy for her sake. But do vvhat she could, my intreaties vvere stronger than her reasons, so that she vvas contented to accord me that, which I demanded of her with so much affection. That false newes which had been reported of you gave her a true joy, and made her with the more ease constrain herself, and not seem to be the more supportable to me, she walked oftner than she was wont to doe; she retired less into her Cabinet, for the entertaining of her thoughts; and her complinance for me, together with the secret hope she had of seeing you again, wrought so powerfully upon her mind, as they dissipated a part of her grief, and put her soul in a more peaceable estate. She took pleasure in recounting to me your first adventures; she shewed me your letters, and the verses which you had made for her; and by the praises which I gave them, I quickly got more esteem, and love, from her than I had before. She suffered me also sometimes to sing an ayr
unto her; and whereas she called to mind the passion which you had ever had for
musick, I dare say, how it was more for the love of you, than for the love of me,
that she retained one of your Rivalis in her service. Æmilia, perceiving that this
discourse had made Justiniano change colour, could not forbear laughing at it; and
desiring to draw him out of the pain whereinto she had put him; Be patient, said she
unto him, and judge not precipitously of a matter, for which you will afterwards
without doubt repent you. I know, answered Justiniano, that I should be unjust in
desiring to be a judge of Isabella; but I know withall that fear is inseparable from
love, and that in this occasion I ought to give you some marks of it. I will soon
make it cease, continued Æmilia, but prepare your self to understand the most fantastick adventure, and the strangest incounter, that ever you heard off: You are to
know then, said she going on, how that great reputation of beauty which the Princess had all over Italy, begot a curiosity at one and the same time in the mindes of the
young Prince of Salerno, and Don Fernando de Mendoza, vvho for a long time had
been in the War of Milan under the Marquis of Guast; and albeit they knevv not
one another; though the one vvas of Italy, and the other of Spain; though the first
vvas at Naples, and the other at Milan; yet took they both of them the same resolution. The Prince of Salerno vvas handsom, of a good mine, and full of spirit; and
whereas in studying the Mathematicks, he had learned to design, he had afterwards
applyed himself to painting, and was become so excellent in that art, as few Masters
in Italy had done braver things than he. This young Prince being resolved to see
whether fame did not flatter the Princess, and knowing by the example of others,
that it would be no boot for him to present himself at Monaco with an equipage
proportionable to his condition, he concluded to go thither disguised; and that
he might the easilier find out the meanes to approch unto the Princess,he purposed to
say that he was a Painter. Don Fernando de Mendoza, as I have already declared, having a like desire, and a like curiosity, used also the same meanes to content it:
For as the Prince of Salerno would pass for a Painter, so would Don Fernando, who
understood musick perfectly, pass for a Musician. They disguised themselves then
after the manner they had resolved on, and without knowing ought of one another, they came to Monaco at the time which I have noted; and when as the hope of
seeing you again, and the Princesses compliance for me, had rendred her melancholy more sociable. The first that arrived at Monaco was Don Fernando,  who retained
this name onely, leaving that of Mendoza, as too illustrious for him whom he pretended to be. And whereas the Princess had ordained a long time before, that no
stranger should enter into the Town, without first advertising her of it, they came
presently and told her, that a man, which gave himself out to be a Musician, desired
to enter. At first she thought not to have seen him, but as for me, who had no other
design but to delight her, I besought her to command he might be admitted to en-





ter, to the end we might see whether he were skillfull enough to keep me from
forgetting that which I had already learned in Musick; and to oblige her not to deny me, I caused her to remember the passion which she had told me you had ever
had for this excellent art; and it was without doubt that in this sort the sole consideration of you introduced Don Fernando into the Castle, although the Princess
had the goodness to tell me, that she should be very glad there could any thing be
met withall, which could keep me from being weary of Monaco. But in the end
Don Fernando appeared, and albeit both the Princess and my self found something
that was great in his countenance, yet suspected we nothing of the truth, attributing that lofty ayr to the Nation, whereof he said he was; for he did not conceal
himself from being a Spaniard, in regard, though he spake Italian well enough,
he would yet have been known by his pronunciation. The Princess demanded of
him, of whence he was, whether he was going, what he could doe; and to all those
particulars he answered exactly. As for his science, he desired the Princess that she
would be the judge of it, and hear him sing. She would fain have referred herself
to me, but giving her no leisure to command me unto it, I sent for a Violl and a
Lute, to the end he might shew us what he could doe. I well observed, how he beheld the Princess with a great deal of attention, and also how he blushed two or
three times. But whereas the greatest beauties strike everyone with admiration, I
took his blushing for a mark of his respest, and his attention for an ordinary effect
of Isabellaes beauty. When that was brought which I had sent for, he took a Lute
and truly touched it reasonably well; but when he had plaid on it, and that to sing
he had taken a Violl in his hand, he perswaded us yet better by his play, that he was
a Spaniard, than he had done by his pronunciation, it being most certain that it is impossible to play better: He sung also with a very good grace, and with much art;
As for me, I confess unto you that I was ravished with it. And whereas the Princess perceived the satisfaction that I received by it, and was resolved to please me
as much as she could, she demanded of Don Fernando, whether he would abide with
her for some time to be my Master? He very vvell contented with this proposition,
told her, that she did him too much honor, and though his purpose was not to make
any stay at Monaco, yet should he esteem himself infinitely happy, if he could be able to render her any service. Thus see you Don Fernando lodged in the Castle, and
in the rank of the Princesses domesticall servants, but more yet, of that of her lovers. For as we know afterwards, he became so desperately in love with her, as he
resolved to do all that he might for to gain her to himself, by any way whatsoever.
Certain dayes after, the Prince of Salerno, who gave himself the name of Lucilio, arrived also at Monaco, and according to order it was told the Princess, hovv there
vvas a young Painter, vvho said, he came from Rome, that desired to shevv hersome
small pieces of his ovvn dravving.  She vvho, as I have already declared, sought to
delight me, commanded him to be brought to her; Don Fernando was at that time
in the Princesses chamber, vvhom I had caused to come thither to hear a Spanish
ayr, vvhich had extremely pleased me. The Prince of Salerno being come to the
Castle, entred into the room, where we were, with a profound respect, and
shewed the Princess two small pieces  of his drawing, admirably well done.
In the first was seen a Sea represented, whose waves seemed to be very much moved,
and a far of on the shore a man, who, mauger the counsell of divers persons, which
seemed by their actions to hinder him from it, leapt into a skiff, and abandoned
himself to the fury ofthe Sea, shewing them with one hand the point of a Rock,
which stood up in the midst of this Sea, as is he had a desire to go and suffer shipwrack there. The second picture was an Icarus, of an extraordinary design; and
though the first piece expounded unto us that of the Prince of Salerno, yet did we
not understand any part of that emblem; and the Princess, without comprehending
ought that was mysterious therein, exceedingly commended his work. For, as you
know, she might be a competent judge of such like things, in regard she herself
could paint very well, though since your departure she hath wrought so little, as
one may say, she hath nothing left but the bare knowledge of that rare art; having





utterly lost the use of applying the colours. In the mean time the Princess finding those two pieces to her mind, bought them to bestow on me. And having demanded of this pretended Painter, whether he could work in great, as well as in little, and he answering that it was ordinary with him, she resolved to have him paint a Cabinet that was within the lodgings, which she had given me, to the end she might at leastwise render my prison more agreeable, as she sayd. She demanded of him if he would undertake it; and he, more contented than I am able to tell you, expressed a mighty desire to be at her sevice; so that the matter being resolved on, and the Princess having commanded him to see he Cabinet, and to think of contriving the design thereof, she appointed him to be lodged with Don Fernando, holding it an injustice to separate two such fair sisters, as Musick and Painting; and so did she lodge the two Rivals together, that is to say, two Enemies, and without her knowing of it, and without their knowing of it also. For if Don Fernando was become amorous at the first sight of the Princess, the Prince of Salerno was charmed with it. I was very well perceived, as well as Don Fernando, how He beheld her with an extraordinary attention; but I marvailed yet less at that than at the other, imagining that he was a Painter, so being well seen in beauties, he would conserve some Idea of that of the Princess, to make use thereof in his Pictures. Don Fernando and he complemented very kindly one with another, and were as great friends at first, as they were foes afterwards.
They thought in the mean while, each of them in particular, of the design they had
in hand, and dextrously informing themselves of the Princesses mind, they learnt
how she loved you still, and that although the greatest part of the World believed
you to be dead, yet was ihe absolutely resolved never to engage that faith unto another, which she had given you: Whereupon they conceived it would be to no purpose for them to discover themselves as yet to the Princess; but contrarily, that it
would be the means of ruining all their designs, and depriving them of her sight
for ever. Wherefore they resolved to continue with her as long as they could;
carefully to observe her disposition; to please her as much as possibly they could;
and to work according to occasion. For afterwards we understood both all their
designs, and all their reasonings, which in this encounter were almost the very same.
Behold them then in the determination to render themselves agreeable to the Princess, and to me also, because they perceived that I was gracious with her. Don Fernando
taught me Musick with a great deal of care, and concealed none of the secrets of
this Art from me; yet sometimes he was vext for that I learned so fast; for, said he
to himself, as we understood afterwards, as soon as she knows as much as I knovv,
I shall be discharged; and is I doe not teach her as I should, they will turn me away.
Howsoever he made choice of the first, and indeed was one of the best Masters in the
World. The Painter on the other side drew out the designs of his Pictures, where
I think he put all the disguisements of Jupiter, Apollo, Mercury, and of all the other Gods of the Fiction. But the best was, that what he did to continue the longer
at Monaco, had like to have driven him from thence; for fearing left he should be
discarded when the painting of this Cabinet came once to be finished, he wrought
so slowly, as one might say it was Penelopes Web, and how he undid that in the night
which he had done in the day. Nevertheless, wheras the little which he did was very
excellent, the Princess would not follow the counsell that my impatience gave her
about it. Now if the Prince of Salerno intimated love to the Princess by his Pictures,
the Musician did no less by his Songs; for with equivocating words he told her
what he was, and what he thought. But she had her mind so eloigned from such
like things, as she made no application, either of the one, or of the other of them to
her self. In the mean time, these two Rivals becomming every day more and more
amorous, and the Princess always expressing a great deal of goodness towards them
they beleeved, each of them in his particular, that she esteemed  them enough to
pardon a violence when as they should execute it; though not enough to receive
them favourably whenas she might refuse them: so that carryed with some hope, and a great deal of despair all at once, the Prince of Salerno, by the means of the





Master of his Horse, who came into the Town in the habit of a Fisher-man, to
know if he wanted anything, gave order to have a vessell of War brought near to
Monaco, for the design which he premeditated: And Don Fernando, who knew well
enough that the Spaniards do not disapprove of those who augment their dominion
by any way whatsoever, sent a Gentleman, whom he had dravvn disguised disguised into the
town, to fetch him mony, and some troops of the Milanese, by the permission of
the Marquis of Guast, to whom he wrote about it, for the executing of that which
he thought on. During these preparations, the Painter and the Musician continued their endeavours still about the Princess; the one always made mysterious
Pictures, and the other always sung Songs, wherein he spake of love without being understood, so that they came to be somewhat suspitious one of another; and
that which began to make them so, was, for that Don Fernando not seeing the Princess enough to content the extreme passion wherein he was for her, had intreated the
Painter in private to draw her picture for him, and let no body know of it. The
manner of Don Fernandoes making this proposition begot some sospition in the
Prince of Salerno; and the manner also of his excusing himself from embracingit,
made Don Fernando observe him with the more care; so that passing over again in their
memory how they had lived together before, they found wherewith to augment
their suspitions, but not wherewith to doubt of that which they thought. After this
they never lived wel together; they traduced one anothers profession; the Painter said
that he had heard better singing at Rome; and the other affirmed that all the designs
of the Prince of Salernoes Pictures were stoln from antient Painters. One day as they
were in the Princesses chamber, they entred into a dispute before her, and by that
liberty forgot the personage which they represented; yet was not she offended at it,
but contrarily took pleasure in hearing them. The Painter would have his Art carry it from Musick; he sayd that it was the imitator of Nature; he vaunted that he
could beguile the eyes, and deceive reason by the illusions of perspestive; he sayd
moreover, that it was Painting which made men live after their death; that it was
she which erected Tropheis for the victorious; that by her we see battels which we
had not seen; that by her we know Alexander and all the Heroes of Antiquity; that
by her we make voyages without stirring out of our Cabinets; that by her we see
our friends though they be absent; that she was a visible History, a mute Poesie;
and to say all, that she was so excellent, as a good Painter might almost boast himself to be the creator of the things which he represents. The Musician, who would
not give place to the Painter, maintained, that there was the same difference between Painting and Musick, as between the body and the soul; that this first was
wholly materiall and gross incomparison of the other, which was altogether spirituall; that if Painting erected Tropheis to the victorious, Musick sung their
victoryes; that the one touched nought but the eys, whereas the other, all celestiall and divine, wrought upon the very soul with so much power, as she excited
or appeased the passions as she pleased; and by this sweet tyranny rendred her self
absolute mistris of all reasonable persons. He sayd farther, that to judge rightly of
the advantage which she had over Painting, we were but to consider, that the best
illusions she can make, do alwaies work a greater effect upon the rude vulgar than
on worthy people; that indeed she might strike these with admiration, but never
utterly deceive them, so that she operates more powerfully upon the ignorant than
on the able. He added, that it was not so with Musick, which did not predominate absolutely but over reasonable person: that to have wit is not enough for us to
become her subjects, and be charmed by her; but we must also have, not only some
knowledge of this Art, but likewise a great and noble soul; so that quite contrary to Painting, the more able  we are, the more we suffer our selves to be vanquished by her charms: That the other was but a deceiver, which pays us with nothing
but apparences, and so impotent, that she can do nothing of her self, or to say better, that she is nothing without the help of cloth, pencils, and colours; That the
beauties of Musick were effective beauties, and to shew her independency we are but
to consider, that she is no other than a pure effect of the imagination, guided by




judgement; so that having no need of forraign things, it is not hard to judge, what
advantage she hath over Painting. It is certain, that the dispute of these two
men seemed too transcendent to me for persons of their profession, and I began to
look on the Princess in a manner, which testifyed unto her how much I was amazed
thereat, when as Don Fernando, perceiving it, took presently upon him the humor,
which is ordinarily attributed to Musicians; and with a caprichiousness, wherein no
feigning appeared, he gave an hundred geering quipps to the Prince of Salerno, who
played his part as well as the other; so that returning out of the amazement which I
had been in, I reflected no further upon it, but heard the rest of their dispute with
great delight; for they made so pleasant a Satyre against each others profession, as
the Princess herself, spight of her melancoholy, could not forbear laughing.
Howbeit she would have them become friends before they departed; and having demanded of them why they bore such a spleen one to an other, for she had been advertised of it, they were much troubled how to answer her. Don Fernando, being
ever the bolder, spake first in this incounter, and told her, that on his pare she was
the true cause of it. The Painter, exceedingly surprised with this discourse, knew
not what to think thereof; when as Don Fernando prosecuting it, gave them to understand, how that which made him so averse unto him, was the thought he had,
that when he should be gone from Monaco, the Princess could not chuse but remember him, because she should alwaies see his Pictures, whereas if it were his ill fortune to depart from thence, she would presently forget him, nothing remaining of
him that might make him be remembred of her. If this jealousie did not shew as
much malice as affection, replyed the Painter, I should fear the Princess might take
it well at your hands, but as I believe her to be very equitable, so I think she will
find the coldness which is betwixt us better grounded, when as I shall tell her, that
our dissension proceeds from our not knowing one another. Or it may be, said Don
Fernando interrupting him, from our knowing one another too well. Never a whit
replyed the Painter, for you are as unskilfull in painting, as I am in musick, and so
we are but bad judges of each other; and it is the Princess alone, which will one day
put a difference between us, when as she shall know me better: and that the designes
which I am about shall be wholly finished. The Princess, who thought he spake of
the designes of his Pictures, told him, that she knew him enough already to admire
all that he did. And whereas Don Fernando would have replyed, she forbad him,
and commanded them both to live better together afterwards, than they had done.
They answered, that they would obey her as much as they could, and so retyred
with a great deal of unquietness. The Prince of Salerno found Don Fernando too hardy for a Musician, and found also, that all his songs were too passionate, too amorous, and suiting too much with the Princess, for to be sung without design. In fine
he thought, that as he was capable of disguising himself like a Painter, so might another be of disguising himself like a Musician. Nevertheless this likely suspition
continued not long with him; and considering how much men of this profession are
caressed by great persons, he no longer mervailed at his boldness; he found likewise that his observations upon his songs were ridiculous; for, said he, as we understood since, upon what subject would I have them made,  that they should not
suit with the Princess? All songs for the most part are of love, they speak of
beauty, of dispair, of respect, of fear, of Jealousie; they say that they dare not discover themselves; that love would have them, and that respest will not suffer them
to do so: And whereas few songs are made upon giving of thanks, I am not to wonder if Don Fernando sings that, which is sung every where, and in all languages. Whilst the Prince of Salerno deceived himself in this sort, the Musician reasoned with himself about that which had passed between them; but that which he stood most upon, was his observation, that in all the designes which this Painter had drawen at Monaco, there was alwaies some disguisement in them. Howbeit he himself destroyed his own reasonings, as well as the Prince of Salerno; and coming to consider, that Fiction is one of the greatest sciences of Painters, he changed his opinion: And that which prevailed yet more with him vvas to see him, whom he be-




held many times as his Rivall, paint so excellently; for he could not imagine that
a man of quality could understand this Art so perfectly. These divers thoughts
never for all that so vvell setled in their minds, but that they past often from the
one to the other, and so were alwaies ready to quarrell one with another. Sometimes the interest of their Nations was the occasion of their disputes; and if the
Princess authority, joyned to the fear which they had of venturing themselves unseasonably, and destroying their designes, had not kept them from it, they had
without doubt fought more than once. In the mean time the Princess and I lived
without suspecting any thing ofthe truth; Howbeit I remember, that one day it
came into my thought, that there was something extraordinary in Don Fernando; for
teaching me an ayr which I found to be extremely passionate, and of his own making, I demanded of him laughing, whether it were possible for him to speak
so of love, without being in love. He answered me thereunto, that he could
not, for that it was impossible for him to speak against his heart. But, said
I unto him, may not I be your confident, and may not I know the person
for whom you make such excellent things? You would no sooner be my confident, answered he, but you would be mine enemy, wherefore I will not tell you
anything, nor shall you know it but when I can no longer conceal it. I confess my
simplicity unto you, for my first apprehension being over, I believed that I had some
share in this discourse; and fearing I should be obliged to intreat the Princess to turn Don Fernando away, if he came to lose the  respect which he owed
me, I pressed him no further, contenting my self with being his scholer, and
not his confident. And I was so affraid to part with him, as I never spake of
this matter to the Princess, who past a good part of her time in seeing the Prince
of Salerno paint.In the mean space these two disguised Lovers finding no reason for them to discover themselves, were even in dispair with it. They saw the Princess every day more
firm in the resolution she had taken; for whereas they were dextrous and interessed,
they had so gained some of the Princesses Officers, as by them they knew all that
did pass, and all that had past. I have told you already, that the Princess imployed
a good part of the day in seeing him paint, this entertainment agreeing better with
her melancholy, than Musick; It was then impossible, but that, being good as she is,
the Prince of Salerno should often have occasion to talk with her; and in those incounters, she had found so much spirit and civility in him, as one day she pressed
him to let her know where he had led his life. And whereas he had taken a resolution, which you shall understand by and by, he answered her, that he had never had
any other Master but the Prince of Salerno, who was one of the most considerable,
both for his birth and riches, that was in all the Kingdom of Naples; that it had
been in his late fathers house where he had learn'd to know the fashions of the world
better, than ordinarily Painters do; and that not long before, through a mischance,
which he could not avoid, he was come away from the Prince of Salernoes service;
But, Madam, continued he, though I be from him, I cannot chuse but say, that his
inclinations are great; that he loves glory and vertue, for touching his wit, it is
not for me to judge of it. I mervail, said  the Princess unto him, if he be such as
you say, that you would leave him; for being great in birth, mighty in riches, and
so vertuous as you paint him forth to be, he must also without doubt be liberall, so
that I do not see any reason for your abandoning him. That is it,  Madam,
answered he, wherein I can not satisfie you; howsoever I can assure you, that next
to you, there is no body in the world whom I would serve with more affection. It
was in this sort that the Prince of Salerno began to give good impressions of himself
to the Princess, that he might prepare her the better to his desire; and divers times
the Princess and he had such like conversations. At length that Master of his horse,
whom he had sent to Naples, returned unto the Town disguised as he used to be,
and acquainted him, that he had left at Villa-franco, which as you know is near
hereunto, a vessell throughly furnished with all things, and an hundred well resolved
and affectionate soldiers in her. The Prince told him, that he would have him come





and present himself the next day at Monaco; and giving him a letter for the Princess, and another for his Governor, who was come thither whither he would or no, he gave him an express charge not to make any shew of knowing him, if so be his people should happen to be admitted into the Town. He sent him away then throughly instructed in all that he had to do. The day following, the vessell belonging to the Prince of Salerno (who that day found out the meanes to be near the Princess) presented it self for to enter into the port; but according to order, a barque having been sent unto it, and having understood what this vessell was, the Princess was presently advertised thereof, who continuing in her resolution, commanded, that the Prince of Salernoes messenger and his train onely should be admitted, and that withall they should come into the port in the same barque which had been sent forth to discover them. 
The business was executed as she had commanded it; the
Painter, the Musician, and my self, were at that time with her; and vvhereas she remembred that this Painter had told her, how he had belonged to the Prince of Salerno: You shall see now, said she unto him, that your old Master will draw you away from my service; if it should be so, continued she, what answer will you have
me make? That I will dy rather than abandon you, replyed he: But I do not think
it is his design, and knowing him as I do he will rather increase the number of
your servants, than rob you any. As he said thus, his people arrived, who, without making show of knowing him, saluted the Princess with agreat deal of respect, and the Prince of Salernoes old Governor delivered her a letter written to her
from his Master; she read it with blushing, and though I perceived a great deal of
unquietness in the Painters face, yet was I perswaded that only the interest which
he seemed to have in the Prince of Salerno, or the fear he was in left he should be
forced to quit the Princesses service, was the cause of it. After the reading of this
letter I knew by her discourse that it was a proposition of mariage, and a declaration of love. She said to the Princes Messenger, that his Master did her an honor
which she was unworthy of. And whereas this Governor would have inlarged himself upon the prayses ofhis Master, I know his vertue and his merit, replyed she,
and here you see one by me, said the Princess, shewing him the Prince of Salerno,
who hath drawn me his picture, and I doubt not but it is very like him, since I
can assure you that he is one of the best Painters of the world. This gallanterie gave
great hope to the Prince of Salerno, and filled the mind of Don Fernando with dispair. In the mean time the Princess told the Princes Messenger, that he should have
her answer the next day, and then commanded her Officers to have a care of him,
and to conduct him to the lodgings where strangers were entertained. They were
no sooner gone, but the Prince of Salerno making use of the liberty which the
Princesses goodness gave to all her servants when she was in private. I rightly foresavv, Madam, said he unto her, that the Prince of Salerno would not make me
change my Mistress. For my part, said Don Fernando interrupting him, and addressing his speech to the Princess, with an intention to use a trick for the destroying of the Prince of Salernoes designes (whom he did not imagine was so near
him) I think I should betray my duty, and be wanting to the fidelity which I owe
you, if seeing your happiness, or unhappiness concerned, I should not tell you, that
this this Prince of Salerno is nothing less than what you are told he is. Do you know
him, demanded the Painter o fhim with a great deal of coldness? I have seen him
an hundred times, replyed he, during three months space that I was at Naples; he
would have had me live with him, after I had taught him some Spanish Aires, but
having been acquainted with the fantasticallness of his humor, I would not serve
him. Besides, Madam, this Prince is neither rich, nor powerfull in his Country,
in such manner as one would make you believe; and I wonder how he should be
so hardy, as to extend his ambition so for as to you. Permit me. Madam, said the
Painter interrupting him, to clear my self of the doubt wherein I am, and to ask
of this enemy to the Prince of Salerno, whether he be young, or old, and in what
place they grew acquainted together? for as he talkes, I dare say he knows him
him not. He is young, answered Don Fernando, and that you may not think but that



I knovv him, I assure you that I found him the first time I savv him at Naples to have but a bad aspect, and to be very uncomely in his behavior. The suspition
vvhich I have vvill not end so soon, replyed the Painter, for if I had undertaken it,
I could let her excellency see, that he is not so unhandsom as you vvould make
him to be. The Princess, vvho had no interest in this dispute, nor apprehended
that vvhich the Painter said, as he meant it, interrupted him, for to demand vvhether he could dravv the picture of a person that vvas absent, and make it like him?
Never doubt of it, Madam, said he unto her. If you dravv that of the Prince of Salerno, said Dan Fernando, I am sure it vvill not resemble you, for indeed he is nothing so handsom. You do me too much honor, ansvvered the Painter coldly; but
to dravv me out ofthe doubt vvherein I am, tell me, vvho hath informed you that
the Prince of Salerno is so fantasticall? All his servants, replyed the other, vvho
complained exceedingly of it. I vvonder at that, said the Painter; but vvho hath
told you too, that he vvas not rich? All the people of Naples, ansvvered the other
vvho are well acquainted vvith the disorders of his House; and then again I perceived it well enough my self, for he gave me nothing for the paines I took in
teaching him to sing. It is not his custom to be so sparing, ansvvered the Painter;
But tell me yet, who served him at that time? This old Governor which you saw
but now, was he with him? What were his recreations? what was his delight? what
was his imployment? I think I did not see that man about him, answered Don Fernando, and for his Master, I found him so little worthy of esteem, that I did not observe him; howsoever I am very sure that he is not considerable at all, either in the
Court of Spain, or with the Vice-Roy. I see no likelyhoood, replyed the Painter,
for one to believe that the Emperor and the Vice-Roy haye entertained you with
these matters, whilst you were playing on the Violl. There is yet less, said the Musician, that they should tell you the contrary of that which I affirm, whilst you were
besmearing of walls. Ah! Madam, said the Painter interrupting him, permit me
to punish the lying and malice of this impostor, who dares traduce a man so insolently, whom certainly he does not know, and a Prince too, who cannot be absolutely without merit, since he is capable of the design to serve you; He hath been
my Master, and is now your servant, pardon me then is for your sake I lose the respect which is due unto you. Do not you fear, said the  Princess unto him, that
Don Fernandoes speeches shall ever hurt the Prince of Salerno; neither doubt you,
that this noble ardor which you show in maintaining his party shall displease
me, but contrarily I shall esteem of you the more for it; and I forbid Don Fernando from ever speaking of that Prince but with respect; but withall I charge you not to
remember what he hath said, and command both of you once more to live lovingly
together. The Painter wholly filled with hope, rendred thanks to the Princess; and
the Musician not able to doe othervvise, got him avvay assoon as the Princess
vvas entred into her Cabinet, vvith a purpose to ansvver the letter vvhich she had
received from the Prince of ;Salerno; Who being vvithdravvn in private, and reflecting on Don Fernandoes boldness in maintaining of a lie, and on all that had past
betwixt them, he no longer doubted but that he was a man of quality, vvhom, the
same reason vvhich had made him a Painter, had made a Musician. Coming then
to look on Don Fernando, as on his Rivall, he had an hundred times a mind to discover himself unto him, that he might oblige him to fight vvith him; but this first
sense of revenge and jealousie being over, he knevv it would mine his design; For
He considered, that if the Princess ansvver to him was favourable, he should have
time enough to be revenged; and if it vvere not, that then he should discover himself
to ill purpose, and deprive himself of the means of executing that vvhich he had premeditated; he resolved then to make a shevv, in case the Princess ansvver drigorously,
of having forgotten vvhat had past, vvith an intent to live very civilly vvith Don Fernando, to the end that conversing often with him, and observing al his actions, he
might not be prevented by him, Don Fernando on his side believed, after he had vvell
thought upon it, that this Painter had been sent by the Prince of Salerno to speak
well of him to the Princess before he declared himself, knowing well enough that




she permitted not the entrance of any person of quality into Monaco; and in this thought he purposed likewise to observe him very carefully. In the mean time, the Princess sent the next morning for the Prince of Salernoes messenger to receive his answer, where the Painter, and the Musician were also present, having thrust themselves amongst those which conducted this Messenger to her. The Princess, in giving him her letter, prayed him to assure his Master, that she should be eternally obliged to him for the honor he had done her; that she besought him to believe, that though she did not grant him that which he desired of her, yet could it not be tearmed a refusall, since she refused him nothing but what she could not grant him; that she owed that respect to the ashes of her father, as not to violate that faith which she had given by his commandment; and that being thus no longer her own, he was not to take it ill, if she assured him that she could never be his; that nothing resting in her power, but the esteem of him and his friendship, she assured him both of the one and the other, and of an acknowledgement that should last as long as her life. This obliging refusall asswaged not the Prince of Salernoes grief, who
himself heard his own sentence pronounced; nevertheless he had reason enough
left to use his uttermost indeavour to conceal it, for fear he should be suspected of
the Princess. As for Don Fernando, the joy which he testified for this adventure was
so great, as the Painter was the more confirmed in the opinion which he had. After
the Prince of Salernoes Messenger was gone, & that the Princess had given him a diamond of great value, and that she had commanded him to be conducted to the
Barque, vvhich vvas to carry him back to his Vessell, the Painter craved leave of
her that he might accompany him vvith the rest, for he durst not speak to him, said
he, unless it pleased her to permit him. You are discreet, said the Princess, and this
respect merits more than this which you demand of me. The Painter having obtained this permission, went and overtook his Governor, to salute him; this man,
who was instructed as he ought, used him like a Painter, and dexterously giving
him the commodity to talk with him, this Prince willed him to return unto Villa-
Franco, under pretext of mending something about his vessell, and to send the
Master of his Horse the next morning disguised unto him, with as much money as
as he could bring. Now you are to understand, that the day before he hapned
to meet and know an old Souldier, which sometime had born armes under his Father, and whose life he had saved, being at that time Sergeant of one of the Companies of the Garrison. The Prince of Salerno comeing to know him, found the
meanes to speak with him in private, and after he had given him three hundred
pistolets, he made himself known unto him. This man ravished to see the Son of his
old Master, but more yet with his liberality, testified after his manner, both his
acknowledgement, and his joy. In the mean time the Prince of Salerno, who had
not made himself known unto him only to inrich him, told him how he was to serve
him in a busines that concern'd all his happines. This man told him,that he was his
subject, and his obligee, so that consequently he might expect any thing from him.
Then the Prince asked him, whether he lived alone in his house, and having learnt
that he did, he asked of him further, whether he could not suborn a Fisher-man
with mony; this Souldier having answered him, that the poverty of those kind
of people did not permit him to doubt but that he should find out an hundred in
stead of one, he gave him wherewithall to gain him, without discovering any part
of his design unto him, assuring him only that this Fisher-man should be exposed
to no perill, nor have ought els to do, than to carry his nets: That which made
the Prince of Salerno do thus, was, for that he had observed how just at ten of the
clock in the forenoon the ordinary Guard still used to rise, and thereby had conceived, that they which saw a Fisher-man go forth laden with his nets about nine,
would not be there at five in the evening, and so consequently he might come in
again accompanied with two men attired like Fishermen, and laden with nets as
he was, without any notice taken of them. After he had reasoned thus with himself, he resolved to execute that which he had premeditated long before, judging
rightly by the answer which the Princess had given his Messenger, that nothing



but violence could put him in possession of her. This design being absolutely
concluded, he sought for the means to execute it. This Sergeant brought him a
Fisher-man into a place apart, whom he instructed with that which he would have
him to do; and the next day this man went out of the Town about eight of the
clock in the morning laden with nets, and (as I have already said) before the Guard
was risen; but when it was towards evening, he gave over fishing, and went to
meet with two Souldiers disguised like Fishermen, who came by Land from the
Prince of Salerno's Vessell, which was at Villa-Franco, and waited for him at a certain Rendezvouz which had been appointed him: Having shared his nets amongst
them, he re-entred into the Town, and incountring none of those souldiers at
the Gate which had seen him in the morning, no notice was taken of them, and so
they went along with him home; where they stayed till it was night, and then
these two men having left their nets there, were conducted by him to the Sergeants
house, in which they abode concealed untill the Prince of Salerno had need of
them. By this device there entred every day two souldiers into the Town, who
carryed two Pistolls and two short swords hidden in the nets, wherevvith they were
laden.  But whereas there vvas to be thirty days before the threescore souldiers
vvhich he had destined for his enterprize, could enter, he vvas in an extreme impatience; hovvbeit he concealed it so vvell, as vve could never perceive it. In the
mean time he had gotten him a ladder of cords, vvherevvith he purposed to bring
a dozen souldiers into the Castle thorough the vvindovvs ofhis chamber, vvhich opened upon a place vvhere no body usually passed, and where no body could trouble his design; for upon the disorder which had been between him and the Musician, they had been lodged assunder. For the rest of his Souldiers, he had resolved to send them under the conduct of the Master of his house, and that Sergeant,
to the gate of the Town, for to render themselves Masters of it, whilst he should
carry the Princess away by force, for which effect his Vessell was to be at the
Port. But whilst he attended for the entrance of all his souldiers, and that Don Fernando also attended the return of him from whom he hoped for succour in his
enterprize, they lived better together than ever they had done, and in shew they
loved one another extremely, though indeed they hated and observed one another as two enemies. As for Don Fernando, he had (during the design which he
kept close) fallen into a strict league of friendship with one ofthe principall Inhabitants of Monaco, whom the Princess had made Captain of the Gate. His first
admittance into this mans house, was to teach his only daughter to sing, afterwards his conversation grew so pleasing unto him, as he frequented thither very
often, and so they came to love one another exceedingly. Don Fernando, in the
thought which he was in, turned his eyes upon this Captain, and having heard
him say divers times, that the people began to murmur against the Princess, for
that it seemed she had resolved all her life-time to make a desert of Monaco, and
utterly to ruine the trade thereof, by the difficulty which there was of entring into
it, he resolved to confide in him, as he hid, after he had blinded him first with a
great sum of money, which he gave him. And that which made him not doubt but
that the Gentleman, whom he had sent, would bring him Troopes, was, because
he knew the Armies of Spain were very powerfull in Italy, and that if he could
once render himself Master of this place, she should not only be justified, but quickly succoured; the Councell of Spain never wanting pretexts to invade the territories of their Neighbors, when as they find occasion for it. During this expectation,
the Princess had had her unqu etness, as well as her Lovers; for that Lieutenant of
her Guard, whom she had sent to seek you, seemed too long to her in returning:
and whereas she had made it a secret, I was she alone to whom she complayned of it;
Nevertheless one of her women chancing upon a day to overhear somewhat confusedly what she said unto me, believed that you were suddenly to return, and her
joy was so great for it, as she told this false newes to all the Princes Officers, who
quickly acquainted the Painter and Musician with it, never dreaming that they
would be otherwise concerned in it than to rejoyce at it as they cid. Howbeit this




newes wrought other effect, for thereupon both the one and the other of them hastened the finishing of the designs they had in hand. They wondred notwithstanding to see that that which it seemed should have made the Princess glad, should render her so melancholy, as she would scarce see the Prince of Salerno paint any more, nor hear Don Fernando sing any longer: But I found a meanes to make her change her resolution; for calling to mind two songs, which you had made for the Princess, I got Don Fernando to learn them; and that he might take more care in singing of them, I told him whose they were, and for whom they were made, for fear his negligence should cause the Princess to hate him. I marked well that he blushed when I propounded this unto him; but whereas I have alwaies been ingenious in finding out reasons to deceive my self, I was yet more in this occasion; and believed that onely the spight of being obliged to sing the Airs which he himself had not made, was the cause of his choler, and in this error I 
continued even unto the end. For when he had learned these Aires, after they had
been repeated unto him above twenty times, yet did he not sing them very well:
Nevertheless the Princess would hear no other thing, howsoever I intreated her
to the contrary; so that Don Fernando was thereby recuced to that point, as he could
not see the Princess unless he would sing his Rivalls songs: Which he did with so
much constraint, as he made me to laugh at him; For still I was perswaded that he
did it out of caprichiousness and pride, though indeed it was out of jealousie.
As for the Prince of Salerno, another adventure befell him. When as there lacked
but two dayes of the time wherein all his Souldiers were to come in, the Princess
remembred how she had heard him say, that he could draw the picture of one that
was absent, that should be like him, and thereupon believed that by the instructions
which she could give him he might peradventure draw a picture that would resemble you, though he had never seen you. She propoundes the matter unto him,
assures him that he shall infinitely oblige her if he can do it; and though she told
him not precisely who she person was that she desired the picture of, yet he knew
that undoubtedly it was yours which she would have. At first he said, that he beleeved he could not do it; but after he had thought on it a little, I will endeavour,
Madam, said he unto her laughing, to content you, provided you will have the
goodness not to intreat me as an ordinary Painter, and that you will acknowledge
unto me, after you have seen it, that it is the picture of the man, who of all the
world honors you with most respect, and loves you with most passion. You know
too much for a Painter, said the Princess unto him blushing, howsoever I vvill
pardon you this boldness, and vvill acknovvledge that unto you vvhich you say,
provided you presently go in hand vvith your vvork. The Painter having for ansvver made a love obeisance, vvent to fetch a cloth and colours for him to vvork
in her chamber. When he vvas arrived there the Princess vvould have had a great
glass taken away, vvhich hung right opposite to the place vvhere he had seated
himself, for fear the Sun vvhich gave full upon it, should mar it; But he prayed her
that it might not be removed, because as he said, it served to ease his sight. The
Princess then began to describe you as you are, and particularising unto him all
the features of your face as vvell as possibly she could, she thought she had instructed him sufficiently. Whereupon he began to design this picture, and pausing at every draught that he made, as it vvere to recollect his memory, at length he traced
out all the rest. And after the Princess had caused him to alter something, she profest that it vvas very near to the same vvhich she desired; but for fear he had forgotten vvhat she had already told him, she represented unto him again the colour
of your hair, of your eyes, and of your complexion. Then he took his palet, and
his pencills, and tricked the picture, vvhich certainly resembled you a little, but
less than vvhen it vvas only traced out vvith the cole. The Princess mervelled hereat; and knevv not vvhereunto she might attribute the cause of it; for considering
every feature in particular, she savv that little lacked but they vvere just as she had
figured them, and yet for all that the vvhole put together scarce resembled you at
all. But the Painter nothing abashed at it, told her that it vvas but a tricking, and



past his vvord unto her, that the first time he should touch it he vvould bring it to
that pass, as it vvould be impossible for her not to knovv in this picture the most
faithfull of her Lovers. The day following the Painter came again, into the Princesses chamber by her order, and seated himself in the same place vvhere he sate before. The Princess instrusted him again, and he making shovv of hearkning very attentively unto her, beheld himself in that glass which hung before him; but the more
he vvrought, the less did this picture resemble you, though she could not vvell say
vvhere the fault of it vvas. She made him touch the eyes again, alter something about the mouth, and so of all the other features; aud though he seemed exactly to
obey her, yet kept he still from the Princess design. And this shadow of Justiniano
which appeared in this picture was defaced at every stroak that he gave, although
he seemed to use his uttermost indeavour carefully to follow the Princes directions. And when she testifyed to the Painter the unquietness she was in for it, he told
her, that to judge well of a picture, one was not to look upon it whilst it was a
doing, and to discern the faults the better of that which he was about, she was to
let him work an hower upon it without looking on him. The Princess believed
him, and taking me away with her to the other end of the chamber, we left him
alone; but we were much amazed, when he had advertised us that his work was
done, and that he had brought it into the light for us to judge the better of it,
to see that it was his own picture which he had drawen, and not yours. The
Princess then perceived plainly, that this was not a matter of chance, and in an instant calling to mind so many things, as she had seen without thinking of them,
she made no doubt but that there was somewhat, which was mysterious enough in
this adventure; Yet had she sufficient constancy of mind not to shew all her amazement, and to take from the Painter the meanes of discovering himself further; I
well foresaw, said she unto him with a seeming simplicity, that this glass would
make you spoyl your work; And I am very sorry, continued she, going towards
her Cabinet, that you have lost your time, and I too. If this picture, said the Prince
of Salerno, in following her two or three steps, does not resemble the most passionate
of your Lovers, I with all my heart renounce the profession which I make. Take heed,
answerd the Princess, that my anger becomes not as strong, as your presumption is
great. Madam, said he unto her, retayning her by the Gown, I am not so faulty as I
seem to be, and to justifie my self in some sort to you, I must tell you, that I have no
other design in drawing this picture, than to let you see that the Prince of Salerno is
not so ugly as Don Fernando hath described him unto you; For by a strange chance, I
resemble him so near, as I might well be taken for him: And that I may not conceal
all the truth from you, continued he, I will confess to you, that it is by his consent
that I am here at Monaco, that it is to speak to you of his affection, that thus I cast my
self at your feet, most humbly intreating you to believe, that no man ever adored you
with more respect. Answer then, Madam, I beseech you, but not with fury, to the end
that that faithfull Lover may shew himself to you. Under what form soever the
Prince of Salerno may present himself, he shal alwaies receive the same entertainment
from me; my resolutions do not easily change, and should he lay all the Crownes of
the world at my feet, yet should I refuse him as now I do; But as for you, said she unto
him, I shall know how to use you as you ought to be, and I am very much deceived
if you talk to me long of loves. After this the Princess retyred without attending
his answer. For my part, I profess unto you that I was so astonished at this adventure, as I could not speak. Howsoever I followed the Princess into her Cabinet,
and respect obliged the Prince of Salerno to go out of her chamber, conceiving
rightly by the manner wherewith he vvas ansvvered, that his perswasions would
obtain nothing. That which made him carry himself thus, and to use this dangerous gallantery, was, that being upon the point of executing his design, he would
have been glad to have found an occasion to see, whether he could not by fair
meanes have prevailed with the Princess, without having recourse unto violence;
and whereas his men were ready for the action, he feared not the hazarding of
the matter; and then again the love which he bore to the Princess was so strong,




as he was resolved to perish, or possess her. In the mean time the Princess and I knew not what to think, nor what to resolve; and she demanding my advice about it, I knew not what to answer her. What think you of it, Æmilia, said she unto me? This Painter, hath he lost his respect, or his reason? Is he an imposter, or a Prince? For my part, Madam, said I unto her, I cannot tell what to say to you of it; he hath had patience enough for a Pince, in the abode that he hath made here, and in the disputes which he hath had with Don Fernando; But is must be acknowledged also that he hath too much wit, and too much boldness for a Painter. Whatsoever he is, said the Princess, he shall not stay in Monaco. Madam, said I unto her, I am even of your mind, Prince or Painter, Lover or Enemy, it is fit he should be gone; But if by chance he be the latter, it should be done without ill-intreating him, for truly the loving you is no such great crime: And if it be the Prince of Salerno, he is more unhappy than faulty, and more worthy of your pitty than of your indignation. I am of a contrary opinion, said the Princess unto me, for if he be a Prince I look
upon him as a dreadfull enemy; But if he be a senseless Painter, he is unworthy of my anger, and his folly may beget compassion in me.
We reasoned in this manner all the evening, without being able to judge certainly
whether this Painter were the Prince of Salerno, or some one of his servants
whom he had sent to be about the Princess, howbeit we believed him to be rather
the first than the other: And after we had examined the matter, it was resolved
that this Painter should the next day be turned out of Monaco, without letting him
know that he was suspected to be a Prince, and also without any other ill usage,
than banishing him. With this intention the Princess went to bed, and would have
me lye with her that night, it being impossible for her, as she said, to have any hope
of sleeping, as long as you should have a Rivall in Monaco. Whilst the Princess and
I were agitating in this sort, the Prince of Salerno, who had found that all his hope
consisted wholly in force, resolved to defer his design no longer, and to execute it
the night ensuing; he went then to seek out that Sergeant with whom he held intelligence, and to speak with the Master of his horse, to the end his vessell might
not fail to be at the Port just at the hower which he had appointed, and that he
should deal in such sort, as all might be ready against need should be. He gave them
the time and the signall ofthe enterprise, and thinking that he had well disposed
of every thing, he retyred into the Castle as he used to do, taking but two pistolls
and a sword along with him, which he caryed secretly into his chamber, in case
any violence should be offered him before his design could be executed. If the
Prince of Salerno was busied, no less was Don Fernando; For he had understood some
dayes before, by the return of him whom he had sent into the Milanese, that according to his, and the Marquis of Guasts directions, he had brought him store of
mony and jewells, together with five hundred men, which were come thither not
in a body, but two and two in a company, and so were lodged in all the Villages
about Monaco, with express order to render themselves all upon a certain night,
whereof they should be advertised, within a mile of the Town; So that Don Fernando stayd for nothing but the return of the Captain of the Gate, who was gone
to Genoua, and whose faith he had corrupted. This man, for our ill fortune, or to
say better for our good fortune, came back as he desired, so that the next morning,
which was the very same day wherein this Painter finished the picture that resembled you so ill, he went and found him out, and having given him to the valew of ten thousand crownes in jewells, he confirmed him by this liberality in the
design he had undertaken. But not to prolong my discourse, it sufficeth that I tell
you, how after he had discovered himself to this man to be that he was a good
while before; after he had perswaded him,that the retiredness wherein the Princess
lived, would in the end undo Monaco; because, said he, it was impossible, having
no Prince to defend it, but that some one or other would seize upon it; after he
had told him, that this place was too important, for to be left undefended under
the Government of a mayd; and that seeing it was to pass into the hands of
strangers, he was to desire that it might fall into the power of a man, who would




be obliged to him for it, and that was able to make his fortune. After all these 
things, I say, this man charmed with the present benefit, with the hope of what
was to come, and believing too that it would be somewhat advantagious for the
Princess, he promised Don Fernando, who communicated his whole design unto
him, to deliver him the Gate whensoever he pleased .Hereupon he sent that Gentleman, which belonged unto him, to carry his directions to all the severall places
where his souldiers were, to the end they should precisely meet together within a
mile of Monaco an hour after midnight, and that they should repair to the gate of
the Town as soon as they could see a flaming Torch on a Tower. The strangeness
of this incounter was, that the very same night wherein the Prince of Salerno was
to execute his design, Don Fernando resolved, without knowing ought of his Rivalls
affairs, no longer to defer his interprize, purposing to die, or to render himself
Master of the Town, and possessor of the Princess: so that whilst we were all the
afternoon seeing the Prince of Salerno paint, he had been taking order for all things
as well as the Captain of the Gate. Their designs being in these terms. You make
me tremble with astonishment, said Justiniano, interrupting Æmilia. You will have
yet more, continued she, when I shall tell you, that just about two hours after midnight, which by an extraordinary chance proved to be the very point, both of the
Prince of Salerno's and Don Fernando's enterprize; that first having caused twelve
souldiers to enter thorough the window of his chamber with the help of a lader
of cords, and commanded the Sergeant to go and seize upon the Gate of the town
that he might forcibly carry away the Princess in his Vessell, which was to be at the
Port at the same hour, we heard the outward chamber-door broke open; whereupon
the Princess gave a great skrike, and vvithout standing to knovv vvhat the matter
should be, the first thing that came into her thought vvas to put on her clothes, to
the end she might not be found in bed, vvherein I helped her vvith all the speed
that possibly I could. In the mean time her vvomen cryed out at the vvindovves,
but the Princesses Officers lay in a quarter so far of, because she never feared any
thing from the Tovvns side, and the Prince of Salerno's execution was so sudden,
as scarcely had the Princess gotten on a Night-gown vvith much hast, but he entred
into her chamber followed by ten souldiers, having left two at the Castle-gate, who
had stabbed the Porter upon his awaking. I leave you to think what the Princess
became in this occasion, when as maugre her resistance and mine, maugre her tears,
and maugre her cryes, she saw her self carryed away forcibly, by these souldiers,
and led out of the Castle. I can indure no more, said Justiniano, with as much
grief, and almost as much choler as if he had seen his Mistress carryed away by
force. Have patience, said Æmilia, for yet you do not see all our Enemies. When
as the Prince of Salerno had forcibly carryed away the Princess, I followed her all
in tears, and catching fast hold of one of the corners of her gown, we went in this
sort even to the Gate of the Town, neither the Princess nor I having the power to
cry out, so much were we seized with fear, and our judgements troubled.
The Prince of Salerno found not the matter so easie as he had believed it; for the
Sergeant, who had gotten the Ward, and that was to make use of it for the surprizing of the Court of Guard, and cutting them in pieces, arrived just at the
gate, as the Captain that served Don Fernando, was delivering it up to his men, who
were come thither under the conduct of the Gentleman which belonged unto
him, after they had seen the Signall on the Tower. And whereas he had order to
dye, or to render himself Master of it, what resistance soever he met withall, he
had already begun a sharp and bloody fight, when as the Prince of Salerno, and
those that kept the Princess, arrived at that place. And being a Prince of a great
courage, after he had commanded his ten souldiers to look well to the Princess, he went with his sword in his hand to see what the matter was. Never was there any
thing more dreadfull than that same night; Don Fernando, who lay not in the Castle that night, who was ready at the gate to receive in his men, and who was in
the head of them, when as the Sergeant arrived there, thought he was discovered,
and so did likewise the Captain of the gate; the Prince of Salerno incountring so



great a number of Enemyes, could not tell what to imagine; and the darkness of the night augmenting this disorder yet more, there was one of the greatest conflicts that hath been seen; for in this confusion they killed on both sides without knowing one another. In the mean time the alarum being taken up throughout the whole Town, and the bruit spread abroad that the Princess was forcibly carried away, all the Troops repaired to the place of armes, and all the people put themselves into a posture of succouring us. And whereas it was easie to discern on which side the Enemies were, the Prince of Salerno saw himself quickly inclosed both without and within; but first he came twice or thrice to the place where his Souldiers guarded us, to see in what estate the Princess was. And 
when he perceived by the abundance of people, which came running from all
parts, that it would be impossible for him to finish his enterprize, he came once
more unto her. I will dye, Madam, said he unto her, seeing I cannot possess
you; But first know, for the rendring of my memory the less odious unto you,
that after I have sought to carry you away, I goe now to fight for to keep you
from being carryed away by Don Fernando, and the Prince of Salerno being unable to live for you, will dye at leastwise in defending you. This discourse
surprising the Princess; What said she, have we more Enemies than one? This while the Prince of Salerno, who notwithstanding the darkness of the night,
having observed that Don Fernando was in the Head of the Troopes which he
sought withall, called him so often by his name, that at length they met together, and entred so suriously into a particular combat, as losing the care of
their men, it was the easier for them of the Garrison, and the people, who were
all up in amies, to defeat them. The treacherous Captain laboured in vain to
put Don Fernandoes people into order; and the Prince of Salernoes Master of
his Horse, and the Sergeant, whom he made use of, opposed themselves also
in vain to the disorder of theirs. The confusion increased with the number; The
Princesses Troopes augmented still; those of the Enemies diminished every
moment; And whereas her voyce was heard at last by some of her servants notwithstanding the fearfull noise that was made, they which guarded us having marked it, and seeing above an hundred men come from divers parts upon them, they abandoned us after some small resistance, and that they had
shewed a great deal of care of not exposing the Princess to any danger, as the
Prince had expresly charged them. They had no sooner left us the liberty which
they had taken from us, but the Princess, seeing herself in the hands of her own
People, got into the nearest house, and appointing Souldiers for the guard of
it, she commanded they should send her word how things stood, and that
if it were possible they should not kill the two Heads ofthe Enemies forces. In
the mean time the Prince of Salernoes Souldiers, which had abandoned the Princess, went amidst the press to seek out their Master for to  advertise him of
it, and having by chance found him still in fight with Don Fernando, they told
him confusedly that the Princess was carryed away. This discourse equally surprised them both. The Prince of Salerno beleeved that Don Fernandoes men had done
it, who on the other side knew not what to think of it: At the same instant so great
throng of people pressed in amongst them, as they lost one another in the croud; and each of them seeking to be cleared in this matter, they got out of the Town spight of the obstacles which they met with at the Gate, whereof the three parties had been Masters more than once. I cannot repeat all this sight unto you; but at length the Princesses people fought with such courage, as they killed very near all the Prince of Salernoes and Don Fernandoes Souldiers. And when it appeared that there were no more enemyes in the Town, they shut up the Gate; Part of the Garrison and of the inhabitants, having in the mean time pursued and made an end of defeating them, returning into Monaco. Hereupon the Prince of Salerno having certainly understood, that the Princess had not been carried away by Don Fernando (for we learnt so much by certain Souldiers) and seeing that he was hurt, that it was impossible for him to do more, and that he had lost his Rivall in the press, he resol-




ved to get to his Vessell. As for Don Fernando he found himself yet a stranger
condition, all his Souldiers having been well neer slain, or fled away whilst he was
fighting with the Prince of Salerno, he beheld himself almost alone, covered
over with wounds, and not knowing what to do, having no Vessell to facilitate his flight by Sea, nor any security on Land for him, with so little company. It is credible, considering what I have said, that seeing himself in that estate, and perceiving that the Prince 
of Salerno, followed by some of his men, made towards the port,
he with his Souldiers mingled amongst them, and entred into his Vessell with him;
the darkness of the night favouring the design, which doubtless he had to kill
the Prince of Salerno, and to make himself master of his Vessell. For when the day
began to break there was a great noise heard on the Port side, which made every
one to get up on the walls for to see what the matter was. The Princess and I went
up to the top of the lodgings where we were, which looked upon the Sea, and
whereas it was grown very light, we saw a Vessell, that was making from the Port
and on the hatches a great number of men fighting together, whereof some tumbled
alive into the Sea, and others fell down dead at their enemies feet. In the midst of
this diforder we knew the Prince of Salerno and Don Fernando by their apparell, who
combated with such violence, as moved the Princess to compassion, but at length,
the Vessell stiil getting further of, we saw that after a long combat these two Rivalls
remained fighting almost alone, and presently after both of them tumble down upon the hatches; and so on an instant the Vessel vanishing, we could no longer discern those two couragious Lover, who more happy in this sad adventure, than they
were aware of, made the Princess shed teares of pitty; but she shed them abundantly, when as in her return unto the Castle she beheld so great a number of dead bodies
as the strcets were even covered with them. The Prince of Salernoes Master of his
horse was found living still, as well as he whom Don Fernando had sent into the
Milanese; and it was by their meanes that we came to learn the particularities of this
History, which without them I could not have told you; for the Princess understanding who they were, caused them to be very carefully looked unto, that she might
learn that which I have related. The Captain ofthe Gate, and the traiterous Sergeant were found amongst the number of the dead, and as if the Prince of Salernoes Master of his horse, and Don Fernandoes Agent, had prolonged their lives but
only to tell the Princess what she desired to know, they dyed within a few dayes of
their hurts. As for their Masters we heard afterward, that being fallen dovvn as it
were dead, in the manner as I have told you, the remainder of the Prince of Salernoes
men having made an end of killing those which had followed Don Fernando de Mendoza; and believing their Master to be dead, three or four of them took up
the body of Don Fernando for to cast it into the Sea, when as the Prince of Salerno
coming out ofhis svvoon, and seeing what they were going to do, recovered so
much strength as to forbid them from it; generosity being greater in him than hatred, or revenge. This commandement of the Prince vvas executed, and that
too of seeing vvhether he had any life remaining in him; and vvhen it vvas reported
unto him that he still breathed, he charged them to have as much care of him as
of himself; as, indeed he vvas looked unto and treated in the same manner. I vvil not
declare the conversations of these tvvo Rivall unto you, but in brief it suffice to let
you know, that the Prince of Salernoes generosity so nearly touched the heart of Don Fernando, as he ceased to hate him, and would needs land with him at Naples to be
throughly cured there. And as if on the healing of their wounds that of their minds
had depended, they surmounted the love which they bare to the Princess, the first out
of reason, and the other out of his pride. And each of them following his own sense,
they sent to the Princess, & wrote unto her, the last with rhodomontades, according
to the humor of his Nation, and the other with a great deal of civility; beseeching
her to remember that she had promised her friendship to the Prince of Salerno, and praying her also to attribute all that had past to the passion of the Painter Lucilio, and not to him, who vowed alwaies to seek occasions to serve her, and to
publish every where, that she was the admirablest creature on the whole earth.




The Princess answered with much discretion both to the one and to the other; and in this sort ended the adventure which she would not recount unto you, and which possessed me with so much fear, that though it be now three months since it hapned, I am not yet well recovered of it. Justiniano thanked Æmilia for the paines she had taken, commended her wit and her address; and after he had ended this complement, he saw the Princess come out of her Cabinet, who having heard Justiniano talk, judged rightly that Æmilia had finished her relation. This faithfull Lover no sooner saw her, but he complayned for that she would have concealed an adventure from him, where things had past, which heaped glory and confusion on him; how it was almost as much as to say, that she repented the having of too advantagious thoughts for him, in that she would not have let him have known them; but she answered him very obligingly, that the remembrance of others misfortunes alwaies touched her so sensibly, when as she esteemed herself the cause of them, as she thought she should render herself guilty of those of the Prince of Salerno and Don Fernando de Mendoza, if she should hear them without grief, and that having desired to avoyd all occasions that might bring her to a sense of sadness, in a time when she had the pleasure to see him, she had withdrawn herself. In this sort is was that Isabella entertained Justiniano, who ordered the conversation so dextrously, as he bad the Princess good night, without her pressing him to acquaint her vvith the end of his History.IBRAHIM: OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The second part.The fourth Book.WHEN as Justiniano was retired to his lodging, and that he had
commanded his servants to leave him alone, after they had
got him to bed, his imagination represented unto him more
lively, than ever it had done before, the inconsideration of his
voyage; the promise he had made to Soliman to return unto
him; the necessity, either of breaking his word with a prince
who had so much obliged him, or to quit his Mistress: Alas!
said she, how unhappy am I, and how imprudent have I been?
what shall I do in so deplorable an estate? What shall I say to the Princess? Wherefore came I to Monaco? Had I the design to betray her, in coming to marry her,
and then to steal away from her the very next day? Or have I past my word for to
falsifie it? No, no, that was not my design; I desired to see Isabella, my love carried me unto it, and doubtless it ought to carry me unto it; and were I to dispose
of my self again, I should still do the same thing. And could I, said he alowd, refuse to see Isabella? Then turning himself about with precipitation, he recommenced his complaints. What, continued he, did I come to the Princess, only to acquaint her that I was Grand Visier; that I was the chief of all the Orient; that I
was the Favorite of a great Prince; and afterwards to abandon her to grief and
dispair, and so return again to enjoy all those greatnesses? Ah no, Justiniano is not
base; he will not quit a Princess, who is not unhappy but for the love of
him; he will not sacrifise her so cruelly to the pleasure of a Prince, who
may find men enough in his Empire, that will take the place which he held
there; For in fine, if Soliman loves us, this princess loves us too; and
if I have friendship for this Prince, I have love for Isabella. Let us not
balance the matter any longer, let us injoy the good we have, and let us not
destroy our selves: Whereupon he thought that he had found some rest, but on a sudden a sense of honor comming again into his minde, he went on passionately; Why, thou base man (said he) canst thou resolve to cover thy self with insaniy? to break thy word with one of the mightiest Princes of the world, and
that hath the most sensibly obliged thee? And doest thou believe that this generous Princess whom thou servest, would think thee worthy of her affection after
this baseness? Thou deceivest thy self Justiniano, and with her own mouth shehath
pronounced thy sentence: That which she hath said of this Prince, the praises
which she hath given him, makes me know but too well that she could not esteem one that should betray him. But, continued he, if in this occasion honor should give place unto love, yet wouldst thou not find thy self at rest, since this love well considered, will in this incounter have the same thing which honor requires:



Seest thou not (wretch as thou art) that this Prince whom thou wouldst betray, is the most rigorous observer of his word that is in the world? and that if thou shouldst fail in that which thou hast given him, he is capable of coming with an Army of an hundred thousand men, not onely to undo thy Countrey, but thy Mistress her self, as the cause of thy fault: Save her then from this mischief, sacrifice thy self for her, and follow the Fate which will have thee always unhappy. But wilt thou also deprive thy self for ever (said he further) of the sight of Isabella? of the hope of thy possessing her, which is to say, of all thy felicity, to render thy self the most infortunate, and the most desperate amongst men? Yes, I must resolve for it, and withall resolve to dye. Have courage enough then, continued he, not to hide a thing from her which thou canst not conceal without baseness; speak then, wretched man: but how darest thou tell her that thou art a Slave, that thou wilt abandon her, and that thou preferrest thy word before thy love? No, that may not be, thou cast not consent unto it, and death hath something sweeter than this wofull speech. But again, added he further, wilt thou consent to the undoing of Isabella? and thou that canst not resolve to betray Soliman, wilt thou betray this Princess, by disguising the truth unto her? Wilt thou be so inconsiderate, as to let her mary a Slave:
Ah, this thought is too unjust! No, no, be far
from so bad a design, do only that which thou oughtest to do, and leave the rest unto fortune: let her intreat thee ill, let her persecute thee, let her pursue thee every
where, it imports not, so as thou dost nothing contrary to that which thou owest
to Isabella. It was in this manner that Justiniano agitated in his mind so difficult
a thing to resolve on; and honor and love tyrannized him so cruelly, as his reason was almost lost therewith. But at length, after he had past the greatest part of
the night without sleeping, he generously resolved to speak plainly to the Princess,
and in this design prest with weariness and thought, sleep surprized him whether
he would or no, or to say better, a dull and melancholy vapor brought a senselesness upon him, which yet could not keep his imagination from representing still
unto him the deplorable condition wherein he was. Day being come, he found
himself so altered, as one would hardly have beleeved, that the miseries of the mind
could in so little a time have brought such a notable change to the face. As soon
as the Princess was in an estate to be seen, she sent him a complement to advertise
him of it, whereupon he came straightway to her Cabinet, but with a countenance
so pale, and eyes wherein grief was so visible, as Isabella was surprised with it; But
whereas she did not believe that he had any cause to be afflicted, she thought he was
sick, told him that he should not have come out of his lodging in the case he was
in, asked him what he ailed? whether he had a feaver? whether it were still on him?
and finally propounded very many questions unto him, whereto Justiniano answered not a word. For upon the point of executing that which he had resolved he
felt so extraordinarie a trouble in his mind, as he suddenly past from paleness to
redness; he was taken at first with an universall shivering which made him to tremble, and then with so great a burning, that he seemed all on fire. The Princess seeing him in this case, conjured him again with more earnestness to acquaint her
with the cause of all these alterations in him, that they might labor to give some
remedy unto it. Alas! Madam, (saidhe unto her with somewhat a low voice, that
he might not be heard by one of the Princesses women, who was at the other end
of the Cabinet) the knowledge which I shall give you of my disease will not make
you find a remedy for it; for it is of a nature not to be cured, but by death. Yet
if I should suffer it my self alone, I would not complain of it; but I am afraid that
it would be contagious for you; that the knowledge which you should have of it
would increase my grief by causing yours; that I should be more infortunate in
your person, than in mine own; and that in conclusion you would be yet more to
be lamented than I, who deserves the miseries which oppress me, since I am the
cause of all yours. The Princess judging rightly by this discourse, that there
was some great matter to be known, commanded her woman that was still in the
Cabinet, to go and stand at the door for to keep any from coming to interrupt her.



This order given, she turned back to Justiniano, and scarce knowing what to say, or
what to demand in so unexpected an occasion, she beheld him a while without
speaking, neither durst he likewise open his lips; but after she had recollected her
spirits, and knew that it concerned not the sickness of the body, having a great
and generous soul, she said unto him with a firm and assured voice; What mark
have you had, my dear Justiniano, of my little affection, or of my weakness, that
you fear so much to give me a part in your griefs? No, no, cast off this fear, and
permit me to tell you, before you acquaint me with that which I can neither divine, nor comprehend, that besides the loss of your affection, there is no misfortune wherein I shall not receive some comfort, partaking it with you. Ah! Madam,
said Justiniano interrupting her, cease to be unjust in being too good to me, and believe that when you shall know the point where at this present we are, you will
finde that I have reason to be greatly troubled in resolving to acquaint you with it.
Why, said the Princess, exceedingly impatient, concerns it life, liberty, or honor?
if it be the first, provided I may die before you, I have felt sorrows sharper than
death; if it be the second, and that I may be a slave with you, I will accustom my
self to wear irons; but if it concerns honor, I confess that we have reason to despair,
and that to conserve it, any thing is to be done: you see, said she unto him, that I
am prepared for the greatest misfortunes, and for such as seem to be the furthest off
from me; hold me no longer then in pain, if it be true that I have any power over
you. Justiniano seeing he could not avoid it, went on with his History from the
point where he had left it, he recounted unto her his pains, his unquietness, and
his joys, when as he knew that she was not inconstant; that not knowing what els
to do, he had been constrained to acquaint Soliman with his whole life; and consequently, that the permission which he had obtained to come and see her was but for
six months only, having ingaged his word to that Prince to return unto him precisely within that time. Judge (after this, Madam, said he with sighs that well neer
suffocated him, and that scarcely suffered him to speak) whether my complaints
be not just, whether I am worthy of your favour, and whether death alone be not
the remedy which I can find for my miseries. For consider (I besecch you) the pitifull estate whereunto I am reduced; which way soever I turn me I see you still
infortunate, but unhappy and infortunate only for the love of me. Ah Madam!
if you knew how touching this object is, how sensible and grievous it is, you
would easily apprehend the evill that I suffer; it is so great, as there is no expression strong enough to represent it well: You have believed me to be dead, and I
have thought that you were inconstant; your vertue hath been tryed by a long absence, and my crime hath been punished with slavery; but when as fortune seemed
to be weary of persecuting us, when as your constancy was sufficiently known, and
when as my crime was punished enough, she made some truce with us: I knew that
you lived for me, and you were not ignorant that I always lived for you. I am
returned Madam, but must I repeat it once again? I am returned a Slave, fortune
hath but lengthened my chain, and not broken off my irons. You seem, Madam,
continued he, by your silence to tell me that I had done better for your rest, not to
have returned, and to have left you in the belief of my death, than to come for to
assure you that I do live, but that I do not live for you. I think, Madam, that reason
is on your side, but it is a reason which I cannot follow. My voyage is not an effect
of my reason, nor of my will; I never stuck at the taking of this resolution, I followed my sense and my love, and my passion so mightily blinded my reason, as my
soul abandoned it self wholly to joy. I no longer thought that I was to return again to Constantinople, but only that I was going to Monaco, that I should have the
pleasure to see you there, and that afterwards I could not be unhappy. In fine, Madam, I have not done that which I ought, but I have done that which I could not
choose but do. In the mean time I have no sooner seen you, but I have beheld you
as a good which I was to lose, and as a person which I have made unhappy. For
Madam, if I break my word with Soliman, I am an infamous creature, I shall put
your State and your Honor in danger; and if I abandon you, I am treacherous to



you, and cruell to my self; and to say all, I am so unhappy as death alone can succor me: But for all that Madam, it is you that must pronounce my sentence, and
dispose of my life. Justiniano then felt himself so prest with grief, as he could say
no more. The Princess, who had heard him with a great deal of attention, astonishment, and sorrow, was also a good while without answering him; agitating
in her self so difficult a thing to be resolved. She was then leaning with one arm
on a little table of ebony, looking on Justiniano, who durst not lift up his eyes for
fear of incountring those of the Princess, which were full of teares; But at length
this generous person, who had a great and noble soul, brak off her silence, and said
unto him with a constancy, which hath scarce any example; I confess, my dearest
Justiniano, that our miseries are so great, as I could not foresee them; and one had
need of a mind, that is firm indeed, not to be abandoned wholly to grief, in
an occasion where it is so hard to satisfie together, both honor and love: I confess,
continued she, that these two passions reign both at once in my heart; but I confess
also, that the last cannot be satisfied without the other; and that in conclusion, to
express my thought unto you, had I not found a meanes to satisfie them both, I
should die, and let you goe. For know, that I am too generous to suffer you to
testifie your love unto me in an unworthy way; and I am ravished to see you love
glory, as much as me. No,Justiniano, you must not break your word with a Prince,
who hath so much obliged you; for so should you be both ingratefull and perfidious; neither must you too abandon a Princess, who loves you so dearly; for so
should you be both cruell and unfaithfull; and if you love her perfectly, you can never doe it. I know full well, answered Justiniano with a deep sigh, that death alone
can acquit me of that which I ought to doe. That is not my meaning, replyed the
Princess, and to clear it unto you, you must return again to that generous Prince
who hath loved you so much; I am no less obliged to him than you, since I ow
your life unto him; and for this reason, together with that of honor, I will not
hinder you from it: but withall you must permit me to follow you. Oh! Madam, said
Justiniano, do you think well of that you say? yes, answered she, I have thought
well upon it, and am resolved for it. But whereas love can never vanquish honor in my soul, I will not follow you as a vagabond, and forsaken one, you shall
mary me here, and that done, I will follow your fortune over all the
earth. You have told me already, that Soliman permits you the exercise of your Religion, I may enjoy the same grace, either as passing for your slave, or for your vvife.
And then again, I have not forgoteen that you have told me, how this Prince hath
made you hope, that if he could support your absence during the time of the six
monthes which he hath given you, he would grant you your full liberty: Let us go
then, my dear Justiniano, and demand it of him with teares; Do not stain your glory, in breaking your word with so excellent a Prince; and offend not your love
in refusing a request which I make to you with so much earnestness. The generous
discourse of the Princess had wrought strangely on Justiniano, during the time that
she spake to him, though he left not harkening unto her; and this proposition gave
him a great deal of joy, though he meant not to accept of it. And as if it had been
a thing which he would deliberate of, he had in an instant passed over in his mind
all the reasons, which might either carry him to it, or keep him from it. The
first thoughts were without doubt a pure effect of that passionate instinct, which will not have one abondon the person beloved; but those that opposed them were alltogether an effect of a true love, of a clear-sighted reason, and of a secret jealousie. At first he considered the dangers whereunto so dear a person might be exposed, either by tempests, or by Pirates: but that which most troubled him, was, that knowing how Soliman had a soul as amorous, as ever Prince had any, and remembering withall, that he had been in passion for a picture which resembled Isabella a little, he believed already that this monarch was his Rivall; and by a moments reflection, he fortified his reason so well, as he had generosity enough to refuse a good, which was the uttermost term of his felicity. The Princess had no sooner given over speaking, but beholding her wieh a little more confidence than




before. Must you, Madam said he unto her, surmount me in love, as well as in
greatness of courage? No, it would not be just. Leave me the onely thing whereunto I can pretend, and possesse all the other vertues, wherein I can have no part. I must in this occasion, Madam, shew you, that Justiniano knowes how to love, and by the hardest tryall that can be desired of a Lover, I will make you see that
love considers nothing but you alone; that it is wholly disinteressed; that I regard
not my self; that in fine I am as perfect a Lover, as you are generous. But this tryall, ah how cruell it is! And how hard a matter it is to refuse that which one desires! Yet it must be, and nothing can distract me from it. To testifie my love unto
you then, Madam, at that height which speak I of, I must not accept of the offer you
make me; I must refuse to mary you; I must abandon you; I must deprive my self of all my felicity; I must fight with all my desires; I must destroy my self; and I must
become the most wretched of all men: Behold, Madam, all that I can, and all that
I ought to do for you; for to expose you to tempests, to the fury of Pyrats, and to
consent that you should mary a slave, is a sacrilegious thought, which would render
me the most criminall person in the world, and which shall never arrive unto me.
It would be enough indeed for fortune to make me feel my own miseries, during
so fatall a voyage, without inforcing me to resent those which should happen to
you. Let me depart then, Madam, or to to say better, let me dye. I will doe neither
the one, nor the other, said the Princess, and in this occasiou you shall not dispose
of your self. Nevertheless it is needfull that you should give me a publique act of
your will, before I can execute mine. Resist me not, Justiniano, unless you desire to
offend me; suffer me to follow yon with honor, and put me not in the condition
of increasing the number of those indiscreet ones, who many times have followed
their Lovers, without being their wives. Think of my glory, I conjure you; and
think too, that if you abandon me, I may peradventure be capable of forgetting it.
Do not expose me, I beseech you, to that perill, since it is greater for me, according
to my apprehensions, than the dreadfullest tempest that you can describe unto me.
And fear not I pray you, continued she, either shipwrack, or Pirats; if we perish
together, we shall dye almost without grief; if we be made slaves, you will help
me to bear my chaines; or if we be separated, the fury of those barbarians shall do
no more, than what you would now do. Cease, Madam, from adding to my sorrow, said Justiniano interrupting her, complain of my misfortune, but complain
not of me in this crnell adventure. When I parted from Constantiuople to come hither, I blindly followed my passion; but at this present. Madam, I will blindly
follow reason: She will not have you follow a wretch, and an infortunate man;
Do you not consider, how if it should happen that I should dye, in what an estate
you would remain? Ah! my dear Princess (if I may be permitted to call you
so) give over so wofull a design: Live in tranquility, whilst I go and combat my
evill fortune at Constantinople; with a promise, if I cannot overcome it, not to survive her victory very long. But it may be we shall not be so miserable; Soliman hath
a great and vertuous soul; that which I am going to doe may please him; he
may be moved with my teares and prayers; he may break that invisible chain
which tyes me unto him; and being no longer a slave, you might then without
shame accord me the honor, which now I refuse. This hope is too weak, said the
Princess, to make me change the resolution I have taken: No, Justiniano, to speak
to me thus, is not to love as you should; this is to blind me with an artifice, to
doubt of my affection and courage, and to say all, this is to offend me sensibly. My
teares shall not hinder yours from having their effect, but contrarily I am of a
sex accustomed to vanquish even cruelty it self with such like armes: Suffer me
then to share this victory with you, if you are to carry it; or that I may be vanquished with you, if you are to be so. You do not consider, Madam, said Justiniano,
that if Soliman should see you at Constantinople, it would be the meanes of newes
obtaining my liberty, because I should then have all there that could render me
happy. The Princess stood a whiles to answer so pressing a reason; But whereas her affection would not be surmounted; May I not follow you, replyed she, without





being known, and under the habit of a slave? No, Madam, you cannot, answered Justiniano; there is something that is so great and so dazeling in your face, as you could not conceal your self; But it is not for this reason alone, that I will not consent thereunto; I love you, Madam, and that is to say all: I will keep my word then with Soliman, since you do consent unto it, if it be true that I can absent my self from yon, without dying in dispair: and all the grace which I demand of you is, that you will not dispose of your self, untill my return, or the newes of my death, have made you shed teares, either of joy or of grief. Ah! cruell man, cryed the Princess, cease to outrage my affection! Madam, answered Justiniano, pardon a wretch, who not knowing how to hope is capable of fearing all things. Assure your self of my person, replyed the Princess, for to assure you of my constancie, and permit me to follow you in the manner that I have told you. I may not, too generous Princess, said Justiniano, my love and my reason will not suffer it. But sufficeth it not that I will have it so, replyed Isabella, for the obliging you to obey me? No, my Princess, it is not enough, answered Justiniano, and my misery is arrived to that point, that I must for the love of you oppose you; and I cannot acquit my self of all that I am owing to you, but in disobeying you. The Princess then found herself so seized with grief, as she remained a long time wtihout abilitie to speak: the use of her eyes was almost gone, and so was that of her teares too for the easing of herself; so much had the excess of her sorrow suspended all the functions of her life in her: She was negligently leaning on the table neer to which she sate, and without giving any sign of sense, save that of breathing, she was in an estate of moving to pitty even cruelty it self. Justiniano seeing her so, was affraid she would have swooned: He took her by the hand, and besought her to remember that great 
courage, which she had alwaies shewed against the persecutions of
fortune. It is not fortune that surmounts me, said she sighing, it is thy insensibility Ah! Madam, replyed he falling down on his knees before her, and wetting her
hand with his teares, wholly transported with love and grief, will you have me
render my self infamous, break my word, and not return to Constantinople? I am
ready to obey you. This couragious Princess did her uttermost then to take heart
again, and beholding him with eyes whence the first teares began to issue forth;
No, my Justiniano, I would not have that, said she unto him, but onely I would
have you promise me, that within the time you are to stay here, you will obtain
the resolution from your self to mary me, and to permit me to follow you; for in
conclusion I cannot consent, that we should be separated from one another but by
death alone. This last word was no sooner pronounced, but the Princess found hee
self very ill; she became pale and languishing; her eyes, that were so clear, so piercing, and so full of fire, grew dead and dull on a suddain; and gently closing themselves up, she fell backward on her chair, her head leaning on the left side, and
weakly reaching out her right hand to Justiniano, who was so surprised to see her
so changed in an instant, as he could not forbear crying out pretty lowd. But forcing herself to speak, she bid him with a low voyce, not to fear the end of an evill,
whereof the beginning was so violent, foreseeing well that fortune was not yet
weary of persecuting her. But Justiniano without answering her, opens the Cabinet
door, calls her women, who frighted to see her in that case advertise Æmilia of
it, and losing their respect in this sorrow, they demand of her all at once what she
ayles? What her disease is? and so busie themselves in succoring her, as they render her no service at all. But she being unwilling to give them leisure to inquire
into the cause ofher sickness, did her uttermost for to tell them in half opening her
eyes, that some days past she had indeed foreseen that she should be sick, and having neglected those little symptomes which she had concealed, she perceived very well that she was entering into a fit of a feaver, which was beginning upon her by this weakness that she felt. Justiniano admiring her wisdom and prudence, did what he
could to imitate her; and concealing a part of his grief, he perswaded her to goe
and lye down on her bed; but having not strength enough to sustain her self, they
carried her in the same chair wherein she sate to her chamber, whither her Phy-




sicians where already come, for being incountred by good hap in the Castle they
had been advertised of this accident by one of the Princesses women. They beheld
her, feel her pulse, ask her questions, to come to the  knowledge of her disease,
and not able to find out the cause of it, they testifie by their actions, and by their
unquietness, that not knowing it perfectly, they are troubled how to resolve on the
choice of the remedies that they would apply thereunto; At length they ordain
her to be laid in her bed, that still they might gain time to think of that which
they had to doe. Justiniano out of respect retired all in dispair, and without being
able so much as to reason about his misfortune, his sorrow became so strong, as he
felt it but confusedly. The Princess was not long in her weakness, and Nature doing her uttermost, gave her spirits the liberty again which grief had arested; But
thereupon, there was so great and suddain a revolution of all her humors, as she
fell into a violent feaver, so that the Physicians knowing then the Princess disease,
albeit they were ignorant of the cause of it, they began to treat her according to
the precepts of their Art. Justiniano was also desired by order from the Princess
to repair unto her; he obeyed, and came into her chamber, with a face wherein the
grief of the mind so nearly resembled that of the body, as he seemed to be sicker
than the Princess. He approches, every one withdrawes, and when the Physicians
told her, that after such an accident as this which had befallen her, it was fit she
should not speak much, she assured them that their conversation should not be long;
as indeed all that she said to Justiniano was, comfort your self for the love of me,
if you will have me live for the love of you, and be mindfull not to speak of our
misfortunes, no not to Doria himself if he comes hither. And whereas she saw that
Justiniano could not answer her without discovering his grief, she wrung him
gently by the hand, and calling Æmilia, she commanded her to have a care of
Justiniano, untill her sickness was abated. This infortunate Lover, not daring to
speak, for fear of augmenting the Princesses distemper, and making too much show
of his dispair, which she would not have him to do, retired away without saying
any more, than, Ah! Madam, if you will have me comfort my self, you must then recover of this sickness, which I have been the cause of. After that, the Princess
grew extremely worse and worse; the feaver held her ten daies with so much violence, and weakness together, as the Physicians durst not warrant her life: But it
was nothing in comparison of the eleventh day, for then Justiniano, who scarcely
had abandoned her all that time, absolutely beleeved that she was a dead body.
The feaver was very much increased, her strength diminished, the remedies unprofitable; Nature seemed to want power, and to be so oppressed, as it was impossible
to hope that she should escape. But in the midst of all those miseries, and in so
great an extremity, the constancy of the Princess was admirable; who, notwithstanding Æmiliaes teares, the cryes of her women, and Justinianoes dispair, who
was no longer in the termes to suffer himself to be constrained by reason, expressed
such a tranquillity of mind, as it might well be judged, that life was not very dear
unto her: Yet could she not for all that indure Justinianoes lookes, nor see his teares
trickle down his checkes without resentment, and besides that deplorable object,
she was insensible to all things. But whilst they were in these termes at Monaco,
there was nothing but rejoycing at Genoua, where it was not known that the Princess was so sick as she was; for from her first time of being ill, she had given in
charge that it should not be publhhed, to the end she might recover without molestation, or at leastwise dye quietly. It was onely then knowen at Genoua that she
was not well, but that kept them not, from meeting almost every day; according
to the order which the Marquis had established, either at the Counts, or at Doriaes, who after his return had taken an onely sister, that he had, to govern his house;
and who was associated with this fair Troop, which had no other thought but of
delighting themselves. The most considerable of this assembly, were the Count of
Lauagna; Leonora his wife; Horatio of the illustrious house of Cibo, the brother of
Leonora; Sophronia her sister ; Hipolita Doriaes sister; Alphonso Spinola; Leonardo the widdow of Livia, of the race of the Adornes; the French Marquis; and Doria; whose




love began to be somewhat violent for Sophronia, who certainly was very capable for begetting an ardent passion; she had not only a piercing and majestick beauty like her sister Leonora, but a noble stateliness, which rendred her least civilities so obliging, that one of her looks touched more sensibly, than the tenderest caresses of others: The beauties of her soul were no less considerable than those of her face; and the graces of her mind did not give place to all the other excellent qualities that she had; it is not to be wondered then, if Doria, who was a man of much vertue, and of much judgement, suffered himself to be touched with such powerfull charms. As for the Count, it might be said that he loved Leonora his wife dearly, but it may be said also, that he was truly in love with nothing but glory: His galantry, his civilities, and his liberality, were not terminated with the conquest of the good graces of one only Lady, but with the esteem of all the world. Horatio was of a less active humour, but for all that very pleasing, of a solid judgement,
of a gentle and complying spirit, and that notwithstanding some coldness that appeared in his countenance, had yet been a long time in a burning passion for the
fair Hippolita, whose jealous and distrustfull humor troubled him not a little. Alphonso
likewise had much spirit, and Leonida, whose beauty gave place to none of
the rest, added thereunto a gentileness and liveliness, which rendred her the entertainment of a company. There were many others besides which had also both
wit and beauty, so that the Marquis being joyned to so many excellent persons,
it might have been said, that this Assembly had been perfect indeed, had Justiniano and the Princess of Monaco been there. The next day after that the Count, Doria, 
and the Marquis were returned to Genoua, this illustrious company failed not to
meet at the Counts Palace; and whereas it was forbidden to speak in these occasions either of war, or of generall affairs; and that Verses, Painting, Musick, Love,
Vertue, and all other things that depend of an excellent wit, were those onely,
wherewith one might entertain himself in this encounter; the constancy of Isabella, the merit and love of Justiniano, made an overture to the conversation. The
beauty of the place also added something to the beauty of the Assembly; for the
more magnificence, and making of the better and more glorious show of their
jewells, those dayes wherein the women decked and set forth themselves all the
windows were shut up, and torches served to light the room, which this day Leonora
caused to be sumptuonsly furnished, because the company was to be more than ordinary. The hangings were of Carnation Velvet, imbroidered all over with tears and
spangles of gold and silver; the bed, chairs, and stools were of the same; and instead of a Persian Carpet, the floor was covered with a great piece of Gold, Silver,
and Carnation Silk tinsell. This chamber was lighted with thirty Candlesticks,
whereof the one half were of gilt Vermillion set with Stones, and the others of
Christall ingraven, and garnished with gold. Round about this Chamber hung
at an equall distance, great Plates of Gold-smiths work all set with precious stones,
and upon a Cabinet of Nacre and Corall, a great vase of Agate, and two baskets
of Gold ingraven full of artificiall Flowers. There were also between these Plates
great myrrors, with the Pictures of all the Ladies of the company; and the same
placed in such sort, as opposite to every myrror hung the Picture of a Lady, drawn
in the habit of a Nymph, or a Goddess. The beauty and magnificence of so many
agreeable objects, did without doubt excite some more than ordinary joy in all
the Assembly; and in so charming a place it had been very difficult for one not to
have been wounded with love, which presents not it self but in the middest of pleasures and delights: And indeed Doria was more powerfully touched therewith
than before; Horatio felt new flames for Hippolita; Alphonso began to look on Leonida without indifferencie; and the Marquis seeing never a woman in the company with whom he had not been already as much in love as was possible for him to
be, was constrained to conserve that still which he bare to Æmilia; yet was it not
for all that so strong in him, as to keep him from complaining of this adventure;
so that after they had spoken enough of Justiniano and Isabella, and that there was
a certain kind of silence amongst the whole Assembly, which gave way to every



one to begin some other discourse; I would never have believed, said he that being at Genoua in the middest of twenty of the fairest persons of all Italie, I should
be constrained to send my mind to Monaco, there to encounter my Mistress. It is
not, continued he, because it is an effect of Æmilia's charms, or of the change of
my humor; but it is because I seeing never a woman here, for whom I have not
already been in passion, I am inforced to conserve that for her still. And certainly
if I had thought I should have tarried so long at Genoua, I should have taken a better order for my affairs. I would have loved Hypolita a full moneth, Sophronia
as long, and so all the rest; by which rule I should have needed but twelve Mistresses
every year: But in the manner that I have carried my self I am utterly ruined.
For my part, said Leonida with her joviall huraour, I will forget if you will, that
ever you were in love with me, to the end, you may not give any occasion of sadness to our Assembly: and I assure you that if you could resolve to make a new
declaration of love unto me, I am deceived if you would not love me more the
second time than the first. I have known since, continued she, that I was to indulgent to you; I commended the first Verses that you made for me; I took too
much care in learning a song which you gave me; I danced better with you than
with all others, and I know not any testimony of esteem and good will which I
did not render you; in the mean time you quitted me cruelly, to love the severe
Sophronia, whose coldness could not keep you from serving her six days longer than
me; and I confess that I should not be sorry to know for what reason her rigors
have charmed you more, than my complyances and favors; to the end, that if ever we have such another adventure, I may govern my self therein with address.
But I pray you, added she, do not content your self with telling me, that the same
thing arrives almost to all the world, that difficulties and obstacles augment Love,
since custom passes not for a good reason with me, and that all which I can do, is
to follow it only in apparell. It is certain, beautifull Leonida, answered the Marquis, that this matter is a little too delicate to be disputed with you; but since
you have denounced war against me, it shall not be to offend you that I do answer
you; hear then, if not a satisfaction to your complaints, at leastwise a resolution
to your doubts. I think, is I understand well that which you marvell at, and that
which you cannot comprehend, it is but to know by what reason rigors and neglect do augment love, rather than caresses and favours: but if I deceive not my
self, it will not be hard for me to demonstrate it unto you. No man is ignorant
but that beauty ingenders love, and so love is no other thing but a desire to possess
beauty, in such sort, that if love be a desire, it will be so much the greater, by how
much the thing desired shall be difficult in acquiring; since being once possest, the
cause of the desire utterly ceases: wherefore it is not an improper action for Love,
but forced and necessary, to be more vive and earnest in rigors than favors, seeing
they excite and entertain it. But to explain my self more clearly, I say, that desire cannot be at rest, because at the same instant that it arrives at its end, it ceases
to be desire: So that if love be a desire, as I have already said, what stronger
proof can one have to show that it ceases to be love, than to see it arrived at its
end? But if (fair Leonida) you should not agree that love is a desire, I think at leastwise that you will not deny but that it is a fire, since so many have told you, that
they burned for you, as you cannot be ignorant of this truth. But if you consider the effects of it, you will see that I am not altogether out of reason; fire is of a
nature so active, as it consumes all that opposes it; if any thing resists it, if we
stop its passage, far from the end which we had propounded, that which seemed
should have served for opposition, serves it for nourishment; for in conclusion, fire 
is quick and ardent as long as it finds resistance; but as soon as it hath vanquished,
and that it hath nothing left to consume, it consumes it self, and ceases absolutely
to be fire, when it hath nothing more to vanquish. If it be then true that love is
fire, it is true that it kindles by difficulties; that rigors serve to foment it, and when it happens that it hath nothing left to surmount, it loses its being like the fire, and ceases absolutely to be love. Let us not marvell then any longer, if it de-





cayes with caresses, and augments with rigors. You have ingeniously defended your opinion, replyed Hypolita, and satisfied the beautifull Leonidaes doubts, but not those which your discourse might have begotten in the mind of the Mistress whom you serve, if she have any friend here, seeing if it be true that one is to attend that effect from your love which you speak of, she would not be very judicious in favouring you, since that would be for her to furnish arms her self for her own destruction. If I had had any interest in this company, answered the Marquis, I had not explained my self in this sort: But I would fain know, said Sophronia, why that which Leonida calls rigor in me, hath not wrought that effect in you which ought to be expected from it? I mean the augmentation of your love, seeing acording to what you have told us, your desires having never arrived at their end, and your fire having always found many obstacles, it should have been still as lively for me, as the first day that you spake to me of this flame. All that I have said, replyed the Marquis, are generall rules, which convene not perfectly with me, yet is it notwithstanding true, that the death of desire is in me, as in all men, the death of my love; and if I should not cease from desiring, I should never cease from loving. But by a particular grace the term of my love is to love, I desire little, and I am easily repulsed. If I obtain at first that which I would have, which is to be received favourably, I am arrived at the term that I propounded unto my self; and if I do not incounter it, I have so delicate a spirit, as being unable ever to hope for any but facile things, in losing my hope I lose the love too
which I had for the cruell one; and changing of object, I arrive still at my end,
which is to love eternally. But if this reason which is particular to me, doth not
satisfie you, I have no more to say than this, that as we see Amber and the Adamant, and so many other wonders which are in Nature, working by reasons that
are hidden from the knowledge of men, so am I inconstant in that manner, by a
particular vertue, whereof I cannot reach the cause, and which at this present
doth also inforce me to have no more but good will for the fair Leonida. It were
fit then, said Leonora, to the end we may not be troublesom to you now, that you
would talk to us of your past-loves, since you can finde none here that is worthy to
be beloved of you twice. We know already, said the Count, that which befell him
in his Countrey, and that which hapned unto him here in Genoua; but we know
not his adventures in the Court of France, and the proposition which you have
made cannot be but very pleasing to the company. For my part, said the Marquis,
I will not resist it, and I will indeed acquaint you with one. But whereas the
anger he was in, for that he could not be amorous in this place, had taken up his
thoughts, he acquited himself of it after an extraordinary way; yet was it not
without musing attentively on that which he had to say, never regarding whether
all the company were in case to hear him or no; and after he had performed all
the ceremonies of a man that prepares himself for a long Narration, he began to
speak in this sort.
The third History of the Marquis.I Loved a woman passionately, that was of a condition equall to mine, she answered my affection, whether feignedly or truly, I know not; but I know that I received all the honest favours from her which I could expect; and that at such time
as I was the most favourably intreated by her, without having any occasion to
complain on my part, nor seeking any pretext on hers, she forsook me for another.
Behold the end of my History. The whole company then broke out into such a
laughter, to see that his attention, his silence, and the preparation which he had
brought to the hearing of a long adventure, had been paid with so short a Narration, as they thought they should never have given over. It must be acknowledged
said Leonida at length, that if they which write our Romances, did make them
deliver their Relations in this sort, we should not admire, as we do, the wonder-





full memories of their Heroes, who make narrations, which cause them to pass
whole daies without eating, and nights without sleeping. For my part, said the
Marquis, I found my self so ill with such another adventure at Monaco, where I
recounted my follies of Genoua to the Princess, as I am fully resolved never to fall
into the like again; and I should rather chuse to talk to the beautifull Æmilia,
whom I did love, and still doe love whether I will or no, than play the Astrologer
a second time. In the mean while Doria, who was infinitely desirous to speak to Sophronia of his growing passion, thought there was no better way to make the generall conversation cease, and bring on a more particular one, than to propound the
Musick, for the charming of the Marquis his bad humor. To which effect then he
told the Count, that if harmony had at other times had the power to appease
the fury of some, it might easily allay the melancholy of a man that was not
accustomed to have any. The Marquis, who could not be deceived with such like
things, presently perceived Doriaes design; and to vex him a little he told him, that
the remedy which he propounded unto him could not work but upon the melancholick, and so by consequence, it would be unprofitable for him. But after he had
waggishly caused the conversation to endure a little longer, he was the first that prest
Leonora to impose silence on the company by a consort of lutes, which she hadmade
them hope for. The Count then arose, and pushing open the door of a Cabinet, he
ordained the Musicians to begin. In the mean time the Marquis, who was willing
to oblige Doria, said, that the Ladies were first to be placed, where they might best hear; thereupon he made a demy-circle of chaires some four or five paces from the
Cabinet door, wherein he placed all the women, and behind every Lady, he seated
a man, playing the Master of the ceremonies so dextrously, as without any shew of
affectation in his choice, he placed Horatio behind Hypolita, and Doria close to Sophronia, who failed not to make use of so favourable an occasion: For after they
had harkened a long time to an excellent consort of Lutes, with a silence worthy
of so charming an harmony, and that he saw how in the assembly each one in particular began softly to commend that which seemed to be the most agreeable in the
Musick, he took the liberty to say unto Sophronia with a low voice; I may not venture to deliver my opinion of those exquisite lessons I have heard; because the small
attention that I have lent unto them, would not permit me to be an equall judge
thereof. Doubtless the thought which hath diverted you from it, replyed Sophronia turning her head about towards him, was either very pleasing, or very melancholick. It was both together, answered Doria, and if I might presume to make
you the confident of a matter that imports as much as my life, you should see without question that I am not far from the truth. It is for you to consider, said she unto
him, whether this secret, if it may be told me, would be advantagious to you for
me to know it; and on the contrary, I being of a sex that is accused of being unable to conceal any thing, whether you are to fear the exposing of your self to the
hazard of my publishing that which you shall have told me. If that were the onely obstacle, replyed Doria, that could keep me from speaking to you, I should not be
long without discovering the botom of my heart unto you, seeing I am but too
sure, that you would never tell that which you had known of me: But there needs
so much boldness in daring to declare unto you, that you are adored, as I dare
not undertake it. Doria was no less surprised for having said so much, than Sophronia, who blushed at first, and hyding her face with a fan of carnation feathers,
which she held in her hand, she was constrained, to avoid being seen of all the
company, to turn herself yet more towards Doria. But whereas she very much 
esteemed him, she was contented to say to him notwithstanding her ordinary severity;
You have so surprised me with the conclusion of you discourse, as I have not the
judgement free enough to discern, whether it be a cast of your wit, or a design to offend me. Nevertheless, seeing I have an inclination to honor you, I will believe, without examining the matter, that it is the first I have spoken of. But whereas it might
happen, that if any one should hear this gallantery continue any longer, one would
not have the same indulgence for you, as I have shewed you; and that your words




might be interpreted more disadvantagiously, both for your glory, and mine; doe me the favor then, either to speak to me no more, or to change your discourse. I will obey you, answered Doria, but remember, that nothing shall ever alter the resolution I have taken to love you eternally. Sophronia returned no answer to these last words, and turning her self to Leonida, who sat next her on the right
hand, for to demand of her how she liked the Musick, it fell out that in going to
avoid one discourse of love, she interrupted another; For Alphonso, who began already to be in a strong passion for Leonida, had laboured to shew it her with the
most address that possibly he could. But whereas she was of a wily humor, and would
contrary to that of Sophronia, cunningly conceal things which were near her heart,
by feigning to discover them; in stead of answering to Sophroniaes question, she
said unto her smiling, and pointing to Alphonso; this Cavalier hath talked so much
to me of love, as I had no leisure to mind the Musick. Alphonso was somewhat amazed at this discourse, but seeing that she did not behold him, either with choler, or contempt, he said unto her with address; there appeared so much of it in
your eyes, as it would be as difficult for one not to be taken with it, as it would be
impossible for you to bemoan the evills which you are the cause of. Whilst these amiable persons entertained themselves in this sort, Horatio was not so happy, for
whatsoever care he took about it, he could not obtain one favourable look from
Hypolita, whose jealous humor had made her beleeve that he had beheld Leonida
with too much attention, whether it were that he had observed Alphonso, who spake
softly unto her, or had without design cast his eyes that way; but in conclusion all
that she answered to whatsoever he could say unto her, was to pray him with a
quipping geer not to be Alphonsoes Rivall, who was her brothers friend, for fear left
the share which she was to have in all his interests, might oblige her to break with
him. At the fame instant the consort ceased, and the Count desired the company
to renew their attention for the hearing of a Dialogue, sung by two most excellent voyces; after which the Marquis, who had set himself down by Leonora, continued the conversation still for some time with his ordinary address; and then all
this fair Troop departed away, but with different thoughts. Doria felt himself so
eased, for having made his first declaration of love to his Mistress, that he was as
much satisfied therewith, as if he had received a great favour from her. But though
Sophronia esteemed very much of Doria, though he was of an illustrious race, though
he was beloved of her brother-law, and that according to apparent reason she
could not make a fitter choise, yet was there a particular one, and that was hidden
to all the worid, but not unknown to her, which made her fear the sequel of this
passion. For she was not ignorant that the Count, albeit he esteemed of Doria in
particular, yet bore an irreconcilable hatred to the whole family in generall,
though in his actions and words he testified the clean contrary. It was in this sort
that this beautifull and prudent maid reasoned with her self, not doubting but that
Doriaes discourse was unfeigned, because she was sufficiently perswaded that he
would not easily venture to say soch like things unto her, having alwaies made
profession of a vertue austere enough. On the other side, Leonida was not sory
for having touched the heart of Alphonso; and this new conquest made her return home with joy. As for Alphonso, he could not very well judge of his happines or unhappiness, so much did the proceeding of Leonida seem extraordinary unto him; howbeit he had some hope in the gentleness of her lookes, which promised no rigor unto him. Hypolita had more sullen and unquiet thought, although she had no just cause for them; but it is sufficient to say that she was jealous for to perswade one that she went not away very well contented. As for Horatio, he was so afflicted with his Mistresses odd humor, as he could not resolve to return to his own house, till he had sought for some comfort from his sister Sophronia, vvho lived vvith Leonora, because her mother vvas dead: He vvent then to her chamber to communicate his thoughts unto her. Ah! sister (said he to her vvhen he came vvhere she vvas) I am the most unfortunate of men, and Hypolita the unjustest of your sex. It may be you call that injustice (said Sophronia unto him)





which I should call vertue. No, no, replyed Horatio, and I desire that you vvould be my judge, if you have nothing else to doe, and can intend to hear my reasons. I am vvell contented, said Sophronia, but I am so ill informed of that vvhich hath past betvvixt you these six monthes, vvherein I knovv you have loved Hypolita, as I am in doubt vvhether I may judge rightly. It is true, ansvvered Horatio, that I vvas vvilling to acknovvledge unto you, that I loved her, and that she hated not
me, vvithout recounting my adventure particularly unto you, because I alvvaies
thought that discourses o fthis nature did not please you: But albeit you have the goodness novv to let me entertain you vvith the estate of my affaires, I vvill not repeat unto you the first speeches of Love, vvhich I had with Hypolita, seeing they
are for the most part all alike amongst vvorthy persons and vvhereas time presses
me, I vvill onely give you an accompt of all that hath arrived to me since, but it
shall be in fevv vvords. I served her then vvith assiduitie enough, as you might vvell
observe; and even to that point as she was no longer able to doubt of it. I perceived
by her lookes, that my person did not displease her; that my wit and my humor
contented hers, and then when I expected some testimony of affection for a recompence of my paines, guess, my dear sister, what it was that she gave me, and the
onely one that I received? Horatio stayed a while, in expectation of Sophroniaes answer, who presently said unto him laughing, I think, brother, that I cannot without trespassing against good manners shew my self very spirituall, in guessing at the
favors which may be done to a Lover; wherefore it were fitter that you should let
me know what this favour was, than to trouble me to tell it you. Harken to me
more seriously, I conjure you, replyed Horatio, and know that this testimony of
affection, which I have so often received from Hypolita, was not the giving me occasions to see her, or to speak to her in particular; it was not an obliging letter;
it was not a bracelet of her hair; it was not a picture; it was not assuring me with
her own mouth that she did not hate me; but it was telling me, that I did not love
her, and that I loved another. In fine, the first proof which I had of her affection,
was a mark of her choler; and to express my self more clearly, jealousie alone hath
shewed her love to me. You cannot receive a more undoubted proof thereof, said
Sophronia interrupting him: Nor a more grievous one too, replyed Horatio. For
you must know (continued he) that after I had done an hundred incivilities to
satisfie her, whereof you have many times demanded the cause of me, though I never told it you; yet could I not cure her mind ofthis sancy; And of all the women
of quality of Genoua, I do not know one, that hath fair hair, which she hath not believed that I have been in love withall, Leonida onely remaines, who at this present
sticks in her stomack, and for whom she hath ill intreated me to day. If it be so,
said Sophronia, you are to take comfort, and be carefull to justifie your self unto
her; for when her jealousie shall want an object, she will questionless be constrayned
to give you another mark of her affection. Ah, sister, replyed Horatio, you are but
little acquainted with this passion! it formes phantasmes, it deceives the sense, it
illudes reason, and without any ground, or subject, it leaves not to work in those
whom it possesseth; it makes them to see that which is not; makes them believe impossible things; and utterly perverts the understanding. At leastwise, so far as I have
observed it in others, for I have never tryed it otherwaies, which certainly hath
been crueller to me, than if I had been jealous my self. Bemoan then, my dear sister,
the misery, wherein I find my self ingaged, and whence I know not how to get
out. Verely I doe bemoan you, said Sophronia, and so much the more, for that I doe
not know how to ease you. I am easssd already, answered Horatio, by recounting my torment unto you; but it is time to let you go to Leonora. Horatio departed
then half comforted in having discovered his grief to the vertuous Sophronia, but
the next day was no sooner arrived, but he was taken with his unquietness again;
which made him go in all hast to Doriaes house, though he could not hope to see
Hypolita so early; but he was happier than he thought he should have been, for it
fell out that Doria was in his sisters lodging, at such time as he was advertised that
Horatio asked for him: And whereas he was not ignorant of the passion he was in



for Hypolita, he would needes have him come into her chamber, howsoever she withstood it, to the end he might oblige him to a like courtesie, when there should be occasion for it. Hypolita recevied Horatio somewhat coldly; but yet with civility, being unwilling her brother should see their petty disorders. Horatio thought that he had never seen her so beautifull, as she appeared to him in a neglectfull habit, which she had put on, with an intention not to have been seen of any body all that day. Their first discourse was of the last evenings entertainment, but after that had continued a while, Doria went into his sisters Cabinet, to write a letter to Sophronia; for he was not yet fully satisfied with the declaration he had made her; and though he was long about it, yet could be not draw up one that contented him, so much did he fear to offend Sophronia. He thought the incivility which he used in leaving Horatio upon his going from him, would be in
stead of a favor to him; so that onely making him a complement about it, he left
him the liberty to entertain his Mistress. He was no sooner alone with her, but he
undertook to justifie himself, and gave her so many reasons to make it appear to
her that he did not love Leonida, as all her jealousie could not furnish her with one
so oppose his: After that, he besought her to call to mind the care he had taken to
please her; the extreme affection which he had alwaies born her; and how many
times she had permitted him to interpret her resentments and choler to his advantage. Hypolita heard him with a great deal of attention, but for all that he could
not perswade her, for with a precipitous voyce she sad unto him; Suppose that your
indeavours and services have been powerfull enough to obtain my affection, yet
have they not been powerfull enough to conserve it; and thereof I could bring you
a thousand testimonies; but whereas they are matters wherein your excuses might
give me satisfaction, and not desiring to receive any from you, I will not furnish
you with meanes to doe it; but to convince you, I will onely say one thing, which
admits no reply, and which all your cunning cannot destroy. Have you not seen
me, continued she, receive the civilities of the youngest of the Fregoses, of the eldest of the Adornes, and of some others, without regarding yours? Have you not
been in some assemblys where that last hath alwaies taken me out to dance, whilst
I have scarce so much as turned my look towards you? Have I omitted any occasion of testifying unto him, when you past with him before my window, or in all
other places where I might have you for a witness, that his love did not displease
me? No, Horatio, I have omitted none, and the affection which I bore you, made
me have recourse to this artifice, hoping I should know, by giving you some cause
of jealousie, the force ofyour passion; but I have not seen, though you have seen all
these things, that you had any sense of them; and albeit I knew that by this untoward experience I should be in danger of losing you, if you were sensible, yet chose
I rather to resolve upon it, and to assure my self of your love, than to conserve you
with a luke-warm and indifferent affection. I have ever heard, that jealousie is the
daughter of love, yet do I not say that love cannot be without jealousie. Questionless you will tell me, that by my own reasons I am unjust in complaining of you,
since it is possible, that you may have love without having jealousie. But alas! this
discourse hath not so much as an apparent reason, neither can I suffer my self to
be perswaded to that which I desire so passionately. And to shew you that I cannot force my mind to deceive my self, hear a thing, which hath made me to
think upon this matter. I have been perswaded then, that love alone cannot produce jealousie; and how it is necessary that jealousie should have a mother which
may contribute to her birth; this mother, if I be not deceived, is occasion; and as
love without her cannot produce jealousie, so she without love canot beget
jealousie. This reasoning seemes so powerfull to me, as you cannot make any
objection which it destroyes not; for in fine, you may well have love without
jealousie, when as you have no occasion for it; but I having given it you and
you not having taken it, is to say absolutely, that you have had no love. Ah!
fair Hypolita, answered Horatio, how I doe rejoyce at these complaints of
yours? for the more reasons you have brought to maintain your opinion, the



more have you established my felicity. You say then, amiable Hypolita (continued
Horatio) that there can be no love without jealousie, and because I have
not been jealous, I have had no love; you shall pardon me if you please, if without losing the respect which I ow you, I dare take the libertie to contradict you,
in maintaining with reason, that the perfectest and sincerest reason is that which
admits of no jealousie. It is a thing known of all reasonable and dis-interessed
persons, that he who loves truly, loves only to love, and not to be beloved, or to
expect any recompence; for that thought is too base and abject for so noble a passion. Now if the love of beauty, which is that whereof we speak, springs from
an object that is pleasing to the sight, it followes, that so long as this object seems amiable unto us, so long will our love continue; and whether the person beloved answers our affection, or answers it not, this love
shall be still the same love. But that I may make use of a comparison as well
as you, a man sees a fair Lady, and love arises in his heart, is it necessary
for him to examine whether this Lady be ingaged to another in affection? it is
certain that it is not; and it is everyday seen that love doth subject us to them
whose love is ingaged otherwhere: so that one may wel judg from thence, that a man
ought to persevere in his love, though some cause be given him of jealousie, since
when he was not beloved, and that he was induced to love by the only sight of
beauty, he left not to be infinitely amorous. And if I may be permitted to make
use of History in this encounter, what sympathy, or what affection could that
young Athenian expect, who became so desperately in love with a beautifull Statue,
and whose passion was so extreme, as the like was never heard of? It is very certain, that he loved only to love, seeing the object of his passion was absolutely incapable of any correspondence. Now then if it be true, that a Lover is satisfied in
knowing that he loves, he is most assured that jealousie is not of power enough to
destroy his love, and that this jealousie is rather an effect of a defective, than of a
perfect love. And to speak freely unto you, tell me, I pray you, who can be so
hardy, after a worthy person hath had the goodness to receive our services favourably, and to testifie some affection unto us, as to suspect she should have the same
thoughts for another? Ah, fair Hypolita, the gallantry and civility which you
have used to the eldest of the Adornes, could not oblige me to draw so bad a consequence against you. And to comprehend all the rest of my reasons in one alone, I
am but to say, that he who by his discourse gives some marks of his jealousie to
his Mistress, names her inconstant, facile, and almost infamous: Judge now, fair
Hypolita, whether these be words agreeing with a Lady.  In the mean time it is
most undoubted, that in what tearms soever jealousie is expressed, it cannot be expressed but in this manner: whereas quite contrary, this confidence which we have
in the person beloved, which makes us to approve of all her actions, is the true
mark of perfect love, and indeed merits the most acknowledgement, if I maybe
permitted to say so. I have not suspected you then, beautifull Hypolita, of inconstancy, because I have esteemed you very much; and if I had had as good a place
in your heart, as you have had in mine, you would questionless have done me justice, in not accusing me of infidelity. Hypolita was not sorry to find Horatio's reasons stronger than hers, but whereas she was high-minded, she would not let him see
that she began to repent her; but contrarily making shew as if she thought it strange
her brother should leave her so long entertaining Horatio, she called him, for fear she should be constrained to say something that would be too obliging unto him.
And whereas Doria could not satisfie himself, he came out of his Sisters Cabinet,
and went down to wait on Horatio, whom she could not let part, without beholding him in such a sort, as he might easily perceive, that he was in better terms
with her than when he came thither; for it is the custom of those that are easily
angry, to be as easily pacified; to accuse, that one may justifie himself; and to complain, that they may be satisfied. In the mean time Doria had no sooner left Horatio,
but the Marquis came to him for to show him a Letter, which he had written to Æmilia. Why, said Doria unto him, do you think of her still? I must needs



think of her, said the Marquis, in the necessity I am in: But before you marvel-at my constancy, read that which you shall finde written in this paper, and hal ving opened it, he saw that it was thus.The Marquis his Letter to Æmilia.AFter the knowledge you have had of my humour, you will doubtless finde it strange, that the passion which you begot in my heart at Monaco, should be conserved there still in Genoua, and that an absence of three days hath not destroyed that which you established in a moment. I am for all that constrained thereunto by a necessary, which I never tried before, and though my mind be not changed, yet am I forced not to change you. Make use (fair Æmilia) of a good which fortune presents you with; for not to abuse you, albeit you have the fairest eyes in the world, and that in the thought I presently am in, you are the most charming person that I know, my fidelitie is for all that rather an effect of my inconstancy, than of your beauty; for there being never a woman in Genoua whom I have not loved, I am compelled to love you still, and to fear that Destiny will force me to become faithfull: But at least I can assure you, that if this misfortune should arrive unto me, there is none in the world that could render it so supportable unto me as you; and the passion I am in for your beauty is so strong, that I wish I may not be put to so hard and tryall, as not to be able to be absent from you, for fear I should be constrained to quit Italie, or a leastwise Genoua, rather than quit my inclinations.I must confess, said Doria, that I never saw a Love-Letter of the stile of this
same; and how pressing soever it be for you to send it away to Monaco, I am resolved not to let you have it again, till all our friends have seen it. The Marquis resisted it a while, but at length consented thereunto; and in regard the Assembly
met not very soon, the Marquis sent not away his Letter till just the day before
they thought the Princess would have died: So that when La Roche was arrived at
Monaco, and entred into the Castle, he was much amazed to see them all in tears.
And whereas in this occasion the Officers had no care of any thing, he went even
to the Princesses chamber without any impediment; where he saw Justiniano, he
not seeing him, for grief so absolutely possessed him, as he was incapable of all
knowledge, but of that of his own misfortune. He could not indure the sight of
the Princess, neither could he also keep from her, so that he was in a continuall agitation. In the mean time the Physicians desiring to do their uttermost endeavour, still carefully observe the estate she is in, they consult with their books, and
in so desperate a disease they resolve to have recourse unto extreme remedies; so
that abandoning ordinary Physick, one amongst them, who was an excellent Empirick, made her take so wonderfull an essence, that after it had caused her to sleep
eight hours, it rectified the blood, diminished her Fever, restored her strength, and
put her quite out of danger. The indifferency she had shewed at the approaches
of death, seemed the same, when as the Physicians assured her that she should not die
of this sickness; and she gave them greater thanks for their affection to her, than
for their saving her life. Howbeit they were not without thanks for this resurrection; for Justiniano received so great a satisfaction from it, as he could not give
them thanks enough of his acknowledgement. His joy nevertheless was mingled
with a great deal of bitterness, and his soul was not in an estate of tasting a quiet
pleasure. This while La Roche, whom the Marquis had sent, hearing that the
Princess was out of danger, went to Justiniano's lodging, for to render him the civilities of his friends, and to assure him that they knew nothing of his affliction.
Justiniano received him with more coldness, than his friendship to them seemed to
permit; but the displeasure wherein he was, dispenced with him from being regular in his complements; he willed la Roche for all that to render his back unto all
them from whom he had received any, and to pray them not to think it strange if
he returned not to Genoua before the Princess were fully recovered. That done,
la Roche went to Æmilia to deliver her his Masters Letter, which she reecived




with a great deal of joy. For the Princesses amendment had put her mind into a
favourable a posture for him, as she told la Roche that she would return an answer
thereunto, albeit the Princess was not yet in case to have her permission
demanded for it, and without further delay she caused Paper to be brought
her by a Maid that served her, and answered the Marquis in these
tearms.
Æmilias Letter to the Marquis.IT would be too much vanity in me to pretend unto the obtaining of that from you,
which so great a number of fair persons could not oblige you to render unto them. Do
not believe then that I regard you as a conquest, which I may never lose, but contrarily
I am resolved to do in this occasion, as great Captains use to do, who, after they have taken a place which they thinks they cannot hold, set it on fire, and destroy it themselves, to
get some advantage still by this loss. And whereas there was never place so hard to be
kept, as your heart, I purpose, in order to that you have written me, to bring new flames
unto it, rather than to resolve to lose you altogether: There will be shortly at Genoua a
fair kinswoman of mine, whom I conjure you to love, when at you shall no longer judge me
worthy of that honor, to the end that in losing your love, I may at leastwise comfort my
self with your sight, with your conversation, and with your friendship.
Æmilia.This Letter being sealed, she gave to la Roche, who presently departed for to return unto Genoua, without speaking to the Princess; for ever since she was out
of danger, the Physicians had absolutely forbidden any one from talking to her,
no not so much as Justiniano, who saw himself very soon kept from it by a stronger
reason. For whether he had been too long without eating or sleeping, or that
grief alone had been the cause of his indisposition, he found himself within a
short time, in a sickness as desperate as that of the Princess, who not seeing him about her, was very inquisitive to know where he was. The Physicians and Æmilia, who feared she would afflict her self too much if she knew the truth, told her,
that Justiniano having seen her quite out of danger, and being prest by an important affair which had befallen him at Genoua, was gone thither with an intent to
have returned back again before she should have taken notice of his departure.
But when they saw Justiniano's sickness grow dangerous, and that the Princess
was as much troubled with hearing no news of him, as she could have been if
she had known the condition wherein he was, they conceived it was fit, fearing
the sad event of Justiniano's malady, to acquaint her with that which they had concealed from her. Æmilia was she that charged her self with this heavy Commission, she carried the matter so dextrously, as she ingaged the Princess to speak of
Justiniano, and to marvell at his unexpected absence, and so unthought-of a silence.
It would not be hard for me, answered Æmilia, with a sad countenance, to take
you out of this unquietness, if I did not fear to give you another greater than
that. Whereupon the Princess, leaning with her right arm on the pillow, and
with her left hand also drawing the curtain, fixed her look on Æmilia, and
after she had been a pretty while without speaking, as it were to divine
of that which she should be acquainted with, she said unto her in such a
fashion, as shewed that she would bee obeyed; disguise not the truth unto
me, let me know my miserie as great as it is, and tell me whether
Justiniano be dead or unfaithfull; for provided he be neither the one nor the
other, I shall receive all other misfortunes with a great deal of indifferencie.
The last cannot be, answered Æmilia, and heaven will not permit that the other
should arrive unto you. But not to disguise the truth unto you, Justiniano never
parted from Monaco, and the fear alone of redoubling your sickness, in acquain-




ting you with his, hath kept us from telling it to you; but finding it to continue
longer than we thought it would, I held it my duty to advertise you of it. You are
a cruell creature, replyed the Princess, to conceal a thing from me, which concernes my life. And what will Justiniano say of the little care I had of him? It is by
his order, answered Æmilia, that we have caried the business in this sort. If you
will have me pardon you this fault, said the Princess, so order the matter, that
Justiniano may not be surprised when he shall see me. Æmilia did what she could
then to keep her from getting out of her bed, but neither her intreaties, nor the
counsell of the Physicians, could alter her resolution. She calls her women, gets on
a night-gown, and causing her self to be held up by the armes, she goes to Justiniioes lodging, whom she found so changed, as he could hardly be known. Assoon as
he saw her enter he indeavoured to salute her, but being unable to lift up his head,
he was constrained to be contented onely with turning his eys towards her, and saying to her with a feeble and languishing voice, which could not be heard by any but
her self, for her women were a pretty way distant from them; At length, Madam,
fortune shall not separate us, and death is going to doe that, which I expected from
the cruelty of the former: Nevertheless I shall die contentedly, since I have still the
pleasure to see you, provided you will promise to live for the love of me, and that
my memory shall be dear unto you; For I find this advantage in death, that it keeps
me from being unfaithfull to you; It finishes the combat of love & honor which could
not be vanquished in my soul; it makes me satisfie them both; and to say all, it separates us, but I do not forsake you;and I doe nothing in this occasion,but what I canè
not cuse but do. The Princess having her cheekes all bedewed with tears, answered
him sighing, I am not yet so far from the grave, but that I may enter into it with you,
if death should carry you thither; but if you doe love me, you will strive to live.
Think not of conserving your self, since you have no will to it, but of conserving me,
and believe not that you can die without me. I have let you see what grief
can do upon me; and I should have no need, either of poison, or poignard, to
quit me of this life, for the loss of you alone would suffice for it. Think not for
all this that I speak to you thus out of the fear to die, it is an apprehension which
is not my soul, and I doe not find death dreadfull but in the person beloved; let me
not make tryall then of so sharp a grief; live, if it be possible, and contribute at
least what you can unto it. I will indeed obey you, replyed Justiniano but take
heed you do not thereby deprive me of a remedy which I shall not easily meet
with again. As he would have procceded, one came and advertised the Princess
that Doria having understood of his Friends sikness, was arived at the Castle, and
desired to see him. The Physicians then approched to Justinianoes bed side, and told
the Princess, that if she loved his life, she was to let him rest so quiet, and suffer
few to see him. Justiniano intreated them to let him imbrace Doria, who presently
was brought in. This interview moved all them to pitty that saw it; for Justiniano appeared so constant, Doria so afflicted, and the Princess so forlorn, as it was impossible to forbear shedding of teares at so lamentable a spectacle. The chiefest of the Physicians coming to Justiniano, and feeling his pulse, found that his feaver was increast, and judged by the unequall beating thereof, that the agitation of his spirit had redoubled that of his blood and humors; so that approching once more to the Princess, he told her that Justiniano was not to be succoured with tears, and that she must absolutely be resolved to leave him to their conduct, and not to see him again till he was in a better estate. Since my sight is to deadly to him, replyed the Princess, I must obey you, but I beleive it will not be for any long time. This said, she went out of Justinianoes chamber, after she had charged him again not to resist any remedy, and to remembrr that she would have him live. Doria and Æmilia helped to lead her to her chamber; but that which was wonderfull in this incounter, was, that the Princess, who had not been out of her bed since she thought she should have dyed, felt her self less weak than before, and the desire she had to be able to assist Justiniano in person, whether the Physicians would or no, was so powerfull in her, as in four daies she found her self in an estate strong enough to be almost continually with Justiniano, for the space of two monthes and a half,



that the violence of his sickness lasted. During which time, the Count, Doria, and
the Marquis, made many voyages to Monaco, and whereas Justiniano was very considerable at Genoua, there was not a person of quality which took not great care to
be informed of his health. All the assemblies, which were made at Leonoraes, were
melancholy too; and their conversations, which were wont to be full of nothing
but love and gallantery, were wholly now of the inconstancie of things; of the necessity of dying, and of the little lastingness of the most assured pleasures. They
could not mervail enough, that after so long an absence; after the escaping from so
many misfortunes; after the drying up of so many teares; and when it seemed that
nothing could oppose Justinianoes and Isabellaes content, they should find themselves more unhappy than before: they knew not for all that how far their unhappiness extended, for their secret misfortunes were without doubt the greatest and
most sensible. And when as Justinianoes sickness was no longer dangerous, andthat
he had recovered his strength, then it was that he was the most afflicted. For coming to consider the little time he had remaining to make good his word which he
had given Soliman; and that he was to quit Isabella, his grief became so great, as
had not his soul been already long accustomed to melancholy, he could not without dying have supported so grievous an apprehension. But a little while after he
had begun to goe out of his chamber, for to repair to that of the Princess, being still
very feeble and languishing, he said unto her with a great deal of pain; Now, Madam, is the time wherein you are to dispose of me, and to let me know, whether
I am to be wanting, either to my love, or to my honor; live with infamy, or die
with glory; satisfie Soliman, or oblige him by the breaking of my word to ruine
not onely all the Christians that are in his Empire, not onely all Europe, but you
too, who is more dear to me than all the world beside. I think, Madam, I have already told your excellencie, what I ought to doe in such a grievous case, advise then what you will have me to doe; But I beseech you, make me no more
such  propositions, as an excess of generositie would render unjust; hearken to
nothing but reason in this incounter; do not follow that which your affection
inspires you with; and remember how I ought not to do any thing that is unworthy of the honor which I have to be beloved of you. I have told you already, replyed the Princess, what power I have over my self in this occasion; and my proposition seemes so just unto me, as I can find nothing that can destroy it; For in
fine, you will satisfie Soliman, and you will satisfie me also; I will doe nothing against my honor, and I will satisfie that which I ow to our affection: Resolve then
to mary me and to part away, and  never hope that I will change my design.
When you were at Constantinople, did you believe that I had so little affection, as
I could easily resolve to receive a visit from you, for to be deprived afterwards of
your sight, it may be for as long as live? Ah! Madam, said Justiniano interrupting
her, I had no other intent in parting from Constantinople, than that of seeing you,
and of coming hither time enough to keep you from shutting yourself up in a
Cloister. For understanding the resolution you had taken for it, upon the belief
you were in of my death, nothing could have been able to retain me. What, said
I, the incomparable Isabella shall make her self an eternall prisoner for thee, and if
fortune ever restores thee thy liberty, thou shalt find her without hers! Ah! no, no,
rather doe any thing to hinder it. It was in this sort. Madam, that I reasoned
with my self; and that, together with the hope of seeing you, made me, without examining the matter, take my resolution. And I believe I have accomplished that
which I propounded to my self; I have seen you, Madam, and having let you
know that I am living, it is no longer in your power to dispose of your self, seeing
your word keepes you from it; And for me, I promise you if I cannot break my
chaines at Constantinople, the newes of my death shall soon set you at liberty: For
to expose you to all the misfortunes, which I foresee, in permitting you to follow
my fortune, is a thing that I will nevever consent to. The Princess, seeing Justinianoes firmness, said unto him with a kind of tone, which testified some choler, if
the resolution you have taken be an immoveable one, add not to you cruelty, that
of excusing it with weak reasons; and to take from you the meanes to doe it, I




conjure you never to speak to me more of it, for fear I should not have power enough over my self to keep me from giving you some markes of my resentment. I assign you eight daies, to think yet of this important affair; but hope not in the mean time, to see me change my mind. I will obey you, Madam, answered Justiniano, but if you knew to what an hard tryall you do reduce my soul by this excess of generosity; and how difficult it is to refuse, out of an excess of love, that which love it self doth make us desire, you would have the goodness without
doubt not to give me a mark of affection, which love and reason will not have me
receive. The conversation of these two Lovers finished in teares and sighes; and
each of them resting in their first determination, Justiniano retired to his chamber
but in such dispair, as never man was in more. At length after he had combated
sufficiently within himself, he took his last resolution; and knowing full well that
the Princess would never permit him to part without her; neither would have him
break his word with Soliman; and which too he could not indure to do; he concluded to go away without bidding her farewell: And to favour his intention,
Doria arrived at Monaco, whom he told in private, for to give some pretext to his departure, that having seen the Princess given over by all her Physicians, he had made
a vow not to mary her, till he had been at Hierusalem, if it pleaseth Heaven to restore her to her health; That whereas he was resolved to perform this pilgrimage
unknown, and that this voyage could not be but long, he conjured him to take care
of the Princess and her affairs in his absence; That in the mean time he should not
speak of this design, till he was gone; and that then he should deliver his complements to all his Friends. He told him moreover that he was obliged to steal away from the Princess, who would not have him make this voyage without her;
but being loth she should be exposed to the incommodities of so painfull a pilgrimage, he had concluded to part without saying any thing to her, but onely leaving
her a letter. Doria was strangely surprised with this discourse; but seeing that Justiniano spoke seriously, he offered (how amorous soever he was of Sophronia) to accompany him in this voyage; and the contestation which they had upon this subject had not ended so soon, had not Justiniano told him that the necessity of his affairs required it to be so; and that to render him a proof of his affection it would
suffice he should finish him with meanes to get from Monaco secretly. That will
not be hard for you to do, answered Doria, for yesterday, when I arrived at the Port,
I heard by chance of a French barque, that is bound for Venice, which parts away
to morrow morning by the break of day, and no doubt will receive you, assoon as
you shall present your self; so that you shall have no more to doe, but to get abord
her, and I will stay here to deliver your letter to the Princess. You will be but unwelcome to her for it, replyed Justiniano, who was not willing that Doria should
be present at Isabellaes receiving of a newes, which would so much afflict her, for
fear left the constraint she would be in, should more augment her grief. He prayed
him then not to see her, till he had her permission for it. And whereas he demanded of him, who should wait on him in this voyage? Justiniano answered him, that
one of the conditions of his vow was, to goe alone and unknown. Doria opposed
this as much as possibly he could, but vain was it for him to give any counsell to
his Friend; and Justiniano, taking a part of the money which he had at Monaco, desired Doria let him goe and write, and to get him to bed. After that Doria had
obeyed him, and that Justinianoes people were gone out of his chamber, except
it were one, whom he had commanded to tarry in a withdrawing room till he
called him, he leaned on a table, and looking on the paper which he found there,
but without marking that which he looked on, he passed up and down in his mind
all his past misfortunes, all those which then he resented, and all those which he
foresaw for the future; but of all these deadly thoughts, the cruellest, and the hardest to be indured, was that which set before his eyes, how he was to abandon
Isabella: His heart was not strong enough to support with constancie so dolorous
an apprehension; and his teares falling abundantly on his paper put him in mind
how he was set there with a purpose to write: So that after he had spent a great




part of the night in an estate which may be more easily imagined than described,
he took a pen, and inspired more by his grief than his wit, he traced these
sad words.Justiniano's Letter to Isabella.NOt having been able to surmount your genorosity, either with my tears, or with my
prayers, I have at length surmounted mine own apprehensions, both with my love, and
with my reason. I have found that though Fortune will not let me be happy, yet that I
shall at least be unhappy alone; and that it is just I should steal away from you, that I
may steal you from the cruelty of Fortune, by keeping you from following of mine. I am
gone then, Madam, or to say better, I do separate my self from my self, in separating my
self from you. I do obey the desire which you had, that I should satisfie my honor, by
shewing my self not unworthy of your love, and by a most sensible misfortune I am forced to absent my self from you, without having so much as the consolation to bid you adieu,
and to let you see by my tears what the grief is which I suffer. It is so great, Madam,
that losing the use both of sight and reason together, I am compelled to shut it up in my
heart, being impossible to express ie. But before I leave you, remember that I beg the
conservation of your life of you, till such time as you shall understand how heaven will dispose of mine. I have told Doria, that I am going to Jerusalem to accomplish a vow,
which I made for you during your sickness; make use of this artifice as you please, and
believe that before it be six moneths, I shall return happy unto you, or be dead with
grief.JUSTINIANO.After that Justiniano had made an end of writing, and sealed his Letter, he called that servant, which he had stayed to wait on him, and willed him to deliver it
the Princess three hours after his departure. And when this man demanded of
him whether he would not go to bed, Justiniano made a sign to him to be gone,
feigning as though he had somewhat els to write; but it was indeed because his
grief was so great, as not being able to sleep, he thought that the agitation of his
body would ease that of his mind. He past the rest of the night in walking up
and down, with so great an unquietness, as one is not able to describe that which
he resented. He oftentimes opened the window to see whether it were day; and
though his greatest misfortune was to part from Monaco, yet one would have said,
that he was impatient to be gone from thence; so much was his soul troubled, and
so much was his reason confounded. In the mean time Doria, who had not slept
all the night, hearing Justiniano walk, (for his chamber joyned to his) caused himself to be made ready, and entred into his friends, just as the day began to break.
He would yet have disswaded him from this voyage, and once more desired him
to let him accompany him, but Justiniano would by no means accept of so obliging
an offer; so that Doria seeing his friends resolution, was constrained to follow his
pleasure. And whereas the shadows of the night were almost quite dispersed by
the approach of the Sun, Doria went and treated with the Master of the French
Barque for Justiniano's passage, who followed him to the Port, his face covered with
his cloak. The Guards of the Town and Castle, who saw him go forth so early,
marvelled not at it, for during the little time wherein he had been well at Monaco,
he had used to walk out at such hours to entertain his thoughts at the Sea-side. The
separation of these two friends had been with more tenderness, if Justiniano had
been less afflicted; but love so strongly possessed his heart, as there was no more
room left there for friendship: so that when he came to imbrace Doria, all that he
could say to him, was to conjure him to have a care of the Princess.  He would
fain have disclosed the truth unto him, but Isabella having forbidden him so to
do, he durst not disobey her. He got aboard then being scarce able to speak, and
suffering himself to be disposed of by them that received him, he abandoned himself not so much to the Sea, as to his grief. The Pilot having order given him to
part, steered his coursc for Venice, and Justiniano standing up beheld Monaco, with
his arms across, and his eys full of tears, never marking Doria, who still made signs of farewell to him from the Port, whereunto he returned no shew of answer at all.
But when Doria had lost the sight of him, he went back unto the Castle, with a



purpose not to shew himself to the Princess till she commanded him, that he might exactly observe what Justiniano had intreated him unto. In the mean time the three hours after his departure being past, he with whom he had left his Letter, went and delivered it to the Princess, who was but newly awake. At first when she heard that Justiniano had sent her that paper, she changed colour, and asked where he was: He went forth very early with Doria, (answered this man) whom I saw return back alone to his chamber. Without doubt (said the Princess then to her self opening the Letter) Justiniano hath deceived me, and Doria to be faithfull to his friend, hath betrayed me. But when she had read that which Justiniano wrote her, and that she knew he was gone, as also that Doria was deceived as well as she, though in a different manner, she gave a great skreek: howbeit desiring to conceal her grief from him that brought her these deadly news, she commanded him to with-draw, and to stay in her house till he had further order. As soon as she was at liberty to complain, what said she not against Justiniano, against fortune, and against her self? Am I not culpable of mine own misfortune? (said she sighing) Ought not I to have had him watched? Had I not made sufficient tryall of the
stedfastness of his resolution? he had resisted my intreaties, he was not moved with
my tears, he would not hearken to my sighs: With what stronger arms could I
hope to vanquish him? but now is no time to reason of things done; Justiniano
is gone, and how strong soever my love is, I may not forget mine honor; I cannot resolve to follow him as a forsaken one; he separated himself from me that he
might be generous; and that I may not swerve from vertue, I will not follow him.
But what say I, unfortunate as I am? if I know not where he is, how can I follow
him? Then suddenly holding her peace, and turning her self on the other side,
she sighed with so much violence, as it was impossible for her to speak. A little
after for all that she fell to speaking again in this sort. Ah, Justiniano, (said she)
what a sensible outrage to my affection was this excess of love, that hath torn thee
from me! the tempest whereunto thou exposest thy self, is to be less feared, no
doubt, than that which is raised in my soul. Is it possible (continued she) that
thou couldst resolve to refuse the having of me for a companion of thy miseries?
Certainly thou didst not believe that my soul was strong enough; and thou
thoughtest peradventure that I did not intreat thee, but to be denyed. But I ams
cruell Csaid she) to make so ill a construction of the meaning of the most generous
of men; who deprives not himself of me, but for the love of me; who consider
none but my interests, and who loves not even his own honor, but for my proper
glory. Let us think better of Justiniano; let us live to obey him; and let us not
give tortune that advantage, to have more cruelty, than we have constancy: Let
us force her by our resolution to be weary of hurting us, since indeed there is nothing left us but that to do. After she had been a pretty while without speaking,
and that she had hidden his Letter, she sent for Doria to confirm that unto him
which had been told him by his friend. And whereas she had a great and generous
soul, she composed her countenance so well, and so throughly restrained her tears
as no more sorrow appeared in her face, than that which the absence of Justiniano
alone might well be the cause of. Is not your friend cruell indeed (said she to Doria
as soon as he came to her) to steal away from me, for the satisfying of a thing
which he owed not but to my consideration, seeing it seems to me that there is
some justice I should follow him in a voyage, whereof I was the occasion. And if
I may be permitted to accuse you of too much fidelity towards him, I shall tell
you freely, that you would not have a little obliged me, if you had betrayed his secret in discovering it to me. There is sometimes (added she) a great deal of generosity in not serving ones Friends according to their intention, and in confiding rather that which is utile and glorious, than what is pleasing to them; and if I be not deceived, the matter ought to have gone so in this incounter. But in conclusion
Justinano is gone, and there is nothing left us but to make vowes for him, as
he hath made them for us. It is certain, replyed Doria, that Justinianoes voyage strangly surprised me; and that I was tempted to acquaint you with his design: but I con-



sess. Madam, when I knew that his voyage was absolutely necessary, seeing he had
promised it, and that he did not steal away from you but to keep you from following him, I found that he had reason for it, and I served him in his design; Yet was
it not till I had first offered to accompany him, with all the testimonies of affection
I could render him; and I had added force to intreaty, had he not assured me that
he should not accomplish his vow, if he went not alone and unknown. But is it
possible that he is gone, said the Princess? disguise not the truth unto me, is he not
concealed in some place, to take order for his affairs? No, Madam, answered Doria, for he hath given me the charge of them. If that be so, said the Princess, who
would fain have been at liberty to shed teares, I hold it fit that you should goe and
publish at Genoua the true cause of his absense, for fear left so unexpected a departure should cause bruites to run about, either to his disadvantage, or mine. But before you go, tell me I pray you, whether Justiniano were afflicted indeed to quit me?
whether he said any thing to you to tell me? and what were his last words? They
were all for you, replyed Doria; for after he had imbraced me, all that he could obtain ofhis grief was no other than force enough to injoyn me to take care of you;
so that Madam, you may dispose of me as you please, and believe that never any
eloignment begot so great an affliction, as that which I saw in Justiniano: And knew
I not that he loves you more ardently, than ever person did love, I should hardly believe that absence alone could cause so great a displeasure in his soul. The Princess
felt her self then so pressed with grief, as it was impossible for her to retain her
teares, and seeing that she could not hide them from Doria, she said unto him wiping
her eyes; You may not think it strange, that I am not more constant than Justiniano,
since I am as unhappy as he; and that I yeeld not to him in affection. This weakness
justifies his, said Doria, and I profess he were unworthy of the honor which you do
him, if he did not resent, as he doth, an absence that separates him from the onely
person which can make him happy. The princess and Doria had some more such like
discourses, but at last she prayed him once again to return with all speed to Genoua
and for that effect she commanded a Vessell should be made ready to part away presently after dinner. The thing was executed accordingly, Doria departed from her,
and by her direction carried back with him a part of Justiniano's train, the Princess
retaining the other in her service till the return of their Master. The next day Doria arrived at Genoua, where he delivered the departure of Justiniano to all his acquaintance. Every one received this newes with mervail, but amongst others, the
Count, Alphonso, the Marquis, and all the rest o fhis Friends,  were not contented
with merveling, they were extremely afflicted at it. And being all met together at
Leonora's, they talked a long time of this adventure; now though they doubtednot
but that it was in the manner as Doria recounted it, yet was not their reason for all
that satisfied. They found somthing that was strange in this voyage; and condemned Doria for suffering him to go. Leonora and Sophronia were not of that opinion,
and maintained that he had done well, in not hindring him from accomplishing
that which he had promised. For my part, said the Marquis, I do not condemn Doria, for it may be if I had been in his place, I should have done the same thing; but if
I had been in Jnstinianoes, whenas the Princess was sick, I am very sure that I should
not have sought for remedies so far of; and I would have chosen a pilgrimage,
where she might have easily followed me, to the end I might not have been separated from her, after so long an absence. But whilst his friends lamented him, indifferent persons talked of it according to their humors; and as truth alters in going far
from them which speak it, so there were those that affirmed, how Isabella had made
a vow during her sickness never to marry, and that Justiniano out of despair
been so precipitate. Others would have this vow, which Justiniano was gone toaccomplish, to be made during his captivity. Some again said, that the ghost of the
Princess Mother had appeared unto her, and had forbidden her to mary him, so that
being enraged at such a resolution he was gon to the warres. To conclude, they said all things except the truth, which was not known to any but the Princess and Justiniano, who without regarding what was said of him, had his imagination filled
with nothing, but his misfortunes, and the incomparable Isabella.
IBRAHIM: OR THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The second part.The fifth Book.THat we may not aggravate the grief of Justiniano, since it is not the last
that he is to endure, let us land him at Venice, without describing his
unquietness, his sorrows, and his transports. As soon as he was arrived
there, he had no other design but of thinking of his departure from
thence: And whereas there was a great commerce from Venice to all the
Hands of the Archi-pelago, & to Constantinople it self, it was not long before he met
with a ship that was ready to set sayl for the Isle of Chio, so that it was not hard for
him to get passage in her upon pretext of some important affairs, which he said
he had with certain Jewish Merchants of Pera. He imbarqued himself then without being known, and too prosperous in his Navigation, by reason of his eloignment from Isabella, he arrived at this Iland; where he was not long before he
found a Vessell that was bound for Pera, and shipping himself in her, he left the
Ile of Mitilene on the right hand, and on the left that of Lemnos, now called Stalimena. From thence he entred into the Streight of Gallipoli, where stand the two
Castles of Sestos and Abydus, which the Turks name the Dardanilli, and so came to
the Propontis, called Marmora, where he entred into the Bosphorus of Thrace, and
arrived at Pera, where he would not go on land till it was night, because of the
habit which he wore. As soon then as he came thither, he went to the Christian
Religious men that lived there, who were infinitely glad to see him again, for he
was a mighty support unto them. After their first complements, they told him
that his absence had occasioned some mischiefs in the Ottoman Family; but though
he pressed them much to express themselves more clearly, they would not do it,
knowing full well the extreme affection which Justiniano had always born to Mustapha, and the generous Gianger. And then again Justiniano had his mind so filled
with his own misfortunes, as he insisted not much upon those of others. From
thence he lent secretly to an Italian Slave, whom he had left at home, to bring
him a Turkish Habit: Which was done accordingly, and the next day in the evening he entred into Constantinople, but so altered from that which he was wont to be,
as he was hardly to be known. As soon as he was at his Palace, and that he had
received the complements of all his Officers, of whom he was exceedingly beloved,
he went to the Seraglio, although it was not the custom to enter there at such
like hours: but Justiniano, whom henceforward we call Ibrahim, remembred his
old privileges still. The Capigis, which kept the gate, repulsed him somewhat
rudely, but as soon as they heard his voice, they craved pardon of him, and a Capigibassi went and advertised the grand Signior of Ibrahims arrivall. He was at
that time in so profound a melancholy, as less than a name that was so dear unto



him, could not have made him answer him that spake to him; But the name of the
Bassa was not so soon come to his ear, as approching to this blessed Messenger,
which brought him so pleasing a newes, he demanded of him, if it were true
that he was returned,  why he did not come in as he was wont to doe, without advertising him of it? This demand was a commandment to the Capigibassi, who presently caused Justiniano to enter. Assoon as he appeared, Soliman
charged everyone to withdraw, so that seeing himself at liberty, he imbraced him
with so much tenderness, that though his mind was wholly taken up with love and
his miseries, yet found he himself sensible of so great an amity. Is it possible, said
Soliman unto him, that I should receive this consolation in my misfortune? but
am I not to blame, continued he, to doubt that thou couldst not be generous enough to come back again? This doubt would questionless be an injurie, replyed
Ibrahim, had it not proceeded from the impatience of my return, rather than from
a distrust ofthe promise I had made to thy Highness. It is not without reason, said
Soliman interrupting him, that thou thinkest I have desired it, for assoon as thou
hadst abandoned me, victory, fortune, and vertue abandoned me to. I became at
once, both the most infortunate, and the most faulty of all men; and by the malice
of another I lost all that thy friendship had acquired me. I am no more the Solimn,
whom thou thoughtest worthy of thy esteem, and to let thee know the deplorable
estate wherein thou findest me, I have no more to say to thee, but that thou shalt never
understand from my mouth the mishaps that have befallen me, or to say better, the
crimes which I have committed. However I will impart unto thee, that all that which my armes had conquered in Persia, by thy valor and conduct, is revolted;
that Assyria and Mesopotamia are no longer under my power; that Ulama having
been wounded, his Troops have been defeated; that my whole army hath been routed; that Tauris is lost; and that there is no more left me of all thy conquests, than
the bare remerabrance of thy victories. But, ah, how happy should I be, if I had
also lost the moity of mine Empire, and had not made my self unworthy of reigning over the other! Soliman stayed here to fetch a great sigh; and when as Ibrahim
would have answered him, he would not suffer it, but conjured him not to speak
at all to him, save onely to promise that he would never hate him, whatsoever he
understood of his violences. Ibrahim was so surprised to hear Soliman speak in this
sort, as he scarce knew what to answer him. For whereas he had not reflected much
on that which the Religious men of Pera had told him, imagining it had
been some dissension,  which the artifices of Roxelana had sown in the Ottoman family, and none of his Officers having dared to acquaint him with
that which had past, he could not conceive how Soliman should be so faulty.
He answered him then, that he would give his own eyes the lye, even when they
should report unto him that he had committed a crime; that he was too well assured of his justice and vertue to doubt of it; that great Princes might sometimes
appear culpable to the eyes of their subjects,  and yet be innocent in their own
soules; and that in fine, he gave him the same word, which he had so exactly observed, that he would alwaies have the same thoughts for him, as he had formerly had.
He besought him withall not to conceal his misfortunes from him; but Soliman
half comforted with the promise he made him, desired him not to press him to
it, and further obliged him by oath, not to speak of his crimes when he should
come to know them; and should onely believe that Roxelana was the cause of all
his disasters. Ibrahim, seeing how sensibly Soliman was touched, and perceiving
well by his teares that this should be some lamentable adventure, durst not speak to
him more of it; and though he had resolved to cast himself at his feet, when first
he came before him, to demand his libertie of him, hoping he had then been
in some sort accustomed to his absence; yet held he not that a seasonable time,
and that he was to  wait for another occasion. This thought redoubled his grief
yet more, so as that joyned to the melancholy  which his displeasures and miseries had painted in his face, made Soliman observe athwart his teares, that he was extremely changed. I will not ask of thee, said he unto him, whether thy voyage




hath been prosperous or no; for I see so many markes of sadness, both in thy colour and countenance, that feeling not my soul strong enough to support mine own misfortunes, I do not desire to know thine, which would be no less sensible to me, than if they were arrived to my self; for in fine, I love thee still the more. Ibrahim returned no other answer to this discourse, but a low obeisance, and a deep sigh, they continued yet a while in so sad a conversation; but at length Soliman seeing it was late, and believing that Ibrahim stood in need of rest, he dismissed him, after he had told him with a calmer countenance, that as in going from him he had carried away all his good fortune and vertue, so he hoped that his return would bring him back so pretious a treasure again; and that from thenceforward his innocence should not be capable of being corrupted by anothers crimes. Ibrahim being returned to his Palace, found a slave of Ulama's there, who understanding by the bruit which was spread abroad amongst all the Grandes of the Port that he was come, presented himself unto him, and delivered him a letter from his Master, who
had sent him to Constantinople, with order to attend Ibrahims return there, and to
beseech him to save his live in saving Felixana's. For this slave, who had followed
the fortune of his Master when as he changed party, had alwaies had a great share
in his confidence, principally in that which concerned Felixana. This name of Felixana surprised Ibrahim, for he well remembred that this was the maid which had
suffered shipwrack with the Princess of Persia, at soch time as Rustan had forcibly
caryed her away; so that believing her dead, he could not comprehend which way
she should be saved. He entred then into hisc hamber, and causing this slave to follow
him, he opened Ulama's letter, and saw that it was thus; for during the war of Persia,
he had learned that language perfectly enough, both to understand, and speak it.
Ulama's Letter to Ibrahim.WHen as the injustice and tyranny of Tachmas had forced me to seek out a
sanctuary, to shelter my head in from a storm, which love and jealousie had raised
up in his soul, after I had cast mine eye on all the Princes of the Levant, I fixed it on
the Emperor whom we serve. But if I may be permitted to open my heart unto you, the reputation of Ibrahim alone made me desire to be Solimans, and is you remember it, it was
unto you that I addressed my self; it was by you that I received his word; it was you that
presented me unto him; and it is from you also that I a second time expect the life which
you saved in that occasion. But whereas the history of my misfortunes is too long to
be written unto you, know in few wordo, that in protecting the Princess Axiamira,
whom Soliman retaines in prison, you may both perform an action worthy of your self, and
render me the most obliged of all men. Her high birth, her extreme vertue, and her misfortune, are reasons strong enough to carry you to serve her. But after you have satisfied
that supplication, you are further to know, that in the person of Felixana, who partakes in
the miseries of Axiamira, you may render me either happy, or unhappy, and absolutely dispose of my life. So do then that my sanctuary may not be unlucky to me, and that the same
place which I have chosen for my security, may not be the place of my punishment. If you
will take the paines to see Felixana, she will let you understand what our misfortunes have
been, and I doubt not, knowing your generosity, but her teares will touch you more than my wordes, and that her vertue will induce yours to succor us.Ulama.The reading of this Letter touched Ibrahim very effectually; and absolutely carried him to serve Ulama, whom he had alwaies loved exceedingly; and then his
own particular mishaps taught him but too well how to ease those of others. He
willed the Slave, who had delivered him this letter, to be with him the next morning, that he might be a witness of the care which he would have to satisfie Ulama.
After that he retired into his Cabinet, whither having sent for the chiefest of his




Officers, he enquired of the generall report of affairs; but whereas they beleeved
that the grand Signior had told him all, and that he himself was not ignorant of
that which every one knew, he spake very confusedly to him of these things. Howbeit Ibrahim picked that out of his discourse vvhich vvas so lamentable in those
adventures, and which the grand Signior would not tell him. And truly it
almost an advantage to him, to be so afflicted with his own misfortunes, that he
was thereby made the less sensible of those of others, when they were past remedy. For whereas he had alwayes protested the persons whom this misfortune concerned, he had resented it more is it had fallen out at another time. But it is the
custom of the miserable to have one prime apprehension, which in some sort comforts them, to see that they are not the alone unhappy in the World: Nevertheless Ibrahim received this news with tears; and this man continuing to recount
unto him all that he knew, told him that there vvas a Princess prisoner in the
Castle of the seven Towers (which is a place wherein none are ever put but persons
of quality) who was by report very much afflicted. Ibrahim doubted not but that it
was Axiamira, though he had beleeved her to be dead; and having named her
unto him, he confirmed him in that opinion. The grand Visier, seeing he could
learn no more, got him to bed with so much affliction, as he could not sleep all
that night. As soon as it was day his Palace vvas full of visitants; the Beglerbei of Romania, that of Amasia, the Bostangibassi, and all such as were of any
rank in this Empire, presented themselves at Ibrahims rising. After the first complements, some of them spake indeed of the disorders of Persia, but none durst
say any thing to him of that which concerned the Imperiall Hown, or that which
directly regarded Soliman, as well for the respect vvhich they bare him, as for
the fear they were in, lest being unable to discourse of it without tears, the Emperor should know of it, and take it ill that they should entertain Ibrahim
vvith a matter, vvhereof he desired the memory might be extinguished;
Neither durst Ibrahim speak to them of it, having perceived vvell enough,
by the confused relations vvhich had been made him, that Soliman vvas
not absolutely  innocent of the misfortunes vvhich had hapned unto him.
This conversation then vvas spent vvith constraint enough; and the hour of the
grand Signiors rising being come, the grand Visior went to the Seraglio, accompanyed vvith that multitude vvhich usually strive all they can to render themselves agreeable to him, vvho vvas so to their Soveraign. The grand Visier made
hast to the Seraglio, to the end he might have the more time to go the same day
to the Castle of the seven Towers, for to see the Princess Axiamira, who knew
not that she should see her Protector so soon: For at the very same instant, when
as Ibrahim was thinking of her liberty, she was entertaining her self with Halima, the Governors Wife of that Castle, whose inclinations were vertuous enough. She was well stricken in years, so that being sufficiently informed of all
that had past at the Port for a long time before, she could easily satisfie the questions which the Princess asked of her; who daily resenting the effects of Roxelannes
wickedness, could not forbear complaining of her.  The very same day,
Halima going pretty early to bid Axiamira good morrow s (for she loved her very
much) she found her somewhat sadder than ordinary. Shall I never see you,
said she unto her, in a quieter mind? and shall not time work that in your soul,
which it doth in all the World beside? Ah! Mother (for so she called her) answered Axiamira, time vouchsafes not to vvork that effect in me, vvhich all the
afflicted find by it; for could the misfortunes which have lighted upon me be defaced out of my memory (which will never be) others do daily arrive unto me,
and every moment of my life furnishes me with a fresh subject of sorrovv; for
indeed there is no justice in it, that I should survive so many generous persons,
and even mine ovvn hopes. Is there any new mishap befallen you, replyed
Halima; for the extraordinary langor which I perceive in your countenance,
makes me, Madam, thus to demand the cause of it? It is this, answered Axiamira, that as if I had not effectuall miseries enough to prosecute me, my very





dreams do joyn vvith them in it; for during this last night I saw a dreadfull woman, whom I took for Roxelana, that exposed me to the fury of four Tygers, which pursued me all the night long; at leastwise, me thought so. Now though I am not so scrupulous as to stand upon such like things, yet I confess to you, that this unpleasing illusion hath so lively imprinted Roxelanaes true cruelties in my mind, as I cannot be perswaded but that the phantasm, vvhich I savv in my dream, resembles her. Doubtless it hath much deceived you, sayd Halima; for if her soul were as beautifull as her body, she would be one of the perfectest women on the earth. You have so often promised, replyed Axiamira, to recount unto me by what artifices she could come to share the Empire with Soliman, and seduce so great a Prince as he is, that in the anguish wherein I am at this present,
if you do not keep your word vvith me, nothing can charm my grief: For whereas I doubt not but you will acquaint me with some of her wickednesses, which as yet I have not heard of, it would be some comfort to me to understand them,
that I may hate her so much the more, and that I may learn what land hath produced so strange a Monster. I will gladly satisfie you, answered Halima, and as
I have told you heretofore, I know this History very well. For besides the principall things, which no man is ignorant of, I am privy to some particularities,
that are not known to all the World, and that by the information of a Slave,
who was Roxelanaes favourite during that time, but was afterwards turned out of
the Seraglio by her herself, in a phantasticall humour, which makes her that she
never loves any one thing long, and hath ever since lived with me. You shall
hear then that which you desire to know, and vvhich I have learned from this Slave,
and some others who were well acquainted therewith: But in regard you have
time enough to spare, I will intermix the History of her Father, which will not
be unusefull for the intelligence of hers. Axiamira consenting to it caused Felixana to sit down by her, and Halima began to speak in these terms.
The History of Bajazet and Roxelana.THey which know the birth, breeding, and first inclinations of Roxelana, cannot marvail at the last things which she hath done; but contrarily they
would have reason to find it strange, if she had not undertaken any thing to satisfie her ambition, which is the onely passion that reigns in her soul, and for
which she sets all the rest on work; never making use of love, hatred, envy, and
jealousie, but to satisfie that. Now to shew you that she hath drawn this inclination from her Father, who brought, her up, and confirmed her in the opinion,
that greatness was the soveraign good of this life; and that to attain unto it,
vertue and honor were to be despised. You are to know, that in times past Roxelanaes Father was in reasonable good favour with the Emperor Selim, Father to
Soliman; and that after the death of Selim, Soliman also had a great care of his
fortune: And certainly he had rendred him one of the most considerable of this
Empire, had he had as much fidelity for his Master, as he had address for to please
him, cunning to conserve himself, and dissimulation to conceal his vices from a
Prince vvho never had any, and who was never carried to any violence, but by
that of love. But withall it must be acknowledged, that this passion hath often
perverted all his inclinations; or at leastwise hath forced him to do things quite
contrary to the sense of his soul, when as it is peaceable. But to come again
to Bajazet (so was the Father of Roxelana called) after he had by an hundred artifices, which would be too long to recite, arrived at that height about Soliman,
which I have told you; and that there was not any charge whereunto he might
not have raised his hopes: It hapned for his ill fortune, that Soliman sent him
to carry his directions to Scutary, vvhere the Beglierbei of Natolia, who vvas
there at that time, committed to his conduct the fairest Slave that ever was seen,
for to present her in his name to the Sultan, to the end that is he adjudged her



worthy to be of the number of those that are destined to be his women, he should
receive her into his Seraglio. Bajazet accepted of this imployment with joy,
without any other design at that time, than to do a thing which he thought would
not be disagrceable to Soliman, who was then in the prime flower of his age  and
one of the goodliest Princes of the world. But when the day of his departure
was come, and that the Beglierbei of Natolia had put the Slave into his hands
who, asccording tb the custom of those which are to be presented to the grand Signior, was most gorgeously set forth, he was so mightily taken with the sparkling
of her eys, as if the Beglierbei, who was named Amurath, had noted his carriage, he
might wel have known that he was too sensible of the attracts of beauty, to be made
the conductor of a slave, that was able to subject the whole world; for as I have heard
say, she was as fair as Roxelana, whom I have sometimes seen on the terrace of the Seraglio, which looks on the Sea, where ordinarily she is, when publike rejoycings are
celebrated. But certes it must be acknowledged, that Soliman is excusable forloving
her, maugre her artifices, for indeed she is the greatest beauty that imagination it self
is able to conceive. This Slave, of whom I speak, being then as fair as I describe
her to you, and being remitted unto the conduct of Bajazet for so long a journey,
he became so desperately in love with her, as notwithstanding the respect which
he owed to Soliman, and without fear of the chastisements of an offended Prince,
he resolved to possess her, and not to render her unto him; howbeit he resisted so
dangerous a temptation for some time; but his wit, that was but too fertile in inventions, having fornished himself with one, which he believed was good enough
to make his design succeed without danger, he thought of nothing els but of executing it; and behold the way which he took to bring himself to it. This Slave
destined to the grand Signior, had been sold to Amurath, the Beglierbei of Natolia,
a little before Bajazet's arrivall, by certain Pirats, who not so much as knew of
whence she was, though by her pronunciation it was gathered that she was of
Persia: but whereas her language was not understood of any one, and that it appeared also how she understood nothing that was said to her, he judged that she
knew not they were carrying her to the grand Signior. So that using her with a
great deal of kindness during all the voyage, and testyfying much affection unto
her, she seemed to be comforted in her misery, at leastwise she shewed a more quiet
countenance. He took exceeding care then, that she might not understand by signs,
that which she could not understand otherways; and whereas he had been sent upon
a secret expedition, he was but little accompanied, which served very much too for
the furthering of his design. When as they approached to Constantinople, he took
his measures so right, that arriving too late, he seemed to be constrained to lie at
an house that he had some four or five miles from the City, where out of jealousie
he had caused a young woman to be kept, whom he had exceedingly loved; but
indeed his intent was, not to enter into Contstantinople, for a secret reason which I am going to acquaint you with. He arrived then at this Countrey-house, wherein none lived but that woman, an old Eunuch that looked to her, and two slaves
that waited on her, all his retinue being at his house in Constantinople, whereas according to the permission of our Religion he had also two wives, with whom the imperious Alicola (so was she named that abode thus in the Country) could never agree.
She was beautifull, and of a great spirit, but had such a disdainfull look, and so
ambitious an inclination, that there was need of Bajazets humour for one to have had any love for her. This conformity which was between them did not for all
that produce a reciprocall affection; for howsoever he had endeavoured to make
himself be beloved of her for the space of a year and more that she had been in his
hands, yet could he never do it: whether it were that she had a naturall aversion
for him, or that having found two other wives already in his house, which had all
the authority over it, she could not indure to be the last; so it was, that she could not love him. She was a Persian by Nation, and by what adventure she came into
Bajazet's hands I am not able to say; but it sufficeth to let you understand, for the
intelligence of the History which I am recounting, that she was a Persian, and




that as often as he spake to her of his affection, she used to tell him, that when he was grand Visier she would promise him her good will: And her pride was so insupportable, as he had been constrained to separate her from his other wives, being also jealous of her, as I have already declared. Knowing then her ambitious humour, and the love of the fair Slave having almost extinguished that, which Alicolaes rigor had much diminished before; after he had conducted his stranger into a chamber, and given the old Eunuch order to have a care of her, he entred into that of Alicola, who received him after the accustomed manner, that is to say, with a great deal of coldness. And whereas he thought that he should surprise her with that which he purposed to say unto her, he mused a little before he spake; but she without losing of time demanded of him, how long she should continue a prisoner? whether he was resolved that she should alwayes live separated from the commerce of the world? and that she should have no other entertainment but the view of a garden, and the noise of a fountain, whilst his other women, which
were not worthy to be his Slaves, enjoyed all the pleasures of Constantinople? Bajazet finding this occasion so favourable, would not lose it; so that as soon as she had done speaking, he answered her in this sort. Heaven is my witness, fair Alicola, said he unto her, that the discourse which I am going to make you, is rather
an effect of despair, whereunto your rigor hath reduced me, than of any new passion; seeing it is certain, that if by a coldness, which had never example, you had
not extinguished the fire that your eys had kindled in my soul, I had never been
sensible of love but for you only; and I should never have been capable of seeking
to cure my self with an infidelity to Soliman, nor of changing of affection, by forgetting of yours. Alicola believing that Bajazets discourse was but an artifice, to
try if he could take her with jealousie, quickly interrupted him. Have I not told
you above an hundred times (replyed she) that love can never touch me without
ambition? If you were a King, I should be jealous of your glory, and of your
Crown; but of your person, in the estate wherein it is, I should never be: Think
not then that I do give you markes of my love, in giving you any of my jealousie;
love as long as you please, and whom you please, I will not appose it; for in fine, my
heart cannot be touched but with magnificence and splendor, and not with tears,
and sighes. If you will give me leave to speak to you, answered Bajazet, I will let
you know, that I have a mean to satisfie both your ambition, and mine; and,
it is so facile, that it depends on your will alone to be a Sultana, and to render me one of the chiefest of this Empire, and one of the happiest  men of
the world, by putting me in possession of a person that is infinitely dear to me.
This discourse is so intricate (answered Alicola) that if you do not explain
your self better, I shall uot be able to tell you what my will is; but in conclusion I
assure you, that if so unlikely a thing should depend on it, I would soon get out of
your hands, and would chuse rather to satisfie your ambition, than your love; for
if I were in a condition to make your fortune, mine without doubt would be at the
point I would have it, and it may be as I deserve, that is to say extremely great.
Bajazet, who would not displease her, protested once again, that if he had believed
he could have moved her with time, he would never have been carried to that
which he was propounding unto her: whereupon he related unto her, how Amurath had trusted him with a Persian Slave, which he destined to the grand Signior;
how the remembrance of her rigor had made him sensible of the attracts of her
beauty; and at last said unto her, whereas you are no less beautifull than she; are
also as young; are known of few; have the same coloured hair; and of a like statures,
I will present you to the Sultan in stead of her, who questionless will be taken with
that inevitable charm, which I so cruelly have tryed; And in this sort will your
ambition be satisfied, as likewise my new passion; and if you be generous, you will
in that estate remember, how I am born with this conformity of my humor to
yours, to believe that one may do any thing to become great. Let that oblige you
then for your own glory to take care of me; that a man, who hath loved you, may not be in a rank unworthy of that honor. Alicola mused a pretty while, then speak-



ing with a more contented countenance; Is it in earnest, said she to him that you
propounded this unto me, or is it to discover my thoughts? and when as Bajazet
had sworn unto her, that he spake with sincerity; she said unto him in a more cheerfull manner, at length you are come to that pass, as to be agrerable unto me once in your life. But before you rejoyce me further, tell me, I pray you (continued she) what will he say, that gave you this Slave to present her to the grand Signior, when he shall know that you have retained her? He shall not know it, replyed Bajazet, and I mean to carry this design with so much address, that no body
shall ever discover it. The Eunuch, and the Slaves, which serve you, have testified
their fidelity to me in other countries; and for those which are come with me
from Natolia, they cannot so much as suspect that you are not the Slave whom they
have accompanied. For you are not ignorant, that assoon as one is destined to the
grand Signior, she is treated with a high respect, and hath a veil cast over her face
which she never takes off but when she is alone; so that according to this order,
they will not wonder to see you goe out in the same sort; and whereas I purpose
to have you wear the same habit which Amurath gave to that Slave, they will
doubtless take you for her. And for language, you need not but seem as though you
did not understand ours, and make use of your naturall tongue, which is the same
this Slaves is. It was in this fashion that Bajazet made an end of confirming Alicola the hope of her good fortune. And to say truth, it must be acknowledged that
this design was not ill imagined; for he was very sure that Alicola was not known
at all to the great men of the Port, so that if it should happen that any one of them
should be present with Soliman, when he should present her unto him, that would
not discover him: Neither was he ignorant, that those which give Slaves to the
grand Signior, never see them again after they are once entred into the Seraglio,
so that if Amurath should chance to return unto Constantinople within eight daies
after, he could not find out the truth; since the grand Signior thanking him
for his fair Slave, would not describe her unto him. But hear the success of this adventure; The resolution which I have told you of, being taken, Bajazet calles his
old Eunuch; recommends fidelity and silence unto him; and after he had charged
him never to speak of the change which he was going to see, he bids him present
Alicoles richest habit to the fair Slave, with all her jewells, thereby to oblige her
to part with that which she had brought from Natalia, giving her to understand
by signes, that Bajazet would pray her to wear that which he then gave her the
next day. The matter was executed as he desired, the Eunuch performes his commission; and as soon as the day begins to break, Alicola attired herself with care
in the fair Slaves roab, forgot nothing of what she thought would be advantagious to her; and covering her face with a very thick vail, vvhich reached dovvn to her
vvast, she suffred not her self to be seen again, till she came before the grand Signior. In the mean time Bajazet, before he parted, goes to the fair Slaves chamber,
labours to make her understand, that he will see her again shortly, and that in the
mean space, she may command all things there: He calls the Slaves which served
Alicola, charges them to have the same care of the person whom he leaves in their
hands, as they had had of her whom he carries away, and never to discover that
which they had seen. He adds promises of recompence to his command, and threatnings of punishment, if they were so inconsiderate as to reveal the secret wherewith
they were trusted. After this he causeth Alicola to mount into his chariot, where
for the more respect he leaves her alone, and followes her on horseback, accompanied by those which had made the voyage of Natolia with him, who never perceived
but that it was the Salve, for as I have already declared, seeing her of the same
stature, with the same clothes, and her face being covered, they could observe no
difference. In this manner Bajazet arrives at Constantinople, goes directly to the Seraglio, and with a daringness which is incomprchensible to me, gives the Sultan to understand, that he was there waiting to present a Slave unto him from Amurath,
Beglierbie of Natolia, and to give him an account also of the voyage he had made by
his order. Soliman, who was then in an age, wherein such a like newes broughthim



as much joy, as that of a conquest, caused him to enter as soon as he was advertised
thereof. Bajazet conducts his Slave in, and after he had delivered the letters
which he had in charge, he presents her to the grand Signior, takes off the veil that
covers her face, and dexterously places her in an advantagious light. Alicola for
her part, does all that she can to render herself agreeable, and following her inclination, she believed that an hardy and confident countenance would be more
pleasing to Soliman, than a modest shame-fastness. She beholds him then with boldness, indeavours much to incounter his eyes; and whereas she had an haughty and
proud look, she seemed to be rather a victorious Amazon, than an infortunate
Slave. But behold here, great Princess, the caprichiousness of fortune, who mocking at our prudence, makes it oftentimes serve for our ruine. At first, whereas Soliman hath alwaies been very civill, espccially with women, he beheld Alicola
with an attention that gave her hope of the victory: and whereas she understood all
that Soliman said, although she made shew that she understood not the language,
she was ravished to hear Soliman testifie that he was much obliged to the Beglierbei of Natolia, for having tendred him a present of that importance. And when as
this Prince gave over speaking, to consider her the better, she imagined that this
silence was already an effect of love. So that glorious of this conquest, and not able
to retain all her joy in her heart, she could not forbear looking on Bajazet, as it were
to tell him that her victory was assured. This hope proved for all that but ill
grounded, for though Alicola was fair, though she was very young, and that Soliman was so too, this Prince, which could never be vanquished, either in war, or in
love, but onely by gentleness, felt not himself sensible of Alicolaes attracts. He considers her, demands out of what country she came into the hands of Amurath, commends her beauty, professeth that few defects could be found in it, but at length for
conclusion, he tells Ba}az,et, that stoutness did never please him but in war; and that
there was something in his heart which did so mightily resist all the attracts of
this Slave, as he could not be moved with her. Alicola, surprised with this discourse, could not choose but stroke her hand over her eyes to assure her countenance.
Bajazet on the other side, who had never thought that Soliman could have refused a
fair woman, and that feared nothing so much as to see his design fail, was so amazed, as he could hardly speak. Howbeit he had a spirit, that left him not long in
unquietness; so that striving with himself, after he had answered to all the
questions which Soliman had asked him, he assured him that the journey had made
this Slave lose something of her beauty, and that is it pleased his Highness to see
her again a few days after, it may be he would be better satisfied of her. Never a
whit, replyed Soliman, who thinking that Alicola understood not what he said, disguised none of his thoughts. But, continued Bajazet, may I dare, without losing
the respect which I ow to thy Highness, demand of thee what I shall write to Amurath, to let him know what the defects of her are whom he had chosen for thee?
Thou shalt tell him, answered Soliman smiling, that she looks more like a souldier,
than a woman; that she would be fitter to conduct Amazones to the wars, than to
live in a Seraglio; that I should fear her valour would equall mine; that when
I should give her marks of my love, she would give me some of her courage; that
I hold her more capable to make prisoners of war, than prisoners of love; and that
in conclusion, finding something redoubtable in her eys, she hath possessed me
with more fear than desire. I leave you to imagine what anguish the ambitious
Alicola was in, it was such, as forgetting all things, she purposed twice or thrice to
have spoken; and had she not been retained by the thought, that her undoing
would have been annexed to that of Bajazets, if she discovered the trick which
they played Soliman, it is certain that she had given some marks of her resentment. And to make an end of enraging her, aud Bajazet too, the grand Signior
told him, that to doe an act of justice in this incounter, he would put him in
possession of Alicola, willing him to hold this present dear; for, continued he, in
this sort I testifie the esteem I make of Amuraths liberality; I recompence the care
which thou hast taken in conducting this fair Slave to me; and I render her as hap-




py as she deserves to be, since I bestow her on a man whom I love very much and
that without doubt hath some conformity of humour with her, if her physiognomy do not deceive me. How much Bajazet was afflicted with this discourse you may easily conceive, but though this adventure grieved him extremely, yet
was it nothing in comparison of Alicolaes rage, who by the changing of her
colour shewed but too much, that she had understood what the grand Signior had
sayd, if he had marked it. Bajazet having perceived her unquietness, being dextrous, cast himself at his feet to keep him from seeing her, under pretence of rendring him thanks, and testified a great deal of joy for a thing that troubled him
exceedingly. But fearing that in the end Alicolaes grief would break forth, he withdrew as soon as possibly he could. Scarcely vvas he out of the Sultans chamber
but she would have begun to cry out, and give some marks of her choler.
He speaks very gently to her, represents to her, that she would undo her self as
well as him, if by her imprudence she should give any notice of their imposture.
She holds her peace, but not so much to obey him, nor to conserve her self, as because she was so suffocated with choler and rage, that she thought she should have
burst with it. Bajazet re-mounts her into his Chariot, and without going to
his house at Constantinople, he carries her back to the same place from whence
she came. And whereas he rightly judged that she would not much care to conceal her self upon the way, he would take no body with him but he that drove
the Chariot. As long as the journey lasted she was constrained to hold her
peace, because Bajazet, who foresaw that she would say strange things unto him,
rode thirty or forty paces behind her; but when she was arrived at her chamber,
and that Bajazet had followed her, with an intent to pacifie her, what did she
not say against him! against the fair Slave! and against Soliman! I might well
think (sayd she beholding him with contempt) that a Prince unjust enough to
love thee, would be yet more not to love me; but I take heaven to witness, that I
will cease to be Alicola, or I will be revenged either on him, or on thee that is
so dear to him. Bajazet seeing her in this fury, did what he could to appease her;
made as though he had an affection still to her, and would have perswaded her,
seeing Heaven would not let her ambition be satisfied, to live better with him
for the future, than formerly she had done. But she, that was not in an estate to
be vvrought upon, answered him with so much pride and insolence, as judging
it not safe for him to leave her at liberty in his house, he quitted her in choler,
and commanded his old Eunuch to shut her up, and not to let her go out of her
chamber, what crying or violence soever she should use. This order given, he
went to see the fair Slave, whom the Jewels which he had caused to be presented
unto her, had rendred  more tractable. The kind entertainment which she
gave him was a comfort to him against all Alicolaes fury; and comming at last to
consider, that in the manner as the matter had fallen out, he might possesse this
slave without concealing her, as he had purposed to have done; and that Alicola
returning, he might also see her in his hands without offence, since he could say,
that the grand Signior had bestowed her upon him, he was more contented than
can be expressed unto you. But to abridge this discourse as much as possible I
may, you shall understand, that Bajazets submissions put him quickly in possessession of the fair Slave, whom he took to Wife according to our ceremonies;
and that his imposture gave him a year of felicity: For though it vexed him
to be constrained to keep Alicola shut up for fear she should discover him, yet was
it but a light unquietness in comparison of the pleasure which he enjoyed in the
possession of the fair Slave; who almost as soon as she was his Wife, became with
child, which was no little joy to him, for that he had had no children before.
Behold him then the happiest of men, according to his opinion, and in a condition to be no longer in fear. But he knew not that Tygers chayned are alwaies
dangerous, and that one can never be so well secured of them, either with chains or grates,
but that they are still to be feared. As things were in this estate, Amurath was recalled to the Port by the grand Signior, who seeing him, excused the





bestowing of his Slave on Bajazet, and told him some of the reasons, which laughing he had willed should be written unto him: now though Amurath had not
found any such haughty look in the Slave which he had sent, yet did he not for
all that suspect Bajazet of deceiving him. Some days after his return he inquires
after him, and learns that he is seldom at Constantinople, but when the neccssity
of his attendance upon Soliman required it; and that the love of a Slave, which
the grand Signior had given him about a year before, possessed him in such
sort, as he was scarce any longer visible for his friends. This discourse touched
Amurath sensibly; for having had apprehensions for her, which might be tearmed
love, yet being at that time in no very good grace with the grand Signior, he
had surmounted them, out of a belief that he should make an agreeable present
to Soliman; but now knowing that she made up the felicity of another, his first
sparckles began to kindle again. He had without any trouble at all understood
from Solimans one mouth, that Bajazet had this Slave, but not that Bajazet was
enamoured of her. And this news so disquieted him, and moved him in such
sort, as without further delay, and without discovering what design he had in
the visit which he purposed to make, he set forth on his way to go and see Bajazet
in his retirement, with an intent to demand of him onely one sight more of the
fair Slave, who being much indisposed by reason of her great belly, had stayed
Bajazet nine or ten dayes  with her, so that he had no knowledge of Amuraths
return.  The house wherein he was at that time was pleasant enough; in regard of
a fair Garden which opened into a Meadow, that had a little River running thorough it. This Meadow was inclosed with a wall, as well as the Garden, and the
River went in and out of the Meadow by certain grates, expresly made for that
purpose. It was in this delightfull place that Bajazet was walking with the fair
Slave to take the air, when as Amurath arrived there. As soon as the old Eunuch
knew who he vvas, he opened him the gate, sent to advertise his Master, and
would haye had Amurath enter into the house, the more commodiously to abide
his comming; but finding the Court to his mind, he would needs walk therein,
staying for Bajazet. In the mean time Alicola, who had no other entertainment
but to see thorough her window what was done in the Court, hearing it sayd
that it was Amurath the Beglierbei of Natolia, consults a little with her self, gets a
slave whom she had gained, to bring her Ink and Paper, and with very great speed
writes a Note, folds it up as small as possibly she could, and sends the suborned slave
into the Court, to the end that if Amurath did not receive it when she should cast
it down to him, she might take it up, and so keep the old Eunuch from finding it. This order given, she goes to the window, and so luckily for the furtherance ofher design, that Amurath, being weary of attending, had sent the old Eunuch to hasten Bajazet away, or to know what hindred him from comming. Alicola seeing so favourable an occasion, and Amurath being then almost close under her window, she lifted up the grate, and cast the note so dextrously to him, that after it had touched his Turbant a little, it fell upon his hand, and from thence to the ground. But as soon as Alicola had cast out her note, she let down the grate, so as he could but only perceive that it was a woman that had shut it. He imagined thereupon that this peradventure was the fair Slave which wrote upon him, and that she desired to get out of Bajazets hands; in which thought he speedily took up the paper, and being about to open it, he saw written upon the outside,Be secret, and read not this note till thou comest to Constantinople, for it imports thee, and me too.This prohibition had not without doubt been of power enough to restrain his curiosity, had not the old Eunuch come running to tell him, that Bajazet vvould be with him presently, and how the cause of his stay was, that walking forth a pretty way off with the fair Slave, he had been constrained to return very softly leading her, in regard she was exceeding weak by reason of her indisposition. Amurath concealed his note, and perceiving it could not be the fair Slave, because



she was with Bajazet, he could not tell what to think of this adventure. At the same instant Bajazet appeared, and the subborned Slave re-entred into the house;
o assure Alicola that her note was received. Amurath, salutes Bajazet, and the fair
Slave lists up her vail, as her husband and she had before-hand agreed; for they had
been a good while advising as they came along whether it were fit that Amurath
should see her, or no. Bajazet, after such time as the fair Slave had learned our language, had recounted unto her the artifice he had used to possess her, the better, to
testifie his affection unto her. According to the resolution they had taken then, she
pulled up her vail, and said unto him,that she remembred well he had redeemed her
from the Pirates; that she owed all her felicity to him; and that although she held her
self the hapiest creature in the world, yet was she grieved for his sake, that
her  defects  had  kept  her from  being agreeable to  the  grand  Signior.
This woman spoke thus with an apparent sincerity, so well counterfeited, as it
had been hard not to have been deceived with it. And that which rendred her so
dextrous vvas, for that she really loved Bajazet, vvho on his part made an hundred
complements to Amurath, assuring him that he vvas more obliged to him, than
to Soliman, for the possession of a person vvhich vvas infinitely dear to him; since
if he had not had the goodness to confide in him, by giving him the conduct of this
Slave, he had never been master of the happiness which now he injoyed. Amurath
answered to all these civilities with more liberty of mind, than he could have
done, if he had not seen the fair Slave: For finding her somewhat altered, by reason of her sickness and being with child, his renewing flames extinguished in a
moment, and tranquility re-established it self in his soul. Howbeit he marvelled
with himself, that Soliman should find this woman to have a proud and haughty
look; for though she had a great deal of majesty, yet was it quite contrary to that
of Alicola; having very much sweetness and modestie in the air of her face. But as he
knew; that one and the same thing is diversly judged of by the most part of the
world, so he made no great reflexion thereupon; and the sole unquietness about
the note which had been cast him, could then trouble him. And whereas he had no
more to do in that place, seeing the fair Slave touched his heart no longer, he
shortned his visit, and after he had been two houres in the hall, talking of the reasons which had brought him back to the Port, he took leave of the fair Slave; for
as for Bajazet, whereas he had purposed to return that day to the City, he thought
he should be uncivill in not going along with Amurath, who did his uttermost to
keep him from it; judging rightly that if they went together, he should not read
his note till he came to Constantinople; but at length he was fain to give way to Bajazets importunate civility. As they were in the Court ready to depart, Bajazet
stept in a litle to say somthing to the fair Slave, during the which Amurath stood
looking on the window, from whence the note had been throwen him. And whereas Alicola was not gone from it, she changed her first resolution, lifted up the grate,
and shewing her self openly, she joyned the charmes of her beauty to her requests;
for if you have observed it, all our houses are so low, that she was not far distant from him. After she had let herself been seen a while, she saluted Amurath after that
fashion of the Country; and with a suppliant behaviour seemed to demand succour of him in some misfortune that was befallen her. Amurath finding er very
beautifull, made sign to her, that he would do what she would have him, not being
able for all that to comprehend ought in this adventure. But at last Bajazet came, and going away together, they arrived at Constantinople just as it was night. Bajazet waited on Amurath home, where having left him, he gave him the liberty to
satisfie his impatience. He was no sooner alone then but he opened Alicolaes note,
which in few words recounted to him all Bajazets imposture; his love to the
fair Slave; the supposition he had made to Soliman; his treachery to him; and nis
rigor towards her, because (said she unto him) she had a mind too high and generous to love an unfaithfull Friend, a Lover without constancy, and a perfidious Subject.You may imagine now how much Amurath was surprised with this discourse;
At first he knew not whether he should believe Bajazet to be capable of so great a




treason, or whether he should think that this incensed womans spight had made her invent this trick, to be revenged of Bajazet; But passing again in his memory, how the grand Signior had told him at his return, that he had not accepted of his Slave, because he judged her more proper to conduct Amazons, to the warres: than to live amongst women in a Seraglio, and a great number of other things, which did not agree with the fair Slave: this consideration made him open his eyes, and scarcely doubt any longer of Bajazets treason. Withall, he had observed, in the little time that he had seen Alicola at the window, how she had a proud and haughty look, so that this might be she whom Soliman had refused, as she delivered in her note. All these circumstances joyned together, made him resolve to advertise Soliman of it. And though it was indifferent late, and that it was not the custom to come into the Seraglio at such hours, at leastwise if it were not to acquaint the Sultan with some intelligence of importance, yet caused he him to be advertised, that he desired to speak with him about a matter that was necessary for him to know: But Soliman being then in the womens Seraglio, it was impossible for Amurath to see him till the next day. Now whereas Bajazet beleived himself more cunning than all the world besides, he never suspected that he should be discovered; and the opinion he was in that he could not be deceived, served not a little to deceive him. The morning was no sooner come, but Amurath returnes to the Seraglio;
presents himself to Soliman at his rising; shewes him Alicolaes note;
confirmes it to him by all the circumstances which I have declared; and at length
perswades this truth so strongly unto him, as Soliman no longer doubting of it, ordaines him to go the very same day and seize both upon Alicola and the fair Slave;
and to give order for the securing of Bajazet in the mean time. Amurath, exceedingly contented with this commission, parts speedily from the Beraglio to do things necessary for the execution of his design; which could not be so secret, but Bajazet was
advertised, that he was preparing of a chariot to return to his house. The first
thought that came into his mind was, that Amurath was become inamoured of the
fair Slave, and that he would take her away by force. He departed then in all possible
hast, with an intent to remove the fair Slave from the house, and it may be to rid
himselt of Alicola, not knowing in so cross an adventure, in what place to put her
for his own security. Now though he was more diligent than Amurath, and that by
a nearer and a by-way he arrived there a little before him, yet could he not execute
all that he thought to have done; for Amurath, who had not stayed for his chariot,
was gone away with twelve armed men, so that he arrived at Bajazets house, a little after he was entred into the fair Slaves charaber, whom he found still in her
bed: so that pressing her to make her self ready with all speed, and recounting unto her in few words the occasion of his fear, he thought of nothing but of geting
her from thence, and carring her to Constantinople, where he believed Amurath durst
not enterprise such a like violence. But he was very much surprised, when as
his Eunuch came and told him that Amurath, who knew not that Bajazet was
there, required to enter in the behalf of the grand Signior; that he espyed
through a chink of the door that he was accompanied with armed men; and
that to have meanes to advertise him of it, he had told him that he went to fetch
the keies to open him the gate. Bajazet began then to change his opinion;
for he was sure that Amurath durst not make use of the Sultans name, if he had
not been authorised for it. Behold him then in the belief that he was discovered; &
the better to clear himself therein, he would have entred into Alicolaes chamber, whom peradventure he would have killed, but he found that she had shut it.
For when she saw the fright the old Eunuch was in, and that she doubted not but
her note would produce some violence, she and her suborned slave had barricadoed their door as much as possibly they could; foreseeing well that Bajazet would
turn all his fury upon her; as indeed, he did what he could to have broken up
the door; but seeing he could not prevail, and fearing left Amurath should enter,
he took the fair Slave, who had made her self ready in hast, crost thorough the
Garden, to get out at a back Gate, without knowing as then which way to fly;




and the better to amuse Amurath if he should follow them, they shut both the
gate of the garden, and that of the meadow after them. On the other side, Amurath who would  attend no longer, caused the outward gate to be broken open; and scarcely had Bajazet shut that of the Garden, when as he was in the house.
Never was there a greater disorder seen; the fair Slave was all in tears, and fearing
she should not be able to go, by reason of her great belly and her indisposition, she besought Bajazet to abandon her, and to think of nothing but saving himself.
But unwilling so to do, he laboured to give her some hope, and to go as fast
as she could, untill they might get up both on a horse, which the slave that was
faithfull unto him, was bringing them. In the mean time Alicola cryed out that
they would murther her, to the end that Amurath hearing her cryes, might the
quicklier enter into the house, and more easily follow them that were fled. But
at last Amurath being got in, and Alicola having opened him her chamber door,
acquainted him, how from her window that opened upon the Garden, she had seen
Bajazet escape out of a back-gate; and that it were good he should be pursued
with all speed. Amurath presently enjoyns some of his men to do so; and charges
them, if they met with him, not to kill him, howsoever he defended himself. They
do as they are commanded, but finding the gates shut, they were a long time before they could break them open; so that when they were without any obstacle,
they were not in case so easily to find that which they sought for. They separated
themselves, out of the hope to meet with him the sooner, and omitted nothing
of whatsoever they beleeved might be of use for this search. Two of them indeed
incountred the slave which had followed them, and that was resolved not to re-enter into her Masters house; howbeit she served but to turn them out of the way,
which undoubtedly had brought them to those fugitives. For not knowing that
she belonged to Bajazet, they asked of her if she had not seen a man carrying away
a woman? She nothing daunted told them, that they had past by her a little before; that leaving the ordinary road they had taken on the right hand over the
fields. This slave said thus unto them in such an ingenuous manner, as they beleeved her; so that abandoning a way which would have made them incounter
what they sought for, they took another which led them far from it. After so
vain a labor, seeing the night approach, without having any hope to perform that
which had been commanded them, they returned to Amurath, who in giving liberty to the ambitious Alicola, was constrained to lose his own, such power had
the charms of this woman over his soul. For whereas she had remembred how
disadvantageous her proud humour had been to her, at such time as she appeared
before Soliman, she constrained her inclination, and adding artifice to her beauty,
she was so pleasing to Amurath, as he could not resist her. She related to him at
length all that she had written to him in brief, and calling him her Deliverer, with
her eyes full of tears, she aggravated all the rigors which Bajazet had used towards
her, after that the fair Slave was in his hands. She was carefull to let him know,
that Bajazet could never surmount her, either with submissions or menaces; and
casting her self at Amuraths feet, to implore his protection to Soliman, lest he
should punish her for being an actor in the supposition that was made him, she
moved his heart to pitty; and he himself beleeving that this was nothing but
compassion, found it afterwards to be love.  But at last Amurath seeing by the return of his people that he had no more to do in that place, and that his Chariot
was arrived a good while before, he placed Alicola in it, together with the slave
that had been faithfull unto her; and though it was exceeding late, yet they set
forth on their way towards Constantinople. Amurath caused also the old Eunch to be
brought along, that he might be made to confirm Alicolaes discourse.  When they
had marched a pretty while, the night surprised them, which was so obscure and
dark (for neither Moon nor starres were to be seen) as he that drove the chariot,
having never been at this place before, lost his way in such sort, as after he had travelled half the night in hope to find it again, he was constrained to send one to his
Master to advertise him of the fault he had committed. Amurath seeing the Chaè




riot stand still, believed, so little had he thought of his way, and so much had he been taken up with his new passion, that they were come to Constantinople; but he was much amazed when he understood the truth of the matter, and being somewhat angry, he alighted to see if he could know the place where they were: but in fine, it was impossible for him to discern, whether in continuing that way, they should not go further from the City or no. In this uncertainty, he sent two of his men to see if they could finde out any houses, either to lodge there, or to learn of them what course they should hold: but these tvvo having lost their vvay themselves, after they had found that they sought for, could not recover the place vvhere they had left the Chariot. In the mean time, Amurath having no nevvs of those he had sent, and not knovving vvhat to do in so cross an accident, resolved to stay the day break, or the return of his men, before he vvould go on, fearing he should vvander still further, and fall into some precipice. This resolution taken,
he Marshalled all his men round about his Chariot, and advancing forth some Centinells, he commanded them not to speak, nor to
make any noise, that they might the more easily hear any that came to them.
This order given, he placed himself neer to the Chariot, with his Scymitar out
of the Scabbard, to the end he might not be surprized if any body should assault
him; craving pardon of Alicola for the incommodity she received. They had almost past the whole night in this unpleasing stay, and the break of day began already to whiten the clouds a little on the Sun-rising side, when they heard the
trampling of an horse, and suddenly after the cry and fall of a woman. Amurath
being instantly advertised thereof, thought it might be the fair Slave; they went
then afoot to that part where they had heard this voyce, with as little noise as
possibly they could make; it was not long before they heard a man speak, without
distinctly understanding what he said. But at length approaching neerer to them,
they heard how that woman conjured him to abandon her, and to think of nothing
but his own safety; how he saw well that it was heavens pleasure she should be cast
away, and that it was impossible for him to save her. At the same instant that
mans horse having got loose came amongst those of the Chariot, who thereupon
made so great a noise, that Amurath, who thought it was not fit to give Bajazet
(whom he knew by his voice) any leasure to put himself in defence, advanced formost of all to that place where he had heard him speak; but he had not gone far,
before he found the fair Slave at his feet, though he could not well discern her in
regard it was not yet light enough for it; Bajazet did what he could to resist them
that prest him to yeeld himself: And whereas he knew not certainly whether
these were Amaraths or no, he told them that they did not know him, and
that assuredly they were mistaken. But when he heard Amurath bid the fair Slave
not be afraid, for that she should have no harm, his despair was then so extreme,
as leaving those from whom he defended himself, he made directly towards Amurath; but before he could arrive at him, he was seized upon behind by those three
against whom he had sought, who presently took his Scymitar from him. Behold
him then in the power of his enemie, as well as the fair Slave: for thinking to
do the best for their safety, they had hid themselves most part of the day in a wood,
with a resolution to travell all night; but their horse chancing to stumble, the fair
Slave fell, as I have declared, and by her crying out discovered where she was. Amurath seeing how lucky the losing of his way had proved unto him, and that it began to be light enough to discern where they were, found he was not so far from
Constantinople as he thought he had been, so that considering how he might best convey his prisoners to the City, he desired Alicola that she would make the rest of the
journey on horse-back, to the end he might for his own securitie put Bajazet and
the fair Slave into the Chariot. To tell you, Madam, in what a taking Bajazet
was, when he saw Alicola come out of the Chariot, and behold him with a strange
insolence, I dare not undertake, neither the reproaches which Amurath gave to Bajazet for the Treason he had comraitted. But at last, after they had said all that
the divers passions which mastered their souls, inspired them with, Amurath caused



Bajazet to enter into the Chariot, and the fair Slave with him, whose fall had brought her more fear than hurt, for she had but a little bruise upon one of her arms. Alicola mounted then on a horse, and her slave on another; all Amuraths people marched on both sides of the Chariot, and he with Alicola rode four or five pages behind, as it were leading the prisoners, whom he conducted in triumph. They arrived in this sort at the gates of Constantinople, where having
made Alicola alight, he sent her, together vvith Bajazet and the fair Slave to
his Palace, and there after he had caused them to eat, he went to give Soliman an accompt of hir voyage. As soon as the Sultan was advertised of the state of things,
he commanded these offendors to be brought before him, which immediately was
executed. You may immagine the severall apprehensions that all of them had:
Bajazet was in a great deal of confusion to appear before his Master whom he had
betrayed; before a friend whom he had deceived; before a woman whom he had
loved, and that was going to convince him of perfidiousness; but that which most
afflicted him was the grief of the fair Slave. Alicola was exceedingly vexed
appear before a Prince that had despised her; yet did she comfort her self with
the thought that she deprived him of a man whom he loved. Amurath had his
heart filled with his new flames, which made him to be not without unquietness;
for he feared that Soliman punishing Bajazet would also punish Alicola, since she had
helped to deceive him. As for the fair Slave, the fear alone of losing Bajazet
made her shed tears: But at length, they arrived all before Soliman. And whereas none of them durst so much as lift up their eys, it was the Sultans pleasure they
should speak separately; and first he commanded Bajazet to render an account of
his doings. Whereupon falling down on his knees, he spake much after this manner; for I think that I have heard him repeat it over above an hundred times. As
love only hath been the cause of my crime, so love only must also be my defence;
for, my Lord (said he unto him) I know but too well, that reason and justice are absolutely against me. I have contemned the counsell of the first, and I have not been
afraid of the second; I have betrayed a Prince, who is not only my lawfull Prince;
who is not only the greatest Prince of the World; but who, for the greater aggravating of my fault, is a Prince which hath alwaies loved me, and whose goodness hath been so great towards me, as it hath scarce set any bounds to my hopes.
Now is after so great a crime, it is requisite to consider the rest which I have committed, I have betrayed a man that confided in me; I have abandoned a woman
whom I had loved long, and have made her pay very dearly for the testimonies
of my affection, with unheard-of rigour; and to say all, I have abused the simplicity of a Slave which was destined to thee, and depriving her by my artifices
of the honour of being thine, I have wronged her more than all the rest. In fine,
my Lord, which way soever I turn me, I see the marks of my crime; but if notwithstanding it would please thy Highness to consider by what violence my reason hath been forced to carry me to such strange things, thou wouldst doubtless
have some pitty of my misfortune. For is it be true that we have some compassion of a man whose imagination hath been troubled with melancholy, why shall
we not have it of a man whom love hath bereaved of his understanding? What
imports it whether the cause of his folly be interior, or whether it proceeds from
without? so it is, that I have not failed, till love had seduced my reason; till I had
lost my judgement, till my will was no longer in mine own power; till all my
desires perswaded me to the crime which I have committed; till all my senses betrayed me, till occasion favored my design; and till nothing apposing my felicity,
I had not strength enough to despise it, as I was obliged to doe, seeing I could not
enjoy it without being the most faulty of all men. In conclusion, if thy goodness
will permit it, all my crimes shall be comprised in one alone word, I have loved.
I doe not for all that refuse the chastisement which I merit, and to that end I lay my
head at thy feet. Bajazet had no sooner made an end of speaking, but Alicola said
unto Soliman with a bold and firme voyce; as for me, the crime which I have committed is of such a nature, as I can never repent me of it, and the onely grief I




have left me is, that I have committed a crime to no purpose. I know that in desiring the honor to be thy Slave, I wished for a good which I was unworthy of, but I hoped that if my beauty was not able to touch thy Highness powerfully, yet the greatness of my soul might please thee; and I attended from mine eyes, but this onely advantage to be received into the number of thy Slaves, remitting my good fortune to the knowledge, which time should have given thee of the thoughts of my heart. Finally, my Lord, I was shewed a way, which might have led me to glory; I followed it, and would follow it still, had I new meanes presented me to doe it. But if nevertheless so noble a designe deserves chastisement, I may say, that the punishment which I have already received for it is greater than the evill I have done. I will not reckon up the rigors of Bajazet, for I am too generous to aggravate his fault before a Prince, whom he hath but too much provoked; but I will only beseech thy Highness to remember those cruell words, and that bitter jeere, which thou usedst to Bajazet, when as thou didst refuse me: words which I understood but too well, though I made shew that I understood them not. And to punish my self also in thy presence, I am but to call to minde, how thou saidst that I was fitter to conduct Amazons to the warrs, than to live in a Seraglio; that I looked more like a Soldier, than a woman; that thou feared my valour would equall thine; that when was thou wouldest give me markes of thy affection, I would render thee some of my courage; and at last that I was more capeable of making prisoners of warre, than prisoners of love. Ah, my Lord, if thou knewest what a punishment that is, which a vvoman doth resent, that is of an high spirit, and thinkes her self faire, vvhen she heares such like things spoken of her, thy Highness
vvould not be troubled hovv to chastise me, seeing it is certaine that I carry a tormentor about me in my memory, vvhich follovves me every vvhere, and will persecute me eternally. Hovvsoever I am most ready to obey thy Highness, and to
die, that thou mayest be revenged of me, since I cannot live to be thine. Herevvith
Alicola made an end of her speech, and the faire slave began hers; and thoughshe
spake not one language perfectly, yet vvas not her discourse the least couching. The
rest (said she to Soliman) have laboured to execuse their crimes to thy Highness, but
for me, vvho may not black mine innocency voluntarily, since I cannot partake vvith
Bajazet in his crime, I must at least wise partake with him in his misfortune. I must
(I say) indeavour to make mine innoccncy appeare, only to obtaine pardon for his
crime. But the misery wherein I find my self is so great, as I cannot think to save him
this way, but in rendring him the more faulty. I must say then, my Lord, that when
Amurath put me into his hands, I knew not that I was destined to thy Highness;
he conducted me to his house, and retained me there without ever suffering me to
understand so much; and having rendred me all the testimonies of love and respect; which I could have desired from a man that had not had me in his power,
I acknowledge that his affection moved me; that I gave him mine; and that in the
wretched condition, whereunto fortune hath reduced me, I esteem my self happy
to be his wife, I acknowledge also, my Lord, that he hath confessed his crime unto
me since; but whereas this crime was a testimony of the affection he bore me, and
that our mariage had made me unworthy of being able to repair his fault, by
restoring me into thy hands, would not thy Highness have blamed me for coming
to accuse my husband of a fault, which he hath not committed but out of an excess
of love? After this, my Lord, I do not think thy Highness can doubt of mine innocencie; and not doubting of it, I dare hope that thou wilt not punish me more
cruelly than Bajazet, by letting me live, and putting him to death; and that contrarily thou will have the goodness to grant me his pardon. For, my Lord, what
reason would there be, that I who am absolutely innocent, should have the same
destiny that the guilty have? Is it not enough that fortune hath forcibly carried
me from out of the armes of my parents, to put me into the hands of Pirats? that
I have been sold for a Slave; and to say all, that she hath deprived me of the
honor of being thine; but that by the order of the greatest, and most equitable of
Princes, I should also be deprived of an husband, who is to me instead of Parents, of




country, of treasures; and who in conclusion makes up all my felicity? Consider,
my Lord, in this occasion, how his crime and mine innocence are linked so together, as thou canst not be just towards him, without being unjust towards me,
and how the other way, thou maist be just towards me, and clement towards him.
But to carry presumption as far as it can goe, or to say better, the confidence which
I have in thy goodness, I humbly beseech thee again, that as it is I who have robbed the unhappy Alicola of Bajazet, and that in consideration of me she hath suffered so much, so thou wilt likewise in consideration of me pardon him. But if nevertheless thy Highness is otherwise resolved, grant me at leastwise the grace that I
may die with Bajazet. The fair Slave mollified the heart of Soliman; and as hee was
about to have spoken, Amurath made hast to say to him; I know very well that I am
the accuser of these offenders, and that in some sort too I am a party with them; so
that, my Lord, I am to be their defendor also in this occasion, and doe most humbly beseech thy Highness to pardon them: It is an act worthy of Soliman not to be
revenged on them that are in his power; and the true felicity of Kings is without doubt to make up that of their subjects. It will be long of none but thy self then,
if thou be not satisfied, in rendering us all four happy. For, my Lord, if thou leavest the possession of the fair Slave to Bajazet, he will certainly esteem himself happy, as well as she. As for me, my Lord, is the purpose which I had to tender thee
a present, that I thought would be agreeable to thee, merits any recompence, as thy
highness hath beene pleased to assure me, I beg the pardon and possession of Alicola,
who by what I have noted in her discourse, is more sensible of ambition than love;
so that injoying by thy bounty, a rank considerable enough about thee, she will
have means to be satisfied, and I too; seeing I am constrained to acknowledge that
my opinion is not like unto thine, for the beauty of Alicola; and that I have been
a whole day the most amorous of all men. Soliman seeing him about to proceed,
would not permit him, and reaching his hand to him smiling, I am glad (said hee
unto him) that we are not of the same opinion for beauty, since thereby I am enabled to satisfie thee. And for thee, said he to Bajazet, I remit the offence thou hast
committed against me; but know, that if Love combatted for thee in thy discourse, the goodwill which I have alwaies born thee hath far better defended
thee in my heart. Then turning him to the fair Slave, he commended her generosity,
and the affection which shee carried to Bajazet, assuring her that he would never
trouble her rest. As for Alicola, he told her, that to render the conquest, which she
had obtained, more worthy ofher, and more capable of contenting her, he would
make Amurath grand visier. After this he said to Bajazet, hee was sorry that for
the preservation of his authority, and for example sake, hee could not let him live
at Constantinople; but in regard it was impossible the matter should not be divulged
by those who had accompanied Amurath, he must needs resolve to absent himself
from the Port, for fear least this importunity should give others the boldness to
commit the like, or greater faults than this. That he did not condemn him to go
out of the territories of his Dominion, but he would have him abide in one of the
Islands of the Achipelago, and there lead a private and particular life. To represent unto you the joy of these four persons, would be an impossible thing, however
so it was, that after they had rendered a thousand thanks to Soliman, and that he had
made them all recount the severall thoughts which they had had during the
time wherein he had  been deceived by them, they departed away. Amurath conducted Alicola home to his house, where he married her the next day;
and Bajazet went to give order for his affaires. Behold, Madam, how this
matter passed; for my husband, who as you know is older than I, hath understood it from Bajazets own mouth, whose friend hee had been a long
time together. Have not you told me (said Axiamira) that you knew all
these things from a slave that was Roxelanaes favourite, whom she afterwards
turned away, and that hath served you a great while? Yes, indeed, answered Halima, for so much as concerned Roxelana, in particular; but whereas her
History depends on her father Bajazets, I was willing to recount it unto you: And
you your self will doubtless judge, that it was not unusefull for the intelligence




of that which you desire to know. You have very much obliged me, replyed Axiamira; for certainly this adventure deserves to be known; but let us come, I pray you, to that which regards Roxelana in particular. I shall tell you then, said Halima, that after Bajazet had well thought of the place that he was to goe and inhabit in, he chose the Town of Chio, which beares the name of the Island wherein it is built; it is situated in the Archipelago, and being only tributary to the Grand Signior, is certainly one of the most pleasant Islands in the world, either for the fertility thereof, for the sweetness of the climate, for the beauty of the buildings, for the curtesie of those that inhabit it, or for the liberty of conversation, which is greater in that place, than in all the rest of this Empire. The cause of this liberty is, for that this Island is inhabited by all sorts of Nations, so that of the diversity of their customs a perfect one is made which holds a little of all the rest. It was in this bliss-full abode then, whither Bajazet vvent to find out a refuge, after his banishment. I have told you he had to Wives at Constantinople, but whereas he loved none but the fair Slave, he gave them a piece of mony, and restored them to their parents, according to the permission of our Laws, and carryed along with him only the person whom he loved. He laded a vessel then with his goods, and in the end arived prosperously at the Isle of Chio; where he was scarcely setled, when as the fair Slave was delivered of a daughter, whom afterwards he called Roxelana, and is the same whose adventures you desire to know. Bajazet, as I have declared to you, was of an ambitious humor, so that after he had for a while led an idle life, and that a long possession of the fair Slave had quenched all those
flames in his heart, ambition began to kindle hers again, and re-assumed her former room in his soul. He termed the place of his retreat a prison; he bore his exile unquietly; and calling to remembrance all the great hopes which he had had,
he was troubled with a continuall remorse for what he had done, and anguish
of mind that never abandoned him; for the more he sought how to re-establish himself, the less likelyhood he saw for it. In the mean time the
little Roxelana grevv up still, and shee might bee about four yeares old,
when as Bajazet considering her upon a day, in the midst of a great assembly,
where every one admired her springing beauty, and took pleasure in beholding
her; he heard one ask her what she would most desire in the world? she straight answered without sticking at it, that it should be to make her father rich and powerfull.  This was no sooner spoken by her, but Bajazet comming as it were out of a
dead sleep, took a resolution, which I will relate unto you. And consider I pray
you, how a weak beginning hath many times a long and dangerous consequence!
the little Roxelana was not more beautifull that day than at other times, hovvbeit
her fathers anguish had been so great, as one would have thought he had never
taken notice that she was the fairest and wittiest child that ever had been seen; for
as soon as he had opened his eyes, and that the acclamations which were given to
Roxelana had made him perceive she was a Master-piece of Nature, his heaviness
diminished, and al his industry and care was no onger, but to endeavour to make her
wit as dextrous as her beauty was charming. And truly it was not hard to bring
her to what he desired; for as she had all the beauty of her mother, so had she
all the inclinations of her father. And whereas they are persestly discerned in
that innocent age, she that acquainted me with all these things, and that lived
with her both at that time, and afterwards in the Seraglio, hath told me, that in
her tendrest infancy, she had an imperious spirit, which could not endure to be
controlled by any body. She would alwaies be mistris of all the other little girles
that played with her; and her very play was dextrous still, and malitious. She
told me further, that she was never seen to weep, nor ask for pardon, neither did
ever person tell a lye with more confidence. She was curious to know all things,
and one of her greatest delights was to see beasts fight together. This cruesl humour vvas for all that so well concealed, by the gentleness of her look, as she
seemed to be the most amiable child that ever was beheld. I leave you to judge,
Madam, whether Bajazet finding so toward a disposition to receive his instrusti-



ons, did not make up an accomplished work. He did not teach her to be vertuous,
but onely to be carefull to seem so. In her youngest years he laboured to frame
her to a gracefull behaviour, and to entertain her alwaies with great hopes; a
promise her that one day she should be rich,and that she should have stately Palaces, to the end that he might insinuate into her betimes, that Greatness was the soveraign good: and that so desiring it with passion, she might be the more easily carried
afterwards to do all things necessary for the acquiring of it. When she had attained to the age of eleven or twelve years, and that she had a forward wit, able to
apprehend his maxims, he began to speak more plainly to her, and to tell her that
being born with no common beauty, she was to make herself an extraordinary
fortune. But as it was the office of the eyes to obtain conquests, so it was the office of the wit to conserve them. That all things which are gained by violence, are
to be retained by address. That it was time for her to learn to know her
self, and to know others; to the end that being accustomed to apply her mind to the
divers humors ofthose she conversed with, she might one day be capable of thoroughly disguising her thoughts: that she was not to live so out of a base compliance
and with no other design than to please; but only to attain to some thing that was
great. With such like discourses as these did Bajazet instrust Roxelana, whose inclinations were but too much carried to dissimulation. Nevertheless it is true, that these
dangerous lessons, which she willingly learned, were combated by the wisdom of
her mother, whom I have alwayes called the fair Slave, because my memory could
not give you her name. This woman was good and vertuous, and did all that
she could to make Roxelana resemble her, as well in the qualities of the soul, as in
the features of the face: which Bajazet perceiving, and having in vain forbidden
her to reprehend her daughter for her bad conditions, he fell into such a hatred of
her, as he could not indure her; and having looked upon her in former times
as the object of his love, he considered her no longer but as an obstacle of his ambition. But to keep her from destroying that which he had established in the young
heart of Roxelana, he thought it would be requisite to make her hate her. And
to that end, he dextrously perswaded her, that her mother standing yet upon her
beauty, was jealous of seeing hers surpass it; that her reproving her, was an effect
rather of hatred than affection, and that therefore she should beware of hearkning
to her Remonstrances; there needed no more to stifle all the motions of Nature in
so depraved a spirit, and to carry her to insolency. Roxelana, to obey her father,
was to do no more than follow her own humour, but to content her mother, she
was to fight with all her inclinations. The first was the easier, and made her hope
that it would produce great things; and the other being harder, and without other recompence, than that which gives us the satisfaction to do what we ought;
she had not much adoe to resolvc upon the despising of vertue, and imbracing of
vice. Behold her then abandoned to her own sense, and to the evill counsells of
Bajazet, and the fair Slave almost reduced to be a Slave to her daughter, who within a while used her so cruelly, that she fell sick with grief upon it. Now to make
a tryall of what she could do in dissimulation, as long as there was any company
with her mother, she seemed respectfull, affectionate, and obedient; but as soon as
they were gone, she mocked openly at her goodness, and with an hundred bitter
jeers, struck a dagger into the heart of her that had given her life. This prudent
woman was for all that so good as not to publish the cruelty of her daughter, who
in the opinion of all them which saw her, was as vertuous as beautifull. Bajazet
seeing so fair a beginning in Roxelana, caressed her extraordinarily, and by this
cruell proceeding still advanced the death of her, whom he had loved so much
before. At last, that deadly moment, wherein she was to leave this life, being arrived, this infortunate one called to her the Slave, who hath recounted all these
things unto me, and that had wit and some vertue, and secretly commanded her
not to abandon in her daughter after her death, because it might happen that this first
heat of youth being over, she might peradventure be capable of following the
counsell which she had given her; that for this effect she prayed her to doe two things; the one was, not to bewail her death, for fear it should oblige Roxelana
to turn away; and the other, that she should not directly oppose her will, for fear of incensing rather than correcting her; but to wait upon her till she was of a more reasonable age. This Slave promised to perform all that she desired, and indeed kept her word with her. Presently thereupon this woman dyed, and left Bajazet in full possession of Roxelanaes heart, who with feigned tears testified so much grief for the loss of her mother, as she moved all them to pity that saw her, though in her mind she was very joyfull. She lived two years in this sort after the death of her mother, being then about fifteen; during which time she was beloved of all the young Gallants where she dwelt; she perswaded them all that she loved them, without ingaging her self for all that in any thing; and taking delight in giving them great hopes, to put them in to despair afterwards, she made some dye with grief; others killed one another by means of the hatred that she sowed amongst them, and the jealousie which she her self gave them, when as they importuned her, and that she would be rid of them. And all this with so much address, as all the world believed her to be innocent of all these crimes, and attributed it to nothing but the excess of love which her extreme beauty had begot in the hearts of all those that beheld her. But at length being arrived at the age which I have noted unto you, Bajazet called her to him one day in private; and after he had told her, that the time was then come wherein he was to reap the fruit of his travells, and she to put in practise that which he had so often taught her, to the end she might that way become the chief of all the Orient. 
Roxelana answered him, that
he was but to explane his intention unto her, and then he should be sure to have it
executed. Whereupon he recounted all his History to her, which she had never
understood well before, and after that elevating his voice, and taking her by the
hand, Thou seest then, my dear child, said he unto her, that love did heretofore undo my fortune, and that a Slave which I took from the grand Signior, took from
me all my hopes, and banished me from my Country. But to find out my re-establishment by the same way that caused my undoing, love, and a voluntary Slave
shall restore me into grace with Soliman. And not to conceal my thoughts from
thee, I purpose to present and give thee to the Grand Signior, leaving the rest to
fortune, and thy address. I know that this Prince being advanced in age, is become yet more sensible of love, than he was fifteen years ago, when as he was but
nineteen; for out of the design which a long time I have had, I have carefully informed my self there of. He is still young, he is handsome, he is full of spirit, he
is couragious, he is liberall; and what is most considerable, he is one of the greatest
Princes of the world. If thou makest good use of the lessons which I have given
thee, continued he, and of those which I will give thee, thou mayest become Sultana, and crown the rest of my days both with honor and wealth. Bajazet stopping
here, Roxelana answered him according to his desire, and assured him, that ifshe
could be received into the Seraglio, she would make no doubt of the rest: and for
a conclusion, she so prest him to part away, that in a little after having found out a
Vessell which was bound for Constantinople, he irabarqued himself in her with his
daughter, and the slave to whom her mother had recommended her; who had so
insinuated her self into her affection, as she had often believed her in things which
contraried her inclinations. At length they arrived at Constantinople, and went to
the house of one of Bajazets antient friends, where the day being come, in which
he purposed to present Roxelana, her slave helped to dress and set her forth, being
glad to see her going out of the hands of Bajazet, for that she was perswaded there
coald be no place in the world where she would not be better than with him. But
whereas the habit of the women of the Isle of Clio is more advantagious than ours,
it was in this fashion that she was attired; and I have heard it said, that one could
not see any thing more magnificent, or more beautifull than she was in that estate.
She had on a wastcoat of silver'd Damask, with two rows of Diamonds set upon
a welt of curled cloath of gold, which bordered it all about; the petticoat was of
the same stuff, and adorned in the same manner, and according to their fashion
plaited very thick both before and behind, and smooth on the sides. Her petticoat



came not but to the middle of the leg, because in the Town of Chio they much ffect to show the handsomeness of it, as well as that of the foot, which is very neat;
for they ordinarily wear high Cork shooes of fine leather of the Levant, sharp at
the toes, and all gamished over with Goldsmiths work enammelled. Roxelana
also an apron of cloath of gold, a little shorter than her petticoat, and which was
tyed behind with two silver strings, whereat hung two tassells of gold. She had
upon her shoulders, as it were to fasten on the sleeves of her wastcoat, a great
many of ribbands of divers colours, and athwart her neck a scarf of Tiffany hanging baudrikewise, and closed together with Diamonds, in such sort as all her neck
was seen, about the which she had a chain of Pearl, with a little jewell of Emeraulds. The attire of her head was of cloath of silver, plaited with a great deal of
address, and inriched all over with Pearls and Diamonds; This head-tire was of
a round form, and standing up very high behind; and to hold it on the better,
she had according to the use of the Countrey a little gold fillet with which it was
made fast behind on her neck, where hung two tassells of the same in the midst of
a great number of knots of severall colours, which fell carelesly upon her shoulders. And on the cop of her forehead, descending a little into a peak, she had a
dressing of Cobweb Lawn streaked with gold, which also was fastned behind, leaving
her hair hanging down in curls on either side of her cheeks. In this manner was
Roxelana attired; but before he led her to the Seraglio, Bajazet would give her his
last instrustions; wherefore he took her aside, and willing her to hearken attentively unto him, he spake to her much after this sort; for the slave, who hath told me
all these things, over-heard him without his perceiving it. It is time, my daughter, for me to discover unto you the means whereby you may arrive at the point
which I desire. I have indeed said something unto you at severall times, but now
I am resolved to hide no part of a Science from you, on which I have a long while
meditated. Before I shew you then the ways you are to hold, I must propound unto you the term of your pretensions, which ought not to be only to please the
Grand Signior; to make him in love with you; to be a Sultana, as many others;
but indeed to become his wife. For although none of the Othoman Emperors since
Bajazet the first hath been maryed, because they would not share their power; yet
ought not this obstacle smother your desires, but contrarily it ought to inflame
them the more. You perceive then, continued he, that in so great a design, there
is need of a great deal of prudence to carry one well unto it. The generall precept which I will give you upon your entring into the Seraglio, is, never to do,
nor to say any thing, which tends not to this design, either direstly, or indirectly,
and to remember, that all the ways which may conduct us whither we would go,
are permitted us by true reason. Never amuse your self then in consulting, whether that which you do be just; but indeed whether it be advantagious for you.
Consider not, whether you hurt any, but whether that which you do may serve
your turn. For in fine, you go to a place where you will meet with envyers, and
enemies, and no sooner shall Soliman be striken in love with your beauty, but you
will be hated of all the Sultanaes. Prepare your self then to know how to make
a right use of all these things; and so do, that the hate which is born you may
destroy them, who would destroy you. Never undertake to be revenged, but when
you can absolutely do it; yea, and if it be possible, revenge your self so as you
may not bee suspected for it. Moreover, Alicolaes adventure makes me remember, that Soliman is pleased with modesty, wherefore so carry your self,
as it may be very much seen in all your actions; and beware of trusting any
body. Regard every one as your enemy, caress all your fellows, and love none
of them ; make not their defects known to Soliman, but in seeming to excuse them;
be carefull to let him understand by some other the malice which they
bear you; bee liberall to them that are about the Grand Signior; be
very submissive and pleasing to him, untill you know that you are absolute
Mistris of his heart; for in fine, you must serve, that you may reign; but then,
you must change your stile, and by some artifice, which you may invent according



to the time and occasion, oblige him to mary you. And after that, whereas I have told you heretofore, how that which is gained by violence, ought to be conserved by address, in this incounter, that which you have gained by address, must be conserved by violence. You are to undo all those that would hurt you, and not to spare either Iron, fire, or poyson, to maintain the power whereunto you shall be arrived. In the mean time, to facilitate the matter, and to procure you friends out of the Seraglio, it will be requisite for you, when you are once there to win Soliman with tears of tenderness to render my fortune happy, assuring him that you cannot be perfectly contented, so long as your father is not so too. If you behave your self in this sort, said he unto her, you shall be sure to be very quickly the chiefest and most powerfull of your sex, and the happiest creature that ever was. Bajazet had no sooner made an end of speaking, but Roxelana said to him smiling, that to do all those things she had no need of his counsel, but was only to follow her own inclinations, which would carry her to more yet than what he had told her. 
He embraced her then wholly ravished with joy to
see her in this resolution; and before she departed, she assured her slave, that ere it
were three dayes she would get her into the Seraglio for to wait upon her, as
indeed she failed not to perform it accordingly.  But at length Bajazet conducted his daughter to the Seraglio, and caused Soliman to be advertised, that there
was a man attending to present a slave unto him, without letting him know who
he was. For whereas the Officers had been all changed since his departure from
thence and that he had not been seen in sixteen years at Constantinople, he did not
fear he should be named to Soliman. The matter fell out as he desired; and the
grand Signior, very luckily for his design, hapned to be in the best humour of the
world, by reason he had received news of a great Victory which he had obtained
over the Christians. Wherefore he presently commanded, that this slave, and he
which brought her, should enter. When Bajazet first appeared, Soliman knew him
not, whether it were for that time had altered him, or that his eyes and heart
were so fixed on the beauty of Roxelana, as he did not consider him. But as soon
as Bajazet had cast himself at his feet, and that he had begun to speak, the tone of
his voyce made him call him to mind: He did not interrupt him for all that, but
looking still on Roxelana, he hearkned to Bajazet, without turning his head towards him. Roxelana on her side appeared with so modest a Majesty, and so
charming a sweetness, as it had been very hard to discern the motions of her soul
in her eyes, and not to be strucken in love with such powerfull attracts. But
whilst Soliman takes in so sweet and so deadly poyson, Bajazet spake to him in these
terms; I know very well, my Lord, said he unto him, that it is a crime in me to
present my self before thee, after I have been banished; and that if thou beest not
the most indulgent Prince of the World, thou wilt not permit me to give thee
reasons for it, which may excuse me. But since thy silence seems to accord me
so much, I shall let thee know, my Lord, that this young Slave whom thou seest
here, and whom I present to thy Highness as a thing that appertains unto thee,
is the daughter of that fair Slave whom I presumed to retain for my self, though
she were destined to thee. Reject her not, my Lord, since though she be the daughter of an offendor,yet is she so too of a woraan that belonged unto thee, and whose
vertue hath passed into her as well as her beauty. In fine, it is a sacrifice, which
I offer up unto thee, to expiate the crime which heretofore I committed, and that
also which at this present I commit. Consider, I beseech thee, that having robbed
thee of one slave, it is but just that I should render thee another; but with this
difference, that the former was thy slave by violence, and that this same is a voluntary slave: That the other had been in the hands of Pirates, and that this same
hath been alwaies conserved as an offering, whereof the purity ought to deface
the blackness of my faults. But is nevertheless thou judgest her unworthy of this
honour, I am most ready to give thee both her life and mine own, rather than resolve to live any longer absent from thy service, and to spend the remainder of
my daies without contributing ought to thy glory. When Soliman saw that Baja-zet had made an end of speaking, he cryed out, reaching forth his hand to him,
O happy was that theft of thine, since it was the cause of thy now rendring me
an inestimable treasure! For I profess unto thee, that I never saw any thing so
beautifull as thy present. Then turning him to Roxelana; and for thee, fair maid
sayd he unto her, be assured that in losing a father, thou findest a lover; and that
in consideration of thee alone, I will give Bajazet his liberty again, and restore
him to all his former charges and honours. Roxelana made no other answer
thereunto, than with a profound respect; but Bajazet was so over-joyed with
so happy a beginning, as he thought he should never have done rendring thanks to
Soliman. At last, after some other speeches, the grand Signior caused one of the
Governesses of the women of the Seraglio to come to him, and remitted her into
her hands, with order to lodge her alone, and in one of the fairest lodgings in
the womens quarter. And out of a particular grace, he commanded to be given
unto her the very same day, great store of jewels, apparell, sumptuous houshold-stuff, and mony, with six slaves to serve her. And whereas she seemed to regret
one which she had, the Grand Signior caused her to be instantly brought in unto
her. But I had forgot to tell you, that when she was separated from her father,
she affected to seem good and sensible; the tears came into her eyes, she looked after him as far as she could see him; and with this feigned testimony of naturall affection, she touched the heart of Soliman yet more; for whereas her tears were
without bitterness, they did but make her shew the fairer. But consider, I pray
you, how deceitfull and ill-assured humane prudence is, especially when it works
against reason and equity. Bajazet had all his life-time been mastered by two
mighty passions, love, and ambition; the first made him lose his fortune, when as
he betrayed Soliman, and the other made him lose his life; as if the divine Justice
would not let him enjoy a good, which he had acquired by a crime: For he had
not been eight days re-established in his charges, and Roxelana in the Seraglio,
when as being gone to visit the Bassa of the sea, vvho was then at Pera, where the
Arsenall and Magazine of all Maritime things were, he arrived there just as they
were ready to try fifty Cast-pieces, which were to be used in some shipping that
was shortly to be set forth. And whereas the Bassa would be present in person at
this tryall, it was in this employment that Bajazet found him. After the first
complements, the Bassa told him, how that which he was going to do, vvas as much
to congratulate his happy return to the Port, as to acquit himself of the duty of
his charge; whereupon he commanded fire to be given: But to shew that the justice of heaven would punish Bajazet, the first piece burst asunder, and in the midst
of two thousand persons, and some four paces from the Bassa of the sea, a shiver of
that Cannon picked him out, and carried him away, with such violence, as he
was almost reduced into powder, so strangely were his limbs dispersed. And that
which is yet remarkable also in what I deliver, is, that he was the sole man, I do
not say of them that were killed, but of them that were hurt, and hovv that was
the onely piece that burst in sunder. Behold, generous Axiamira, in what manner Bajazet enjoyed his hopes, and the recompense which he had for all his crimes.
The news ofhis death was soon carried to the Seraglio ^Roxelana shewed a great deal
of sorrow for it; and out of a sense of interest she was really grieved thereat.
But in a few daies, the markes which the Grand Signior rendred her of his affection
comforted her. For whereas she did not regret him, but because she had believed
him to be usefull for her greatness, when as she hoped that she might attain thereunto without him, she quite forgot him; Yea and was glad that she was discharged
of the care of his fortune, and to have nothing to think of but her own. Roxelana
had not been fifteen daies in the Seraglio, but she so absolutely possessed the Grand
Signior, as none of the rest of the Sultanaes could pretend to a favourable regard
from him, but by speaking well to him of her; or that he knew they had been
somewhat gratious with her; which possessed them with no little jealousie, and no
less spight. But that which vexed them more was, that they could not find occasson to missay of her amongst themselves, whereby they might at leastwise have






been eased with this weak remedy. For she was excellently fair; she seemed extreme gentle; she had an agreeable and entertaining wit; she was civill to the Sultanaes; liberall to the Slaves; most respectfull of Soliman; and in all her actions affected an extraordinary devotion. She lived a while in this sort, without any cross in her good fortune, and with so much satisfaction to Soliman, as there was never any joy equall to that which appeared in his humor. But at length the Sultanaes seeing that the love of the Grand Signior was not allayed by the enjoying her, and that contrarily it augmented daily, they combined together, and forgetting all the jealousie and secret hatreds which they had had one against another, they indeavoured to destroy the person that destroyed them. She that incited them the most thereunto, was the chief of the Sultanaes, the mother of Mustapha, who at that time was brought up in the Seraglio, and was then about six or sevean yeares old. This wo- woman, who had a great and generous spirit, could not indure to see, that she, who had given Soliman a Sonne, and a successor to the Empire, should be less considerable than Roxelana. It was by her interposition then, that all the other Sultanaes joyned with her, and promised never to omit any oportunity that might annoy Roxelana.
This counsell, or to say better, this conspiracie, could not be so secretly
made, but that Roxelana, by her liberality to the Slaves, which brought her presents
from their Mistresses, and that much affected her, was advertised thereof. But hear, I
pray you, in what manner she opposed this storm vvhich vvas rysing up against her,
and I am sure you will acknovvledge, that she was then as ingenious, as she hath
been vvicked since. This conspiracy nothing daunted her; she seemed neither more
unquiet, nor more pensive; and all the change vvhich she brought to her life was,
that she never saw Soliman, without speaking some good of one or other of the Sultanaes. She praised the beauty of one, the humor of another, the gracefulness of this,
and the stature of that; but particularly she seemed very much to esteem of the mother of Mustapha; and so caressed that young Prince, as it had been impossible at
that time to have foreseen by the apparences that which hath since fallen out. And
whereas she knew that the mother of the Sultan had a great power over him, she
wonne her wholly to her self. Now Roxelanes design was, to destroy by this artifice all the ill which the Sultanaes could say of her to Soliman. For said she, when
he shall see that they, for whom I do so many good offices to him, would hurt me,
he wil have them in horror, and think the better of me. The matter failed not to succeed as she had imagined it. For one ofthe Sultanaes, whom Roxelana had the most
commended, having understood that she had sent a little coffer full of jewells out
of the Seraglio, which is not perraitted in that place, she advertised Soliman of it,
who scarcely hearkning to what she said, called her ingratefull and disacknowledg- ledgine; and without obliging Roxelana to the justifying of herself, he sent her a
present of importance. After this, none of the Sultanaes durst venture upon any
such like adventure. But Roxelana, who was not contented with keeping them from
doing her hurt, and that placed her supremest felicity in doing hurt to others
absolutely gained to her three Slaves, two Eunuchs, and suborned also two of the'
Sultanaes; who went jointly together and advertised Soliman of this secret counsell'
which was held against Roxelana, without making shew for all that of her knowing any thing of it, Soliman recompences them for this advice, commands them
not to speak of it; and whereas this crime was too generall, he resolved to punish
them who had committed it, and by one onely way, which was to make Roxelana
richer, greater, and more happy than she was. He sends for her, recounts unto her
that, which she knew better than he, by telling her what had been done against
her, and in conclusion assures her, that nothing can destroy the affection he beares
her. Roxelana, after she had heard this discourse, intreates Soliman to pardon them
this crime who had committed it; and with a false generositie so powerfully
charmes the heart of this noble Prince, as it was more at the disposing of Roxelana, than of Soliman himself. But to come to the end of my discourse, a little while
after she herself with childe, and the time of her lying down being come,
she brought forth Soliman a sonne, who was named Mahomet. Untill then she had





never thought of any thing but maintaining her self; but when she came to consider
that Mustapha would reign one day, and that according to the custom of the Empire, her son should be strangled; this awaked her former ambition, and all her designs tended no longer but to be speedily the wife of a Prince, of whom she was the
absolute Mistress; to the end that in this illustrious estate, she might the more easily destroy Mustapha, for her son to reign. And mark a little whereunto ambition carried this woman, who thought already of setting the Crown on the head of
a child, who knew not as yet that he was living! howsoever, it was not out of the
absolute power that she had over the mind of Soliman, that she attained to her desire, but by an artifice which I am going to relate unto you. She knew that in
one of the books of our Religion the Soveraign is forbidden the possessing of a free
woman; and she knew also that in another, a Slave is not permitted to build either
Mosque or Hospitall, or to do any other thing that may be available for the other
life. Upon this foundation she built her design; and knowing that the Muphti
carried a great stroke vvith the Grand Signior, she vvon him vvith presents, vvhich  she  sent him secretly; and so being sure of his assistance
vvhen shee should have need of it, behold hovv shee proceeded therein.
She sent to the Muphti, who is the man that takes cognizance of all matters of Religion, to let him understand that she had an extreme desire to build a Mosque, and
an Hospitall, where all poor Pilgrims might be lodged and fed; but before she
would undertake it, she would fain know whether this would be pleasing to the
Prophet. The Muphti answers according to her desire, and as she knew that he
would answer; that the thing would be pleasing to the Prophet, but absolutely
unprofitable for the second life of her soul, because she was the Grand Signiors
Slave, and that whatsoever she had being Solimans, and not hers, all that sheshould
do in this estate would be to the advantage of the Grand Signior, and not of her.
This answer received, she feigns to be exceeding melancholick, she deprives her
self of all her ordinary delights; and when the Grand Signior visits her, she lets
herself be surprised still in some muse, whereat she seems afterwards to be somewhat grieved, and to strive to break her self from it. At last she playes her part
so dextrously, as the Grand Signior began to be troubled upon his observing this
change of her humour. At first he was contented to ask of her what it was that
made her so sad? but she answering that it was an effect of her temperature, it put
him into further pain. He inquires of the slaves that serve her, whether any one
hath given her cause to complain? they answer, that they know of none; but
how it is true, that their Mistress had been for a good while so melancholick, as
they did not think she could live long in that sort. For indeed when Roxelana
was alone with them, she always seemed exceeding sad, to the end that being the
first deceived, they might the more easily deceive others, fore-seeing rightly, that
Soliman would inquire of them that served her, what she ailed. But because she
would not be always in constraint, she shut herself up the most part of the day in
her Cabinet; and this unaccustomed retirement served yet very much to make it
be credited that she had some hidden grief. Soliman being advertised then of all
these things, began to fall into extreme unquietness: he conjured Roxelana toacquaint him with the cause of her sadness, and not to conceal the secrets of her
heart from a Prince, who had given his so absolutely to her; he told her, that if
anyone had wronged her, he would revenge her for it; and in conclusion, that
there was nothing which she might not obtain from him. Hereunto she answered, that the respect alone which she bore him, kept her from obeying him, and that she
had always rather die than displease him. So pressing a discourse failed not to
work the effect which she attended from it; Soliman was mightily moved with it,
and beholding her with eyes, which shared with her in her grief, he swore that he
would not part from her till he knew what it was that troubled his felicity. She
resists yet a while, he presses her the more, and speaks to her with such earnestness,
as she thinks it was high time to discover her self. She falls then at his feet, beseeches him to pardon her, and at last frames a discourse filled with artifice, where-





by she causes him to comprehend, that having had a design to imploy the treasures which he had given her, for the honor of the Prophet, and her own salvation, in building of a Mosque and an Hospitall for Pilgraims, she had understood that she was incapable thereof, because she was his Slave, whereas for that purpose one ought to be of a free condition. That she confessed unto him, how the fear of the second life had so seized upon her soul, as she doubted she should not be able to answer the two black Angells; and how the thought that she could never be able to do any thing for her salvation, troubled her in such sort, as it was impossible for her to hope for one hour of tranquillity in all her life. Soliman hearing her say thus, lifts her up, complains for that she hath so long concealed so just a desire from him, and in the end assures her, that within a short time she should be contented.
As indeed the next day he sent her a Patent of her Affranchisement, which he had
caused to be drawn up in the most authenticall form that is used amongst us, and
withall ordered so much money to be delivered unto her as she vvould demand.
Behold her then the most contented woman that ever vvas, seeing so prosperous a
beginning of her enterprize. She thinks no longer in apparence of any thing but
her buildings; she communicates her designs to Soliman, vvho on his side esteemed himself very happy in having been able to cure the mind of Roxelana of so black
a melancholy. But when as a little after he vvould have her come and pass the
night vvith him at his lodging, he vvas much abashed to see her, being alone vvith
him, cast her self at his feet, and vvith her eyes full of tears, and a voyce interrupè
ted vvith sighs, hear her say unto him; I know full vvell, my Lord, that thou art
the Master of our goods, of our bodies, and of our lives;  and that thy vvill
ought to be absolute Mistress of ours. But, my Lord, it novv concerns the Ordinances of Heaven, the Precepts of our Prophet, and the Lavv vvhich vve profess,
vvhich vvill not permit thee to dispose of me being free. Give heed then, my
Lord, to that which I say, and draw not the indignation of Heaven upon thy head,
for a crime whereof I should be the cause: For rather than I will resolve to commit this fault, I am capable of taking away mine own life, so much do I fear lest it
should prove unlucky and fatall unto thee. As long as I was thy Slave, I never resisted thy pleasure, knowing that both divine and humane Laws commanded me
unto it: But now that I am free, and that therefore I cannot be thine, without
transgressing the Law, I think that I do as I ought in this my opposing thee. Soliman was so surprised with this discourse, as he knew not what resolution to take.
His passion was strong, but his respect to matters of Religion was also very great,
and the tears and prayers of Roxelana fortified it in such sort, as he resolved to obey the Law, if it proved to be so. He sends for the Muphti, propounds the question to him, and commands him to examine it well. But this man who had already been made, and instrusted by Roxelana, tells him that this question was fully
resolved; that the Soveraign could not possess a free woman without marying
her, or without committing an horrible crime. He reports the passage of the Alcoran to him, fortifies it with reasons which he had premeditated, and at last leaves
Soliman perswaded that he cannot possess Roxelana without sinning. Belhold him
then, in a grief which is not imaginable: For Roxelana 
had chosen out a time when as he was in the violence of his love. The respect of the Law retained him, the heat of his passion sollicited him, and the example of his Predecessors, and the Maxims of State, kept him from satisfying himself by a lawfull way: For never since the ignominy which Tamerlan caused the wife of Bajazet the first to suffer, none of the Emperors had maried, for fear lest by such a like adventure, their enemies might a second time do that wrong to the Majesty of the Empire. What shall I do, said Soliman, in so cross a conjuncture? If I possess Roxelana without marying her, I shall be faulty towards her, and culpable towards heaven. If I do mary her, I shall make all my Empire to murmure at it, I shall break an Order established by my Predecessors with reason, and introduce a Novelty, which it may be will cause some revolt in my Estates. Now again, if I do not mary her, and resolve not to possess her injustly; will Soliman be satisfied, after he hath sa-




tisfied Religion, and reason of State, which ordained him so to do? Ah, no,no he
cannot live without Roxelana, and whatsoever comes of it we must be inseparable;
and without offending Heaven, I must render her happy in contenting my self. If
my Subjects murmure at it, I shall tell well enough how to bring them to their
duty again, and teach them to submit unto the pleasure of him, to whom they are
but Slaves. This resolution being taken, he imparted it to Roxelana, who, as you
may judge, rejoyced excessively at it. Howbeit she in appearance received this
news with a great deal of moderation, saying, that she thought herself unworthy
of so great an honor. But within a few days after Soliman maryed her publickly with a solemn pomp. She sent presents to all the Sultanaes, but the Mother of
Mustapha, to decline the seeing of her that day, feigned her self sick. Now to do
her the more honour, and to declare her more absolutely Queen, and Mistris of
all the Sultanaes, he caused agreat Hall to be most sumptuously furnished, where
at the one end he made a Throne of four steps to be erected, covered all with
cloth of Gold, and two Cushions of the same stuff, upon vvhich sate hee
and Roxelana, who had a Crown on her head, and her Gown set all over
vvith Diamonds. Upon the second degree of the Throne vvas the Mother of
Soliman, who loved Roxelana as her self; and upon the two lowermost, sate the
sisters and daughters of the grand Signior, for he had three by two of his slaves.
Things being in this estate, all the Sultanaes came one after another richly apparalled, to do obeysance to Roxelana with an high respect; and for a mark of
their dependance, they all brought magnificent presents,and placed them some four
paces from the Throne where Roxelana sate. Divers of them brought Maunds of
Gold full of Flowers; others, Vases of Emeraulds replenished with Essences;
some, little Coffers, garnished with precious Stones, and filled with Perfumes; and
after they had left their presents at the foot of the Throne, they went and placed
themselves in order on both sides ofthe Hall upon their knees, as it were to doe
homage to the new Queen. All these Sultanaes having remained so a while, an
hundred young children, which are brought up about the grand Signior, came
out of a particular grace to the womens Seraglio, where this ceremony was performed; and being arrived in the Hall, they began to dance, and to sing somewhat
to the glory of Roxelana; and being retired, all the Sultanaes went to kiss her
Robe, and then her hand, which she held out unto them. And for a mark of their
slavery, and her liberty, she gave to each of them a chain of Diamonds; and so returned in the same order as they came, carrying in their hearts as much envy and
jealousie, as Roxelana had joy. As for the mother, the sisters, and daughters of Soliman, they conducted Roxelana to the Grand Signiors lodging, where they left her
in the height of her felicities, and retired to the old Seraglio thorough a door that
opened near upon Solimans chamber. Untill then fraud and artifice were the only things which she had employed to arrive unto the point she had desired; but
alass, how well did she in this estate remember the bad lessons which her father
had given her! when as he had told her, how that which was gotten by address,
ought to be conserved by violence. For she no sooner saw her self the Wife of Soliman, but she would needs share with him in his power, and be acquainted with all
the affairs of the Empire; she banished from the Port such as were not pleasing
to her; and for fear left the Muphti, whom she could not make greater than he was,
should reveal to some one, that her good fortune was not so much an effect of her
devotion, according to her own saying, as of her artifice; it was thought that
she suborned one of his slaves, and caused him to be poysoned; for he dyed suddainly; and some have conceived that he himself was aware of it, because that having been sick not above an hour after supper, when as he could scarce speak for
the violent pains that he felt, with much adoe yet he sayd, that Roxelanaes Crown
cost him his life, whereupon he presently dyed. After she had secured her self on
that side, she turned her eyes to Mustapha. I think I have told you, that in the
first year of her being in the Seraglio she brought forth Soliman a sonne, named
Mahomet, but I am to let you understand further, that in the four following, she




had also three sonnes and one daughter; the next after the eldest was called Bajazet, the third Selim, the last Gianger, and the daughter Chameria. She had been then five years in the Seraglio, and four the Wife of Soliman, when as they spake of sending Mustapha forth from his Mother, because he was twelve years old, which is the furthest age wherein men are permitted to abide in the Sergalio. And whereas Roxelana saw how this young Prince promised great matters, she feared it would not be alwaies so easie to destroy him, who alone could keep her children from reigning, when he should be out of the Seraglio, as when he was in her hands; whereupon she plotted his death, and for that effect, the same say that he was to depart, and hte last meal that he was to make in the Seraglio, she wrought in such sort, as there were served up unto him certain fruits that were poysoned, and which he exceedingly loved (at leastwise the slave, who recounted these things unto me, beleeved so much) but whereas the Prince was very much grieved to part form his mother, and to see the extreme sorrow she was in for it, he never throught of contenting his palate; and perceiving that his mother did eat nothing, he besought her not to afflict her self so much, and that she would eat something for the love of him. 
Saying so, he presented her with some of thoso impoysoned fruits, which
were prepared for him, he little dreaming of any such thing. The poor afflicted
Mother, thinking it a crime to refuse her sonne, takes the fruit which he presents
her with, and to content him, eats it vvith her eyes all bathed in tears. But the
infortunate Mustapha knew not that he gave death to her who had given him
life; and that this crime vvhich he committed so innocently should be one day
severely punished in his person, though he were never accused for it: Having been
in this occasion, like those innocent offerings, upon whom in times past amongst
certain Nations the crimes of all the people were charged. The poyson which
Roxelana had caused to be prepared was slow; to the end it should make no noise;
and that when Mustapha should be out of the Seraglio, and Soliman should be told
that he was sick, she might make him beleeve, that change of air had caused this
malady. But destiny would not have the matter go so; for in fine, not to prolong this discourse any further, Mustapha went out of the Seraglio in good health,
with no little grief to Roxelana, vvho had been advertised that he had not eaten
of the impoisoned fruit. As for the mother, that never troubled her; for though
she fell sick the very same day, and dyed a moneth after, no body beleeved there
was any thing extraordinary in her death; because Roxelana had caused it to be
bruited, how the sorrow for Mustaphaes eloignment was the cause of it, and how
since that day she had never been well; as indeed she lyed not: and this was so
generally beleeved, as the sick Sultana her self sayd so much to them that came to
visit her, she never suspesting any wickedness. Behold, Madam, Roxelanaes first
persecution of the Prince Mustapha: Indeed it is true, that he was not sensible of
it, for he never knew any thing of that which I have told you. How you must
not imagine, that this violent desire which she hath alwayes had to destroy Mustapha, whereby her children may reign, is a sense of affection for them; she hath
not so legitimate a design, and the only thought which she hath, is to remain the
mother of an Emperor after the death of Soliman; because she knows very well,
that this quality gives alwaies a great credit to those which pofsess it; and brings
them into veneration amongst us. I should never have done, if I would relate all
her wickednesses unto you. But at length Mustapha in spight of all her artifices
lived, was brought up with great care, maryed an excellent Princess of the bloud
of the antient Kings of Capadocia, whom he loved passionately, and proved, as you
know, as excellent a Prince as ever was. And the hate which she bore him could not
keep the Prince Gianger from having as much good will for him, as she had aversion.
But to strengthen her self still the more, as soon as her daughter had attained the
age of thirteen yeares, she got Soliman to mary her to the traitor Rustan; who for all
that hath not forborn often betraying her self, for he seekes his own greatness and
not hers. Behold, Madam, what the first wickednesses of Roxelana have been for as
for she rest, you know them but too well. And it may suffice, that I have onely shewè



ed you her inclination. This woman never incountred person that opposed her
violences, but the grand Visier Ibrahim, who ever since he hath been amongst us,
hath had so much power with Soliman, as she could never, he being the most vertuous of men, make any o fher wicked devices succeed, either against him, against
Mustapha, or Gianger (for he loved them both dearly) untill such time as for our
ill fortune, he went away, some six monthes agoe, upon a secret expedition whereof all the world talks diversly; for seeing the mischiefes which have arrived by his
absence, it is feared lest she hath caused him to be murthered by the way. It being
very certain, that if he had been here, the rage which she had long shut up in her
heart, had not broken out so deadly as it hath done. Alas! said Axiamira interrupting her, how much hath he whom you speak of been wished for in vain of the
Prince Gianger! And how often hath he spoken to me of him with a world of
praise! But mother, continued she, you have recounted so many things unto me
as Soliman me thinks should be above an hundred yeares of age, and yet he seemed
not so old unto me on that unhappy day wherein I saw him. It is, answered Halima, because I having enchained two Histories in one, and begun to speak of Soliman
at the age seaventeen yeares, your mind, by the length of my narration, and the
number of things which I recounted, hath thought that which you say. But if you
please, I will let you see the contrary: Soliman was seaventeen yeares old, when Bajazet put the supposition of the Slave upon him; at the end of sixteen yeares, when
Roxelana was presented unto him, he was thirty and three, she fifteen, and Mustapha seaven: So that if you are ignorant of all these things, you will find, that Roxelana
is not above seaven and thirty yeares of age, Mustapha was nine and twenty, Gianger eighteen, and Soliman is fifty and four, though he seem not to be more than forty. And that which is strange in this Prince is, that he is at this present of a more
amorous humor, than he was in his younger yeares. I shall not have much ado, answered Felixana, who had not spoken yet, to believe that which you say; and I know
but too well by mine own experience, that there are men in whom age doth rather stir up passions, than appease them. With such like discources, Halima indeavoured to divert the Princesses melancholy; but remembring that she had not eaten any thing of all that day, she went to give order for the serving up of dinner,
On the other side Ibrahim, who had not forgot the design which he had, and the request of Ulama, after he had spent part of the morning at the Divano, which was
held that day, and the rest of it with the Grand Signior, without speaking of any
other thing than the war of Persia, he returned to his Palace, there to take along
with him the Slave which Ulama had sent to him, that he might carry him to the
Castle of the seaven Towers, whither he went with an intention to ease the miseries of others, since fortune would not let him find a remedy for his own.
The end of tbe fifth Book.IBRAHIM: OR, THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The Third Part.The First Book.When as Ibrahim arrived at the Castle of the seven Towers, where Axiamira
and Felixana were prisoners, he commanded the gate to be opened to him,
as they used in times past to do, when he came to visit Prisoners of State.
But whereas the Governor of that place had not understood of the grand
Visiers return, there had been no order taken for his entrance; howbeit
his people had no sooner advertised him of his being there, but he came to
let him in himself, and to crave pardon for making him stay so. Ibrahim,
having accepted his excuses, sent him to advertise Axiamira of his arrival, and to know of
her, whether he might have the permission to see her. This man failed not to obey the commandment he had received, but this news so surprized Axiamira, and the imagination, that
she was ready to see a man, whom Prince Gianger had loved so much, troubled her in such
sort, as being but in a weak and languishing state of health, the violent motion of her thoughts
had like to have made her fall into a swoon. Not finding her self then in case to entertain
Ibrahim, she sent her dear Felixana to excuse her unto him, and to desire him to pardon her,
if she were constrained to retard a thing, which she desired so passionately. Felixana acquited her self of this commission with a great deal of address, and entertained Ibrahim at Italima's lodging. But after the illustrious Bassa had received Axiamira's civilities, and had
told Felixana, that coming but to offer her his service, he should have been very sorry to incommodate her, he perceived the unquietness, which appeared in the face of Felixana. For
whereas he had commanded Ulama's Slave to follow him, she had no sooner saluted Ibrahim, but casting her eyes on this Slave, she changed colour. And scarce harkening to the Bassa's complement, she considered this man, whom she was perswaded she knew, without
daring for all that so much as beleeve absolutely it was he whom she thought it was. Ibrahim seeing her in this uncertanity, was willing to draw her out of it, and addressing his speech
unto her, as he led her to the window; I perceive very well, amiable Felixana, said he to her,
that this Slave is not unknown to you, but to take you out of the doubt wherein I see you
are, I will let you know, that this Slave hath not changed his Master, and that his Master too




hath not changed his Mistress. And to confirm unto you, continued he, that the valiant Ulama is still the Lover of Felixana, read this which he hath done me the honor to write me; to
the end I may afterwards the more easily perswade you, that I came hither with a purpose to
render you all the services you shall desire of me. Saying so, he presented her with Ulama's
Letter. I know, my Lord, said she unto him, taking it, that I shall do you wrong in desiring
to have mine eyes confirm that unto you which your words have assured me of; but my
Lord, I am so accustomed to see my miseries every day increase, and Fortune for a long time
hath so obstinately persecuted me, that you are to pardon me the doubt I am in of my happiness; since it is in me rather an effect of my sense, then of my reason. Whereupon she opened the Letter, which straightway she knew to be Ulama's hand; and having read it over
with a great deal of satisfaction, Ibrahim caused the Slave which he had brought with him
to approach, who casting himself at Felixana's feet, would have kist her robe, but she reached forth her hand unto him, and commanded him to rise. Halima seeing all these things
would have gone out of thechamber, but Felixana, called her back again. It
is but just, said she unto her, that as you have been the onely consolation which I have found
in my misfortunes, so I should not conceal from you the succor which Heaven sends me after
many miseries. Halima obeying Felixana's pleasures drew neer again, and saw Ulama's
Slave, after he was risen, give her a Letter, and then say unto her; You shall see, Madam, by
that which my Master writes you, that I have order to recount unto you all that you desire to
know of his life; to render you an account of his actions; and to assure you that this illustrious Bassa, said he, pointing to Ibrahim, is the onely Protector that you can have. Of this
protection she is so sure, replyed the grand Visier, as she cannot doubt of it without doing me
an injury. In the mean time Felixana unsealed Ulama's Letter, and having opened it, found
this written.
ULAMA'S Letter to FELIXANA.FOrtune not contented to make me suffer all your miseries in acquainting me with them,
hath yet for my supremest mishap kept me from being able to succor you, or at least-wise
to partake in the calamities wherewith you are overwhelmed. For though I have the Arms
of the Empire still in my hands, and that I cannot quit the Army, without incensing him
whom I am to obtain your liberty; yet feel I that it would have been impossible for me, not
to have gone and layd my head at his feet, thereby to have obliged him to take compassion of
our misfortunes; But the wounds which I received in the last fight I was in, utterly depriving me of the power to perform that, all I can do, is to wish that the blood which I have
spilt in the service of Soliman, may at least-wise spare your tears. Nor do I despair yet of
so great a happiness, if the illustrious and generous Ibrahim doth undertake to protect you, as
I have besought him to do, and as I dare not doubt but he will. Confide then in him for all
things; acquaint him with all our past felicities, that he may have the more pity of our present adversities. And to say all, follow his directions exactly, seeing his generosity is the onely thing that can yet make me desire life, by tbe hope it gives me to see yeu at liberty again; this Slave, which I send you, can tell you what a one that hath been which I have led, ever since that fatal day, which separated me from the incomparable Felixana, and can also assure you that I will adore you eternally.
ULAMA.Felixana had no sooner made an end of reading this Letter, but she desired the Bassa
should see it, though out of civility he would not; telling her that he would rely more on her
word, then she had done on his, and that he would beleeve that which she would please to
let him know. But she answered him, how it would not be just that he should do so, and therefore besought him to read it. Whil'st Ibrahim obeyed her, Felixana enquired of Ulama's Slave, whether his wounds were dangerous? And when he had answered her, that they
had been so. but were past the worst, and that is it had not been for one in his leg he might
have quitted his bed, she asked him other questions, until such time as the grand Visier, having
done reading of Ulama's Letter, said to her with a great deal of civility: It is for you,
Madam, to furnish me with means to serve you, and to acquaint me with all your misfor-




tunes, to the end that knowing them, I may the more easily finde necessary remedies for them. But I know, fair Felixana, that this is to constrain your inclination, and that you had rather talk with Ulama's Slave, then renew your sorrows by calling them to remembrance; but to confort you, I will promise to leave this Slave with you, until we have some pleasing news to send Ulama. Felixana thanked him for this favor, and assured him, that she had no greater desire then to obey him, though the remembrance of her miseries would augment them; and that it may be they would afflict him too. For my Lord, said she unto him, my adventures are so intermingled with those of the Princess of Persia, and of two Princes whom you have dearly loved, as I am constrained to recount them; seeing it is certain that mine make but a part of theirs. 
Ibrahim was glad to see her in this resolution for he hoped he should
know that by her which Soliman would not tell him; so that causing her to sit down, and
Halima by her, he summoned her to the performance of her promise, which she accomplished in this manner.
The History of the Princess AXIAMIRA, ULAMA, and FELIXANA.THat which you desire to know of me, generous Ibrahim, hath cost me so many tears
and sighs, that if I did not strive to turn away my thought from the last adventures of
this History, it were impossible for me to relate the beginning, where you will finde nothing
but the hopes of an extream felicity for me. But to take things from their first source, and
to render my discourse more intelligible, I am to tell you, that Scach Tachmas, whom we
call the Sophi, otherways King of the Persians, remained a widower almost as soon as his
wife (who, as I have heard say, was an excellent Princess) had brought him two sons, Ismael,
and Mahamed, whereof the last is blinde; and two daughters, of which the one is the
Princess Axiamira, or to say better, the wonder of her age; and the youngest, named Perca, is of an indifferent beauty, of a malicious humor, and of a minde uncapable of any kinde
of friendship. As for Ismael, it might be said, that as he hath no great virtues, so he hath no
great defects, and that he is in the rank of those persons, who do almost pass away their lives
so, as they can hardly be known to live, if their quality did not make it appear that they are
in the number of the living. Now for Mahamed, the same cannot be said of him, but contrarily it seems, that Nature hath deprived him of the light of the day, to make it shine the
more in his minde: For whether it be that this privation of sight is the cause of its better recollecting it self, and operating with the more activity; or that his memory, which is so marvelous in him, as it may be thought he hath never forgotten any thing, doth furnith him with
that which renders him agreeable; so it is that his conversation is so charming, as one can never be weary of it. 
But that which is most excellent in him is, that he is exceeding virtuous,
and that his passions, though violent, have never surmounted his reason. Behold, my Lord,
what the royal Family was, when I was brought to the Court, which was at that time in
the City of Tauris. My Facher had always been considerable enough in this Monarchy, and the
Sophi, to testifie the esteem he had of him, had made him Governor of Strabat and Mazanderon, two very fair Towns, which are scituated on the bank of the Caspian Sea. But whereas my Father had marryed the sister of the Governor of Tauris, it was by his means that I
was put to Axiamira, with a many other maids of a condition equal to mine, which were
divided between those two Princesses; and were with them, as one might say, rather to
help them to pass away the time, then to do them any service. Axiamira might be about
fourteen years of age, and I fifteen; and whereas she was younger then the Princes her Brothers, Mahamed, as I think, was not far from sixteen. But to let you first know all the persons of whom I am to speak in this History, I shall tell you, that there was at the same time
in the Court, one named Deliment, whose birth was not very noble; but who had, by means
of his high spirit, and extream riches, so wrought himself into the Court, and good grace
of the Sophi, as there was none but was afraid to be in ill terms with him: I say afraid, because it is certain that no man desired his friendship, but for fear least his hatred should be prejudicial unto him; and truly it is not to be marvelled if one could have no other opinion of
him, for he was insolent, ambitious, undertaking, beleeving there was scarce any thing
worthy of him, easily offended, never pardoning, and that which rendred all his bad inclinations more dangerous, was, that he had a great wit. Now if Deliment were of this humor,



Ulama was opposite to him in all things, for his birth is noble, as being the chief man of Caramania; his courage is without brutishness; and whereas you have not seen him since
he was infortunate, I conceive I may be permitted to tell you what he was during his felicity. When I arrived at the Court nothing was spoken of but the valor of Ulama; for it was
a little after the War of the Azemites, where having done wonders, and to say all been the
cause of the Sophies carrying away the victory; to recompence him for this great action, he
made him Satrap of Canamania at two and twenty years of age, and gave him his sister in
marriage, whom Ulama espoused rather out of obedience, then out of inclination; it being certain that this Princess, as the incomparable Axiamira hath oftentimes told me, had
nothing recommendable in her but her birth. And indeed, as if Heaven had found this marriage unjust, a month after it was accomplished she dyed of a burning Feaver: And whereas
it is the custom of the Kings of Persia to have all the royal Family lodged in one and the same
Palace, Ulama, as brother-in-law to the Sophi, was lodged there too; so that though the
women live very straitly kept all over Persia, yet left we not for all that to have a great deal
of liberty, and to lead a life happy and pleasant enough; having in the same Palace, the two
Princes and Ulama, whom we saw as much as they pleased: for the Sophi had ordained that
the Princesses lodgings should be open to them when they would, I and that all the Satraps
young sons might see and speak to us when as they accompanyed the Princes. Things bing in these terms at such time as Ulamaes wife dyed, tsie Princesses went by the commandment
of the Sophi, a little after the Funeral, to give a visit to Ulama, whom I had scarcely ever
seen, because I had not been above a month at the Court, and that during the same the Princess his wife had still been very sick. I have already told you, my Lord, that Ulama
had not loved her, and I put you in minde of it, to the end you may not think it strange if in this
occasion Love took his beginning in the time of a mourning, which had not drawn any tears.
Axiamira and Perca made this visit with ceremony, the young Princes conducted them,
or to say better, Ismael held up Axiamira, andPerca led Mahamed, who, as I have told
you, was blinde from his birth, though he had the fairest eyes to see to in the world; but he let
himself be guided with so much address, and went along with so confident a pace, as there was
no body but would have been deceived in him. All the maids of honor followed after, as also
six Ladies of quality, reasonably well stept in years, which had been placed about the Princesses,
to have a care of their behavior, and ours. And truly it must be acknowledged, that Feasts of
rejoycing do seldom shew any thing more goodly to behold, then the mourning which is in
this Court; for whereas black is not in use there but when one mourns, if any of it be seen
about ones apparel, it sufficeth; nor is it exempted from magnificence. We were all then attired much after one; and to excuse Ulama so much the more, for letting himself be touched with those few charms which you see in my face, I will describe Axiamira's habit unto
you, that you may know what mine was; for she had already taken so great a liking to me,
as she would have no other difference between her apparel and that I wore, but great store of
Diamonds which she caused to be added thereunto whensoever she pleased; and withall, since
that fatal day did beget love in four such different hearts, it will not be amiss for me to recount
unto you all the particularities of it. Axiamira then had on a petticoat and wastcoat of cloth
of silver very glittering, and over that a gown of black Tiffany exceeding fine, whereof the
body was plaited, so that it shewed the shape very perfectly; and the bottom of the skirt,
which was cut in peaks, made way for the cloth of silver to be seen athwart it. The sleeves
were indifferent wide, but to give more liberty to the arm, they were fsastened upon the
shoulder with clasps of Diamonds, leaving almost to open view the cloth of silver sleeves
that were under.  Her Girdle was of great Pearls enchaced amongst Diamonds: And behinde at her back were moreover two hanging sleeves reaching to the ground, bordered with
large borders of silver Embroidery, as well as the lower part of the Gown. Her neck was
half hid with most delicate black cobweb-lawn, which was tyed on her shoulder with a silver string.  And whereas our dressing is very high, there hung from the top of her head behinde a great vail, trailing to the very ground, of silver Tiffany, streaked with black, and carelesly plaited; which certainly gave a great deal of grace to the beauty of Axiamira, and
also supplyed that little which I had.
We went in this sort then to Ulamaes Lodging, which, according to the custom of Persia, that will have the houses, whereof the Matters or Mistresses be dead, to are for six weeks de-




prived of the light of the Sun, had no other Light but that of Lamps. For whereas Ulama was of a condition to observe all requisite Ceremonies; and that it was the sister of the Sophi, for whom he mourned, we found him in a chamber, hung with black Tinsel, streaked with gold, and enlightened with an hundred lamps of chrystal. Deliment was at that time with Ulama, who likewise attired all in black, except it were that which we call Caselbas, or red Turbant, which is never permitted to be left off, but onely to be covered with
a black Cipres. I must confess that I never saw man of goodly a presence in Persia, as Ulama was in that occasion. He received the Princes and Princesses with so much address and
grace, that all my fellows were ravished with it. But when he had caused them to sit down
and that we had ranked our selves on the other side of the chamber, where we remained
standing I soon perceived that if I had thought him handsom, he did not think me disagreeable, seeing that every time civility would permit him, he fastened his eyes so on my face, as I
was constrained to turn away mine; which made me observe how Deliment took more then
ordinary care to entertain Axiamira; for this man of blood and fire had not till then looked
upon any woman, but to despise her. And as if this chamber had had some fatalness to enchant the mindes of 
those that were in it, the Sophi himself came to visit Ulama, whilst
we were there, and for my ill fortune, he beheld me so favorably, as I past with him for the
fairest thing that ever he had seen. But whereas the time was not proper for gallantry, all
these springing passions were no otherwise made known then by looks, except in Deliment
who when the Princess hapned to go away, and that Tachmas was retired, advanced to lead
Axiamira, whil'st Ismael was yet talking with Ulama. She, that thought the Prince her
Brother would tarry behinde, received him with her ordinary civility, although she was extreamly averse to him. On the other side, Ismael having finished his complement, gave his
hand to Perca, who, without thinking how the blinde Prince had not brought his ordinary
guide along with him, suffred him to lead her; and whereas Mahamed perceived it, and was
very dextrous, he made his discourse endure as long as he could out of hope that some one or
other would lend him their hand to conduct him. I confess that having marked the pain he
was in, and moved with pity to see so goodly a Prince, so handsom, so sprightly,and so amiable,
in the unquietness wherein I saw him, I stept to him, without demanding permission for it
of the Governesses. My Lord, said I unto him, the Princesses are gone, will not you be pleased
to follow them? He that knew me by my voyce, Yes gladly, discreet Felixana, said he unto
me, if you will have the goodness to lead one that is blinde, who notwithstanding his blindness cannot but know your merit. I observed by Ulamaes countenance, that he had a desire
to have spoken a gallantry to me thereupon; as indeed he hath since assured me, that civility
onely kept him from it; but in fine I led Mahamed to the Princesses Lodging, for the which
he was so obliged unto me, as that which the eyes of Axiamira had wrought in the heart of
Deliment, and mine in that of the Sophi and Ulama, my courtesie effected in Mahameds;
who from thence forward began to have an inclination for me, which might well be termed
blinde, since if I had had any thing that was agreeable in my face, yet could he not have been
touched with it, being not able to see it; and as for wit, I was in an age, which ordinarily is
not capable of making great conquests. Indeed it is true, that my complying with him might
render me pleasing to him; for whereas all my fellows were not of my humor, they, when
Mahamed was with Axiamira, declined his conversation, or at least-wise applyed not themselves to it, and this, out of the thought, that being incapable of seeing their beauty, they
beleeved him to be also incapable of love, and for this reason, they would not lose that time
with him, which they thought might be better employed in the entertaining of all those
young persons of quality, which accompanyed the Princes to Axiamira.  As for me, who
cared not as yet, either for loving, or for being loved, I gave my self onely to things that pleased
me; and whereas I was infinitely taken with the conversation of Prince Mahamed, and that
generosity it self carryed me thereunto, I set my self as often as I could to talk with him  but
that which engaged me yet farther to this compliance, was, that the Princess Axiamira
loved him dearly; for whereas Ismael and Perca were unworthy of her affection, the first for
the defects of his spirit, and the other for her malice, she had placed all ber liking on Mahamed; so that when the Princess could not entertain him her self, she commanded me to stay
with him, which I did with a great deal of joy, because there was nothing of more power
at that time in my minde, then the desire to please the Princess, who in all her actions seemed




to prefer me before all my fellows. On the other side the Sophi, who would fain know, whether I would be as agreeable to his eyes in the Princesses Lodging, as he had found me in Ulama's; or whether the shining of so much light, and that chamber hung with black had
not served to deceive him, used to come sometimes to the Princesses, without giving me notwithstanding any greater mark of his affection, then to behold and commend me more then
the rest, when occasion was presented for it; for whereas I was very young at that time he
durst not, as I understood afterwards, speak plainly to me of his passion, fearing I should not
be discreet enough to conceal it from others. But whil'st he attended the improvement of my
reason, the time, whereunto the ceremony of mourning had confined Ulama, being quite expired, he came to render his duty to tbe Princesses, and to thank them for the honor they had
done him; and whereas I was almost never absent from Axiamira, he saw me in her chamber, and by a second view confirmed himself in the advantageous opinion he had conceived
of me; and so strorgly resolved to love me, as fearing he should be obliged to dislodg from
the Palace, because the Princess his wife being dead without children, he was scarcely any
longer of the royal Family; he purposed to endevor all he could to discover his affection unto
me, for fear he should be deprived of the commodity of doing it so easily, if he were constrained to be gone from thence. As for me, I confess to you blushing, that in this visit
which he gave to the Princess, I felt a desire arise in my heart that I might be pleasing unto
him; and without making any reflexion on this thought, I remember well, that although it
had been a great Court that day, I never thought of heeding my apparel; but as soon as
Ulama was entred, I observed my self with care, and without knowing any reason for it,
I would have been glad that I had been better drest then I was. But in fine, my Lord, two
or three hours after, Fortune was so favorable to Ulama's design, as having found me alone
in the Princesses Chamber, who was shut up in her Cabinet, he spake to me of his affection
with so much passion, as I knew not what to answer him, having never met with such like
encounters. And whereas his speech had ever since remained in my memory, and that it
hath been the beginning and cause of all my pleasure, and of all my misery, I cannot forbear
repeating it unto you. He no sooner entred into the chamber, but I advanced towards him,
to let him know that I was very sorry for that he could not see the Princess as yet; and that
having forbidden me incerrupting her, I durst not advertise her of his being there. Do not
afflict you self, fair Felixana, said he unto me, for a thing which is infinitely pleasing to me;
and if you will render me perfectly happy, trouble not my good fortune in doubting of this
truth. What, said I unto him exceedingly surprized, do you come to see the Princess, and
yet are glad that you cannot meet with her? truly this seems so strange to me, as I cannot
comprehend the reason of it. It is not for all that very difficult to finde out, answered he me,
for I come to see the Princess Axiamira out of duty, and the beautiful Felixana out of inclination: I am her subject, but I am your servant, and that in such sort, as you shall raign
eternally in my soul, there being no kinde of service which I will not render you with joy;
and henceforth, continued he, receive, fair Felixana, all the duties which I shall tender to to the
Princess, as appertaining to you; and beleeve that I am ravished with finding you thus alone,
whereby I have had the opportunity to make this Declaration unto you. This discourse surprized me in such manner, as I should have been much perplexed to have answered it, if Axiamira had not at the same instant called me, so that being prest to obey the Princess, all that
I could do, was to tell him, that knowing him and my self too, I should always be able to
discern how to beleeve that which was fit for me to beleeve, both for his glory, and mine.
But, my Lord, without particularizing all these things unto you, it may suffice me to tell you,
that in six months space Ulama gave me so many marks of his love and discretion, as I should
have been ingrateful and insensible, not to have rendred him seme testimony of my goodwill; and whereas I was neither the one nor the other, Ulama received from me all the
proofs of friendship, which virtue could permit me to give him; and I may say that this was
the onely time, wherein I lived with pleasure. And truly I must confess that the life which I
led was happy enough; I saw my self favored by the most amiable person that ever was;
caressed by the Sophi; esteemed of Mahamed; and passionately beloved of Ulama, who
without contradiction, surpassed all that were at the Court in that blessed time. Prince Mahamed resolved then to declare his passion overtly to me; so that one day, when the weather
was very fair, and that according to Axiamira's custom we were gone down into the gar-



den she sent to desire Mahamed that he would come and walk there; and when he was
come, the gentleman which led him, was commanded to withdraw, that they might talk
with the more liberty. Axiamira having willed me to lend Mahamed my hand, he let himself be guided by me, and the Princess leaned on him. After we had walked a pretty while
some ten or eleven paces distant from the rest of my fellows, who out of respect durst not
follow neerer, having well observed, that the Princess was not willing they should. Mahamed first speaking, asked of her, whether it was to say nothing unto him that she had sent
for him; it being certain, that all the while we had walked together she had not spoken a
word; for, continued he, my dear sister, whereas I do not see but with the eyes of my
minde, if you have a purpose to entertain me, it must be with your discourse, since walking
can have no other charm for me then what I finde in going along with you under the conduct of the discreet Felixana. My silence, answered the Princess, will trouble you less it may
be, then my discourse; seeing I know you too generous, and Felixana too wife, and too
affectionate to my service, to conceal my misfortunes from you. It is certain that I was very
much surprized to hear the Princess speak in this sort; for though she had been a pretty while
past somewhat sadder then she used to be, yet perceiving no apparant cause for it, I had attributed it to one of those melancholies without a cause, which seizes upon all the world at
one time or other, and proceeds from ones temperature; but when as going on in her speech
she acquainted us, that ever since the visit which she had given to Ulama after the loss of the
Princels his wife, and that Deliment had presented her his hand to lead her to her lodging, as
I remembred very well, he had been so audacious as to speak divers times to her of love, although she had at the very first very severely forbidden him; my amazement ceased, knowing
well enough the excream aversion which she had for Deliment, and how much her great heart
ought to be incensed, that a man of a birth so unequal to hers should be so daring, as to lose the
respect which he owed unto her. As for Mahamed, who knew but too well, by the report
of some of his servants, that Deliment slighted him, he was so netled, as he could not forbear saying aloud: How, sister, hath this Insolent lost the respect which he ows to you? Yes,
replyed the Princess, and in such a manner, as even to day, when as the Sophi brought him along with him into my chamber, upon protext of talking with me about an affair, which I
did not finde was very necessary for me to know, he stayd there behinde him, and had the
insolence to let me understand by his obscure discourses, that the greatest happiness could arrive to me was to be his wife; because, said he unto me, so you may one day be the Sophies.
For the truth is, Ismael knows not how to reign; Mahamed is so far from guiding of an
Empire, as he cannot guide himself; and Perca will not peradventure finde an husband, able
to dispute the Crown of Persia against Deliment, who does not tell you all these things without reason, nor without a good ground. Judg now after this, said Axiamira to us, what
I should have answered him, if he had given me leasure for it, but he went away so speedily,
and I was so confounded, as I could not open my mouth. Now though this insolent man hath
filled me with choller and despite, yet is it not that which disquiets me; and had I nothing but his pride, his love, and his ambition to fight with, I should easily surmount such weak enemies; but that which amazes and afflicts me both together is, that an hour after Deliment had left me, Ismael and my sister came to me into my Cabinet, whither I had retired my self, and spoke so much to me of the affection which Deliment bore me, of his great courage, of his wit, and of the excellent qualities that were in him, as I remained quite confounded therewith; and had I not purposed to take your counsel in this affair, it is certain that I would have learned of them what obligation they had had to him whom they protected so: and then again I am fallen into some fear, that my sister hath a great share in Deliments fault, for reasons which I cannot comprehend; for I know that a good while now together she hath oftener accompanyed Ismael to his lodging, then to mine. Ah, my dear sister, cryed the Prince, that I had my brothers eyes, or that he had Mahameds heart! you should soon be revenged of his insolent fellow; and the loss of his life should in a few days restore yours to its former tranquility. I know very well, replyed the Princess, that you are as generous as Ismael is weak, and my sister malicious: but in fine being able to do no other thing, you are to counsel me, and you and Felixana are to consider well that the Sophi loves Deliment passionately; that he brought him not without some occasion into my chamber; that although he be wicked, yet he hath wit; that consequently he must needs know that his insolence is up-





held by some body; that Ismael and Perca are of his party; that they hate Ulama because
he is of ours; that the Sophi our Father is not sensible of love to his children; and that the
passions, which predominate in him, prevail with him over all things. Just hereupon we saw
Ismael, Perca, and all her women appear afar off, so that to shew there was no mystery in our
talk she went to meet them, and going away prayed us, that we would sever out selves far
from all others, to think of that she had said to us, and that in the Evening I should tell her
the resolution we had taken. I led Prince Mahamed then into another alley, where we were
still for all that in the sight of the Princesses; and there, after we had well considered the matter, we resolved, that it was needful, before it should break forth, to discover, whether the
Sophi authorized the love of Deliment; whether Ismael and Perca had any intelligence with
him, or any interest in this love; that for this effect Ulama was to be made use of for so
much as regarded tbe Sophi; and that I on my part should endevor to know the secrets of
Perca, by the means of a maid whom she had loved very much, and who did not hate me;
and that when we knew the truth of the business, it would be far more easie for us to remedy
the same; for in fine, said I, if the Sophi doth not protect Deliment, he will be lost as soon
as he understands of his insolence; and if Perca be not interested in this affair, the discourse
which he hath used to the Princess will quickly make her change party, when she knows it:
but if the Sophi, as it is very likely, hath given some secret hopes to Deliment; and that
Perca on the other side hath any share in this adventure, it would be to no purpose to complain precipitously to them of the insolence of this man, seeing they are the cause of it; and
other remedies are to be sought out. But Prince Mahamed said unto me, Is it possible that
the Sophi (who heretofore, as I have understood, hath beenso rigorous an observer of the
Laws ofthis Empire, that he banished the Satrap Arsalon, for marrying a maid that was not
noble) should so shamefully infringe them for him. In authorizing the love of Deliment? This
is a thing, my Lord, said I unto him, whereof we must be cleared by the way which I have
shewed. This discourse being finished, and our resolution taken, I perceived that we were
a great way distant from the Princesses, so that turning the Prince about, he observed that I
would reconduct him to a place, where he would not have the liberty to speak unto me;
wherefore standing still, and wringing me a little by the hand; go not so fast, said he unto
me, amiable Felixana, and be pleased, that as Axiamira hath to day judged you worthy of
communicating all her secrets unto you, so I may acquaint you with one of mine that concerns
my life; to the end that our interests being so well joyned together, our party may be the
more stronger, and our enemy the weaker. And when I had answered him, that it was easie
for him to judg by my past actions of the desire I had to serve him; you may well think, said
he unto me, according to the discourse which my sister used to me, that I should lack reason,
in making protestations of love unto you, were I not constrained thereunto by the force of
truth and my passion. Protestations of love to me, my Lord, said I? Yes, dear maid, replyed he; and though I know very well, how it is an hard thing to beleeve, and hard to perswade, that a blinde man, who cannot truly figure unto himself what Beauty is, should be
desperately in love with you; yet is it certain that none hath ever been so much as I am. I
hear all those that come neer you, talk to you of the attracts of your eyes, of the beauty of
your complexion, of your stature, and of your neck; but I hear none tell you, that your soul
is fair, that your spirit is great and generous, that your goodness is extream, and that in conclusion you are the most virtuous person that is in the world; yet is it with these beauties that
my soul is touched; and they are they which doubtless render my love more strong and more
pure, then all those, which, as I have heard say, are destroyed by the loss of that beauty that
is unknown to me. But that which I have for you shall certainly last as long as my life; for
the beauty, discreet Felixana, which I adore in you, cannot be destroyed by time. If you
be rigorous to me, continued he, I shall excuse your rigor by the knowledg I have of my defects; and if you be not so to me, I will set no bounds to your hopes, no more then to my
affection. But in the mean time, said he unto me, do me the grace to let me know, in what
manner you will have me live with you. It is not for me, my Lord, answered I, to rule
your life; but it is for me to rule my minde so, as to beleeve no more then I ought, and not
to lose the respect, which I have always rendred you. But, my Lord, added I, the first
thing we are to think of is, to draw Axiamira out of the pain wherein I see her. That is
my intent, replyed the Prince, and I have desired to engage you the more straitly in it, by let-



ing you know, that Deliment cannot resolve to destroy me without making you lose the
man, which in all the world loves you the most ardently, to the end that understanding the
interest you have therein, you may employ your self with the more care. I received this discourse with moderation enough, and a great deal of respect; as well because the vertue of
this Prince pleased me, as because I knew he loved, and very much esteemed Ulama and Axiamira; but in such sort howsoever, as I engaged my self to nothing. In the mean time
we came to the Princesses, and with them we found Deliment, whom Ismael had sent for
by the perswasion of Perca. As soon as he saw me neer to my fellows, he came to quarrel
with me for having walked so long with the Prince, and separating me from him, without
any incivility, because the Gentleman, that used to lead Mahamed, had lent him his hand again, I quickly discerned by his discourse, that there was a great intelligence between the
Sophi and him: For as soon as he saw me alone, he began to tell me, that I was the happiest
person of my sex, if I knew well how to manage the affection which the Sophi bore me;
that he gave me this advice as my servant; and that if I pleased, he would serve me in it
with all his power. I thanked him coldly enough for this offer, and told him, how I knew
very well, that all my happiness came from the Sophi, seeing the beautiful Axiamira made
up all my felicity; and saying so, I returned to my fellows, which already were going after
the Princes, and Princesses, who retired with very different thoughts. For Axiamira had het
minde filled with choller and hate; Mahamed added to all those things the love he bore to
me; Perca thought to work so by her artifices, as we understood afterwards, that a man,
who was of no great birth, should marry her sister, to the end she might make use of it when
time should serve: Deliment imagined how he might deceive all the world for the satisfying
of his love and his ambition; and Ismael alone knew not very well what he was thinking on.
As for me, I was so surprized with the insolency of Deliment towards the Princess, of the artifice of Perca ,of the love of Mahamed, and of that of the Sophi, as I could scarcely speak. But in fine, my Lord, that I may not amuse my self too long about petty things, having such great ones
to tell you, you shall understand that we learned a little after, by the address of Ulama, by the
intelligence which I got from Perca's confident, and by the innocency & simplicity of Ismael,
all the several designs of these interessed persons. As for the Sophi, the greatest interest that he
had in this affair, was only in my person; for though he durst not speak to me of his passion, for
the reason I have alledged; yet was it so strong, as he was constrain'd to discover it to Deliment,
who promised him to speak to me of it; and in case I should not be discreet enough to conceal this secret from others, he would be so confident as to disavow all that he had said to me.
For Deliment, he had a long time before won an old Satrap, in whom the Sophi very much
consided for the affairs of the Empire, and who had oftentimes perswaded him by Deliment's
direction, that tbe Law, which had caused Arsalon to be banished, was very judiciously
made for his subjects, but not for him; perswading him, that Kings, which did not marry
their daughters to forraign Princes, were never to admit the noblest and the greatest of their
subjects into their alliance; because that most commonly was to take Tutors, in taking sons
in law of an high birth; and that for the good of the Prince, of the State, and of the Princesses, it would be better to do otherwise. For, said he unto him one day, coming to particulars, if by example, the Princess Axiamira had marryed Deliment, what a felicicy would
yours be to have a son-in-law, that should owe all his glory to you, and absolutely depend
on you? and what an happiness would it be for Axiamira to have an husband, without having a master? it being certain, that the inequality of their conditions would always keep Deliment in the terms of duty and obedience. With such like reasons as these it was, that this wicked man had caused the minde of the Sophi to be prepared before he would discover his love unto him. But whereas he had understood by his Agent, that he had not rejected those propositions, the morning that he had been to see the Princess, which was the same wherein the Sophi discovered to him the love which he bore to me, he wrought so dextrously with him, as he made him comprehend, that if he had a passion in some sort unworthy of his rank, he on the contrary had one, that was far above all he could pretend unto, and that would not permit him to hope for any thing. He spake this to him with so much cunning, as he designed Axiamira unto him, yet without engaging himself to far, but that he might interpret his discourse after another manner, if he perceived the Sophi to be offended at it. But he had too much need of him for me, and his minde was too much possest with maxims



of State, which were advantageous to Deliment, for him to be so: and indeed far from being displeased with it, he embraced, and told him, that his hopes might go so high, as that he
permitted him to lift up his eyes, even to the Princess Axiamira. For, said he unto him, since
Nature hath not given me children, which can govern this Empire, I would be willing that
love and fortune would give me such a one as Deliment, who may, if not be Sophi after me,
at least-wise counsel him that shall be. Deliment, cunning and dextrous as he was, made as
though he did not beleeve that which the Sophi said to him, and out of a feigned respect, not
seeming to acknowledg that to be his passion, the Sophi said unto him, to oblige him thereunto, that it being not so far from him to the Princess Axiamira, as from me to the Sophi of
Persia, he was not to fear that he would thence forward oppose an unequal affection, seeing
he had discovered his unto him. But when as Deliment continued saying, that respect was
stronger in him then all other things, the Sophi, that he might know whether it were Axiamira indeed whom he was in love withall, carryed him to her lodging; and it was then that
this rash man was so audacious, as to speak with such insolency to the Princess. For whereas he had tryed that love could not move her, he beleeved that ambition might; and that the
hope of reigning over Persia would move her more, then the certainty wherein she was of
reigning over his heart. As for the Princess Perca, they had a long time before created together, and he had perswaded ber, that the Crown of Persia was to be shared between her
and her sister; and for that effect she was to be kept from marrying any man, whose generosity (for so it was that he spake) should carry him to let stupid Ismael, or blinde Mahamed
reign. And when he made a shew of seeking out, who in the Court might be Axiamira's
husband, he play'd his part so well, that he led her, as cunning as she was, to the point he desired. For after she had mused awhile, as well as he, what need have we, said she unto him,
to seek so far off for that, which we may finde in the person of Deliment? He, seeming to
have no other interest in this affair then the good of the Princesses, held off a good while, that he
might be the more prest unto it. But at length, being come to agreement about their conditions, they judged, that albeit Ismael was not capable of rendering a party much stronger then if
he were not of it, yet it would be advantageous for them to seize upon his spirit; and Perca
took the care to do it. As indeed, she easily perswaded him, that it was requisite Axiamira
should be marryed to a man that depended on him, and not on Mahamed, who after the
death of the Sophi might trouble him, in demanding a great portion, as is he were not blind;
so that to weaken his party, it would be good to marry Axiamira to Deliment, who would
tye himself wholly to his interests. Behold, my Lord, the motives and the causes of Deliment's insolency to Axiamira; of the discourses which he made to me touching the love of
the Sophi; of the perswasions of Perca and Ismael; and of the unquietness, which this unpleasing entanglement gave us. For being advereised of part of these things, which we understood much better afterwards, Prince Mahamed, Axiamira, Ulama, and I, who was
also of the counsel, resolved, that the Princess should always treat Deliment with a great
deal of coldness and indifferency; without giving him for all that any notable cause of complaining: That the best would be carefully to avoyd all occasions wherein the Sophi might
speak of this man; it being more expedient, that the matter should not break forth but upon
extremity, because it might arrive that it would not have a sequel so grievous as we foresaw it:
That in the mean time we should labor to let Perca know, that Deliment did not intend to use
her better, then Ismael and Mahamed: That for me, I should receive the discourse, which
he should make me concerning the Sophi's love, as a thing I did not beleeve, and that I would
not have to be true; and that I should give him as little occasion as I could to speak to me of
it. I offered the Princess to retire to my father under pretext of a supposed sickness, but if the
good-will which she bore me opposed it, Prince Mahameds love hindred it absolutely: In
regard whereof they represented unto me, that if I should do so, it would be the undoing of
all, because if the Sophi did love me, he would be so incensed thereby, as he might peradventure be carryed to a violence, which otherwise he would not be capable of. As for Ulama,
he had secret apprehensions which incessantly tormented him; the power of his Rival made
him afraid, neither was he so assured of my constancy, but that he feared ambition would
move me more then his love. But whereas it was not long before I perceived his unquietness, I wrote unto him, for his better assurance, that nothing but death could keep me from performing the promise, which I had made him, to be wholly his, when he had setled his affairs




so, as he might marry me. For whereas he was a widower by the death of the Sophi's sister,
civility would not permit him to think so soon of a second marriage, especially with a person,
whose birth, though noble and illustrious enough, came not neer for all that to the former.
Things being in these terms, we were a good while without having any great occasion to increase our unquietness; because the Sophi and Deliment having consulted a second time together, and resolved to seek to gain me by gentleness, before they would come to force, there
was nothing but sports and entertainments. And whereas according to the order I had for it
so often as Deliment spake to me of the Sophi's love, I made as though I did not beleeve there
was any truth in his words; Tachmas being thereof advertised, and desiring to give me a proof
of the esteem he made of that they called beauty in may face, he did a thing, which hath since
been the cause of a great deal of mischief; for, generous Ibrahim, it happened for our ill fortune, that there arrived about that time at this Court a Painter of Europe whom chance, or
the desire of travelling had brought thither, and that drew pictures in little, so admirable resembling the life, as the like had never been hear of. And at the same time certain Merchants
came thither also, who, amongst other rarities, which they had, made shew of a number of
the pictures of the fairest women of such several Nations, as they had passed through. These
two things joyned together, caused the Sophi, out of the design he had to oblige me, to give
command that all the maidens of quality, which were at the Court, should present themselves
at his Palace on a certain day, appointed for it, together with the Princesses and their maids,
sumptuously apparelled. This ceremony, whereof we knew not the cause (for they made a
secret of it) somewhat troubled us, but at length that day being arrived, and all this fair Assembly compleated, the Sophi followed by Ismael, Mahamed, Ulama, Deliment, and the
Painter, of whom I have spoken to you, entred into the room, where we were all set in order, but without the Princesses holding the rank, which they ought to have had, for so had
the Sophi ordained it; and that which also redoubled the impatience we were in, to know
for what reason they had caused us to be attired so richly, was, to see the Sophi hold in his
right hand two Crowns of gold set with Diamonds, and taking the Painter with his left hand,
whom neither the Princesses, nor any of their maidens knew as yet, to say unto him, that
he established him the judg of the beauty of all chose which composed this fair Assembly; as
knowing better, then the rest of the world, the just proportion of the features of the face;
that which made up the delicacy, freshness, and vivacity of the complexion; and what the
difference was between an animated beauty, and another that hath no life nor grace in it.
And that to make him give a more equitable sentence, he had so ordered it, as he could not
discern the condition of the fair ones, of whom he was the judg; but howsoever that he nevertheless reserved to himself the right of crowning them, whom he should judg to be worthy of that honor. This said, he led him all over the room, and making an exact stand at each
of them, that so none might be disobliged, he finished his first turn, none being able to judg
that he had given advantage to any; nevertheless I perceived, when the Painter made a stand
before me, that the Sophi, seeing me cast down my eyes, as pretending to no part in this victory, had said softly, that I had not so much as need of their sparkling, to merit the Crown
having beauty enough other-where. It is certain that I blusht at this discourse and that lifting up my eyes again, I encountred Ulama's, wherein I marked s omuch unquiecness as it
pityed me exceedngly. Prince Mahamed was close by him, who not able to see but with
others eyes, demanded softly of him, what they were doing: But at last, when the Painter,
for ceremonies sake, had separated twelve from the rest, whereof the Princess Axiamira and
I were two; and that the Sophi had willed him once again to be equal; whether it were that
Tachmas had made me known to the Painter, without my perceiving it, as in all likelyhood
he had; or whether he was not very knowing in beauty, I was the first that was declared victorious, and on whose head the Sophi set one of the Crowns. But whereas I knew very well, that this victory was an effect rather of the Sophi's love, then of my beauty, it brought me more spight then joy; so that taking the Crown, which had been given me, I went to place it at the feet of Axiamira, just as the Sophi, by the sentence of the Painter, set the other on her head. But he, seeing this action of mine, took that which I was going to place on the ground, and giving it me a second time; Is it, said he unto me, for that the Crown which I offer you is not beautiful enough? or that the hand which presents it to you is not illustrious enough? It is neither the one nor the other, my Lord, answered I, but it is




because I am neither beautiful, nor illustrious enough, to wear a Crown, that parts from the
hand of so great a Prince. And then coming nearer to me, Receive this same, said he to me
softly, fair maid, and beleeve, if you will be reasonable, that this shall not be the last you
shall receive from me. All the answer I made to this discourse was onely blushing, and so I
shuffled in my self amongst my fellows, with as much dipleasure for my victory, as they
had vexation for that they had not carryed it. But in conclusion, my Lord, Axiamira and I
were painted in the habit of Amazons, which, as he said who drew our pictures, was pleasing to all Nations: When they were done, the Sophi caused him to make six copies of each
of us, which he put into Cases of Gold, enriched with Diamonds, and gave them to those
Merchants, who had shew'd him so many forraign beauties; but with an oath, that they
should never sell them to any but Princes, and that they should always reserve one of each of
them in their own keeping, to publish Axiamira's beauty and mine over all the Countries
through which they travelled. These Merchants promised all that he required, and for our
ill fortune kept their word but too well, as you shall understand hereafter. From that same
day Deliment persecuted me more then ordinary, it seeming unto him that I was no longer
to doubt of the Sophi's love, after that which he had said unto me. And whereas I desired
ta decline his encounter, as much as I could, I stood oftentimes talking with Prince Mahamed; because though he contemned him, yet his quality made him that he durst not separate
me from him, when we were in discourse together. And I remember that one day, as this
poor Prince was entertaining me, and that Deliment was come to the Princesses with Ismael,
out of a design to say something to me from the Sophi, this insolent man did so far lose the
respect which he owed to Mahamed, as I hated him for it more then I did before. I have
already told you blushing, generous Ibrahim, that this Prince was in love with me; and
though I had nothing but good-will for him, and that Ulama absolutely possessed my heart,
yet did I in some sort comply with Mahamed, for his discourse was so virtuous, and so obliging, though passionate, as if Ulama had heard it, I verily think he could not have hated
this illustrious Rival. I was also willing to conserve the good-will of the son, out of the intent I had to refuse the love of the father. It was then with his passion that Mahamed
entertained me that day, when as Deliment had so great a desire to speak with me, and that
finding himself hindred from it by the Princes presence, he thought good to observe both his
actions and mine. And whereas it is hard for the motions of the face not to give some marks
of those of the heart, especially when love possesseth it; Deliment perceived something
which was extraordinary in that of the Prince; for Mahamed, albeit he was blinde, yet
came up close to me, as is he could have seen me; and because his eyes could not advertise
him when there was any one neer us that could hear him, and that it would have but put me
in remembrance of his defect if he should have said any thing to me of it, he always used to
speak softly unto me; which that day, amongst others, gave no little unquietness to Deliment;
for having marked that I had blusht twice or thrice, and it seeming to him to be without
anger, he suspected somewhat of the truth. And whereas he was insolent, and accustomed
to a bitter jeering, which made him to be yet more hated of every one, he said, speaking of
me, to Perca's Confident, who was hard by him (for those two Princesses were retired into
Axiamira's Cabinet, accompanyed by Ismael,) doth not this so long and so particular a
conversation possess you with curiosity? for as for me, continued he, I profess unto you that
I cannot comprehend it. If it be of indifferent things, I am cercain, that he cannot talk to
her of the rarities which he hath seen in his voyages; if it be of War, he cannot render her
any other account but of the noise of the Canons; and if it be of Love, I am well assured,
that he doth not entertain her, either with the whiteness of her skin, or the sweetness of her
look; so that I conclude he cannot talk to her but of his dreams, which should not be very
pleasing, since the objects he hath seen conduce not much to the furnishing him with fair
idea's. Deliment spake so softly, as I could not hear him; but whereas the privation sight
seemed to have redoubled in Mahamed the delicacy of hearing, he lost not one word of that
which I have delivered. I perceived very well, that upon a sudden he had held his peace, that
he had blushed, and that without harkening to me he had lent an ear to Deliment; but I was
much surprized, when as turning him towards the place where he heard him speak, he said
unto him with a strong and confident voyce: Thou thinkest it may be, insolent as thou art,
that because I am blinde, I should be deaf also; howbeit know, that I have but too well




heard, for thy interest, the injurious words which thou hast spoken; for though I am deprived of sight, I have not lost my courage; and did not the respect of Axiamira retain me, I would strangle thee with mine own hands, or thy flight should shelter thee from my fury; but what say I, continued he, thou knowest well, base man, that I could not follow thee, and that is it which makes thee so audacious. Deliment during this discourse did nothing but smile, which so incensed me, as I could not forbear beholding him with rage; but meaning to carry insolency to the highest point, he told Mahamed, that he had said nothing of him, which he might not say again to the Sophi, without offending him. I do not think, replyed Mahamed, that he would be as unjust to authorize thy insolency to me, as to Axiamira; but howsoever, get thee out of this lodging, and never come into the place where I am, I charge thee. I assure you, answered Deliment as he was going away, that you shall never see me more.
This last jeer so mightily incensed Mahamed, as he would have gone to
that part where he heard the voyce of Deliment; but knowing that his misfortune would not
permit his coming at him to punish his audaciousness, I retained him the best I could; and
not thinking of Perca's Confident being there, Let this sensless fellow go, my Lord, said I
unto him, and consider that your hand is too noble to punish his arrogance; and that in stead
of doing him an affront, you will do him an honor, whereof he is not worthy. At this
noise the Princesses opened the Cabinet, and Axiamira asking what the matter was, saw
Prince Mahamed exceedingly moved; It is, answered he, an insolency of Deliments, which
I may not tell you so suddenly; for, my dear sister, those of his party are yet too strong here.
Perca seeming not to understand that this discourse was addressed to her, I assure my self, said
this subtle Princess, that this was one of Deliment's merriments, which the Prince hath misunderstood; but lest this diforder, continued she, should oblige the Sophi to forbid the Princes
from bringing any body to our lodging, I will go and endevor to appease this tempest. Spare
that pain, replyed Mahamed; for certainly, on my part, it shall never be appeased but with
the death of Deliment. But Perca, without answering this discourse, took Ismael by the
hand, and all amazed as he was, carryed him away whither she pleased. We were no sooner
at liberty to talk, but Mahamed recounted to the Princess Axiamira all Deliment's insolency, and that with so much choller, and marks of resentment, as made me much to pity this
poor Prince. Will you endure, dear sister, said he unto her, that the Enemy of Mahamed
shall become the husband of Axiamira? That a man, which hath made use of your chamber, as of a sanctuary, to affront me with impunity, shall be yet so audacious as to pretend
to the possession of your person? Ah! no, you are too generous to have such base thoughts:
and I hope, though my eyes are not able to guide my hand so as it may give this Insolent an
hundred stabs, yet that yours will at the least take all the revenge of him you can, in shewing him so mmy marks of your rigor and disdain, as the love and ambition, which reign in
his heart, wanting satisfaction, he may howsoever have two domestical Enemies, which will
persecute him incessantly, or to say betcer, until such time as I have found out a man generous
enough to guide my arm, or to lend me his. Ulama entred into the chamber just at that instant, and having heard those last words, without giving the Princess leasure to answer, he
went to Mahamed, and assured him, that except it were against the person of the Sophi, he
might dispose of him in any thing, and employ him in such revenge as he pleased. Mahamed having quickly known Ulama by his voyce: Ah! generous Ulama, said he unto him,
that I am not in a condition to acknowledg thy virtue, rather then to have need of thy courage against an infamous fellow, who cannot pretend to any other part of valor, but that
which those cruel beasts may have, who are not valiant, but because they are strong, and
of a bloody disposition. The Princess, who perceived that in stead of being appeased, Mahamed grew the more incensed with talking, made him enter into her Cabinet with Ulama,
and me; where we no sooner were, but she beginning to speak, assured Mahamed, that she
was no less sensible of Deliment's insolency then he; that she promised never to marry him,
not, said she, because I would have you obliged to me for it, or that you should think I do
it for the love of you but contrarily, I desire you would beleeve, that when Deliment shewed
the most love and resped to me, I would still have made choyce of death, rather then be his
wife; for in fine, his birth, his humor, his wickedness, and his arrogance, have possessed me
with so much hatred against him, as there is no extremity, whereunto I will not be carryed,
rather then consent to any thing that may please him. But that which I desire you should


think is, that if the greatest Prince of the Earth, and that did most touch mine inclination,
should offer you any outrage, I would be his cruellest Enemy, and the first that would be revenged on him for it. Ah! generous sister (said Mahamed, interrupting her, and much comforted with hearing her speak so) I was perswaded, that my quarrel should be yours, and that
you would not abandon me. When as I saw that their discourse resolved on nothing, I told them, that without amusing themselves about giving testimonies of their affection one to another, which was to no purpose, since it could not be doubted of, it would be better for them to employ the time in considering, whether Mahamed should complain to the Sophi,
or whether he should stay, to see in what manner Deliment would live with him for the future, after he had forbidden him his presence. This advice seeming just unto them, they began to examine the matter. As for Mahamed, he would neither complain, nor stay, but
onely revenge himself. Ulama, who foresaw that no good could come of this revenge, either for the Prince, or for the Princess, or for himself, stay'd till Axiamira had delivered her
opinion, pretending that he was not to speak his, inregard, said he, that it belonged onely
to him to execute that which the Princess and Mahamed should resolve upon. So that Axiamira being unwilling to speak alone by her self, commanded me to say what I thought was
fit to be done in this affair. I confess to you, generous Ibrahim, that notwithstanding the
hate which I bare to Deliment, I advised, that things should be gently carryed; and that if
he came to submit himself to Mahamed, he should be received, and shew made of pardoning him; but upon condition nevertheless, that he should appear as seldom as he might in
places where Mahamed should be. And that which carryed me hereunto, was the thought
that if Ulama enterprized any thing against Deliment, ehe least that could arrive unto me by
it would be, that Ulama would be constrained to absent himself, and leave me in the power
of the Sophi. As for the Princess, she was of the opinion, that a gentleman should be sent
from Mahamed to complain to the Sophi of Deliments insolency; and that withall great
care stiould be taken to publish it, because, said she to Mahamed, it will be requisite to make
him be contemned and hated of every one, as much as possibly we can, that we make use of that
hatred and contempt when time shall serve; for, continued she, the world is not acquainted
with his temerity and audaciousness; and whereas he is rich and liberal, he hath partisans and
servants, who durst not declare themselves to be so, if they knew that you and I did hate
him. Why, sister, replyed Mahamed, would you have me publish, that I have received an
affront with impunity? Yes, said she, I would have it published, that you may be revenged
of Deliment, seeing you may do it without offence to your reputation. Consider, added
she, that if the generosicy of Ulama should carry him to fight with Deliment, your revenge
would be doubtful, since you cannot be ignorant, that the success of Arms is always so, and
is peradventure it should cost you the blood and fortune of so excellent a man, you would
repent you of this violence. No, Madam, said Ulama interrupting her, never stand on these
considerations; seeing my fortune, my blood, and my life, could not be employed more
gloriously, then in revenging Prince Mahamed. But, replyed she, the matter is not so easie
as you imagine; your design may be discovered; the opportunity of executing it perchance
will not be presented; and then to speak freely unto you, I cannot approve of that violence
in Mahamed, which I should condemn in others. It will be better then to lay the blame on
the Sophi and Deliment in a gentle way; and procure him secret Enemies, who when occasion shall require, and that we would openly oppose his violences, may serve us with courage,
and give us the means to be revenged, without fear, and with honor. In brief, this sage
Princess maintained her opinion with so many reasons, as it was followed: And to execute
it, I went to give order for the fetching of an old Governor, who bad brought up Mahamed, and that was one of the wisest and understandingest men of our age, to the end he
might go to the Sophi, who whil'st we were taking our resolution entertained Deliment.
For as soon as he was gone out of Axiamira's chamber he went unto that of the Sophi, to
whom for the colouring of his insolency he said, that finding me every day more rebellious to
his will, he could think no other, but that my heart was engaged other-where; and that having observed all my actions, he had found that Prince Mahamed did not hate me; that to be
the better cleared thereof, and carryed by the zeal which he had to his service, he had spoken
some jesting words, whil'st the Prince entertained me, which he had taken so ill, as his anger
thereupon did perswade him the more to that opinion of his. It is not, said he smiling, (as




we understood afterwards) because it may be easily imagined, that the beauty of Felixana hath given you a rival; but howsoever I would not conceal my suspicion from you, and it is for you to make my peace with Prince Mahamed, if you will not have the beatiful Axiamira hate me. I will take the care of that upon me, replyed the Sophi; and beleeve that I am not a little obliged unto you, in that you have not feared to anger Mahamed, for to serve me in a thing, whereon my felicity depends. Judg, my Lord, whether after this artifice, the complaints of this poor Prince were well received or no. The Sophi nevertheless desired to keep some decorum, being unable to beleeve that Mahamed was amorous, though he resolved to clear himself further therein. 
As soon then as that ancient Governor of Mahamed
had made his complaint, he told him, that he was already advertised of the matter; and
that to give satisfaction to Mahamed, he commanded him to pardon Deliment, whose heart
he well knew and was sure that he had no purpose to offend him, and that it had been nothing but a light temptation, to say some merriment. And when that Governor would have
besought him, that at least-wise Deliment should not come, but as seldom as he could, to the
places where Prince Mahamed should be; the Sophi bid him make no further reply, for he
would be obeyed; and for that effect he would go and carry Deliment to Axiamira's chamber, to the end that in the same place, where the fault had been committed, it might also
be pardoned; so that when we expected the Sophi's answer, we saw him himself enter,
leaning on Deliment, and followed by Ismael and Perca, who not having seen Deliment
since her going forth, because he was with the Sophi, she had followed them to this chamber, as soon as she had been advertised that they came thither. I leave you to judg, whether this visit did not possess Mahamed with choller, and Axiamira and me with amazement. But we were yet in much more, whenas theSophi fell to amplifie the obligations
which he had to Deliment, his virtues, his merit, the affection he bare to the Princes and
Princesses; and in fine, continued he, the greatest mark that can be given me of the passion
one is in for my service, is, to render the same honors to Deliment, as if he were my son;
and as for you, said he, leaning on Mahamed's shoulder, I command you to love Deliment,
and to live well with him. It would be methinks more just, replyed the Prince, that you
would ordain him not to affront me, since he cannot do so without offending you. I do excuse, answered the Sophi, the ill opinion you have of Deliment, seeing it is not occasioned
but by the little knowledg yoa have of his intentions. But howsoever I will be obeyed;
and without examining whether my pleasure be unjust or equitable, I command you to receive his submissions and his friendship. Hereupon Deliment began to speak, and disguising
the malice of his soul, he said so many obliging things to Mahamed, as is he had not perfectly known his wickedness, he might have beleeved that he was capable of repenting. So it
was, that Mahamed was constrained to make shew of no longer resenting the offence he had
received. This peace brought great joy to Perca; but Axiamira's coldness made it apparant enough that they were not both of one party. The Sophi continued yet some time in
talking of indifferent things, during the which he still fixed his eyes on my face: And whereas out of a sense of compassion, and to avoyd his looks, I turned my head all that while towards Mahamed, he began to think that there might be some verity in Deliments suspicion.
He was no sooner returned to his lodging, but thinking of the means to be cleared therein,
he conceived that the gentleman, who served to guide Mahamed, might peradventure be he
from whom he might learn something. He had no sooner communicated this design to Deliment, but that having approved of it, he thought of nothing else then execucing it. And to
that purpose he waited, that he might give no suspition to Mahamed, till he was retired in
the Evening, for at that time the Prince not using to stir forth any more, always left his guide
at liberty; Deliment, who had caused him to be watched, was no sooner advertised that he
was come out of the Princes chamber, but he made him be secretly told, that the Sophi would
speak with him. This man, who had not been accustomed to receive such like favors, presently obeyed; and the Sophi, joyning the hope of a great fortune, presents, and entreaties,
to his commands, had quickly suborned his fidelity. After then that he was well assured of
him, both by reason of the things I have spoken of, and of the fear of punishment if he failed in his promise, he commanded him exactly to observe all Prince Mahamed's actions, to take good notice of what he spake of me; to endevor to learn something thereof; and to
give him an account of it every Evening at the same hour. And when he pressed him to tell




him, whether he had not perceived that there was some intelligence between the Prince and
me, he answered him, that he knew no more thereof, but that the Prince spake oftener of
me, then of any other of my fellows. But whil'st they were betraying him in this sort, he
was not without unquietness; The spight to be so ill entreated by the Sophi, and so unworthily affronted by Deliment, without having an assured mean to be revenged of it, put him
into no little pain: And then again, when he came to think, that the next day he should encounter with Deliment again at Axiamira's lodging, his great heart could not so soon resolve upon so grievous a thing; he purposed then, for the declining of it, to make a shew of
being sick, and not to stir out of his chamber a good while. But when he came to consider, that
in declining the encounter of Deliment, he should deprive himself of mine, love was stronger
in him then spight; and the conversation of his Enemy was not so redoubtable, as the hope
of mine was sweet unto him. Howbeit imagining, that the Princess would visit him during
his feigned sickness, and that I, being her Confident, would not fail to accompany her
thither, spight re-assumed its former place, and made him execute his resolution. The
next day he feigned himself sick, and would let no body see him; but fearing lest
Axiamira should be troubled at it, he sent her word, that she should not be disquited for it, assuring her, that the greatest remedy he had need of was her conversation
or to be alone. The Princess understood well enough what the Prince desired of her,
so that as soon as she had met with occasion fit for it, she went to see Mahamed, carrying none with her but an old Governess, one of my fellows, and me. But Perca, having
understood that Axiamira was gone to see Prince Mahamed, who was not well, perswaded
Ismael and Deliment to go thither too; so that we were hardly arrived at Mahamed's
chamber, but we were advertised, that this Enemy troop was coming to trouble our rest.
The Prince was so enraged at it, as Axiamira, fearing he should be carryed to some violence,
made haste to be gone, so that meeting them in the anti-chamber, where she stay'd them, she
told them that the Prince being asleep, she would not suffer him to be awaked, and thereby
obliged them to return. In the mean time Mahamed, who could not forbear giving me to
understand, that he lived still for me, called to him his guide, named Amariel, who oftentimes served him also for a Secretary. He recommends secrecy and discretion to him, and
after he had made him swear an hundred false oaths, he dictates a letter unto him for me, which
he wrote very faithfully; And having caused him to read it over more then once unto him,
he gives him order to go the next morning for to know how the Princess does, and then to deliver me that letter as secretly as he could. Amariel promises to acquit himself thereof as he
ought; and very glad of his adventure, he retires from the Prince, and goes with all speed to
do an act of fideliey to the Sophi, and of treachery to Mahamed. The Sophi caresses him extraordinarily, and taking the letter with very much impatience, he sees that it was extreamly
passionate, and that Deliment's suspicions were not ill grounded. He sent immediately for
him, shewed him the letter which he had, and exceedingly moved with choller, demanded
what counsel he should take? Deliment, as more cunning, and less preoccupated, told him,
how by this letter well considered one might easily see, that Mahamed was passionately in
love with me, but that one could not judg, whether I answered his passion or no; so that to
be cleared therein, Amariel was to deliver this letter to me, and crave an answer of it. That
for his part, he beleeved that I did not hate him, because one of Perca's maids had heard me
say somewhat, as she went out of Axiamira's chamber, that made him think so. This resolution being taken, Amariel according to his directions came unto me, rendred me Mahameds
letter, and gave me the commodity to answer it. For whereas he was come very early, the
Princess was not yet awake, and I was still in my chamber, without any other company then
a maid that waited on me. Until then, I had beleeved, that I was not obliged to let Ulama
know any thing of Prince Mahamed's love; but when I foresaw that it was like to have
some sequel, I resolved, when I could finde a favorable occasion, to say something to him of
it; and in the mean time so to live with Mahamed, as he should have no cause to be offended with me, nor yet hope to engage me to the affection which he desired of me. I answered
him with a great deal of respect, and turning the sence of his words as dextrously as could,
I answered to a letter of love, as is it had been a letter of friendship. Amariel had no sooner
gotten mine answer, but he went away very well satisfied to the Sophi, who was not sorry to see, that I had not so much affection for Mahamed, but that he might hope to be able to




break it. He consulted then with his ordinary counsel, that is to say withDeliment, and
they resolved together, that from thence forward they would change the Letters which the
Prince should cause to be written to me, because for so much as they could judg by that which
they had seen they would be too well endited, and too passionate; purposing also, if it fell out that I should answer him too obligingly, not to let it be read so to Prince Mahamed:
who, as if fortune would be assistant to our Enemies, became so sick indeed, as he was fain
to keep his chamber fifteen days together; In which time, there past not a day, wherein he
did not write unto me, and I did not answer him, without ever knowing for all that what
we said one to another; because the Sophi retained all Mahamed's Letters, and caused others
to be written to me; and likewise kept all my answers, in making me speak as he pleased.
I confess that many times I marvelled at the questions, wherewith those Letters, which I
beleeved were Mahamed's, were filled: and confronting the first I received from him with
the rest I found so great a difference between them, were it for the gracefulness of the stile,
or for the things he said to me, as I knew not what to think of it. Nevertheless, seeing it was
always the same hand, and receiving them the same way, all I could conclude upon it was,
That the blindness of this poor Prince possessed him with such thoughts for love, as never
any body had the like but he. For whereas the Sophi's and Deliment's design was, to render
Mahamed contemptible to me, they made him write strange things by Amariel. Sometimes they made this blinde Prince say, that he was grieved he did not see me; that the beauty of my eyes was always present before him; in another Letter, that for the more conformity he would willingly that I had been blinde as he was, and the rather for that then I should
not see the Sophi, whom he knew to be his Rival. In another, he conjured me to let him
have my pidure, and to send him word whether I were fair or brown. I leave you to think,
since I could not despise Mahamed, because I esteemed him very much other-ways, whether
these Letters did not move me to compassion; and though Deliment's cunning did always
intermix someehing of the Sophi among, yet I had always so much discretion, or good hap,
as not to make any answer to that particular. But if Deliment drew up such sensless Letters
for Mahamed, those which he made for me, as I understood afterwards, were not much
more reasonable. And the Prince hath told me, that when Amariel read them to him, he
could not chuse but make him read them over again and again. It was not because Deliment,
who ordinarily dictated them, had made them very obliging, but because the Prince, finding
them so badly pen'd, was perswaded that it was Amariel's fault, who read them ill; for he
could not imagine, that a person, whose wit seemed worthy of his esteem, should express
her thoughts with so bad a grace; and to that effect, he made him read them over many times,
that he might be able to discern the faults of the Reader, from those which they made to pass
for mine.
But whil'st the malice of Deliment triumphed over the Sophi's facility, and our innocency,
Mahamed being well amended, caused himself to be led to the Princesses lodging, to render
her his first visit, or to say betcer, to have a pretext to give me one. For he hath told me since,
how he was not without impatience to hear me talk, to the end he might know, whether I
had still the same wit, which he had so much prized in me. He did not marvel, that I had
always answered him with rigor enough, because he might well think that mine own vertue,
and the fear of committing my self to the discretion of him that was to read my Letters, would
carry me thereunto; but to say things from the purpose to him, was that which he could not
comprehend. As long as his sickness had lasted, the Princess Axiamira had been often enough
to visit him, but Perca had most commonly been in her company, so that we spake not together, until that coming, as I have said, one morning to visit Axiamira, with a purpose, if he
found her alone, to declare to her the passion which he was in for me; not finding her yet awake,
and making as though he would attend till she was, he caused himself to be led to my chamber; when he came thieher, I had almost done reading a Letter from Ulama, who, provoked
by the force of his passion, and the fear he was in left the Sophi's love should prevail with me
more then his, conjured me to remember the promises which I had made him; never to love
any but him; and consequently, passed over again all the testimonies of affection which I had
rendred him, that so he might oblige me not to deprive him of it.At first, then Mahamed entred into my chamber, I thought to have hid the Letter which
I held, but suddenly calling to minde that he was blinde, I laughed at my providence, and so




much the more, for that he had commanded Amariel to stay in a gallery, through which one
was to pass for to come into my chamber. When I saw my self alone with Mahamed, except it were a maid that served me, and in whom I confided in all things, I was taken with
such impatience to make an end of reading Ulama's Letter, as presently after the first civilities, I began to unfold it as softly as possibly I could, and without answering precisely to
Mahamed's discourses I read that which Ulama writ unto me.  Mahamed, who certainly
hath a great deal of understanding, and that according to the custom of the blinde is always
a little suspicious, though out of discretion he makes as little shew of it as may be, hearing
the noise which the Letter made in turning it from the one side to tbe other, (for it was indifferent long) imagined that there was some mystery in it which he did not comprehend; that
peradventure the Sophi had during his sickness absolutely gained me, and that the paper
which I held, and whereof he heard the noise, was a Letter from him, or from Deliment; In so grievous a thought, this so wise and so moderate a Prince could not resist the temptation of clearing himself of a doubt, which gave him so much unquietness; so that at such time
as I never dream'd of it, and that I was folding up Ulama's Letter again, and deeply muling
on that which I had read, Mahamed directing his hand by the noise which I made in doing
it up, chance led it so just where it should be, that he snatched it from me sooner then I was
able to withstand him. I must needs know, said he, amiable Felixana, whether this blessed
Paper, which hath kept you from answering me, merits the honor you do it to my prejudice.
My Lord, said I unto him exceedingly troubled, if you could see what is in this Letter, I
would not resist your pleasure; but since you cannot know what it is but by a third person,
permit that I may conjure you to render it me. This extream earnestness that I shewed to
draw that Paper out of his hands was that which provoked his curiosity the more; and though
he did infinitely fear to displease me, yet did he fear much more to be over-reached. And
then again, beleeving Amariel to be very faithful, he thought he should hazard nothing, in
resolving to let him read it. In this opinion the more I importuned him, the more did he
defend himself from according that which I required; and I verily beleeve that in so great a
trouble I should have told him the truth of the matter, and confided in his generosity, if
Deliment, who had been advertised that Prince Mahamed was in my chamber, had not come
thither with Ismael, of whom he made use upon all occasions, to trouble our conversation.
For he feared that so particular an interview would discover the trick they had playd us; and
that thinking to destroy our friendship, they should settle it better then before. But that
which they feared was far from arriving, for Mahamed and I had other manner of thougts
then to entertain our selves with Letters, which we had received from one another. When
first I saw Ismael and Deliment, I testified a great deal of unquietness; and addressing my
self to Mahamed with an anger, which I had not much ado to counterfeit: You perceive my
Lord, said I unto him, that bad examples are soon followed; and that the liberty which
you have taken to enter into my chamber, hath drawn in a company, which I ought not to
have admitted without the commandment of the Princess. The Princess, replyed Deliment,
doth she dispose of all your actions? Yes, said I unto him, and so absolutely, as I am
incapable of ever disobeying her. So that, continued he, if one were in lovewith you, must
he address himself to the Princess? That he must without doubt, answered I him roundly; for I beleeve her to be so just, as she will never force me in things, whereupon depend
all the felicity, or all the infelicity of my life. We had, it may be, continued in further talk,
had not one come and advertised them, that Axiamira was awake, and that they might see
her. They left me then to go to her; howbeit Prince Mahamed stay'd not long in the Princesses chamber; and that he might part from thence with civilicy, he made as though he found
himself not well upon going forth so soon after his sickness, and retired to his lodging as
speedily as he could.
When he came there, he commanded Amariel to clear the room, and after he had assured
him that they were alone, he gave him the Letter which be had taken from me, and willed him
to read it. But he was strangely amazed, when as he knew by the reading of this Letter,
that I had been a long time engaged in affection to some one. For, as I have told you, Ulama
had run over welneer all that had ever passed betwixt us. He very well perceived by the
stile of this Letter, that it was from a man of quality, and who feared lest the Sophi's love
should make me change; but whereas it had no name, and that the Princes blindness did not




Permit him to know Ulama's hand, he could not divine who it should be, and in this uncertainty he endured such pain as cannot be exprest; and said things which afterwards moved me to pity when he recounted them unto me; it being most certain that the privation of his sight was never so sensible to him as in this occasion.In the mean time Amariel, who was cunning and dextrous, judging that it much imported the Sophi to see this Letter, and fearing the Prince would keep this paper, he folded up one, that was by chance on the Table, in the same form that the other was, to the end he might change it. And truly this forecast of his was not in vain, for indeed Mahamed, after he had caused this fatal Letter to be read again, re-demanded it of him, and getting to bed with that same paper, which Amariel had foysted in, by reason of a weakeness wherewith he was taken by the excessive agitation of his spirits, he gave that Traytor the liberty to go forth. He presently made use of the opportunity; and causing the Sophi to be advertised that he had something to say to him, he had audience instantly. He acquainted Tachmas with Mahamed's visit at my lodging; his unquietness at his return; and at last shewed him Ulama's Letter, which he knew as soon as he had opened it; for he had seen many of his writing, at such time as he was in War with the Azemites, and rendred him an account of his victories. 
He sent immediately then for Deliment, that was newly come from the Princess Axiamira, whom he had found yet more rebellious then she used to be. As soon as he
appeared, I will no longer seek, said he unto him, for that which is the cause of Felixana's
rigor and that which makes her despise my presents, my love, and even the hope of my
Crown; for it was true, that Deliment entertained me dayly with such like matters. I think,
my Lord, answered Deliment, how that which renders Felixana inflexible is, That the knowledg of your greatness permits her not to beleeve, that you will forget it for her advantage;
and the refusals which she makes, are nothing doubtless but that she may be the more strongly assured of that which she desires it may be more then you. No such matter, replyed the
Sophi, and this which I have here will certainly make you change your opinion; in saying
so, he shewed him Ulama's Letter, whereby they knew but too well the good-will that was
betwixt us, and how much he was informed of that which the Sophi bore me. At first,
all Tachmas thoughts ran into violence; he would commit me to prison; he would destroy
Ulama; and his gentlest resolutions were at least to banish him.
But Deliment, who always joyned cunning to wickedness, told him, that the first thing
he should do, was, to banish Felixana from the heart of Ulama, and Ulama from the heart
of Felixana; that to begin by the easiest, Ulama was to be dextrously acquainted, that I
had a particular commerce with Mahamed; and that to perswade him the better thereunto,
he was to be shewed some of the letters which I had written to the Prince, and which they had
retained; leting him know, in giving them to him, that they were the first he had received from
me; that to disquiet him further, his own Letter was to be shewed him, with an assurance
that I had put it into his hands, for to give him an undoubted mark of my affection; and that
at the very same time, when as this trick had excited trouble in his soul, he was to be commanded to get instantly out of the Palace, and the next day from the Court, with order to
retire to the Province, whereof he was Governor; to the end he might not have leasure to
clear himself to me; and that beleeving he was betrayed, he might have the less care to let me
hear from him. That things being in these terms, it would be the easier to vanquish me, because not knowing the occasion which Ulama had to be incensed against me, I would take it
ill that he did neither write to me, nor see me before his departure. That the most important
point of this affair was, to be so well assured of all those which came neer me, as I might receive no Letters from Ulama; and that in fine, the absence of a Lover was a great advantage
for a Rival.
The Sophi found this advice to be very good, and thinking on nothing but how to execute it, they turned their eyes upon one of Mahamed's Officers, that had before times served
Ulama, who had rid himself of him by reason of his bad inclinations. They caused him
to be sought out, and having immediately found and suborned him, he without further delay (after he had been instructed by Deliment what to say, and had Ulama's Letter, and three
of those which I had written to Mahamed, put into his hands) went directly to Ulama
whom I could not yet advertise of that which had past betwixt the Prince and me, because
the Sophi's love disquieted him so much, as he could not resolve to see me, for fear of giving



too much notice of his thoughts; and therefore to keep him from it, he made as though he
were exceedingly busied about the affairs of Caramania, where the Sophi intended to make
some Levies: Yet heard I for all that from him every day by that faithful Slave which he sent
to you, and you have brought to me.
This Agent of the Sophi's found him then in such an estate as they desired for the surprizing
of him; he came to him, and finding him alone, makes him a long discourse of the inclination which he had always had to his service; protesting unto him that he would never relinquish it; that he acknowledged him still for his Master, and that to render him a proof of
his affection, he came, without considering Prince Mahamed's interests, to advertise him of
a Treason which I committed against him. Ulama upon this occasion had a secret suspicion of this mans malice; and imagined that he was sent unto him to discover whether there
were any intelligence beewixt us; so that nothing moved with this discourse, I thank thee, said he unto him, for thy zeal and affection; but know, my friend, that Felixana may well
disoblige me, but cannot betray me, having had no commerce with her, nor having ever
trusted any thing to her discretion. I perceive very well, my Lord, answered this man,
that you do not trust in mine; but it may be this Letter, which I present you with, will better
perswade my fidelity unto you. In saying so, he gave him that which he had written to me.
You may judg now whether Ulama were astonished when he came to know it; Howbeit
this first motion being over, he imagined further, that I peradventure might have lost it, and
some one have found it. But the cunning of this man left him not long in this opinion; for seeing Ulama moved, and capable of being perswaded, he told him, That Prince Ulama had
loved me a great while, and that I also loved him; That so long as he beleeved, that there
could no other harm arrive to him, then to be deceived by me, he durst not betray Mahamed; but having seen by the Letter, which he had written to me, and which, he said, I had
put into the Princes hands, that he spake in such sort, as if it came to the Sophi's knowledg,
his fortune would be utterly ruined; he was resolved to make use of the Princes blindness to
draw it with address from out of his hands; and, my Lord, continued he, to shew you that
I speak, truth, I have taken also three of the Letters which Felixana hath written to the
Prince in the beginning of their affection; for as for the rest, I durst not meddle with them,
because as they are more obliging, so the Prince makes them to be read unto him almost dayly by Amariel, who is the Confident of this love.Ulama harkened to this discourse, looked on her Letters and his, knew the hands, and
no longer doubting of my infidelity, he thanked this wicked man, and asked him an hundred
questions about the love that was between the Prince and me. But the other fearing that he
would demand so many things of him, as in the end he might contradict himself in some one
or other, he besought him he would be pleased to let him depart, for fear lest if any of Prince
Mahamed's Officers should see him go out of his lodging so long after he was entred into
it, they might suspect the truth. Ulama deceived by this artifice, dismissed him, promised
to recompence him, and prays him to continue advertising what should pass betwixt Prince
Mahamed and me.
He was hardly out of Ulama's chamber, when, according to Deliment's advice, that old
Satrap, whom as I have told you he had corrupted, came and commanded him from the
Sophi to go instantly out of the Palace, and the next day to depart to his Government, until
he received further order. And whereas Ulama importuned him to tell him, why he was
entreated after that manner? The Satrap answered him, That the Sophi onely knew it; and
that he had charged him not to leave him till he was out of the Palace. Seeing there is nothing more resting for me, answered Ulama, but to give marks of my obedience, having
given enough already of my fidelity and courage in other occasions, let us obey without murmuring. He had no sooner said so, but he prepared to be gone; howbeit suddenly remembering, that he left all the Letters which I had written him in his Cabinet, he went boldly
thither to take them away; and without knowing whether it were out of a sense of choller
or love, either to teer or preserve them, he took a little China coffer, wherein they were,
the old Satrap, who walked fairly and softly before, never perceiving it.
But whil'st these things passed in such sort, Prince Mahamed, who had layd himself on
his bed by reason of a weakness wherewith he had been taken, re-assumed new forces, and
calling for Amariel, he was told that he was gone forth, bur for all that he arose, and caused



himself to be led by another to Axiamira's lodging, whom he found alone, Ismael and Deliment being gone from thence a good while before, and I was not yet come unto her: For the adventure of Ulama's Letter, which the Prince had snatched from me, kept me in so great an unquietness, as I knew not what resolution to take. I feared to discover my self to the Princess, doubting lest she should take it ill, that I had concealed from her the affection of the Prince, and that of Ulama. Neither durst I acquaint Ulama with that which was arrived unto me, for fear he should imagine, that without this cross adventure, I would have told him nothing of Mahamed's love; and I judged also that it would not be very easie for me to oblige the Prince to render me Ulama's Letter, whensoever I should be able to speak with him, which I saw well was at that time absolutely impossible. In this irresolution I gave the Prince leasure to visit the Princess Axiamira, who, as I have told you, was alone, when as he came into her chamber. At his first arrival there, he commanded him that led him to get him forth, and after he had demanded of the Princess, whether he might speak without being heard of
any but her self? and that she had answered him how he might speak
safely; he requested her to pardon him two things, and to accord him one.
And when as the Princess had promised him that which he desired; All the grace that I
demand of you, continued he, is, That you will not think amiss of me, when I shall have told
you that I have a long time loved Felixana; and the second, That you will pardon me, if the respect which I have born you hath kept me from acquainting you with it sooner. But when
as you have granted me the pardon of these two things, you must also, to keep your word with
me, promise not to intreat Felixana the worse for it. For though I am at this present not very
well satisfied of her, and that it is rather choller then love, which carries me to the entertaining of you upon this subject, yet I cannot resolve for all that to hurt her. You acquaint me with
so many strange things at once, said the Princess unto him, as I doubt whether I should beleeve them; for to tell me that you are in love with the beauty of Felixana and that Felixana,
in whom I confide in all things, should make your affection a secret unto me, is that which I
cannot comprehend, and that which I shall not beleeve, unless you give me stronger proofs of
it. I did not say to you, replyed the Prince, That I am in love with the beauty of Felixana,
but indeed that I love Felixana; And beleeve, dear sister, that the beauty wherewith I am
taken, though it wounds not tbe heart through the eyes, yet leaves not touching it very powerfully; but in conclusion I am not come hither to tell you what hath made me in love, but onely
that I am so. As for Felixana, that which hath kept her,as I conceive, from speaking to you of
that affection which I had for her, is, that she hath none for me. And would to heaven!
cryed he, That she had not concealed a thing from you, which without doubt touches her more
sensibly at the heart. Whereupon he recounted unto her the discourses which he had used to
me; the answers which I had made thereunto; the letters which he had written to me, the
returns I had made him; and at last acquainced her how he had snatched away a letter from
me, whereat I had shewed a great deal of unquietness; and that having caused Amariel to
read it to him, he had found it to be a Love-letter, and had thereby understood that I had been
a long time engaged in affection to him that wrote it unto me, and who questionless (as might
be judged by that which he said) ought to be a man of great quality; That his misfortune
not permiting him to know the hand, he requested her to read it, that he might at leastwise be
assured of the name of his Rival. Saying so, he presented her with that foisted paper, which
Amariel had given him in stead of Ulama's letter, and the Princess having taken and opened
it, without finding any thing written therein, could not chuse but sigh, and lament the misfortune of this poor Prince.
Surely, said she unto him, you have deceived your self in taking one paper for another, for
I see nothing in this same. O Sister! said the Prince, who little suspected the wickedness
that had been done him, speak the truth; you know the hand of this letter, but out of discretion you will not tel it me, and by this adress you would draw it out of my hands. No such matter replyed the Princess, and I assure you that I have spoken seriously: Why did you sigh then,
continued he, in unfolding this letter? it was, answered the Princess, because I saw it was
none; and that this adventure which would have made one that had not loved you laugh, hath
made me pity your misfortune; but it may be you have this paper still. No, no, said he, for it
was made up in such an extraordinary fashion, as made me know it, and quite different from
Felixana's letters which I have also brought you, and from which I never parted since I recei-ved them. The Princess, impatient to see what I had written to the Prince, took one of the
letters which he presented to her, and having read it, was as much surprised as before.
I think you well remember, generous Ibrahim, that all the letters which I had written to
Mahamed were in the Sophi's hands, and that those which Amariel had given to the Prince
had been all dictated by Deliment, and written with an unknown hand. So that whertas the
Princess knew perfectly my hand, I cannot tell, said she to Mahamed, whether you will beleeve that which I am going to say to you; but I am assured that Felixana never wrote the
letters which you have shewed me. Certainly, answered the Prince, if I could doubt of your
love, I should not beleeve that which you tell me; but, my dear sister, if I durst I would intreat you to read them aloud, that I may know whither by any inchantment the sence hath
been altered as well as the hand, which Amariel hath always assured me was Felixana's.
The Princess, to satisfie him, read two of those letters, which the Prince acknowledged to be
the same he had heard before. I should beleeve, said the Princess then to him, that Felixana
knowing you could not see but with the eyes of another, hath counterfeited her hand, or it may
be hath caused these letters to be written with an unknown one, for fear lest some of them
should be seen, or lost; but that which perswades me there is something in the matter which
we cannot comprehend, is, That they are nothing like to Felixana's stile, which I know very
well; for I saw almost every letter that she sent to Mazanderon when as she wrote to her
Father. I cannot for all that comprehend, replyed the Prince, what trick there should be in this;
for surely Amariel is faithful to me, and yet the letters which I have shewed you are not so
obliging as Felixana's discourse used to be, when I entertained her. At length after they had
reasoned well together about it, without being able to comprehend ought therein, and had
sent a faithful person to the Princes chamber to search for Ulama's letter, they resolved to
send for me, at that very time when as having striven to banish shame and tear from my minde,
I had resolved to go and cast my self at the Princesses feet, and to rely more upon her affection
then on mine own innocence. I arrived then at her chamber just as she commanded one to
go for me; which I had no sooner heard, as I was coming in, but seeing tbe Prince with her,
and a many of Letters on the Table, with a paper made up in the same manner as Ulama's
was, which the Prince had taken from me, I no longer doubced but that the Princess knew
the truth of everything, for I could not be ignorant that she was well acquainced with 
Ulama's hand; So that falling on my knees before her, I perceive very well, Madam, said I
unto her, that all my faults are known to you, and that coming with a purpose to accuse my
self, there is nothing mere left for me to do, then to beg your pardon for them, after I had
tryed nevertheless to render them more excusable then the incensed spirit of Prince Mahamed would make them appear to you. Complain not of the Prince, answered Axiamira,
since if he be culpable of any thing, it is of being too little sensible of your fault; which
yet I ought not to condemn in him, since notwithstanding the injury you have done me, I
have indulgence enough still to hear your reasons, or rather your excuses. After I had
thanked the Princess for this grace, I began to recount unto her all that had past betwixt Ulama and me; for whereas I beleeved that I saw his Letter lie by the Princess, and that I was
sure she knew his charader, I disguised nothing unto her: But for so much as regarded the
Prince, I could not tell very well how to speak of it; for not knowing what he had said to
Axiamira, I feared to displease him, if I should deliver things as they had past. Howbeit
the Princess, having marked my unquietness; Fear not, said she, to speak of the affection
which my brother bears you, seeing I am not ignorant of any one circumstance of it: Nevertheless, to justifie the relation which he hath, and which you have also made to me of it, I
will know it from your mouth too.Whereupon I recounted all that I have said to you concerning it; his discourses, his letters,
and that of Ulama, but with so much sinceriey, as it served not a little to perswade the Princess that I had done the like for so much as regarded Ulama, as indeed I did not disguise the
truth unto her. But why, said she to me, when as Ulama testified his love to you, and that
you disliked not the marks he gave to you thereof, did not you advertise me of it? And why,
being engaged in affection to Ulama, did you in an sort suffer that of the Prince? And why
did you not at least-wise let me understand it? Madam, said I unto her, if you please to hear me, it maybe you will finde, that though I be not innocent, yet I am not very faulty.
When as Ulama began to be in love with you, I took no great heed of it; and when as I




perceived it, I regarded it not much; but as soon as I began to take pleasure in his discretion, to consider his vertue, and his generosity, coming to reflect on the thoughts which I had for him, I found that he had too much engaged my heart; and I was in such a confusion at it, as I could never resolve to discover my weakness unto you. But, Madam, shall I dare to make you a complice in it? and tell you, that nothing ever rendred Ulama more amiable unto me, then the esteem that you made of him, and the passion he was in for your service. Yes, Madam, I am daring enough for it, as also to tell you further, that finding my self every day
and more faulty, by the encrease of the good-will I bare to Ulama, and by making a
secret of it to you, I could never obtain so much resolution of my self as to speak to you of it; especially in a time, when as the bad designs of the Sophi, and the insolence of Deliment
troubled your minde so much. For, Madam, think not, I beseech you, that my silence hath
been a mark of my crime, seeing whatsoever obligation I had to Ulama, the respect which
I owe to you hath been always preserved; and I never promised Ulama to be his wife, but
upon condition that it should be agreeable to you. This is a thing which I will make apparant
to you by his Letters, and which he can shew you by mine. For what concerns the Prince, I
will acknowledg to you, that honoring him as I do, after those testimonies of affection which
he hath done me the honor to render me, and which I have not received but with respect, I
thought I should have committed a fault against you, and been ingrateful to him, if I should
have acquainced you, that this Prince, whom you esteem of with so much reason, had
had a passion unworthy of him. I was unwilling then that you should be able to accuse
the Prince for the same thing, which you condemned in the Sophi, nor would I have had
him lose your love for his favor to me. And to testifie to you how I have thought of his Interests, I would not even let Ulama know the Princes good-will to me, for fear lest jealousie,
which always chaseth reason from them whom she seizeth upon, should cary Ulama to be
the less affectionate to tbe Prince, whose affection I have not received with so much correspondence, as that he might expect the like from me. And if you please, Madam, to exa- amine the Letters well, which I have written to him, you shall finde that I received the
marks of his passion, as testimonies of his friendship, and not as protestations of his love.
The Princess then taking one of the Letters that was on the Table, opened, and began
to read it; but hearing things which I never wrote: Oh, Madam, said I unto her, I have not written that which you read. You have not written it, said the Prince! No my
Lord, continued I, and I am well assured that my memory doth not deceive me. It may
be, said the Princess to me, that your Secretary hath not followed your intentions right. I
had no Secretary, said I to her mightily surprized; and whereas the Letters, which I wrote
to the Prince, had nothing in them that I might be afraid they should be seen, I always wrote
them with mine own hand. The Princess knowing by my face that I spake sincerely, gave me
the Letter that she held, which I presently saw to be none of mine, whereat the Princess was
not a little disquieted. Without all doubt, said she to the Prince, Amariel hath betrayed you, and Ulama's Letter is in our enemies hands. Ulama's Letter, said I unto her! and do I not
see it amongst those that lie there by you? No truly do you not, answered Axiamira; and then she told me, how it had been exceedingly sought for, but could not be found.Hereupon I fell a crying and lamenting: Ah! Madam, said I under her, if the Sophi knows that Ulama loves me, what usage, do you think, will he receive for it? consider, Madam, that he is the onely man that can oppose Deliment's violences; and it may be that he is the onely one that hath kept him hitherto from coming with open force, both against you, and against me. The Prince, perceiving the affliction wherein I was, and remembering how he had understood by my relation, that I was engaged in affection to Ulama before he had discovered his to me, suffered his minde to be touched with that which he bare to Ulama, with the complaints I made, or to say better, with his own generosity. Be assured, said he unto me, aimable Felixana, reaching out his hand to that side where he heard me speak, that if I have troubled the peace of your affection, by that which I have born to you, I will henceforward be the protector of it; and provided that you will here in the presence of the Princess promise me your friendship, and will conserve me that also of Ulama, I do engage my self to follow your fortune, and to employ all that an unhappy Prince can do, to restore you to that content which I have taken from you. As we were at this point, one came and told the Princess, that a Slave of Ulama's earnestly desired to speak with her; I changed 




colour at this discourse, but presently after I was too certain of my unhappiness. For the Slave, whom Ulama hath sent to you, presented a Note to the Princess, wherein, a little
after, she read that which you are going to hear: For whereas it was not long, and that we
have read it over often enough, it hath always continued in my memory.ULAMA'S Note to the Princess AXIAMIRAIF I did not know that in banishing me from the Court, you are deprived of the most faithful and most zealous of your servants, I should obey without murmuring, and I should
absent my self with joy from a place, where vertue is not found but in the Princess Axiamira,
who, whither soever fortune doth carry me, may always dispose absolutely of me.There is no longer doubt to be made of it, said the Princess, after she had read this Note,
but that Ulama's Letter is in the Sophi's hands; and this banishment is an effect of his jealousie. To tell you, my Lord, in what a case I was in, hearing by the Note to the Princess,
that Ulama made no exception but of her alone, would be an impossible thing, as well as
to recount unto you that which I said in this occasion; the lamentation that Prince Mahamed made; the pardons that he begged of me; and the sorrow Axiamira was in, to see herself
deprived of the onely man, in whom she confided; and withall, it would be too long and
too wearisom a discourse; but in fine, the Princess, having caused that Slave to relate unto
her in what manner Ulama went out of the Palace, told him, That if he had any thing to
say to me from his Master, he might do it without fear; and I having confirmed that which
the Princess said to him, he gave me a Note, which I shall never forget, and whose very words
were these.
ULAMA'S Note to FELIXANA.IF you had not betrayed me, I should have dyed with grief, rather then have absented
my self from you; but after your infidelity, my banishment is a grace; since I quitted
not Felixana, till Felixana abandoned me. I cannot for all that resolve to part, without
telling her once for all, that I part the most infortunate of all men living; and that if the
end of my life may assure her felicity, she shall soon be in the estate that I desire her
to be in.The end of the reading hereof was to me the beginning of the sharpest grief that ever I
felt: And the alone thought of being beleeved unfaithful by a man, for whom I refused the
Crown of Persia, was so strange a torment to me, as my reason is not strong enough to retain the resentment which I had of it. What! Madam, said I to the Princess, can you live
in a place where such wickednesses are committed? and against persons that appertain to
you? Was it not enough to banish Ulama, without perswading him by some imposture,
which is unknown to me, that I had betrayed him? and it may be it is I which causes him
to be banished. This artifice doubtless hides some greater design, then the separating of us;
and I greatly fear that this violence will quickly be followed by another; and that after they
have taken from you the onely defender which you had here, you will know by your experience, that you have as much interest, as Felixana, in the conservation of Ulama. For surely Deliment thinks not so much of contenting the Sophi's passion, as of satisfying that which
he hath for you: And this Insolent regards you without doubt, as a reward that was destined
to him for the conquest which he pretends to make of me; but I am right certain that death
shall deny me her succor, or he shall never triumph in this sort. The Princess seeing a great deal
of probability in that which I said, could not chuse but accompany my tears with hers; and
Mahamed was so afflicted, as athwart my sorrow I saw his resentment.
But at last, for the better clearing of the matter, it was demanded of that Slave, what
Ulama had done all the day, and what he had seen? Then he related, how one of Prince
Mahamed's Officers came unto him; had talked with him in secret, and given him some letters, which very much afflicted him; and that immediately after he had received the commandment to be gone. But in what place is Ulama at this present, said the Princess?




Madam, answered the Slave, as soon as he had written, at one of his friends house, the two Notes, which I have brought, he presently took horse, and departed, after he had commanded me to meet him this night at a place where he is to lie. This man, said the Prince, must not be retained any longer, for fear lest Ulama's melancholly should make him change his resolution. This advice seeming good, the Princess commanded me to go and write to him in her Cabinet, as she also would do; and whereas I looked upon her, scarce daring to tell her my thought; I understood you well enough, said she unto me, you would have me justifie you to Ulama: and I, said Mahamed interrupting her, would have Felixana excuse me to him.In conclusion, generous Ibrahim, the Princess wrote to Ulama, and so did I, but with so many protestations of mine innocency, as if for that once his minde was not fully satisfied,
yet was it at the least more quiet, and his despair was turned into a more moderate affliction.
Mahamed also would gladly have been able himself to have sent some marks of his friendship to Ulama, but he was fain to assure him by the hand of the Princess, that he would always be his friend, without ever being his Rival again. These Letters being written, the
fear lest they should be intercepted came into my minde; so that to prevent it, the Princess
sent for an old Slave, whom she had proved to bevery faithful, and having given them to
him, she commanded him to attend that of Ulama at that gate of the City where he was to
pass, and there to deliver them to him in such sort, as no body might perceive it. This providence was not in vain, for this Slave of Ulama's was no sooner come forth of the Princesses
lodging, but he was arrested by Deliment's order, and asked for the Letters which he carryed to
Ulama; but knowing very well that he had none, he answered without daunting, how he
was ready to make it appear that they were mistaken; and said further, that his Master having
had no time to take his leave of the Princesses, and none of his servants being with him but
he, he had sent him with a complement to them; and whereas he was hard by Perca's lodging, he would have gone in there, to give the more colour to this officious lye; howbeit they
would not permit him till they had throughly searched him all over, to see if he had spoken
the truth: And when they found that he had not that which they thought he had had, they
let him go, and so he finished his voyage, after he had taken our Letters from him to whom
we had committed them.
As for us, seeing the matter in these terms, we resolved that the Princess should assure her
self of them, whom she beleeved were faithful unto her, by new protestations of the affection they had promised her. That I should write secretly to my Father, to the end that if we
were enforced to have recourse to extream remedies, and that flight was the onely one that
rested for us, Mazanderon might be in an estate to receive us. That in the mean time, to
prevent the Sophi, before he had taken his last resolutions, we should publish the business,
complain to all the world of Deliment's insolency; and that the next morning she should go
and request the Sophi to forbid him from ever seeing her again; because it might be, that he
durst not so easily then propound a thing to her, whereunto she shewed her self so averse, as
when disguising her thoughts in the maner she had always done, he might seem to be ignorant
that she had so much repugnancy unto it. That to perplex him so much the more, she should
send to entreat five or six persons, that were well affected to her, to be present at the Sophi's
rising the next day; and that afterwards we should frame our designs according to the answer he should make. That Mahamed should by his Governors means do what he could to
cause Amariel to be taken; that for so much as regarded me I should by no means be absent
from the Princess, and that for fear of some violence I should lie in her chamber in the place
of her that always waited upon her there. This resolution was executed, as we had conceived
it; the Princesses friends were advertised, and repaired to the Sophi at the hour assigned them.When the Princess came thither, Deliment was not present, for by good fortune our design
had not been discovered: The Princess was followed by all her maidens, and whereas it was
indifferent early, and that she seemed to be extream sad, the Sophi beleeved that she was come
to beg Ulama's grace of him; so that to prevent her; I perceive very well, said he unto her looking on me, that the tears of some one oblige you to visit me so early, and that Ulama's absence is that which brings you hither; but that I may not be constrained to refuse you, I command you not to speak to me of it. The Princess without daunting told him, Thatthough the banishment of Ulama had both surprized and afflicted her, because she beleeved
him to be the most affected of all his subjects to the good of his Empire, yet the respect which
she bare him would never permit her to murmur at it: And to tell you what hath brought
me hither, continued she, with both a modest and an hardy countenance, it is not to obtain a
grace, but to complain of an outrage which I have received, and for which I come to demand
justice of you, in the presence of those that hear me; for since I hold the publishing of a crime
to be the beginning of punishing it, I would that all your subjects were witnesses of the accusation I am going to make. The Sophi was so surprized with this discourse, that in the confusion he was he never dream'd of Deliment; so that after he had assured her, that he would
protect her against all that would wrong her, she proceeded with more assurance then before.
I have ever beleeved, my Lord, said she unto him, that having the honor to be your daughter,
you would take my interests for your own; and therefore I do not fear to tell you that a man
whose birth is base, whose minde is full of artifice, whose bad inclinations are disguised to
your Majesty, and that hath nothing recommendable but the happiness to please you, because
he conceals all his defects from you; hath had the temerity to pretend to marry me, and to
speak openly to me of love: And though I have forbidden him with all the severity whereof I am capable, yet when he saw that my respect to you kept me from complaining to you of
a man whom you love, he hath continued with so much insolency, that I was not able to suffer it any longer; for, my Lord, having the honor to be your daughter, I should be unworthy
to bear that glorious name, if I could endure, that a man, who without your bounty might
without shame be my slave, should be so audacious as to tell me that he will be my husband.
Pardon me, my Lord, if I am carryed this way in this occasion, since this rash man by his
insolency affronts you no less then me; and your interest is no less considerable to me then
mine own. Howbeit I do not desire that you should deprive your self of his presence, if it
be agreeable unto you, but onely that you will forbid Deliment from ever seeing or speaking
to me more. Behold welnigh after what manner the Princess spake; who, to keep the Sophi
from interrupting her, had so much address, as not to name Deliment, but at the end of her
discourse, which strangely surprized the Sophi.
Now though he was very much in choller, and that he had resolved to make this marriage,
yet durst he not before so much company tell her openly what his minde was: But to disguise
the matter; I see well enough, Axiamira, said he unto her, that Deliment's greatest crime
is your beleeving him to be an enemy to Ulama; howsoever since you have recourse to my
justice,I will neither condemn nor absolve him, till I have heard his reasons, which peradventure will not be so weak as you think: In the mean time be assured, that Deliment shall not say
any thing to you henceforward, but by order from me. The Princess would fain have replyed,
but the Sophi made her a sign to withdraw, which she did with a great deal of respect; leaving the Sophi very much displeased, and all them that had heard her ravished with her generosity, and extreamly wondering at Deliment's insolency, and the little resentment which the
Sophi had shewed. At our going from thence we met with Ismael followed by Deliment, who,
knowing nothing of what the Princess had done, would have obliged the Prince to conduct
her to her lodging: But Axiamira beholding him with contempt, said unto him with an incensed voyce; I forbid thee from the Sophi to follow or to speak to me; and if thou wilt
know the cause of it, repair to him, and thou shalt learn that at last my patience hath given
place to my generosity; and that I am declared thy most mortal enemy. Deliment, surprised
with a discourse which he expected not, could scarce tell what to answer; and we left him
so blank, as he remained a good while in the place without knowing what to do.
But a length, having left Ismael, he went unto the Sophi, who gave him an account of
Axiamira's visit after he had commanded all those forth whom he suspected. Deliment
saw then that it was time for him to employ all his address; and to that effect he cast himself
at the Sophi's feet, beseeches him to remember, how it was by his command that he declared to the Princess the love which he bare her; that had it not been for him, he would rather have dyed, then ever have made any shew of it; but after he had been the author of his
hopes, had augmented his love, and had promised to render it happy, he should rather take
away his life, then take from him the onely thing that could make it agreeable to him, and
without which he would not conserve it. The Sophi, who loved Deliment, seeing him in this
estate, raises him up, assures him that he will vanquish the pride of Axiamira, and how in



this occasion he shall see, that after he hath delt as a Father, he will command as a King, and as a King that will be obeyed. But, added he (as we understood afterwards by one of those that always waited at the Cabinet door, and who from that time forward gave himself absolutely to the Princess) the possession of Felixana, my dear Deliment, must give thee that of Axiamira; Haste thee away then to make profit of Ulama's  absence, that it may be favorable to me; for if it were possible I would have her yeeld her self to me, and not be constrained to have recourse unto violence. My Lord, answered this wicked man, there are certain violences, which have but the name and apparances thereof; and when I reflect on that which regards Felixana, it seems to me that the force one should offer her would be of that number. It is true that she hath loved Ulama, yet I cannot think but that the hope of a crown hath diminished that affection. We have indeed seen the letter which he wrote to her, but we know not the answer to it. Besides, Felixana stands upon her generosity, and because she hath promised Ulama to be absolutely his, she is capable of resisting your Majesty still, though it may be she would be glad in her heart that she might be constrained to fail of her word, to the end she might have a lawful excuse. For so much as concerns your subjects, they could not accuse you of tyranny, since he is no Tyrant that uses no violence, but to render one happy; that forces not the will, but for anothers good; that employs not his power, but for the felicity of him which proves it; and that in conclusion seeks his own contentment, without the oppression of his people,
and without doing wrong or shame to any body. For,
my Lord to say that Felixana is of a birth too unequal to yours, for her to wear the Crown, is
to give too strict bounds unto the Royal Authority. Felixana is noble to satisfie that unjust
Law, which will have it so, but if she were not, that is not to be stood upon, seeing the
power of Kings never shews more, then when it abases the highest, and raises up the most abased: And it is indeed in these encounters, that they may be named the arbitrators of the
unhappiness, or of the felicity of their subjects. After such like discourses. theSophi seemed
to resolve to follow Deliment's advice; but nevertheless before he would execute it, he concluded to speak openly to the Princess Axiamira touthing her marriage; Whereupon if she
resolved not to obey him, they would then have recourse unto force, and constrain her whether she would or no, to that she was so unwilling.I have already told you, illustrious Bassa, how he who waited that day at the Sophi's Cabinet door, over-heard all that I have recounted unto you; for the passion, wherewith
Deliment was carryed away, permitted him not to have so much prudence as to speak low;
neitherdid the Sophi's love and choller leave him the like providence. This man having heard
all these things, felt himself so touched with the mischiefs they were preparing for us, as he
resolved to advertise us of it. It is true indeed, that his generosity was in this occasion excited
by a particular hatred which he bare Deliment, who had many times opposed the advancement of his fortune. At length this man came in the Evening to advertise us of all these
things; after which we also learned that which had past in the trick that Amariel had put
upon as. For Prince Mahamed had caused his ancient Governor so to deal, as he had layd
hold on the Traytor Amariel, who out of the same weakness wherewith he had betrayed
his Master, recounted unto us how Deliment had corrupted him; and how he had carryed all
my letters to the Sophi, who had always caused others to be written for to be sent to Mahamed; from whom likewise they had retained all those which he had made to be written to
me, to give me counterfeit ones in stead of them. That afterwards he had carryed Ulama's
Letter, which he had snatched from me, to the Sophi; who by Deliment's counsel had caused it to fall into Ulama's hands, with three others of those which I had effectively written
to the Prince.  We knew then that Evening all the hurt that they had done us, and all that
which they would do us; whereupon we promised to pardon the Traytor, and to recompence him that was faithful unto us, dismissing them both, with direction to either of them to
be vigilant for the good of the Princess. After these sad news our tears redoubled far more
then before. The Princess would dye, I was fully resoved to follow her, Mahamed was
mad because he could not assist us; and in so great a trouble we lamented our misfortunes,
without knowing how to avoyd them. But in the end the Princes ancient Governor, whom we had acquainted with the deplorable estate of our affairs, told the Princess, that in the terms wherein he saw things were, he did not think it fit for us directly to oppose the Sophi's pleasure; That love, ambition, and choller, were passions too violent, for one to hope to van-




quish them onely by greatness of courage; that the greatest wisdom counselled, when one
cannot decline a mischief, to endevor at least-wise to put it off from us for some time, because in the greatest matters, one day deferred, may cause revolutions which could not be
expected; that death was not a remedy but for evils, which had no other then that; that there
were certain dangerous moments, which if by prudence avoyded, our enemies can no longer
execute their bad designs; that they were to give the Sophi leasure to reflect on that which he
was going to undertake; and to that end, when as he should come to speak to the Princess,
she should have recourse to tears and to prayers, rather then to reason, which he would not
understand: That if they should not be strong enough to divert him from his designs, as it was
very likely they would not, she should then request him to afford her some time to resolve
to obey him. And to the end she might not by her sadness give him new occasions of displeasure, she should demand permission of him to absent her self from the Court for certain
months, with a promise no longer to resist his pleasure when she returned thither again; that
in the mean time it might happen, that the Sophi might repent him; that the love which he
bare me might be altered,or allayed by absence; but, concluded he, the principal is, That Felixana do not remain here. I know full well, answered I, that I will never abandon the
Princess but to dye. And for my part, said the Princess, I know full well that Felixana shall not dye without me, and that I will never abandon her to the violences of my father.In conclusion, generous Ibrahim, without rehearsing this sad conversation to you, it was
resolved, that is the King should accord Axiamira that which she was to demand of him,
and yet would retain me, I should then desire him, with all the shew of sorrow and tenderness I could possibly express, to permit me to follow the Princess; it being credible that the
Sophi would not refuse me the first thing I should crave of him; especially not mentioning at all
my opposing of his pleasure. It was not because the Princesses great heart did not resist the
following this counsel, but because she being unable to finde out any other, was forced to consent unto it. The next day the Sophi came to the Princess, where after he had amplified the
merit, the vertue, and the courage of Deliment, he told her that she was not to take it ill, if
he had had the boldness to speak to her of love, seeing he had not done it but by his order;
because, having resolved to marry her to him, he would have been glad that he should have
got her good-will. My Lord, answered the Princess, with a feigned amazement, if I had
known that the boldness, which Deliment hath used in speaking to me, had been an effect of
his obedience to you, I had received him in another manner, I had not termed him audacious,
I had been contented with complaining, and not accusing of him, and had cast my self at your
feet to cause you to change a design, whereunto I have such an aversion, as I cannot think
of it without grief. The Sophi seeing some change, as it seemed to him, of the Princesses
minde, was extream glad of it; and though he saw she did not render her self, he beleeved
nevertheless, since she came to entreaties, that with some patience he might vanquish her.
This hope was that which induced him the more easily to grant her the request she made him,
to give her time to resolve upon it. And truly he had been the cruellest of all men, if he had
not let himself be moved with the reasons, complaints, supplicacions, and tears of the most
amiable Princess that ever was. But when he had permitted her to go to Mazanderon, which
she had propounded unto him for the passing away of the time of her exile, as in a place
where she had been before times for her pleasure, he told her that she was to leave me behinde
with the Princess Perca, to the end the Court might not be desolated, and for fear also lest
my father having me in his power, should not restore me unto her when she returned. I was
in a corner ofthe chamber, where I understood all that they said; but when I heard this proposition, without thinking of the respect which I owed the Sophi, I interrupting him, cast
my self at his feet, and I said so many things, I shed so many tears, and answered him so favorably to certain questions that he asked of me, and which concerned the design he had upon me, as at length I found, that the tears of a beloved person are very powerful arms; seeing the Sophi granted me that which I demanded of him, though it were absolutely against
his minde. But that Deliment might not have leasure to get the permission which had been
given us to be revoked, we parted away the next morning; yet was it not without dispatching an express to Ulama, who advertised him of all the slights that had been used against
us; of the resolution we had taken; of the place whither we were going; and of all our
affairs. We left Prince Mahamed so afflicted, as I never beheld the like grief. As for Perca,




she seemed to be so too, but indeed she was not sorry to see us go; for though she was willing that Deliment should marry Axiamira, yet did she not much desire that I should be the
Sophi's wife. As for Deliment, it is certain that the permishon which the Sophi had given
us no whit pleased him; but to be secured in some sort, as he is the cunningest man in the
world, he did that which you shall hear, and which extreamly surprized us: for when we
arrived at Mazanderon, we found that my facher was gone from thence to the Court by the
commandment of the Sophi, from whom he had received express order to repair thither with
all speed; and that by the counsel of Deliment, who as soon as he knew that we were gone
to Mazanderon, perswaded the Sophi to send for my father, before we should be arrived
there; and to ordain him to come another way, for fear of meeting us; to the end, said he to
the Sophi, that Felizana, knowing her father in your hands, may not carry the Princess to
disobey you, nor her self to resist you, as hitherto she hath done. I leave you to judg whether this adventure did not give us unquietness enough, especially to me. What! said I,
must I betray Ulama, or abandon my father to the Sophi's violence? Ah, no! I had rather
dye; and not able to satisfie both my duty, and my love to Ulama, I will dye that I may not
be wanting either to the one or the other. But at length we understood by a Letter, which
Prince Mahamed caused his sage Governor to write unto us, and by one that my Father
sent me, how the Sophi entreated him very well, and made him hope for great things.
The first sense of grief then being over, we began to breathe, and take some rest; But
alass! how soon was this rest thwarted? and what a strange remedy did Fortune make use
of, to deliver us both from the Sophi's tyranny, and Deliment's violence! The Princess, to
be free from the importunity which she received by the visits of three or four women of quality, which came too often unto her, had for a good while together accustomed to go a fishing; for, as I have told you, Mazanderon is on the Sea-shore: At the same time there arrived in that Port a Vessel laden with the rarest things that come to us from Europe; but
alass! we knew not that he, who seemed not to come but to traffique, should be our ravisher,
and the cause of our greatest misfortunes. Felixana making a little pause for to sigh, Ibrahim, who was as well acquainted with Rustans artifice as she; I can, said he unto her, fair Felixana, spare you the pains of recounting unto me, how that Merchant going to the Castle
to shew the Princess some Pictures, and Mirrors, saw you, and knew that it was not you he was to carry away by force; and having conferred the picture, which had been given him, beleeving it to be yours, because he that had sold it, had assured so much; having, I say, conferred it with the Princess Axiamira, he found that she was the original of it; and how at length having made a shew of being gone, he one day, as you were taking the ayr on the sea, boarded the Princesses Vessel, carrying you into his, and labored to win her, by perswading her that she would be happy to be in the power of Soliman: in fine, beautiful Felixana, I knew all that hath arrived unto you until your shipwrack; but I confess unto you that I am altogether ignorant by what prodigy you escaped out of it. Felixana was going to proceed on in her discourse, but Ibrahim, seeing it was very late, and conceiving that this history would be long, told her, that how impatient soever he was to hear it, yet good manners was stronger in him then curiosity; and that it being unjust to deprive the Princess Axiamira of a person, that was so agreeable and so necessary to her, he thought it fit she should repair unto her. How in the mean time, he would stay and lodg all night there in the Castle of the seven Towers, to the end he might the next day also learn of her what was requisite for him to know for the Princesses service. Felixana answered him, that she would do whatsoever he pleased; and since he had the goodness to permit her to go and see how the Princess did, she pray'd him that it might be immediately. Ibrahim requested her to assure her of the desire and resolution he had to serve her. And as she was going away, he told her further, that she might take Ulama's Slave along with her, because he had something to say to the Princess, who it might be would be glad to hear from his mouth the marvellous Exploits of his Master. Felixana thanked him also for this favor, and went away to Axiamira's lodging. As for Ibrahim, he dispatched the Governor of the Castle of the seven Towers to the Bassa of the Sea, about an affair that concerned the State; and after he had instucted him, he told him smiling, how for that night he would be responsable to him for the place. This man went presently away, and Ibrahim was conducted to the fairest lodging of the Castle, where he




past away the Evening, and all the night, in thinking of his own misfortunes: And though
to comfort himself, he compared them with those of others, yet found he that his own were
far the greater. In the mean time Felixana was no sooner come to Axiamira but she told
her so many things to the advantage of our illustrious Bassa, as she was not a little impatient
to see him. But after she had given her an account of their conversation, she caused Ulama's
Slave to be called in, who casting himself at the Princesses feet, delivered her a Letter from
his Master. Ah! Felixana, said Axiamira, wherefore have you surprized me? and wherefore have you any whit deferred the pleasure I should receive in knowing that Ulama thinks
yet of me? Saying so, she opened Ulama's Letter, which she found to be thus.
ULAMA'S Letter to the Princess of PERSIA.IF I did not well know, that to be an enemy to Deliment, were to be the servant to the
Princess Axiamira, I should not be so bold as to write unto her, after I have dared to
bear arms against the Sophi her father. But knowing that I did not take them up, but to
deliver, ar revenge her, methinks I may hope, that she will not take it ill, if I endevor to
serve her, and employ the blood, which I have shed in the service of a forreign Prince, to
procure her liberty. If I obtain this grace, I shall still arrive at the end, which I propound
unto my self; being no other then to hazard my life for a testimony, that I am unto her the
most affectionate of all the Sophi's subjects, and the most obedient of her servants.ULAMA.I make no doubt of it, said the Princess, after she had read this Letter; but, continued
she, speaking to the Slave, who had delivered it unto her, Wilt thou not tell me what Ulama's adventures have been? I have order, Madam, replyed he, to obey you in all things, and
so much the rather in this same, because I have an express command to give an account thereof to Felixana. Halima seeing the Slave preparing himself to content the curiosity of Axiamira, desired her to defer this relation till she had eaten something, which she consented unto at the entreaty of this woman, who redoubled the care she had of this wise Princess after
she knew that the grand Visier was interessed therein. Axiamira's repast was not long, and
Felixana's impatience exciting hers, the Slave began his discourse in this sort, but it was after the Princess had caused Halima and Felixana to sit down on cushions by her beds side.
The History of ULAMA.I will not stand, Madam, to rehearse unto you the transports of joy which I observed in
Ulama, when as by your and Felixana's Letters he understood, that she was not faulty;
since not doubting of his affection, you cannot doubt of his resentment of it. But indeed I will
tell you, how after that first motion of joy was over, it was no little unquietness to him to
abandon you in a time, when he foresaw you would have need of his assistance. Howbeit
he beleeved that it was best in this occasion to obey the Sophi's pleasure, seeing it would have
been utterly to take away the means from him of serving you, if he should have rendered
himself culpable, by not submitting to his commands; resolving howsoever to kill Deliment,
if the matter should grow desperate, rather then suffer any outrage to be done to you. In
this design he went to his Government, where, as you know, you a little while after fully
acquainted him with all the tricks that had been put upon you; and of the resolution you had
taken to go to Mazanderon. This mark of your generofity, and Selixa>iu's consiancy,gJV
him both at once a great deal of grief, and a great deal of satisfaction. He was afflicted to
understand the persecution which you endured, yet he could not chuse but be exceeding glad
to know by this noble example, that the Crown of Persia was not so considerable witn Felixana as his affection. Now he had not had leasure enough to think of what he was to do,
when as he received an express command to repair to the Sophi with all posible speed, upon
pain of being decided guilty of high Treason. This extraordinary proceeding surprized him;
for he knew not then, as afterwads he did by one of Deliment's Confidents, whom he took
prisoner hard by Tauris, that as soon as you were gone to Mazanderon, and that Felixana's Father was come to the Sophi, he would withall not onely secure the person of Ulama,





but utterly ruine him; for fear, lest coming to know that you were at Mazanderon, he should go thither to you, and be carryed to some extream resolution. And for that effect, he had disposed the Sophi's minde to commit Ulama to prison if he came to the Court; and consequently to arraign him, upon pretext of some disorder done by certain Troops (which before times had served under Ulama) at such time as they understood that he was commanded from the Court; represented to the Sophi, that as long as Ulama lived he should never be at quiet. Deliment was not for all that so assured of the Sophi's minde, but that he doubted Ulama's return might change the face of things: For he was not ignorant how the Sophi had
loved him very much, and was obliged to him for more then one victory. He
knew likewise that my Masters party was not so weak at Court, but that it came to extream violence, it might peradventure cause a general revolution of the State, which would
not be advantageous to him: So that to provide for all the misfortunes, which might arrive
unto him, he had recourse to artifice. And to that purpose just at the time when as the
Sophi commanded Ulama to repair unto him, Deliment made him be several ways advertised
of the bad designs, which were upon his life, and carryed the matter so dextrously, as the
faithfullest of my Masters friends served to the wickedness of this man; who in stead of
keeping the design of ruining Ulama very secret, caused it to be bruited with address abroad,
two days before he, who was to carry the commandment to Ulama, set forth towards him:
So that when he came to Ulama, he had already received advice from many not to come to
the Court. Even Mahamed himself had caused him to be written unto about it, but with
so many circumstances, as made him see his undoubted ruine, if he obeyed; in so much as it
was impossible for him to suspect, that there was any artifice in all these things. Some counselled him to seek out a place of retreat amongst strangers; promising to labor the justifying
of his flight whil'st he was absent. Others would have had him fortifie himself in his Government. But none advised him to trust to his innocency. I leave you to think, Madam,
whether Deliment's wickedness could have had a more favorable success? and whether all
these things were not capable of bringing to pass the design which he had, so to order the
matter, that Ulama should not onely not repair to the Sophi, but should also render himself
effectively culpable in the eyes of all the world, who after this would not be so forward in
undertaking his interests.
Ulama in this cross conjuncture knew not what resolution to take: for if, on theone
side, he considered the peril whereunto he should be exposed, by going to put himself into
his enemies hands; if he thought, I say, that you not being at Court, his party would thereby
be the weaker, and Deliment's the stronger; on the other side he saw, that in not obeying
he left his Enemy Master of the Field; that he furnished him with Arms to destroy him; that
he should behave himself as is he were guilty; and to say all, that he should abandon you, and
quit Felixana. This last thought made him resolve to go couragiously to the Court; howbeit he was kept from parting so soon, by a sickness wherewith he was taken: but at length
finding himself betcer, he set forth on his way, with a purpose to oppose Deliment's malice
as much as he could, and to forget nothing that might conduce thereunto. But scarcely had
we made two days journey (for as you know. Madam, I have never abandoned him) when
as we encountred one of his dearest friends, who came in all haste to acquaint him, that all
the Court was filled with the news of your loss, and Felixana's. That in the Royal House
it was said, how going a fishing you were cast away; but that such, as looked farther into
matters, beleeved that your loss was a meer supposition; and that without doubt you were
kept shut up in some part. That it was an effect of the Sophi's passion, and of Deliment's
violence; that in the fashion as the matter was carryed, there was no remedy to be sought for it; that going to the Court, he should sacrifice himself uprofitably for you, and much to the
advantage of Deliment; and that in conclusion, the best he could do was to seek a sanctuary
with some Prince, mighty enough to defend him, and just enough to acknowledg his merit.
Judg, Madam, in what manner my dear Master received this deadly news, and how much he
resented an adventure, whereby he for ever lost the hope of seeing you again; and whereby
he saw Felixana in the possession of another. His grief was so great, that if I could describe
it unto you, I am sure the recital of it would make you shed tears. At first he appeared more
insensible, then afflicted; his silence, his paleness, the little motion that he had, after he had
understood this sad news, and his immovable look, would not permit me to be able to judg,



what new misfortune it was that had arrived unto him, for this man had spoken very softly.
But I no longer doubted of it, when as suddenly breaking his silence, and speaking with much
precipitation; Let Fortune, said he, do with me in she will, I am very certain that she cannot make me more unhappy then I am. Then turning himself to him, who had acquainted
him with your loss, wholly transported with grief, and quite changed in his countenance,
Let us go, said he, dear friend; let us go and dye in some remote place, since I am separated for
ever from Felixana. At this word he fell down dead in my arms, and I beleeved, seeing him in
this pitiful estate, that grief had done that which his despair would have executed. By good
hap we were not very far from a Country house, whither having carryed him with the help of
his friend, we brought him out of his swoon; but it might be said that it was some crutlty in
us to bring him to his senses again, because withall we restored him to his sorrow and despair.
Oh, said he, Felixana is in a condition, that the best she can be for me, is not to be at all!
Oh, Felixana is in the arms of death, or in the power of the Sophi! Ah! no, no, let us not
be so base, as to support this grief. If Felixana be dead, let us follow her generously; and
if she be anothers, let us not survive our ill forcune. Then on a sudden beginning again
after he had held his peace a little; What, shall the Princess Axiamira, the glory of her sex,
and of our age, be the wife of a man, unworthy to be her Slave? and shall we live after
we have so often sworn to her to dye for her service, and to defend her from the insolency of
Deliment! Ah! that may in no sort be; and since I cannot succor her, I know at least-wise
how to testifie to her by my death, that the fear of losing my life hath not kept me from opposing her Enemies. Saying so, he walked up and down a great pace, and seemed to have
some strange design upon himself: But perceiving that his scimitar was gone, which by chance
was fallen from him, we not being aware of it, as we were carrying him in a swoon to that
house; Think ye, said he unto us, to keep me from dying by taking my arms from me?
Ah! no, no, continued he, I shall easily finde wherewithall to end my life and my miseries.
Generous Ulama, answered his friend unto him, we had no intent to take your scimitar from
you; since contrarily, in the estate wherein I see things, it would methinks be fitter to seek
for arms to revenge you, rather then to destroy you: For if Felixana be dead, you cannot
lose your self more nobly, then in revenging her of them, which have been her Enemies during her life: and if she be not, what do you think she will say, when as she shall know,
that the generous Ulama, in stead of stirring up the people, of demanding succor of some
forraign Prince, of marching in the head of an Army to assail her persecutors, weakly abandons her, in abandoning himself to his despair? and entreats her yet more cruelly then Fortune doth, since he will deprive her of the onely man that can deliver her, and the onely person whom she loves. And how will you have me deliver her, if I know not in what place
of the Earth she is? That, my Lord, answered I, must be carefully enquired after: but if
you should not discover any thing, yet must you take up Arms: For if you are ignorant where
Felixana is, you are not ignorant at least-wise who are the Enemies of the Princess Axiamira and Felixana. I should never have done, Madam, if I should rehearse all Ulama's
discourses unto you. Sometimes he would kill Deliment, though we made it apparant to
him, that it would be almost an impossible thing; again he would present himself to the Sophi; then he would go unknown to Mazanderon, to enquire himself of your loss: But for
a conclusion of all, he still returned to the resolution of dying. At length without opposing
our selves directly to his grief, we knew so well how to inspire his minde with choller, as the
sole design of revenging you preserved his life. He resolved then to return to his Government for to think of the means he was to use for the same. As for his friend, he sent him
back again, and pray'd him still to advertise him of whatsoever should pass at the Court,
and to endevor to discover in what place you were retained; for he made no question at all,
but that you were in the Sophi's hands.
When we were returned, he understood that Deliment had bethought him, to say no
longer that you had suffered shipwrack; but contrarily he caused Prince Mahamed, and Felixana's
Father to be arrested, upon suspicion that they were intelligent with your carrying
away; causing it to be bruited withall, that Ulama had some part in their crime; and that
also preparation was a making to go and apprehend him in his Government, as rebellious and
disobedient to the Sophi's commands. My Master acquainted with this news, was yet further confirmed in the opinion, that your loss was an effect of Deliment's artifice. This




thought made him absolutely conclude to think of his safety, to the end he might be revenged. And to that effect, he retired to a good strong place, which appertained to one of his friends, where he lay certain days concealed, to advise of what he was to do; and after he had well considered every thing, he judged it would be best for him, to put himself under the protection of generous Ibrahim, whose reputation filled all the Orient.  For knowing that Soliman had always pretentions enough upon Persia, to have a specious pretext for the recommencing of their ancient Wars, he hoped that by assuring him of his friends and intelligences, he might peradventure carry him thereunto; and the rather for that he knew the Georgiens had for a good while together made many incursions into Comagena and Mesapotamia. This resolution taken, he dispatched me away to Ibrahim at Constantinople, with one of the most
obliging and generous Letters in the world; wherein he signified to him, that for the confirmation of what he had written, and confiding in his generosity, he would put himself into
Bitilisa which is within Soliman's dominion, and not above four days journey from Ulama's Government. As indeed. I was no sooner departed, but my Master, after he had written to the faithfullest of his friends, to entertain some intelligence with them, in case he should
have need of it, set forth towards Bitilisa; and committed himself into the hands of one,
named Serefbeg unto whom this Town appertained, as Vassal of the Othoman Empire. But
though Ulama told him, that he came to seek the protection of Soliman, and that he
had to that effect dispatched one to Ibrahim; yet this man, being of a cruel disposition and provoked by an indiscreet and bruitish zeal, in stead of barely assuring himself of his
person, by putting a guard upon him, until he heard from Soliman, he caused him to be seized upon, to be bound, and in that deplorable estate sent him to Constantinople.
In the mean time I had made my voyage very happily; and having delivered my Letter to
Ibrahim, I well perceived that he was very joyful of it; that the reputation of my Master
was come even unto him; and that he was not ignorant of his high birth; As truly a little
after, he obtained for Ulama all that he had demanded; And as he was preparing to send to
receive him with honor, and was talking with him in the Hipodrome, before his Palace gate,
about my return, I saw my Master arrive bound upon a horse, his hands manacled, and his
face so changed, as I hardly knew him: but being sure it was he, without thinking of the
respect I owed to the grand Visier, I left him, and approaching to Ulama; My Lord, said
I to Ibrahim, suffer not him whom you mean to protect to be so unworthily entreated; nor
let the valiant Ulama be chained like a Slave. Ulama! cryed the grand Visier: Yes, generous Ibrahim, continued I, you behold that Ulama, whose valor is incomparable; whose
birth is as noble as any in all Persia; and who hath demanded protection of none but you.
I had no sooner said thus, but Ibrahim ran himself to unloose my Master; and beholding
them which accompanyed him with fury, he willed me to help him, which I did with a
great deal of joy. As for Ulama, he was in such a confusion to see himself in that estate, as
he could almost have wished that I had not named him: but the thing being done, and having understood that the grand Visier spake the Persian Tongue; These chains, said he unto
him, generous Ibrahim (for he had observed that I had named him so) are glorious unto me,
seeing they are taken from me by so illustrious an hand as yours: And owing my liberty to
you at our very first encounter, judg whether all tbe rest of my life I shall not absolutely depend on you? It is true, replyed Ibrahim embracing him, that these chains are not shameful,
but for those that have made you wear them; and by a sate clean contrary to that of all deliè
verers, I must, after the sreeing you of them; crave pardon of you for the ill usage you have
received; yet so far happy at least-wise herein, as you cannot suspect Soliman for it, who, if
I be not deceived, will make them feel the weight of your chains which have layd them on
you. Ulama answered thereunto with a great deal of civility, and at length the grand
Visier caused him to enter into his Palace, which was hard by, charging some of his servants
to seize upon them that accompanyed Ulama, for fear left any of them should steal away, to
go and advertise Serefbeg how his indiscreet zeal was not well received. When these two
illustrious persons were come in, Ibrahim shewed Ulama the Letter he had written him,
the order he had taken for his reception; and after he had told him, that he might comand in
his house, he went to give an account of his arrival to Soliman, who was so incensed against Serejbeg, that his anger broke out terribly upon him, as you shall understand
hereafter.
In the mean time the Bassa came back to fetch my Master to the Serraglio: and as there is
a sympathy between great men, which makes them from the very first time of their acquaintance to love one another far sooner then others do, so Ulama and that illustrious Bassa grew
suddenly to be such friends, as I was mightily surprized with it. But not to prolong this
discourse, Soliman caressed Ulama extraordinarily; swore he would punish him that had
put him in chains, though my Master employed all his power to obtain his grace; lodged
him magnificently; furnished him with a train answerable to his condition, and gave him
all the occasions that might be to praise him. And, as if Fortune would second Ulama's designs, the very same day that he arrived at Constantinople, the War of Persia was concluded;
whether it were in regard of that which the Georgiens had done; or of the Levies whih
Tachmas had made; or of some reasons which I could not well learn: So that Ibrahim acquainting
Ulama there with, and asking of him, whether he would willingly serve in it, he was
more joyful at it then I am able to express. The Bassa understanding his intentions, advertised Soliman thereof, who thought fit, whil'st the War was a preparing, to have Ulama
return unto the frontier, the more easily to entertain his intelligences. But to make him return
thither with glory, and execute that which had been resolved, Ibrahim caused Serefbeg to be declared guilty of high Treason; and Bitilisa, which the other possessed, together with all the rest of his estate, to be conferred on Ulama; as also a yearly Pension of an
hundred thousand Sultanins, and the Government of Carahemida, the frontire Town of
Diarbech, or Mesapotamia. My Masters generosity carryed him to refuse the spoyls of his
Enemy, as much as possibly he could; but the Sultans pleasure was to be obeyed.
This Declaration being made, Serefbeg was advertised of it by some friends that he had
at Constantinople; so that, provoked with anger, he stole away; and passing into the Sophi's
Territories, he went and offered him his service. In so much as it seemed, that these two
Princes had made an exchange, and given hostages to each other: Though it is true, that the
matter was not equal for the persons, Serefbeg having nothing recommendable in him, but
a brutish valor, which carryed him into perils without knowing them. But at last Ulama
repaired to Bitilisa, where at his first coming he found fit matter to exercise his generosity
upon; for Serefbeg's Wife and Children came and cast themselves at his feet, and wholly dissolved into tears, humbly besought him to grant them the grace of her Husband and their
Father. Ulama answered them, that had he been in an estate to receive it, he would have
used his uttermost endevor to have obtained it of the Sultan: but as things were, it was a
proposition which he durst not make. Then they requested him, at least-wise not to entreat
them ill. Ulama, who had no such intent, assured them, that Bitilisa excepted, which he
was bound to conserve for the grand Signior, he would not keep any part of their estate
from them, though they had very great riches; and told them moreover, that if they would continue in Bitilisa, they should be respected there as himself; or is they would go from thence,
he would obtain permission of Soliman to have them conducted whithersoever they pleased.
This afflicted and generous woman, seeing Ulama's courtesie, besought him so to deal as
she might be suffered to follow the fortune of ber Husband; which Ulama promised her,
and performed a little after. For having obtained of the Sultan that which he had desired of
him for her and her children, he caused all their wealth to be loaden in Waggons; and having
assured them of the restitution of Bitilisa, if peace were concluded, or if Serefbeg re-entred
into favor with the Grand Signior, he sent them with a convoy of four hundred Janizaries
into the Sophi's Territories; for some Troups were already come unto him for his safeguard,
Soliman having given command to all the Sangia's thereabouts to march whithersoever Ulama would lead them.
In the mean time, whereas you and Felixana were the cause of all that he did, his onely
care was to discover is any news could be had of you. He wrote also to Prince Mahamed's
ancient Governor, desiring him to entreat his Master, that he would, for his excuse of what he
was going to do, but remember how it was onely to revenge the Princess Axiamira and Felixana. But hearing nothing of you, it put him into such fury, and into so great a despair, that
his ordinary valor redoubled much more then before, as well appeared in the occasions which
were presented a little after. For Ibrahim leading the vant-guard of the Imperial Army,
where Soliman was in person, met with Ulama at the rendezvouz, and gave him the conduct of thirty thousand men, to march on before for discovcry, as knowing the Country





better than any other. I will not tell you, Madam, the sucess of this War, since it is impossible, that in any part of the world wheresoever you have lived, you should not hear of the conquests which Ibrahim, seconded by the valor of Ulama, made; the taking of the City of Tauris, from whence the Sophi retreated a little before to Sultania, which as you know is but six days journey from it; the crowning of Soliman at Bagdet; and so many other remarkable things, as arrived in this War. But I will onely tell you, that in an occasion, where Ulama went to discover the enemy with two thousand horse, a party of Cavalry almost of the like number advanced form the adverse Army, and charged him so fiercely, as Ulama stood in need of all his address and courage to sustain them. He that commanded the Enemy, having singled himself out from the rest, asked of him in the Persian Tongue, whether he were not Ulama; and my Master having told him how he carryed that name; thou must, continued he, to render the possession of Bitilisa lawfully thine, either take away Serefbeg's life, or to punish thee for thy perfidiousness I must triumph over thine. And then, without attending Ulama's answer, he assailed him with all the fury of a brutish resolution, notwithstanding the generosity which my Master had shewed to his Wife and Children. Indeed the event of the combate justified that which I say, for after they had fought above two hours, without being ever sundered, though they were in the midst of four thousand men, who were fighting as well as they, in the end Serefbeg lost his life by the valor of Ulama. But after this particular victory, he would also have a general one over those who had assailed him; He so animated his Soldiers then by his example, as scarce one of the Enemies rested alive. And to testifie his generosity in all things, he 
caused the body of Serefbeg
to be carryed away, for that he would not suffer, said he, that so valiant a man should be interred in any Country, but his own: and to that effect, though Serefbeg had so highly offended yet he obtained of Soliman that he should be layd in the sepulchre of his fathers at Bitilisa, which was accordingly performed with all the ceremony accustomed in such like occasions. As long as this War lasted, Ulama did what he could to encounter Deliment; but notwithstanding all his endevor for it, fortune would not let him fight with him.
In fine, Madam, Winter approaching, Soliman put part of his Troops into Garrison, and
retired to Constantinople with Ibrahim; leaving Ulama on the frontire, where he desired to
remain, not being able, as he oftentimes told me, to eloign himself from a Land, where he
beleeved you were still abiding. Not long after Ulama being advertised that the Sophi was
gone from Sultania, whither he had retred, and seemed to have some great design in hand,
he drew most of the forces out of the Garisons, and making up a body of an Army, he went
with it to oppose the Enemy. But the Sophi, who did not desire to fight with Ulama, saw
him no sooner in the field, but he began to recoyl, contenting himself onely with seizing on the
passages, and cutting off his victuals, carefully forbearing from descending into the plains, for
fear he she uld be forced to come to a battel. This artifice, which proceeded from Deliment,
would for all that have availed him little, and my Masters valor would have surmounted this
stratagem, if the anger of Heaven had not been joyned to the anger of men, and sought for
the Persians. For it happened that Ulama, having had bad intelligence, went and encamped in that great plain, which is neer to Sultania, and as you know is invironed with four
mountains, whose tops are always covered with snow, chiefly those of Caspia and Niphates. Ulama beleeving then that the Sophi was retired behinde those mountains, at the foot
whereof are the goodliest plains in the world, and the most proper to fight a battel in, was
there encamped, as I have already declared; but the Sophi had taken another way, and
was retired into the Country of the Coraxens. As Ulama then was in this place, there arose on the rop of those mountains so terrible a tempest, as the windc carrying away those
huge heaps of snow, wherewith they were covered, drove them in such abundance, and
with such raging force upon Ulama's Camp, as all the Tents were overthrown by them;
most ofthe Camels stifled; all the sick Soldiers overwhelmed; some of the others buried alive with them; and all the rest in confusion.
And whereas the Snow had extinguished all the fires in the Army, the darkness joyned
to the roaring of the winds, to the noise which the Snow made in overturning the Tents,
to the cries of the Souldiers in answer to the Commands of their Leaders, and to the lamentations of dying men, rendered this night so dreadful, as I do not think one can meet
with an occasion able to give more terror then that did: the constancy of Ulama was not for




all that shaken; and though his Tent was overthrown as well as the rest, yet lost he not his
Judgment: and causing himself from the first beginning of the storm to be heard as well as he
could, he commanded every one to get out of their Tents, and afterwards to keep in their
places, for fear lest thinking to avoyd death, they might the sooner find it in approaching to
the Mountains. But at last upon the return of the day, the tempest ended and the Sun made
us see one of the pitifullest objects that ever was beheld. This deadly sight, able to allay the
courage of any but Ulama, augmented his; and he resolved to be revenged of his Enemies for
the loss he had sustained by the Tempest. Wherefore he made a speedy review of his Army,
and finding that he had lost but two thousand men that night, he concluded to set upon his
Enemies. He sent forth some then to discover, whil'st they were labouring in some sort to
repair the disorder of the Tents; and having gotten an advantageous place, be stay'd ther
till he understood that the Sophi came on furiously towards him; for whereas reports increase
at a distance, he had been told that Ulama had lost above fifteen thousand men. My Master,
glad of this occasion, albeit his Army was overtoyled and weary, couragiously exhorted them
to fight. But, Madam, without particularizing a Battel unto you, whereof the event was not
prosperous to my dear Master, I will only tell you, that after he had almost vanquished his Enemies, suffering himself to be carried away by his extream valor, he was hemmed in by above
an hundred men, who knowing him to be the General of their Enemies Army, assailed him
with such fury, as he was dangerously hurt by them in four several places; so as all that he
could do was to rid himself from his Enemies, still fighting till he got to his own men, where
he was no sooner arrived but he fell down dead amongst them. This accident made the victory change party, and range her self wholly on the Persians side, who remained Masters ofthe
field: In the mean time Ulama's wounds proved great and dangerous; he was carried to the
nearest town, and from thence to Bitilisa, where he hath always continued, whil'st the Sophi
making profit of his misfortune and absence, regained all that Ibrahim and he had conquered.
Howbeit Ulama was a long lime without knowing any of those things: for his wounds reduced him to so bad an estate, as no affair was communicated to him. And whereas I was
always about him, so often as the violence of his sickness would permit him to speak, it was
always of grieving to dye, before he had revenged you; but when an Arabian Physician,
which looked unto him, had assured us that he was out of danger, the first thing he was acquainted with, was the defeat of his Army, the loss of Tauris, your imprisonment, and Felixana's. But he understood this last by such confused reports, as he could not comprehend by
what adventure you were here. His first thought in this occasion leaned to joy, and he was
very glad to hear that you were living, that you were not in the power of the Sophi, and that
at length he might hope to see you again. But this first motion being over, he entered into
another quite contrary. What, said he, do I fight against my lawful Prince,to endeavor the
delivery of the Princess Axiamira and Felixana, or to revenge them? and whil'st I hazard my
life with this intention, it falls out that I shed my blood for the service of a Prince, who keeps
them prisoners; and Fortune, that is become ingenuous to persecute me, makes me fight against
those which oppose him who oppresseth and ill-intreateth them! Pardon me, continued he,
great Princess, the crime which I have done; pardon me,dear Felixana,the error which I have
committed; and know, that though I am covered all over with wounds which I have received
in serving thy Enemy, yet have I heart enough still left me to undertake the deliverance of thee.
I should never have done, Madam, if I would recount unto you all that he said upon this occasion.But at last, after he had used his uttermost endeavor to be carried into a Chariot, against the
advice of his Physician, he was constrained to stay two days journey from Bitilisa; so that
knowing it was impossible for him to proceed further on his way as yet, he sent me to the
grand Visier, with direction, if he were not returned from a secret expedition, upon which
it was said he was gone, to attend for him, and to endeavor by his means to see you, and to
give you the Letter which I have delivered unto you; assuring me, that as soon as he was
able to endure to travel, he would come himself to crave your liberty of the Grand Signior.This Slave, who had no more but the name of it with his Master, having given over speaking, left Axiamira very much contented, and Felixana with a great deal of satisfaction to know that Ulama had still conserved his love to her. And though his wounds were the cause


of some unquietness to her, yet joy was of most power in her heart. But in regard it was indifferent late the Princess dismissed this Slave, and resolved, in what estate soever her health should be the next morning, not to forbear seeing of him who was to be her Deliverer.The Second Book.THe hope of a more quiet life having restored the Princess Axiamira to some strength, it was no sooner day, but having caused her self to be made ready, she sent to desire the grand Visier he would do her the favour that she might see him. Ibrahim having received this Order, went to the Princesses lodging; but when first he saw her, he remained as much surprized, as he had been at such time as he beheld her picture; for certainly she very much resembled Isabella. Howbeit, respect drawing the Illustrious Bassa out of this pleasing surprise, he saluted the princess wiht a great deal of submission, and assured her that she might absolutely dispose of him; that he came not but to offer her all that lay in his power, and to testifie unto her the grief he had to visit her in a plaace unworthy of her, and from whence he would labour to free her in a short time. The Princess answered to all these things both with very much spirit, civility, and greatness of courage. But when as Ibrahim would dextrously have engaged her to the recital of her adventures, she desired him he would be pleased, that
Felixana, who had aheady acquainted him with part thereof, might continue the relating of
the rest unto him. The grand Visier turning him then to Felixana, requested her, punctually
to recount unto him all that had arrived to the Princess Axiamira and her after their Shipwrack because it was important for their interest that he should not be ignorant of it. Felixana, who ever since the Discourse which Ulama's Slave had made unto her, was more affeced to our Illustrious Bassa then before, would by no means refuse him that he desired of
her, although she certainly knew that this relation would renew all her sorrows. Wherefore,
after she had received the Princesses Command for it, and that Ibrahim was set down by Axiamira at her intreaty, she began to speak in this sort.
The Hisiory of GIANGER and MUSTAPHA.My imagination, representing to me all at once whatsoever I am to recount unto you, filleth
my mind with so much confusion and grief, as I doubt whether I shall be able to deliver things
precisely unto you, as they arrived unto us, and whether I shall not stand in need ofthe Princesses goodness, to put me in mind thereof, if I should fail in acquainting you with some circumstance of that which you desire to know. But to come to my discourse, I will not stand
then to tell you in what manner we suffered Shipwrack; only I will say to you, that when
we judged by the cries of the Mariners we were in danger of perishing, I approached to the
Princess, whose great heart was not shaken in this occasion, but contrarily feared the Port
more then Shipwrack, and casting my self at her feet, I demanded of her with tears the
grace that I might dye by her. This generous Princess imbraced me, and taking me by the hand
she never quitted it, till the Vessel, driven by the wind and the waves with an incredible impetuosity against the point of a Rock, broke all to pieces, and separated us, but in what manner
it was done I am not able to tell you; for I was so troubled, and the horrors of death seized
on me in such sort at that dreadful instant, as I knew not what became of me. Yet was not
the Sea altogether unpitiful unto us, for by an extream good fortune in the midst of our ill fortune, it carried us to the shoar, which was not far off; and not only preserved our lives, but
made me be found within thirty paces of the place, where the waves had cast up the divine
Axiamira in a swoon as well as I.
But admire, my Lord, that which I am going to tell you! and how weak beginnings have
sometimes long and dangerous consequences! You may well remember how I told you yesterday, that the Sophi gave the Princess Axiamira's and my picture to a forreign Merchant,
with order never to sell them to any but Princes: And you have told me, if I be not deceived,
that you knew how that Merchant, being mistaken in selling one of those pictures to Soliman,



gave him that of the Princess Axiamira for mine. Now, my lord, the same error produced
another; for that Merchant, passing afterwards to the place where Prince Gianger lived, sold him my picture for that of Axiamira; But if the first fault had been the cause of carrying
away the Princess by force, the second accasioned that which you are going to hear.
The same day wherein we suffered Shipwrack, Prince Gianger (who as you know remained
by Solimans Order very near to the place where we were cast on shoar) walking that way
came by chance where I lay extended on the sands as a dead person. This accident surprized
him; my sex, my age, my habit, which was rich and extraordinary; and more then all that
the pity whereof this vertuous Prince was capable, caused him to approach unto me, and not
judg me unworthy of his assistance. And then again, though the estate wherein I was had
infinitely changed me, he conceived that I was not altogether unknown to him, and that he
had seen something that resembled me. But he had no sooner made the sand, which cleaved
to my face, to be taken away, but his memory brought back into his imagination my picture
which he had bought of that Merchant, and which he believed to be Axiamira's. And
whereas by chance he had it about him that same day, he opened the case wherein it was, and
observing there all the features of my face, though the ayr of it was somewhat charged, he no
longer doubted but that I was the Princess of Persia, confirming himself further in this opinion by my apparel, which he saw to be altogether like to that which I wore in my picture.
For the Sophi having found, that the habit of an Amazon, which the Painter had given us,
was more advantageous then ours, would needs have the Princess and I wear it ever after. In
this belief, Prince Gianger redoubled his care; and seeing me fetch a sigh, which made him
know that I was still alive, he caused me to be carried to the next house to the place where I
was; and commanded some of his people to go along by the Sea shoar, to see if they could
find any other person that had need of succour, imagining rightly, that I had not suffered Shipwrack alone. But scarcely had he given this Order, when one of his servants came and told
him, that some thirty paces from thence there lay a woman attired in the same manner, and
in the same estate that I was, who without doubt was not dead, because he had discerned some
motion of breathing in her.
The Prince, having left me to the care of his people, went to see that which this man told
him of; but he did no sooner cast his eyes on the Princess Axiamira (for it was she whom
this man had found) but he felt himself prest with an extraordinary desire to be able to save
her; and the compassion which he had on her added so many charms to ber beauty, as he
swore unto me afterwards he had never seen her more beautiful then she was in that deplorable
estate. He himself helped to carry her to the place where they had already layd me; and
though he was perswaded that I was the Princess of Persia, and that Axiamira was one of
my maids of honor, he took at the least as much care of her as of me, and it might be said that
he did not serve me but out of respect and interest, and that he assisted her already out of inclination. At length, my Lord, meeting with some women in the house whither we had been
carried, they took such a course with us, as they brought us out ofour swoon. I was the first
that opened my eyes, and to whom reason began to give a sense of our mis-fortunes, by the
astonishment wherewith I was seized, in seeing my self in the bands of so many unknown persons. But if their faces, their habits, and their language surprized me, their officious endeavors
gave me some hope. This astonishment being over, my first thought was for Axiamira. Alas!
poor Princess, said I aloud, what is thy destiny! Prince Gianger hearing me speak thus (for
he alone understood the Persian tongue) believed that by those few words I deplored my
own mis-fortune; so that quitting Axiamira, to render me that which he thought he owed
to my condition, he came to comfort me, and assured me that I was in a place where the same
services and honors should be done me, as if I were in the Court of the Sophi my father.
I was equally surprized, both with hearing Gianger speak to me in the Persian tongue, and
with his taking me for Axiamira. Howbeit finding my self in the hands of people that were
unknown to me, I resolved not to disabuse them; hoping that this opinion would make me
be with the more safety amongst them, and would possess them with the more respect: But
I would not avouch so much precisely, so that I contented my self with telling him, that in the estate wherein I was, the best that could arrive unto me was to dye; nevertheless that I
would not refuse his assistance and protection, seeing he had the generosity to offer it me.
These few words had like to have made me fall again into a swoon, just as the Princess began




to come out of hers, and that opening her eyes, as I understood afterwards, she left them no longer in doubt but that she also might be succoured. But whether it were that she was of a
weaker temper then I, or whether the Sea had tossed her more, she was above four hours before she could speak; and that was it which kept me from perceiving that we were both in one chamber, though a Cotten cloth, which made a division in the room, was the only thing that separated us.In the mean time the Prince sent for a Charet to carry us to the place of his ordinary residence, to the end we might be the better assisted there by a Jewish Physician, who by reason of his age could not come where we were, and whom we tryed afterwards to be one of the knowingst men of the world in that profession. It was then, my Lord, that I was greatly amazed; for these people having set me in the Charet, the Prince came and asked of me, whether I would be pleased, that a maid, whom he believed did belong to me, because she had been found on the Sea shoar in the same case he had taken me up, should come into the Charet to me? I desired him with much impatience to let her be brought, imagining that it might be Axiamira. As indeed, he had no 
sooner commanded it, but I saw two men bring
her to me in a Chair. And truly in this encounter it fell out well for the design we had afterwards, that Gianger was a pretty way from us, and that there was no body near us which understood my language; for as soon as I saw her, I could not forbear crying out; Ah! excellent Princess, live you still? and hath fortune been so pitiful, as not 
to separate your destiny from mine?
My voyce revived Axiamira more then all the remedies they had used to her
till then; and as soon as she was in the Charet where I was, she embraced me with so much joy, as she thereby recovered the use of her speech, to testifie unto me the comfort she received
in seeing her self with me. But, continued she, my dear Felixana, in what Country are we?
who are these that assist us? and what interest have they in our conservation? do they not
pretend to force us to live, to constrain us afterwards to have recourse unto death, by returning
us into the hands of Rustan? For, said she, I see them have Turbants, whose colour makes me
know them to be Solimans Subjeds. Madam, said I, I cannot answer to so many things,
though I have for above two hours observed with a judgment sound enough all that hath been
done here. But this I can tell you, that he, who seems to be the Master of all them I have seen,
is exceeding civil, and should be a man of great quality, so far as I an guess by the high respect
which the rest do give him. But that which troubles me is, his taking me for you, and his
assuring me in our language, that I shall have the same honor done me here, as in the Court of
the Sophi my father. It may be, said the Princess, I can remember some words of the Turkish
tongue, which I learned of an old Slave when I was a child; and then making a sign to one
of those which accompanied us, that she would say something to him, when as he came near
her, and that she had studied a while, she demanded of him with much ado, and in a language
that was not very intelligible, the name of him that commanded them. This man apprehended
not at first what she would say to him, but at length joyning signs to her speech, she made her
self be understood. He answered her then in his language, that it was the Prince Gianger.
This name of Gianger touched the Princess sensibly, and making a sign to this man, that she
had no more to say to him; I knew full well, said she to me, that Fortune did not save me,
but to undo me; and that she kept me not from perishing, but to expose me to new miseries;
for, said she, he in whose power we are is the son of Soliman. It is not because Fame doth
not speak advantageously of him; but still, he is the son of a man, which hath caused me to
be forcibly carried away.
Axiamira's discourse seemed so full of reason to me, as I could not make any Reply to it;
but in the end carried by the passion which I had to serve her, I told her, that to avoyd the
mischief she feared, Prince Gianger was not to be disabused of the opinion he was in, that I
was the Princess of Persia; that in the mean time we should labour to know, wherefore he
took me for that which I was not; and that in trying to discover his designs, we should frame
ours according to that we should learn of him. The Princess was so afflicted, as without examining whether that which I told her was reasonable or no, she consented unto it at the same
instant, when as the Prince, who out of respect had always marched before, came close to the
Charet. This while we arrived at Giangers Palace, who led me to a stately lodging, and
who would also have given another to Axiamira; because, said he, she was not in case to
serve me: But having requested him to leave her with me, he quitted us, and went out of the



chamber, as soon as that old Jewish Physician came in; who, after he had ministred unto us
that which he thought was necessary for our recovery, left us at liberty to talk of the estate
of our fortune.
I will not declare unto you, my Lord, the cares, the civilities, and the duties, which Gianger rendred me from that very first evening in the quality of Axiamira, since it would be
to spend time unprofitably. But you shall understand, that coming to see me the next day, I
demanded two things of him; the one was, to tell me how he knew that I was the Princess
of Persia? and the other, not to publish that I was in his hands, till I had time and strength
to entertain him with my misfortunes. To the first he answered me, in letting me see the
Case wherein my picture was, which as soon as I had beheld I knew it straight. But, my
Lord, said I unto him, who told you that this was Axiamira's picture? The Merchant
said he, that sold it to me; and who long before had also sold another to the Emperor my father, which he said was a maids, named Felixana, whom the Sophi very much esteemed;
whom you exceedingly loved; and who without doubt ought to have very much merit and
beauty, since, as this Merchant told me, she was crowned as well as you, as the fairest of all
Persia. This Felixana, answered I coldly, had questionless a beauty extraordinary enough
to oblige Soliman to buy her picture. Now, my Lord, it is certain that this discourse surprized me; for then I knew, that the Merchant, to whom our pictures had been given, was
deceived, and had not understood the Sophi well; the likeness of clothes having no doubt
contributed much to the making of this error. So it was, that I plainly perceived how Soliman had effectively loved Axiamira by means of her picture, but under the name of Felixana, which had occasioned her forcible carrying away; and how the saw error, and the same
change of pictures, was the cause that Prince Gianger took me for her, as the Emperor had
before taken her for me.
Touching the second thing, which I had demanded of the Prince, he easily granted it me;
for whereas he was become desperately in love with the Princess Axiamira, his desire was
not to be obliged to carry us so soon to Soliman, as maxims of State required: It being unlikely, that the daughter of a great King should be in his hands, and he not remit her into
the Emperor his fathers, as soon as it was known. So to content me, and to satisfie himself,
he forbid those, which had had any notice of the quality he gave me, to be known of it: And
still, to gain time, I made my indisposition last as long as possibly I could. In the mean space
the Prince, who at first fight had been mightily taken with the beauty of Axiamira, could
not forbear giving her some marks of it, but with so much respect, as is she had appeared
to be that which truly she was, she could not have been offended at it. This generous Prince
told us since, that he tryed to withstand this springing passion as much as he was able; and
that against the custom of his Nation, which considers not the nobility of blood, he was so
troubled to think that she whom he loved was not of Royal birth, as he could not be quiet
in his minde. He had yet some intervals, wherein his imagination shewed him the truth,
and wherein it perswaded him that Axiamira, whom I called Ismaida as long as our plot
lasted, was something more then she seemed to be; and in this thought he engaged himself so deeply in loving her, as he could not forbear giving her testimonies thereof in my presence, though he rendred me nevertheless all the respect, which was due to a Princess, of
whom I borrowed the name.
We lived some time in this sort, with content enough, that is to say, as long as the Princes
visits kept us from thinking seriously of our misfortunes. For when we were alone, the remembrance of what was past, and the fear of that which was to come, gave us but little
rest. The presence of the Prince was oftentimes also somewhat grievous to me, especially at
such time as he pressed me by his entreaties to tell him by what adventure I had suffered shipwrack upon that Coast; having much ado to finde excuses to dispense me from it, being not
yet well resolved on that which we were to tell him. This Princes love likewise began to
possess Axiamira with unquietness, out of the fear she had, left the ignorance of her condition should carry him to some design, which might be disadvantageous to her. But for
me, who saw so much vertue and wisdom in this Prince, I feared nothing from him; and
I made it appear to my Lady, that this love, which gave her so much apprehension, should rather give her some assurance; since being retained by the respect, which he thought he owed
to me, and by the love which he bare her, he would never enterprize any thing, which might




anger her, or displease me. In the mean time, my health being recovered, sooner than I would have it, and Axiamira's in too good an estate to be dispensed withall from travelling, Prince Gianger fearing lest notwithstanding his providence the Emperor should come to know hat the Princess of Persia was in his hands, propounded unto me, with the
most address and civility that possibly he could, the conducting me to Constantinople; to
the end, said he unto me, that the Emperor rendering unto you the honors, which are due
to a person of your birth, may send you back to the Sophi with an equipage proportionable
to his greatness, and your condition. My Lord, said I unto him exceedingly surprized and
without consulting Axiamira, so do, as owing you our lives, we may also owe our liberty
to you; and without conducting us to Constantinople, permit us to return unknown into Persia.
Gianger had no minde to grant me this request; for besides that reason of State, and his
own conservation, would not suffer him to do so; his love would not consent that he should
for ever lose the presence of one, who was so dear to him as Axiamira was. And the
thought which he had had, to conduct me to Constantinople, seemed so much the juster unto him, because he should thereby retain in his Country the person whom he loved. I observed how he looked upon the Princess Axiamira when I made this motion unto him, and
that changing colour he sighed twice or thrice. But at length after he had endevored to answer me, he gave me such pressing reasons to let me know the injustice of my request, as not
able to destroy them, I at least-wise desired some time of him to resolve my self for it, which
he granted me very kindly. We were no sooner at liberty, but the Princess beholding me
with tears in her eyes, What say you now, Felixana, said she unto me, do you know any
other way but death to avoyd the miseries that are prepared for us? and whose rigor is so
great, that I have not so much as the satisfaction to finde any whom I can accuse for it, seeing
Gianger doth nothing but what he ought to do. Madam, said I unto her, we must make
use in this ocasion of the Princes error; and with the precious stones that are on your
clothes suborn some one of the Guards that are about us, to let you escape and conduct you away, either here, or during the voyage we are going to make, where you will
not be so observed as I shall be. Ah, my dear Girl, said she unto me! in what place of the
Earth shall I finde a refuge? If I go into Persia, I shall meet with a cruel and incensed father; an infamous fellow for an husband; and shall see my self there without any other protection, then that of a blinde brother, since Ulama is no longer at Court: If I go to Constantinople, I shall there finde a Prince, who caused me to be forcibly carryed away, that I might be
shut up in a Serraglio like a slave: And if I escape out of the hands of Gianger (which I do not
think is very easie) to wander like a vagabond, without knowing where to seek out a retreat,
unto what strange adventures do I expose my self? And then, do you beleeve that Axiamira,
could she finde safety by her flight, would abandon you, and leave you in the power of a
Prince, who, transported by the affection that he bears me, would ill entreat you afterwards.
Ah, no, Felixana! death hath something sweeter, then all the remedies you present unto
me; as also it is that alone whereunto I will have recourse.  Madam, said I unto her, for
so much as regards me, it would be too much glory for me to dye for your service: And if I
saw that flying might be advantageous to yon, I would press you further unto it; but since
by your reasons I come to know the greatness of your misfortune, were it not better for us
to confide absolutely in Prince Gianger? and to tell him not only that it is you who are indeed
the Princess of Persia, but also that Soliman his father is in love with you under my name;
that Rustan carryed you forcibly away for him; and that in the end you suffered shipwrack
as they were transporting you to Constantinople. This Prince loves you passionately, and is
I be not deceived reason of State will give place to his love, which doubtless will be yet
more augmented by the knowledg he will have of your condition, by the confidence you
will put in him; and by the jealousie he will have of his father. In conclusion, Madam, I
can never beleeve, that Gianger will conduct you to Soliman, when he shall know the truth
of things; and I hope that regarding him as his Rival, and not as his King, and as his Father, he will suffer himself to be moved with your tears, and his own interest. And then,
Madam, if the vertue of this Prince, and his love, shall refuse us our liberty, I will be the
first to shew you the way to death by my example, finding as well as you, that it is sweeter then a life thwarted with so many miseries.But how do you think, said the Princess unto me, to perswade Gianger that you are not
Axiamira; that I am verily the daughter of the Sophi; and that it was Soliman's design
have me forcibly carryed away? Truth, answered I, hath lights which makes her to be easily
known; and the freeness and ingenuity, wherewith I mean to speak to Gianger, will perswade him, if I deceive not my self, that I am no other then Felixana, and that you are
Axiamira. For the next, it is not possible but that this Prince should know Rustan; and
when we shal mark him out the time that he came to Mazanderon, he wil remember whether
he were at the Port then or no; or if he be ignorant thereof, he may dextrously enquire in
what place he was at that same time: Moreover, if he perished when we suffered shipwrack,
his death will justifie my discourse; and if he escaped, it is impossible but that the bruit of
this accident should be spread abroad amongst some; and that at least it should be heard
spoken, how he thought he should have been drowned, though it be not known upon what
occasion, or in what voyage. But, Madam, without searching for so many proofs, to confirm that which I purpose to say, I am confident, how I shall no sooner tell Gianger that
you are the Princess of Persia, but he will finde in your eyes the justification of my discourse; he will wonder that he did not know you; and repenting him of his error, he will crave
pardon of you for it. For, Madam, there is something so majestical in your face, as I doubt
not but you have had more ado to conceal your self, then you will have to make your self be
known. And then again, the greatest misfortune that can arrive to us by it, is not to be beleeved, and that being so, we are in the same estate, as now we are: and in the same liberty
to have recourse unto death.
The Princess, perceiving some reason in that which I said, permitted me to speak to Gianger, provided that she might be in her Cabinet during our conversation. I sent then presently to desire the Prince that I might speak with him, whereupon he came forthwith to my
chamber; and when as he would have used the same respects to me, as he had accustomed;
It is no longer time, said I unto him, my Lord, to abuse your goodness; It was requisite at
first, when as yet we knew you not, that we should be unknown to you, for reasons that
you shall hear; but now that we know your wisdom, your vertue, and your generosity, it
is just that you also should know us; and that the freedom which we use in acquainting you
with our misfortunes, and in confiding absolutely in you, should obtain us that pardon
which we crave for having deceived you. The Prince remained very much surprized with
my discourse, and whereas I perceived it; I see, my Lord, said I unto him, the impatience
you are in, to understand that which I am to say to you, doth disquiet you; and therefore,
to satisfie you in few words,know, that I am not Axiamira. You are not Axiamira, said the
Prince unto me exceedingly amazed! O, Madam, labor not to perswade me the contrary, since
it would be in vain. No, my Lord, continued I, I am not the Princess of Persia, and you see
before your eyes onely that Felixana,of whom you have heard speak too advantageously: yet
think not that I will take the Princess Axiamira out of your power; she is in it, my Lord, and
she is in it in an estate, that hath need of your protection: It is you alone on whom her good or
had fortune doth depend; or to say better, it is you on whom her life or death doth depend.
And to draw you quite out of the pain wherein I see you, know, my Lord, that the same incomparable person, whom you have so esteemed of under the name of Ismaida, is truly
Axiamira, and the most excellent Princess that is in the world. This last amazement of the
Prince was as great as the other; but with this difference, that amidst the trouble of his soul
I saw some joy in his look. He beleeved me not for all that at first, but I perceived that it
was a matter, whereof he would have gladly been perswaded. Is it possible, said he unto me, that you should speak the truth? and will you not take it ill if I should not beleeve you? or if not being able to rely on your words, I request you to tell me some circumstances, that may clear me in a thing that is so doubtful.
It is just, said I unto him, that you should not beleeve me upon the bare report of my
words, but that your reason should perswade you. And then I recounted unto him, not onely Rustans arrival at Mazanderon; the sleights which he had used to get a sight of me; the
forcible carrying of us away; the discourse that he had made to Axiamira; how he had
given her to understand that Soliman was fallen in love with her picture, which he had in
his keeping; and how for that cause hehad brought her a way by force; but also to testifie
the more considence unto him, I told him in part, upon what occasion we were at Mazan-deron, the Sophi's rigor, and the Princesses avertion to Deliment. I made this relation with
so much sincerity, as Gianger found himself capable of discerning it; and that which yet
helped me to perswade him that I did not lye, was that he remembred, how he had heard
that Rustan, who was his enemy, as well as his brother Mustapha's, was gone from the
Port upon a secret expedition; and had embarqued himself at Pera in a vessel laden with
merchandize. This consideration having removed all scruples from his minde, I saw a great
deal of joy in his countenance, and the questions which he asked of me afterwards were no
more then testimonies that he was perswaded.
But why (said he unto me after some silence) do not I see this Princess, of whom I am
to crave pardon for my error? Is it to punish me for the fault, which I have ignorantly committed, that she will deprive me of her sight? My Lord, said I unto him, this great Princess,
to leave you the liberty to doubt of my words, is retired into her Cabinet, whither is you
please we will go unto her. Saying so, she opened the Cabinet door, and Axiamira advancing towards them in some confusion, the Prince went and cast himself at her feet. Ah!
Madam, said he unto her, how faulty soever I appear in your eyes, my heart is innocent;
it being most certain, that it hath advertised me more then once what you were: I have had
respects and thoughts of veneration for you, which I durst not make shew of, in the error
wherein I was, both by that of the Merchant, and your discourse. My Lord, said the Princess lifting him up, your error is so much the more pardonable, because in taking Felixana
for me, you were not much deceived, seeing it is certain, that she is another my self. But,
my Lord, continued she, let not the confidence which we have in your vertue be in vain.
Nor let not, Madam, replyed he, the remembrance of that which is past be disadvantageous
to me; and for my part, beleeve absolutely, that there is nothing which I will not perform
to do you service. For, Madam, since my good fortune would have you unknown to me,
that I might take upon me the boldness to testifie some part of the passion I am in for you,
which peradventure I durst not have done otherwise, although it be most pure, and most innocent; be assured, that now, when as I know how this passion is worthy of the son of Soliman, nothing can separate me from your interests. Command then absolutely, and be
most confident that you shall be obeyed. I had not much ado to be perswaded, continued
he, that a person, whom I judged worthy to be Queen of all the world, should be the daughter of the Sophi of Persia; but I marvel much at my blindness, that I could not discern you
were that indeed, which I have so often wished you were.
Since your generosity permits me to speak, said the Princess interrupting him, Let not the
wicked designs of Rustan, my Lord, be executed by Prince Gianger; let me not be conducted by your hand to the Serraglio; nor let the Princess of Persia have the destiny of
Slaves. For, my Lord, not to conceal my thoughts from you, I will dye a thousand times
over, rather then doany thing unworthy of that which I am. You know my Lord that
Soliman having marryed Roxelana, cannot according to his Law have any other lawful wife;
so that if you put me into his hands, and that I am not generous enough to have recourse unto death, this Princess, who all her life-time hath had no other passion but that of glory and
honor, would be the most infamous of her condition. Judg now, my Lord, whether my
prayers be not just, and if I have not reason to employ me tears, to obtain that which I desire of you?The Prince heard Axiamira with great agitations of spirit: He was ravished to see that
his passion had so noble and so great an object; but the Sultan's love gave him no little unquietness; and not knowing what to do, he continued a while without speaking; but at length he said thus; Do not think, Madam, that my silence is an effect of my irresolution, I have not been considering whether I ought to serve you, but of the means I am to use for it. Fear not then that I will carry you to Constantinople, and beleeve that therein I shall serve my self no less then I shall serve you. But, Madam, when I shall be resolved exactly to follow you pleasure, will it be just, that for saving you from peril, I should remain the most unhappy of men? that for delivering you from the violence of Soliman, you should adandon me to the violence of my despair, by ordaining me to let you return into Persia? For, Madam, henceforward my destiny is inseparable from yours; and I see no mean betwixt dying and abandoning you.The Prince made this discourse with so many testimonies of affection, as the Princess was





in some sort moved therewith. My Lord, said she unto him, I should esteem my self very infortunate, if my encounter should prove fatal to you, and that by a destiny wholly particular
to me, my misfortune should be so great, as to be communiated to the persons that assist
me. But I will beleeve, that the matter shall not go in that manner, and I wish with all my
heart, that you may have as much prosperity, as I have misery. And that you may
know I desire your felicity, consider to what rigors of Fortune I am exposed. I request
you that you will not conduct me to Constantinople, to avoyd the violence of Soliman; and
I request you also that you will not conduct me into Persia, to avoyd the violence of father,
and the insolence of a brutish man, who will both usurp the Empire, and force me to be his
wife. But, my Lord, as I request these two things of you, so I request yet one more, and that out
of a sence of glory and honor, which are the two most powerful inclinations of my Soul; and
it is, my Lord, that I may remain no longer in your hands: For albeit I fear nothing from so
vertuous a Prince, yet shall I be very glad, that Envy may not find any thing to charge my reputation with. So do then, my Lord, that I may not go to Constantinople; that I may not
return into Persia; that I may not continue in your hands; that I may find a sanctuary where
Civility permits me to abide; or that I may dye at your feet. Gianger was so ravished with
the vertue and wisdom of Axiamira, as turning himself to me, it must be acknowledged,
said he to me, that the Princess is incomparable; that I have been blind indeed not to know
her, and to resist the secret motions which advertised me of my duty. After this he stood a
pretty while without speaking, then suddenly beginning again. If I had not, Madam, said he
unto her, found out the means to place you in safety, and to content my self also, I should dye
with grief; but if I be able to offer you the company of a Princess, whose vertue is without
stain, whom you may absolutely command, and who is wife to Prince Mustapha my Brother
I think you will have cause to be satisfied. Axiamira was exceeding glad of this proposition,
having oftentimes before heard speak of the vertue of Mustapha's wise, who she had been
told was descended of the ancient Kings of Cappadocia. So that addressing her self to the
Prince with a great deal of satisfaction, may I hope, my Lord, said she unto him, that Prince
Mustapha, and his excellent wife, will permit me to live unknown in their Palace, until that
Fortune, weary of persecuting me, shall no longer keep me from returning into my Country?
Your vertue alone will oblige theirs to succor you, but if that were not, the strict friendship
which is betwixt us will oblige them sufficiently unto it. All Mustapha's interests are mine,
even as my Fortune is his. And truly we are far from those apprehensions of State, which for
so long a time have made the children of the Othoman family to tear one another in pieces like
enraged Tygers; and I am well assured that if Mustapha, my eldest Brother, comes once to
the Empire, he will let me enjoy the felicity of his Raign, and will not send me either mutes or
slaves to strangle me. I tell you all these things, Madam, to the end you may not doubt but
that the sanctuary which I have propounded unto you, will be inviolable. Moreover, whereas Mustapha is Governor of Amasia, and that City is the Capital of Cappadocia, which we
call Amasia, you may well conceive that you will be far enough from Constantinople, and not
so far from Persia, but that you may easily hear from those which are affected to you
there.
All these particulars having seemed very reasonable unto me, I the more confirmed the Princess in the design she had to accept of them, both for her interest and mine own; it being most
certain, that I no less feared the Sophi's love, then she did Deliments. This resolution taken,
nothing was thought on but executing it: Gianger dispatched a man, who was faithful to
him, to let Mustapha understand that which he desired of him; but with such pressing terms,
as it had been impossible for his brother to have refused him. And giving order for the departure of the Princess, whom before folks he intreated as he was wont to do, we set forth
two days after for Amasia, with as little company as might be, and in Turkish habits, to be the
less noted. I will not tell you, my Lord, with what generosity Prince Mustapha, and Saraida his wife, received Axiamira; let it suffice me to say, that Gianger, having left us some two miles short of Amasia, under the charge of an old Governor of his, in whom he very much
confided, and having acquainted his brother and sister in law with our Fortunes, they rendred in
particular to Axiamira all the honors which she could have received in her own Country. A little while after all that we had delivered was plainly justified. For Mustapha understood the
return of Rustan, and his disgrace; and presently thereupon he was told, that the Princess and




I were not at the Sophi's Court; that the report went we were drowned; and that others believed how Tachmas and Deliment had caused us to be forcibly carried away. After
this we lived happily enough; Mustapha's care, Saraides compliance, and Gianger's respectful affection, rendred our Exile supportable enough.
Axiamira could not for all that be at rest; she wrote many times to divers persons which
were affeced to her in Persia, without ever receiving any answer. And whereas she saw no
end of her miseries, she could not be without unquietness; which at length brought her to a
sickness, which it was thought would prove mortal to her. Her Fever was not very violent,
but it was without intermission; and though she felt no great pain, yet was she so weak, and
so low brought, as we durst not hope she could surmount the disease wherewith she was
taken: during the which Saraida and I never abandoned her; and the two Princes saw her
as often, as the necessity of their affairs, and civilicy would permit them. Now though Mustapha had nothing but friendship for Axiamira, yet seemed he to be as much much afflicted as Gianger; such a sympathy was there in all things between these two excellent Princes. We
continued three Months in this sort, without knowing what we were to expect concerning
the Princesses life: for albeit at length the Fever left her sometimes, yet was it for so little
while, as it did not permit us to hope the recovery of her health. But whil'st I was shedding
tears for her, the Princes and Saraida took great care to conceal from the Princess, and me too,
that Soliman had made War in Persia; which was the cause I knew not that Ulama had
betaken himself to his party. And that which kept Mustapha from saying any thing to us of
it, was not only the fear of afflicting Axiamira, but the doubt Gianger was in, that if she
came once to know it, she would be averted from a Prince, whose father went about to desolate her Country. We lived then above two Months in this ignorance after the Princess was
out of danger: for whereas we saw no body but Mustapha, saraida, and Gianger that understood our language, it was easie for them to keep us from knowing any thing but what they
pleased. But one day as the Princess and I were alone, speaking of the affection that Gianger
bore her, and amplifying his vertues, which I opposed to the vices of Deliment, I in some
sort pressed her to acquaint me with the thoughts which she had for him. Why I will tell
you now, Felixana, said she unto me, I esteem of Gianger as much as his vertue doth merit;
I do acknowledg his good Offices as much as one can; and I bear as much good-will to him
in my heart, as I do to Prince Mahamed my brother: but for that passion, which disorders
the mind, which destroys Reason, and which troubles the rest of them whom it possesseth, I
am not capable of it; and I could wish that Gianger carried a more quiet affection to me.
That weakness is a blemish, which I do not desire should be in great Souls: nor is it any thing
but the subtilty of men which hath perswaded us, that his passion is not vicious, since all others are, and that every one believes them to be so, though they do not produce such deadly
effects. And to know how much more dangerous it is then the rest, we are but to consider
how it commonly stirs up all of them; Hatred, Anger, Envy, and Ambition it self, are many
times the followers of it; yet do not think, that I will be ingrateful to Prince Gianger; for
know, how averse soever I am from marriage, I would notwithstanding resolve to be his
wife, rather then render him unhappy, if the Sophi and Soliman could consent thereunto.
For, continued she, I may indeed oppose the Sophi's pleasure, but I can never be drawn to dispose of my self without his order. As I was going to take Gianger's part, he entered into
the Princesses chamber, and approaching to her with all the observance which he was accustomed to yield her, he began to talk to her of his affection; and he represented unto her the
respect wherewith he had served her, the greatness of his love, the little testimony she had
given him of accepting it, the deplorable estate of his Fortune, the small likelihood there was,
that after so many Letters vainly written into Persia, that the friends which she had left
were still generous enough to serve her. That he knew how the Sophi was more affected to
Deliment then ever, and that he alone governed the Empire: So that she could never hope
either to alter Deliment, or to make the Sophi change his resolution, but by the necessity of
resolving on that which they could no longer avoyd.
I perceive well, my Lord, answered she sighing, that my misfortune is so strange, as the most
ingenuous spirit could not foresee any other end of it, then such as must be fatal to me; for if
I have Enemies in Persia, I have others also at Constantinople. But to answer the complaints
which you make against me, I will open my heart unto you, and if after that you be not sa-




tished, I profess that Fortune hath not yet made me feel her cruelleft rigors. Ah, Madam,
said the Prince interrupting her, suffer me first to tell you, that if you deprive me of the hope
which my extream love hath made me conceive, nothing will be able to preserve my life. My
Lord, replyed Axiamira, have patience, and do not condemn me without hearing me. And
to begin with the Obligations wherein I am engaged to you; I know that I owe you my life;
that the respect which you have shewed to me, in a time when you knew me not for that
which I was, hath sensibly obliged me; and that the generosity which you have demonstrated in providing me a sanctuary, and preferring my interests before Solimans and the Empires, merits an eternal acknowledgment. I have also observed against my custom, that you
bear an affection to me, and I am so powerfully perswaded of it, as you cannot desire I
should be more: but, my Lord, if I may be permitted to speak freely, I must tell you, that
the esteem I make of so many rare qualities, as are in you, joyned to the obligations wherein
I am engaged to you, could never for all that beget an affection in my heart like unto yours.
Yet do not think I am ingrateful, or insensible; but contrarily, I love you so much the more
perfectly, as I can speak it without blushing ; I, my Lord, I love you with a friendship, so
solidly established, as neither sense nor fortune hath any part in it. I can publish it without
shame, and conserve it without blame, and loving you as if you were my brother, I do not
see that you have reason to complain. I know well nevertheless that you are not satisfied;
but what would you have me do, if love be a passion, whereof I am not capable? and if
marriage hath always past with me for a captivity, which is to be avoyded as much as possibly
may be? I protest unto you by the holy Prophet, whom we worsbip, that it I could be touched with this passion, it should be doubtless for you; never having had that inclination for
any one as I have for you. But let not this impossibility, I pray you, of my being in love,
disquiet you, since the friendship, which I promise you, is incomparably more excellent, and
more perfect. And to testifie unto you, that I do all that I can, if you have not power enough
to contain your self from desiring to marry me, I do permit you to use the best means you can
to get the Sophi and Soliman to consent unto it; which being obtained, I do here engage my
word to you no longer to oppose your desires. Behold, my Lord, all that I had to say to
you; and never hope for any more from me; for Axiamira's vertue can have no further indulgence for your passion.
Most vertuous Princess, replyed Gianger casting himself at her feet. What occasions do
you give me all at once, both of grief, and of satisfaction! with one hand you draw me out
of danger, and with the other you put me to death. You cannot answer my passion, and yet
you love me more then all the world beside; who ever saw an adventure equal to mine? my
Mistress refuses me her love, but in such a manner, as I am not permitred to have the comfort
to term her cruel and unpitiful; but contrarily, I must give her thanks for the wrong she does
me, and must admire in her the vertue which opposes my love, danger, in saying thus, looked on Axiamira with so much grief, as made me pity him. And whereas the Princesses goodness hath always allowed me a great deal of freedom with her, I took so much upon me as
to intermeddle in their discourse; so that addressing my self to the Prince, The permission,
my Lord, said I unto him, which hath been given you, should inspire you, me-thinks, with
other thoughts, then those which I perceive you have. Ah! my Princess, said he unto me,
(for he had always called me so, ever after we had put that trick upon him,) that which the
goodness of Axiamira grants, Fortune refuses me; interposing such obstacles as are not easie
to be vanquished: And in the state wherein things are, there needs a supernatural power to
change my evil destiny, unless you will help me to perswade Axiamira, that she will permit
me to marry her; for being then no longer in a condition to be Deliment's wife, or Soliman's
Mistress, the knowledg thereof would peradventure make their weapons fall out of their
hands. How! said Axiamira mightily surprized, have the Sophi and Soliman any interests
to be decided between them? Is it known that I am in your hands? and may I be so unhappy as to be the cause of the desolation of my Country? Gianger was very sorry that he
said so much before he was aware; but seeing the matter past remedy, and that likewise this
War could not be always concealed from Axiamira, he recounted unto her, that a little after
her shipwrack the War began between the Sophi and Soliman, without any other apparant
cause thereof known, then that he had been told how you alone had made him undertake it;
though the Sophi's subjects had contributed some pretext thereunto by the acts of hostility



which they had committed in Comagena; and then he acquainted her with the victories
which you had obtained against the Sophi, and the conquests which you had mad: He
vowed unto her, that neither he, nor his brother had contributed any thing to this War;
that it had been concluded, before they were advertised of it; that not having a more powerfull Confident about the Grand Signior then you, they could not oppose this design,
whereof you had been the principall cause; and that all they could do, had been to find out
Pretexts not to be present in it. In fine, Gianger told her all things, except what regarded Ulama, of whom he spake not at all: and by that which I could judge of it, he carried himself in that sort, because being ignorant ofthe affection which Ulama bore me, and believing
that he would be glad to return into his Country, if he met with an occasion for it; he imagined that the Princesse, who had often spoken to him of Ulama's zeal and fidelity, would
quickly give him intelligence of her being there, and then that Ulama to see his Native Soil
again, and to be well received there, would perswade the Princess to return thither. And it
may be also, as all Lovers are suspicious, that he had surmized by Axiamira's discourse, which
he had interpreted amisse, how Ulama was in love with her; at leastwise I could not conceive a better reason for it; howsoever he never acquainted her with any thing concerning him.
I will not tell you, my Lord, in what astonishment the Princesse was to hear of the desolation of her Country, by a Prince, whose Son had so much obliged her, and whom she could
not with reason hate. Howbeit she was so just, as to accuse none but Soliman, and Fortune
for her miseries. It is not enough then, said she weeping, that Soliman caused me to be carried away by force, but that he must also wast our Empire. And it was not enough, that the
War should have an unjust beginning, but that I must too be found on the enemies Party,
and in such a manner, as I am not so much as to desire to get from it. And my misfortune is
such, as I cannot make vowes for the Sophi, but I must make them likewise for Deliment,
who fights for him, though I have such cause to hate him; nor make vowes against Soliman,
without offending Mustapha and Gianger. In fine, my Lord, said she, turning her self to the
Prince, since I am in such a condition, as I am not able to make wishes without injustice, I
must resolve to put my selfe into such a condition, as I may no longer be able to desire any
thing, if it be true, that death is powerfull enough to deliver me from so many miseries. Such
were in this incounter Axiamira's expressions; and as for me, I confesse too with confusion,
that the Princes discourse gave me an unquietnesse, which was particular to me.
For having had no news of Vlama, since the time that he departed from the Court, I
could not judge what he had done during so great a disorder; this thought troubled me so
much, as I could not forbear demanding of Gianger, whether he knew not what was become
of Vlama? and whereas I was afraid, least the Princesse should condemn me for thinking of
Vlama, rather then comforting her, I looked on her at the very same instant, which, as I
think, confirmed Gianger the more in the opinion, that I have told you, I believed he had. For
after he had considered me, and then the Princess, he told me, that this War having much
afflicted bim, he knew not very well what had passed in it. But to abridge my discourse,
Mustapha and Sarraida were called in, as well to comfort the Princess, as to advise on that
which they were to do. And whenas Gianger had requested the Princess, she would permit
him to tell Mustapha what she had granted him, she answered him, that never doing or saying any thing, which she would have to be concealed, he might acquaint him with all that he
pleased. As soon as Mustapha appeared, she advanced towards him. And will you,my Lord,
said she unto him, be so generous, as not to hate a person, who weeps for the victories of Soliman? and who sheds tears when she sees the bounds of an Empire, which is destined to
you inlarged? Madam, answered courteous Mustapha, it is not for me to ask of you , whether you will be so just, as not to confound the innotent with the guilty, and also to indure
the sight of a man, who is the Son of a Prince, that is an enemy to the Sophi your Father?
but know, that if with my bloud I could save that of your Subjects, both to dry up your
tears, and those of Gianger, whom I love more then my life, I would shed it most willingly,
for your and his sake. But seeing this remedy can no way avail your griefs, receive the word
which now I give you, to omit nothing that lies in my power, which may conduce to the
happy terminating of this War: And in the estate wherein things are, I hold it more easie
to make a peace, then if Solimans arms had been less prosperous, and the Sophi's losses fewer;




because ordinarily the victorious Party pretends to no other glory, then that of making an advantagious peace; and the weaker out of the fear of losing all, consents easily to yeeld to
some thing, for the conservation of the rest. Mustapha's discourse being finished they advised all together, after they had well examined things, how they might best effect their design;
and the two Princes resolved to confide absolutely in you. To which end they chose out an
old Officer of Giangers, whom they sent to Constantinople, with order to tell you the truth
of all things. But by ill fortune, you were gone away before, upon a secret expedition
wherein Soliman had imployed you, although it was but four or five daies after the Triumph,
which was celebrated for him at your return from Persia. In the mean time, to facilitate
things on all sides, they believed it would not be amisse for Axiamira to write once more to
some one of her ancient friends, and that by this Letter, he, to whom she should addresse her
self, should be obliged to acquaint the Sophi that she was living; and that he should also
dexcrously inform himself, whether by a marriage of her with a Son of Solimans, a peace
might not be propounded. The Princess said hereupon, that she would never make this proposition; but Mustapha answered her, how it would suffice, if she did only write a letter, that
did make known she was living; and that did likewise assure, how the letter, which he
would write, was of a person considerable and powerfull enough, to treat of an Affair of
this importance.
The Princess, after she had a little thought on it, wrote to the Governor of Sultania, who
had been alwaies very much affected to her; and by this letter she conjured him to work the
Sophi to a peace all that ever he could. But before the publishing of her being alive, and
making the Proposition, which he should find in the lecter, he should send her his Opinion,
and acquaint her in what terms Deliment stood with the Sophi, whom she denoted unto
him, without naming him: she moreover assured him, that the Letter then written unto him,
came from a person, who was able to perform all that he would undertake; and he that carried it, had order to name him, even Mustapha. The Princes chose a man for this voyage, who
had lived a long time in Persia, and that understanding the Language and Customes of it, could
easily get to Sultania, when once he had put on the habit of the Country. This Governor,
having with extream joy learnt that the Princess was living, and transported more by zeal then
discretion, went; without doing ought that the Princesse had injoyned him, to Prince Mahamed, who had been set at liberty, as well as my Father, when as nothing could be proved against
them. For I forgot to tell you, how they had been made prisoners, out of an opinion conceived,
that they had caused us to be carried away. This man, I say, transported with an inconsiderate zeal, went to Prince Mahamed, and reading the Princess Letter to him, together with
that from Mustapha, they concluded together, that this Proposition would but exasperate
things, knowing very well that Deliment would never consent to a peace, which put Axiamira into the power of another, and therefore that it would but inflame the War the more,
instead of extinguishing it.
On the other side, Prince Mahamed, who was not ignorant how much averse the Princess
had ever been from Marriage, could not believe, but that the consent which she seemed to give
to Mustapha's Proposition, was wholly against her inclination: so that thinking to serve her,
and considering withall, that if she became the Wife of one of Solimans Sons, he should lose
her for ever, and me too, because he knew well that I would never abandon her, and that Vlama having changed his party, there was nothing left in the Court of Persia, which could
induce me to return thither; he believed, I say, that he was to labour the Princesses bringing
back again, by deceiving her: And for that purpose, having gained one of the Sophi's Secretaries, they made him write a letter to Mustapha in Tachmas name, with the Seal of the Empire annexed to it, whereby he testified his agreement to that Marriage, and past his word
to give him his Daughter, provided he might be assured she was living, by the report of some
person, that knew her, and whom he could trust; and to that effect he should cause her to be
brought to some little frontire Town, where after he had been cleared of this truth, he would perform his word with him.This Letter being consigned into the hand of him that had been sent, and he newly departed, a scruple came into the Princes minde, and a fear that Axiamira would be displeased
with him for this deceiving of her; so that instantly he dispatched away a Gentleman, that
was faithful to him, to the Princess at Amasia, for to advertise her of the truth of things; and



to tell her, that if she would return to Persia, his design was to lay an ambush by the means
of the Governor of Sultania for the taking her out of Mustapha's hands, if he conducted
her to that frontire Town, whereof the Letter, which he had caused to be written to him in
the Sophi's name, spake. But whil'st he who had been sent to Constantinople was returning
to tell us that you were not there; and that they which came from Sultania with such different Messages, were upon their way towards as, there were strange things a contriving in
the Serraglio; and the cruel Roxelana, making profit of your absence, meditated deadly adventures. But it may be, my Lord, you know them better then I am able to deliver them;
it being impossible but that you should be acquainted with then since your return.
Ibrahim seeing that Felixana attended his answer, requested her once again, after he had
craved permission of the Princess for it, to continue recounting unto him all that she knew
concerning the two Princes adventures; and not to fear speaking freely of matters, wherein Soliman had any part; because it was necessary he should know all the particularities of
this History, which no man yet durst tell him. Since you are pleased to enjoyn me to this,
said Felixana, and that the Princesses silence assures me she consents to it, I will tell you, that
you were no sooner departed, but Roxelana re-assuming her former Empire over Soliman,
obtained of him that Rustan might in some sort re-enter into grace; and that she might at
least-wise have the liberty to talk with him; for, as you know, she hath never been subjected to the rigors of the Serraglio: No more are you ignorant without doubt of the hatred,
which she hath always born to Muslapha, since you have been so long his protector. But hear,
my Lord, the most extraordinary artifice that ever was made use of to undo one. Roxelana
following the ancient designs, which she had had for the ruining of Prince Mustapha, saw
you no sooner gone, but complotting with Rustan, she began to lay the foundations of her
wicked intentions. She spake no longer to Soliman of anything but the merit, valor, and
spirit of Mustapha. And to arrive unto the mark which she had propounded to her self, she
caused Rustan through his wiles to oblige all the Sangiacks of the Province of Amasia, whereof Mustapha was Governor-General, all those which commanded men of war under him,
and some of them of the places adjoyning, to write greatly in the praise of Mustapha to this
wicked man; principally of his liberality, of his courtesie, and of the affection which every
one bare him: because, said he unto them, the Grand Signior would be glad of it, and would
take it well at their hands. These people were not hardly drawn to be perswaded to a thing
which seconded their inclinations; and which also they beleeved would be advantageous to
Prince Mustapha, whom they loved so ardently. They wrote then according to Rustan's designs without swerving from the truth; it being very certain, that never Prince surmounted
Mustapha, in shape in wit, in bounty, in greatness of courage, in magnificence, in courtesie,
and in generosity. Neither was there ever Prince so generally beloved, unless Prince Gianger
his brother might be compared unto him, who though he were the younger, yet lest he not
to be graced with the same qualities, which were so eminently seen in the other
But I am carryed away, my Lord, in commending these two infortunate Princes without
thinking how you knew them, not better, but longer then I. Wherefore I will return unto my discourse, to let you understand, that all these letters being come to Rustan's hands, he gave them to Roxelana; who with a feigned sincerity, and apparent joy in her face, shewed them all to Soliman, as it were rejoycing to see him have so worthy a successor. The Sultan took delight, not onely in reading the praises which were given to his son, but also in observing the affection which Roxelana seemed to bear him. So that this wicked woman, judging how all that she could say would not longer be suspected, one day, when as she shewed one of these Letters to Soliman which commended the Prince; My Lord, said she unto him, (as good Achmat recountd it unto us, who understood all these particularities from Soliman's own mouth) may I dare give thee one mark of my love, in giving thee one of my fear? All that proceeds from so noble a cause, answered the Sultan cannot be but very agreeable unto me. I must then, continued she, tell thee a thought which is come into my minde, in hearing the continual praises, which thou dayly receivest, to the glory of Mustapha. It is not, my Lord, because I bear him any envy; for Heaven is my witness, if I do not love him better then mine own children, whom I scarcely love, but because they are thine. But, my Lord, if the glory of Mustapha be dear unto me, thine is yet dearer. And I remember upon this occasion, how the Emperor Selim thy Father used the same sleight to-






wards thy Grandfather Baiazet; acquiring with time such a credit amongst the Soldiers and
people, as in the end he found himself powerful enough to dispossess him of his Empire. It
is not because I do not see well enough that the same thing is not like to arrive, for our holy
Prophet keeps thee so charily, as I need not fear ought that way. But yet me-thinks, thy
Highness may, without offence to Mustapha, appoint some to observe his actions; since if
they be good and sincere, his spies shall be so many testimonies, that will speak of him to his
glory; and if they be not so, thy Highness may then provide for thy safety. For, my Lord,
as often as I call to minde the things which thou hast told me of the youth of Selim, me-thinks I see them all in Mustapha; with this difference notwithstanding, that Mustapha
hath a better aspect, is handsomer, is more liberal, and more civil; in a word, said she unto
him smiling, more dangerous then Selim, if he have the same will, as I shall not lightly beleeve; nor have I spoken to thy Highness of it, but that nothing might be neglected, which
regards the felicity of thy Kingdom, and the quiet of thy life.
This artificial discourse made no great impression in Soliman minde; but yet it left a
suspicion there, which increased with time; and it was a disposition to make him give credit the more easily afterwards to all the ill that was told him of his son. He thanked Roxelana for the care she had of the good of his State; and assured her that he should never take
any thing ill which she should say to him. That for Mustapha, he beleeved him to be too
well born to pluck away the Scepter from him, and to despoyl him of an Empire, that was
destined to him after his death. Roxelana, seeing that this artifice wrought not all the effect
she expeded from it, consults anew with the Traytor Rustan, who told her, that at any
rate whatsoever Mustapha was to be made away before you were returned to the Port, and
that the easiest way for it would be to seek to poyson him; for which purpose they were to
send a daring and faithful man, with good store of money, to corrupt some one of the Princes Officers, that waited on him at his Table. But seeing a great deal of hazard in this enterprize, she could hardly resolve on it, yet had she consented unto it, had not an accident fallen
out, which made her change her resolution. But, my Lord, admire here the strange proceeding
of things of this world! whil'st Roxelana and Rustan sought for means to destroy Mustapha,
and that all their malice could finde out none, that could fully satisfie their cruel hatred, the zeal
and fidelity of one of the ancient Officers of this deplorable Prince, furnished them with an
occasion for it. This man had been his first Governor, when as he went out of the Serraglio;
and was he to whom Soliman, during the youth of his son, had given in charge to render
him an account of his actions: But whereas the Prince had never done any, but such as were
worthy, he could not advertise ought, that was not to the advantage of his Master.
Now after that Mustapha's age had dispensed him from the obedience, which he had yeelded
to this man, he had still retained him at Amasia; conversing a little less familiarly with him,
then with his other domesticks, by reason he was of somewhat an austere humor, and that
his former authority did as yet conserve some awe and respect in Mustapha towards him.
This man for all that loved the Prince extreamly, who on the other side heaped wealth and felicity on him. Howbeit he had a scrupulous vertue, which perswaded him, that though he
held nothing of that which he enjoyed but from Mustapha, yet that he owed all to Soliman, who had placed him about him; so that without considering; the Princes interests, as
soon as Soliman's came to be in competition with them, he betook him to the Sultan's party.
This man then, being of the humor I have represented unto you, was at Amasia, whil'st the
Princess and I were there; And though he knew that there were two women in his Masters
Palace, who were not known, or seen, yet had he not made an affair of State of it, but had
beleeved that which had been told him, as well as other of the Princes Officers, how we
were two of Sarraida's kinswomen, who for certain reasons would not be seen of any body.
But it chanced for our ill hap, that this man walking out of the Town encountred that which
caused all our misfortune. For to clear this History unto you, please you to understand, that
he whom the Princess had sent to Sultania, having been overtaken by him whom Prince
Mahamed had dispatched away presently after him, they had travelled together, without
knowing that they were come from one and the same place, and were going to the same persons. So that falling in talk of indifferent things (for the Persian understood the Turkish
Tongue well) and the War, which was then betwixt the Sophi and the Sultan, being the
subject of the conversation of all those which knew not one another, they grew so hot in




discoursing about it the very day wherein they were to arrive at Amasia, as the Persian, not
able to disguise his thoughts, as he had done his language and his habit, burst out into saying,
that Soliman was an Usurper; which the other unable to endure and being become more
audacious, because he was nigh to a place where he knew he should be protected, he drew
out his scimitar, and very fiercely set upon the Persian, who, being more dextrous, and better mounted then he, quickly decided the combate with three blows that he gave him, which
made him fall dead at his feet. This being done without witnesses, the Persian continued his
way and almost a minute after he was out of sight, Mustapha's said ancient Governor arrived at the place where the combate was fought, and presently knowing that man, because
he had belonged to the Prince, he approached t ohim, marks whether he gives any sign of
life, and laying his hand upon the region of his heart, he meets there with the pacquet that
was direded to Mustapha, which that man had put into a little bag that he had hung about
his neck. The sight hereof possest the Governor with some curiosity, so that seeing no mark
of life in that wretched man, but contrarily observing all the signs of death in him, which
are wont to be seen in them whose end hath been violent, he speedily withdrew from that
same place, carrying the little bag along with him; and being got far enough out of the
way, he opened it, and was much abashed, when he perceived the Sophi's seal.
I leave you to judg, my Lord, whether that exact fidelity, which he had always observed
to Soliman, did permit him to deliberate long upon that subject: he never stuck at it then;
and to testifie his respect to the Grand Signior, as well as his fidelity, he resolves to send him
those Letters without opening them. And seeing by the superscription of that which was
directed to Axiamira, that she must needs be in Amasia, he reflected on the being of two
women conceded in Mustapha's Palace; and calling to minde an hundred petty circumstances, which when they arrived had made no impression in his minde, he certainly beleeved,
that the Princess of Persia was in Mustapha's hands: So that perswaded of this truth, he
re-entred into the Town through another gate then that which he went out at; and without
making shew of what had befallen him, he the next day dispatches a man away to Constantinople, enjoyns him to address himself to some of the Bassa's for to present him to the Grand
Signior, and commands him above all things to use great speed.
In the mean time the Persian being arrived at Amasia, and not fearing to be accused for
the death of him whom he had killed, since their combate had been without witnesses, he
comes boldly to the Palace, demands to speak with Mustapha, and after he had made himself known to him to be a Persian, and had given him assured marks that he came from
Prince Mahamed, he desires to be admitted to the Princess; which was granted him. And
when he had acquitted him of his Commission, Axiamira remained very much surprized;
for she knew by his discourse, that he whom they had sent to Sultania was too long in returning, since this man, who set forth a day after him, was already come. She hoped nevertheless, as well as the Princes, that this unquietness would soon cease; and beleeved that some
inconvenience having kept this man from coming so fast as the other, he would arrive at last,
and so give an end to their fear. But the day following, the body of him, whom the Persian
had slain, having been found by some that passed by, he was brought into the Town, and
known to be one belonging to the Prince, who was presently advertised thereof. And whereas it was a matter of importance, he went in person to cause the Letters to be searched for,
which we beleeved he had hidden somewhere in his clothes; but having found none about
him, the Princess was very much afflicted at it, fearing with a great deal of reason, lest these
Letters should come into the hands of such, as might give Soliman to understand that she was
in his Dominions. Yet Gianger in some sort comforted her, by perswading her that this
man who, as be said, was cunning and dextrous, seeing himself engaged in a combate, had
without doubt thrown them away, for fear they should be found about him, if he should
happen to have the worst in this occasion. At length, not able to do otherwise, she suffered
her self to be somewhat perswaded of it: and after she had considered what she was to do
she sent back the Persian without other answer, then that she assured Prince Mahamed of
her affection, and that he should within a few days hear from her, not daring to venture more
Letters so soon after this cross adventure; and deferring also the taking of her last resolutions,
till they should know what could be expected from you.
But when we learnt a tittle after, by the return of him who had been sent to Constan-tinople, that you were not there, the unquietness of the Princess, and of my self, strangely
redoubled. Yet we did not know all the occasions that we had for it: for the Sophi's false
Letter to Mustapha, and those which were direded to Axiamira, having been delivered to
Rustan, through the simplicity of him, which should have given them to none but to the
Grand Signior himself, it might be said, how his inconsiderate zeal did that in this occasion,
which all the cunning of Rustan, and the wickedness of Roxelana, could never have done
without him. Rustan went presently to her, and opening these Letters with a great deal of
care to preserve the Seals of them whole and entire, they found therein wherewithall to satisfie
their desires, and execute their mischievous designs. Roxelana took these Letters with
joy into her charge, and as soon as they had sealed them up again, she sent word to Soliman that she hid something of importance to communicate unto him; whereupon he instantly
repaired unto her, and was received by her with the accustomed respect, but with an extraordinary sadness in her countenance, though in her heart she was infinite glad. The Sultan,
who always loved her dearly, demanded of her with some unquietness, what it was that afflicted her? She answered him, that being enforced for the good of his Empire, and the preservation of his person, to discover a matter unto him, which would much amaze and grieve
him, she could not be without affliction. This obscure discourse having redoubled the Sultan's
curiosity, and already even excited some trouble in his soul, she went on, beseeching him to
remember the suspicions which she had of Mustapha, though he had neglected them, and
at length intermixing the praises of the Prince, with her accusations against him, she presents
the false Letter, that was directed to Mustapha, unto Soliman, tells him (as indeed it was
true) that his ancient Governor sent it unto him; and after she had made him consider the
importance of it, she represents unto him, that if Mustapha came once to be joyned to Tachmas, it would be easie for him to seize upon his Throne: That he was not to expect the succor of the Janizaries against the Prince, because his liberality had gained them all; that the
people loved him; that the Bassa's feared and esteemed him; and that in fine this affair was
so important, as it concerned both his Empire, and his life.
Soliman hearing all these things, knowing the fidelity of him that sent him this Letter, seeing Tachmas seal to it; and coming to consider, that Mustapha had with address declined
the War of Persia, he no longer doubted but that he was guilty; albeit Axiamira's shipwrack perplexed him, and kept him from comprehending this pretended marriage. His tenderness of this Prince made him nevertheless seek in his heart, how he might favorably interpret the accusations, which were brought against his innocence. But the conjectures were
so strong, and Roxelana's perswasions so powerful, as fatherly affection gave place to reason
of State. He would fain have put this affair into the deliberation of his privy Councel, but
in regard you were not at the Port, he knew not whom to rely on. He propounded Achmat
to Roxelana, but she, being in fear of this mans vertue, represented unto him, that he was
too much affected to the Prince to hope for any faithful counsel from him in this encounter.
In the end she knew how to sway the Sultan's minde with so much address and malice, as
he himself commanded Rustan to be sent for, who was the onely man that Roxelana did not
except against. He was no sooner arrived, but the Grand Signior asked his advice concerning
the matter in question. He answered at first, with a feigned submission, that it was onely
for him to execute his Highness resolutions, and not to give him counsel. But after he had
caused himself to be commanded more then once to deliver his opinion, he aggravated the
matter with so much art, and made shew of such dangerous consequences in this affair if it
were neglected, as Soliman, being absolutely resolved to look to his conservation, commanded him to make himself ready to set forth with six thousand men, which should march away
under pretext of being sent to Ulama as a recruit. That in the mean time, in passing by Amasia, he should assure himself of Mustapha's person with as little stir as possibly he could,
for fear of causing some revolt in that Province.
Rustan having received this Order, thought of nothing but executing it. And whereas
the Troops, which he was to conduct, were ready to march, he departed away within a few
days, after he had received from Roxelana the instructions, that were necessary to make
the design, which she had to ruine Mustapha, succeed. As indeed, Rustan was no sooner upon the frontiers of Amasia, but he wrote unto Soliman, that Mustapha had gained all the
Soldiers; that they would receive no command but from him; that all was full of conspira-





cies; that the people were everywhere ready to revolt; that he was not in a condition to
oppose so many Enemies; and in conclusion, that his presence was absolutely necessary for
the calming of this storm. Now that which made Rustan advertise Soliman of all these
things was because he certainly knew, that the vertue of Mustapha was so generally beloved
in all that Province, as is he undertook to go with open force against him, he would be in
danger of being lost, and of utterly ruining Roxelana's designs. He considered withall, that
if he conducted the Prince to Constantinople, all the Bassa's, all the Janizaries, and all the
people joyning together, might peradventure cause a general revolution, if they enterprized
the taking away of Mustapha's life.
This consideration of his succeeded but too well; for Soliman no sooner understood so
much from him, but he resolved for his voyage. Howbeit that which powerfully carryed
him to do what Rustan desired, was the intelligence he gave him, how by a second Letter
from Mustapha's Governor he was informed, that the Princess of Persia was in his hands.
So that Soliman, filled with choller and jealousie, and thinking that as Rustan had escaped
shipwrack, so Axiamira not being dead might be in the hands of his son, who was fallen in
love with her, parted instantly away, with all the Troops and Janizaries which he had about
him; leaving no more behinde then such as were necessary for the ordinary guard of his Serraglio. But before he went from Roxelana, she made him promise her, that he would forget
all things to think of his own security. Vertuous Achmat told us since, that Soliman had a
strange combate within himself, and that Nature and Reason a long time opposed the wickedness of this woman. But at length she made him see the peril so great, and so neer unto
him, as in parting from her, she got him to promise her two things; the one, that he should
not see Mustapha, and the other, that he should sacrifice him to his own proper safety.
With this deadly resolution he went and joyned with Rustan, these things nevertheless were
not so closely carryed, but the Bassa Achmat was advertised, how this tempest was going
to fall upon the head of Mustapha; so that at the very same time, when as Soliman, being
encamped neer to Aleppo, had sent the Prince a Command to come unto him, to render him
an account of the Princess of Persia, Achmat dispatched away a Post, to advertise him that
some great design was plotting against him, and that he was accused of something, wherein
the Princess of Persia was mentioned: but not able to tell him precisely what it was, all that
he could do in this occasion, considering the state wherein he saw things, was to counsel him
not to come.
I leave you to judg, generous Ibrahim, whether, receiving at one and the same instant
Soliman's command, and Achmat's advertisement, the Princes and the Princess were not
strangely surprized; And so much the more, because that Persian was on the very same day
brought back to Mustapha, whom Axiamira had returned to Prince Mahamed, and had
been taken upon the frontire for a spy, though he beleeved, that it was for that it had been
discovered how he had slain that Officer of Mustapha's, which came out of Persia with
him; so that he no sooner saw the Prince, but he cast himself at his feet, confessed his crime
begged his pardon for it, and recounted unto him the combate between that Turk and him,
as I have related it unto you. But whatsoever was demanded of him, he still maintained,
that he whom he had killed had not thrown away any Letters during the combate, as we had
beleeved; which made us fear more then before, lest some one had gotten them after
his death, and sent them to Soliman. Prince Gianger was even in despair to see his brother
in trouble for the love of him: Axiamira was in an affliction, which I cannot represent unto you; the fear of falling into Soliman's hands made her resolve for death; and the thought of being the cause of the mine of two Princes, to whom she was so much oliged, augmented her grief far more. Sarraida, who loved her husband more than her self, was
wholly dissolved into tears, out of her fear of the danger whereunto she saw him exposed;
Mustapha, though more constant, yet was sensibly touched with the tears of the rest; and as for me, if I may be permitted to name my self after so many illustrious persons, I was so afflicted, as my own misfortunes were never so sensible to me.In the mean time, we knew not what resolution to take, Gianger would go and present himself to the Grand Signior to justify his brother, and confess that he alone was culpable: but as soon as he came to think, that he should abandon Axiamira; that he should either let her return to Persia, or put her into the hands of Soliman, who was both his Father and




his Rival, he could by no means resolve on it, but fell again into his despair. Axiamira on
her part found no way to escape this peril; she would fain have saved these two Princes and
saved herself too: but not able to go into Persia, neither to see Soliman, nor rest safe in a
place, where she was no longer unknown, she found that death alone could draw her out of
so many miseries. As for Mustapha, his greatest sorrow was to see the affliction of his brother, and the fear he was in, that his Palace would not be an inviolable sanctuary to the Princess Axiamira: for touching the rest, said he unto her, I am not much troubled. If Soliman
deals rigorously with me, it will always be with injustice, knowing as I do, that I have never
had a thought against the service which I owe to him, and after this satisfaction, I fear
not death. But that which afflicts me, continued he, is the doubt, that if I go and present my
self to Soliman, they will come and do you some wrong in my absence, and that is it for
which I do not see how we can finde a remedy.
Sarraida, hearing her husband speak in this sort, cast her self at his feet to disswade him from
this design, and to pray him to remember (said she, after she had craved pardon of Gianger)
how exceedingly Roxelana had sought for a pretext to undo him; that having met with one
he might be assured she would make use of it to his ruine: and that it was better for him to
stay in Amasia, and there to defend himself, or fly away, then to expose himself to so evident a danger. But Mustapha's generosity not permitting him to resolve either for the one
or the other; it becomes your affection, answered he, to counsel me in this manner, but it
becomes not the courage of Mustapha to be perswaded by you: and since I am innocent, I
will never fly like a guilty man. For in fine, though I seem to have failed, according to rigorous and exact policy, in not advertising Soliman that the daughter of his Enemy was in my
power, yet I think that I swerve not much from soveraign Reason in serving so excellent a
Princess and my brother; and in contributing nothing to the Sultan's unjust love, so that
after this inferior satisfaction, I will remit my innocence to the conduct of Heaven, which
is always the protector of it. Gianger seeing his resolution, desired Axiamira, not to take
it ill if he went to dye with his brother; but Mustapha, without giving the Princess leasure to
answer, told him, that he would not suffer it, but he would leave him to guard the Princess
Axiamira, and his dear Sarraida.
I should never have done, if I would report unto you all that, which love, fear, generosity, and despair, made these illustrious persons say in this sad conversation. As for me, I
heard all their discourse without speaking: when as on a sudden, the desire which I had to
serve them inspired me with a mean, whereby I beleeved I could save Mustapha, secure
Axiamira, dry up Sarraida's tears, render Gianger moxe excusable, signalize the affection
which I bare the Princess, and destroy all the wicked designs of Mustapha's Enemies. Verily this thought possest me with so extraordinary a joy, as it quickly appeared in my eyes amidst the tears which I shed: but whereas I feared that the Princesses generosity would be
an obstacle to my design, I fell at her feet, and besought her to give me her word, that she
would not refuse a mean, which I thought I had found to draw them all one of the pain
and danger wherein I saw them. Ah, my dear maid, said she unto me, dost thou think that
a person which would receive death with joy, if it were presented unto her, can refuse thy
assistance? but I greatly fear, continued she, that thy affection does but abuse thee, and that
the extream desire thou hast to serve me makes thee beleeve that to be easie, which I hold
impossible. No, no, Madam, answered I; and provided you will promise me not to oppose
this design, I assure you that you your self will finde a great deal of probability in it.
Sarraida, seeing that Axiamira made not much haste to answer me, prest her so far, as
she gave me her word to do all that I would have her. She had no sooner said so, but rendering her thanks for the permission she gave me to serve her, I imparted unto her in what manner I hoped to secure her. And to make her comprehend it the better, I caused her to remember, how the same Merchant who sold her picture to Soliman, as being mine, had also sold
mine to Prince Gianger, as being hers: So that to draw them out of the trouble wherein they
were, and to put her in safety, Mustapha was to conduct me to Soliman, seeming to beleeve
that I was the Princess of Persia; which he was likewise to confirm by the picture that Prince
Gianger had of me, and by the testimony of the Merchant who had sold it unt ohim. And withall Soliman, by his own experience, would not have much ado to beleeve, that the
Prince might have been deceived, as well as himself. That in this sort Mustapha might deny




the having the right Princess of Persia in his hands, and consequently that she would be in safety. That for me, I was to say, how having been found on the Sea-shoar after our shipwrack, they had presented me to Sarraida, who out of her goodness had received me into her Palace, where I had almost ever since been sick: And that not about eight days before, Gianger had seen me at his brothers, and taken me for the Princess of Persia, by means of my picture that he had. That instantly thereupon he purposed to have carryed me to Constantinople; being ready to set forth on that voyage, just as he received Soliman's command. I told them further, that if by ill fortune the Letters from Persia, which had been lost, were in the Sultan's hands, he was boldly to deny any knowledg thereof, since no body could convince him of it. And that he was to say, how without doubt it was an artifice of his Enemies who having understood by some way, unknown to him, that the Princess of Persia
was in his power, had counterfeited those letters, for to bring him into hatred with Soliman. And as for me, said I to the Princess, never trouble your self, Heaven, which hath inspired me with this design, knows how to preseve me, if I be worthy of protection; if not, I shall still dye with joy, if I dye for the saving of so many excellent persons. Ah, Felixana! said the Princess unto me, I will not be saved with the loss of you; and if your zeal carries you to this resolution, reason will not let me consent unto it. You have promised it me,
Madam, said I interrupting her; and I cannot think that a great Princess will ever break her
word. And then again I do not see that my loss is undoubted; for howsoever, continued I,
Soliman cannot accuse me but for a little while receiving the honors, which were rendered to
me as to the Princess of Persia, though I were not she; but thereunto I am to say, that to be
in the more safety, out of the respect which was beleeved to be due to my condition. I had
not disabused the Prince, staying to make my self known for that which I was, till I was at
his Highness feet, to beg his pardon, and to beseech him to grant me my liberty.
Sarraida, seeing a great deal of likelyhood in that which I said, earnestly intreated Axiamira
no longer to resist this design. Gianger called me his Deliverer, and said such obliging things
unto me, as I shall never forget the remembrance of them. For Mustapha, though he saw
some probability of that which I propounded, yet his great heart could not resolve to disguise
the truth; and had he not certainly known, that it was the only way which could permit
him to hope, that he might put the Princess Axiamira in safety, he had never consented unto
it. But that consideration, joyned to the extream affection which he carried to his brother,
made him resolve at length for all that was desired of him. We prepared our selves then to
depart the next day; I will not relate unto you what the separation was between the Princess
and me, between Gianger and Mustapha, between Mustapha and Sarraida, since it would
but renew our sorrows for a matter that is not absolutely necessary you should know. But I
will only tell you, that the separation of the Soul and body is never made with such violent
grief as ours was, at the sad moment of that deadly and last farewelL I was put into a Charet,
with two women which Sarraida gave me to wait upon me, and Mustapha accompanied
with a small train, to shew the more confidence, marched on horseback some fifty paces
before us. We arrived at the Emperors Camp a day later then we thought we should,
because the Charet, wherein I was, being broken, took up so much time to re-accommodate it.
And you will know, my Lord, by the sequel of my discourse, how it is not without cause that
I have noted this unto you. We were no sooner lighted at a Tent, which had been prepared
tor us, but Prince Mustapha, who thought he should have conducted me to Soliman, received
an Order to attend his Commandments there, and to remit me into the hands of a Bassa who
was to present me to his Highness. I confess that this proceeding amazed me and that I began to be in fear for the Prince. At the very same instant he received sundry advices, that his
ruine was resolved and certain, if he did not repel force with force: the Chieftains of the Army, and the Aga of the Janizaries gave him to understand, that if he wouid they would rebel, and not only save his life but see the Crown upon his head. To all this he aniwered nothing, save that he might well be unhappy, but he could never be guilty; that he had rather
dye with injustice, then raign unjustly; and in fine that their zeal going too far for the love of him, he could not recompence them better for it, then in keeping them from offending. As for me, when I went out of his Tent with tears in my eyes, he requested me, that at my coming before Soliman I should obtain of him, that he might in person justifie himself of the accusations that were brought against his innocency; and that he would be so good as






not to condemn him without hearing him. I promised him all that he desired of me, without
scarcely knowing what I did so much was my mind troubled, through the fear I was in, that
my design would not succeed. Howbeit I strove to settle my countenance before I should appear before Soliman; the Bassa that conducted me had the goodness not to hasten me too
much, so that I had the leasure to recollect my self a little. I was made to pass through three Tents, before I arrived at the Sultans, but every one that I saw seemed so sad unto me, and I
heard Mustapha so often named softly, as from that very time I perceived but too well that
he was utterly lost.
At my first appearance Soliman seemed to be very much surprized; and beholding me
with an angry look, he demanded of the Bassa that brought me, where the Princess of Persia
was? My Lord, said he unto him, Prince Mustapha delivered no other then this person unto
me, whom I saw him treat as if she were the Princess of Persia. I no sooner heard this answer (for I had already learned a little of your language) but I cast my self at the Sultans
feet, and humbly besought him to hear me. I will hear no lying, answered he. My Lord,
replyed I, it is not to keep thy Highness from punishing it, that I beg the favor of thee to be
heard, but to keep thee from confounding the innocent with the guilty; for in fine, my Lord,
I am faulty, and Mustapha is absolutely innocent. I would I had given thee, answered the
grand Signior thereupon, the half of my Empire, that Mustapha were not guilty. My Lord,
replyed I with more confidence then before, I do crave but two things of thee to give thee
that satisfaction; the one is, that thou wilt hear me without interrupting me; and the other,
that thou wilt permit the Prince to justifie himself in person. This last, answered he, is impossible, but for the other I do grant it thee; and promise thee moreover, that if thou doft
justifie Mustapha (which I do not believe thou canst do) there is nothing which thou dost
not obtain ofme. I did not yield at the very first; I besought him that he would see the
Prince; I labored to vanquish him with my reasons; but at last seeing I nothing prevailed, I
declared the matter unto him, as we had resolved it; and that with so much ingenuity, as I
well perceived he beleeved me. I repeated this History from Rustans arrival at Mazanderon,
and coming to speak of our shipwrack, I lamented the loss of the Princess, I spake of her as
beleeving her to be dead; and recounced also, how Sarraida had received me from those,
who had found me on the Sea-shoar; and consequently, how a little before Prince Gianger,
having seen me with Sarraida, where I had been for the most part sick, had beleeved that I
was the Princess of Persia, by reason of a picture which he had ofme, and which a Merchant, who had deceived him, had sold him for Axiamira's: I told him moreover, that as
soon as Mustapha was perswaded, that I was the Princess of Persia, he had prepared himself for the conducting of me to his Highness. That for me, I had not disabused him, as
well to be the more secured, as for that I hoped I should the more easily obtain my liberty,
when as I should request it of him by the memory of the infortunate Axiamira.
Soliman, moved with my words, fetched a great sigh, and testified both by his carriage
and his discourse, that he was afflicted for the loss of the Princess; and yet that he had some
joy, in regard he could hope that Mustapha was not so faulty as he beleeved him to be,
and that in the end he might justifie himself. In this thought, the Sultan spake very gently
unto me; and truly I must acknowledg, that I never saw a more charming Majesty, then that
of this Prince. But, generous Ibrahim, of how short a continuance was that happy instant!
for you must know, that Rustan, the wickedest of men, set forth with Soliman's consent
at that very time, when as Mustapha was sent for to come to the Camp: but he went to
Amasia through a by-way, followed by a thousand archers on horseback; having sent two
spies into that Town, to advertise him when Mustapha was gone from thence, to the end
he might take Sarraida, and from her draw out the truth, in case the Prince should deny it:
this cunning brain imagining, that a jealous woman would be capable of telling all. But the
principal subject of that voyage, was to seize upon the Princess of Persia, if the Prince did
not bring her along with him; and to search in Mustapha's Cabinet for some other Letters
from the Sophi, which might also convince him of intelligence with the Enemies of the
State. So that one day after we were parted from Amasia Rustan arrived there, with
absolute Order, to him that commanded in that place in the absence of Mustapha, to obey
Rustan as is it were his Highness himself. You know, my Lord, that these kinde of commands do seldom finde any rebellious in this Empire: and since there have been many times




Bassa's seen, who have sent their Heads, although they have been Generals of Armies, and
that they have been required of them but by one man, accompanyed onely with four Mutes; I think you will not think it less strange, that the Governor of Amasia, albeit much affected to Mustapha, should notwithstanding open him the gates, as soon as he had seen Rustan's power, and that too without consulting with Prince Gianger thereupon.I leave you to imagine in what a case this Prince was when he beheld Rustan at Mustapha's Palace gate, followed by so great a number of armed men. The first thing he did, was to go with speed to Axiamira's lodging, either to endevor the saving of her, or to dye in her
defence. But this thought of affection was that, which caused her to be taken the more easily;
for Rustan had no sooner marked the way which Gianger took, but leaving one part of
his forces at the gate, he followed the Prince in haste with the other, even to Axiamira's
chamber, whereinto he entred by force with him. Judg, illustrious Bassa, what became
of the Princess when she saw Rustan, whom she presently knew. Ah base villain! cryed
she, comest thou now to carry me away forcibly a second time? He must first, said Gianger
with a great deal of fury, take away my life thus unarmed as I am. I will do neither the one
nor the other, answered wicked Rustan, who would not be constrained to come to violence against the son of Roxelana; but I will onely execute the Grand Signior's Order, who
hath commanded me to bring him all the papers which shall be found in Mustapha's Cabinet.
Sarraida, who was with Axiamira, and knew well enough that there could be nothing
found which might be prejudicial to her husband, went her self and shewed him the door
of it. In the mean time, to separate danger from the Princess, Rustan told him that he had
a matter of importance to communicate unto him; but the Prince answered him, that having
no interest severed from Axiamira, he might speak before her.
Rustan surprized with the liberty of this discourse, began to deal in another manner; and
letting Gianger see the absolute power which he had, he put the Princess into despair, and Gianger into fury, who, without considering that his resistance would render him culpable, lest
not, quite unarmed as he was, to do strange things in opposition of Axiamira's carrying away by force. He would have snatched Rustan's scimitar from him, to have used it against
him, and doubtless he had done it, if those with whom he was accompanyed had not hindred
him. He sought all about the chamber for something wherewith he might have defended himself; but at length seeing all his endevors vain, he past from one extremity to another,
and after he had exceedingly reviled him, he on a sudden conjured him with tears in his eyes,
that he would have some pity on him in the person of the Princess Axiamira; that he
would remember he was the son of Roxelana, whose daughter he had marryed, being assured if the Sultana his Mother knew his designs, she would approve of them; that he
would consider how Mustapha coming one day to raign, he could not meet with a beeter occasion to secure his fortune, then to oblige him in this encounter; that besides, knowing how
considerable the interests of the Sultana. Queen were to him, he found that he should not do
her any very good service in conducting a Princess to Soliman, with whom he was desperately in love.
To all these things, Rustan answered with an insolent coldness, how he remembred very
well, that he was the son of Roxelana, and for that onely reason Soliman should not know
of the resistance he made to the execution of his commandments; that he feared not the disobliging of Roxelana by conducting Axiamira to his Highness, since she could be but his
Slave, and that Roxelana would always be the Sultana Queen. His Slave! answered Gianger and Axiamira both together, surprized with so insolent a speech, that shall never be.
I should abuse your patience, if I should repeat unto you all that love, fury, and despair, made
Prince Gianger say upon this occasion; and all that sorrow and generosity put into the Princesses mouth in so grievous an encounter: but in conclusion they must give way to force, and
obey. Sarraida also had a command to enter into a charet with Axiamira, which she did
without any resistance, as soon as she had obtained, that an onely son, which she had, should
not abandon her; but contrarily, she seemed to have some consolation, out of the thought
that she was going to meet with bet dear Mustapha again. As for Gianger, Rustan told him,
that he might do what he pleased, but this Prince was not in an estate to reason upon that he
had to do. It is easie for you to comprehend the deplorable condition wherein he found himself, and what the separation was between that Prince and the Princess. He earnestly desired




her to think of her conservation; and to comfort her in some sort, he told her, how he hoped
that Soliman could not resist her tears; that he had a great and generous soul; and that, provided love did not prove stronger in him then reason, he was most assured that she would remain very well satisfied of him; that in the mean time he promised to do all things possible
for her service; and that if by ill fortune he saw things desperate, he would despair himself,
and at least-wise for the love of her, since he had not been able to live for her. A discourse so
tender drew tears from the fair eyes of the Princess, as she assured me afterwards. She reached out her hand to him in turning away her head to conceal her weeping from him and assured him that whatsoever Fortune could do, she should never destroy the friendship and
esteem which she had for him: That she promised him, for a testimony that she would not
be ingrateful, to think as much of the conservation of Mustapha, as of her own, and not
to attempt any thing on her life, if nothing were attempted on her honor. This discourse
had lasted longer, if cruel Rustan, who had been busie in ordering of his men, had not separated them, and caused the Princesses, and the little Prince to part away, whom he placed
in the midst of the thousand Archers, which had accompanyed him thither. Gianger seeing
he could enterprize nothing for the saving of the inconsolable Axiamira, set himself at least
to follow her; and getting instantly to horse, he never lost the sight of her charet.
Now, my Lord, I have already told you, I think, that Rustan arrived at Amasia the next
day after Mustapha and I were gone from thence; so that our voyage having lasted a day
longer then it should have done, by reason of that breaking of the charet, whereof, if I be
not mistaken, I have spoken to you before; and Rustan having caused the Princesses to set
forth two hours after his arrival; chance, or to say better, our ill fortune, brought the matter about with so strange a justness of time, that at the very same instant, when as I was beseeching Soliman by the memory of the Princess Axiamira; when as I was lamenting her
untimely death, and was all in tears with the grief that I said I was in for her loss, I saw her
come in followed by Sarraida, and conducted by Rustan, who at the very first named her
to the Grand Signior. To tell you, generous Ibrahim, what a case I was in, and that which
this sight effected boch in Soliman's minde and mine, is absolutely impossible for me: the
Sultan beheld me with an eye of indignation and fury, and turning himself towards me, he
said unto me with a strong and impetuous voyce; Is it in this sort then, that thou justifiest
Mustapha! but know, continued he, that justice shall be done to thee as well as to him.
Sarraida, hearing her husband named, cast her self at Solimans feet, to protest unto him
that he was innocent: but he, without hearing or heeding her, turned about to the Princess
with a little more civility, and said unto her with a countenance that yet resented the trouble
of his soul; it was then but for Soliman that the Princess of Persia suffered shipwrack! It
was but for Soliman that she was dead! or to say better, it is but for the happy Mustapha
that she hath escaped the Sea, and is living. I know very well that the violence of the love,
which I was in for her beauty, hath made me commit one against her, which seems to make
me unworthy of her affection; but the tears which I have shed for her loss, have throughly
defaced that crime. In the mean time, O pitiless Enemy! whil'st I sigh for her death, whil'st
I shed tears, and consume my self with grief, the happy Mustapha laughs at my tears and
sighs, becomes my Rival, or to say better, mine Enemy, and the Enemy of mine Empire, in
retaining a person whom I loved, or to regard the matter with another face, in retaining the
daughter of mine Enemy; in making secret Treaties with him, and in desiring without doubt
to pull me out of my Throne, for to place you and himself there. For to think, that Mustapha hath not understood from you by what adventure you suffered shipwrack, is that which I will never be perswaded to. To beleeve, that he hath treated this marriage without intending to deprive me of my Crown, is very improbable. I have such proofs of it, as cannot be
destroyed, and nothing can make me beleeve the contrary.
Yet I, my Lord, must undertake to do it, said the generous Axiamira,to whom he had still
spoken in her own Tongue, and with a discourse, wherein the very truth shall appear, make
thee know, that Mustapha is not culpable, that Sarraida is innocent, and that this maid,
whom thy Highness beholds with so much choller (said she, in speaking of me) merits extream
praise, for exposing her self to the peril, wherein I finde her, onely to save me. In fine, my Lord, I purpose to shew thee, that if this tempest, which I see is risen in thy soul, cannot be appeased without falling on the head of some one, it must be upon mine, for that I am the



only cause the troubles of thy mind. But do not believe, that in hearing me acknoledg this innocent crime, I have forgotten thine, or that I am base enough to flatter thee: no, no, I still remember that I am the Sophi's daughter, and that with a usage unworthy of my condition one of thy Slaves carried me away by force. But whereas the preservation of them that I love is dearer to me then mine own, I will not speak to thee in this occasion but of those, in favor of whom Nature speaks to thee as well as I.Rustan, fearing then lest Soliman should be moved with tears and discourse of Axiamira, was so audacious as to interrupt her, and demand of the Sultan, what greater proof he would have against Mustapha, then the supposition he had made him, in bringing him Felixana for Axiamira? but he would be sure, out of the design he had to undo that deplorable Prince, not to speak a word, how he knew, at the taking of Axiamira, that Gianger alone was in love with her. This discourse of his repossessed Soliman's mind with anger, so that notwithstanding Sarraida's tears, notwithstanding any reasons Axiamira could alledg, or any supplications she could make, we no longer saw but marks of fury and jealousie in the eyes of Soliman. He commanded guards to be set upon us, without permitting Axiamira to undertake the justification of Mustapha;
and expresly forbad that any body should speak with
us. Rustan came himself to see this Order observed: but when we went out of the Grand
Signior's Tent, to go to that whither they were conducting us, we encountred Gianger, whom
the Capigis had not suffered to enter at such time as we were carried in. This Prince, seeing
us all in tears, approached to Axiamira; Well then. Madam, said he unto her, what, am I to
resolve of my life, have you been ill-intreated, and Mustapha he convicted of my crimes?
Is it to the Serraglio, or to prison, that they are leading you? In fine, acquaint me with your
destiny, and that of my dear broeher, to the end I may regulate mine by yours, and that thereupon I may form my designs, and take my resolutions. Rustan, who would not suffer this
conversation, neither would incense the spirit of this young Prince, before his intentions were
accomplished, for fear he should be carried to some violence, answered him, that Soliman's
anger would be appeased, that patience would overcome him; and lest he should be offended
if he came to know it, that it was fit he should forbear speaking to Axiamira, because he had
expresly forbidden it, and that without exception. I am undone, replyed Gianger, love or
choller hath been the cause of this Command, and howsoever it be, I am equally unhappy.
Comfort your self, said the Princess to him, and be sure that Axiamira will never do any thing
unworthy of her birth, of her courage, and of the esteem which you have of her: But in the
mean time if it be possible endeavor to assist Prince Mustapha.
Rustan, seeing this conversation continue still, committed the Princesses and me to the custody of them that accompanied him; but Sarraida increated him, that her son might at least
be restored to her; for he would not let Soliman see him for fear he should have been moved
with it: this cruel man granted her this grace, out of the doubt he was in, lest her cries and
lamentations should have caused some tumult amongst the Soldiers if they had heard them. As
for him, he stay'd with Gianger, to whom he said so many things, to pacifie him, and to
make him believe, that the more patient he was, the more submission he shewed, and the more
confidence be put in the goodness of Soliman, the more would he make it appear in this occasion, as any other then Gianger would have been deceived therewith. But he, who knew the
cunning of this Traytor, had not followed his counsels, if the vertuous and prudent
Achmat came to them at that very time, had not counselled him the same thing, though it was with a
very different intention. He promised him to go to Soliman, for to endeavor the appeasing
of his fury; and intreated him that in the mean time he would repair to his Tent, without
permitting any body to see him; as well because he was come to the Camp without the Emperors order, as for fear left some violent spirit should make him alter his resolution, assuring
him that after he had been with the Sultan, he would come and give him an accompt of what
he had done. Gianger would fain have spoken with his vertuous friend in private, to have discovered unto him his love, and his brothers innocence, but it was impossible for him. Not
being able to do otherwise then, he went to Achmat's Tent, there to attend his return, with a
great deal of grief and impatience. He saw his brother accused and in danger for the love of
him, his sister in law in prison, and his Mistress in the hands of his father and his Rival, and of
a Prince that was both the Lover and the Enemy of Axiamira. Hc equally feared the hatred
and the love of Soliman, and there was not any of all the passions, of whose effects he was not




afraid in this grievous encounter. As indeed they reigned one after another in the soul of Soliman; and never was the heart of a man tormented with such strange incertainty, as good Achmat told us afterwards. Fatherly love inspired him sometimes with clemency and pity,
then suddenly the love of Axiamira, accompanied with jealousie, brought fury, hatred, anger,
and cruelty into his heart. When he regarded Mustapha as his son, he sought to excuse him;
but as soon as he considered him as his Rival, he resolved he should perish: Reason of State
furnished him with means for that, he saw him black all over with crimes; he had a secret
commerce with the Enemies of the Empire; he had treated with Tachmas about his marriage; he had retained his daughter in his hands; and for a last fault, he had been so daring as
to put a counterfeit upon him. All these things nevertheless, though very strong against Mustapha, since he believed them to be all true, could not have lost him for all that, without Rustan's wicked counsel.
The generous Achmat did his uttermost endeavor to oppose it; he represented to Soliman
the affection which he had always born to that Prince; the brave things he had done; the
rare qualities that were in him; the little likelyhood there was, that he would blemish so fair
a life with so detestable a Treason; that assuredly there was something concealed in this affair
which could not be comprehended; that at the least it was to be well examined, and not condemn the lawful Successor of the Empire without hearing his Excuses or Reasons; that he
should be obliged to condemn himself by the acknowledgment of his crime; and that far from
judging him, without hearing his Justifications, he held that it stood with the greatness and
goodness of his Highness, suppose he were guilty, to pardon him his fault, so as he contessed it
with repentance; and in fine, that in remembring he was a King, he should not forget he was
a father. It was with such like Reasons, that Achmat sought to move the heart of Soliman:
but the Traytor Rustan, without giving the Grand Signior leasure to answer, drew venom
out of all these fair flowers, and undid the infortunate Mustapha with the same Reasons
wherewith Achmat had defended him. He answered him, that the more Soliman had loved
him, the more ingrateful he was in betraying him; that the brave things he had done, were
not so much for the good of the Empire, as for the ruine of it, since he did not make use of the
reputation he had gotten, and of the rare qualities which were in him, but to subborn the
Commanders and Soldiers, and prepare them for a Revolt, when need should require, as Soliman had been well advertised of it a good while before; that moreover, Mustapha did not
believe he should stain his reputation, in going about to set the Crown on his own head, without staying till the death ofthe Emperor should give it him lawfully, seeing there were domestical Examples of such like things in the Othoman Family, which seemed to authorize it; that
the lives of Kings and Fathers had not always been sacred and inviolable to their ambitious
children: whereby this wicked man denoted, without naming him, cruel Selim, the father of
Soliman, who had made away his; to the end, that an example so fresh and sensible might
make the more impression in his Soul, and might give him a stronger and juster fear of his
son; that this affair was no way intricate to them who had nothing else in reommendation
but the Sultan's interest; that the knowledg of the matter being so certain, Soliman was
not to expose himself to the hazard of being vanquished by the motions of Nature in seeing his
son for fear of being vanquished a second time by him in a more dangerous manner; that it
was not necessary Mustapha should condemn himself by his own confession, since the Laws
condemned him; that clemency indeed was a great vertue but less needful then justice; that it was never to be made use of but towards the weak, and the other to be always excercised
against the mighty; that in the estate wherein things were, Mustapha could not be saved
without putting the Empire in danger; that he would forget the grace which had been
done him, and would ever remember the wrongs which he would think he had received;
that having acted before out of love and ambition, he would act thence-forward out of love,
ambition, hatred, and revenge; that in fine, there was no other choyce, but either to save
Mustapha and lose Soliman, or lose Mustapha and save Soliman, which according to his
sence was the juster; that the Sultan had other sons to fill up the place of Mustapha, but
that there was none that could well fill up the place of Soliman if he were lost. Achmas rendered not himself to so pressing a discourse; and though the maintaining of Mustapha's cause,
after that which Rustan said, was almost to declare himself culpable, yet he did not with earnestness, albeit to no purpose: For jealousie troubling the Judgment of Soliman, and stifling





all the motions which Nature and Vertue inspired him with, believing withall that his son was
absolutely guilty, fury transported him in such sort, as approaching to Rustan, and speaking
softly to him, he pronounced the deadly and bloody sentence against the deplorable Prince, and
gave him order to go and see it executed.
I leave you to judg, my Lord, whether this wicked man gave Soliman any leasure to repent
him of so cruel and unjust a Commandment? or whether contrarily, he posted not with an
extream precipitation to obey him? Achmat perceived well by his countenance that the order which he had received was not displeasing to him, but he did not suspect, that the matter
would have gone so hastily on: so that albeit he was in some unquietness at this proceeding,
yet desired he to make profit of his absence, and stay by Soliman. He no sooner saw himself alone with him, but he undertook the defence of Mustapha again, when as Soliman in choller charged him to speak no more of him. Whereupon Achmat would have retired, but the Sultan commanded him to stay, and fell a walking, sometimes very fast, sometimes more
leasurely; one while he stood looking on Achmat, without saying any thing unto him; by
and by he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, then suddenly turned them down to the ground; at last,
after so violent an agitation both of body and mind, he leaned on Achmat, and beholding
him with more marks of grief then of anger, Must I, said he unto him, after I have lived until
now, exempted from all the crimes of my Predecessors, be constrained by Mustapha to lay a
stain upon my life? and must it be said of me, that I have dipt my hands in the blood of my
son? Achmat, surprized with this discourse, and willing to make use of so good a motion,
cast himself at his feet, and said so much unto him, that (neither his Reasons, nor the good
nature of this Prince, being any longer combated by the malice of Rustan) he told him with
tears in his eyes, that he feared he had been but two well obeyed, and that his repentance came
but too late. And then after he had confessed unto him the Order he had given Rustan, he commanded him to go with all speed to revoke it. But, my Lord, there was no more time for it,
because as soon as Rustan had gotten permission to exercise his cruelty, the wicked man had
taken four Mutes along with him, having each of them a Bow-string in his hand, for in that
manner it is, as you know, that the children of the Royal Family are here put to death, and
carried them to the Tent of Mustapha, from whom at the first they had required his Scymitar,
which he had given them without resistance. This Tyger staying without the Tent with
them that had accompanied him, as well to keep any body from entring, as to hear what this
miserable Prince would say in breathing out his last, his Execucioners began to attempt the accomplishing of their charge.
When Mustapha first saw these four Mutes enter, he made no doubt but he was lost; yet
being strong and courageous, he could not resolve to suffer himself to be strangled without
some defence. The first that would have put the string about his neck, he layd at his feet,
the like he did to the second; and having put himself in a posture that he could not be seized
upon behind, he not a little troubled his Executioners. He had already taken three of their
sirings from them, and it may be he might have defended himself so long, till Achmat might
have arrived soon enough, had not the Traytor Rustan put his head into the Tent, and by signs
threatened the Mutes to do their duty. Mustapha, hearing this voyce, and knowing it, left
his Executioners to go to Rustan; which was the cause that those four men falling all upon
him, overthrew him the more easily to the ground, and put the string about his neck. This
deplorable Prince had the leasure yet to say in strugling with them (as some of them who accompanied Rustan have reported) Do so much at leastwise, thou cruel man, that I may be the
only sacrifice to appease the rage of Roxelana; and that my death may obtain the lives of
Gianger, Sarraida and Axiamira of Soliman. With these last words, which interceded for
anothers life, Mustapha lost his own; and in his person dyed one of the greatest and most excellent Princes ofthe World. The people have bruted abroad, how by a communication that
was there, from Soliman's Tent to Mustapha's, that Prince had the cruelty to excite the
Mutes to strangle his son; but very far from that, Achmat arrived within a moment after
Mustapha expired, who, as I have told you, came to change the fatal Order, which Rustan
had but two well execuced. This Prince was no sooner dead, but Rustan, as if some glory would have redounded to him by so barbarous an act, went to render Soliman an accompt of
it, without knowing ought of the alteration of his mind; for Achmat had been so surprized
and afflicted to find this Prince, to whom he was bringing life, already dead, as he had not said




any thing to him of a matter, which could then serve to no purpose.
This first motion of sorrow being over, the vertuous Achmat believed that he owed the
conservation of Gianger to the memory of Mustapha; he went then with speed to him, for
fear left being acquainted with this lamentable news by another, he should take some strange
resolution. In the mean time the report of this death being spread over the Camp, all the Janizaries came flocking to Mustapha's Tent, where finding him dead, they rendered him all
the testimonies of grief, which affectionate Soldiers could render to their General. All the
Commanders did the like; there were nothing but cries and lamentations; some threw
themselves upon his body, and embracing him wet him with their tears; others said aloud
that they must revenge his death, teer out Rustan's heart, remove Soliman from his Throne,
go and burn Roxelana in her Serraglio, and declare Mustapha's son Emperor, though he was
but a child. Some again, less violent and seditious, threw down their arms, made a vow never
to bear any, and having thereof framed as it were a Trophy, which they erected to the vertue
of this Prince, they layd his body upon it, and abode round about it weeping the loss they had
sustained. Never was there a more general consternation seen; all the Soldiers continued four
and twenty hours without eating: and if the prudence of Achmat had not shewed it self in this
occasion, Soliman's Throne had been overturned, and his person in danger.  As for us, we
heard indeed a great noise, but it was impossible for us to comprehend what it might be; and
they whom Rustan had left to guard us were so faithful unto him, as they would not clear it
unto us.  We imagined with our selves, that peradventure Prince Gianger, having made one
part ofthe Soldiers to rise, endeavored to deliver Mustapha, to the end be might come afterwards and deliver us also; and in this estate we were between fear and hope. In the mean
while Rustan was gone back to Soliman, who seeing him enter alone, demanded of him what
Mustapha said of his clemency. My Lord, answered he mightily surprised, Mustapha is no
longer in a condition ever to say any thing to thy Highness that may displease thee. Ah! infortunate that I am, and most base as thou art, continued Soliman, how readily hast thou obeyed me in a wicked action? He asked him then whether he had not seen Achmat; and having
understood that he arrived not till after the death of the Prince, he shewed such excessive grief,
as the like was never seen. Rustan amazed at so sudden a change, would have represented
unto him, how much this death assured the quiet of his Empire; but the Sultan, exceedingly
moved with choller, chased him from his presence, and forbad him for ever appearing before
him again.
In the mean time Soliman not knowing whom to make his moan to about his crime and
his misfortune, commanded Achmat to be sent for again to him. He was sought for, and
found with Prince Gianger, much busied in moderating the violence of his grief, tor he had acquainced him with the death of his brother. These two Princes had always loved so dearly
together, as never was there a more perfect and dis-interested amity then theirs; so that it is
easie to imagine the despair Gianger was in, when he knew not only that his brother was dead
of a violent death; but that which touched his heart more nearly, that he dyed for his sake,
without being culpable of any thing, but of too much loving him. Ah! my Lord, that I could
repeat vnto you all that this afflicted Prince said in so lamentable an adventure! but you will
see but two well the resentment he had of it, by one only action of his, without my insisting on
the relation of his discourse unto you.             ..
Felixana, observing that Axiamira and Ibrahim had their checks all bedewed with
tears, as well as she, told them, that it was not time yet to shed them all; for, Madam, said
she to the Princess, you know that I have that still resting to deliver, which is not unworthy
of your sorrow, and which without doubt will possess this illustrious Bassa with pity and grief. Whereupon she held her peace to wipe her eyes, and to give them leasure also to
do as much; and when her sighs and theirs had had all the liberty could be required for them,
and that a sad and heavy silence had renewed their attention, she proceeded in this sort.
Achmat having received the Sultan's command for his repair to him, thought it was fit for
him to obey: He left Prince Gianger then in the guard of five or six of his followers, with
order carefully to observe him, and not to leave him out of their sight. In going from his
Tent to the Grand Signior's he discerned the beginning of a Tumult amongst the Soldiers, he
heard not onely their lamentations and their cries, but also the propositions which they made,
against Rustan, and even against the Emperor himself: So that being come to him, and





perceiving by his tears and discourse his true repentance for his violences, he represented unto him, how it was requisite for his safety, and for the good of the Empire, that he should shew unto all his Soldiers the sorrow he was in for the death of Mustapha; That he could not do it better, then in taking care to preserve that which had been fear to him in his life-time; to which effect he was to give a place of retreat to Sarraida, have a good regard of Axiamira, and labor to appease the grief of Gianger, who was come with them to the Camp, and whose affliction as so great, as it was capable of putting him into despair.
Soliman not knowing what to do in this occasion, retained Achmat with him, and send to offer Gianger, by the Aga of the Janizaries, all Mustapha's Governments. But this excellent Prince, abhorring the enriching of himself with the spoyls of a brother, who was dead
for the love of him, generously refused them: demanding no other portion of Soliman, said
he then the same string, wherewith his brother was strangled. At the same instant the
Sultan was advertised, how the Soldiers, who knew not that Sarraida was in Rustan's
Tent thrust on by the fury that mastered them, were going to set it on fire. So that to hinder this mischief, Soliman sent Achmat to let the Soldiers understand, how Sarraida was
in that Tent, and that in seeking to revenge Mustapha, they were upon the point of burning
his wife and his son. But to take from them an object, which might exasperate their grief,
Achmat held it convenient, not to leave Axiamira, Sarraida, or Mustapha's son any longer
in the Camp; so that having drawn Soliman to like of it, and kept the Soldiers from offering any violence to the place where we were, he came to Axiamira to assure her from Soliman, that she should be entreated by him with the respect which was due to her condition;
and that in attending till they might advise what was fit to be done therein, he desired her she
would be pleased to suffer her self to be conducted to Constantinople. As for Sarraida, he
told her with tears in his eyes, that the Grand Signior permitted her to chuse a retreat, in
what piece of his Empire she would; assuring her, that he would have as much care of protecting her, as he had had violence in the person of Mustapha. Sarraida no longer doubting of the death of her dear husband after this discourse, and Axiamira being but too well
assured of it as well as she, they both of them said things, that were stronger then the constancy of Achmat. He wept with these two great Princesses, and recounting to them the matter
as it had past, excusing Soliman as much as he could, he made them comprehend that Rustan
was the cause of all this mischief.
In the mean time Axiamira, in the midst of her affliction, demanded news of Gianger;
and after she had been assured that he lived, and that the Grand Signior had none but good
thoughts for him, she craved pardon of the infortunate Sarraida for having been the cause
of her miseries; and made this discourse with so much tenderness and grief, as Sarraida
her self was moved with her resentment. Mustapha's son yet further augmented the Princesses displeasure; for albeit this childe had not attained to the tenth year of his age, he seemed to be so afflicted for the loss of his father, and said such generous and reasonable things,
as it might be said, that he would have as much resembled him in the qualities of the minde,
as in the features of the face, if Fortune had permitted him to live. He assured Sarraida,
that he would one day revenge the death of his father; he grieved that he had not so much
strength as courage, and that he could give her nothing but tears in this occasion.
I should never have done, my Lord, if I should repeat all this conversation unto you: but
in the end Achmat having assured Axiamira, that it was not to the Serraglio they would
conduct her, and having made her apprehend, that she would be better at Constantinople,
then in the Camp; he also caused Sarraida to promise, that she would conserve her self for
her son. So that being resolved for that which they could not avoyd, the Princesses consented to their voyage, and Sarraida chose the Town of Prusa for her retreat, not enduring to
return unto Amasia. Achmat commanded charets to be brought, appointed men for their
convoy, and offering his assistance to the two Princesses, Axiamira earnestly requested him
to have a care of Prince Gianger, and to assure him, that she esteemed her self infinitely unhappy in being the cause of his misfortunes. After this, Sarraida and she bid one another
adieu, or to lay better, they onely mingled their tears together, and with that dumb and
sad language took their eternal farewel. Sarraida was put into her charet almost in a swoon,
and Axiamira entred into that which was prepared for her, so besides her self, as I beleeved she would have dyed in my arms.In the mean space the preparation for our departure had not been made so secretly, but that the bruit thereof was spread over the Camp: and whereas news do change the further
they go from him that first delivers them, it was noised amongst the most part of the Soldiers, That they were conducting Axiamira to the Serraglio; that Soliman purposed to repudiate Roxelana, and declare the Princess Sultana Queen. In this belief they testified so
much joy, by reason of the hatred they bare to Roxelana, as being an Enemy to Mustapha,
that though she was the mother of Gianger, yet knowing how dearly he 
loved his brother, some amongst them went inconsiderately to declare this false and deadly news unto him.
He no sooner heard it, but he beleeved it, and losing the little reason he had resting,
out like a mad man, spight of them whom Achmat had left with him: and without knowing whither he went, he found what he sought for, that is to say, the body of Mustapha,
which could not yet be drawn out of the Soldiers hands, who had layd it, as I have already
told you, upon a great heap of their arms.  As soon as Gianger approached to it, they made
way for him to pass through them; and redoubling their cries and lamentations, some of them
offered him to revenge this death, and all of them together protested that they would have the
same affection for him they had had for his brother. But he, without harkening to their complaints, their offers, or their prayers, throws himself upon his brothers body, wets him
with his tears, then looking round about him, as it were to seek for something, he espyed a
dagger amidst that great number of arms, which he layd hold on; and then lifting up his
voyce, with a more quiet countenance then before, Let some of you, O Soldiers (said he) if
the memory of Mustapha be dear unto you, declare unto Soliman, that in giving my brother
his death, he hath put this steel into my hand; and let the Princess of Persia know also, that I
did not dye till I had lost the hope of possessing her: saying this, he stab'd the dagger into
his heart, no body being able to prevent him, and fell down dead upon the body of his brother.
Alass! my Lord, I know this truth but too well; for by ill fortune, the charet wherein we were passed so neer to that place, as I saw Gianger when as he stab'd himself. This
sight, and this action then made me give a great skriek.  Is there (said the Princess unto me,
who did not look that way) some more new misfortune befallen us? Ah! Madam, said I
unto her, the greatest that can happen to you in the estate wherein you are. We heard a
redoubling then of the wailings, lamentations, and cries of the Soldiers, who making the name
of Gianger to resound all about, said so much of his death, as they had acquainted her but
too well what this misfortune was, without putting me to the trouble of telling it her. She
commanded the charet, wherein we were, to stand still; but the confusion was so great, and
the noise so dreadful, as her Order could not be heard; besides, they that conducted us, took
such care to get us speedily out of the Camp, as I beleeve if they had heard what she said,
they would not have obeyed her; so that we went away in this manner, without more particularly knowing the death of this miserable Prince: having not learnt all that I have recounted unto you, and all that I shall tell you hereafter, till we came hither, where the generous
Achmat imparted it unto us.
It is easie, my Lord, to comprehend, what the grief of Axiamira was; That great and
generous Soul, which never fainted under her own misfortunes, found it self then too weak,
to support those of another. For though love had no place in her heart, amity, compassion,
and the obligations wherein she stood engaged to Prince Gianger, produced the same effects
in her upon this occasion. What said she not to testifie her affliction! or to say better, what
did she not that she might not survive this last miship! she absolutely declined the care of her
preservation, she refused to eat, and I dare say, she would never have resolved to live, if
with my tears and prayers I had not conjured her not to leave me in the hands of a Prince,
which might entreat me as one culpable. It was not because I was possest with that fear;
but seeing this Princess no way sensible of her own conservation, I beleeved, that the same
generosity, which made her despise her life, to lament anothers misfortune, would induce her
to preserve it for the easing of mine. As indeed, after that she suffered me to take a care of
her, and without abandoning her grief, she resolved to attend death, and not to seek it.
We in this sort arrived at this place where we are; and where afterwards we understood,
that Gianger had no sooner stabbed himself to the heart with a dagger, but the Soldiers affliction, anger, and fury redoubled far more. They which had thrown down their Arms too
them up again, maugre the vow which they had made, and testified by their threats, that





they had strange designs. It seemed to them that they had a second time lost Mustapha in
the person of Gianger, for the love of these two Princes was so generally known, as they
regarded him as another himself. This tragique news was instantly carryed to the Sultan,
who received it with so much grief, as the abundance of tears which he shed in that occasion
hath almost defaced his crime; and if Achmat had not provided for his conservation, he
would peradventure have let the Soldiers gone on in their fury without applying any remedy
unto it. But whereas he was faithful unto him, and had no less prudence then affection, he
counselled him not to conceal his tears, to shew himself to the Janizaries, and with his presence to calm a storm, which certainly had caused some strange disorder, if this wise servant
had not dissipated it. For the matter went so far, notwithstanding Achmat's providence,
that the Soldiers, who would revenge the death of Mustapha and Gianger, seeing one part of their companions content themselves with weeping, and not take up Arms against their Soveraign as they did, assaulted them with such violence, as the others being constrained to defend themselves, there was so terrible a confusion in this fight, that the two parties could not
be distinguished; and with an enraged fury they killed one another, not knowing wherefore. Already some of them were preparing to go to the Grand Signior's Tent, when as he
caused it to be published over all the Camp, that he deprived Rustan of all his Commands,
and gave them to the generous Achmat. This Declaration suspended the fury of the Soldiers, who notwithstanding their despair and rage, soon quitted their Arms, to go and gather up
the money which was thrown amongst them; Achmat having caused this largess to be given
them from the Grand Signior, as it were for a recompence of the zeal they had shewed to the
Princes. This present liberality made them forget that of Mustapha and the very same Soldiers,
who would have carryed fire even to the Emperors Tent, cryed, Long live the Sultan, a quarter of an hour after, when as in person he made a turn about the Camp. He commanded the bodies of the two Princes to be put into one Coffin, and the same being placed in a Charet covered
with black velvet, he ordained them to be carried to Constantinople, and laid in the same tomb,
which he had prepar'd for himself neer to the Mosque he had built. He willed also that the said
Charet should be attended upon by half of his Army, and that this funeral pomp should be celebrated with the same magnificence, as is it had been of an Emperor that had dyed in the Wars.
As for himself, he had a purpose to have gone to Mecqua to expiate his fault, and to pray unto God and the holy Prophet for the Souls ofthe Princes: but the affairs of Persia pressing him,
he contented himself with going to Ierusalem, where he gave so many testimonies of his repentance and grief, as it was easie to know, that this Prince had not acted by his own inclinations.But, my Lord, whil'st Soliman gives marks of the sorrow he is in for his violence, Roxelana repents her not of her wickedness, and far from having so good a motion, she thinks of new
cruelties. I have told you, if my memory fail not, how Rustan was chased from Solimans Tent,
but I have not told you what became of him afterwards: You must understand then, how having executed that which Roxelana had so ardently desired, he thought it was not fit for him
to expose himself inconsideratly, and that having nothing more to do there for the service of the
Sultana, he might go and render her an account of his doings. He parted immediately then as
secretly as possibly he could; but he stayd nevertheless at the first Town he came to, where one
of his servants, whom he had given in charge about it, came and acquainted him with all that
had been done in the Camp; I mean,the revolt ofthe Soldiers, the death of Gianger, Soliman's
extream repentance, the retreat which Sarraida had chosen, and briefly all that had past there.
This cruel man, fully informed of all things, went with all speed to Roxelana, and as he related it
himself, as Achmat hath told us, although she was acquainted both at one time with the death
of Gianger, and that of Mustapha, yet the loss of this last comforted her for that other, albeit he was her own son. There remained an unquietness yet in her minde, the blood of
Mustapha had not fully satisfied her rage; she would also have the life of his son, to the end
the race of him might be utterly abolished. So that to content this horrible desire, she told
Rustan, that knowing the power she had over the spirit of Soliman, he might beleeve that
she would appease his anger, and that it would be easie for her to re-establish him in his commands; but he must first deal in such sort, as the race of Mustapha might be quite extinguished in the person of his son. Rustan, who never found any thing difficult, when it concerned the committing of crimes, not onely promised it to her, but executed it.Scarcely had Sarraida been two months at Prusa, scarcely had she had leasure to dry up her
first tears, when as the Traytor Rustan gave her a new cause of weeping. He went diguised




to the parts about Prusa, and from thence sent to Sarraida one of the ministers of his fury,
who was his Slave, and who made shew that he was come to this excellent Princess from the
Grand Signior, to assure her of the continuance of his good-will and protection. He also
brought presents to her son, as being gages of the Sultan's affection. He told her further
that his Highness would make Mustapha revive in the person of this young Prince; and that
he commanded her to have a great care of his health and education. This infortunate mother
who knew by the publique voyce how much Soliman seemed to repent him of his violence,
suffered her self to be perswaded that all which this wicked man said was true. In the mean
time he thinks of executing his design any way whatsoever; and seeing it was hard for him
to remove this young Prince from Sarraida, either to finde means to poyson him, or to do
any violence in a Town, where the memory of Mustapha was in so much veneration, he bethought him to perswade Sarraida that she would accustom her self to take the ayr, for fear
lest keeping always in that sort within doors, her melancholly should pass unto her son, and so
prove prejudicial to his health. After he had gotten this Princess to yeeld unto that which he desired, he propounded to her a thing, which, very much agreeing with her sad and heavy humor, seemed to be a very fit and pleasing entertainment for her; which was to go and see the
Grand Signior's Tombs, that were four or five miles distant from this Town, and whose
stately Mosques are to this day very carefully maintained. Now, my Lord, that which induced this Traytor to give Sarraida this counsel, was, that having suborned him, who was to
drive her Charet, he had broken the axletree of it, not quite through, but in such a manner,
as he foresaw how upon their arrival at a very difficult passage, which was just in the midst
of the way, that which he expected would assuredly come to pass, as indeed the matter succeeded accordingly. In helping the Princess into her Charet, he perswaded the young Prince
to go with him on horseback, who, according to the custom of children, was ravished with
this proposition. Sarraida, out of a thought of tenderness, or it may be out of an instinct
that advertised her of her misfortune, opposed it as much as she could; but seeing her son
afflicted at it, and that this man promised her to hold him in his arms, and to have a great care
of him, she consented to it. She was no sooner out of the Town, but this Traytor who carryed the young Prince, began to goe before, and by little and little going farther from the
Charet, as if he had not done it of purpose, Sarraida lost the sight of him.
This infortunate Princess seeing her son no longer, began to fear without knowing wherefore, whereupon she commanded her Charet-man drive as sast as he could, but whereas
he was suborned, he obeyed not at first, howbeit she threatened him in such anger, as he was
constrained to do what she would have him; but this speed was that which retarded her design the more; for the axletree (as I have told you) being half broken, and the Charet going
violently on, it broke sooner then otherwise it would have done. Sarraida, beholding it
overturned, and no longer seeing her son, never consulted on that which she was to do; so that
abandoning her Charet, and walking on foot, followed by two women that accompanied her,
she continued in the way which she had taken, with a trembling of her heart, and an extream
grief. And whereas she was carryed by affection, she went so fast, as but one of her women
could follow her. She arrived then neer to the Grand Signior's Tombs, but alass! what
was the object which she encountred there? she beheld her son strangled, still warm, panting, and almost in the last pangs of death. This deadly spectacle touched her in so strange a
manner, as she fell down as it were dead upon the body of her son.
In the mean time he that had driven Sarraida's Charet, being returned to the Town, and
the remorse of his crime making him to answer those from the purpose which demanded of
him where the Princess was, a great part of the Town, men and women, went themselves to
learn some news of her, so much was this vertuous Prmeess beloved in that place. They
found her still in a swoon, neither the woman that served her, nor another that was come thither by chance, and had seen the death of Mustapha's son having been able to bring her
self again. The care which they altogether took about her, got her to open her eyes, and so
far to recover the use of reason, as to understand from the woman, which she found there,
with what constancy that young Prince had resolved to dye. She recounted unto her, how
going to Prusa, and feeling her self weary, she had rested her self in one of the Niches of the
Mosque, and that being fallen asleep there, she was wakened with a noise that an horse made;
that she had seen a man holding this young child in his arms, who as soon as he was alighted




had shewed him a Bow-string, and had told him that he had a Command from the Grand Signior to put him to death; that upon this discourse the child was no whit daunted, and said,
that it was not Soliman, but Heaven that would have it so, and that therefore there was nothing more resting for him but to obey, and yield his neck to him as he had done with a marvellous constancy; that for her part, she had done what she could to hinder so horrible a fact,
but it was impossible for her; that as soon as the child was dead, his Executioner got to horse,
and fled away withall speed; that afterwards she could not find in her heart to abandon this
poor infortunate child, for fear lest some wilde beast should devour him. Sarraida, having
heard this woman, first lift up her eyes to Heaven, then casting them down on the body of
her son, she suddenly closed them up, without shedding so much as a tear, grief suffocated her
in such sort, as all that she could say was, Mustapha is dead, and his son is no longer living, let
us follow them then wiilingly, since there is nothing left for us to lose. After this she never
spake more, but dyed in the same place where her son had yielded up the ghost: so that they
were both carried back to Prusa, where this accident caused so general a mourning,and touched every one so sensibly, as there was not any testimony of affection, or mark of honor, which
they of this Town did not render to the Corps of Sarraida and her son, which of their own
authority they layd in the Sepulchres of the ancient Emperors, a thing without example. The
chiefest amongst them went in all haste to pursue the Murtherer of this young Prince, but he
was already gotten far enough off with Rustan, who no sooner understood that his Commandment was executed, but away he posted to carry Roxelana the news of it, who received it
with unspeakable joy.
Now whereas the Sultan was to arrive within two days, she counselled him to conceal
himself, until she had appeased his displeasure. In the mean time she willed him so to order
the matter, as it might be believed, that the death of Mustapha's son came by the Commandment of Soliman, for fear left he being suspected for it, should draw the peoples hatred upon
him, who would easily be perswaded of that which they were willing should be. As indeed,
the most part were of that opinion, though it were otherwise; for that Slave of Rustan's not
long since confessed it on his death bed. Soliman at his return understanding the death of
Mustapha's son, testified a great deal of sorrow and anger for it; but Roxelana accustomed to
prevail over the spirit of this Prince, with her wiles and tears, told him, that this action it may
be was not too much disadvantageous to the quiet of his Empire, for she had been informed,
that Sarraida, since her being at Prusa, had continually inspired her son with thoughts of
revenge; that all they of that Town, whensoever he passed through the streets, did nothing
but wish him a longer life then his father, to the end he mighe revenge his death, and mount
up to a Throne which appertained unto him; that without doubt some man zealous for his
Highness had undertaken this bold action; and therefore according to her sence the Author of
it was not to be much looked after. This discourse, which should have begot a suspicion in
the mind of Soliman, perswaded him, and was so prevalent with him, as there was no further
enquiry made of this crime, which confirmed the people in the opinion, that it had been committed by his Order. After this, Roxelana did her uttermost endeavor to obtain Rustan's
grace, but she could not possibly do it. In the mean time the vertuous Achmat, having understood more particularly the extream affection, which Prince Mustapha and Prince Gianger
had born to Axiamira, to shew how dear their memory was unto him, had obtained the permission to see her, which he hath done as often as his occasions would suffer him. And it is by
him also that we have understood, how Soliman would not since his return let any body speak
to him of business, being in so deep a melancholy, as Roxelana her self with all her artifices
could not divert him from it.
Behold, my Lord, what hath been the fortune of Mustapha and Gianger, what is the Princesses, and that which she hath commanded me to tell you. It is for you after this, continued
Axiamira, O generous Ibrahim! not only to protect me, as you seem to be willing to do,
but to counsel me also: For in the estate wherein things are, I find my misfortune so great, as
I know not what to desire. To continue a prisoner as I am, keeps my mind in a continual unquietness, not simply for the privation of my liberty, but out of the fear I am in, lest Soliman's
melancholy coming to cease, he should remember that he hath heretofore found something
that was agreeable to him in my picture. To wish I may return into Persia, Deliment will not suffer me, so that not knowing so much as what grace to demand of you, I fear that all





your address, your generosity, and your power, cannot find a remedy to such desperate miseries. It is certain, Madam, answered Ibrahim, that it is hard enough to cure them throughly, but not impossible to ease them. And then he assured her, that if he had not lost his credit with Soliman, he would obtain one thing of that great Prince, which acording to his judgment would cause her to lead a more pleasing life, till Fortune, weary of persecuting her, would permit her to return into Persia. The Princess, not able to believe a thing wherein she saw so little likelyhood, requested him to tell her by what means he hoped to do that which he said: but our
illustrious Bassa being loth to acquaint her with his design till he was able to execute it, besought her to dispence with him for it, and to give him only two days to make good his word
unto her. That in the mean time she would live assured, that whatsoever he had hitherto done
at the only intreaty of Ulama, he would do it from thence forward, out of the sole consideration of her birth, her vertue, and her merit.
After this discourse they parted, Ibrahim leaving Axiamira and Felixana with some consolation and himself charged with extream grief, to see that this Prince, whom he so dearly
loved, had been so weak, as to suffer himself to be carryed to the greatest cruelty that can be
exercised, he who out of his own inclination was one of the best Princes of the world. This
thought begetting another, the image of others misfortunes so lively represented unto him
his own, that he returned to his Palace with so much heaviness, as is some new occasion of
afflicting himself had arrived unto him, though, to speak rightly of things, he was capable
of no sorrow after that, which he had endured in absenting himself from Isabella.
The Third Book.THe next day Ibrahim went to the Grand Signior, and with a dextrous discourse he gave
him to undcrstand, that he had learned what he durst not tell him. But in imparting this
to him, he let him see also, that he lamented him without accusing him; and carrying him
insensibly to speak of Axiamira, he besought him to grant him one grace which he would
demand of him in favor of her and Felixana. Soliman gave not the Bassa leasure to explain
his desire, but assured him that he might do what he pleased for Axiamira; the repentance
of his fault, and the remembrance of his misfortune, having so absolutely extinguished the
love which he had born her, that if he would even send her back into Persia, although she
was the daughter of his Enemy, and that she might serve for the good of his affairs, yet would
he not refuse to consent unto it. My Lord, answered Ibrahim, I pretend to no other grace
for Axiamira, then to make her change her prison, in obtaining of thy Highness, that she
may be sent to Bitilisa, and that she may be entreated as a person of her birth. And then to
oblige him the more to that which he requested of him, Ibrahim acquainted him with the
interest which Ulama had in Felixana: He made it appear unto him also, that his in this
occasion was annexed to that of Axiamira; that it was requisite he should by his good usage
of her justifie himself to her, for the violence which Rustan had offered her, in carrying her
forcibly away against his Highness will: that she would be in his power as well at Bitilisa, as
at Conslantinople; but that being neerer to ber Country,she would receive the more comfort
by it, and might be even the means of an advantageous peace for his Highness.
After all these reasons, Soliman answered him, that they were needless, since his entreaty
alone sufficed to make him consent to all that he could desire; there being but one onely thing
which he could never obtain of him. The Grand Visier, not daring to be curious in this encouncer, for fear of receiving some distaste by it, contented himself with giving Soliman
thanks, and omitting no time, he went and gave order to have a stately equipage provided
for Axiamira. And whereas he was exact in all things, he used such diligence, as the day
after all was in the state which he desired it to be. 'He went the next morning to theultK
of the seven Towers, where in few words he propounded to the Princess her going to Bitilisa, whereof Ulama was Governor, and where she should have no straiter a prison then
the walls of the Town, nor other guard then his and Ulama's faith. He told her moreover,
how in that place she should finde every one disposed to serve her, and to render her all kinde




of obedience, by the order which he would give for it; that means should be setled on her
to maintain her like a person of her quality; that there she would be far enough from Constantinople, for ever being in fear of Soliman, and neer enough to her Country, to keep correspondence with Prince Mahamed her brother, and to procure it may be a general peace between those two great Empires. That for his part, he promised her, to be always most careful of her interests, and not to suffer any propositions to be accepted, which the Sophi might
happen to make for the drawing her out of Soliman's hands, unless they were such, as she
needed not be longer afraid of the violences of Deliment.
Axiamira, ravished with the generosity and prudence of Ibrahim, rendred him a thousand thanks, and requested him to furnish her with some means, that she might not be altogether ingrateful. You may, Madam, answered he, not only pay me for the services which I intend
to do you, but also make me beholding to you all the days of my life, provided you will suffer your self to be perswaded, that his Highness had never any intention to have the Princess
of Persia be carryed away by force; that he hath not been violent towards Mustapha his
son, but at the instigation of others; that the onely defect of this Prince is onely a facility,
whereof love and his gentle nature are the causes: and that in fine, he hath so many rare qualities, as he is not unworthy the esteem of the incomparable Axiamira. The affection which
you bear to this Prince, replyed she, justifies, if not all that he hath done, at least-wise all
his intentions. And though he be in some sort the cause of the greatest part of my miseries,
yet I promise you, O generous Ibrahim, to give credit rather to your words, then to mine own
experience; and never to speak of this Prince, but as you speak of him your self. I will
complain of Fortune, without murmuring against Soliman; and albeit I am resolved to weep
all my life-time for the loss of those two illustrious children of his, yet will I not accuse any
for it but the cruel Roxelana, and the perfidious Rustan. This conversation lasted yet a good
while longer, and was spent in civility on either part. Felixana in her particular gave Ibrahim a world of thanks, and assured him she would render Ulama an exact account of that
which he had done for her, to the end he might help to acknowledg it in publishing it, since
they could never acquire themselves of it other-ways. Presently thereupon, the Grand Visier
took his leave of the Princess, and told her, that she might depart the next morning, if her
health would permit her: As indeed all her equipage was ready accordingly, but with such
magnificence, as if she had been in Persia. This excellent Princess had made her self to be so
beloved of them that guarded her, as they could not see her part without abundance of
tears, though they very much rejoyced for all that to know, that her prison should not be
thence forward so strait. But amongst the rest, Halima was so afflicted at it, as she was not
to be comforted; she gave her two Slaves, who had always waited upon her during her imprisonment; and Axiamira, in recompence thereof, gave her a chain of Diamonds, which
she had still kept in all her misfortunes.
In the mean time Ibrahim had sent away Ulama's Slave, whom he had brought away
from the Castle of the seven Towers the day before, to advertise his Master to repair to Bitilisa, if his strength would permit him, there to receive the Princess. But in case he should
not be able so to do, he dispatched away another man, with a command from the Grand
Signior to all the Governors of those Towns, which were upon the road, whereby she was
to pass, to render her as much honor, as is she had been the Sultana Queen. And the Grand
Visier, to omit nothing that might be for the Princess of Persia's safety, had also commanded five thousand Janiaries to be her convoy, whom she found ready attending for her a
days march from Constantinople. This Princesses journey had as prosperous a success, as
Ibrahim had wished it should. She was received with a great deal of magnificence at all the
places where she passed, and without having any other commodity then that, which the
weariness of so long a way might occasion, she arrived at Bitilisa, whither Ulama, though
very weak of his hurts and sickness, was to come to receive her, and to enjoy the sight of his
dear Felixana. When as he was advertised of their approach to the Town, he went forth
to meet the Princess with half the Garison; the principal inhabitants of Bitilsia received her at the gate, and conducted her to Ulama's Palace, who out of respect had left it to her: so as it seemed that Axiamira was the Governess of Bitilisa, rather then that Bitilisa was the prison of Axiamira. It is easie to imagine what the joy of these three illustrious persons was at this interview; but very hard to express it well, especially that which Ulama felt in find-






ing Felixana again living and faithful, after he had beleeved her to be dead or inconstant.But whil'st Ibrahim asswages other folks sorrows, his love renders him every day more
unhappy. The more he sees Soliman, the less appearance he sees of obtaining his liberty, which
he had resolved to demand of him at his departure from Monaco. This Prince ceased not
dayly telling him, that he had been dead is he had not returned; that he was the soul of his
Empire; that he could not subsist without him; that six months absence of his had been the
cause of more misfortune to him, then he had had in all his life besides; and that in fine not being able to live without him, he must resolve to dye with him. To all these particulars the
illustrious Bassa made no other answer then with low submissions, but by his sighs and silence
he testified sufficiently to the Sultan, that he expressed not all his thought; and that the sight
of his Mistress had rather augmented his love, then diminished his unquietness. Nevertheless, whereas the Grand Signior was desirous to avoyd all occasions that might constrain him
to refuse Ibrahim, he made as though he did not perceive his sadness, but endevored to gain
him absolutely, and divert him from his melancholy, by all the honors, by all the liberalities,
and all the caresses, that a great Prince can confer on a great Minister. But the more the Bassa
saw himself obliged, the more affliction he had: He received the Sultan's presents, as so many new chains, which tyed him unto him; his favors were torments unto him; and though
in his heart he loved this Prince dearly, yet would he not have been loved of him, so certain
it is that love is stronger then amity.
In this deplorable estate lived Ibrahim with an extream constraint; he delt no longer in
affairs as he was wont; he declined the world as much as he could; yea the very sight of Soliman became insupportable to him; and not daring to desire of him the power to return into Italy, out of the opinion he had that he should be denyed, he sought no longer for any
thing but onely solitude. It was not because his grief was the less sensible to him by it, but
it was because he knew, that the liberty to bewail ones self is some kinde of consolation to
an afflicted person. At length, after he had well consulted with himself, he resolved to speak
plainly to the Grand Signior, with an intent if he were refused (as he almost made no doubt
but he should) to abandon himself in such sort to grief, as death would be constrained to
succor him; but he knew not, when he took this resolution, that he could not execute it:
for as often as he went to the Serraglio for that purpose, Soliman with so much address avoyded all manner of discourse that might carry the Bassa to speak to him of Isabella, and
always took such care to let him know the necessity he had of his presence, as the Grand Viser, no longer doubting, but that Soliman would deny him if he demanded his liberty of
him, undertook not to augment his displeasure yet further, by the certainty of an evil, whereof he was already but too well assured. He remained then without speaking, and shutting
up his thoughts in his heart, he grew to be the melancholickest man in the world. He abandoned the care of affairs, and making to himself a prison of his Palace, he went no more abroad, but now and then to go to the Serraglio, and that too very seldom. His presence,
which was wont to charm all Soliman's unquietnesses, now begot nothing but grief in him;
for he saw him so altered, his eyes so sunk into his head, his face so pale, his humor so sad,
and his spirit so troubled, as he could not behold him without extream displeasure, but a displeasure which he held to be so much the more just, as he knew it to be the cause of that of
our illustrious Bassa. He sought nevertheless to deceive himself, by laboring to be perswaded,
that peradventure the alteration which he saw in his dear Ibrahim, was a malady of the body, as well as of the minde; wherefore he consulted with a Jewish Physician, and an Arabian, about him, who, having some time observed the Bassa without his being aware of it,
judged the alteration, which was seen in him, to proceed hom some strange cause, discerning no marks or signs of a known disease in him. His frequent sighs, the indifferency which
he seemed to have for life, and some interrupted words which he had spoken, when as by
Soliman's order they went to visit him, perswaded them, that the melancholy, which appeared in him, was not an effect of his temper, but of some affliction that troubled his mind, and which questionless was derived from some violent passion. After so right and so well-grounded a debate, they told the Grand Signior freely, that they could not warrant Ibrahim's
life; that they were Physicians for the diseases of the body, and not for that of the minde;
that in the estate wherein the Bassa was, he was to be his own Physician himself; though, according to their opinion, he was in terms, rather of being the cause of his death, then of his







health; that for their parts, all they could do with their remedies was to fortifie Nature as much as they could; but at length so long and so violent a melancholy would make an end of him, and so much the rather for that the Bassa, to be rid of them, said, that he was not sick, and consequently had no need of remedies.Soliman hearing this discourse was extraordinarily grieved at it; but he could easily apprehend the occasion of Ibrahim's melancholy. For not seeing any reason that he had to be afflicted, but for the absence of the person whom he loved, he was assured that love was the cause of his heaviness. In this opinion he dismissed his Physicians; howbeit he was no sooner alone, but accusing himself for the loss of Ibrahim, he was almost resolved to go and ask of him what he would have, (without considering how in this occasion, he deprived himself of the onely consulation he had, and of the onely person he could love) when as the Sultana Queen entred into his chamber, according to the priviledg which she had for it. As soon as she looked on him, she knew that he was somewhat troubled in his mind; but whereas she was not able
to discern, whether it were an effect of choller, or of affliction, she employed all her address to be cleared therein. Soliman had no longer that violent love for her
such had so often blinded him, yet had she still that Empire over him, as he could never
refuse her any thing, but the grace of Rustan; so that in this occasion he almost suffered himself to be vanquished by her. He confessed not the whole truth unto her, but he told her,
that Ibrahim's melancholy was the cause of all his sadness; and without imparting to her,
that he was a Christian under the habit of a Turk, or of what Country he was, he told her
further that being fallen passionately in love with a Christian Princess, whom he had seen,
during the voyage which he had made by his order; the grief of being deprived of her presence and of the hope of possessing her, had brought him even to deaths door.  Afterwards,
he declared unto her the sorrow he was in for it, and how he would give half his Empire
to save Ibrahim. My Lord, said the Sultana unto him, if thou wilt accord me one grace,
which I will demand of thee, I will oblige my self to restore thy favorite to his wonted joy.
I swear by Alla, replyed Soliman, to accord any thing, so as Ibrahim may be saved. My
Lord, said she unto him, I will ask of thee but till to morrow to engage my self absolutely
for the performance of that which I have propounded to thy Highness. Although Soliman
saw no great likelyhood in that which the Sultana said, yet he found same content in not resolving so soon to be deprived of Ibrahim.
In the mean season Roxelana, without losing a minutes time, sent Rustan word, who lay
still concealed in Constantinople, to come at the beginning of the night to one of the gates of
the Serraglio, where he should finde two of her black slaves attending for him, and not to fear
repairing thither, because the Capigibassi, that kept the gate, was absolutely hers. Rustan
failed not to be present at this assignation, no more then the Slaves to receive him, and to bring
him in. When he was in her chamber, she told him, that whatsoever she could do, it was
impossible for her to obeain his grace; and that she thought he would never obtain it, but by
some very extraordinary way; that there was one did then present it self, which she would
propose unto him, to the end that if he saw any likelyhood in it, she would finish that which
she had begun; and then she recounted unto him what Soliman had said to her, and what
she had answered. But it appeared that Rustan was better informed of Ibrahim's fortune,
then she imagined; for this man, who thought of nothing but his re-establishment, had
suborned one of the Grand Visiers servants, to endevor to finde out, whether this illustrious
Bassa were the cause that he was not restored. This servant, suborned by Rustan, went often
to him to give him account of that which he learned: and the very same day that Roxelana
had sent for him, he had acquainted him, that Ibrahim was in love with a Princess of Italy,
to whom appertained a Town called Monaco; that the grief for being absent from her had
made him sick, and would cause his death, if the Grand Signior gave him not liberty to return thither to see her; that he had heard all this through Ibrahim's chamber door, who talked thereof in private to an Italian Slave, whom he very much loved, and whom he had commanded, if he dyed for sorrow, as he seemed not to doubt, to obtain permission of the
Grand Signior to go and execute his last Will, in carrying a Letter to the Princess whom he
loved. Rustan having acquainted Roxelana with what he knew concerning Ibrahim, told
her afterwards, that if Soliman would be pleased to let him speak with him, he did not
doubt but to finde a remedy for the grief of his favorite. It is not, said Roxelana interrupting





him, because his death would not be more pleasing to me then his life; but for our interest
we must do all things; disoblige our friends if occasion require; and oblige our enemies when
the service we render them may serve for our designs. We must then, continued she, save
Ibrahim's life at this time to obtain your re-establishment; and then we will proceed in
other manner afterwards, if it be offensive to us. Roxelana then propounded unto him the
demanding of an Army of Soliman to bring away this Princess by force, whose absence
caused Ibrahim's suffering: but Rustan replyed, that as long as one could work by address,
no recourse was to be had to force; that for him, he knew better how to beguile, then to
fight; and in the end, without explaining his design unto her, he promised her to perish,
or to bring this Princess to Constantinople, provided he might be furnished with a man of
war, throughly provided; and might be permitted to say, in the places where he should aboard, tbat he was going to the King of France, in the quality of a Chaoux, from the Grand
Signior. Roxelana, seeing Rustan so resolute for this enterprize, sent him away, and told
him that the next day he should hear from her: as indeed, she delt in such sort with the Grand
Signior, as he promised her the grace of Rustan, if he could perform that which she propounded to him; and this Prince resolved even to endure the sight of him, that he might try
to render his dear Ibrahim happy, without absenting him from him. At first Rustan craved
pardon of him, but when as Soliman pressed him to tell him, which way he hoped to make his
design succeed, wherewith Roxelana had already acquainted him. My Lord,answered he, I do
not think it a harder matter to carry away a Princess of Italy by force, then a Princess of Persia; wherefore let thy Highness be assured, that is that be given me, which the Sultana without doubt hath demanded of thee for me, and that thou wilt make me hope I mayre-enter
into thy favor, Ibrahim shall quickly be the happiest man on the Earch; for wanting nothing
to make him so, but the possession of this Princess, I will bring her to him ere it be long, nothing save death alone being able to keep me from performing it. Soliman had at the begining some aversion to this violence, but coming to consider, that it was the onely way to
retain Ibrahim with him, he forgot all other considerations. So that before he dismissed
Rustan, he was absolutely resolved to accempt the matter, and therefore he assured him that
he should depart within two days: but in the mean time he charged him to entreat the Princess of Monaco, who was she that he was to bring away, with the same respect as he was
obliged to have for the Sultana Queen.
Things being in these terms, the Grand Signior caused all Rustan's equipage to be made
ready, with all the diligence that possibly could be; he furnished him likewise with great
store of mony and jewels, in case he should have need of it; he had also his dispatch, as if
indeed he had been sent to the King of France, in the quality of a Chaoux: and lacking nothing else for his voyage, he set sail in as favorable a season as might be. This happy begining of Navigation gave no false hopes to the Pilot, who made such use of the advantage of the
wind and fair weather, as, his vessel being an excellent sailer, he made this cut with a speed,
the like whereof hath not been heard speak of in all the seas of the Levant. Rustan approaching to Monaco, sent his skiff with one of his servants, and an interpreter, to demand permission of the Princess for his entrance into the Port, there to mend his vessel, which he said
was bruised with the fury of the Sea, and he had caused one mast and some of the tackle thereof to be really broken, to the end, if what he desired were not granted, he might have a
pretext to stay in that place, and so might be able to seek out some means for the executing of
his design. But it happened that the Princess, having been constrained to go to Genoua for
some important reasons, which had obliged her thereunto, was not then at Monaco: so that
he, who commanded in her absence, answered Rustan's messenger, that the Princess at her
departure had given him order, to let no man of war enter inco the Port, as long as she was
not there.                 .
Rustan understanding by the return of his skiff that this Princess was not at Monaco,
seemed at first to be much afflicted at it; but suddenly being of another minde, he thought
on the contrary that it would be advantageous to him, since she being questionless to return
from Genoua to Monaco, it would be easier for him to carry her away at sea, then out of a
Town. He resolved then to go to Genoua, and shew the State his dispatch, to the end he
might be the better received by them, and might make his abode there till the Princess should
depart from thence to Monaco, under colour that he waited for one of his ships, which he




would say was severed from him by a Tempest. The matter being thus resolved, he executed
it accordingly; and taking into the main Sea again, to the end he might be seen to come from
the Levant, he sailed to Genoua, where he was received, not only as the Grand Signior's
Chaoux, as soon as he had shewed his dispatch, but as one sent from a Prince, to whom the
Republique had a great obligation. In the mean time he dextrously enquired after the place
where the Princess of Monaco's Palace was; and having learnt it out, he made one of his
Slaves watch always in the same street to discover, whether any preparations were a making
thereabout for a Voyage. He caused some to observe at the Port, whether any Galley were
ready to set forth, and all to be informed when she went; In conclusion, he omitted nothing
that might serve for his design. He was certain days in this expectation with a great deal of
impatience; but Fortune, that would not yet abandon him, furnished him with a far more
favorable occasion to carry away the Princess, then that which he attended.
One night, when as he was in his Vessel, which notwithstanding the intreaties of the Senate he would never abandon, after he had heard a dreadful noise of armed men, both at the
Port, and in the City, he was advertised by those whom he had sent thither, that all was in
confusion there; that the gates were all open; that the Port was no longer closed; and that
in this disorder, it could not be comprehended who were the enemies. Rustan making profit
of this occasion, and others misfortunes, leaves one part ofhis Souldiers in his Vessel, and followed by the other goes directly to the Princess of Monaco's Palace, sets a Petard to the gate,
blows it up, enters in with his Forces, and conducted to Isabella's lodging by the voyces of
her women, who called all the servants of the house to their succor, he forces it, and finds the
Princess, who first presented her self, beleeving she should meet with people that could understand her language, and be moved with her prayers: But she was much amazed, when she
saw they were Turks; whereupon she gave a great skreek, and stepping three or four paces
back, she would have fled into a Cabinet, but Rustan, who perceived it, retained her, and
put her into the hands of his Soldiers, no way doubting but it was the Princess, as well by
reason of her good aspect, as of the eagerness which all her women and all her servants shewed in opposing her carrying away. Nevertheless fearing he might be mistaken, he caused Emilia, whom he saw to be more richly apparelled then the rest, to be likewise carried away;
for although it was night, yet had all the women of Genoua their clothes on, being risen out
of their beds upon the fearful noise they had heard in the City. And then again it was easie
for them to carry away Emilia, who seeing the Princess born away, did only cry out in the
streets as they went along to oblige some to succor them: As indeed there were those who
knowing her voyce would have withstood this rape, but it was in vain; for Rustan making
use both of the valor of his men, of the disorder of the City, and of the darkness of the night,
caused these two fair afflicted ones to enter into his Vessel, which had been made ready whil'st
he was gone to this Execution; and from thence into Doria's Galley, whereof the Turkish
Slaves had rendered themselves Masters: so that he was no sooner aboard it, but causing them presented to weigh Anchor, he made out of the Port, and shaped his course for Constantinople.
In the mean time Ibrahim still languished, and his grief made him lead so sad and wearisom a life, as the thought of death was the most pleasing to him of any other. Soliman, for his part, was in so extream a melancholy, to see his dear Ibrahim suffer so many miseries for the love of him, and the respect which he shewed to him, in not demanding his liberty of him, redoubled his grief far more: nevertheless, how violent soever it was, the desire he had to retain this illustrious Bassa still with him, was yet more powerful. The hope of Rustan's return did many times diminish his displeasure, but the incertainty thereof permitted him not to be long without unquietness; which augmented much more, when as the Term, which he had imagined in his mind for the execution of this enterprise, was arrived. He beleeved that Rustan had suffered Shipwrack; or that his design had been discovered; or that he had been killed; or at leastwise retained a Prisoner. He saw that the grand Visiers grief abated not; and that the remedy would arrive too late, if the succoring of him was never so little retarded. He had oftentimes a desire to discover Rustan's Voyage unto him; but the fear of aggravating his displeasure, in stead of moderating it, straightway restrained him from it. He knew very well, that Ibrahim could not chuse by rejoyce at the sight of Isabella; but he with reason feared, that he would be infinitely afflicted to know that violence should be offered to the person he




so loved; and that she should be exposed to all the dangers of the Sea. So as all that Soliman
could do was to bewail him, and to go and see him sometimes against the custom of the
Grand Signiors, who seldom visit their subjects. These visits gave no great satisfaction, either to him that received them, or to him that rendred them. Ibrahim's melancholly redoubled by seeing that which Soliman shewed in his countenance; and Soliman's grew the greater by observing in his Ibrahim's face all the signs of an extream grief: Yet would he
for all that constrain himself sometimes; he thanked Soliman for his goodness to him; and assures him that is he could lose his life in serving him, he should dye with some consolation.
Soliman, seeling himself pierced with grief by so kinde a discourse, could not endure the continuance of it, but was constrained to quit him, after he had conjured him to live for his sake.The unquietness and fear which Soliman was in of losing the Grand Visier, took him up
in such sort, as though the affairs of Persia were extream pressing, yet could he not resolve
to frame any design, contenting him onely with giving Ulama order to oppose the Enemy
as much as he could, if he attempted any thing; but not to enterprize ought against him until he had a new order from him. This commandment no whit displeased Ulama; for albeit
he was one of the valiantest men of his age, yet was he very glad that the War did not keep
him from abiding some time with Axiamira and Felixana. The Enemy himself contributed
also to his design; for though he had gotten the advantage in the last occasions, yet was he a
long time without undertaking any thing. That which caused this suspension of Arms was
the news, which was brought to ihe Sophi's Court, how Axiamira and Felixana were in
the hands of Soliman, who retained them prisoners. This last circumstance exceedingly troubled the Sophi andDeliment: they did not wonder, to know certainly that they were not
dead, as all the world had beleeved them to be; nor to understand that they were in Turkie,
because they aforetime suspected that Ulama had carryed them away; but to see him General of the Grand Signior's Army in Ibrahim's absence, and to hear at the same instant that
his Mistress was a Prisoner, was a matter which they could not comprehend. They resolved
nevertheless to endevor to be cleared therein, by the means of those secret intelligences, which
all great Princes have in their neighbors Courts; and in the mean time to make great preparations for war, that they might serve their turns of them according to occasion. Mahamed,
who was acquainted with this news better then they, testified a great deal of joy for it; It
was not because he was not sorry to know that Axiamira and Felixana were in prison, but
having beleeved them to be dead, or in the power of Tachmas and Deliment, he was ravished to understand that they were living, and out of their tyranny; not being able to imagine
that two persons of that importance could be ill entreated in a place, where Ulama was so
powerful. Mahamed was not he alone, who was glad to know that Axiamira was not
dead, for this Princess was so generally beloved throughout that Empire, as this news being
spred amongst the people, every one gave such marks of an unspeakable rejoycing, as if a memorable victory had been obtained over the Enemy. All the women of quality of the City
of Sultania, where Tachmas was resident, when as he received this advice, sent humbly to
beseech him, if there needed a ransom for the redemption of the Princess, that he would be
pleased to let all their jewels serve for a part of it; esteeming themselves more then happy, if
with the loss of their liberty they could buy out the Princesses. This generous mark of affection, which they bore to Axiamira, was not received as it deserved: for the subtle Perca who was mad to see that her sister left not to reign in Persia, though she was a prisoner at Constantinople, perswaded Tachmas, that this extream affection, which the people carryed to the Princess, might cause great mischiefs in the continuance of the war; that the imprisonment of Axiamira was without doubt an artifice to deceive him; that it was without all
likelyhood that Ulama should be in good terms with Soliman, and Felixana be ill entreated; that there was somewhat in it, which was not apprehended; that it was to be feared,
lest whil'st Axiamira seemed to be in prison, she had not some intelligences in in the Country;
that if it were so, and that some one should be so daring as to rise, in the name of Axiamira
might quickly draw the people to her party; and that finally it was fit to let them know
in good time, that this rejoycing was criminal; yea and that Axiamira was to be declared guilty of high treason, for withdrawing her self out of his dominions. She added further to this,
that to extinguish the ardent tove which the people bare the Princess, she was to be taken by
her own interest, in publishing every where, that she was the cause of the war, and consequent-





ly the cause of the ruine of the whole Empire; that she alone had made Ulama revolt; and that she alone had drawn Soliman to take up Arms: so that there needed no ransom to redeem her, but a puissant Army to pluck her out of the Sultan's hand, and make an example of her to posterity. Tachmas, having heard Perca's discourse, told her, that he saw a great deal of probability in that which she said; and that he was resolved to deal after that manner; but that should not keep him from doing what he could to draw home Axiamira and Felixana, by the means of an Embassador; that it was for the dignity of the Empire to proceed in that sort; and for a wise Politician always to lay the blame on the Enemy. Deliment being arrived at the end of this conversation, confirmed Tachmas yet more in his design; having been advertised by a Governor of one of the frontire Towns, that Axiamira was no longer a prisoner at Constantinople; that she had been conducted to Bitilisa with a most magnificant Train; and that she had been received there by Ulama, with all the marks of honor that could have been rendred her in Persia. This last news touched the Sophi sensibly; when he had 
understood that Felixana was a prisoner, he had at least
had the consolation to hope that Ulama should not see her no more then he; but hearing that
she was in a Town, whereof he was Governor, jealousie transported him in such sort, as he
scarcely knew what he said. For Deliment, whereas he could not be jealous, the despight
to see himself contemned, and the rage he was in for that he could not possess Axiamira,
excited as much trouble in his soul, as jealousie did in the Sophi's.
As for the ambitious Perca, the onely desire that she had to reign made her to move; and
that she might rise to that supream greatness, she thought there was but two things wanting
to her; the death of Deliment, and the peoples hatred to Axiamira. For touthing Ismael
and Mahamed, she did not beleeve that the stupidity of the one, and the blindness of the
other would permit them to oppose her. So that to execute her intention, she perswaded
Deliment, that he was at this time to hazard all things; that it was not for his honor, to
know Axiamira was so neer the frontire, and not do his uttermost to draw her out of Ulama's hands: And for Tachmas, she made him do that which by her counsel he had resolved
upon. He said before all his Court, that he took it very ill, such joy should be testified upon
notice had that his daughter was in the power of his Enemy; that the belief of her death had
touched him less, then the news he had received that she lived in that manner; and then he
publiquely declared her guilty of high Treason, aggravating all that Perca had said to him.
But though this Manifest had some appearance of truth, yet found it no credit, either with
the Grandees, or the people. The violences of Deliment, the wickedness of Perca, and
the vertue of Axiamira, were too well known to have the matter succeed, as Tachmas hoped
it would. And the people, on the contrary, seeing so great marks of animosity in a father against his daughter, in a sister against her sister, were ready to rebel, and be carryed to some
strange resolution.
In the mean time Deliment thinks of levying of Troops, and making up so mighty an Army, as, as, vanquisher or vanquished, it should absolutely decide the fortune of this war; being
resolved to dye, or to return with Axiamira. Tachmas on his side, following his resolution,
dispatches an Embassador to the Grand Signior, to demand his daughter, and Felixana of
him; offering two millions for their ransom, though by law he beleeved not himself obliged
to give any thing for two persons, that were not prisoners of war. He sent away divers spies
at the same instant to Bitilisa, to learn what past there; but all of them reported, that the
Princess and Felixana seemed to be absolutely at liberty; that Ulama rendred them all imaginable civilities; and what care soever they took therein, they could not discover for what
reason the Princess had been conducted to Bitilisa; the people saying no other thing, but
that it was beleeved she was come neer unto Persia to make propositions of Peace. A few
days after, a Messenger sent by Axiamira came and brought him a Letter from this Princess,
who not doubting but that the Sophi had heard where she was, thought it was fit for her to
write unto him, to the end she might not be wanting in that duty which she owed him, as
being her father. When he received this Letter, Perca and Deliment were there present,
who would have obliged him not to have read it, for fear left he should have been moved
therewith, but they could not prevail with him; for this Prince, provoked more by curiosity, or the thought that he should finde something in it which regarded Felixana, then by any
kindness, opened it, and reading it aloud, he saw that was thus.
AXIAMIRA's Letter to the SOPHI her FatherMy Lord,IF I had gone out of your Dominions of mine own accord, I should think my self obliged to
ask you pardon for it; but since my flight is a crime of Fortune, and that I have no other
part in it then the suffering of the evils which she hath made me endure; I beleeve that
without charging my self with a fault, which I have not committed, it will suffice that I
most humbly beseech you not to take it ill, if I dare say to you, that I have some consolation
in my misfortunes, to fee that my Prison is a Refuge for me against the violences of Deliment
and that not able to be free with you, I am at leastwise absent from you, without being culpable of it. But, my Lord, I am but too much, in having contrary thoughts to yours; I
know it certainly, and yet whatsoever I do, it is impossible for me to cease from being faulty
in this sort; for methinks Reason makes it appear to me, that I have no aversion for Deliment,
but because he stains your glory, abuses your goodness, thinks of nothing but contenting his
ambition, is an enemy to vertue, dnd in conclusion I wish him no ill but for the love of you.
But, my Lord, I am almost confident, that every word I write is a crime; that in thinking
to excuse my self, I become the more culpable; and that in seeking to justifie my cause, I
sign my condemnation. Permit then that my death or banishment may be the punishment of
this fault, and that I may beseech you to beleeve, that the former would be sweet unto me
if I could hope to be lamented of you; and that the other would be insupportable to me, if
there were not some hope remaining for me, that you will one day consent, that Axiamira may
live with you, and not be constrained to be the wife of Deliment. It is that which is hoped
for, and implored of you.My Lord,
By your most humble, most obedient, and most
faithful Subject, Daughter, and Servant,AXIAMIRA.The reading of this Letter touched the Sophi in a diverse manner; he felt tenderness, confsusion, and anger; and it may be if he had been alone, Nature and Reason had prevailed so
powerfully for Axiamira, as she had carried away the victory from her enemies; but the
counsels of Perca, and the speeches of Deliment, wrought a clean contrary effect in him.
Perca told him, that it was too daring a part in her to be so bold, as to write such things to
him of a man whom he loved; that without doubt Axiamira spake not thus, but because she
was well assured, that whatsoever ransom was offered, she should never be remitted into his
power; that he was to testifie a great deal of resentment for this insolent proceeding, and to
intreat him ill whom the Princess had sent, who questionless was come to Prince Mahamed, or as a Spy, rather then to bring him this Letter, which could not serve Axiamira for ought,
whether she remained in the Grand Signior's Dominions, or whether she returned into his
Empire. Deliment seeing the Sophi sufficiently incensed, took a different way from that
which Perca had held, which yet produced the same effect. He besought the Sophi, with a
false generosity, to permit him to withdraw himself from affairs, and from about him, for the
contenting of Axiamira. But the Sophi, as Deliment had rightly forecast it, forbad him the
further prosecuting of this discourse, his anger redoubling so much the more by this artifice.
And for a conclusion, he called the party before him, who had brought him the Letter from
Axiamira, charged him never to come within his Dominions again, and told him, that if he
had not purposed to have him carry back his Commands, he would have had him severely punished. Then he willed him to say unto her that had sent him (for he would not call her the Princess, his Daughter, or Axiamira) that he had no other answer to make her, but that if the
ransom, which he had sent to offer for her, did not bring her back into Persia, he would go
and fetch her in the head of an hundred thousand men; and that in the view of so mighty an
Army, he would deal with her, as Soliman had done with Mustapha.
After this cruel answer, the Sophi commanded this man to be searched, to see whether he
had any Letters about him for Mahamed, or his Governor: this search was not vain; they found one for the Prince, wherein what care soever Axiamira had taken that it should not




prejudice him if it were met withall, yet had she not sufficiently concealed the extream affection which was between them, and the intelligence they had held together, when she was at
Amasia. So that as soon as it was read, it was resolved, for fear Mahamed should receive
others by some more secret way, to have two things done. The first, to change all his House,
to the end that having none that he could trust about him, he might not receive any news from
Axiamira. And the second, to secure his person, lest some abroad should attempt that which
was doubted from them. This design being resolved, was quickly executed. Deliment, according to his wonted insolency, went himself to command the blind Prince from the Sophi
not to stir out of his lodging, and to charge both his Governor and all his servants to be gone
from him: That done, he placed a Guard about him, and left this Prince in an affliction, the
like whereof he had never felt before. All that came near him were his Enemies Agents, and
whether he would or no he was enforced to let them wait upon him. This detention made
a great noise in the Sophi's Court, even the people themselves were divers times about to rise;
but amongst the rest the Princes domestick servants could not endure this violence. And indeed, Mahamed's Governor, having assembled the chiefest of them together, propounded unto
them the enterprising of carrying away the Prince their Master to Bitilisa. He told them,
that it was better to put him into the hands of a courteous enemy, as Soliman was to Axiamira, then to leave him in the power of a cruel and incensed father; that as for them, if they
continued at Sultania, they would not be in safety, but upon the least suspicion that one should
have of them they would be severely punished; so that as well for the conservation of the
Prince, as for their own, they were to undertake the delivery of him. They all answered
him with agreat deal of zeal and affection, that they were ready to expose their lives for the
Prince their Master; but that they did not think they could commodiously do it for him.
Whereupon this wise Governor told them, how he knew certainly that those which guarded
him, relying on his blindness, were not very exact in keeping him; that it being so, the matter
would not be very difficult, because the Prince lay in a low chamber, that jetted upon the Palace garden, whereof the walls were not very high; that the only difficulty was to advertise
him not to make any noise, at such time as he should hear his chamber window opened; which
indeed would not be very easie to do, by reason the Prince could neither read that which should
be written to him, nor see the signs that might be made him, so that he concluded something
was to be left to chance; that for so much as concerned their getting out of the City, the
Governor thereof was resolved to follow the fortune of Axiamira, and to abandon a Government, which he knew well would be taken from him in a short time, by reason of the
great affection he had testified to this Princess, and that so it would be easie for them to escape.
This Proposition being approved of by all, they thought of nothing else but of executing it.
And whereas the nights were very dark, in regard the Moon did not shine, they deferred it
no further.
The Governor of Sultania, whom Mahamed had formerly gained, chose amongst his Soldiers those whom he believed were most faithful to him, and without any notice taken of it,
he placed them at one of the gates of the City, through which he meant to pass. Night being
come, all Mahamed's deliverers met together at a Randezvouz appointed by them; they brought
ladders to enter into the garden, whereof the walls were but low, as I have already observed.
For whereas Sultania was not the residence of the Sophi, they had not since the loss of Tauris,
as yet erected any magnificent buildings there. This generous Troop, passing between two Sentinels, got into the garden without any obstacle, went directly to Mahamed's lodging, opened
one of the windows of it, without awakening him, or any of his guard who lay in his anti-chamber; and then he whose voyce they thought he best knew, entered into his chamber
with his drawn Scymitar in his hand, approached to his bed after he had sought for it a while,
and though he wakened him very softly, yet could he not so speak to him, but that he gave a
a great skreek and demanded with much resolution, whether Deliment had sent to kill him.
Mahamed spake so loud, that some of his guard awaked, and made a noise amongst themselves; but the Prince coming to know his voyce that spake to him, and whom he was assured
was very faithful to him, held his peace, and by his silence made them of the guard who were
awake, hearing nothing any longer, to get them again to sleep, believing that Mahamed had had some troublesom dream, which had caused him to speak so loud; being not much careful besides in guarding him, because they had order only to keep any from speaking with him, and bringing him Letters.In the mean time Mahamed having understood in few words, in what manner they would
deliver him, suffered himself to be conducted by him that spake to him. All this Troop received him with exceeding joy; bur fearing lest they should be troubled with some cross encounter, as soon as they had put clothes upon him, which they had brought purposely along with them, they went out of the garden, and presently after forth of the City. About an hundred paces from the gate they found horses, which the Governor of Sultania had caused to be
there ready provided, and getting upon them, they rode away with all the speed that possibly
they could make. But whereas the Prince could not guide his horse, but was constrained to
let him be lead by another, they could not go so fast, but that the second day of their journey
they espyed a Troop of Horse posting after them, which, being far more in number then they
made them beleeve, not only that they were pursued, but that they were all lost; nevertheless
they resolved to sell their lives dearly. The Prince too, as blind as he was, caused a Scymitar to be
given him, and to the end, that if they fought, he might not strike his friends in stead of his foes,
he commanded his followers not to come near him without calling him by his name; and
whereas his eyes did not serve him to assault any, he resolved to abide in one place, with an
intention not to suffer himself to be taken alive. But whatsoever he could do, his people
placed him in the midst of them, much against his will, being resolved to dye or to save him.
In the mean time the Troop, which they beleeved to be their enemies, came still on, and every
one was already preparing for defence, when as the son of the Satrap of Mesapotmia, an
enemy to Deliment, advancing foremost, and throwing his Scymitar to the ground, to let them
know that he would not fight with them, made them change their resolution of defending
themselve, into embracing them. Prince Mahamed understanding who he was, and knowing him by his voyce, caressed him exceedingly, and learnt of him, that it was long before his
flight was known; because his guard, not having been accustomed to enter into his chamber
but when he called them, had waited till noon without going in; that the matter being discovered, Tachmas at the first shewed a great deal of fury; that Perca had done nothing but
laugh at it, and in a bitter jeering manner had wished, that Soliman would make him General
of his Army, to the end that a man who saw so clear, mighe chuse out the most advantageous
places for the encamping of his Troops; that for Deliment, whereas he hated his father, he
accused him for having been privy to his escape; and that having been ill-intreated by the
Sophi he was retired from the Court, and had commanded him to come and offer him whatsoever lay in his power, not doubting but he had taken the resolution to repair to the place
where Axiamira had already found a sanctuary; that in the mean time it was requisite for
them to make away with all speed, in regard it might be that Tachmas had altered his determination, and would resolve to have them pursued. Prince Mahamed desired further to know
of him who they were that accompanied him, which proved to be the worthiest men of the
Court. The Prince made very much of them; and that he might not hazard persons to
whom he was so much obliged, he sent one of his servants before to Bitilisa, to know of Axiamira, whether the place of her retreat would not be a safe one for them. This while they
rode on as fast as possibly they could: but when they were come to the uttermost part of the
frontire, they stayed to hear some news from him whom they had sent to Bitilisa. Ulama
came and brought it them himself; and this excellent man received Prince Mahamed with so
many testimonies of joy on either side, as they were a long time before they could separate
themselves, or resolve to march forward. All the rest came afterwards to salute Ulama, who assured them all of his service and protection. Mahamed as they rode along enquired after
Axiamira's health, but he durst not ask him any thing of Felixana, for fear lest he should
take that care for an effect of his ancient love. And when as Ulama perceived so much, I
thought, my Lord, said he unto him, that after I had assured you how Axiamira was in the
estate you desired her to be, you would have demanded of me how Felixana did, since having
heretofore judged her worthy ofyour affection, I might well think you would render her that
proof of your good will. My dear friend, replyed Mahamed smiling, I durst not put my Protector in mind that I had been his Rival; and though the memory of Felixana be infinitely
dear to me, that which I owe to your friendship kept me from rendering her publiquely, what
I will ever render her in my heart: Let not this discourse disquiet you, continued Mahamed,
for in acknowledging that I shall always be in love with the vertue of this discreet maid, I
protest to you withall, that this love shall never beget any other desire in my Soul, then to see





her contented, that is to wish she may be Ulama's wife. My Lord, answered he, Felixana is far more dangerous, and more to be feared then she was, when as she surmounted your heart; she hath charms and beauties, which you know not, and which peradventure will make you change your resolution. You are but too well assured, replyed Mahamed, that I am a bad Judg of beauty, and that love enters not into my heart by the eye. Neither do I mean, continued Ulama, that visible beauty which renders Felixana the object of admiration, as well of
stupid as of witty, of vicious, as of vertuous persons; but I mean that beauty, which
is wholly celestial; which never makes any but noble Conquests; which touches none but
great generous Souls; and which, not destroyed by time, begets another love, that lasts
eternally. In fine, my Lord, that which I mean is the beauty of the mind and soul of Felixana: When she 
captived you, she had wherewithall to make one believe that her thoughts were
generous; ambition did not move her, and the desire to be a Queen made her not forget what
she had promised. But, my Lord, Felixana hath done much more, for she hath despised death
for Axiamira, she hath exposed her self for her, and this rare maid hath testified so much constancy and generosity in divers encounters, as it will be hard for you not to love her, when you
shall understand it. I shall love her without doubt, replyed Mahamed, but the more worth
and vertue I shall know in her, the more shall I be obliged thereunto; and the more shall I be
confirmed in the resolution, wherein I have a long time been, not to esteem my self happy, but
when Ulama shall be so; nor to pretend to any thing from Felixana, but that which she
cannot deny me without a crime, that is to say, her friendship. Believe, my Lord, answered
Ulama, if there needs nothing but that to content you, you have cause to be satisfied; for I
certainly know, that it would be a hard thing to judg rightly, who carries more affection to
you, either Axiamira, Felixana, or my self. And be assured if you please, my Lord, that all
which I have said to you hath been but to have the pleasure to speak of Felixana; it being
most certain, that I honor her at this present so highly, and that she hath rendred the love which
I bear her so perfect, as jealousie can never have any place in my Soul.
With such like discourses Mahamed and Ulama, without being heard of any but him that
guided the Prince, beguiled the time; whil'st the rest entertained themselves with the weakness of Tachmas in suffering himself to be governed in that manner, with the malice of Perca,
the stupidity of Ismael, and the universal hatred that Deliment had drawn upon him. But at
length after they had travelled a day and an half, this Troop arrived at andBitilisa. Axiamira
and Felixana were exceeding joyful to see Prince Mahamed, who not able to enjoy the same
felicicy, was nevertheless charmed to hear them speak, Felixana, who loved the Prince as
much as if he had been her brother, durst not testifie so much unto him; but Ulama, being as
dextrously to discover her thoughts, as he had been in discerning those of the Prince, approached to her, and told her laughing, that he had made certain conditions with Mahamed, which
he conjured her she should observe. Two such sage persons, answered she, could not resolve
on any thing which is not just, wherefore I think that I shall not engage my self inconsiderately, when as I shall promise you not to break them. Ulama then told her in few words what
had past beeween the Prince and him, and Felixana promised to do that he desired; whereupon he left her to go and give order for the commodious lodging of all this Troop. The
Princess would needs see all them that came along with the Prince; and with her sweet carriage and address so absolutely gained them, as they would have enterprized any thing for her
service. Whil'st she was complementing, and Ulama giving direction in the Town, Felixana came to Mahamed, and such was their conservation together, as it knit their friendship fast
for all their lives after. He requested her she would permit him to be Ulama's confident,
and would forget the misfortunes which his love had been the cause of to her; he thanked her
for the services she had rendered to the Princess Axiamira; promised always to honor her
more then any person in the world; and without speaking to her of love, he gave her to understand, that if reason had not prevailed over his inclination, he had still been Ulama's Rival;
but it was of that power in his Soul, as he never spake a word to Felixana, contrary to the
promise he had made her, to love her no otherwise then as his sister.
In the mean time Ulama, after he had lodged the Prince in the Castle, the rest in the most
commodious houses of the Town, and given order for the intreating of them honorably dispatched away a man to advertise theGrand Signior of that which had past, and to beseech
him he would permit that Bitilisa might be a prison for Mahamed, as well as it was for



Axiamira; undertaking to bring him his head, if this Prince, or any of them that followed
him, enterprized ought against his service. But Soliman was not in an estate of thinking
the affairs of his Empire; and the Grand Visiers melancholy was the onely thing that took up
his minde. The Persian Embassador was come to Constantinople, and had oftentimes demanded audience, but could not obtain it. The Sultan spent the most of his time at Ibrahim's Palace; and though this illustrious Bassa was extream weak, yet walked he sometimes
with the Grand Signior in his garden. It happened then that one morning Soliman came to
visit him earlier then he had used to do, and having made him pass insensibly into his great
chamber, leaning on a Cane garnished with gold, which he most commonly went with when
he was in health, he would needs have him walk down, to the end, said be unto him he
might fortifie himself the better by taking the ayr. Ibrahim, who sought not the preservation of his health, did not obey the Sultan, for the reason alledged by him, to perswade him
to walk down; but contrarily he did it, out of the belief he was in, that his weakness being
exceeding great, the more he should put himself into agitation, the more would his forces
diminish, and the neerer he should be to his grave. With such different designs did the Sultan and the Bassa descend into the Court; and the Grand Signior, seeming as though he
would not have the Bassa make too long a walk at a time, caused him to lean on the balustrade, that divided the Court-yard of his Palace, there to rest himself with him. Scarcely
had they been there a quarter of an hour, when as they saw an hundred Janizaries enter, attired all in cloth of gold, who ranked themselves in order on both sides. The Grand Visier
surprized with this porap, demanded of Soliman what it mighe be? but he told him smiling,
that he must behold the end of this ceremony, before he could be cleared therein. The Bassa
then saw the Aga of the Janizaries enter, who marchcd alone gorgeously appareled; He was followed by the high Treasurer, whom the Turks call Testardar, accompanied
with an hundred Slaves, carrying two and two great maunds of silver, all full of the richest
ornaments that the women of the Levant do use. In some of them were little hats, set all
over with precious stones; chopines garnished with Turkeyses and Rubies; smocks embroidered with gold and pearl; most sumptuous gowns, which being layd confusedly together,
made a pleasing mixture, of curled cloth of gold, of cloth of silver, and of velvet, whose
ground was gold. The last maund was not open on the sides like the rest, and appeared to be
full of all sorts of jewels, of so excessive a value, as there were three or four hundred thousand crowns worth of pearls amongst them. They which carried these precious presents ranked
themselves all along the balustrade, where the Sultan and Ibrahim were leaning. After this
entred twelve charets full of young virgin Slaves, richly clothed, each of them drawn by six
white horses, and driven by two Eunuches. Then followed thirty other virgins, apparelled
in cloth of gold, accompanyed with so many black Slaves, having all of them chains and collars of massive gold: These Slaves being placed on their knees where the Aga of the Janizaries appointed them, there entred next two hundred Mules laden with hangings of cloth
of gold, of sattin, of velvet, the ground silver; with cushions embroidered all over, which
are the seats of that Country; and with a great deal of other most sumptuous furniture for
a house. All this being set in a most marvelous order, four and twenty men advanced, bearing two and two twelve coffers of China, garnished with gold and precious stones, who being placed as the rest, made way for twelve Slaves to be seen carrying Torches in their hands,
which were covered half way with plates of gold, and shined more with the precious stones
that were on them, then with the flame which consumed them. Until then the Grand Visier
had beheld this ceremony with a great deal of admiration and astonishment; but when as it
these Torches he saw twelve other Slaves carry a great Canopy of crimson velvet, covered
with another Canopy, higher then that, and all enriched with plates of gold, the curtains
thereof close drawn, reaching to the very ground, he passed from astonishment to grief;
especially when he saw that this Canopy was followed by a Charet, covered with cloth of
gold, drawn by six white horses, and accompanyed with thirty of the fairest Slaves that ever
had been seen, being all on horseback, with their hair hanging loose upon their shoulders,
and attired with as much magnificence as gallantry. For callmg to minde, that this pomp
was like unto that, which the Turkish Emperors use for their own daughters, when as they
cause them to be conducted to the Palaces of them, whom they give them for husbands, he beleeved that Soliman would at length constrain him to marry Asteria, to binde him wholly





to his service; and in this thought he had already resolved to lose his life, both out of a sense
of love, and out of a sense of Religion, before he would consent unto it. But he was
strangely surprized, when as the Grand Signior had made a sign to the Aga of the Janizaries to draw the curtains of the Canopy, to see upon a white steed, held by two black Slaves,
his incomparable Isabella.  Ah my Lord! cryed he out in Italian, Is not this an illusion?
may I beleeve that I see? and do not my eyes beguile me? And then losing all respect in this
encounter, he went maugre his weakness, and without attending Soliman's answer, to help
the Princess off from her horse, and to clear himself throughly of the doubt whereinto this
surprize had put him; but he could not execute his design, for the Aga of the Janizaries
had rendered him that service already, and had conducted her to the half pace of the balustrade, where the Bassa received her. This Princess had not seen him yet, because at such
time as the curtains, which concealed her, were drawn, the sight of so great an assembly had
not permitted her to mark him, though she had carefully sought about with her eyes to finde
him out. But when as Ibrahim advancing towards her, did by the sound of his voyce force
her to look that way, she had no less joy then he, though not so much amazement; for she
knew well enough that he was at Constantinople, and she beleeved too that she had been forcibly brought away by his order, for Rustan would never tell her any thing. And though
this violent design was not pleasing to her, yet felt she nothing but joy for all that at this first
view; nor did the paleness and change, which Ibrahim's melancholy had painted in his face,
any whit afflict her; being very glad to see the marks of his love, in those of his grief. Is
it possible, Madam, said Ibrahim unto her, that I should once more see the incomparable Isabella? Is it from Love or Fortune that I hold this grace? Neither from the one nor the other,
replyed Soliman in Italian, who was come to the top of the half pace, but from the good-will
which I bear thee, and from the desire I have to preserve thy life. This voyce brought respect
again unto Ibrahim, who told the Princess that she saw the greatest Monarch of the world,
for fear she should not render unto Soliman the honor that was due to him.  Isabella would
instantly have cast her self at his feet, when as this Prince raising her up, against the custom of
the Grand Signiors, and beholding her with a great deal of admiration, I do not marvel, said
he unto Ibrahim, that love hath been stronger in thee then friendship; and that the sight of
so rare a creature hath been dearer to thee then all my favors: But it is not requisite that so
many persons should be spectators of thy felicicy; and it will be enough, if thou suffer me
to be partaker of it with thee. Saying so, he commanded the Aga of the Janizaries to cause
all that had been brought thither to be carryed into Ibrahim's Palace, and to send every one
away but onely those which were to serve the Princess.
In the mean time Emilia who came in the Charet, that followed the Canopy under the
which Isabella had been placed, lighted out of it, and repaired to her; the Slaves that were
destined to wait on her in her charaber followed her also, and in that order, the Grand Signior marching foremost, and leaving Ibrahim to lead Isabella, they went up the stairs and into his charaber, and passed into his Cabinet; where they were not sooner arrived, but the
Sultan beginning to speak acquainted the Baasa, how having seen that his melancholy was invincible, and knowing that the absence of Isabella was the cause thereof, he had desired to
make it cease without parting with him. That besides, to the end there mght be nothing
wanting to his felicity, he had not causcd her to be thus brought away, without considering
the sequel of it, and that the Princess might live contentedly in his Empire, where she should
always have as much power as he. That for so much as regarded her Religion she might not
only be a Christian in her heart as he was, but even in the sight of all the people. That there were
examples of the same in the Othoman family; that Mahomet the second was the son of the Despot of Servia's daughter, whom Amurath had marryed both out of love and interest. That the same Mahomet had marryed the sister of the Emperor of Constantinople to Zogan Beglierbey of the lower Macedonia, with permission for her to have the exercise of her Religion as freely, as if she had been amongst the Christians. That these examples sufficed to keep the people from accusing him of introducing a Novelty, but in case they should dare to murmur at it, he knew well enough how to make himself be obeyed. To all these particulars Ibrahim had nothing to say but to thank Soliman; for although upon a second thought, the joy to see Isabella again was crost with some unquietness, yet he found no occasion to complain. The Princess of her side, coming thus to learn, that it was not Ibrahim which had caused




her to be brought away, was much comforted therewith; being very glad to see that his own
interest had not carryed him to expose her to such a violence.
In the mean time Soliman continued beholding Isabella with a world of admiration; for
albeit the grief she had been in had a little altered her, yet the joy to see Ibrahim, and the agitation of her spirits, had brought a carnation into her cheeks, which covered all the marks of her
melancholy; and which rendred her as fair, as ever she had been. The Grand Signior
being surprized with too much attention in considering this Princess, desired at least-wise that the
Bassa might not interpret it amiss; so that to conceal it in some sort, it must be acknowledged, said he unto him, that thou hadst reason to assure me, that the pictures, which thou hast
placed in thy chamber, resembled this Princess but very imperfectly; for the more I seek
for the ayr and features of those pictures in her face, the less comparison do I finde in
them.
Hitherto the Princess had not answered to Soliman's discourses, save with obeysances and
submissions, but hearing her self so highly praised. she fell a speaking, and humbly besought
the Grand Signior he would be pleased to justifie the love, which Ibrahim bare her, by
some other way, then by that of her beauty. She told him, that if he had not stronger chains
then that, he would be blame-worthy for preferring her before his Highness; but without
considering, either her merit, or her beauty, he was to think, that the affection which he carryed to her, was one of the inevitable effects of sympathy or fate. That she requested him
to beleeve, how Ibrahim had done nothing, but what he could not chuse but do; that he
knew without doubt as well as she, that the glory to serve so great a Prince, was to be preferred before all things; but his knowledg being the least of that which governed his will,
he had abandoned Reasons party, to follow that of love. Soliman ravished with the wit
of this Princess, desired her to pardon him for her forcible bringing away, and to remember
that he had not undertaken it, but to save Ibrahim's life. So fair a cause, answered the Princess, could not produce a bad effect, and whatsoever can save Ibrahim, can never wrong
Isabella. With such like discourses, the Sultan and these two illustrious Lovers entertained
themselves very pleasingly; but dinner time approathing, the Grand Signior told the Bassa,
that having purposed to bestow the Sultania Asteria upon him for a wife, and his love not
permitting that he should be so happy, as to have the most excellent man upon the Earth in
his allyance, he would at least-wise bring him Isabella with the same pomp, and with the
same ceremony, as if she had been his daughter indeed. After so obliging a discourse,
he retired, leaving Isabella extreamly satisfied, both of his wit, his courtesie, and generosity.
The Fourth Book.AFter the Grand Visier had waited upon the Sultan forth, he returned to Isabella with
so much transport and joy, as he had never felt the like before; the liberty to be able
to speak to her, without other witnesses then Emilia, was so sweet unto him, that neither
the remembrance of what was past, the care of the present, the fear of the future, nor even the weakness which his melancholy had brought upon him, was sensible either to his body
or his minde. I would undertake more exactly to describe the apprehensions of these two
illustrious persons, were I not perswaded that one had need to have made tryal of the like misadventures, and the like pleasures, before one could worthily acquit himself thereof. After
the first transports, which unexpected joys do cause in a soul, and which for the most part do
somewhat disorder Reason, Ibrahim and Isabella, coming to consider the estate wherein they
were, found that Fortune had but gilded over their Irons; yet was it some consolation to them,
that they might wear them together. I would not follow you to Constantinople,
said Isabella to Ibrahim, without being your wife; nor would I likewise that love should
have carryed you to make me be forcibly brought away: but since without your or my being
guilty thereof. Fortune hath conducted me hither, I have courage enough to endure this noble





captivity with you, until we may meet with some means to get out of it with honor.After many other discourses Ibrahim caused dinner to be served up to the Princess in private, during the which he went to give order for preparing him a lodging at Achmat's
Palace, which was not far from his, intending out of respect to leave this wholly to the Princess; but she being instantly advertised thereof by Emilia, who had heard him give order
for it to the Italian Slave that served him, she sent for him, and conjured him not to do so;
I am well assured, said she unto him, that in the Country where we are, I shall not clash
with civility to remain here with you; and I know you to be so wise and discreet that I cannot fear any unjust designs from you; withall you understand me too well for me to doubt,
that you will make any ill construction of the liberty I give you: It will be enough then for
you to quit your lodging, without quitting your Palace unto me, which how fair soever it is,
cannot be agreeable to me without you. This illustrious Baasa would not yeeld at first, but
at length he obeyed the Princess.
In the mean time they who saw Ibrahim, could not doubt but that Soliman had found out
the right remedy, which could throughly chase away his melancholy. His eye was quicker,
his countenance more lively, his speech stronger, his gate more steddy, and this change was
so great and sudden, that every one spake of it as of a prodigy. In fine, the presence of Isabella did that in a few days, which the art of the Physicians could not do in a very long time;
and the Grand Visier found himself in so perfect an health, as he had never been in a better. But
whil'st he was happy, Soliman did not enjoy so great a tranquillity: The sight of Isabella
through an inevitable fate had excited trouble in his soul. For whereas he had eminently met
in the person of this Princess with all the beauties of Roxelana and Axiamira, and a great
deal of resemblance of both of them, especially of the last, he could not chuse but be in all
the passion for her alone, which he had been in for the other two. This great Prince rendered not himself for all that without fighting; and it may be he had not been vanquished, if at
the beginning he had known the forces of his Enemy. But what trouble soever the first
sight of Isabella brought to his heart, he thought notwithstanding that Reason, and his
friendship to Ibrahim, would be stronger then his inclination. It was not because he had not
tryed the weakness of the former; but for the second, he beleeved that nothing could overcome it. In this confidence, the first days of Isabella's being at Constantinople, and that
Ibrahim was not as yet in an estate to go to the Serraglio, he continued visiting him as he
was wont to do: But the more he saw Isabella, the more charming he found her; he always
observed some new grace in her; and her wit making her still to be more known, his passion
still augmented the more: Howbeit he perceived not the violence and power of it, till such
time as civility would no longer permit him to see her. For the Grand Visier having recovered strength enough to go to the Serraglio, Soliman having no more pretext to visit
him, saw himself deprived of the sight of Isabella, and by this privation he felt in his heart
that this person alone could make up all his felicity, or all his misery. This Prince no sooner
knew the force of this Enemy, by which he had suffered his soul to be surprized, but
he would have opposed it. What! said he to himself, unjust and cruel that I am,
cannot I, after the obtaining of so many Victories abroad, vanquish my self this once?
must I be mine own cruellest Enemy? and must this predominant passion, that reigns in
my heart, be always stronger then Reason? cannot I love, continued he, but I must be
criminal? and is my destiny so unlucky, that I cannot be happy, without violating all that
is most sacred in the world? All the Earth yeelds me Slaves; the fairest women of all Greece
are in my power, and in my Serraglio, and in the mean time I will ravish from the onely
man that I love, the onely person that he can love, the onely person that can preserve his life;
he that, being the noblest of men, hath ventured it an hundred times for the safety of this
Empire, and he that rather then he would break his word with me had resolved for death
in abandoning Isabella. Ah, no, no; let us rather dye, then consent to this unjust passion; let us deprive our selves for ever of that which onely can make us happy, since we cannot be so without ingratitude and baseness.After so just a reasoning, Soliman seemed sometimes to be eased, and to have taken an immovable resolution to think no more of Isabella's charms. But her image no sooner presented itself to his minde, but changing his resolution, he also changed his discourse. I know very well, said he, regarding things as I do, that I owe much to Ibrahim, but I know





withall, that I owe very much to my self. It is not always reasonable for one to give himself death to save the life of his friend; I am not ignorant that friendship ought to be firm, but yet I know, that love hath not used to respect it. And then again, who knows whether Ibrahim will yeeld Isabella to me? he that could resolve to leave her at Monaco to return to Constantinople, may peradventure yeeld her to me for the saving of my life. For what can
a man do less for me, whom I have drawn out of Irons, and from the grave and have made
the mightiest man in my Empire? Let us love then, said he, since we may do it without a
crime. But alass! continued he, when as Ibrahim hath consented to my love, I have not
vanquished Isabella; and then he called to minde the constancy which she had shewed ever
since the first day that she had begun to love Ibrahim. This difficulty for all that seemed not
so great unto him, but that he hoped to overcome it, if he could absent the Grand Visier,
as the affairs of Persia seemed to require. Whereupon he framed the design of it, after he
had a long time combated in himself, and prepared to give audience to the Embassador the
Sophi had sent to demand Axiamira and Felixana of him; seeming to have no other thought
then that of the affairs of Persia, nor other object, but the good of his Empire. He also let
Ulama know, that what he had demanded for Mahamed was granted him; and the care
of his State seemed to take him up in such sort, as albeit he became very melancholique, and
that his countenance was altered, Ibrahim suspected no other thing, but that the incertainty wherein he was, whether he should make use of the persons of Axiamira, Mahamed,
and Felixana, whom he had in his hands, for the making of some propositions of peace,
because he was pressed by the affairs of Hungary, or that he should continue the War of
Persia.
In the mean time Ibrahim and Isabella, considering their fortune, could not well imagine
by what way they might obtain their libertcy; it being incredible that Soliman should be carryed to the design of forcibly bringing away the Princess, for to let her return again into her
Country, and to deprive himself for ever of a man, from whom he seemed to be inseparable.
So as not knowing what to do, or what to resolve on, the Grand Visier propounded unto
her, considering the estate wherein things were, that she would permit him to make one
warlike voyage more against the Persians; to the end,that having repaired the disorders which
his absence had caused in that Kingdom, he might at his return come and cast himself at the
Sultan's feet, and demand for a reward of his victories onely the liberty of returning into
his Country; with the resolution, that if he did not grant that which he desired of him, not
to be more generous then he, and to obtain that by flight which he had refused him, since, as
it seemed to him, he might do it without injustice. At first this proposition surprized Isabella; and her heart perswaded her, that Ibrahim had not Reason on his side. What, said she,
will you always abandon me? and will you finde no place in all the world where we may
live together? when you were come to Monaco, you quitted me to return unto Constantinople; and now that Fortune hath brought me thither; you will abandon me to go into
Persia; but with this grievous difference, that when as you quitted me at Monaco, your left
me in my Country; your person was the onely thing, that I lost; your absence made up all
my grief; and fear found no place in my soul but for the love of you: But in this encounter
I have cause to be afraid of all things. You will abandon me in a Country, whose language,
manners, customs, and Religion, are different from ours, and where vertue is not found but
in the person of Soliman. I will not make use, continued she, of the Reasons, which you
made use of, when you would not let me come to Constantinople, in making me consider
what would become of me if it happened that you should dye: But that is not my fear, seeing it is certain, that in what place soever of the Earth this misfortune should arrive unto me,
I should always be equally sensible of it; that nothing can increase or diminish my grief;
that I shall everywhere finde the remedy to finish it; and that my death would without
doubt keep me from regretting yours. I do not fear you shonld dye without me, but I am afraid to live without you. Do not think then of abandoning me, and if you will go into
Persia, suffer me to go along with you.
The Bassa hearing the Princess speak in this sort, knew not what to answer her; and thought
he found no other way of hoping to obtain from Soliman the liberty which he desired, yet
durst he not oppose Isabella's pleasure. Do, Madam, what shall seem good unto you, said
he unto her; dispose of my fortune, and my life; and beleeve, if you please, that the same




reason, which carryed me to abandon you at Monaco, hath now induced me to make this
proposition unto you. But do not think of following me to the war; it is the onely thing
wherein I may contradict you in this encounter, and I am resolved never to consent unto it.
I will not go into Persia, if you enjoyn me to it: I will go and make Soliman deny me our
liberty in demanding it of him; I will even endevor to think of our flight if you will; and
by all these ways expose you, it may be, to strange misadventures: I will notwithstanding
consent to all these things, if you command me; but I will never endure that you shall undertake a warlike voyage. For, Madam, there is a great deal of difference between living at Constantinople under the protection of one of the excellentest Princes of the world, and following an Army of an hundred thousand men, who delight in nothing but fire and sword; and
against whom you would have but one to protect you, if your beauty should happen to give
me Rivals, or the misfortune of war should make me be vanquished by mine Enemies.
I know well enough, answered the Princess, that I am of a sex which ought not to see war
save in picture; but what will you have me do? I see too well, continued she, that we are
in a deplorable estate, and that we cannot seek for a remedy, whereof the event is not very
doubtful. After the obligations wherein you stand engaged to Soliman, there is no talk of
flight; yea and I feel in my heart something that resists it. On the other side, I know full
well that in the estate wherein the affairs of his Empire now stand, and his friendship to you
considered, it will not be easie for my tears to obtain our liberty; and from thence I judg,
that nothing but generosity alone can constrain him not to refuse us. Upon the victory over
the Persians our freedom depends, if it be so that we may ever obtain it; but I fear too,
that this remedy is not very well assured. For if you prove not fortunate in this war, how
dare you demand your liberty? and if you be victorious, it is to be feared that in fighting
for Soliman, you fight not against your self; that the conquests you shall make for him, do
not keep him also from resolving to part with you; and in this fore, I cannot make use of the
power which you do give me to dispose of you in this occasion, my reason not being strong
enough alone of it self to take any resolution.
Ibrahim saw that all the Princesses Objections were so powerful, as he could think of nothing able to destroy them. But at length, after well examining the matter, they found how
it was true, that it might happen the voyage of Persia would serve them to no purpose; but
they found withall, that it was the onely thing that could be beneficial to them; knowing
well enough, that if Soliman could be vanquished, it would be onely by generosity. Ibrahim assured the Princess as much as possibly he could, that no misfortune should arrive to her
in his absence, relying in such sort on Soliman's friendship to him, as he could not doubt but
that he would be very careful in protecting her. And though he knew that the Sultan was
very susceptible of love, and that he had feared before at Monaco, lest he would have been
too sensibly touched with Isabella's beauty, if she obstinately persisted in her determination
to follow him to Constantinople, yet had he no fear of it in this encounter. That which
gave him this tranquillity of spirit, was because he knew, that this Prince had never been taken, but with the first sight of the persons whom he had loved; that love never entred into
his heart but by surprizing him; and that whomsoever he had once seen without passion, was
not able afterwards to touch him with any. And whereas Soliman, contrary to his custom,
had taken great care to conceal his thoughts, he had not perceived his love to Isabella; but
contrarily, thinking that he had seen her without loving her, he beleeved that he was safe on
that side. In this Opinion he the more easily resolved for the War of Persia; and whereas
he knew that affairs were pressing, and that the Sophi's Embassador having had audience, the
Divano would be held the next day, wherein peace or war for the interest of the Empire
would be concluded, he conjured the Princess to take her last resolution. Emilia, who was
present at this Councel, was on Ibrahim's side, and perswaded the Princess to consent to the
voyage he would undertake. And to carry her the sooner thereunto, the Bassa told her further, that diverting Soliman's Arms from Hungary would render a great service to Christendom; and that this action might peradventure obtain from Heaven the liberty which they so
much wished for. He added moreover, that without doubt this war would not be long because the manner of the Persians was, not to fortifie their Towns, so that having no important sieges to make, the business according their custom would be decided by the gain or loss of a battel.Upon these and many other reasons the Princess resolved for this grievous separation, and
Ibrahim having left her, after they had made new protestations of fidelity the one to the
other, he went unto Soliman to begin the preparing of his minde to the war of Persia. This
Prince, who never swerved from the way of vertue but by constraint, had sought so mightily with the passion wherein he was for Isabella, as he might perchance have defeated it, or
at least-wise have never made shew of it, had not the Grand Visier himself contributed to
his own misfortune, in propounding unto him his sending him again into Persia. For whereas it is very difficult to reject that which may satisfie us, it was impossible for the Sultan to
refuse that which Ibrahim offered. He had had strength enough, after a long combate and
after he had an hundred times changed his opinion, to resolve not to propound this voyage
unto him, since he could not undertake it without quitting Isabella; but he had not enough
not to accept of that which could content his passion. He determined for all that, because
the matter regarded the good of his Empire, to have it proposed in the Divano, to the end
the people should not murmur, and might know that he had not preferred war before peace,
until he had well examined the importance of it.
The day following at seven of the clock in the morning, twelve thousand Janizaries appeared in Arms in the great Court of the Serraglio; for in regard it was a Councel of War,
where the Grand Signior assisted in person, there was more ceremony used thenin the Divano, which was accustomed to be held for affairs of peace; the Halls of extraordinary audiences were opened, and hung with the richest hangings that the Grand Signior had. There
was seen at one end, under a cloth of State of curled cloth of gold, a Throne, raised four degrees high, covered with gold Tinsel, and in the midst of it four cushions of the same stuff,
for his Highness to sit upon. All along the Hall were little low seats, adorned with cloth of
silver, for the placing of all the Officers of the Empire, who came thither very early, in the
richest and bravest apparel that they had. The Beglierbeys of Natalia and Lavandali, with
those of Amasia, of Cairo, Siria, Europe, and Romelia, were present there; so were also
the Capitan Bassa Governor of Constantinople, and all the chiefest Sangiacs, namely of
Morea, of Nicopoli, Philopali, Trivala, Negrepont, and others; the Aga of the Janizaries
was likewise there, together with the Tesqueregibassi, to execute his charge of principal Secretary of State if need required: In conclusion, there was not any of all the Officers of the
Turkish Monarchy lacking there, but onely Rustan, who was not yet so well re-established,
as to be present at Ceremonies. After they were placed according to their degrees, and that
to manifest the more greatness and respect they had attended a long time with an extraordinary silence, the two Capigibassi, or Captains of the Port, entred into the Hall richly clad,
having each of them in his hand, for a mark of their charge, an Indian Cane garnished with
gold and stones, and went and stood on either side of Soliman's Throne: After them entred
the Grand Visier, Ibrahim, as being chief Bassa, marching alone two paces before the Sultan, whom two Bassa's supported under the Arms, and behinde him three of the children of honor, who waited on him in his chamber, and carryed a great cushion of cloth of gold,
all set with precious stones of an inestimable value: Next after followed a many of other Officers of the Empire, and a great part of the principal Eunuchs of the Serraglio  When as
the Grand Signior appeared, all they that were in the Hall, both on the right and the left hand,
rose up; and as he passed by them, they saluted him after their manner with their hands across
on their breasts, and bowing their heads down even to the ground. Ibrahim, who marched foremost, mounted up to the Throne, whither the two Bassa's conducted Soliman, who being
set, caused our illustrious Bassa to be placed at his feet upon the highest step; upon the second
on the left hand the two Bassa's that had led him with the Cadilescher of Greece; and on
the right the Bassa of the Sea, and the Cadilescher of Natalia; the three children of honor, after they had set down the cushion which they had brought behinde him, retired to the
Eunuchs; and the Capigibassi seated themselves on the lowest step, at the feet of the Bassa's.
As soon as the Grand Signior had made a sign with his hand for every one to sit down, each
one re-assumed his place, after they had again made a low obeysance to the Sultan, and
keeping a most extraordinary silence for so great an assembly, they continued a while in this sort, as it were attending the Grand Signior's Commands; who after he had thought a little
of what he was to say, began to speak unto them. He told them, that although he could resolve all things by his absolute power, yet in regard it concerned the glory of his Arms, the



greatness of his Empire, and the good of his subjects, he would not frame any design, without communicating unto them the matter he had in hand; to the end that having acquainted
them with the importance of it, they might give him faithful and dis-interessed counsel.
After that, he represented unto them the victories which he had obtained over the Persians
through the valor of Ibrahim; and then, the misadventures, which his absence and Ulama's
hurt had caused in that Country. He told them that nothing rested of all his conquests, but
the remembrance that they had been made: and whereas he had an intention to carry them
to a war, he aggravated with a great deal of vehemency, how shameful it would be to the
Empire to make peace after they had been last beaten. He told them withall notwithstanding, that having the Princess Axiamira the daughter of the Sophi, and Prince Mahamed
his son, in his hands, he was in an estate, if they thought fit, to tender propositions of peace
unto Tachmas; but that they should well examine before-hand, whether that would not be
dishonorable; and that they should remember, how in publique interests particular interests
were not always to be considered, and that the glory of the Empire was to be preferred above all things.
After he had spoken thus unto them, he commanded them to deliver their Opinions, which
proved not to be alike, for they were all carryed by different thoughts. Some, won by Roxelana and Rustan, opposed the voyage of Persia; others, for the sole interest of the people,
were of the same opinion; some again, to please the Sultan, counselled the war; and others,
for their particular interest likewise, opposed peace. Yet did they not for all that deliver their
Opinions tumultuously, not without giving reasons for them; but contrarily keeping a marvelous decorum in this Councel, they spake all severally, and without precipitation. But
whereas, according to the order which is observed amongst the Turks, Ibrahim was to deliver his Opinion first, as being the chief in dignity, he was already preparing to speak, when
as Machmut, Cadilescher of Natolia, who hid been suborned by Roxelana, besought his
Highness, that for this time onely that custom might not be followed, to the end that the
Opinions, which should be given in this occasion, might be the more sincere. For, my Lord,
said he unto him, I am assured if the noble Ibrahim propounds his Opinion first, that it will
be impossible for me to deliver mine, if it happen to be contrary to his; not because I cannot take the liberty to contradict him if I could, for I know his generosity too well for that;
but because his Reason renders it self so absolute a Mistress of anothers, as it is not possible
for one to conserve his own sense. A man cannot defend himself from him; he perswades
whatsoever he pleaseth; and one cannot chuse but gainsay in his minde his own Opinions.
In fine, my Lord, whether it be for the love that is born him, or for the reasons that I have
alledged, I am very certain, if the generous Ibrahim speaks first, that his vote will carry all
the rest; that there will be but one Opinion found in the whole Assembly; and that in this
sort, thy Highness will not know our true sence, but wilt onely understand Ibrahim's, which
doubtless we shall but say over again. It is not because I do not beleeve his counsel to be better then any other that can be given thee; but I conceive, that for divers causes, which regard Ibrahim himself, it is requisite thou shouldst leave us to be guided by our own Reason.
In this sort it was that the subtle Machmut, instructed by the cunning Roxelana, got the order of the Divano to be changed; for though this proposition displeased the Grand Signior, yet durst he not for all that reject it; and so much the less, because Ibrahim himself besought his Highness that it might be so, after he had notwithstanding told Machmut, that he was not so eloquent, as he would make him believe; and that he was perswaded also, how all those which he saw there, whom the Sultan honored with his presence, did not regard any thing, no more then he, but the interests of the Empire, and the glory of his Highness.After this, the Bassa Piali spake first, and was of the opinion, that no propositions of peace should be tendred, in regard they had been last beaten; but withall he was of the minde, that without making such great preparations for war, they should onely stand upon the defensive, and retain Prince Mahamed and the Princess Axiamira, whereby without doubt the Sophi would soon be brought to speak first of this peace, which then might be accepted of, if it were propounded with reasonable conditions. Scander Capitan Bassa, speaking in his turn, said, that a great Prince and a great Polician should never be contented with being in an estate of defending himself; that he should always either carry the war to his



Enemies, or not make it at all; that it was better to make peace, then not to make conquests;
that not to assail ones Enemy, when one was in Arms, was in a manner to be vanquished,
or at least-wise to testifie fear, or weakness; that in this occasion he did not see there was any
choyce to be made; that it would be without example to make propositions of peace to a
Prince, who was contented to offer two millions for the ransom of his daughter and Felixana; and that it would shew much imprudence, not to prepare for war, after the refusal of
them to him: so that in regard they were not to be rendred because they were not prisoners
of war, nor to be kept without being in a condition to defend them, his advice was, that to
obtain peace, and oblige Tachmas to demand it, an Army of five hundred thousand men was
to be levyed, to the end that fear might carry him to propound it advantageously for the
Turkish Empire.
Machmut, Cadilescher of Natolia, said, that whereas it was never counted a design either base or shameful in a Prince to procure the peace of his subjects, he conceived that if it
were possible to make use of the persons of Prince Mahamed and the Princess Axiamira for
the obtaining thereof, it was to be done: and so much the rather, because in continuing this
war, the treasures of the State would be unprofitably exhausted; the power of the Sultan
would be impaired by the loss of the Janizaries which would perish in it; yea and the honor of the Arms of the Empire would be once again hazarded: and all this without attending any recompence from it, it being absolutely impossible to maintain the conquests that
were made in Persia, whereof History gave sufficient proof; and therefore if war were to
be made, that it was better to fall upon the Christians with an Army of five hundred thousand men, which would strike fear into all Europe, amplifie the limits of the Empire, and
eternize the name of Soliman, rather then to lose them to no purpose: How it would be a
shame to see one day in History, that Soliman had warred a long time against the Sophi; that
at several times he had led millions of men into Persia, and after all, that there should not be
remaining under the dominion of his successors, so much as one foot of ground of the conquests he had made there. Finally he concluded, that not this war, but the other, was to be
thought on.
Isuf, Cadilescher of Greece, maintained this Opinion, though out of a different meaning;
for the former was carryed by the perswasions of Roxelana, and he by the sole consideration
of the publique good. But he added to the others Reasons, that if the war of Persia continued longer, whole Provinces might revolt, by reason of the poverty whereuneo the interruption of commerce would reduce them; in so much that this forraign war might cause a civil,
more dangerous and more deadly then the other; that if this mischief should arrive, as the
murmuring of the people seemed to threaten, they should then be constrained to propound a
shameful peace to Tachmas, who it may be, to make use of this advantage, would not accept of it; that so they should have Enemies both without and within, whil'st the Christians, which were but Tributaries of the Empire, might possibly undertake to shake off the
yoke which had been layd upon them; and that all Christendom besides might peradventure
unite their forces together, seeing Soliman busied elsewhere, to reconquer that which had
been taken from them.
Hali, the Bassa of the Sea, was of the opinion, that not onely there should no Articles
of peace be propounded, that not onely there should be preparations for war, but even that
no propositions from the Sophi should be accepeed of, if he happened to make any. How
it was just that Soliman should surpass his predecessors in something; that they had conquered from the Christians, as well as he; but that none had conserved that which they had
won from the Persians; that it was for him to change this order; that it was a weak reason to say, that since they had conserved themselves till then maugre all the Othoman power,
and that the victorious Selim, his Highness Father, had vanquished them with loss, therefore
one could do no more; that contrarily it was a mark their ruine was neer; that Empires had their ages as well as men, and being subject to the revolutions of fortune, it was credible
that this extraordinary constancy, which she had shewed in protecting of the Persians,
would quickly change; that it being so, it was not to be doubted but that this illustrious victory was reserved for the greatest Prince, that hath been since Alexander, the most renowned Hero's of antiquity, and the most in veneration amongst the Turks; that the Empire of
the Persians was not so flourishing as it was at such time as it was overthrown, nor Soliman
less valiant, then he who had conquered it; that in fine it was reasonable, after the Sultan
had travelled so much for the felicity of his Subjects, that his Subjects also should do something for his glory: so as he was of the opinion, that without considering whether the people
murmured or no, an expedition should be made into Persia with all the Forces of the Empire.
Achmat Bassa, speaking in his course, consented indeed to the voyage of Persia but not
to the design of impairing the Empire on all parts, to make new conquests on that side; since
without hazarding any loss of the one side to gain on the other, there needed no more then to
oblige Ibrahim to make one journey more thither; that it was without doubt from his hand
Soliman was to attend this victory; that it was easie to judg of the future by things past;
and that the Sultan without venturing any thing, and to retain both his Subjects and his Tributaries in their duties, should abide at Constantinople as in the center of his Empire, to give
order for all things, and to prepare Crowns and Triumphs for the illustrious Bassa, who would
without question return Conqueror of Persia.           ,
Next was the Beglierbey of Romelia of the same opinion; He of Carro concurred with
him; and all the rest being divided amongst the seaven that had already spoken, it was for
Ibrahim to deliver his advice; but he was constrained to attend a little, because Machmut
said a second time to maintain his first opinion, that it would be a shame to be exposed to the
loss of the advantage which they had over the Christians. Achmat answered, that it would
be a greater to demand peace after they were beaten. The Bassa Piali added, that extream
resolutions were dangerous to Monarchies; and that in the end Princes, which loved their
Subjects, and whose Empire was great enough, ought not to make War, but for the procuring
of peace. Isuf, to fortifie this opinion, said further, that the people were not to be so little
considerable with the Emperor, since from them came his riches, his force, his power, and his
greatness; that the people had in some parts of the world been happy without Kings, but no
Kings could be so without Subjects: He said likewise, that prudence never did anything
precipitously, and still would have the Prince spare the blood of his people. But the Bassa
of the Sea replyed, that it was oftentimes just and necessary to lose one part of his Subjects for
the preservation of the other; and that an Empire was a great Body, for the maintenance
whereof all things might be done, without considering particular interests. Scander added,
that a great Prince was never to make peace but with the sword in his hand, and that the way
to keep the people from murmuring, was to make it advantageonsly; that for the effecting
thereof five hundred thousand men were to be raised, to the end they might obtain that by
force which could not be obtained by any other mean.
This Bassa having given over speaking, Ibrahim repeated in order all the opinions that
had been given; he confuted that of the Bassa Piali; approved that of Scander Capitan
Bassa; mightily opposed Machmut's advice, as also that of Isuf; commended the generous
resolutions of Ali the Bassa of the Sea, and the prudent considerations of Achmat, with exception nevertheless of the praises he had given him. But at length for a conclusion he said,
that great Princes were always to give peace, and not to demand it; that if Soliman's children
had happened to have been the Sophi's prisoners, all that could then have been done was but to
propound it; and that even Tachmas was so generous as not to do it, though Prince Mahamed and the Ptincess Axiamira were in his Highness hands; that it was a gallant thing in
the Victorious to speak of Peace, because they thereby demonstrated, that the sole desire of
glory had made them fight; but that it was always shameful, how specious a pretext soever
might be taken up for it, to speak of peace, when as one had been beaten. That this were to
yield up the Victory, and to render ones arms to his Enemy, to implore the pity of the Conqueror, to augment the courage of his adversaries, to weaken that of his Soldiers, and even to
expose himselt to the hazard of having done an unworthy ad unprofitably; that besides, the
only mean to keep Christendom from uniting their Forces for the destrudion of the Turkish
Empire, was to let it breathe a little after so much War, because if it were further provoked,
it might peradventure do that which it would not do, were it left in rest; that it was many
times dangerous to prosecute ones enemies too much; that tempting Fortune so often she
might be weary of favoring, and at last abandon those whom she had protected; that to keep
her from changing, we were to change our design, and suffer our selves to be conducted by her
and not force her to follow us; that after all, he did not find, that any deliberation was to be




had upon the matter in question; that Tachmas being in arms, and offering no Proposition
of Peace, albeit his Children were under the power of his Highness, it would be an unheard of
and shameful thing to think of it, especially if it might be remembred, that it was not
yet a year since Soliman had been crowned King of Persia at Bagdet; that it would not be a
shame for the Sultan to make no more Conquests upon the Christians, but that it would be a
great one for him to let himself be vanquished by the Persians, or at leastwise to demand Peace
of them; that for so much as regarded Prince Mahamed and the Princess Axiamira, in the
estate wherein things were, they could not be rendred upon any conditions; yea, and that it
would be most unworthily done to remit them into the hands of the Sophi for the making of
Peace, because they were not prisoners of War, but contrarily were persons fled for refuge;
that Soliman was therefore to protect them, to make War both for their sakes, and also that
he might not be ingraceful to Ulama, whose Fortune was conjoyned to Felixan's; that the
War had never had more juster grounds, then since the time that the Princess Axiamira,
Prince Mahamed, and Felixana, were in the power of the Sultan; that one of the prime duties of a King, was to protect the oppressed; and that in this encouncer there was too fair an
occasion presented, to be lost; that as for him, he offered, if his Highness pleased, to return unto
this War, and not to spare, either his care, his blood, or his life, for restoring the honor of his
arms to the point, wherein it had been.
Ibrahim had no sooner made an end of speaking, but they, who had been of a contrary
opinion to his, seeing the Grand Signior favor his party, began to change theirs in appearance;
professing that his reason had cleared theirs. And Machmut was he alone, who seeming to
yield as the rest, opposed himself still notwithstanding to this resolution: But Soliman having
made a sign to him to hold his peace, he kept silence as well as the rest of the assembly; and the
Grand Signior, having commanded the bringing in of the Persian Embassador, spake softly
to Ibrahim, but yet finished his discourse aloud in giving him order to answer this Embassador
according to his sence; so that as soon as he appeared, the grand Visier rose up, and after he
had made a low obeisance to the Sultan, he told him how he was to assure the Sophi his Master from his Highness, that his State should always be an inviolable sanctuary to all oppressed
Princes; that the Princess Axiamira and Felixana being no prisoners of War, the Grand
Signior, far from accepting the ransom which was offered for them, declared by him, that he
would become their Protector, as well as Prince Mahameds; and that he would shortly go
with a very mighty Army to execute his Highness Commands, and to see Justice rendred to
these exiled Princes. The Persian Embassador thereupon labored to make it appear, that
Axiamira not having been intreated as a person fled for refuge, since she had been i nprison,
was to be taken for a prisoner of War; and for a conclusion he added, that if she were not
delivered up, the Sophi would come with an Army of two hundred thousand men to make her
be rendred unto him. But the grand Visier having answered him, that he would save him
the labor of coming so far, and that he would go and meet him even in his own Country, he
was constrained to withdraw, as he did with satisfaction little enough. He was no sooner
gone forth, but the Grand Signior arose, after he had commanded the Officers of the Empire,
in all things to obey Ibrahim, as if it were himself, and in particular the Bassa of the Sea to
prepare for his departure with the Naval Army, to go and fall upon Mingrelia, of purpose to
make a diversion, and divide the Enemies Forces.
After this Commandment, the Sultan returned in the same order as he came, only one of the
Capigibassi remained in the Hall, to the end that according to the custom he might cause all
those, which had assisted in this extraordinary Councel, to be presented with a rich Gown,
which is given to all the Officers of the Turkish Monarchy, from the Grand Signior, so often
as he honoreth the Divano with his presence, which happens but seldom. The two Bassa's
which conducted the Emperor having left him alone with Ibrahim, he told him that
rested nothing for him now but to take his leave of Isabella, because all the Troops, which had
been levyed for the making up of his Army, being already far advanced, all that he could do
was to overtake them upon the frontire; that he was sorry he was constrained to separate him
from a person that was so dear unto him; but he was to remember that glory was the fairest
Mistress in the world, and how it was not but for her that he abandoned the Princess. Ibrahim
answered thereunto, that the sole glory of his Arms carried him on, for he assured his Highness,
that in the voyage he was going to undertake, he considered not himself at all; and in the




mean time, that he might part with some satisfaction, he besought him he would promise to
protect Isabella in all things during his absence; and if he happened to dye in this War, that
he would send her back in safety to any place which she should please to make choyce of.
This discourse touched Soliman; he was ashamed of his own thoughts and weakness; and
little lacked but that craving pardon of Ibrahim, he had opened his heart to him, and acknowledged his crime with repentant: Howbeit love was the stronger, and that vertue, which
this Prince followed in all other encounters, was too weak in this for the resisting of so powerful an Enemy.
He abandoned himself then unto it, and with an equivocating answer promised the Grand
Visier, that he would proted Isabella against all the wodd; that there was not any subject of
his whom he would not severely punish if he should displease her; that for what he had demanded of him in case he should dye, was a thing whereunto he could not answer, that thought
being too grievous for him to settle his mind upon it; that for her more safety during his absence, he held it fit that Isabella should not abide in his Palace, but should pass away that time
in the old Serraglio, in the company of his mother, of his sisters, and his daughters; that the
Sultana Asteria, to whom he was somewhat obliged, should take care to entertain her; and
that for the exercise of her Religion, she should go forth as often as she would; that his making of this proposition proceeded from the remembrance of the seditious tumult, which was
raised at such time as he was in Natolia; for whereas the people and the Janizaries were perswaded that this War was undertaken by his counsel, if by mischance news should come, either
true or false, that he had been beaten, he feared lest the fury of the one or the other, or of both of
them together, should fall foul on his Palace, and Isabella be involved in that disorder. Ibrahim,
seeing a great deal of reason in that which the Grand Signior said, humbly thanked him for
his providence, and told him that he would go and propound the matter to Isabella: But he
knew not that this proposition was made, rather to undo then preserve her; and that this
Prince, whom be beleeved to be so generous (as indeed he was when as love did not trouble
his Reason) thought not so much of the Conquest of Persia, as of the Conquest of
Isabella.
In this dangerous ignorance he went to the Princess, and made that proposition to her
which the Sultan had made to him, but not till he had rendred her an account of all that had
past in the Divano. At first that name of the Serraglio affrighted her, and her modesty could
not suffer him to continue speaking without interrupting him; But after she had told him I
know not how often that she could not resolve to go thither, she was constrained to alter her
mind, Ibrahim having made it appear to her, that the old Serraglio was the only place of all
the Orient, where the most vertues, and the fewest vices were. As indeed, it is not inhabited
by any but the Mother, Aunts, Daughters, and Sisters of the Emperor, who never have any
commerce with the Sultana's of the other Serraglio, unless it be with the Sultana Queen
which lives in the Grand Signiors lodging. For touching the people abroad, they never see
any of them; having no other entertainment then to learn Needle works and Musick, which
certain Jewish women teach them; to walk in their gardens, which are very fair; to receive
the visits which the Sultan sometimes gives them, especially when his Mother is still living;
to look out at the windows, which open upon the Port and the City; and to see the publique
feasts when they are celebrated at Constantinople: living otherways with a great deal of reservedness, until the Sultan marries them to some of his Bassa's, for a recompence of some
great Conquests atchieved by them. Isabella, having then understood all these particulars,
surmounted the aversion which she had against the entring into that place, and was at length
perswaded that she should be much better amongst women, then to live alone with Emilia and Slaves in the Palace where she was.
This resolution being taken, the grand Visier gave
order to his servants to prepare all things
for his voyage, that he might part the next day, and expresly forbad them after that from coming to speak to him of any affair, if it were not directly from the Grand Signior; intending to
employ the small time he had resting, in talking with Isabella. Never was conversation so
sad as theirs; and seeing that which they had resolved upon even ready to be executed, they
almost repented them of the design they had undertaken. Ibrahim would not willingly have parted, aud yet prepared to part. And the Princess in testifying to him that she could wish he
would not abandon her, spake to him of their farewel and separation. Remember, said she






unto him, that in the War, whither you are going, you must have a care, not only of your own
life, but of mine. Think not so much of the victory, as not to think of preserving your self:
And to oblige you thereunto, remember every time you go to fight, that in defending your
life, you defend Isabella's; that upon your return depends her felicity; and that if you love
her, you will not think so much of vanquishing, as to keep your self from being vanquished.
That can I never be, Madam, answered he, after so many glorious marks, which I receive of
your affection: And since in preserving mine own life, I shall preserve yours, there is no Enemy which can be redoubted of me, and which I shall not easily surmount. Remember yet,
Madam, that on Victory our happiness depends; that to obtain it I must expose my self to
peril; that in all other things Fortune gives the good that she does, but in War Crowns must
be violently pluck'd out of the hands of Victory, if one may be permitted to speak so. One
must fight to remain Master of the field; one must give an example for the Soldiers to follow
and put ones self in jeopardy of being vanquished for to be victorious. I tell you all these
things, Madam, to the end you may not take it ill, if I dare assure you, that I will not remember you, but to fight with the more courage. You are a captive for the love of me, it is
for me then to deliver you, and therefore do not enjoyn me to manage my life with so much
care. But, Madam, without anticipating our miseries through fear; and without encreasing
those, which we feel through the apprehension of those which peradventure will never arrive
unto us, tell me, I beseech you, whether you can forgive me all the evils which I have been
the cause of to you, if you do not represent unto your self how you have favorable received
the affection of a man, who was once reckoned amongst your enemies, and who by a strange
fate in ceasing to be so, hath been the occasion of more misery to you in adoring you, then
all your cruellest adversaries, purposing to hurt you, could have done. Do not charge your self
with the crimes of Fortune, said she unto him, and beleeve that I am generous enough to distinguish the guilty from the innocent, and never to remember the evils which I have suffered,
without remembring those withall, which you have endured for me. I am as faulty towards
Justiniano, as Justiniano is towards Isabella; or to say better, we are equally innocent; and
our innocency it may be causes our persecution, since it is ordinary with Fortune to fall foul
upon none but vertuous persons. I hope nevertheless, added she, that Heaven will ere long
give an end to our ciptivity, or to our lives. Is we were, concinued Isabella, in the hands of
a Prince, that used us ill, and laded us wieh irons, I should methinks have the more consolation,
for in murmuring against the Tyrant that persecuees us there is some to be found: But this
Prince, who keeps us capcives, does it not bue because he loves you; and the rigor of my d^
stiny is so great, as I must commend that in him, which is the cause of all my misery.
It was in this manner that these two illustrious infortunace persons entertained one
another until night, when as they parted, more out of civility, then for any desire they had to
The next morning the grand Visier went to take his leave of his Highness, intending to defer
his bidding adieu to Isabella, and giving his last thoughts to one, to whom he had given all
his heart, as long as possibly he could. Soliman received him with an unquietness, which he
took for a mark of his grief to see him depart, but to speak truly of things it was the last combat which he had in his Soul. The remorse of his crime, and the shame of his weakness, had
like to have carried him once more to repent him; nevertheless love was still victorious over
this illustrious Conqueror. This Prince then imbraced Ibrahim, after he had talked with him about the War, and had given him an absolute power to treat of all things without advertizing him thereof; and preventing what the Bassa was going to say to him, he allured him
that Isabella should be served during his absence in all respects, as the Sultana Queen; and
that he had given order for Charets to bring her and all her Slaves to the old Serraglio, where
the Sultana Asteria should have a particular care to entertain her. After this, he dismissed
Ibrahim, who went to the Bassa of the Seas Palace, to will him to set sail as soon as he could,
in regard the Squadrons of Metelin, of Rhodes, of Ciprus, and Alexandria, were already
joyned together; and that with all this Fleet he should steer his course for Mingrelia. This
order given, he returned to his Palace, where he found the Charets, which the Grand Signior
had sent, to carry Isabella to the old Serraglio. And whereas the hour of parting pressed
him, he went to the Princesses chamber to advertise her of it, and to desire her that he might
conduct her to the place, which was to serve for a sanctuary to her, during his absence. She





granted him his desire, without knowing almost what she did, so extream was her grief.
And after a conversation as sad, as their Souls were afflicted, she reached him her hand, which
Ibrahim kissed, with as great a transport of grief, as of love. And conducting her with Emilia to the Charet, which was prepared for her, he went and accompanied her to the gace of the
old Serraglio, where they took their last farewell.
It was at this instant that they felt that which cannot be exprest; You had reason indeed,
said the Princes to him, to steal away from me when you left me at Monaco, and to save me
the grief of bidding you farewell; but I do not know, said she unto him, whether you have
any now to make me prove it. Is it your pleasure then, Madam, answered he, that I shall not
part? No, replyed she, do not you stick at what I say, it is only grief that makes me speak:
Go and break our chains, carry a stronger heart then I, and that you may not augment my
weakness, do not oblige me to bid you farewell. As she was saying so, the gates of the Serraglio opened, and Ibrahim, seeing himself constrained to quit tier in a place where men never come, assured her at this last instant, that he would quickly return a Conqueror. The
Charet was no sooner entred, but he mounted on horseback, and without speaking a word
more to any body, he went out of Constantinople with his Train, to overtake the Troops,
which were marching towards Persia, carrying in his heart the most sensible affliction, that
ever he had tryed. He had this advantage nevertheless over the Princess, that he could entertain his thoughts without interruption, but it was not so with her. For as soon as she had
been conducted to a stately lodging, which was prepared for her, the grand Signiors Mother,
although she hated Ibrahim, came to visit her followed by all the Sultanaes, thereby to please
Soliman, who had intreated her unto it. The Sultana Asteria, as the favorite of the Emperor her father, had been permitted to learn the Italian Tongue, after the goodwill she had
born to Ibrahim had made her to desire it; so as it was she that held up the conversation in
this visit, and that expressed the compliments of the other Sultanaes to Isabella, who received them with a great deal of civility, although the extream grief she was in might have
dispenced her from it. But whereas Asteria had address and wit, and knew that Isabella
was afflicted, she so ordered the matter as this visit was not long. The Sultanaes went away
then charmed with the beauty of the Princess; and Asteria found her self as much inclined
to serve her, as she had been beforetime to save the life of Ibrahim. It is true that though
they were all gone but this last, yet was not Isabella at liberty to think of her misfortunes;
For the Sultan sent the Bostangibassi, who is as it were the Superintendant of the Gardens,
and one of the chiefest of the Port, to present her with three maunds of Gold engraven, full
of flowers and fruits manured with his Highness own hand; the Religion of the Grand Signior, obliging them as well as their Subjects, to labor in some work, that may gain their living; it being unjust, as they beleeve, for them to be nourished at the peoples charge. And whereas
agriculture hath something delightful in it, and that the gardens of the Serraglio are the fairest
in the world, Soliman to satisfie both the custom, and his Religion, which requires it, had
many times watered with his own hand the flowers which he sent to Isabella. He gave her
to understand, that had it not been for fear of incommoding her, he would have come and
comforted her for the departure of Ibrahim.
The Princess received these presents and civilities with a great deal of respect, and desired the Bostangibassi by the mouth of the Sultana Asteria, to tell the Grand Signior, that if there had not been too much presumption in letting her self be perswaded, that he would do her the honor to visit her, she would have testified unto him how dear this glory was unto her; but not daring to hope for it, she contented her self with assuring his Highness, that she would share in all the obligations wherein the grand Visier stood engaged unto him, and that in her particular she would all the days of her life be very sensible of them. The Bostangibassi being gone, she craved pardon of the Sultana Asteria for the trouble she had put her to in serving her for her an Interpreter: and that she might find occasion to talk to her of Ibrahim with civility, she thanked her for saving of his life in times past, told her, that in consideration thereof she owed her all things, and since Ibrahim could not acknoledg it to her himself, it was for her to do it. Asteria, who certainly had wit, generosity, and more address then the retirement wherein she lived seemed to permit, answered her, that her sight and acquaintance recompenced her beyond that which the service she had rendered her deserved. That pity, being a sense so natural to the sex whereof she was, she merited no great glory for having had



compassion of so gallant and handsom a man as Ibrahim. For, continued she, although I know
very well, that they talk amongst the Christians of us, as if we were barbarous; yet I can assure you, that this rule is not so general, but it hath exceptions: And pity, which is a thing
quite opposite to that which is beleeved of us, is one of the first precepts of our Religion; it
extends even to unreasonable creatures; and there are found amongst us such careful Observers of the Law, as they buy up Birds to let them fly. Judg after this, whether that which I
have done, deserves to be ranked in the number of extraordinary things; and whether contrarily there had not been cause to wonder, if seeing a man carried to dye, whose countenance
so little resembled a Slaves, or Malefactors, I should not have had the thought to save him.
And then again, added she, if anyone ought to recompence me for this action, it must be
the Sultan, since I have preserved him a man, whose brave actions have rendred his Empire
famous, and whose merit and conversation hath made up all his felicity ever since he was here.
For as for you, continued she, I do not see how you are obliged to me; if I had been contented with saving of Ibrahim's life, you might well have said so; but since it was I that was the cause of the Sultan's seeing, loving him, and retaining him in his service, methinks I ought rather to demand pardon of you for robbing you of him, then to attend thanks for his
preservation.
Isabella, who did not think that Asteria was acquainted with all her history, knew not
how to answer her, which the Sultana perceiving, desired her not to marvel if she understood by her discourse, that she was not ignorant of all her adventures. She told her then
how the Sultan her father had been almost constrained to impart them unto her, for a reason
which she would tell her another time, it being unjust to keep her any longer from the liberty
of lamenting an absence, which could not chuse but be very grievous unto her. Isabella
was so satisfied with the civility and wit of Asteria, that she felt some consolation, in finding a
reasonable person in a place, where she imagined there had been nothing but stupidity; so that
to oblige her she requested her with a great deal of tenderness and respect not to leave her for
that reason, nor to defer to another time the acquainting her with that, which she would fain
hear, although she knew it. Asteria then recounced unto her, what Ibrahim had already told her,
namely, that Soliman had purposed to have married her to him; but she particularizing the matter further unto her, in letting her know, how this business had not been so hastily earned, but
that some days were past, after the Grand Signior had spoken to her of it, when as Ibrahim's
discourse obliged him, to propound it sooner unto him then he had intended. That whereas he
could not foresee how this marriage should be disagreeable to Ibrahim, he had resolved to
have had her conducted to his Palace upon the day of his Triumph, to the end he might do the
more honor to the grand Visier, but that he had been hindred from it by a Persian, named
Alibech, who came to demand Justice of him against the Bassa of the Sea, and had kept him
till it was night in the Hipodrome. That having learnt all these things from the Sultan's
own mouth, and seeing afterwards that nothing came of all this, she had cast her self at Soliman's feet, and besought him to let her know, for what cause Ibrahim had refused her; and
that after many intreaties, having had experience of her discretion in other encounters, he had
declared unto her the truth of the matter. That after this she had far more esteemed of the
Bassa then before; and that his fidelity to her had in such sort touched her heart, as far from
being incensed against him for the refusal he had made of her, she had commended him for it
in her talk with Soliman. Do not disquite your self, said this Sultana to Isabella, if I
dare say to you, that I have been your Rival; that Ibrahim's glory had touched my inclination; and that I could have resolved with joy to have been his wise; since I had not thus
opened my heart unto you, if it had not been free enough to offer you all manner of service,
and to assure you, that that which I felt for the Bassa could not be named Love, but a simple desire to marry a gallant and vertuous man. Do not regard me then as your Rival, seeing that
could not be without hatred, but as a person that hath no stronger a passion, then to serve
Ibrahim in you. You are too generous, answered Isabella, and Ibrahim too happy, for him to be indebted to you. I should condemn him nevertheless, continued she, for not failing in his fidelity to me, had he had the honor to know you, but his misfortune hath made him commit this fault: Do not accuse him then 
for want of judgment in preferring my conservation before your Conquest, since his ignorance hath been the cause of it; and seeing you
know my whole life as well as I, lament us without accusing us  But what say I, added Isa-bella reprehending her self, rather admire Ibrahim's good fortune, in that he could oblige
you to save his life, and afterwards gain the affection of the greatest Prince of the Earth; and
to joyn our good fortunes, as our interests are joyned, I must add further, in having procured
me the honor of your acquaintance.
This conversation, having lasted an indifferent long time, combined the Sultana Asteria
and the Princes in so strait a league of friendship, as they were almost inseparable, to long as
Isabella continued in the old Serraglio. The day after she was come thither, Soliman visited her, and by this last sight made the chains which captived him stronger then before. The
incertainty he was in, wholly ceased; and the combat which he had in his heart, between his
friendship to the grand Visier, and the passion he was in for Isabella, was at an end; and
love remaining ablolutely victorious, his mind had some more peaceable moments, so that he
had no other thought, then of the Conquest of Isabella. But whereas he knew, that to make
himself be beloved, he must first please, he complyed so far with her, as not to speak of any
thing but Ibrahim in this first visit. He craved pardon of the Princess for being the cause of
his absence from her; he desired her not to remember it was he that caused her to be brought
away by force; and to think that she was in a place, where she might absolutely command;
where she should see no body but that would obey and serve her with joy. Isabella answered to so obliging a discourse with all the civility and acknowledgment she was capable of:
but whereas she was sad, though she constrained her self to seem otherwise, he intreated her
to be as merry as she could, for fear lest melancholy diminishing her beauty, it might be layd
to his charge, that he had but ill preserved so rare a thing.
The Princess having promised him all that he desired, he went away very much satisfied,
and very amorous, and left her with as great an esteem of him, as Ibrahim could not have
more. And whereas Asteria seldom abandoned her, she talked to her the rest of the day of
nothing but of the admiration she was in of Soliman, of the vertues of this Prince, of the
greatness of his spirit, of that exceeding and generous friendship, which he testified to our illustrious Baasa.
After this first visit there were nothing but magnificences in the old Serraglio. Soliman
sent every day new presents to Isabella; and in consideration of her to the Sultanaes, which
lived in the same place, for fear left envying her they should come to hate her, and so lose the
care of pleasing her. And whereas there passed not a day, wherein this Prince did not visit
Isabella, Roxelana, who knew him to the very bottom of his heart, quickly perceived the
true reason that caused these visits. Yet did not jealousie seize upon her Soul for all that; and
the only design of making use of this occasion to destroy Ibrahim, and to labor the re-establishment of Rustan, was that which made her work in the manner, as shall be seen in the sequel of this discourse. But for as much as the grand Signiors Mother hated Ibrahim, because
she loved Roxelana, she communicated her suspicions unto her, and they both concluded, that
in all likelyhood Soliman's assiduity was an effect o flove; and that if it were so, it would be
almost an insallible mean to destroy the grand Visier, who it was said was desperately in love
with this person. For coming to know this passion, he would questionless do things, which
would make him be banished, if he did not voluntarily banish himself.
Having held this secret counsel, Roxelana, far from troubling Soliman's designs, thought
of nothing else but making him more in love with the Princess; being not jealous but of her
authority, and fearing Ibrahim's power, much more then Isabella's beauty. And for this
effect, whereas there is scarce any faith in Turkey of proof against presents, she suborned one
of the Slaves, who went dayly to offer her some new liberality from the Sultan, to the end that
according to the occasions she might invent some obliging compliment to him from Isabella,
who ignorant of all these things, lived with as much content and rest, as the absence of the
grand Visier would permit her. Asteria had so great a care of her, and Soliman rendred her
to many devoirs, as she had scarcely any leasure to think of her misfortunes. In the mean
time the Sultan was not a little perplexed, out of the fear he was in to discover his love to the
Princess; for albeit he knew she esteemed him, yet he beleeved that it was as much for the
affection which he seemed to bear to the Bassa, as for his own merit. So that not daring as
yet to declare himself openly, he contented himself with praising her beauty, her wit and all
the excellent qualities which were in her, in talking to her of Ibrahim; and this name, which
had been so considerable with him, was employed against him that owed it. For so often as





he commanded Isabella, he would exagerate how happy Ibrahim was to be beloved of so
marvelous a person; what judgment Ibrahim had shewed in the choyce he had made of her;
and out of a malicious gallantry he told her many times, that Ibrahim was to blame for abandoning her at Monaco, to come and keep his word with him; that it was a great fault in him
to go to the Persian War, and not to dye with grief, rather then to quit her; that for him, if
he had been in his place, he would never have done so, thinking it a great deal sweeter to dye,
then to be absent from her. So artificial a discourse, was not for all that interpreted by
Isabella as Soliman desired, and without seeking for any hidden sense in it, she beleeved that it
was a pure effect of the Sultan's compliance, who thinking to please her, would talk to her of
Ibrahim in any manner whatsoever. In this ignorance, she always answered him very civilly,
and with a great deal of respect; so that interpreting in this sort all that Soliman said unto
her, she put him into an extream pain. For without telling her precisely, that he was in love
with her beauty, he would fain have had her perceive it; being so afraid to offend her, that
this fear peradventure might have wrought that in him, which Reason could not do, had it not
been for the messages, which the Slave whom Roxelana had suborned, at several times brought
him.
But whil'st Isabella talked of Soliman's generosity, all the Sultanaes had no other discourse
but of the love which he bore her. Asteria, perceiving it as well as the rest, and knowing to
what violences this passion carried the Grand Signior, was much afflicted at it, for Isabella's
interest, whom she exceedingly loved. This melancholy was quickly marked by the Princess,
and whereas her cares and her merie had given her an high place in her affection, she one day
conjured her to acquaint her with the cause of it. Asteria judging with reason, that if she should tell her the truth, it would very much grieve her, excused her self from it at first as well
as she could; but coming to consider, that it might be the ignorance wherein Isabella lived;
might further augment her unhappiness, she resolved to confide in her, and to impart unto her
the suspicions she had. That which made Asteria be interessed so strongly for all that concerned Ibrahim, as to forget the Sultan's interests, was because she had understood how
mightily he had protedcd Mustapha and Gianger her brothers, whom she had infinitely
loved; and how he had always opposed the violences of Roxelana, to whom she bore a secret hatred, whose chief foundation was in her proper vertue. Asteria, following her resolution, after she had prepared Isabella's mind by a long discourse, to make good use of the
advice she was going to give her, and after Isabella had on her side promised her all manner
of fidelity, told her, that knowing the Sultan her father, as she did, she feared lest her
beauty had possest him with more love for her, then he had friendship for Ibrahim; and
that at last his reason would be found weaker then his passion: That she desired to discover
her suspicions unto her, to the end she might through her prudence examine the matter, left
being altogether ignorant of it, she might increase the Grand Signior's unjust designs by innotent civilities.
At first this discourse surprized her, she changed colour ever and anon, and out of the
trouble she was in, she thought that Asteria spake not the truth, though she could not imgin any reasonable cause for this fiction. The Sultanaes ingenuity notwithstanding destroyed this
secret accusation, which she charged her within her heart; and passing from one extremity
to another, she in an instant justified not only Asteria, but Soliman also, and calling to
mind all that this Prince had done for Ibrahim, she beleeved that the Sultana gave an ill interpretation to the Grand Signiors civilities; and took that for testimonies of love, which
she was perswaded was but an effect of his friendship to Ibrahim. This last thought having
quieted her mind, she thanked Asteria for the care she had of her, commended her generosity and wisdom; and testified at last how she could not beleeve that so great a Prince, as Soliman, could be capable of letting himself be vanquished by so unjust a passion, as that was
whereof she spake. I wish it may be so, said the Sultana Asteria, both for the glory of
Soliman, and your content; but take heed, as I have already told you, that your beauty be
not more powerful in the Soul of the Grand Signior, then his friendship to Ibrahim. If that
should be true, replyed the Princess, it would rather be an effect of my unhappiness, then of
my beauty; but I profess unto you that I shall never resolve to accuse this Prince, till I am
forced thereunto by himself.
This conversation being ended, and the Sultana gone, Isabella found not her self so quiet;





howbeit Emilia confirmed her in the opinion, that Soliman's respects to her proceeded only
from friendship, in making her consider, that Asteria's conjecture was questionless grounded
on the belief of all the other Sultanaes, who supposed that the Grand Signior could not
have any affection for a woman, but straight it must be love; and who out of jealousie for
the presents that he sent her, and the civilities that he used to her, had imagined it could not be
otherwise. This reasoning carrying some likelyhood with it, comforted the Princess a little,
and after she had run over in her memory all that Soliman had said, she found, being willing
to deceive her self, that all his discourses and all his actions, might be interpreted to his advantage: yet saw she not so much certainty in all that she imagined, that she durst absolutely
rely upon it: and though she feared the sight of the Grand Signior, out of the doubt she was
in of finding him guilty, yet had she some instants, wherein she desired it, out of a hope of
justifying him.
Roxelana on her side, having communicated her design to Rustan, and he approving of it,
they thought of nothing but of augmenting Soliman's love to Isabella, by the obliging messages, which that suborned Slave delivered to him dayly. It was at the same time, when as
there were three marvelous beautiful Slaves presented to the Sultan, who without being ever
a whit touched with their charms, had refused them, if he had not by chance demanded of
them whence they were; but having understood that they were of Italy, he retained them
with a purpose to bestow them on Isabella, seeking after nothing with more care, then to
please her. He went then to visit her, after he had commanded that those three Slaves should
be carryed into the old Serraglio: And whereas Asteria's discourse to her had rendred her
more melancholique then she used to be, he marvelled at it, and by his much pressing her to
let him know the cause thereof, he made the Princess apprehend, that the Sultana's suspicions were justly grounded; yet destroyed she her self, this her own opinion; and having answered the Grand Signior, that her melancholy was derived from the remembrance of her
past misfortunes, rather then from any other reason, he desired her to forget them, and not
to render her self unhappy with things, which would never arrive to her again. He told her
afterwards, that to comfort and delight her, he had chosen her out three Slaves, which it may be
would not be disagreeable unto her; and would understand her orders better then the others
which had been given her, because they were of her own Country. Isabella answered thereunto very civilly, and the Grand Signior having coramanded them to be brought in, the Princess was strangely surprized, when she saw that these three Slaves were Sophronia the sister
of Leonora, Leonida, Alphonso's Mistress, and Hippolita, Doria's sister. She had no sooner
perceived them, but she gave a great skriek, then turning her self to Soliman, May it please
thy Highness to pardon me, said she unto him, if I lose the respect which I owe unto thee, and
if the joy to see persons that are so dear to me, is stronger in me then good manners. In saying so, after she had made a low obeysance to the Sultan, she went and embraced her dear
friends; who were no less amazed and glad then she, to encounter her in a place, where they hoped for no consolation.
This first complement being over, Isabella once again besought the Grand Signior to pardon her, if friendship and surprizal had constrained her to fail in that which she owed to him.
The incomparable Isabella, answered he, can owe nothing to any body; and in what place
of the world soever the can be, she can never want Slaves. This civility is too excessive,
replying the Princess blushing, and I shall hold my self infinitely obliged to thy Highness, if thou wilt give me for companions these three fair maids, whom Fortune hath made thy Slaves. I have already said, answered he, that Isabella may command absolutely; and I swear unto her further, how there is but one onely thing, which she may not obtain of me.After this speech, whereof the Princess durst not demand the explication, Soliman would needs know of her, whether these three beautiful persons were of Genoua, as well as they were of Italy; and when she had informed him that they were, he used a great deal of civility towards them; and enquiring of Hipolita where her brother was, he understood that he and three of his friends were Slaves at Constantinople. My Lord, said Isabella unto him presently, in casting her self at his feet, I humbly beseech thy Highness to grant them their liberty. We have not used to refuse Isabella any thing, said he unto her, lifting her up; and without enquiring who Doria's friends be, I declare them free; and in what hands soever they are, their chains shall be instantly broken. Sophronia, Hipolita, and Leonida would




have fallen on their knees to render him thanks, but he not permitting it, told them, how it
was Isabella they were to thank, and not him. And having demanded of them, to whom
their friends were Slaves, they answered, that he which presented them to his Highness could
tell to whom he had sold them.
The Grand Signior, desiring to oblige the Princess in all things, went away for to leave her
at liberty to entertain her dear friends, and to take order for the delivery of those Slaves
whom she had recommended unto him. When he was gone, embraces and civilities began
afresh between Isabella and these three fair maids: Emilia likewise testified the satisfaction
which she had to see them; but in the midst of their first apprehensions of joy, the remembrance of their pleasures past, made them shed tears of sorrow. They demanded of one another, by what adventure they were met together in the same place; and being scarce able to
beleeve what they saw was true, their amazement redoubled every moment. The desire of
demanding one thing was lost by the curiosity of knowing another, and going both at once
to ask the Princess questions, and to answer those which she asked of them, neither of them
answered precisely to each other. Howbeit the Princess understood that those Friends, which
were Slaves, as well as Doria, were Horatio, the French Marquis, and Alphonso. She desired to hear some news of the Count of Lavagna, and of Leonora his wife, but Sophronia
told her sighing, that she should know their adventures too soon; and Hipolita added, that
in a day wherein Fortune had done them so great a grace, it was not fit to remember so many
misfortunes.
In the mean time Isabella, who feared lest the name of Serraglio should disquiet them, and
make them conceive somthing to her disadvantage, acquainted them with the difference which
there was between the old Serraglio, and that of the Grand Signior's women. And whereas in her discourse she many times named Ibrahim without thinking of it, and spake of him,
as of a man, in consideration of whom the Sultan favored her, Sophronia demanded of her,
who this Ibrahim was? This question made the Princess blush, but at length she informed
them that this Ibrahim was Justiniano; it seeming unto her, that in the estate wherein their
fortune stood, it was not requisite to make a secret of his adventures to them. This novelty
equally surprized Hipolita, Leonida, and Sophronia; not being able to imagine, but that
all which they were told was any other then a fiction: Their own experience forced them
notwithstanding to beleeve, that what had been imparted to them was true, there being no
more difficulty in giving credit to that which was arrived to them, then to that which had
happened to Isabella.
When it was almost Evening, the Bostangibassi came to the Princess from Soliman, to tell
her, that according to her order (for he was commanded to speak to her in those terms) he
had caused Horatio, Doria, and Alphonso to be delivered; but for the other, he could not
possibly learn as yet where he was; that all he could understand of him was, how in less then a
month he had changed his Master nine or ten times; but he besought her not to be troubled
at it, assuring her that he would the next day make a general review of all the Slaves in Constantinople, rather then fail in finding out of him, whom she desired to have: That moreover, the Sultan was very sorry he could not leave with her the three persons, which he had
presented unto her, out of a belief that they should have been her Slaves; for in regard they
were not to be intreated so, it would be the abusing both of their Religion and Custom, to
let so many persons of a free condition, and of a faith differing from his, be in the old Serraglio. Howbeit, not to deprive her altogether of a conversation that was so agreeable to her,
she might go every day and visit them at Ibrahim's Palace, where their friends were already
attending for them, and whither he had order to conduct them; assuring her that they should
be served there with as much care, as respect. The Princess received this news with a great
deal of grief; and she would fain have obliged him that brought her this message, to have
gone and besought his Highness from her, that he would permit her to accompany her friends
to the Grand Visiers Palace; but he answered her, that the order which had been given him
was absolute, and how he could do no other then execute it.
Isabella it may be would have redoubled her intreaties, had not the Sultana Asteria arrived: who having been informed of the estate of things, counselled her not to exasperate
the minde of Soliman, and to comply with him in this particular, which he did not desire of
her without some reason; it being very certain that it was altogether extraordinary to see





persons, that were free and Christians, in the old Serraglio. Isabella, who knew the vertue and discretion of Asteria, resolved to yeeld to that which was desired of her, in taking leave of her dear friends; who left her with tears in their eyes, having this comfort notwithstanding that they were going to meet, not onely with their Brothers, but with their Lovers also;
for Time, Fortune, and Slavery, had not changed their hearts: Horatio, Sophronia's Brother,
loved Hipolita still; so did Doria, Hipolita's Brother, Sophronia; and in like manner Alphonso continued constant to Leonida. But for Isabella, she remained without any consolation, but that which was given her by the hope she had to go the next day and visit these fair
infortunate ones, whose encounter had possessed her with as much grief, as joy, both by the
thought that they were not Slaves, and the displeasure she was in for being so soon deprived
of their sight.
The Fifth Book.IT was no sooner day, but Isabella sent to desire permission of the Grand Signior, that she
might go and visit her dear friends, which he durst not deny, so much was he afraid to
displease her; He repented him nevertheless for having made Hipolita, Sophronia, and Leonida go out of the Serraglio; and feared lest that which he had done for his content should
destroy it; for it was true, that he was not carryed thereunto, so much by the requisiteness
of things, as the doubt he was in, that he should not be able to speak to the Princess in private, so long as they were with her. Isabella then, having obtained the permission which
she had demanded, went to Ibrahim's Palace with as much magnificence, as is she had been
the Sultana Queen. Horatio, Alphonso, Leonida, Sophronia, and Hipolita, received her
with exceeding satisfaction, yet was it less for all that then Doria's, who having understood
from his sister, that Justiniano was in that Country, was in so extraordinary an impatience to
know by what adventure he was come thither again, as he had scarcely made his first complement, when as he conjured her to acquaint him with it: But she, that was in no less to understand his, and those of his friends, and by what hap they were arrived there, told him,
that he should not know it, till he had informed her what good or had fortune had conducted them to Constantinople. Hipolita and Horatio protested, that that was the least thing
they could pay her for the liberty which she had given them. As for Sophronia, she consented
not without regret to this sad and pitiful relation, well foreseeing that so lamentable a discourse would cost her many a tear: howbeit she desired at least, that Doria might be he who
might recount their misfortunes, it being impossible for her to do it. Doria, not using to resist Sophronia, was preparing to obey her, when as Horatio told his sister, that it would be
unjust to oblige him to this relation, by reason of the name he bore; and albeit that they
which were mingled in this adventure were his Enemies, yet were they still his Kinsmen.
Doria answered thereunto smiling, that Lovers had no others but those of their Mistresses:
But in the end Alphonso was the man that contented the curiosity of Isabella. As soon as
for the honor of Ibrahim's Palace, she had led them into his Cabinet, and that they were set
down there, Alphonso, addressing himself to Isabella, began to speak in this manner.
The History of GIOVANNI LODOVICO Count of LAVAGNA.SEeing our misfortunes, and your retirement, have made you almost a stranger in your own
Country; and that your absence hath kept you since from knowing our mishaps, I will
content your curiosity, and recount all this story unto you, as if you had not been born at Genoua, and that all the persons, of whom I am to speak, were unknown to you; Yet have you not forgotten, as I think, that the Family of the Fiesques, being one of the noblest, and most illustrious of all Italy, as having twice furnished a head to all Christendom, given so many Cardinals to Rome, and so many great men to the world, was that also which Andrea Doria had always most dreaded, ever since that action which made him merit the having of a





Statue at Genova. They that intermeddle with the knowledg of things, and that judg not
of intentions by appearances and events, will not have the designs of Andrea Doria to be always so dis-interested, as they have appeared unto us; but in fine, this is not a place, where
I am to tell you what the Count beleeved concerning him: As for me, that ever speaks sincerely of things, I hold that his intentions were as fair as his enterprize.
But to come to that which I am to impart to you, and to keep you from being too much
surprized by the Counts last action, I am to tell you, that although in appearance he was the
sweetest, the civilest, the gallantest, and of the freest and most peaceable disposition that ever
had been seen, and that he gave himself to all the exercises of a man of his quility, wherein
he had profited admirably, yet had he an imperious spirit, and was always possest with some
great design. Ambition, and the desire of glory, were his predominant passions, and the only things for which he did all others. His education did not contribute ought to these thoughts;
for whereas he remained yet young enough under the government of his Mother, who was
the most ambitious woman that ever was, she gave him a part of her inclinations. He had
had for his Governor one named Pensa, by Sinibaldo his fathers appointment, whose manners were wholly noble, and that had instructed him in all the fairest knowledges, which a
person of his condition might have. But this man being too moderate for the bringing up of
the Count according to his mothers designs, she placed another about him, but yet without
removing the former, to the end that if the one taught him the Sciences, the other should
teach him not to make use of them, but to arrive at the height of soveraign greatness. These
two men being opposite in all things, gave him also quice contrary counsels. The first made
him in the Roman History observe the noble actions of those, who had exposed themselves
for the safety of the Commonwealth; and the other made him oftentimes read the Conspiracy
of Catiline, the lives of Tiberius and Nero; Nevertheless whereas the Counts inclinations
were too vertuous to love crimes, he followed not the advice of this same; but his Soul being withall too ambitious to be confined within the directions of Pensa, he took a third way,
and loved nothing so much as the reading of the lives of Alexander and Cæsar, especially of
this last; and he was wont to say, that they which had called him Tyrant were to blame;
since he can never be so, that aspires not to the soveraign power, but for the using of it well;
and they which found themselves capable of governing people, were responable to Heaven for
not imploying a Talent, which might be advantagious to all the world.
These discourses were not at that time considered but by his Mother, who took incredible
delight therein: but at length, the Count, being arrived at seventeen years of age, saw Leonora, the sister of Julio and Horatio Cibo, in an assembly, where Jannetin Doria, the Nephew and Favorite of Andrea Doria, was present as well as he. You have without doubt
observed, that Leonora, though gentle and civil, had for all that a majestick reservedness,
which shewed in her behavior that she had something of great in her Soul. I tell you this,
Madam, to let you know withall, that it was with this charm, rather then with her beauty,
that she began to please the Count. He regarded and observed her with care; and seeing
nothing in all her actions, that was not both extream civil, and a little imperious, he began to
love her, and so much the more ardently, because he knew that this alliance would not be disadvantageous to him; if he sought after either nobility of race, or commodity of riches, for
that being born of a first wife of her fathers, she was her only heir. But if Leonora was agreable to the eyes of the Count, it may be said, that he seemed charming to Leonora's: and verily I must acknowledg, that I never saw him so amiable, as in this assembly; and if I must
speak the truth, I do not beleeve that there can scarce be found in one only person greater quality then he had. And for agreeable things, it may be well assured, that never man was more
proper to make himself be beloved. His beauty, his good aspect, his conversation, his compliance, his merry and jovial humor, his address in dancing, in playing on the Lute, in singing, in riding, and all other things that can give any liking, rendred him incomparable. You
may judg after this, whether Leonora, who had not her heart engaged otherwhere,
could refuse the affection of a man, in whom she found all that she could wish for.
This springing affection was soon known of everyone, but especially of Andrea Doria,
who was advertised thereof in a time, when as the Count could not yet tell very well himself,
whether he loved Leonora or no: for the first time that he began to consider her with in-




differency, was on the day of that assembly, which I have spoken to you of already, and where Jannetin was present, who always regarding the Count as his Competitor had perceived it, and therewith acquainted his Uncle. We have learnt since, that Andrea Doria no sooner understood the
Counts designs: for, said he unto him raising up his voyce, it is fit for us to observe this young
Lion. He is undertaking, and hardy, and if we suffer him to gather new forces, by allying
with the house of Cibo, and Leonora's riches, he will be capable of enterprizing any thing.
Jannetin harkened to this discourse as one that was interessed therein, and obeying Andrea's
order, he observed the Count and Leonora, and confirmed himself in the opinion he had had,
both by his own knowledg, and the talk of the Town. Being in no longer doubt then but
that the Count was in love with Leonora, he advertised his Uncle of it, who without further
delay commanded him to be the Counts Rival in this suit. It would not be enough, said he to
Jannetin, if we soould but break off the Counts marriage; but we must make profit of his
damage, and pluck the weapons out of his hands, to destroy him therewith when we are Masters of them. You must marry Leonora, she is fair and amiable; but were she only noble
and rich, it would be enough to oblige you to marry her. Think of it then, Jannetin; you
are young as well as the Count, you have spirit and courage, and though it may be you have
not so good a grace as he, yet you are Nephew to Andrea Doria, and that is to say every
thing. Think then of winning Leonora's heart, before it be engaged; but above all, come
to no violence; for it imports much, that the adoptive son of him, who hath restored Genoua
to her liberty, should not engage him to protect him in such like things. Jannetin, who
held all his fortune from Andrea Doria, and who reverenced him more then if he had been
his father, promised him to forget nothing of all that should lie in his power to satisfie him;
as indeed, all that care and magnificence could contribute to gallantry, appeared in Genoua
at that time; and had not your melancholy retained you then at Monaco, you would have
acknowledged as well as we, that the like had never been seen.
But whereas the Count could not give place to any body, be no sooner understood Jannetin's design, but he overtopped him in all things. There was nothing but running at the
Ring, Turneys, Serenades, Balls, and Feasts; and in all things if the Count was not more
magnificent, yet was he more gentile. His apparel was braver, his horses were gallanter
his matches better made, his serenades better contorted; in fine, he hud the advantage in all
things. And whereas he loved Leonora really, all the testimonies he gave her of it, wrought
another effect in her heart, then the feigned protestations of Jannetin, who prevailed not
with her at all. Things contmued a while in this manner, during the which these two Rivals
lived civilly enough together, as well by reason of the order which Jannetin had received for
it, as of Leonora's prudence, and the Counts address, who never made shew of perceiving
his Rials designs; though each of them did for his part all that he could to destroy his enemy.
But at last Love and Fortune ceased to be blind to this occasion, and gave the prize to him that
best deserved it.
The Count had Leonora's permission to demand her of her brothers under whose government she had been ever since the death of her mother; he was their particular friend, so
that upon the first overture which he made to them of it, they received him with incredible
joy, and assured him (especially Horatio, who was more a friend to the Count then Julio)
provided their sister did not oppose his content, that he was certain to be happy. The Count,
who was no less discreet then passionate, would not let them know that their consent was craved to a thing already resolved, but only told them, that from their mouths he desired to understand Leonora's mind, and from them receive either his good or bad fortune. In the mean time Jannetin found that Leonora favored the Count to his prejudice, yea and that she was resolved never to marry any but him. He thought fit to advertise Andrea Doria of it, who came to know by another, to whom the Counts mother had told it, that he had spoken of his marraige to Horatio, who had answered her favorably, which Andrea Doria understanding, he told Jannetin, that he was to conserve with address the friendship of him, whom he could not destroy by force; and one of the greatest effects of prudence was, when one could not vanquish his enemies, to constrain them to be his friend; and not being otherways able to keep them from hurting, one must, continued he, tye their hands with a false






generosity, especially when one hath for opposite an illustrious adversary, such as the Count is.
Go then, Jannetin, said he unto him, give up a victory, which you are not able to carry away; and making shew as though you come to learn that he hath a design for Leonora, tell
him that you prefer his content before your love, and so as he will be your friend, you will
yeild him your Mistress with joy: But so order the matter, that this may be heard by some,
to the end that the Count knowing how the world beleeves he is obliged to you, may also in
consideration of the world, and for fear of being blamed, live hereafter with you, as if he were
your friend. Madam, do not think it strange, that I should know so many particularities of
Andrea Doria's discourses; but be pleased to understand, that a friend doth not so well
know what is done in his friends house, as mighty enemies do ordinarily know what they
project one against another: yet was it not equally so between the Count and Andrea Doria, it being certain that this last knew nothing of the Counts designs, what care soever he
took for it; whereas he on the contrary could conceal none of his from him.
But to come again to Jannetin, he had been no sooner instructed by his Uncle, but he
went home to the Count, who attended with a great deal of impatience the answer which
Horatio was to make him, for it was he who had in charge to give it him, he quitted this
musing humor to receive Jannetin's visit with his ordinary civility; and according to Andrea Doria's direction, three of Jannetin's friends arrived at the same time to be witnesse of these
two Rivals conversation. After the first complements, Jannetin told the Count, that he
came not only to render him a visit, but also to render him up his arms, and to demand the
grace of him, that he might be one of the captives of his Triumph. I know not, answered
the Count, what Triumph you mean. It is a Triumph, replyed Jannetin, wherein for a
Trophy of Arms you shall have all the chains of the Lovers of the incomparable Leonora; who
knowing that you alone merit her, wilt follow you without regret or envy; at leastwise I am
come hither to assure you, that that is my intention: and if I had known that you had born
an affection to her, I would have been your Confident, rather then your Rival; yet am I
not sorry, that I have had the commodity to testifie unto you, that nothing in the world is
so dear to me as your friendship.
The Count understood presently Jannetin's cunning, yet would make no shew of it, but
contrarily answered him with a great deal of civility and gallantry. I thought, said he unto
him, that I had nothing to vanquish but the rigors of my Mistress, and if I had beleeved that
I had had so redoubtable a Rival as you, I had not it may be undertaken to serve her: But
since you are so obliging, as to content your self with meriting her, without pretending to her
possession, I am ravished to know that you have judged her worthy of your esteem; and to
understand that I shall have nothing more then her cruelty to surmount, since if you had continued serving her, and that she had been just, I should in your triumph have held the place,
which you demand in mine; and which I do not grant you, seeing he that yeilds up a victory
cannot be said to have been overcome. Jannetin, hearing the Count speak in this sort, beleeved, that his cunning had succeeded, and took that for a testimony of friendship and freedom, which was but an address of his wit; and that not having been able to vanquish him in
love, he had at least surmounted him in subtlety, and was arrived at the end he had propounded to himself. But the Count was too clear sighted to be deceived so easily; and whereas the
most dexerous guile is that which perswades our enemies that they have beguiled us, though
indeed we are not; the Count said so many obliging things to Jannetin, as he made no doubt
at all, but that he had abused his enemy; and that from thence-forward he would count himself effectively his obliged: nevertheless it proved not so, as you will understand by the sequel
of this discourse.
In the mean time Horatio came to the Count, and having at first embraced him in naming
him brother, he absolutely assured him of Leonora's consent. But not to stand relating to you
the rejoycings of a time, whose felicicy is so far from that which we have past since, I will
only tell you, that a little while after the nuptials of the Count and Leonora were celebrated.
You were invited, but you would not quit your solitude to come and see the magnificences of
that feast. Jannetin was the forwardest of all the City, to testifie the joy he was in for that
of the Count, who afterwards served him in his suit to her whom he married; and lived always with him, as if he had been one of his dearest friends, albeit in his heart he had quite
contrary thoughts.
The Counts Mother was ravished with her sons marriage; Leonora was infinitely contented; Julio seemed satisfied; Horation esteemed himself very happy in it; and Sophronia
was so much the more pleased with it, for that being of an age wherein delights, Musick, and
company make up the happiness of a life, she found all these things in the Counts Palace, where
she lived with her sister after her marriage; for it might be said, that this house was the retreat
of all worthy persons, and of all pleasures, which made the Count to be loved of every one.
In the mean time the prosperous success of his love, had not smothered his ambition, but contrarily his esteem of Leonora seemed to have augmented it; and Sophronia hath assured us,
how she hath often heard him say, that his Fortune was not worthy of her. This generous
Soul had not it may be for all that been ever capable of the resolution which he took, though
he beleeved it to be just, if the counsels of three men, who did but flatter his ambition to satisfie their own, had not confirmed him in that design. And truly it must be acknowledged,
that one hath never heard speak of an enterprize so daring in so young an age, of a prudence
so extraordinary for the conduct of so dangerous a thing, and of a success, equal to his, if Fortune had not abandoned him.
But, Madam, to make you acknowl dg that which I say, you are to understand, that about
two years ago the Count finding himself ill for certain days together, went as he used oftentimes to do into his Cabinet, whither his ambitious mother came to him, for to acquaint him,
that Andrea Doria, who had adopted Jannetin for his son and successor a good while before,
had then made him his Lievtenant to the charge he held of Generalissimo: And all this, continued she, whilest you are denyed the pensions which the Republique gave Sinibaldo your father ; for it was true, that as long as he lived the Senate had assigned him a pension for a mark
of honor, which had not been continued to the Count, because he had been suspeded by Andrea Doria, an enemy of the French, to be affected to that Nation.
In the mean time to return unto my subject, the Count had no sooner heard what his Mother said unto him, but would have answered, when as she staying him told him roundly,
think before thou speakest of saying nothing to me unworthy of thy self, or of me that brought
thee into the world, and know that I will disavow thee for my son, if thou be so base, as to
be contented with thy fortune, and to endure, that they, who do not outgo thee either in
birth or merit, should mount into the Throne, and leave thee amongst the people. This discourse netted the great heart of the Count, who was but too sensible on that part, yet concealed he his resentment within himself, and said no more to his Mother, but that all he could
promise her was, how he would absolutely lose himself, or lose them that oppressed him;
and that the sequel or end of his life should not permit her to complain of him. After this she
left him, but to confirm him in this dangerous design, she had consulted with those three ambitious persons already spoken to you: the first was the second Governor
which she had given him, named Vincentio Calcagna, whose maxims were contrary to those
of generous Pensa; the second was called Raphaello Sacco, a Lawyer of Savona, and a
cunning and dextrous man, who served him in the government of all his affairs; and the last
Baptista Verrin, a Citizen of Genoua, who dwelling close by the Counts Palace, had by his submissions, and his wit, so gained his friendship, as he was of all his counsel, and disposed almost absolutely of all his estate.
It was then by the means of these three pernicious Counsellors, that this ambitious woman hoped to carry the Count to the taking of some violent resolution. She had advertised them to be ready to go to her son, as soon as she should come out of his Cabinet: As indeed, she was no sooner retired, but encountring them, she said unto them; Go, my dear friends, and labor for your selves, in laboring for the Count: but above all things remember, said she to Raphaello Sacco, to counsel him unto nothing that is violent, which you cannot give a pretext unto of the publique good, of equity, and of glory: for, continued she, I know the Count so well, that if you propound nothing to him but his own conservation, his utility, the advancement of his fortune, and the undoing of his enemies, you will never vanquish him: You must spur his mind forward with the desire of honor, and dextrously beguile him to keep him from beguiling our hopes. They promised her then as much as she could wish, and too faithful in this occasion they kept their word with her; at leastwise Raphaello and Baptista, for as for the third, he did that out of fear, which another would have done out of vertue.They went then to the Count's Cabinet, and to give him no cause of suspicion they repaired to him separately. The first that came thither found him in a deep muse, and never taking notice of him, he continued walking without speaking a word: A little after, the other
two arrived, making shew as if they had not seen one another of all that day. The Count
in the mean time, not doubting of the Treason which they had plotted against his vertue, seeing the three men of the world, in whom he most confided, come by chance unto him as he
believed, at a time when he had need of counsel, could not forbear testifying a great deal of
joy unto them for it. What good Angel, said he unto them, hath brought you so opportunely to draw me out of the thought I am in at this present? I know not, answered Baptista
cunningly, whether my sight be pleasing to you or no, but I know very well that I have nothing that is pleasing to tell you. We are in an age, said the Lawyer, wherein good men
have no great cause to rejoyce, seeing every day the ambition of some few carry insolently
away all that which ought to be the recompence of vertue. It may be some one will be found
continued Baptista, that will make a change in things. But, said the Count interrupting
him, and addressing his speech to Verrin, what bad news have you to impart to me? My
Lord, answered he, it is badder for the Republique, then for you; for in fine, to acquaint
you that Jannetin hath still new honors conferred on him, is to tell you that the power of
Andrea Doria will pass into his hands; that his Tyranny will be perpetuated in the person
of his Nephew; and that we shall never have the happiness to see vertue where it ought
to be.
It is certain, added Raphaello Sacca, that this is the sence of all good men; and in the misery of the age, it seems, said he, addressing himself to the Count, that all the world turn
their eyes upon you. Your illustrious and great birth, accompanyed with so many rare qualities as are in your person, makes all them that love the publique good desire, that your fortune were as great as your heart: And for my particular, I would gladly see your vertue on a
Theater higher then that whereon you are, to the end you might be seen of every one: But
you are born in so unhappy an age, as it seems you cannot aspire to the power of doing good
to your Citizens; so true it is, that Andrea and Jannetin Doria, under the name of the publique liberty, have solidly established their Power, or to say better, their Tyranny. And in
this sort, one may well assure, that the people do sufficiently chastise themselves for the blinde
resolution, which carries them to shake off the yoke of a great and excellent Prince, to suffer
to be imposed upon them that of two Tyrants, who will be so much the more cruel, by how
much they are less accustmed to raign. Their weakness, being supported by the power of
Cæsar, and rendred insolent by the great number of warlike Vessels, which we see in the Port,
will never suffer a couragious and resolute spirit. They will beleeve the high vertue of a man
of condition too dangerous for their rising fortune to endure. They will make use of the ambitious Tides, of Fathersof their Country, and Restorers of the liberty, which have been
given to Andrea Doria, for the oppression of the most magnanimous, with the pretext of
the common good. So that a man of your courage, under this unjust dominion, is more sure
of offences, then of life: and if unto this day we have not seen such like things, it is because
the power of Andrea Doria, hath not yet attained to its supreme greatness; and that his
moderation hath in some sort recained the imperious humor of Jannetin. You know how
insolent he is, how proud, and how insupportable; think then, if when he shall see himself
in an estate of being able to do whatsoever he will, and followed by young people, who reverence him by reason of his Charge, whether there be any thing which will not be permiited
to his capricious humors? Do you beleeve, that a spirit insatiable as his is, will be restrained
within the bounds of Reason? Do you beleeve, that the desire or thirst of raigning, exasperated by so certain a hope, can be extinguished but with the blood of innocents? Do you
beleeve, that content with the power, which Fortune and the simplicity of our Citizens have
given him, he will dye wieh the sole name of Jannetin? For me, I do not beleeve it. His
minde is not so moderate, as that he will, or knows how to contain himself, upon the point
of arriving at his last felicity. He attends, as I conceive, the death of Andrea, which cannot be but neer at hand, that he may follow all his inclinations; and to that effect, being already in the possession of the hearts of the Nobles, he goes nourishing the people in idleness, and the gain of commerce, to the end that this effeminacy depriving them of courage, and
being disaccustomed from the exercise of Arms, they may not dare to resist him, when he





shall enterprize any thing; and by this means he hides a parricidial design under the vail of the publique repose and tranquility.
But let us presuppose, that the divine providence, for the preservation of this Republique, should take him off from this dangerous design; the continuance alone of the rank whereunto he is raised, ought to put shame and confusion into the hearts of all other Citizens, whose births are noble. What reason is there, that in a free Province, so many men of eminent quality, which yield not unto him, either in nobility, or courage, should live as private persons,
whil'st he alone with the magnificence of a Prince, regards all the rest as his inferiors, and
in such sort as they seem to depend absolutely on him? what Law of a well-ordered Republique consents unto it? what Nation is there, that is not barbarous, which permits it? in
what history of civilized people is anything seen that authorizes it? If hitherto you have
not in your particular tryed the insolency of this haughty humor, it is because there hath no
occasion been offered so it; and you know but too well the thoughts which he hath for you:
But henceforward you must partake in the publique miseries; yea I do foretell it with grief,
that you will be seen, as others, to visit him, accompany him serve him. and obey him, as
our Soveraign: and Jannetin Doria shall reckon up amongst the Trophies of his insupportable temerity, that Giovanni Lodovico, Count of Lavagna, courted him, reverenced him,
and basely crouched under his dominion. O! how fitter were it, that rouzing up your spirit,
at the complaints of an oppressed people; and taking a resolution worthy of your Country,
of your race, and vertue, you would deliver all your Citizens from this infamy, as well as
your self. But it may be that means would be wanting to you for the execution of this design; contrarily never thing was more facile. If you turn your eyes towards Rome, you will
finde all the succor there, that you can desire. If you seek for protection in France, the Enemy of Doria cannot fail of encountring a mighty one there. Here in Genoua, the people, always a foe to Tyranny, will serve you for a sword and buckler. Jannetin blinded, or rather
lulled asleep with his good fortune, will fall of himself into the nets which you shall lay for
him. Your own subjects, and the Duke of Placentia's, will defend you from all opposition.
In fine, all things invite you to victory, there is nothing wanting, saving onely your Will,
not for you to fight, but to triumph. As Andrea Doria made use of the pretext of liberty
to oppress his Country, so do you make use of the pretext of Tyranny to deliver yours. And
consider, that it is absolucely necessary for you, eieher to command, or to serve; to render
your self dreadful to others, or to live in continual fear. And since Heaven hath given you
all that can be desired for so glorious an enterprize, birth, courage, wit, conduct, and means,
be sure to make a profitable use thereof; and do not render your self worthy of the servitude
that is prepared for you, in neglecting so fair an occasion to avoyd it.
Raphaello Sacco, could not have touched the minde of the Count in a more sensible part;
and this man being born for great matters, was extreamly pleased, in that he could perswade
himself, by the reasons alledged unto him, that he might both together deliver his Country,
revenge his own injuries, destroy his Enemies, content his ambition, and do nothing contrary to glory. The joy he had of it made him resolve to open his heart to his Confidents;
whereupon he acknowledged unto them, that from his tendrest years, he had felt a disposition in himself to undertake that which had been now propounded unto him; that he had
ever been an Enemy to Jannetin, though he appeared to be otherwise; that his insolency was
insupportable to him; that having been his Rival in love, he would be the same in ambition:
Then he recounted unto them, how Andrea Doria would have broken off his marriage; and
for a conclusion, he declared unto them plainly, that he would change the order of things, and
for that effect crave the protection of France, as being very much inclined to that
Kingdom.
Vincentio Calcagna, seeing how ardently the Count was carryed to this design, and that
he spake of it as of a thing which he had a long time before determined, was constrained
to yield to his temper, which was exceeding timerous: And though he had promised the
Count's Mother all that she had desired of him, and that all his life-time he had given lessons
of Tyranny and Usurpation to him whom he had brought up, yet seeing the peril so neer,
and doubting to be involved in it, and to lose all his fortune, in losing the Count, whom he
he dearly loved; fear made him perform an action of vertue, and pushed on with zeal and
dread, he spake to the Count much after this manner. If you be as strongly resolved to at-





tempt some change in the affairs of the State, as your speech doth witness, I may, O my
dear Master, rather lament our common misfortunes, then draw any advantage by contradicting you: but is my good fortune can make your prudence give some room to second
thoughts, which ordinarily are the intest, you will in this occasion make tryal of the ardor
and fidelity which I carry to your service, by the liberty of my discourse, as you have made
tryal of my diligence, in the encounters where it hath been necessary unto you. Until now
you have lived in so constant a felicity, as it may be said, you have never seen Fortune displeased; and that is the cause why your imagination presents none but agreeable objeds unto
you; that is it which makes you, according to the custom of the happy, think of nothing
but Victories, Scepters, and Crowns: But I am much afraid lest these deceiving hopes be not
one day destroyed by some fatal event, which will be so much the more insupportable unto
you, by how much you have less foreseen it. To go about to alter any thing in the Government of the Republique, in a time wherein we are, is an enterprize attended with so many
difficulties, and exposed to evident a peril, as I cannot force my minde to figure it unto me
certain and facile, as one would perswade you. For in fine, you will pretend either to make
use of strangers, or to hold intelligence with our Citizens; of the former I see no likelyhood for it: but suppose it were possible, at least-wise the matter could not be carryed with
such speed and so secretly, but the City, Doria, or the Emperor, would have notice of it.
Italy, for your ill fortune, is at this present in so great a trouble, as every ones eyes areopen
upon his neighbors affairs: And Genoua it self, by reason of its scituation on the brink of the
sea, is guarded as the key of that State. The Dutchy of Milan, which hath been a long
time, both a prey and place of battel to the fortune of the Imperial and French Armies,
makes Cæsar regard Genoua, as the onely defence, and sole rampart, which covers his power
in Italy. Doria also serves the Emperor with twenty Gallies, but a great deal more with
the good-will of the Citizens, who believe they are obliged unto him: Besides this, all the Coast of the River of Genoua, especially towards the Levant, is absolutely at his devotion. The
City, that is still much troubled with the Tyranny of the Duke of Milan, and Government
of the French, detests the very name of forraign dominion. You may indeed with small forces discover your intention, but not arrive at your end. It is so much the more grievous, that
enterprizes of this nature are not favorably judged of, but by their happy success, and that is
it which I do not see you can obtain. For from what part hope you for great Troops? The
King of France, on whose protection you rely, hath not so little to do, in regard of his pretentions to the Kingdom of Naples, and Dutchy of Milan, but if he had even a minde to
make some new stir in Italy, that he could come and succor you with all his forces, which are
employed for the safety of his frontires. But say that he, or any other Prince, should undertake it, could you believe that the Emperor, who for his own interest takes that of Genoua
upon him, would not oppose them with forces, if not greater, at least-wise equal to those
which you should draw to your assistance? And that being so, you would see your designs
but ill assured, since they would still depend on the loss or gain of battel, whose event is always doubtful: but on which side soever the victory doth fall, you are still to follow the pleasure of the conqueror, nothing being left you that is certain, but the shame of having deprived your Country of her Liberty, for to submit it to a stranger. But if you turn your eyes to
a neerer succor, by thinking to finde it in this City; either I know not the humor, and inclinations of the Genouesses, or your hopes are but weakly grounded. Tell me, I pray you, from
which sort of our Citizens do you look for assistance? Will it be from the Nobles? into
whose hands Andrea Doria hath put the power and government, and who being obliged to
him for the authority they enjoy, live in an happy and honorable tranquillity, so that no
change being able to arrive, which would not be disadvaneageous to them, how would you
have them ayd you in an enterprize, which would precipitate them into amore miserable
estate then ever they were? Is it possible, that meerly to comply with you, they should forget their Country, their liberty, their fortunes, their wives, and their children? Is it possible,
that they should prefer your friendship, before the protection of Doria, whom they reverence as their common father? No, no, disabuse your self from this error; and believe too,
that the people will not be more favorable unto you, since it is true, that the more hate they
bear to the Nobles, the less will they trust you, who being the most illustrious amongst them,
cannot easily perswade them, that you have no intent to do them hurt. But grant that some




of them could believe it, the Chief of the popular families would never consent that their
welfare soould come from your hand.
Again, if you pretend to usurp the Empire of the Republique, what act can be farther
from meriting the good-will of the people? But it may be you will say, that you will re-establish the first form of Government, changed by Doria, where the popular authority did
all things; and that by the declaration thereof the multitude will rise for your advantage:
For my part, I ara not of a contrary opinion, but believe, as well as you, that chose which
are ill satisfied will with joy embrace an occasion of renewing their ancient Tragedies; and
so much the more ardently, for that they shall reap all the profit of it, nothing remaining for
you but shame and infamy. For, for you to imagine, that the Fregoses and Adornes, who
so many years together have sought one against another, to obtain the prime rank in the administration of the popular affairs, will yield it to a man of your birth, is a thing which cannot be believed without clashing with Reason. They will it may be commend your temerity,
and name it valor; they will follow your Colours, as those of their Deliverer; they will
rejoyce to see the Noble-men put in chains, by the hand of a Noble-man; the bowels of their
Country torn out by you; the common rest troubled by your fury; their Tyranny established by your fault: but a time will come when wholly discharging themselves of the sedition
which you have caused, the people will give them the recompence of your travels, the glory
of your enterprize, and the triumph of your combats. In what terms will you finde your
self then? Which way will you turn your self for shame? Detested of the Nobles, whom
you shall have betrayed; despised of the people, who will deride the means which have
caused their utility and your ruine; abominable to your Country, as having ravished her of
her liberty; in Enemy to Cæsar, the Protector of the Republique; suspected of the King
of France, who desires to have an absolute power at Genoua; and hated of all the world,
which naturally and reasonably abhors Treasons.
In fine, I am forced to tell you, and it is necessary that you should understand it, the extream love which I bear you permits it me, and my fidelity enjoyns me to it I fear, I say
(and may it please God that my fear may be vain) that these thoughts of troubles and disquiets be not foretellers of your bad fortune; which it may be hath already resolved the loss
of your estate, of your life and reputation. You know that Jannetin Doria regards you
with an eye of envy, and you your self have oftentimes complained to me of the treacheries
he intended against you; why then will you furnish him with Arms to destroy you? With
what avidity and joy would he embrace the occasion to be revenged of you, and to content
his particular hatred to your person, under the pretext of the publique good? He will rejoyce
in his heart at this resolution, and excess of courage, which precipicates you; and taking up
Arms openly against you with all the partakers of his fortune, with what reasons will not he
justifie his violenc s? You shall be the Enemy of the peoples tranquillity; the Tyrant of the
common liberty; a Rebel to the Republique; and the Catiline of Genoua. With these so
just reproaches, and so plausible a Manifest, what one amongst the people, or amongst the
Nobles, of Citizens or Strangers, of private persons or Princes, that would not arm himself
to exterminate you? It is an horror to me, not onely to say it, but to think it. It will be
absolutely impossible for you not to be utterly confounded by the attempts of so many Enemies, as shall conspire against your life. Your Estate will be confiscated, as the goods of a
Traytor; your memory will be abominable and dishonored in the Annales of Genoua; and
Jannetin, acknowledged for a second Deliverer of his Country, and Restorer of Liberty,
will build his glory on the ruines of yours. We shall see, it may be, that the gratitude of
the Genouesses will erect a Statue to Jannetin, which shall be placed neer to that of Andrea,
in the inscription whereof shall be seen graven the name of Giovanni Lodovico, Count of
Lavagna, the publique Enemy, subdued by Jannetin Doria, the Benefactor of his Country.Now I beseech you, suffer not your self to be carryed away by the impetuosity of age and choller to so evident a peril. Let the pity of your self, of your family, and of your subjects, arrest you. Remember what you owe to your birth, to your reputation, to your Country, and to God: Have compassion of the miseries of your wife; free the mindes of those that love you from so just a fear; consider that your youth, accompanyed with so may vertues, ought not to be so precipitously thrown into the hands of Fortune. Enjoy, enjoy, the blessings





which your Predecessors have left you in so great abundance; and call to mind for the extinguishing of your ambition, that you are in so considerable a rank, which way soever a man
regards you, as you may be envyed even of Jannetin himself. This speech could not be heard
of the Count without emotion; and seeing his design combated with such powerful Reasons
by a man too of whose affection he was so well assured, he seemed very unquiet and uncertain, which Baptista Verrin, quickly marking, conceived, that if the Counts reason had time
to fortifie it self in that which was good, all the enterprize would be in doubt.
He began then with an incomparable subtlety and address gently at first to oppose Vincentio's discourse, as you shall hear, and as I understood it even from Verrin himself, who afterwards recounted all these things to us at Albengua: Behold then in what manner he spake.
I would to God, said he, that the affairs of the Republique were brought to that pass, as all
our Citizens might enjoy their estates with tranquility, I should not then be at this day in the
necessity of wishing you an happier Condition, since as Vincentio Calcagna hath well observed
there is never a one in Genoua, either for Riches, greatness of Estates, or for illustrious Birth,
can match you: Neither am I ignorant, that a wise man ought not to tempt Fortune during
an extream felicity, in regard it cannot change but to his disadvantage. Howbeit destiny,
the enemy of your good, hath in such sort perplexed the State of the Republique, as you are
enforced to attempt something that is great, or to perish. Jannetin Doria, who for so long
a time hath regarded the Empire of Genoua, as the term of his desires and ambition, cannot
endure you; and if you do not see on his brow, and in his eyes, the marks of the extream
hate he bears you; if by his actions you do not discover the excess of his pride, and his contempt of your vertue; the Gallies, which you have bought against his will, may render you
a sufficient testimony thereof; and perswade you, that ambition hath its jealousies as well as
love, and that Jannetin regarding you as his Rival, your ruine is one of his most ardent desires.
His insolency carries him so far, as he will be absolute Master of the Sea, and he will not have
any man so much as dare to trouble or divide his power with him: How then will you have
him endure you for a Competitor in the Government of the Commonwealth, since jealousie,
or the desire of raigning, spares neither the blood of brothers, of children, no not of fathers
themselves?
A wicked inclination, and an opiniative humor, as Jannetin's is, cannot be changed but
by violence: you must then, as things stand, either retire shamefully from Genoua, and abandoning your Gallies to him, declare him victorious, in leaving him Master of the field, or
rouze up that spirit and courage in you, which is to surmount him. But if nevertheless you
be resolved to decline this peril with infamy, and to preserve your life, as having received it
of grace from the hand ofyour enemy; I am willing, I consent to it, and will no longer oppose it; though it be the most deplorable estate, whereineven the hatred of Jannetin can wish
you. But if your vertue do not deceive my hopes, in making me attend some greater and
more generous thing from you, I shall see this rash man surmounted by your valor, and his
pride wholly subjected to your courage. It is for you then to attempt an enterprize, which
is so glorious, as even Jannetin himself will envy you for it. Fortune hath set between you
two the whole Empire of Liguria; and the one cannot vanquish the other to mount into the
Throne, but by passing the Charet of his Triumph over the body of his enemy. He alone
shall best assure to himself the victory, who can first prevent his enemy dexerously, by taking
from him the means of outstripping him. It is a necessity common to you both, for each of
you to think of your conservation; and he shall the wisest, that with the diligence or
speedy execution shall mock at his enemies sloth, in oppressing him without resistance.
In fine, prepare your self to assault, or to be assaulted; to lay ambushes for your enemy, or to
fall into the pit which he hath digged for you; to put him to death, or to suffer death your self.
It may be this speech will seem harsh to the prudent Calcagna, but necessity, which in the
most desperate affairs augmenteth valor and courage, serves also to justisie the violertest actions, when the cause thereof is just, and in these occasions it may be named the buckler of innocency. Let the temerity of Jannetin, the baseness of the Genouesses, and the injustice of
Fortune, which have forced you to this inevitable mischief, be accused for this enterprize.
You do no body injury, when you defend your self, but only follow the ordinary Laws of Nature.
It is prudence to divert upon the head of our enemy the tempest which would overwhelm





us: And if that cannot be done without some appearance of evil, the fault shall not be yours,
but destinies, which leaves you no other man to preserve your life, but by the death of your
adversary, nor will not let your vertue be able to defend it self without a crime. But what
say I, a crime! this word is for you, O too prudent Calcagna; you have learned it no doubt in the School of the Vulgar, who know not the politick of Conquerors. With such like terms
the actions of private persons are spoken of, but not those of the Great: And if your Rule
were true, it might be said that all Empires were Robberies, because there is none of them
which was not established by that natural right, which the strong impose on the weak.
Nature brought men into the world with an equality of all things, and yet left unto Vertue
the power of raising them, which possess it, to the glory of raigning over others: From
whence it comes, that the most part of those, who are Princes or Masters of the Earth, carry
not that title, but because their Predecessors, by the address and by force of Arms, usurped
the Empire over their equals. I do not deny but that there are some persons, who as well as
Vincentio will blame your resolution, before it be conducted to its end, in regard all hardy
and dangerous actions are never commended till they are executed; but as soon as the happy
success of the event shall have justified and authorized the greatness of your enterprize, the
blame will be turned into admiration; and that which was called temerity and imprudence,
will be termed valor and greatness of courage. As long as the first of the Cæsars was in Arms
against Pompey, and that the Roman Empire was the cause of their conflicts, he had not only
Pompey for an adversary, but even all the Nobility were his most cruel foes. In the mean
time as soon as he had defeated his Enemies mighty Army in the plains of Pharsalia, and that
this victory had put him in full possession of the Roman Empire, all the hatred which was
born him ceased; and he was so dearly and ardently beloved of the Romans, as this affection
could not finish with his life, but they punished his death with a memorable revenge. Resolve then to suffer the Genouesses for a time to call you Tyrant, and do not take this name as
a grievous injury, seeing it shall be the last insolency of their dying liberty. They will accustom
themselves afterwards to acknowledg you for their lawful Prince, and as such reverence you.
Behold how much I rely on your fortune, in speaking to you of the felicities of your Empire,
before you have resolved to fight for the acquiring of it. But things are disposed in such sort,
as you may sooner be wanting to your self, then the Empire to your vertue. For if the difficulties be great, according to Vincentio's opinion, your courage is yet greater. Let us grant
him, that the enterprize is dangerous and difficult; in what History, ancient or modern, hath
it been found, that the way which conducteth to glory is covered with flowers? and that an
illustrious action hath been executed without pain? All great designs have always been followed by great perils; and all high places are ever near to precipices: A generous man will
not for all that let the fear of an uncertain evil, make him a prey to an inevitable servitude.
Amongst private persons it is an effect of prudence to be contained within mediocrity; but in
affairs of State all resolutions are to be extream, the rest being dangerous, especially in enterprizes, which begin not to break forth but by their execution. For it being then no longer
in our power to retain the thing, we must of necessity arrive at the end we have proposed to
our selves, or fall in the midst of the course, and be utterly lost. Yet let us not make so unhappy a presage ofour designs, but let us forecast the misfortunes which may arrive to us, not
to torment our selves in the expectation of them, but by prudence to take from them the
power of hurting us. We are to be guided with precaution, but yet not so far, as that extream wisdom may thereby render us more timorous and viresolute. You must, generous
Count, give something to the conduct of Fortune, who having chosen you for the Deliverer
of Genoua, and Restorer of the ancient Italian valor, will know well enough how to find
out the means to plain all difficulties before you. It is she that calls you to glory; it is she
that will conduct you to it; only confent to your good fortune, and with an open heart receive the Crown which fate presents you with, not sharing it with any one. For to what
end would it serve you to call in the French, to the sharing of your glory? whereas that Nation, having lost their credit in Italy, as well as their States, would hurt you more, then
they could help you. The example of Andrea Doria should keep you sufficiently from it:
He had served them with exceeding affection, and to their great profit, in the mean time you know how he was intreated.And then again, what recompence could the French ever give you, that might be worthy




of your labors? It may be they will leave you Governor in Genoua, with the dependances
which they use to exact of their Subjects; but that would be to render you mercinary in a
place, where Nature hath given you part in the Dominion. If any resistance should be made
by the Emperor, or by the City it self, against your designs, with what forces could they
come and succor you, being in a Country so far distant from ours, and so taken up with their
own affairs. Verily you are to make use of your Subjects, of your Friends, and of your
Confederates. And why will you not with so generous a Troop undertake to see this Crown
upon your head, which is as worthy of you, as you are worthy of it? When as your power
shall be established in Genoua, which may be said to be the Key of all Italy on the Sea coast,
the chiefest Kings of Christendom will seek for your alliance and amity with care. The envy
of your Competitors being surmounced, the family of the Counts of Lavagna will be in a
state, whereunto no person in Genoua ever yet arrived. It will lie in your hands to be revenged of those enemies that despised your youth; Jannetin himself, yea Jannetin Doria,
your mortal enemy, shall fall spight of his teeth at your feet, to crave pardon ofyou; He
shall reverence you as his Lord; he shall fear you as a Prince; his actions shall be accommodated to your pleasure; your will shall rule his desires; and on you alone shall his life or death
depend. Let the French then keep themselves in their Kingdom, and from thence only let
them hear the same of your Victories. It is for you alone to surmount all the Obstacles which
may be opposed to your generous designs. Undertake it then with a confidence worthy of
your birth, and of your courage; merit by this action the triumph which Heaven hath destined to you. Let all the world learn that you knew how to be the illustrious and sole Artisan
ofyour fortune. Surpass the hopes which I have of you, although they be very great; and to
say all, assure the Empire to your family, and Eternity to your name.
Baptista Verrin had no sooner made an end of speaking, but Raphaello Sacco affected to
France, and Vincentio Calcagna pushed on by his timidity, by the fear of losing that repose
which he had enjoyed all his life time, and by the affection which he bore to the Count, opposed themselves once more against Baptista. The first would have had nothing undertaken
without the succor of the French; and the other would have had nothing undertaken at all.
But Baptista for his own interest would be sure not to yield in this occasion: He saw, that as
long as the Government was in the hands of the Nobility, he should never pretend to have
any part in the sway thereof. And then again, he had brought his affairs into so strange a
disorder, by the debts which he had run into, as judging that he could hardly conceal his misery longer, if the tranquility of the Republique should last any time, he was desirous to steal
it from the eyes of the world by a universal confusion. He considered also, that if the enterprize were prosperous, he should raise his fortune to an high pitch; that it contrarily the success of it should be infortnate, his ruine being accompanied with that of others, and dying in
his endeavoring the execution of a great design, it would be some comfort to him to think that
the infamy of his name would pass unto posterity; so true it is, that the ambition of men is so unreasonable, as to make them oftentimes to put no difference between good and bad fame,
provided it be great.
Baptista then opposed himself with a great deal of vehemency against their Reasons that appugned his, and told the Count, that it was a thing unworthy ot a noble Soul, to let himself
be vanquished by fear, or to say better, by Chimera's. He represented unto him, that the
Garison of Genoua consisted of no more then two hundred Soldiers; that Doria's Gallies,
though many in number, would be unprofitable for his defence, so as the time of execution
were chosen, when as they were disarmed, at their return from scouring the Seas, which
they usually did every year; that Andrea and Jannetin, far from all suspicion, lived without
any particular Guard, and in a confidence which would be very commodious to them; that
it would be easie for him to draw into Genoua a good number of selected men, and taken out
of the Lands of his obedience, who on a sudden should go and seize upon Doria in his own
Palace; and that at the very same time it would be facile to render himself Master of the Gallies; that the hatred of the people against the Nobles would make an end of the rest of the enterprize, and give it an happy success. He offered for his own particular to get the Citizens to rise in favor of this design; assuring him, that by his means they were wholly disposed already to rebellion. With such like Reasons, which Verrin amplified with a great deal of address, he became Master of the Counts mind, who plainly testified that he determined, either to





perish, or to raign. And after he had made known, that nothing could alter his resolution,
he said unto Raphaello Sacco, who had perswaded him to the business under the pretext of
the publique good, Heaven is my witness, that if I did not beleeve I should make my Country more happy under my Command, then it is under the Tyranny of them that oppress it, I
would chuse rather to dye, then to attempt that which I am going to undertake.
This speech ended, they all resolved with one accord, that since the Government could
not be changed without the death of Andrea and Jannetin Doria, they were chiefly to think
of giving such order to the matter, as the end of their lives should be the beginning of the execution thereof. This Conspiracy being made, the Count went out of his Cabinet, with a
marvelous tranquillity of spirit, and we were all the evening with him, talking of Musick and
Painting, as if he had had nothing else of importance in his thought. As for his Counsellors,
they told her who had employed them, that she was to attend great matters from her son,
without particularizing anything unto her, for fear left she should discover them. In the
mean time, the Count, having certain days after taken great care for the Gallies, which he
had bought not long before, used to go oftentimes to the places belonging to him; where
with an admirable Providence he furnished his Subjects with Arms, and made them to exercise them, upon pretext of being in some fear of the Duke of Placentia, whose neighbor he
was; but indeed, it was to render them capable of serving him in his design.
The end of Autumn being come, he returned to Genoua, and applyed all his care to gain
the good-will of all the young men, of those families newly ennobled, which are called Popular.
He introduced himself into their conversation with a marvelous compliance. He sent presents
to some, he served others according to occasions, and offered himself to all, with an extraordinary courtesie. And whereas he had a quick and pleasing wit, and a supple and charming
humor, he won their affection in so high a manner, as he was their Master, rather then their
friend. When as he knew that he might begin to confide in them, and that their wills depended absolutely on his, he fell to jeering, as occasion served, at the Government of Genoua,
which he termed the Tyranny ofthe Nobles. Sometimes he testified with interrupted speeches
that he suffered in the miseries of the popular families; sometimes he seemed to tell them that
the matter was not past remedy, and that they might abase the pride of the Nobles, if their
hearts did not fail them; sometimes also with a bitter scoff he exhorted them to servitude;
yet still leaving them a sting behind in their minds by his doubtful and uncertain words. And
above all things, he aggravated the injustice of the Government, when by chance any accident fell out, that displeased the popular families. But if he were agreeable to them, he had
rendred himself no less pleasing to the common people, by such means as he had carefully
used for it. He most readily saluted some, he smiled upon others as he met them, he was
magnificent in his apparel, gentle and courteous to every one; and that which advanced his
design more was, as you know as well as I, that he was wonderful handsom, and of an exceeding jovial humor; that the air of his face was sweet and agreeable; and his carriage so
noble, so free, and so fair, as one was forced to love him at the very first sight. He exercised himself also in fencing, and riding of the great horse, and that with so gallant a grace,
and so great an address, as they that saw him could not chuse but love a man, who gave them
so much delight.
But whereas liberality is the strongest chain, wherewith the people may be captivated, he
met with no occasion of demonstrating his unto them, but he testified it with a magnificence
past compare. Yet would not our prudent Conspirator cast himself so absolutely into the
hands of the people, as to minister any jealousie thereby to the Nobles; but he used so just a
temper in a conjuncture, where mediocrity was so hard to be observed, that the good-will
of the one did not make him lose the friendship of the others. And to that effect, though
Jannetin was become very insolent, since Cæsar had admitted him for Generalissimo after the
death of Andrea; though he would be no longer followed by young men but for interest;
though he would be no longer served but for fear; though his arrogance had even carried him
to offer some ill usage to the Count; yet began he not only to go oftner to Andrea then he
was wont, and to shew a more particular reverence to him, but shutting up also in his heart
the hatred which he bore to Jannetin, he conversed often with him, and demanded counsel and assistance of him in his affairs. And because that in times past the love of Leonora had
put them at odds with one another, he used great care to take from him the memory thereof.In the mean time, he had treated secretly with the Duke of Placentia, who had promised
him two thousand Foot, to joyn with two thousand others, which he had pick'd forth out
of all his subjects, for the service of his enterprze when time should serve. He had also
caused one of his Gallies to come to Genoua under pretext that he meant to send her forth to
scour the Seas all along the Coast of Barbary. Howbeit during all this we observed as a most
extraordinary thing in him, that he was as merry as he used to be, delighted as much in our
company, and seemed to have no other greater thought, then of being agreeable to his
friends.
Now Baptista, cunning and undertaking as he was, remained not idle; for in a very short
time he had gained a great number of persons, who promised to follow and serve him faithfully in a secret design which he said he had. With these preparations, they believed that they
had layd foundations solid enough for the execution ot their intentions; and being assembled
together to take their last resolution, the advice of Baptista Verrin was, that whereas there
was a ceremony to be celebrated for the performance whereof every one would resort unto
the Church, he would have them begin the executing of the business in that place, offering to
give Jannetin the first stab. But the Count's piety being unable to consent to this proposition, he made a step or two back, crying out, He would never endure that the beginning of
his enterprize should be a profanation and a sacriledg. Raphaello Sacco added thereunto,
that the matter likewise would even be as uncertain, as it was exerable; because Andrea Doria might excuse himself upon the incommodity of his age, and so not come, but send
Philippo Doria his Kinsman in his stead. To this Verrin answered again, that is they thought
it fit he would go, whil'st they were executing the business, to Andrea's Palace, and under
colour of visiting him as he was wont to do, he would strike him to the heart with his Poignard. But the Count being very angry with him for it, he gave this over, and propounded
another expedient worthy of his wit: He told the Count, that Jannetin's sister being shortly after to marry with Julio Cibo, Leonara's brother, he would have him desire them to sup
at his house; and to render the feast the more magnificent, he should also invite Andrea Doria and Jannetin, together with a great number of Ladies, and all such amongst the Nobles,
whom they might judg were most to be feared for the execution of their design; That things
being thus, it would be easie for them whom they had hid for that purpose to kill them; that
presently thereupon the Count, followed by his friends, should go through all the streets of
Genoua, sounding out the sweet name of Liberty, and acquainting the people that their
chains were broken; That in this Tumult the Palace was to be seized upon and secured; that
in the mean time he would possess the people with the Count's generous designs, concealing
from them with address that which he had of absolutely raigning; and letting them know
the necessity of reforming the Government, or to say better, the cruel Tyranny of the Nobles,
for so it was that he spake; That for this effect he would crown him Duke of the Republique, and cause them whom he had gained to take the oath of allegiance unto him; That if
any one, either in woord or deed, should contradict them, he should be killed upon the
place.
The Count found this plot indifferently well contrived, but yet he felt an extream repugnancy in resolving to violate the law of hospitality, in killing men in his house, whom he had
intreated thither; but being perswaded that he should not meet with a better man to arrive
to his end, he resolved for it: And to that purpose, he commanded, that the Soldiers, which
he had chosen from amongst his Subjects, should come one by one into Genoua; And on
other side he sollicited the Duke of Placentia to send him the succor which he had promised
him. All these dispatches could not be so secretly made, especially having to do with a levy
of men of war, but that Don Fernando de Gonzagua, who had succceded to the Marquis of Guast, and commanded at that time in the Dutchy of Milan, was advertised thereof. For whereas he was vigilant for the security of the State, which had been entrusted to his conduct, he had carefully set spies to observe the least motions of the neighboring Provinces, especially of the Princes that were suspected to him; so that he was soon informed by men, that
were as dextrous as faithful, whom he had employed for that effect, that the Duke of Placentia had levyed in his State two thousand Soldiers with extraordinary haste for the Count
of Lavagna; and conjecturing by the silence and secrecy, which was used in this affair,
that there was some great design a plotting, he sent with all speed to Genoua, to advise Do-ria, and Don Gomes Suarez, the Emperors Embassador there, to stand upon their guard,
because the young Count of Lavagna was conspiring some great matter.
Andrea received this advice, without grounding any thing thereupon; for he was so
strongly perswaded of the Count's affection to him, and so powerfully assured, by the tranquillity which he always saw in his face, that he had no had design in hand, as this discourse made
no kind of impression in his wind; and to confirm him in his incredulity, the Count entred accidently into Andrea's chamber, when as the Embassador and he were speaking of this affair;
but he appeared with so clear a countenance, and talked to them with so much judgment, and
liberty of spirit, that Andrea Doria, charmed with his conversation, and perswaded of
his innocency, approached to the Embassador, and said to him softly in his ear, as we have
learn'd since, Judg you your self, whether this Prncely look, this both modest and confident
carriage, this noble and quiet soul, and this liberty of spirit, can be capable of so horrible
a conspiracy? The Embassador not able to gainsay Andrea's Opinion, made a sign to him
that he was of his mind. And albeit that two days after Doria had a second advertisement,
yet the Count's address was so great, as his sight alone destroyed whatsoever was said against
him. And so wonderful was his conduct, that Andrea Doria, above fourscore years of
age, and held for one of the greatest politicians of his time, was beguiled by a man of two and twenty.
The generous Pansa, who had been of none of the Count's counsels, was without comparison more advised. For whereas he joyned affection to prudence, it was the more easie
for him to suspect something of the truth. He had exactly observed all the Count's actions,
ever since he had bought the Gallies of the Duke of Placentia; and carefully examining all
that he had seen or heard in divers occasions, he found that he had cause to fear lest the Count
had some dangerous design a foot. He saw how he, who was accustomed to communicate
the most important affairs of his house to him, talked no longer with him but of indifferent
things; that he was often in a retired and private conversation with Baptista Verrin, and
having followed him sometimes when as he withdrew himself into his Cabinet, he had percived him to be musing and melancholique: For though the Count seemed to be merry,
when as he might be seen of anybody, and by that artifice admirably covered the designs
which he had in his heart, yet was be no sooner retired in private, but he became quite another then what he had been seen abroad, which Pansa alone had marked, for he had concealed himself from Leonora, as well as from others. That which kept the Count from communicating hs design to Pansa, was his knowledg of the affection and exceeding prudence
of the man, so that he was assured he would have opposed his design, or at least-wise have
counselled him not to have undertaken it so precipitously: and would have had him seek for
more security in an enterprize, where none had ever been.
At length, one day when as the Count returned to his Palace more melancholique then he
used to be, carrying in his face some marks of an extraordinary unquietness, and with such a
paleness, as amazement many times paints on the forehead of those, which are upon the point
of executing some great design, whose event is but ill-assured; the generous Pansa followed him to his Cabinet, and resolved to tell him his suspicions, for fear lest if he should
longer defer to do it, there would be no time left for the remedying of the evil whereof he was
afraid. After he had shut the door then, he addressed his speech to the Count, who leaning
on a Table, heard him with a great deal of unquietness. I know very well, my Lord, said he
unto him, that one merits to be as much blamed, for enquiring into the secrets of another
as oue ought to be esteemed, for fidelity in concealing them, when they are entrusted unto us;
wherefore mine being known by so many proofs which I have rendered unto you of it, I have
beleeved, that it was for you to discover your mindes unto me, and for me not to do any thing
that might displease you. But now that the trouble of your eyes doth justifie my suspicions,
and redouble my unquietness, I learn to fear by the fear which I discern in your face, that doubtless betrays your thoughts; Yes, my dear Master, I fear, and am not able to tell you what it is I fear; howbeit I know very well that it is an effect of the love I bear you, and an excess of my fidelity, which puts me into doubt; but I know also, that my fear is not without probability. For how can I be perswaded that that which you are premeditating is glorious and honorable, if it hath the power to trouble the tranquillity of your Soul? Beleeve me,
the execution of the matter you are thinking of, can be neither very assured, nor very facile,





since the onely imagination thereof disquiets you. Let this fatal presage arrest you, and know
that all the enterprizes which are commenced with this repugnancy and pensiveness, whereof
I behold the marks in your face, have never or seldom any prosperous success. Make profit
then of the interior advertisements, which Heaven sends you. I do not press you to tell me the
secret, which you will not have me to know, though I may presume to ask of you why
you retain me about you, if my faith be suspected to you, and that you no longer judg me
worthy of your confidence? But onely tell me, what object and what end can the conversation of these men have, who always leave you so sad and unquiet, as I never saw you so before. Alass! how do I fear, lest these secret counsels, which you hold so often with these
violent persons, and whose inclinations are not very sincere, should by their address and
cunning draw you out of the way of vertue! Suffer me, my dear Master, to discover the
disease that I may cure it. They, from whom my suspicions arise, are not of such commendable manners, or of so exemplary a piety, as I may beleeve thev give you counsels, which
do not clash either with Vertue, or with Religion. It may be they abuse your little experience,and knowing you generous, they propound unto you actions, which in appearance are great
and glorious, but which in effect are rash and vain. Open your eyes then, O noble Count,
and think that an inconsiderate man may make you fall into a precipice, out of which the
prudence of all the wisest in the world cannot draw you. It is easie enough to set a Palace on
fire, but it is not so easie to quench it: Take heed lest they that counsel you do not make use of
you, to arrive at the end which they propose unto themselves; and that your undoing do not
serve for the benefit of them which deceive you. It is rare to meet with men, who counsel
that which is good, because it is good, without regard to their interest; and yet it is by this
experience, that we are to be secured of them. Examine then seriously, whether they, which
counsel you, cannot become greater or richer by that they would have you undertake. And
to tell you all that I think in this occasion, I cannot be perswaded, that they, which spend
their lives amongst crimes, are capable of perswading vertue unto others. For though there
be great difference beeween deeds and words, the most important part of perswasion consists
in example rather then in discourse; and commonly the mouth and the hand act alike. What
would these men have of you? To what innovation would they carry you? The estate of
your affairs are at such a point, as they have no need of change; there can no mutation arrive
unto you, but will be to your disadvantage. Envy hath a long time sought to fasten on you,
and will you let her take hold on you by the disorder whereunto they are carrying you? For
you are not ignorant, how there is a great number of persons, who are inferior ro you, both
in Nobility, Estate, and Vertue, which endevor to traduce you. I know that hope is sweet
unto young people, especially to them which can sustain it with the greatness of their courage, but I know withall that nothing is more slippery then prosperity: Beware then lest
the hope of an incertain thing do not make you lose an assured good. They which counsel you
have nothing to lose, nor nothing to hazard, whether their means or their reputation be considered; and therefore it is, that these kinde of men wish for revolts, seditions, tumults, and disorders, because it is the custom of such like persons to enrich themselves with other mens losses,
and to find their particular rest in a general confusion. In fine, they which are not very high,
fear not falling; but you are to deal otherwise: For you are not onely obliged to conserve the
blessings, which Heaven hath committed to you, as it were in trust, but you are also obliged
out of a sense of honor to give occasion unto fame, by the generosity of your actions, to publish, that you are the worthy successor of so many great men which have preceded you.
The Count heard the generous Pansa with a great deal of impatience; he told him for all
that in general terms, that all his designs being great and noble, he should be assured he would
do nothing unworthy of his birth; and having embraced him very tenderly, he left him, after
he had conjured him not to say any thing to Leonora of his unquietness. In the mean time the Count and his Confederates impatiently attended the day of that fatal feast, which was to be the fourth of January, for the executing of their design. But they were constrained to hasten
the business, because Andrea Doria, having been taken with a fit of the gout, that was accompanyed with a feaver, was not in case to keep his promise for beingj there: and Jannetin
being to part from Genoua about a very pressing affair, the Count did thereupon judg, that
it would be superfluous for him, to attend the day of the feast, since the two principal sacrifices, which were to be offered, would not be present there. And considering further that





the greatest obstacle of Conspirators is always retardment, they resolved on the second of January at night for the execution of their design. And to that effect the Count began to publish that he had a determination to send one of his Gallies against the Pirates; for that the Pope having allowed him entertainment but for three of them, he would have the other bring him in wherewithall to defray the charge he was at with her. Upon this pretext, and by this artifice, he caused a great part of the Soldiers, which had been sent him from Placentia to enter into Genoua; saying, that out of them he would make choyce of the strongest and ablest men. And left the number of those which came from his Lands, who were far more then were needful for a Gally, should give any suspicion, he made a great many of
them to be led in chained, as Malefactors destined to the Oar; and caused the rest to enter in
one after another through several gates, after they were well furnished with Arms. And the
better to beguile Jannetin, he entrusted him with the design which he said he had for the
sending of his Gally to scour the Seas, desiring him so to deal with Andrea, as he might give
no impediment unto it; fearing (said he) lest the obligation wherein the Republique stood
engagd to Soliman by the means of Justiniano, should keep Andrea from permitting it.
Jannetin promised him all that he desired, and kept his word with him.
In the mean time the second of January being arrived, which preceded that dreadful night,
the Count caused certain Soldiers of the Garison to come to his Palace, whereof some were
his Subjects, and the rest such as had been placed there by him, and having left them under
the Command of one of the Conspirators, he went and past away the rest of the day till evening with Andrea Doria, where he had never been seen more merry, or more pleasant. He
intreated Jannetin again, who was there present, to give order at the Port, that his Gally,
which was that night to set sail towards the Archipelague, might not be stayed. He advertised him also, that he would not be troubled, if he heard any noise, or any Ordnance discharged; for, as you know better then I, said he unto him, they always shoot off some for
the Ceremony of parting, and these things never pass without some stir. At his coming
from thence the French Marquess and I met him; but it had been hard for us to foresee what
the Count had in his thought, for he talked to us of nothing but of matches of sport and delight for the ensuing days; Howbeit he gave us dextrously to understand, that he should be
busie this evening in setting forth his Gally, for fear lest we should go home with him, seeming nevertheless very sorry at it, and telling us that Leonora and Sophronia would not be
friends with him for it. After we were parted from him, he went to his Palace, which, as
you know, was in that part of Genoua, called Carignan, and which seems to be severed from
all the rest of the City, and to command it, as well for its advantageous scituation, as for its
magnificence. You know also, that this Palace, being built upon a little hill, touched the
walls of the City almost on every side; The Sea was in the face of the building, and backwards it had for prospect the pleasant Valley of Bisagno. I put you in mind of these things,
that you may comprehend, how this Palace, being as it were an Island, was very commodiously scituated for the Counts enterprize; having no nearer a neighbor then Baptista, who
being of the Conspiracy was not to be feared. In fine, being returned home, he drew thither
about the beginning of the night, a great many of armed men, of those which he had caused
to enter secretly into the City, and of those which he had suborned even in Genoua it self.
He placed them for the Guard of the Gates of his Palace, whom he held to be the most courageous and faithful; with order to leave the entrance thereinto free to every one, but to let
no body pass out of them.
In the mean time one ofthe Captains of the Garison, going to see Sentinels, perceived that
some of the Soldiers were missing, and enquired of his Lievtenant whicher they were gone;
whereupon some of their fellows answering that they were gone to Carignan with the Count
of Lavagna, it made him suspect something; so that he went instantly and gave notice
thereof to the Senators that were at the Palace, and to Andrea Doria; and then it was that
the Counts dissimulation wrought the greatest effect, and began to produce that which he had
expected from it. Jannetin hearing this advertisement, told him, that his fidelity was to be
commended, although this advice had no ground for them to fear any thing. For whereas he
was prepossest by the Counts address, who had demanded permission of him for the parting
away of a Gally this night to scour the Seas towards the Levant, he assured them that all these
Soldiers, which were gone to him, being of his own or the Duke of Placentia's Subjects,





were destined to that purpose; and that those, which were said to be at Carignan, were
gone thither to take their farewell of some of their friends. With such like discourses,
Jannetin made the rest give over their suspicions, and he himself served the design of his Enemy.
This while the Count, after he had given order for all things necessary at home, went to
two or three of those assemblies, which are made a nights in the houses of persons of quality
in Genona, where the small time that he stayed there, he left a new admiration of his wit.
He was magnificently apparelled that day, and redoubling also his ordinary civility and gallantry, he went not out of any of those companies without augmenting the affection which
they already bore unto him. But at last he went to the house of one, named Assereto, where
he found three and twenty young Gentleman of the Popular order, whom the cunning of
Baptista Verrin had drawn thither. The Count caressed them exceedingly, and talking with
them of divers things, and supper time being near, he desired them to go home and eat with
him. He told them, that it was too fair an evening to part so soon; that the night was too
light, and the Moon too clear, for them to excuse themselves upon the season; and briefly
he intreated them with so good a grace, as they went along with him. The Count led them
to a back room, willing the discreet Pansa to go and entertain his wife, unto whom he would
come ere it were long, because, said he smiling, our design will not brook the presence of Ladies.
At first these young Gentlemen beleeved, that it was to treat them with the more liberty he did
so, and so went on with him. In the mean time Baptista Verrin went dextrously to see if he
could discover anything about the Palace, or at Doria's, that might make him think they
were suspected.
Things being in these terms, the Count entred into another chamber, after he had told
them, that he would come to them again presently, as indeed he stayd not long before he returned. But they were mightily surprized, when as they saw him enter compleatly armed,
and followed by two hundred Soldiers, with Partisans or Musquets, which ranged themselves
round about him; He had his Viser up, and his Sword in his hand; and beginning then to
let the hatred and choller break forth, which he had for so long a time kept concealed in his
heart, his face was all on fire, and fierceness and fury appeared in his eyes. He approached
to a Table, and leaning on it with his left hand, he continued a while without saying any
thing; then suddenly giving a great bounce on it, he said with an imperious tone, and a precipitate voyce, it is done, I am resolved, O couragious and illustrious friends! a spirit touched with any generosity can no longer suffer it, the insolency of them that would oppress us
hath incensed my courage, and wearied my patience. My imagination presents unto me a
spectacle, too horrible and too deadly, in making me see our Citizens tyrannized, and the
subversion of our Country indubitable, for me not to oppose my self to a mischief, which
fear, or to say better, Reason, makes me see so nigh at hand. If the evils, wherewith the
Republique is mortally taineed, could hope for remedies from time, I would endure, as others
do, a retardment, which might be profitable to the publique good; but since we are arrived
at the last period of our misery, and that we see our selves quite ready to be ruined, we merit
of necessity go and encounter that which is to overwhelm us: and if it be possible, not only
sustain, but overthrow it. How great soever the peril is, it loses much of its force,, when it
is couragiously affronted; whereas contrarily, it encreases and becomes inevitable when it is attended with patience.
Jannetin Doria weary of that idle felicity which follows him, dreams of nothing but of
contenting his ambition; and seeing his pernicious designs, so near to be executed, his whole
thought is bestowed in contriving my death, and your servitude. It was not enough for this
ambitious man to see the people of Genoua dispoiled of the Empire of Liguria, and submited
to be the object of the contempt of the Nobles, but he must enterprize also to render himself
tyrannically Soveraign of you: yea, more barbarous then Strangers have been unto us, so
great a pride is there seen in his heart, as cannot be vanquished by patience, nor avoyded by
humility. And to secure himself of you, he holds you besieged on the Sea-side with twenty
Gallies, which in the midst of an apparant peace are in the Port, more for your ruine then for
your safety. We see him always going through the City, invironed with Nobles, who by the
favor of Andrea, having usurped the Commands which appertained unto you, render unto
Jannetin, for a recompence of your infamy, an honor unworthy both of them and of him.





But that which touches me further, is, that I certainly know how under the authority of a
Prince he prepares an heavy yoke for the publique liberty. And because I have without considering my birth embraced your cause, not so much for the interest of your order, as for following of Reason, and satisfying of my duty; because, I say, I have never consented to the insolent contempt, which the Nobles have used towards all them that are not of their body; because I have esteemed of vertue wheresoever I have met with it; because I have always taken
part with Equity, without considering that their interests were in some sort mine; they attempt upon my life, and believe that they cannot put you into chains, unless they deprive you
of him, whom they conceive to be strong enough, or couragious enough, to undertake the
breaking of them.
What do we mean then, O my companions, by our sloth and our cowardise? Will we be
always the Spectators of our own misery? For what enterprize shall we reserve our courage,
if in the general desolation of our Country we abandon our selves? It is no time for us linger
to complain of our Enemies, but to revenge our selves of them. Let us leave the use of tears
to our wives, and if we be worthy the name of men, which we bear, let us employ our courage, our force, and our address, in destroying our Tyrants. We have too much already endured their insolency, which doubtless carries them to believe, that our patience is an effect
of our faint-heartedness. They who leave crimes unpunished, are guilty of those, which the
excess of their goodness doth make their oppressors commit afterwards; who ordinarily augment their violences, when as they see they are dissembled. What do we forther expect, O generous Citizens? May it be, to have the Government, and all kind of Authority in the Republique to be utterly lost? May it be, that you will have the heart to place Jannetin in the
Throne? To see the Ministers of his fury go and take your goods out of your houses, ruine
your families, attempt upon your lives, dishonor your wives, and commit those wickednesses,
which may justly be attended from a Tyranny, that is born for the ruine of the Country, nourished by the publique dissention, increased by the miseries of the Citizens, and established
by the death of so many good men? Are our courages so base, and so low brought? Have
our swords so little edg, as we cannot cut off the infamous life of him, who makes a glory
of our shame, who triumphs over our misfortunes, and feeds on our miseries? Shall we not
pluck out of Jannetin's body that cowardly heart, which hath contrived so many Treasons
and which may be termed the scource of all our mischiefs? Shall we suffer a simple Citizen to
be our Tyrant, let him trample us under his feet, and subjecting us unto him as his Slaves,
dispose of our lives and deaths as he pleaseth? For me, I profess freely unto you, that I hold
it more glorious to buy liberty with a great peril, then to sweeten servitude with idleness and
patience. And as I take it for a glory, that our Enemies have a design to add the loss of my
life unto that of the Republique, so do I consecrate my life with joy for the liberty of my
Country, acknowledging that I should be unworthy of enjoying it, if I could prefer it before the publique utility. I desire only, O illustrious Citizens, to discover a resolution in you, if not worthy of your courage, at leastwise proportionable to the danger wherein you are. In fine, whether you will have me for a
Soldier, or a Captain; if you will go before me, I will
follow you, if I shall go before you, do you follow me. Besides, whether you be sensible of
honor, or that you only think of your safety, you are always forced to take up Arms: for
since I must deliver things unto you as they are, this resolution, as to generous men, is glorious for you, as to menof little courage is commodious for you, and in what manner soever ill conducted, have long time considered the end and means of it: And I have not only examined
the sequel of it, but I have assembled troops for it, and having distributed them in the most commodious places for execution, it is rather inviting you to the pleasing spectacle of a certain victory, then to the peril of a doubtful fight.
But without animating you by the hope of that is to come, I know very well, so as you will call to mind the outrages of the Nobles, and the insolency of Jannetin, I know very well, I say, that the desire of revenge being rouzed up in your Souls, you will come to fight with so much heart, as our Enemies shall to their damage admire the valor of those whom they despised; and you on the contrary shall know by your own experience, whether they have as much force in warlike occasions, as they have weakness in abandoning themselves to voluptuousness in the time of Peace. Let us go then, generous Citizens, and let this be the end of




my discourse, and the beginning of your victory. Let us go out of this Palace, and descend
into the City, where we are attended by a great number of our friends, for the ending of an
enterprize so well begun. The gates are in the power of the Soldiers, whom I have gained to
me, the Gallies upon a Signal given will fall into the hands of a Troop of men, as hardy to render themselves Masters of them, as prudent to conserve them. We have in the City fifteen
hundred inhabitants, which are armed for us; and even now that I am speaking to you there
are in the Suburbs two thousand of my Subjects, and as many of the Duke of Placentia's,
which are come to succor us.
Let us go then, my companions, and call the people again to liberty; let us return to the
sweetness of our ancient Government; let us exterminate the Nobles and Jannetin's Tyranny;
and in one only night, more shining then the fairest days of our lives have been, let us re-establish the glory of the popular families in their first splendor; let us for ever deface out of
the memories of men our past faint-heartedness. But if any of you as I cannot believe) be so audacious & so cowardly both together, as to oppose a design so glorious for us, and advantageous
for our Country, let him behold round about him this dreadful company of Arms and Soldiers, and let him imagine that he sees at the very same instant the points of all our swords leveled at his heart. Yea, my Companions, I do protest it openly, we must of necessity either
fight or dye. And that blood which shall be ingratefully denyed to the succor of our Country,
so neer to ruine, shall b hed, in this very place, to wash away the stain of such perfidiousness. Yea, I say it once again, the first sacrifice, which shall be consecrated for the publique
safety, shall even here have his throat cut with my hand, if any one undertakes to oppose
my will.
These dreadful menaces amazed those to whom they were addrest; they beheld one another, and then that great number of Soldiers which environed them; and after they had been
a while without speaking, they cryed all with one voyce, two excepted, that they would
follow the Count even to the death; that they would be the companions of his triumph, or
of his fall; and in conclusion, that they would never abandon him, but would obey him in
all things. The Count embraced them then with a great deal of joy, and testimony of satisfaction; and being turned towards those two, which as yet had said nothing, they besought
him to have pity of their weakness, with words wherein fear appeared so visible, as the Count
could not forbear smiling. They represenred unto him, that the request which they made
him, was advantageous to him, as well as to them; because being so uncapable of fighting,
they should hurt him more then they could help him; that their fear might beget the same in
others, and their flight give an ill example to his Soldiers: Briefly, they gave him so many marks
of their affright and terror, as changing his determination, he only contented himself with reproaching them for their cowardise in a bitter jear, and for the security of his enterprize he
caused them to be shut up in a chamber, where he left them under a Guard, which should
keep them from coming forth. After this he commanded meat to be brought in, but in such
a fashion, as this meal might be rather named a collation, then a supper; fearing lest they
should be too much taken up with good chear. Whil'st then that some did eat standing, and
others were arming themselves with the Arms which the Count had caused to be presented
unto them, he went to Leonora's chamber, who was talking with Sophronia hex sister about
the unquietness she was in to see so many Soldiers in her Palace. As soon as he was entred,
he approached to her, and taking her by the hand, he told her in few words the design he had;
desiring her to pardon him for not having spoken to her of it till then.
The great heart of Leonora found not it self firm enough to remain constant in this occasion; and considering the extream peril whereinto the Count was going to expose himself,
affection and fear troubled her in such sort, as falling at the Counts feet, and her face all bedewed with tears. My Lord, said she unto him, imbracing his knees, to what danger are
you going to expose your self? I conjure you by the thing that is dearest to you in the world,
by the love which I bear to you, by that which you bear to me, by the tears which I shed,
and by your own glory, to preserve my life in preserving yours. The interest of our Country
is dear to me, but yours is yet far more to me. I had rather have Jannetin raign insolently,
then to see you perish for the saving of others. And I stiill resolve with joy to wear chains,
rather then to see my self exposed to the hazard of wearing mourning for your death. But
what say I, sensless as I am? could I preserve my life, if you were no longer living? No, no,




my destiny is tyed to yours; and what my despair could not do in this occasion, my grief alone
would execute. Let Jannetin then, my dear husband, usurp the Empire; let our Country
be ruined; let all our Citizens be made Slaves; provided that you live it imports me not.
For in the end Jannetin may indeed raise himself up into the Throne, but he can never surmount you in greatness of courage and vertue. You have told  me an hundred times, that I made up all your felicity, what do you seek for then, O my dear husband! Is it just, that you
shoud be so far sensible of the complaints of a people, that may be ingrateful, as to lose your
life for their liberty? And that my tears should move you so little, as that you will not preserve me, in preserving your self? What will you have me do in this fatal adventure? Will
you have me, letting you go, attend here the news of your death? Ah! I can never endure
this thought, no more then your design. For, my Lord, what can this design be, which I
see you undertake, without communicating it to your dearest friends? To whom of all those,
which are in this Palace, may I entrust your life? Are you your self assured, that they will
not abandon you? If I saw the generous Justiniano, the French Marquess, and so many other
illustrious friends, which you have, about you, I could say that they would vanquish, or dye
together with you. But in the estate wherein I see you, it may be that those, whom you beleeve to be most faithful unto you, have betrayed you, and have undertaken to destroy you.
Ah! my Lord, give an end to my fears and tears, in changing so deadly a resolution. But if
nevertheless you are determined, as methinks I observe by your looks, not to let your self be
vanquished with my tears, suffer me at leastwise to accompany you; that I may, in this abandonment of all your friends, serve you for a buckler, to bear off all the blows which shall be
made at you; that I may at least expire before your eyes, or you dye in my arms. In fine,
my Lord, permit me to enter into your Charet of Triumph, or into your Tomb with
you.
The Count, feeling himself very much moved with Leonora's tears, and fearing to be surmounted by them, interrupted her with embraces; do not make so ill a presage of my enterprize, said he unto her, and carry that great heart, which I have always admired in
you, to higher and more happy thoughts. I am going to a place, whither Justice and Fortune call me; and if I have concealed this design from my friends, it is because I knew they
loved my life too well to counsel me unto it. And then again I shall be glad, if Heaven will
permit me to prevail over my Enemies, that I have given them a content which hath cost them
nothing; and if I fall in so brave an enterprize, they shall at least wise remain to comfort
you. In fine, my dear Leonora, prepare your minde for all events that may arrive, either
happy, or unhappy; for the business is at such a pass, as I can neither defer, or break it off:
But this I can assure you, that you shall not be long in uncertainty, and that in a few hours you
shall hear of my death, or victory; howsoever it be, remember, that, glory excepted,
I never loved any thing more then you. Farewell, my dear Leonora.
At this word his ambitious Mother came and interrupted him; who knowing that the
Count was touched with his Wives tears, and fearing he should be overcome by them, Go,
go, said she unto him, and call to minde, that if Coriolanus had never been wrought upon
by the tears of a woraan, he had gotten himself the Empire, and preserved his life. Fear not,
my son, that I will be Volumnia in this encounter, but contrarily I command you, as much
as I can, to hasten the execution of your enterprize, for all the time which you have lost
here, would already have served you for your approach to the Throne: Go then, my son, perform an action proportionable to your courage, or finde a death worthy of your birth.
The Count, having heard his Mother speak in this sort, and having told her that he would
obey her, turned himself once again to Leonora, whom grief suffocated, and beholding her
with a troubled countenance, Farewell, said he unto her, either you shall never see me more,
or you shall see your self in Genoua above all others of your sex. At these last words he left
her, without harkening to the generous Pansa, or the sage Sophronia; For as for Leonora,
she was so strucken with the Count's speech and departure, as she fell into a swoon.
In the mean time Baptista Verrin was come back from the Cicy, to assure the Count that
there was no obstacle which could hinder his design; that his Gally was in a posture of fighting, full of a great number of Soldiers, throughly resolved to do their duty, and ready to
shut up the mouth of the Port, by that means besieging all those of Doria. The Count seeing all things in such order as he could have wished, went to his friends again, and having




made all them to take up Arms which were to follow him, he issued out of his Palace three
hours after midnight. And to march in order, he made as it were a Vant-guard of an hundred and fifty of the resolutest Soldiers he had, whom he advanced forty paces before; himself he put in the head of all those young Gentlemen, which he had brought along with him; and after marched in rank, and as it were in a battalion, all the rest of his men. When he was arrived at the Suburbs, he commanded some Soldiers to go under the conduct of a natural
Brother of his, named Cornelio, and seize upon the Bow gate, which was presently executed;
Cornelio finding no other resistance then of a few Soldiers, who being surprized, scare fought
at all. This prosperous success redoubling the Count's courage, he sent Giralomo and Ottobuono his Brothers, with Vincentio Calcagna,
who notwithstanding his natural timidity had
not left following him, to render themseves Masters of Saint Thomas Gate. He descended
afterwards through S. Andrews street to S. Donat, and passing by the place of the Salvages
with his companions, he arrived at the point of Catana. Baptista Verrin went aboard the
Gally, and Thomaso Assereto did what he could to seize upon the gate of Darsene; at first, in regard he was one oJannetin's Officers, and had the word, the Guards suffered him to
enter; but perceiving so great a number of armed man, wherewith he was followed, they
rudely repulsed him: Nevertheless seeing it was necessary, that some one should enter to open
the gate unto the Count, it was resolved that Scipio, one of his subjects, and a Cap ain of
great courage, should cast himself with some Soldiers into little Boats, kept thereof purpose, in case of necessity, and by that means enter by the Sea into the Port, where the Gallies lay, and so facilitate the entrance of the rest of the Conspirators thereinto. This design
was as happily executed, as it was well thought of; for albeit they found some resistance
there, yet in regard the Conspirators were more in number, and incomparably more valorous, it
was easie for them to prevail.
In the mean time the Count was come by Land to that Gate, where with much impatience
he attended the signal that was to be given him, which stayd longer then it ought, by reason
the Gally with her motion and agitation had struck her self a ground, and it was above half
an hour before they could see her afloat again. All these things, which could not be done
without noise, began to raise a great deal; but at length the signal having been given, the
Count, devarcing all his companions, leapt with exceeding courage into Doria's Gallies.
This unexpected violence, and the noise of Arms and Soldiers, having awaked all the Mariners and Slaves, a dreadful and confused din of chains and voyces was suddenly heard. All
the Sailors cryed to Arms, all the Gally-Slaves resounded the name of Liberty, and labored
as much as they could to break off their Irons: But the Count, who knew not what to do
with the Gallies if he had not men, considering what a prejudice the flight of the Slaves
would bring unto him, he cast himself ashore again, and went with all speed to the Admiral,
which with the sudden and unruly motion of them wherewith she was filled, floated leasurely, and seemed as though she would eloing her self from the Land.
Whil'st things past thus in the Port, Giralomo and Ottobuono failed not in that which had
been commanded them; for as soon as they heard the Cannon discharged, which was the
signal that was given to them, they went couragiously with threescore Soldiers to seize on
S. Thomas gate, not onely to render themselves Masters of it, but to pass along unto Doria's
Palace, which was hard by, for to kill Andrea and Jannetin. This enterprze was not so
facile unto the Conspirators, as the former; the Soldiers that guarded this gate defended themselves wel enough; and Sebastiano Lercato with his Brother, whereof the one was the Captain,
and the other the Ensign, coming in, made all the resistance that valiant men could do: But
in the end, some of their Soldiers being corrupted, and the assailants fighting like men that
would vanquish or dye, they were constrained to give place to the stronger, and the gate remained in the power of the Conspirators, the Captain being made a prisoner, and the Ensign
slain there.
In the mean time the cries, clamors, and noise of Arms, which increased in the Port, where
the Gallies were, arrived even at Doria's Palace, which as you know is not far distant from
it, and where Andrea lay sick.	Jannetin's wife first hearing it, awaked her Husband, fearing some rising of the Gally-Slaves; Jannetin rose instantly up, and having harkened a while, he made himself ready in haste, beleeving nevertheless that he should finde nothing else, but some dispute about pay, or some other occasion, that had fallen out amongst the people of his





Gallies. Andrea, more foreseeing then he, and fearing some unlooked for accident, would
not have had him gone forth, but well accompanyed; His Wife cast herself at his feet to
keep him from it: but he, carryed on by his destiny, contemned the counsel of the one, and
the prayers of the other, and went out alone with one Groom of his Chamber, and a Page,
that carryed a Torch before him, without any other Arms, then his single sword. When he
arrived at Saint Thomas gate, which he thought was guarded still by his own followers, according to his insolent humor, whereunto the choller he was in that Time being joyned, he
fiercely commanded them to open unto him. Jannetin's voyce being straightway known of
the Conspirators, they opened the gate, and suffered him to enter without resistance; but
scarcely was he enered, when as a showre of Musket shot fell on him, and layd hm instanely
dead on the ground. This adventure made Giralomo and Ottobuono change the order which
the Count had given them, for going directly to Doria's Palace. For seeing Jannetin dead,
who was the onely man of the Count's Enemies, that could satisfie with his person; and beleeving that the Count had rendred himself Master of the Gallies, they did not think that
Andrea, fourscore years of age, and sick of the gout, could bring any great obstacle to their
design. Moreover they feared, that is they should go to Doria's Palace, the riches of the
booty would withdraw the most part of the Soldiers from the action, and make them quit
their Arms, to lade themselves with the plunder of such rich movables, as it was full of.
In the mean time, the noise and disorder still increasing, Andrea was much troubled for
Jannetin, not being able to imagine what should be the cause of so much stir. But at length
having sent one of his servants, certainly to know the occasion of this Tumult, he brought
him word, that the Count of Lavagna had made himself Master of Genoua; that the Republique was in extream peril; that his Gallies were full of his Enemies; that the people resounded all about the word of Liberty, and the name of Giovanni Lodovico; that furious
men ran up and down with Arms in their hands; that there was nothing seen but blood and
slaughter; and that every where was talking of outrages against the Nobles, and menaces against his life. So dreadful a relation perswading Andrea that the matter was past remedy,
he resolved to attend the violence of his Enemies in his Palace, and to yield to them whom he
could not resist. But his wife, and his servants, with their tears, intreaties and reasons, made
him at last resolve to let himself be carryed down into his Palace-yard, where they see him
on an horse with much ado; in this estate they conducted him to Mazona, which is a Castle
belonging to a Kinsman of mine, and from thence to another place, where they understood
the death of Jannetin, with which he was sensibly touched.
In the mean time the Conspirators still advanced their design; and whereas this noise and
Tumult had awaked every one, all the Count's particular friends having heard the people cry,
Long live the Count of Lavagna, went forth with Arms in their hands to see what the matter was, and to joyn themselves with him; and amongst the rest Doria, the French Marquis,
and I, who by chance lay together that night, going also forth to seek the Count, met some
thirty paces from my lodging, Giralomo with all his Troop, who sought for him as well as
we. All the people, that took his part, required to see their Deliverer; but though there
was crying every where, Long live the Count of Lavagna, and that every one enquired after him, yet no body answered thereunto. This silence made us fear some disastrous success,
yet did it not make them give over the design of pursuing a victory, which seemed so certain. Giralomo left a sufficient Guard at the gates, and sent Ottobuono to take a care of the
Gallies, in case his Brother was not there. The French Marquis followed him, and I stay'd
with Giralomo, who being accompanyed onely with two hundred Soldiers, went, as he
had resolved, through all the streets of Genoua, to cause the people, both with his speeches,
and the hope of Liberty, to rise. And though the Count appeared not, yet each one declared himself for him with earnestly demanding where he was. The City in the mean space
was in a general confusion and consternation; every one ran up and down in the streets, without knowing whither they went; every one asked of one another what was the cause of this
dreadful disorder, without knowing what to answer; the women out of their windows,
in the midst of the cries and lamentations which they made, called for their husbands, their
brothers, and their children. The Nobles, in so great a disorder, would willingly for the
publique interest have resorted to the Palace, that htey might have advised together
what to do, but their particular interest kept them from it, and the doubt they were




in, lest their houses should be plundered in their absence, retained them still there.
Casars Embassador, surprized with this unexpected accident, was upon the point of going out of Genoua, for fear lest the person of the Prince, to whom he belonged, should be
outraged in his; but at length after he had gotten company about him, he resolved to see the
matter decided, and according to occasions to take such a course as should be most advantageous for his Master. To that effect he went to the Palace, where he found Cardinal Doria and some others, who consulted with the Senate, whereof Nicola Franco was the Chief, there
being no Duke at that time. They resolved that Bonifacio Lomellin, one of the Pallaxucins, and Antonio Calvo, with the Ensign of the Guard and fifty Soldiers, should go and
defend S. Thomas Gate; but having on the way encountred with the Troop where we were,
they were constrained to retire into one of their friends houses, but not without leaving some
of their men prisoners. Part of them went in great haste by another street to the same gate to
learn some news of Andrea; but finding it well guarded, and Lomellin having at the very
first been made a prisoner, they fled away with great precipitation, whereat ours were so
joyful, as this prisoner escaped from them.
In the mean time it was not known where the Count was; they that were with Giralomo
thought he was at the Port; they of the Port on the other side believed that he had left them
to repair unto his brothers; Ottobuono not finding him there, thought that he was gone to
visit the Gates, or it may be to Doria's Palace; they of the Gates were perswaded that he
was in the City; in fine, everyone thought anything save the truth. But amongst all the
rest, Baptista Verrin, as having the greatest share in the enterprize, was most earnest in asking after him. He saw the business so well carried, and the Victory so certain, as he was mad
for that he could not see the Count; the Gates of the City were theirs; they were Masters
of the Port; the people favored them; the Nobles seemed to make no opposition; the Senate
had no Duke; Andrea was fled, and had left the field to his Enemies; and Jannetin was
dead; in fine, there wanted nothing but that the Count should shew himself to the people
for receiving the Oath of Allegeance from them. But all Verrin's care was in vain, so that
hearing no news of him, and seeing the enterprize ruined if he did not appear, he retired in
despair unto the Gally, to the end that if the Count came, he might secure him the Port still,
which was a matter of extream importance; and if the enterprize were ruined by his absence,
that he might have the means to fly to Marseilles: This resolution was the cause of very
much mischief to Giralomo; because the Conspirators, neither seeing the Count, who was
their Head, nor Baptista Verrin, who had been always the principal Agent in the Conspiracy, did not so much rely on the conduct of Giralomo, who being very young, and of an
haughty humor, carried things with more impetuosity then discretion: They followed him
for all that out of the hope that the Count would appear ere it were long; but it was not with
that confidence, which makes one abandon his life without unquietness, and obey without
repugnancy an Head whom one esteems, and of whose prudence and valor one is assured, so
that one reserves no more care then to fight and obey: but contrarily the most part began to
murmur, yea and some thought already of seeking some occasion to withdraw, or at leastwise
to go and enquire out the Count. On the other side, the Senate, not knowing what resolution to take, and beleeving that affairs were altogether remediless, desired Cardinal Doria,
and some others, to go and find out the Count of Lavagna, which at first he accepted of, but
some having counselled him not to expose his dignity to the insolencies of a people in fury, he
refused it; and the Senate deputed for the same effect six Gentlemen of quality, with order
to know of the Count what he desired. But at the same time, when as the Deputies went
out of the Palace to seek for the Count, we understood, Madam, the most deplorable adventure that ever arrived: For since our ill fortune must be told you, we learned that the Count,
being returned to Land (as I have already declared to you) from aboard Doria's Gallies, to
go to the Admiral, which he meant to secure himself of, in passing over a plank, which lay
with one end on the Land, and with the other on a little ladder that is near to the Poop, the
Gally stirring somewhat made the plank lose its hold, so that it fell, and in falling tumbled
the Count into the water, who being armed at all pieces could not dis-engage himself from that peril; and even those arms, which he had taken to preserve his life, were the cause of his
death; for had it not been for them, he fell so near the shoar, as it was impossible he should
have been drowned: the tumult and the darkness contributed also very much to his loss,




which was not seen by any of his followers, and that was the reason it was published no
sooner. We had no certain knowledg of it but by the French Marquess, who being gone,
as I have told you, with Ottobuoni, and asking of every one where the Count was, two Mariners of the Admiral, who had seen him fall, and heard his voyce which they knew very well,
as having served him before-times, assured him that he was dead; which having understood
with extream grief, he thought it fit to come unto us, and acquaint Giralomo with it; for as
for Ottobuono he had lost him in the press. He came presently away then, to acquaint us with
this doleful news, but having encountred, as he told us, with a great number of armed men
which issued out of your Palace, whereof the Gate was broken up, he stayed to learn what
the matter might be; and thinking that he knew the voyce of Emilia, whom they were
carrying forcibly away, he pursued them fighting even to the Port.
Isabella hereupon remembred her carrying away, and interrupting Alphonso, Behold, said
she to Emilia, that which we could not comprehend, and the true cause of that dreadful
disorder, whereof I thought that I had been the occasion. And then she recounted, how she
had been forcibly carried away, and after she had testified her gratitude to the French Marquess for the succor he would have given her, and craved pardon of the company for her interrupting Alphonso's relation, he continued his discourse in this sort.
The French Marquess having been a good while pursuing those which carried you away,
it was the cause that we knew not the deplorable death of the Count, till there wanted nothing
but his presence, to make an end of obtaining the Victory: And judg, Madam, whecher there
can be any doubt of this verity, since the Count being dead almost at the beginning of the execution, it may be said that his name alone vanquished all his Enemies: And certainly if he had
lived, the business had had a quite contrary event. For my part I profess unto you, that I shall
never be comforted for this death. Had the enterprize succeeded ill; had any of the Conspirators betrayed him; had the people abandoned him; had the Nobles resisted him; had
Jannetin vanquished him; I should say that these are ordinary things, that these are accidents, whereof there are are examples found: But to see a man of two and twenty years of
age, the goodliest, the handsomest, the most courageous, the most dextrous, the fullest of
spirit, and the most generous that ever was seen, to see him, I say, after he had contrived a
great design; after he had so admirably conducted it; after he had deceived Andrea Doria;
abused the whole Republique; was come not only to the execution, but also had executed
the business; Jannetin being dead, and Andrea himself fled away; after all these things, I say,
to imagine, that this excellent man should fall from off a plank, and be drowned not above
three or four steps from the Land in five food of mud, is so unsupporable to me, Madam, as I
cannot endure the thought of it.
But to testifie unto you, that the Count alone held the Victory in his hands, I am but to
to tell you the end of this enterprize. The French Marquess had no sooner acquainted Giralomo with the death of his brother, but the Deputies from the Senate appeared. At first, some
would have set upon them, nevertheless this tumult being appeased, one of the Deputies advanced, and demanded of Giralomo where the Count was, to acquaint him with what he
had in charge from the Senate; Giralomo surprized with this demand, answered rudely and
inconsiderately, that he should seek for no other Count of Lavagna but himself, for he was
now the Count, and that to him only they were to render up the Palace, which he ordained
them to do, and that with speed. The Deputies understanding by this imprudent answer
that the Count was dead, returned back to advertise the Senate of the change of things by the
death of the Count. This news put them in heart again, so that they instantly commanded
twelve of the chiefest of them, that were come to the Palace, to go and arm as many of the
people as they could, and joyning them with the ordinary guard, to use their uttermost endeavor to chase the Conspirators out of the City, or utterly to defeat them: But there was no
need of fighting to put them to flight, for they were vanquished in the death of the Count;
which being published over all, put one and the same resolution into the minds of all those who had taken up arms for him. And whereas the day began to break, they desired it should
not be said, that they had been in arms against their Citizens; wherefore they began to retire
one after another to their homes: They which had taken arms in the Counts Palace left them
in the streets, for fear lest if their houses should come to be searched, they might have been
convicted of being of the number of the Rebels; and they which contrarily had taken them






in their own homes, carried them thither again, for fear lest leaving them in the streets they
might be accused for making use of them in this occasion. We past not one corner of a street,
but it cost us above thirty Soldiers; some slily slunk away; others ran away as hard as they could drive; and in conclusion, they which guarded the Gates abandoned them: Things went
in that manner, as when Giralomo came to S. Lawrence's Church, which was fast by the Palace, he was almost alone.
In the mean time the generous Pansa having been sent for by the Senate, who perfectly
knew the vertue of this excellent man, he so wrought with them, that he got them to change
the order they had given for fighting with Giralomo, into that of propounding unto him his
departure out of Genoua, his retiring unto Montobio which belonged to him, and pardoning
in consideration of him all the Conspirators, provided they continued still in the City. Pansa
was chosen to make this proposition, which was accepted, and executed instantly. So that
the break of day arriving, one would have said, that the blood which was seen spilt on the
ground; the bodies of those that had been slain; the houses that had been broken up; and
so many other disorders, whereof the marks were evident; had been the work of an invisible
hand. No Enemy appeared, all the Tradesmen were in their shops, every man was in his
house, and Genoua was never in a greater tranquillity, at leastwise as we were told afterwards:
For as for us, as soon as we understood of the Counts death, we went diredly to his Palace
to save his dear Leonora; Doria's interest in Sophronia made him go thither with incredible
speed; and though he was Jannetin's kinsman, yet having never affected him, and been hardly used by Andrea, his love met with no very mighty obstacle to overcome. The French
Marquess was carried thither by his own generosity, and I by the desire I had to serve the
Count in the person of Leonora at such time as we left Giralomo, he had still some Soldiers
about him, so that beleeving him to be in safety enough we went to the Counts Palace, fearing some violence would be offered to her; there we met with Horatio, come thither as well
as we, and at the same instant, with a Gentleman from Ottobuono, who after he knew of
his brothers death, had gotten with Baptista Verrin, Raphaello Sacco, and Vincentio Calcagna, into the Counts Gally for to fly away; but being moved with compassion for Leonora, he sent this Gentleman to will her that she would get her self to be safely conducted to
the Port, where she might save her self with him. We being then thus all encountred here together, Sophronia, who had heard of our repair thither, left Leonora on her bed, and came
out unto us; for she rightly imagined, that it may be we had some dismal news to tell, which
was not fit for her to know. She presently discerned by our looks the misfortune that was
arrived unto us; but it being no time to lament, we arrested our tears and her sighs, and declaring unto her the estate of things, we represented unto her, that we were not to suffer the
Count to be outraged in the person of Leonora; that her loss was undoubted if she stayed
longer in this Palace; that the people peradventure would come and set it on fire; or it may
be the Senate would cause it to be razed to the ground; and that in fine it was requisite by
flight to avoyd outrages worse then death; that Julio Cibo her eldest brother hated them all;
that it would be glorious for her to make away with a brother of her husbands; and in conclusion, that it was for her to perswade Leonora to the taking of this resolution; that for
us, we protested unto her, that we would follow her fortune; and that the Counts mother,
albeit the cause of his loss, was notwithstanding to be set in a place of safety, for the glory of
her son; for fear lest some extraordinary violence should be used against her.
Sophronia having mused a while said, She was confident that Leonora, if once she came to
know the death of the Count, would never think of preserving her life; that the only fear of
it had already put her into such a violent despair, as it would be impossible to make her resolve
for that which they desired of her, when she should be assured of it. Doria, having heard this
objection, said, that Leonora was to be beguiled, and only told, that the Counts enterprize having succeeded ill, he was retired into his Gally, whither he willed her to repair, having to that
purpose sent us for her; and for fear she should come to know the truth of the matter, his mother also was to be beguiled in the same manner.
This advice being well approved of, we entred iuto Leonora's chamber, who no sooner
saw us, but she rose up, and with a dismayed countenance and tears in her eyes, she demanded
of us, whether the Count were dead? we answered her as we had before resolved; and declaring the business unto her with as many circumstances as we could, to render it the more





probable, we so wrought with her, that she believed us, and constantly resolved for her flight.
We found not the same facility in the Counts mother; What, said she unto us, doth he, who
promised me to vanquish or to dye, prepare himself to fly? Ah! base and inconsiderate, cryed she, I will go and find thee out, not to fly away with thee, but to oblige thee once more to fight, and if I cannot do that, I shall at leastwise have the satisfaction of reproaching thee for thy want of courage. This said, she marched foremost, and I advanced to lead her; Sophronia
took a little casket wherein her sisters jewels were, and unto her Doria lent his hand; the
French Marquess conducted Leonora; as for Horatio, he followed alone, being very much
grieved to abandon Hipolita: But Fortune, who was willing to favor him, so ordered it, that
being arrived just before Doria's house, we heard people coming in wonderful haste, which
without doubt were some of them that fled; finding our selves then in so commodious a place
for to let them pass by, we entred into Doria's house; and whereas Hipolita was exceedingly
troubled both for her brother and her Lover, she no sooner heard their two voyces, mingled with some womens, but she came down to us, and understanding our design, What,
said she to her brother, will you abandon me? I do not abandon you, sister, answered he,
but Love and Fortune do snatch me from you. Hipolita's mother was dead not long before,
so that having nothing to retain her at Genoua, and not knowing withall what should become
of her, she made use of all these reasons to perswade her brother he would permit her not to
abandon him, or to speak more truly, not to quit Horatio. What, said she unto him, will
you have me stay here, that Andrea may revenge himself on me, for the injury which he believes he hath received from you? And having lost my mother, and seeing my self forsaken of
my brother, shall I abide here without support and comfort? I do not desire you to leave Sophronia, but that you will permit me to follow her. Hipolita spake this with so much grief,
that every one was couched with it. And when as Horatio prayed Sophronia, that she would
oblige Doria to consent thereunto, Doria imbraced his sister with a great deal of affection, and
told her, that he was ravished wieh her generosity.
Hipolita having obtained her desire, and we no longer hearing any passing by, we proceeded on in our way towards the Port, where we arrived without any obstacle. Ottobuono's Gentleman conducted us to the Count's Gally, where we were received, and Leonora
put into the Captains Cabbin, being told that the Count would come thither to her. The
Mother, when she was there, asked of every one, where the Count was? I approached to
her, and told her that she should know ere it were long. In the mean time we were no
sooner got aboard, bue we propounded the sending to Giralomo, that he might come to save
himself with us. Verrin without harkening thereunto, commanded them to steer for Marseilles, whereupon all the Slaves betaking them to their Oars, the Gally made from the Port,
which was left sree and open to the Turks, who had abandoned their own Vessel and taketi
one of Doria's Gallies, named the Temperance. They went away in this fort, and could
never be overtaken by two Gallies, which were sent after them the next day. The most part
of the Gally-Slaves having knocked off their Irons, stole all the Arms, and all that they could
lay hold of; and getting away, they alone enjoyed the liberty, which the Count would have
acquired for himself.
This while, Madam, we remained in the Gally of this illustrious infortunace man, but
with so much grief, as never voyage had so sad a beginning. Baptista Verrin was mad to see his enterprize broken; Vincentio Calcagna upbraided him with being the cause of all this mischief; Raphaello Sacco repended him for having counselled so unlucky a design; and Ottobuono, without testifying his thoughts, continued in a silence, that would not permit us to know what they were. As for the rest of us, although we had all of us misfortunes, which diversly regarded us, yet the death of the Count prevailed over all our other sufferings, and his loss in this occasion made up all our sorrow. In the mean season, Leonora, not seeing him, and perceiving the Gally make from the Port, pressed Sophronia that she might see him, and hearing her sister make her no precise answer, she of her self knew the misfortune that was happened unto him: And when as we entred into her chamber all at one time, and that she saw him not amongst us, she cryed out, and said, There is no longer doubt but that the Count is dead! The Count dead! said the Mother with a great deal of precipitation. Yes, Madam, continued Vincentio Calcagna, who was extreamly touched with this loss, and dead by your commandment: you enjoyned him to vanquish or to dye, and he hath done both,




Madam; for he is dead after the death of his Enemy. We were very sorry that this man had
delivered the matter so bluntly before the infortunace Leonora, who unable to support so
many sorrows at once, swooned in the Arms of Sophronia.
As for the Count's Mother, she entred into a rage that cannot be represented unto you
the apprehensions of a Mother having re-assumed their place in her soul, she said all that grief,
anger, repentance, fury, and despair could make one say. Oh! cryed she, it is I that have
layd the Count in his grave! I am thinking of my safety, and making from a place, where
it may be I should be punished for the crime I have commited! Ah, no, no, I must be carryed
back to Land; I must go and be torn in pieces by an enraged people: I must acquaint
them that I am the onely cause of the Conspiracy, and so losing my life by their fury, receive
the punishment which I deserve.But whil'st this ambitious woman repented her of her violence, and punished her self for
her own fault, the unhappy Leonora came out of her swoon; she had no sooner opened her
eyes, but turning her self to her sister, she demanded of her where the Count's body was,
and pray'd her that at least-wise they would let her see it. We thought then, to the end her
grief might not be renewed another time, that it was best to tell her the truth of the matter,
and acquaint her, that being drowned, his body was not in our power. This last circumstance of the Count's misfortune, redoubled Leonora's affliction. Could I not at least, said
she with a languishing voyce, have had the consolation to be inclosed with him in the same
Tomb? scarcely had she ended those words, but suddenly passing from one extremity to another, she rose up with violence, and intreated us that we would leave her on the shore, there
to spend her life in seeking for the body of her dear Husband. And when as we resisted her
intreaties, she termed us ingrateful, cruel, and insensible; nay she would have rid her self
out of our hands, to have gone and cast her self into the Sea; but at length the excess of
her grief, and her weakness, made her tumble down again into Sophronia's arms, almost
without any sense; and after that, as long as we were upon the Sea, we never heard her
speak but once onely, which was the next day at night, when as there arose so furious a tempest, as we verily believed we should have suffered shipwrach. Leonora, having observed
by the cries of the Mariners that we were in danger, seemed to receive some consolation from
it; then looking on Sophronia and Hipolita, whom the fear of death, which they believed
to be so near, possessed with strange unquietness; Do not afflict your selves, said she unto
them, I am too unhappy to suffer shipwrack, and death will be sure not to succor me.But not to weary you with so doleful a relation, I shall tell you in few words, that the tempest redoubled in such sort, that it drove us to Albengua, where Leonida having a house, was
gone thither a good while before. we had no sooner cast anchor, but having been advertised
of the mishap of her dear friends, she came to visit them, and would so far take part with
them in their afflictions, that when we had furnished our selves with another Vessel at Albengua, and were putting forth again to Sea, she would not abandon them. But I
forget that it is not yet time to speak of our departure from Albengua; you shall understand then that at such time as we arrived there, Leonora suffered her self to be
carried whither soever one would, and without so much as demanding where we were,
so exceedingly was her Soul possest with sorrow. As tor the Counts mother, the distemper whereinto she had put her self with her crying, lamentations, and repentance, brought
her to so violent a feaver, as refusing all kind of remedies she dyed a little after. And to make
an end of telling you the whole sequel of the Counts Conspiracy, you are to understand that
which we learned at Albengua, where we tarryed a good while, which is, that after we
parted from Genoua, and that Giralomo was retired to Montobio, the Count's body was
found; and dead as he was, remained still a terror to his Enemies. Andrea would not suffer
him to be exposed to the view of the people, for fear left so deplorable an object should cause
some sedieion, and the love which was born to him should renew the passed disorders.
In the mean time Ottobuono took our Gally, and left us at Albengua that he might with
the more speed get to Marseilles; Baptista Verrin, and his two friends, abandoned us also,
and putting themselves into Montobia, the Senate, having elected a Duke, retracted the abolition they had given to the Conspirators. And for that effect, they confiscated all the Counts
Estate, declared his two Brothers Rebels to the Republique, and then sent Pansa to perswade Giralomo to render up Montobio, where he had fortified himself. But Giralomo, who by




nature was boisterous, answered him as if he had a minde to augment the suspition which
they had of him, that he held that place in the name of a Prince, more mighty then the
Senate, meaning in this occasion the King of France unto whom the illustrious family of the
Counts of Lavagna, have always been much affected. This answer exasperated things in
such sort, as shortly after Montobio was besieged by Angustino Spinola, on whom this employment was conferred, and so hardly layd unto, that Baptista Verrin counselled Giralomo
to render at discretion, which he instantly did. But within a while Baptista Verrin had
cause to repent him of his bad counsel; for Andrea Doria, seeing the Senate inclined to clemency, came thither in person, and spake with so much vehemency, as he caused them to
change their mindes, and carryed matters to their uttermost violence, by making them to be
put to death against the publique sence.
Behold, Madam, what the deplorable fortune of the Count hath been; as for the rest of
us, after we had taken another Vessel at Albengua, and being put again to Sea would have
directed our course for Marseilles, our navigation was not nore prosperous this second time
then formerly it had been; for we were not far from the Port, when as the tempest began
again with such fury, as during six days and six nights we were continually in expectation of being cast away. At length a calm having succeeded the storm, we came to discover Land;
but we were mightily surprized, when as our Pilot assured us, that that which we saw was
the City of Marocco. Our Vessel was so bruised, as we resolved to land there; and this design being executed, the King of Marocco received of with a great deal of courtesie. Now
for that which arrived unto us there, and for that which brought us to Constantinople, I
think it will be requisite to refer the relation thereof to another time: And whereas the beautiful Hipolita and Sophronia have a greater share in it then I, you shall, if you please, learn the
sequel of our fortune from their mouths.
It is without doubt very deplorable, said Isabella, and I can assure you, that I have not
felt that motion in my heart, which they say is so ordinary with every one, and causes us in
some sort to be comforted for our miseries, when we see others infortunate as well as our
selves; but contrarily I finde my sorrow augmented thereby. That proceeds from your generosity, said Sophronia unto her, but do not lament the Count so much, as not to reserve
some sighs for my sister, whom we have lost as well as he, with the grief she took for his
death. The Princess hereupon redoubled her complaints, which had not finished so soon, if
a Capigibassi had not come and told her, that it was time to return to the old Serraglio, because the gates thereof were always used to be shut somewhat early. Isabella rose up blushing, and without any resistance, parted somewhat unwillingly from her dear friends promising to come and see them again the next day: Howbeit she would needs conduct these three
fair persons to their lodging first, for they would at no hand lie asunder in several chambers.
And after that she had rendred them this civility whether they would or no; and after that
Doria, Horatio, and Alphonso had waited upon her and Emilia to her Charet, she returned
to the old Serraglio with the same magnificence, as she came from thence.
IBRAHIM: OR, THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.The Fourth Part.The First Book.ISabella was no sooner awake the next day, but the Slave, which Roxellana
had suborned, came and told her from the Grand Signior, that at length his
care had not been in vain; that after a very exact search, the Slave, whose
liberty she had desired, had been found out, and sent immediately to Ibrahim's Palace unto his other friends; and that the Sultan intreated she would
be pleased he might come and visit her. Isabella not daring to refuse a favor unto a Prince, who accorded her so many, answered, that the Sultan
did her too much honor, and how she was very glad that in coming to visit her he gave her
the opportunity to thank him for the new obligation wherein she stood engaged unto him.
This Slave then left the Princess, and went unto Soliman, to whom, according to the directions she had for it, she amplified Isabella's civilities, and with that which she delivered, perswaded him, that the Princess might be acquainted, without any great offence, with the passion he was in for her. In this opinion he went to the old Serraglio, with a determination to
use some artifice to keep her from going so often to visit her friends. In the mean time Isabella had used such diligence in making her self ready, as she had leasure to go, before Soliman
repaired to her lodging, and intreat the Sultana Asteria, that she would be with her when
as the Grand Signior should come to see her, as he had sent her word he would, imagining that
her presence might stop him from saying any thing to her that would offend her, if it were so
that he had a mind thereunto. Asteria, who loved Isabella, would by no means deny her,
so that when the Sultan arrived thete, he found them both together; yet durst he not testifie
how much he was displeased at it, but contrarily magnified Asteria's good hap, in that she
could always be with her; commended her for the care she had taken to make her self agreeable to
her; thanked Isabella for the affection she shewed her; and after a long complement,
which still gave her occasion to increase her suspicions, he suffered her at length to render him
thanks for the French Marquess his liberty, and to crave his permission for her to go and rejoyce her self with her dear friends.
Soliman blusht at this request, and after he had stood a pretty while silent, he assured her
that she might absolutely do whatsoever she pleased: Nevertheless if she would permit him
to speak freely in this occasion, he would confess unto her, that he should be glad she would
not go forth every day, because the people might at length find something to say, upon seeing
so extraordinary a liberty of going in and out of the Serraglio; that the SSultana Queen, who
might do so when she would, seldom or never made use of that liberty: Wherefore he prayed her to have some regard to the waywardness of the people, who peradventure might fall
into some sedition, wherein her friends might be involved; that he did not desire she should not
go thither any more, but only that she should not go every particular day; howsoever he assured
her that she might do as she pleased, chusing rather to expose his Empire to all things, then to
expose himself to the hazard of her displeasure by constraining her in any thing. Isabella answered as she ought to so obliging a discourse, howbeit she requested the Sultan to permit
her to visit them for two or three days more together, because she had an extream desire to understand all their adventures, and after that she promised his Highness she would not see them so
often. The Sultan, who was willing to win the heart of Isabella, and to vanquish her rather
with courtesie then with violence, consented to her request, and the more to comply with her
also, he went away from her sooner then he had determined, to give her the longer time for the
visiting of her friends; unto whom likewise, for a greater demonstration of his favor unto her,
he sent most magnificent presents, as soon as he was returned to his Serraglio.
In the mean time Isabella, after she had given thanks to the Sultana Asteria for her assistance, and had increaeed her to continue it to her, entred into a Charet with Emilia, and went
unto Ibrahim's Palace, where she found a great deal of joy for the return of the French Marquess, who in his parcicular was not a little glad to learn from his friends the happy encounter
they had made of Isabella, which had caused both their liberty and his. He no sooner knew
then that she was arrived, but he descended in all haste to go and receive her: And whereas
the change of places, misfortune, and slavery, had brought none to his humor, he scarcely
saw her appear before he advanced to kiss her robe; I do not know, Madam, said he unto her,
whether I ought rather to give you thanks for breaking my chains here in Constantinople, or
to complain of you for that you are going to give me others in making me see Emilia again.
Isabella not able sufficiently to admire the tranquillity of the Marquess his mind; I should
not have believed, answered she him smiling, that ever I could have envied yeu, but I acknowledg to you now, that I would willingly be almost of your humor, for in fine, be it vertue or insensibility, you are ever happy. The Marquess was going to answer her, but the arrival of Sophronia, Hipolita, and Leonida, of Horatio, Doria, and Alphonso, kept him
from it, whereof he was not sorry, to the end he might make a complement in particular to
Emilia, who without doubt was somewhat joyful to see the Marquess; for although she had
no great affection for him, because she was not capable of it, yet did she infinitely esteem of
him, and bore a great deal of good-will to his person.
After this fair Troop had used many civilities to one another, they entred all into Ibrahim's
chamber, where Isabella, to husband the time which she had to be with a company, that
was so agreeable to her, desired them to acquaint her with the sequel of their misfortunes.
The Marquess, beginning first to speak, said, that for his part he had none but good fortunes
to relate unto her since his coming to Constantinople. Therefore, said the Princess, they shall
be kept for the last, as indeed it is fittest that I should understand things in order as they fell
out. Hipolita seeing it was but reason, intreated her brother Doria, that he would take the
pains to do it, upon condition nevertheless that he should spare her in some parts of his relation, by omitting certain things, which he called Caprichioes, andd which she was perswaded
was an effect of soveraign reason. Doria accepted of this commission, but howsoever he told his sister, that he would be a true Historian, and since she believed that Reason always ruled her thoughts, she needed not to fear they should be known. Isabella apprehending that this dispute would make Doria lose time, prayed him not to harken to Hipolita, who questionless
could not take it ill, that any thing should be known which she had done. Doria, according to the Princesses desire, without giving any further ear to his sister, began to speak thus, as soon as ever this fair Troop was set.
The History of HIPOLITA, SOPHRONIA, and LEONIDA.I Will not renew Sophronia's sorrow in particularizing unto you the loss of Leonora, since it
will suffice me to tell you, that her end had no other cause but her affliction; and that her
destiny was such, as dying on the main Sea, we were constrained to give her the same Tomb,
which the injustice of Fortune had given her illustrious husband: But to get away speedily
from so lamentable an adventure, you shall understand, that we were no sooner arrived at
Marocco, but we lost all that the Tempest had left us, that is to say, the wrack of the Vessel
and our liberty. For whereas they knew us at the first sight to be Christians, hardly had we
cast anchor when as they made us Slaves. Indeed it is true, that in the beginning our servitude
was easie enough; for as our good Fortune would have it, the Princess Mariama, sister to
King Abdalla, who raigns at Marocco, passed accidentally along by the Port when as we
were making into it; and this Princess seeing our ship without sails, without rudder, the
tackle torn, the sail-yards broken, and every part of it almost battered in pieces, she caused
the Charet, wherein she was, to stay, that she might see us land, and know of what Nation
we were: for the Tempest had left our Vessel no marks, whereby it might be known. When
as we came near the Port, whither the wind, rather then the skill of the Pilot, conducted us,
there was not one in the Ship which got not up on the deck to behold this Land, where we
hoped, if we did not find a refuge, at leastwise we should escape casting away: So that the
Princess Mariama, having observed women amongst us, redoubled her curiosity and compassion much the more. As soon as ever we touched Land, then she commanded us to be brought
unto her, that she her self might know who we were, and what our fortune had been. This
order having been observed, they led us before this Princess; and verily this first encounter
was an happy presage for us, and an extream consolation for the beautiful Sophronia,Leonida,
and Hipolita; for this Princess hath so much majesty and sweetness, as she caused in us both
a great deal of respect, and a great deal of hope. And whereas she had noted by our apparel
that we were of Italy, and not understanding that Tongue, she would not stand to send for
an Interpreter, but thought that some of us peradventure could speak Spanish, which she understood perfectly, and is common enough throughout all the Kingdoms of Fez, Tunis, and
Marocco, by reason of the neighborhood of Spain with this part of Africa, and of the Wars
and Commerce, which in former times they have had one with another, especially before
the Kings of Granado, who were originally Moors, were subdued by Ferdinando and Isabella,
And truly she was not deceived in her conjecture, for there was not any of us but spake it well,
or at leastwise could make our selves be understood in it.
When as this Princess saw that her design had succeeded, she testified as much joy for it as
we did; and having demanded of us whither we were going, of whence we were, and in
what place we had been taken with the Tempest? we told her all things as they had past,
without acquainting her nevertheless with the occasion that had caused us to part from Genoua, and without telling her our names, and falling at her feet we besought her to protect
us; for by the respect which was rendred to her, and by her train, we believed she was Queen
of Marocco. This excellent Princess made us rise up wieh a great deal of courtesie; and being touched with the charms of those whom we conducted, she took an affection to us, and
resolved to serve us as much as she could. But whereas she was willing to observe in all
things the respect which she owed to the King her brother, she took up Sophronia, Leonida,
and my sister, into the Charet to her, and commanding us to follow her, she willed some of
the Guard that attended upon her, to lend us their horses. We went in this manner to Abdalla's Palace, whom we found alone with his Favorite, called Ali-Ben Ducar, a man of a
great spirit, but cruel and ambitious. As soon as Mariama appeared, and that the King
saw her followed by so many unknown persons, and chiefly of three fair women (if my sister
can suffer me to put her in that number) he was so surprized therewith, that advancing presently towards her, he said to her in her language, (as Mariama recounted unto us afterwards,) What adventure is befallen you? from what War are you come? what Conquest
have you made? and by what good hap have you met with so fair a Troop? The Princess
Mariama, who had so much goodness, as that she would not be suspected of us, said unto
him in Spanish, (for he understood it as well as she,) that Fortune having put so many afflicted




persons into her hands, she came to crave permissions of him, that she might take care of them, protect them, and restore them to their liberty.Aly, who understood this Tongue, and that all the time of Mariama's discourse had eyed Hipolita, as well as Abdalla, with a great deal of attention, and it may be already with a great deal of love, approached and said in Spanish, that one must needs be very inhumane, which would
not protect such beautiful persons; but, continued he, speaking to Mariama in
her natural Tongue, you may not, Madam, deprive these three fair creatures, of the honor of
being your Slaves; Liberty cannot be so happy to them as this servitude, and you will be
cruel to them in using them otherwise. Aly hath reason, replyed the King in his his langauge, and
to content you and them to, I permit you to take care of them, and to protect them; and I do
withall conjure you to retain them in your service. You know that all the Christians are our
Enemies, so that to set them at liberty, when we have them in our hands, were to violate
our Religion, and to infringe our laws, wherefore accept of these fair strangers for your
Slaves: But whereas their beauty deserves a gentler usage then others, give them no other,
said he smilmg, but cords of silk to retain them. My Lord, answered Mariama, the greatest
of all good things is Liberty, and by consequence the greatest of all evils is servitude; there
are no chains that are not heavy, and the less they be, the more do they straiten him that wears
them; In fine, my Lord, either they do load him, or they do wring him, and both the one and
the other is always grievous.
It was in this sort, Madam, that the Princess Mariama spake to obtain our liberty; and
that which carried her yet more to oblige us, was, because Aly, whom she extreamly hated,
had at first opposed our deliverance with speeches of gallantry. But at length, seeing her persist too much in her demand, he by an artificial discourse coloured the matter with the publique good, and gave the King a pretext to follow his inclination, by obliging Mariama to
retain these three fair Slaves in her service. It being so resolved then, the King used them
with a great deal of civilicy, and having demanded of them what we were unto them? they
answered, that we were their brothers, and besought him that we might not be separated
from them. As for us, seeing we might be understood, we humbly requested the King to
intreat us as free men; and to consider that we had been driven into Marocco by a Tempest;
that howsoever if he would notwithstanding have a ransom of us, we desired he would be
pleased to set it down, to the end we might seek out the means to satisfie him. But thereunto he answered no otherwise, but that the next day we should receive his pleasure; and
instantly we were conducted to a lodgng, which was in the outward Court of the Palace,
where we had a Guard set upon us. In the mean time the Princess Mariama, being moved
with the tears and intreaties of these three afflicted ones, permitted them to remain with us,
on condition that they should spend three or four hours of the day at her lodging, praying them
not to be grieved, and to hope for all things from her assistance.
But, Madam, that you may the better comprehend the sequel of our History, I am to relate
unto you a part of Mariama's, and acquaint you in what estate the Court of Marocco was
at that time. I will not stand for all that to tell you by what Artifices, two Xeriffes, that is
to say amongst them, two holy men, and descended of the race of their Prophet Mahomet,
invaded the two Kingdoms of Marocco and Taradant; but I will only tell you, that these
two Xeriffes, though they were brothers, could not content themselves with the partition
they had made of their Conquests; and after many breaches of promise on either side, they
came at last to Arms. Whil'st they were in good terms together, Hamet, who was the
eldest, and to whom the Kingdom of Marocco was fallen for his share, had married Mariama, daughter to Mahomet his brother, King of Sus or Taradant, to Muley Zidan, the eldest
of his sons; so that when the War began between these two brothers, the fair and vertuous
Mariama found her self on the party of her fathers enemy; and whatsoever she could do, it
was impossible for her to make them change their resolution. Seeing then that her prayers, her
tears, and perswasions were all to no purpose with her father-in-law Hamet, and that Muley Zidan, her husband, told her, how he could not but follow him in this War, who had
given him birth; that he was not an enemy to Mahomet, but only an obedient son; that it
was not for children to ask who were the enemies of those to whom they owed their lives,
but only to hazard them against whomsoever they were, for the conservation of the lives of
them, who had given them theirs. This wise Princess seeing, I say, things in this estate, abode




in Marocco, and without making vows for the victory, either of the one or the other, she
wished that their Arms would fall out of their hands, and that Reason might be stronger in
them then ambition. Bat things went not after this sort; for after many encounters, wherein the Kings of Marocco, and Taradant, had each in their turn had the better and the worse,
the chance of war being fallen in the end on Hamet, she saw Muley Zidan her Husband return almost alone of all his whole Army, which had been utterly defeated, and acquaint her
with tears in his eyes, that his Father, and a Brother which he had, named Muley Buaçon,
were prisoners in the hands of Mahomet. This vertuous Princess hearing this news, had generosity enough to weep for the victories of her Father; and when as she saw that her Husband, after he had assembled together all the Alfaquis, Cavaliers, and Captains that were in
Marocco to advise on that which might be done, found out no expedient which could be
commodious for him, she presenced her self unto the Councel, and demanded the permission
to go and cast her self at the feet of Mahomet her Father, to endevor the effecting of a peace;
or to offer her self, and chree children she had, for the ransom of Hamet; or to obtain at
least that she might serve him during his captivity, if her tears could not move her Fathers heart.
So generous a proposition was approved of by the whole Assembly; and Mulay Zidan
went himself to conduct his wife and his children forth of the Gates of the City; yet was he
in some trouble to part with her, out of the fear he was in, lest Mahomet, knowing how ardently she was beloved of him, should retain her without rendering up his Father, and without harkening to peace. But she assured him, that when as she could no longer be useful to
her Father-in-law, nothing but death alone should keep her from returning back to him again.
The voyage of this sage Princess was not fruitless; and albeit that her Father was one of the
greatest Politicians in the World, and one of the most ambitious Princes on the Earth, yet
her Reasons, her Tears, and her Prayers drew him to grant her the liberty of Hamet and
Muley Buaçon, and by a Treaty, as reasonable as if Hamet had not been a prisoner, they
contracted a peace which seemed inviolable.
But scarcely was Mariama re-entred into Marocco as it were in triumph, after she had
brought the King thither again; scarcely had Muley Zidan her Husband rendred her thanks
for so brave an action, but that Hamet began to assemble new forces, and to say, that whatsoever he had promised in prison, was not to be kept; and for that effect he went out of Marocco to go and make new Levies himself; but at this time the victory fell to the juster side.
For during Hamet's absence, Mahomet having been advertised of his designs, came to Marocco, and made hitnself Master of the City, partly by force, and partly also by the revolt
of some, who could not approve of Hamet's changings: So that when he thought to return
to Marocco with Mulay Zidan, who had followed after him with an intentto divert him
from the design he had to make war, he understood that he was a King without a Kingdom;
and that the people, who ever follow the victorious party, had acknowledged Mahomet for
King of Marocco. This Prince was so mightily strucken with this advencure, that abandoning all things he retired to one, named Cidy Ben Cecy, who lived solitarily in the Mountains,
and past amongst them for a very great and holy person. As for Muley Zidan, he retired to the King of Fez their confederate.
In the mean time, Mariama, who was in the City when it was taken, carryed by
her ordinary generosity, and fearing lest she should have been suspected for contributing
somewhat thereunto, cast her self at her Fathers feet to obtain leave of him to follow the
infortunate party. And when as he refused her, she suborned one of the Captains that guarded the gates, and accompanyed with two women, and some of her servants, she got out
one night, and went to Cidy Ben Cecy's retirement. This action so touched Mahomet's heart, as it carryed him once again to treat with his Brother, but it was upon condition, that he should not re-enter into Marocco, because he had promised so much to the inhabitants, who feared to be ill-intreated by him.
But not to prolong this discourse any further, you shall understand that Hamet recommenced the War four or five times, and that so often Mariama obtained his liberty, and always followed his and her Husbands fortune. Howbeit in the end Mahomet, after he had conquered the Kingdom of Fez, took him in the last War, and committed him to close prison, with four of his children, and three of Mariama's, because he accused Muley Zidan her





Husband for haying succored the King of Fez, whil'st he made war upon him: And the unhappy Zidan having been taken, lost his life, by the command of him, whose daughter he had
marryed. True indeed it is, that it was by the counsel of Aly, who afterwards was Abdalla's
favorite, and in the absence of Mariama, who at that time was not with her Father.
In fine, not to aggravate the sorrow of this excellent Princess, Mahomet dyed a little while
after, and Abdalla the eldest of his children succeeded him; having ordained by his Testament, that after him the second of his sons should succeed, and in order all his other brothers, without any pretence to be made by any of Abdalla's children to the Crowns of Marocco, Fez, and Taradant, as long as their Uncles lived. At such time as Mahomet dyed,
Abdalla was not at Marocco, so that when the news of his death arrived there, Aly, who
commanded in the City, and was Visier of the Kingdom, which is the next dignity to the
King, fearing left the people should revolt, and should draw Hamet and Mariama's children
out of prison, to see them on the Throne which appertained to them, carryed by an inconsiderate zeal, and an extream cruelty, caused the infortunate Hamet, and his children, together with Mariama's, to be put to death, for the assuring of the Crown to Abdalla, whose
favorite he would be, as he had been Mahomet's. And truly it was not hard for him to be
so; for whereas this man was very great in riches, most mighty in friends, of an extraordinary courage, having a great deal of prudence and wit, and much more ambition, there
would have been folly, and no little hazard, for whomsoever would have enterprized to dis-oblige him.
Abdalla, though grieved with that which Aly had done, yet named it an excess of zeal
and affection, rather then inhumanity; and continuing him in his Commands, committed
unto him almost the whole sway of his Kingdoms. But in some sort to repair this cruelty,
he took care to dry up the tears of the Princess Mariama, inforced her to return to the
Court, made her to be reverenced as the Queen of all his States, would have perswaded her
that Aly was not altogether culpable of the death of Hamet and her children, and would exact no other thing of her, but to live in good terms with Aly. This Princess, who was no
less prudent then vertuous, made as if she believed that which the King her Brother told her,
albeit in her heart she bare an irreconciliable hatred to Aly. And indeed she lived so well
with him, without doing any thing for all that unworthy of her great minde, as it was believed, that the consideration of her Brother, and her own vertue, had made her forget,
that Aly had counselled the death of her Husband, and had caused her Father-in law, and her
children to be killed. But you shall perceive by the sequel of this History, that she had other
manner of designs.
Behold then, Madam, the estate wherein the Court of Marocco was at such time as we
were driven thither by tempest. Abdalla was peaceable in his Estates, the Princess Mariama
was very powerful with him, and Aly shared with her in Abdalla's heart. I think that after
this you will the less marvel, when you shall come to know that this vertuous Princess set her
self so strongly and so readily to protect us, in regard she was carryed thereunto, both by her
own vertue, and the hate she bare to Aly, as you shall understand by the sequel of this discourse. But to come to that which touches us directly, I am to tell you, that whether Sophronia's extream affliction had rendered her eyes less powerful then they used to be, or Leonida's negligence had taken off some of her charms, or that my sister, having a complexion
not so clear as her fellows, was the more suitable to that of the Country, it was she that
made Abdalla and Aly her Slaves; and who by consequence was the cause that we were so too.
You have promised, said Horatio interrupting him, to be a faithful Historian; wherefore,
without digressing from your subject, relate onely the effects of Hipolita's beauty, and not
establish your self the judg thereof. The Marquis could not forbear laughing at this discourse, no more then Sophronia and Leonida, nor Hipolita blushing, and all out of different apprehensions: but at length after some civilities had past betwixt them, Doria continued his discourse
in this sort. Hipolita then having seemed beautiful, both to the King, and to his Favorite, they had both of them a design not to give liberty to a person, who had already somewhat engaged theirs: But whereas this first sense of love was not yet very strong in their soul, they said nothing of it to one another, and onely resolved together, that we should be retained as Slaves; but whereas ill fortune had brought in to Marocco, and that we were not





their Enemies, but because we were Christians, therefore we should be treated very gently, yea
and hope given us that in time we might obtain our liberty. This resolution taken, all our
Soldiers and Mariners were the next day committed to safe custody without any other ill
usage offered unto them; and for us, they contented themselves with leaving us under the
guard they had formerly assigned us, with this difference nevertheless, that we were separated
from Sophronia, Leonida, and Hipolita; for it was Abdalla's absolute pleasure, that they
should abide in the service of the Princess Mariama, and that they should lie in her lodgings;
but with this grace for us, that we should be permitted to go sometimes and see them, or
they to come and visit us. This extraordinary favor having been granted to us, against the
custom of the Country, by the goodness of Mariama, whom these new Slaves always found
ready to render them all kinde of good offices. It is certain that this separation was grievous
unto us, and seeing the terms wherein we stood, we were almost sorry that we had not suffred
shipwrack, at least-wise me-thought I observed such like apprehensions in the mindes of Horatio and Alphonso: But as for the Marquis, it is to be spoken for his glory, that never man
was so soon comforted as he, and I was not a little surprized, to hear him say laughing, a quarter of an hour after we were returned from conducting the persons, who were so deer unto
us, to the Princess Mariama's lodgings, that the Affricans Love could tell how to use his
bow better, then he of Europe; it being very true, said he, that he had never been so suddenly strucken to the heart, as he had lately been by the charms of a sister of the Princess
Mariama, who was called Lela Mahabit, onely with seeing her at a window.
For me, said the Marquis interrupting him, who had neither Sister nor Mistress to grieve
for, nor was afflicted but out of a sense of friendship, I am not to be blamed, if, to render
my self more like unto those with whom I convetsed, I suffered my self to be surprized with
the passion which possessed their Souls. If I be always interrupted in this manner, said Doria, it will be hard for me to relate this day that which you desire to know of me. Isabella,
finding that Doria had Reason, made all the company pass their word that they wonld not
speak any more until he had ended their History; so that every one keeping silence, and Isabella having renewed her attention, Doria prosecuted his discourse in this sort.
These new Slaves were no sooner come to the Princess Mariama's lodgings, but Abdalla,
who visited them very often, repaired thither, accompanyed with Aly. And whereas he
found her with them, and that therefore they would out of respect have withdrawn, he would
not permit it, telling them that the name of Slave, which he had imposed upon them, was
rather an artifice to retain them about the Princess his sister, then a design to keep them in servitude. This complement was seconded by another which Aly used to them, and with a sincere protestation made to them by Mariama for the treating of them as her sisters, rather then
as her Slaves. This second view yet more augmented the love, which the King of Marocco
and Aly already bore to Hipolita; and whereas Aly was cunning and dexerous, and had out
of a sense of ambition for a long eime before taken great care to observe all Abdalla's motions, he quickly perceived that the beauty of Hipolita had touched his heart, and that his
Master was his Rival. And whereas he knew very well that Love, no more then Royalty, endures not any companion, he resolved to conceal from the King the design which he had in
his head. It was not long, before his suspicions were fully cleared; for Abdalla being become
passionately in love, and fearing lest if he should talk too often with Hipolita, his sister, to
whom he carryed a great respect, would come to know his intentions, he opened his heart
wholly to Aly, discovered his passion unto him, conjured him to finde out the means to acquaint her with it, who had caused it. Aly, as we understood afterwards testified a great
deal of joy unto him, for that he being fallen in love, as he said, with one of those Slaves, he
had been so happy as not to prove his Rival. The King demanded of him then, whether it
were so that he loved any of them? and the other answered him with a false confidence, that
Leonida had touched his heart. That which obliged him to this lye, was his belief, that by
this mean the King would never be jealous of him, nor would fear his falling in love with Hipolita, being perswaded that his affection was engaged otherwhere; and indeed the matter
fell out as he imagined. The King gave him the conduct of his Love, as well as that of his
Estates; commanded him always to follow him whensoever he went to the Princess Mariama; and not to lose any occasion of speaking to Hipolita concerning him.
In the mean time, as if Fortune would give a particular persecution to each of these three





fair Slaves, a younger Brother of Abdalla's, named Abdelcadar, became desperately in love
with Sophronia. For the rest of us, except it were the Marquis, we had no new passion; and
mishap in this encounter, appeared not to us at first, but in the semblance of good fortune.
The King sent to visit us with presents, and many times made us come to his lodgings for
to entertain him. Aly resorted to us himself, and assured us of his protection: We had also the liberty to see and speak with our sisters, or to say better, our Mistresses; for in these occasions, love always prevailed over friendship.
In fine, the greatest of our unquietnesses was, that we could not foresee the end of our
present felicities, nor divine wherefore they treated us so favorably, and yet would not deliver
us. Howbeit we were not long without discovering it, for the King's and Aly's love still
augmenting, whereas gallantry seems to be natural to all the Moors, they were willing to restore Hipolita to her former joy, before they would speak to her of their passion. For notwithstanding all the caresses which these fair maids received from the Princess Mariama, and the
affection which they carryed to her, yet melancholy appeared still in all their discourses, and
in all their actions: So that to delight them, there were nothing but publique feasts, turneys,
balls, and rejoycings. But in all these encounters Aly so carryed the matter, as all the parties,
whereof he was the Head, were, both braver, and more magnificent, then that of others,
without the Kings ever suspecting any thing of his true intent, because his minde was prepossest with the opinion, that it was Leonida he was in love withall, and not Hipolita. And
surely he should have been very melancholique, that could not have taken pleasure in these assemblies, it being certain, that nothing is seen which is more agreeable even in Europe, especially for dancing. For whereas, since the desolation of Granado, many persons of quality
retired to Fez, Tunis, and Marocco, though the remembrance of their misfortunes ought
to have made them renounce all manner of delights, yet their desire to please Abdalla who
protected them, caused them to be present at all these feasts. And truly I do not marvel, if
the Spanyards in conquering their Kingdom, though they be conquerors severe enough, have
not forborn taking some of their gallantries, chiefly that dance, called Sarabanda: But it
must be acknowledged that they are but bad imitators of them, no more then we, who have
taken it from the Spanyards; it being most certain that they dance it in a manner wherein there
is so much art and grace, as we come nothing neer it. And whereas out of a particular favor
we were present at all these feasts, I remember one amongst the rest, wherein the Marquis
made an end of losing his liberty by a Sarabanda, which the Princess Lela Mahabit danced.
For whereas all the features of her face were excellent, her eyes sparkling and passionate, her
shape advantagious and comely, her carriage free and majestical, although the colour of her
skin was not very agreeable, yet her whole person together appeared infinitely pleasing in this
Assembly, where she danced a Sarabanda with a negligence so full of charms, with so graceful a disposition, and so gallant and amorous an ayr, as the Marquis was in a minde solemmnly
to renounce his ordinary humor, and become constant for this Princess.
And to testifie unto you, how great an impression she made in his heart, I only can tell you,
that in four days the Marquess, who was desirous to transform himself into the person beloved
as much as possibly he could, learned this dance so miraculously, that having demanded permission of Aly to intermingle himself amongst a Troop of Granadins, who were to dance disguised in one of these Assemblies, he charmed all the company in such sort, as the Princess Lela
Mahabid, who was an equitable Judg of such like things, would needs know who he was:
But she was much amazed, when as she perceived that he was not a Granadin, but one of the
favorite Slaves, for so we were called; Sophronia, Leonida, and Hipolita were no less then
she, to see that they had admired him without knowing him, never dreaming it should be he,
though they discerned him not amongst us. In the mean time this adventure was not displeasing to her, for after that, there past not an Assembly (and there was one almost every
day) wherein he spake not to her, wherein he danced not before her, and wherein with his
adress, and accustomed confidence, he gave her not some mark of his affection, yet without
passing those bounds of respect which he owed to her. But whereas all these Feasts were
made upon design, the King solicited Aly to speak to Hipolita of his love, which he did soon
after, but in such a manner, as seemed at first sight infinitely to oblige my sister: For after a
reasonable long discourse he besought her to consider what he owed to the King his Master,
to the end that afterwards she might receive that which he was going to say to her, as a pure




effect of his obedience to Abdalla, and not as a matter he approved of. He told her then, that
he had such a particular esteem of her, as he would rather expose himself to the hazard of losing his life and his fortune, then to that of displeasing her.
In fine, after a preparation long enough, and when as he believed that he had given sufficient good impressions of his vertue to Hipolita, he told her that her beauty had touched the
heart of Abdalla, and that he had commanded him to acquaint her with his love; but, said
he unto her with a seeming sincerity, whereas you can never be but his Slave, Heaven shield
me from contributing ought to so bad a design; contrarily, I will do my uttermost to hinder
such a misfortune; and that you may furnish me with means to serve you, make known to
the King, added he, if he happens to speak with you, that I have acquitted my self of the
commission which he gave me; in the mean time assure your self that there is not any thing
which I will not undertake for your service.
Hipolita was strangely surprized with this discourse, for coming to consider all Abdalla's
liberalities, and the manner wherein he had lived with her for a good while before, she made
no question but that Aly's discourse was true. Nevertheless, whereas she is naturally suspicious and mistrustful, she doubted of Aly's sincerity in some things; howbeit she answered
civilly enough to the offers he had made her; but for so much as regarded the Kings love, she
spake to him with so much firmness, as he seemed to be very blank at it. It was not because
he desired she should accept of Abdalla's love, but seeing in what manner she refused the
Kings affection, he feared lest when he should come to discover his own, he should be worse
intreated. And whereas Hipolita perceived his unquietness; for what reason, said she unto
him, are you afflicted to see me resolved to oppose my self with all my power against an affection which you seem not to approve of? It is, answered Aly, with as much cunning as malice,
because knowing by your discourse, how much that which I have used to you hath troubled
your mind, I cannot chuse but grieve for that the King hath pick'd out to persecute you, the
only man in the world that honors you most: But believe, fair Hipolita, continued he, that
this unjust love touches me as much as you, and that there is not any thing which I will not
do to deliver you from it. After this Aly quitted her, and left her in such an unquietness, as
the like was scarcely ever heard of. Not only the Kings affection afflicted her; not only the
sadness, which she had observed in Aly's face, troubled her; not only the incertainty wherein
she was, whether she should discover Abdalla's love to the Princess Mariama, disquieted her;
but an odd and altogether extraordinary jealousie put her mind upon the rack. She did not
complain of Horatio's looking on any other person; she did not accuse him of infidelity, but
she was jealous because he was not jealous: For when as Aly talked to her, she had marked
how Horatio's eyes were still fixed on her, and albeit he had seen that man entertain her a long
time, yet had he not appeared the more unquiet for it. And as it is the custom of passionate
persons to aggravate things, according to the apprehensions which they have, so Hipolita had
the injustice to believe, that her Lover must needs perceive the Kings love, which she her self
had not known. If he loved me ardently, said she (for she declared it unto us afterwards) the
fear of losing me would have made him fear all things; he would have taken notice of the
Kings civilities; his liberalities would have been suspected unro him; I should have seen some
unquietness in his eyes, when as Aly talked so earnestly to me: in fine, concluded she in her
heart, either he loves me not, or he loves me but a little; and if he loves me but a little, he
loves me not at all, since love never endures any mediocrity.
Whil'st she reasoned in this manner, Aly, who desired to perswade the King that he was
in love with Leonida took great care that notice might be taken how she was pleasing to
him. And whereas Alphonso hath not by nature so quiet a mind as Horatio, he seemed to us
almost as much troubled as Hopolita, though it were in a different manner. He was not jealous
of Leonida, but he was vext to think that Aly was amorous of her. He did not fear that
she would be unfaithsul to him, but he was angry that another was passionate for her; it
being his humor, as I conceive that the person whom he loves should never see any but him,
nor should be seen of any but him. As for me, that am of a contrary mind; that would have
all the Earth raise up altars to my Mistress; that cannot be jealous no more then Horatio;
that places all my felicity in having Rivals, to the end I may possess the glory of being better intreated then they, and may no longer doubt, but that I am loved as well out of choyce, as
out of inclination; I saw Abdelcader, as long as this Assembly lasted, employ all his address





to please the fair Sophronia, without being troubled at it; but contrarily I beheld with pleasure the admiration which her beauty put him into, as well as all the rest of the company, and it seemed unto me, that in commending her, they commended my judgment, and augmented my glory.Behold, Madam, in what sort this Assembly ended; The King retired with a great deal
of impatience to know what answer Hipolita had given to Aly; this false Confident very
sorry for having encountred with so much firmness in my sisters mind; Sophronia sufficiently displeased with Abdelcader's complacency; Leonida in a humor of laughing at the affection which Aly seemed to bear her; Alphonso netled with having a Rival, though he would not
acknowledg it to us; the Marquess exceedingly contented with having a Mistress; Lela
Mahabid well satisfied with the Marquess his gallantry; Horatio with a mind indifferent
enough for all that had past; and I sufficiently contented in our misfortune, and even
with a secret sense of joy, to see that the beauty of Sophronia was so perfect, as she made her
self be adored of all Nations.
In the mean time, the PrincessMariama, who hath a quick and piercing wit, perceived
all the divers interests of this Assembly: and though she could not discover them perfectly,
yet knew she that the King was in some passion; that Aly was not exempted from it; that
Abdelcader her brother did not hate Sophronia; and that Lela Mahabid was too civil towards a Slave. This wise Princess resolved for all that, not to make any shew of all these things,
till she was more certain of them; but it was not long before she was cleared therein. For
my sister being retired with her companions, and having acquainted them with Aly's discourse, they resolved to advertise the Princess Mariama of it, and absolutely to confide in
her vertue. Sophronia was notwithstanding of the opinion, to ask counsel of us first; so that
the next morning, according to the permission they had for it, they sent for us. And when
as Sophronia had propounded the matter unto us, and that I began already to give my advice.
Let Horatio speak first, said Hipolita unto me, with precipitation enough; for if to give good
counsel one hath need of a quiet mind, it may well be said that he is in such an estate as he
ought to be, to counsel us as we should be. Were it true, replyed Horatio mightily surprized, that I had a quiet mind, the manner wherewithall you have spoken is enough to trouble
it in such sort, as to render me incapable of counselling others. Since your rest is so dear unto you, answered she, as you even seek a pretext not to assist afflicted persons with your advice, leave us at leastwise to think of what we have to do. Horatio seeing her so bitter,
would not answer her out of prudence and respect, for fear left her fantastical humor should
appear too visibly unto us. As for me, who comprehended nothing in this discourse, I said
unto my sister half laughing, that I believed the King of Marocco's love had possessed her
with pride, rather then with melancholy, if she continued speaking in that fashion. But in
the end we resolved, that these four Slaves should absolutely confide in the Princess Mariama, for fear lest if they should not advereise her of the truth of the matter, she might have
cause to think, should she discover it some other way, that it was not displeasing to them,
since they made a mystery of it. We conceived that from her alone they were to hope for
their protection, and their liberty, and consequently that it was requisite they should make
all their vertue known to this Princess; who out of sympathy and conformity, would without
doubt be always carried to serve them.
After we had a long time reasoned of all these things; after that Sophronia had acquainted
us with her new Conquest, and Leonida with that which she thought she had made; after, I
say, we had spoken of all this in general, Horatio, who desired to know what he was accused of, separated Hipolita dextrously from us, and having led her to a window, where she
leaned, he conjured her to tell him what had obliged her to speak with so much bitterness
unto him, (at leastwise he related it so unto us,) I know full well, said he unto her, that I
am not faulty; but I do not know of what crime I am accused: Be so good unto me then as
to acquaint me with it, that I may justifie my self; but if you will have me speak like an offendor, although I be none, let me know what fault I have committed, to the end I may repent me of it, and amend it. You may peradventure do the former, answered she, but it is
impossible for you to do the other. I have a long time known, that there would be some
injustice in accusing you of an insensibility, which you cannot chuse but have; howbeit I
cannot also chuse but complain of my hard fortune, in having a mind so sensible for a man,




that is so little himself. The more you complain, said Horatio unto her, the less do I comprehend of what fault I am accused; for to say that the beautiful Hipolita does not touch my heart
sensibly, and that she alone makes not up my felicicy, is a thing without all likelyhood. You have
reason, said she unto him with a bitter smile, Hipolita can do something upon your felicity, but
she can do nothing upon your misfortune: She can sometimes with a favorable look, or with her
discourses, give you happy moments, but she can never with her coldness, or the love that she
shews to others, beget any sadness in you: verily, continued she, you are the happiest Lover
that ever was; nothing displeases you, nothing molests you; neither fear nor jealoulie trouble
you; you hope without unquietness; you desire without impatience, and of all the thoughts
which Love inspires, you know none without doubt, but those that lead to joy. You interpret all things, as you say, to the advancage of the person beloved; but to speak more reasonably, it is to the disadvantage of your love: For whosoever loves truly, can never hold himself so assured of the person whom he loves, but that fear will be stronger in him then hope;
now for your part, you hope all things, and fear nothing. It is certain, said Horatio unto
her, that you oftentimes reduce me to an estate of fearing nothing, and of having recourse
unto hope to comfort me. For in fine, whereas the greatest of misfortunes is to see you in
choller, I behold my self so many times exposed thereunto, that I have nothing else to fear.
No, no, said Hipolita unto him, you are yet more ingenuous then so; my very choller gives
you joy; you regard it as a mark of my affection; and thus making profit of all things, you
are never unhappy. Might it please Heaven, said he unto her, that you spake true! Confess to me, added she interrupting him, that is I had said nothing to you of the long conversation which I had yesterday with Aly, whether you would have suspected any thing of it.
Any other but you would have been troubled at it, continued she, and whereas love renders the
mind clear-sighted, you would have imagined something of the truth. But as for you, doubtless
you believed that he entertained me with the Government of the King of Marocco's State;
that policy was the object of our conversation, whil'st you could in the mean time look
without unquietness upon the Princess Lela Mahabid, because she danced with a good grace.
Are these, rigorous Hipolita, said Horatio unto her, all the crimes which I have committed?
Have I done nothing but see you talking with Aly, without divining what he said unto you,
and without afflicting my self at it? No, answered she, you have done nothing else; but
this indifferency, or to say better, this insensibility, and this stupid love so vexes me, as in
the state whereunto it hath reduced my mind for a long time together, I had rather see you
desperately in love with another, then to see you so quiet: for either the spight of your change
would set me at rest; or if I had not resolution enough for that, I should say in flattering my self,
he will come out of his error, he will repent him of his inconstancy, and since he can tell how to
love, he may be capable of returning and repenting, and of having as much affection for me, as
he hath for another. But in the case wherin I see you at this present, you wil be always insensible
and always happy, and I always unfortunate. That cannot be, answered Horatio, my destiny and
yours are not separated so easily. But, amiable Hipolita, why wil you not have me live innocently,
why will you have me render my self faulty, in suspecting you amiss? Why will you have me
make my self unhappy voluntarily, and abandoning Reason, form monsters to my self to combat
withall? and why will you not on the contrary have me confide in your vertue, rely on your fidelity, and without rendring me infortunate, suffer me to be in some rest? Would you know,
said Hipolita unto him, why I will not have it so, it is because I do not seek in you for a Wise-man, and a Philosopher, but for a Lover. Love hath a Reason, which is wholly particular
unto it; reasonable persons, who are touched with this passion, never abandon Vertue for it, but withall they do not follow that severe Reason, which will have one receive with an
equal temper, both good and bad fortune. Love ought to be stronger then Reason; it doth
not destroy it, but it troubles it. I blush, Horatio, at that which I say, and at the grief I
am in, for that fi I am to know these things, it hath not been rather by your actions, then
by mine own experience, that I have understood them. You ought to have taught me, that
love is suspicious, impatient, unquiet, and curious; that it wishes for that which it hath not;
that it feareth to lose that which it possesseth; you ought to have learnt me, that none of the
actions of the person beloved can be indifferent; that she alone ought to be more considerable,
then all the world besides; and that the only desire to please her, and the fear to offend her
should make a Lover act. By this reason, answered Horatio, I should not dare to accuse you,




no not when you had given me occasion to complain, being perswaded that all those words
of cruel, unjust, and inexorable, ought not to be said to a worthy person, but in songs, and
if it were possible for me to be angry with you, respect should force me to conceal it. You are in an error, replyed she, choller and jealousie are the true marks of love, and provided that one does not continue in them, one never offends the person whom one loves; but you speak so, because you know not how to love. Nay but I speak in his sort, answered Horatio, because I know how to love well, and that I respect you. Respect, replyed Hipolita, can be
but a mark of esteem, and not a mark of love: And tell me, I pray you, by what way pretend you to testifie yours unto me. In protesting to you, answered Horatio, that you are
all my felicity; in absolutely remitting unto you the conduct of my fortune; and in assuring
you that I would lose my life with joy for your service. One may do all these things out of
esteem, and out of generosity, replyed she, but one can never be jealous without love; all
other passions may receive interpretations, but this same leaves no room to doubt of the
cause of it; and jealousie is the only assured mark of this passion. If I could cease from
esteeming of you, replyed Horatio, I should be jealous, I should be unquiet. Say, answered
she lilting up her voyce, and quitting him, that if you could cease from being insensible, you
should be a Lover. She spake this so loud, as Sophronia, Leonida, the Marquess, Alphonso,
and I, heard her, and we judged that there was some little disorder between them, especially
when I saw a Carnation colour on my sisters cheeks, which used not to be there, and a certain
constrained and artificial smile, which anger always produceth in her face. Sophronia willing to play the good sister in this occasion would needs know their dispute; and when as Horatio had recounted it unto her, notwithstanding Hipolita's resistance to the contrary, we
made their peace, after they had on either part said all that their wit and passion could furnish
them with.
Thereupon we retired to our lodging, and these three fair Slaves to the Princess Mariama's; where after the first civilities they besought her to give them a particular audience.
Mariama, having granted them their demand, commanded her women to leave her alone;
which was no sooner done, but the fair Sophronia, who had in charge to speak in the name
of all the three, requested her to remember the promise she had made to protect them; and
then she related unto her the discourse which Aly had used to Hipolita and Leonida: but
not able to obtain so much confidence from her modesty, as to tell her withall, that Abdelcader had testified a great deal of affection to her, my sister acquainted the Princess with the
conquest that Sophronia had made. Mariama being very much satisfied with their freedom
and their vertue, redoubled the care and good-will which she had for them; and to shew
that she put as much confidence in their discretion, as they done in hers: and to let them see
also, how much interest she had to oppose all the bad designs of Aly, she recounted all his
adventures unto them, namely, all that I imparted to you at the beginning of this History;
And thereupon assured them, that whatsoever came from a spirit so artificial as Aly, was
ever to be suspected. She told them moreover, that whereas he did always work with cuning, he was always to be delt with in the same manner: that to that effect, great care was to
be taken to keep him from discovering, that they had acquainted her either with the Kings
love, or his; that it was likewise requisite, that Hipolita should seem to place some confidence in that false generosity, which he had feigned to have in speaking to her of the Kings
love. For, said Mariama unto them, I know Aly, he would never have delt in that sort
with Hipolita, had not some passion, more powerful then his malice, carryed him thereunto.
Hitherto he hath never contraried the King in any thing; hitherto he hath affected a blind obedience to all his will, and an exterior fidelity, which hath not permitted me as yet to revenge
the mischiefs he hath done me. Nevertheless I see something in his heart, since the time that I
have obtained of my self to speak with him oftner then I used to do, which puts me in hope
that I shall finde the means for it. In fine, believe it, said she to Hipolita, that Aly hath not
declared the Kings love unto you, and promised to protect you against him, without some secret reason that induces him thereunto, and without some particular interest. But for discovery, we must dissemble as well as he, and not speak so severely of the love which he saith
the King bears you, that we may see what he will be at. Leonida, for her part, must endevor to discover his designs; and Sophronia, carrying her self according to her humor and her
vertue, will no doubt punish Abdelcader rigorously enough, for suffering himself to be





surprized by the splendor of her beauty; howbeit I will take care that he shall no longer importune her. In the mean time, continued she, fear no violence, unless it be from Aly; for
touching the King, I know that he hath some respect to my person, and doth carefully endevor to make me forget the cruelties which Aly hath done, under the pretext of assuring the
Crown unto him. And grant also that the wickedness of this man should prove courageous
to the King, be assured that I will never abandon you, and will hazard all things to keep you
from having any violence offered unto you.
These fair Slaves gave her thanks for a discourse that was so advantageous unto them; commended her vertue and her generosity; lamented the misfortunes that had arrived unto her;
detested the cruelty of Aly: and making an exchange of their own sorrows, it might have
been said that Mariama felt their miseries more then her own; and that these fair Slaves,
who were no less generous, nor less sensible then she, had as much sense of her past fortunes,
as of their present mishaps.
After that so sad a conversation had lasted some time, and that out of the compassion,
which they had one of another, they had in some sort mitigated their griefs, the Princess
Mariama told them smiling, how it would not be just, that whil'st she was thinking of
their protection, one of their Troop should undertake to revenge Hipolita of the Kings love,
with another love; desiring them to advereise the Slave, which danced with so good a grace,
that the Princess Lela Mahabid was her sister; because she believed, that either he knew not
so much, or that he had forgotten it. Sophronia perceiving by Mariama's speech, that she
meant the Marquis; and that she also had taken notice of his inclination to the Princess Lela
Mahabid, thought it was best to acquaint her with his humor, to the end she might not be
offended if he continued the gallantry he had begun. Sophronia then drew the Marquis his
picture so agreeably, and so advantageously for him, as the Princess told her that she was
very glad of the conquest her sister had made, and that she might in some sort share with her
therein, it was fit she should more particularly know so extraordinary a man: and so, the
Princess Mariama, and Sophronia, became his Confidents, without having any purpose to be
so, and procured him the pleasure to see the Princess Lela Mahabid almost every day at the
Princess Mariama's lodging. The first time he was there, I remember that we brought him
thither with some kinde of repugnancy; for he had understood from Sophronia her self, in
what manner she had spoken of him. It is not, said he unto us, because I am angry that
Sophronia hath spoken the truth; but it is because I do not feel my self in a disposition to
make it appear by experience, that I am as inconstant as she hath described me: it being
very certain, that I am perswaded I cannot love any think here but the Princess Lela
Mahabid.
With this little vexation the Marquis was brought to Mariama's lodging, where all those
fair Slaves were present, as well as the Princess Lela Mahabid, who received him with a
great deal of civility. At first Mariama commended his address, and rememb'ring how admirably he had danced in the last Assemblies, she marvelled how he could in so short a space
surmount all the Moors in gallantry and a good grace. The Moors, said he unto her,
Madam, have not had so good a Master as I. And when as Mariama had demanded of him,
who he was? he answered her, that Love had taught him all that he knew; it being
most sure, as he said, that without him he had been the ignorantest of all men. For, continued he, the sole desire to please the person whom I loved hath taught me all that I know.
If that be so, answered Mariama, and that which hath been told me of you be true, you
should be one of the most universally knowing men in the world, since by that reason, the
diversity of persons whom you have loved, should have taught you a wonderful diversity of things.
Truly, Madam, you have Reason, replyed he, but that which makes me know them but superficially, is, because I have stayd so little a while in one school, as I have had no more leasure then to learn to speak a little of things, without any perfect knowledg of them. The first person, of whom I was enamored, loved valor, and that was the cause why I took care not to appear cowardly. She that touched my heart next loved musique, and instantly I learned to sing, to play on the Lute and the Gittern. Another, placing her greatest delight in reading of verses, inspired me with the desire to making some. One of my Mistresses, loving Romanzes above any thing else, possessed me with the desire to furnish the subject of one with mine own ad-




ventures. I learned also to be fit for all compliance; I became a Painter, an Astrologer, and
a Mathematician: Love made me learn languages; by him I grew many times eloquent,
liberal, discreet, and pleasing; in fine, I do not know a vertue, for which I am not indebted
to this noble passion.
I profess, said the Princess Mariama, that this is the finest way of commending ones self
that ever was heard of. But, said she to the Marquis, how comes it to pass, that in so little
time as you have been here, you have so perfectly attained to that, which the Granadins, who
are our masters in gallantry, are so long a learning? for, as you say your self, there are things
which you understand but superficially, because your love to those that affected them was
not long enough. It is, Madam, answered he, because I have at this present a greater desire
to please, then ever I had in all my life.
She that hath given you this desire, said the Princess Lela Mahabid unto him, should have
a great deal of merit, or should be very much obliged to you. She hath so many excellent
qualities, replyed the Marquis, as I may say, that in this illustrious person I love all those
whom I have loved in all my life-time: it being most certain, that I have never admired any
thing in all the others, whom I have served, which I do not finde yet more eminently in her
whom now I adore. She is wonderfully fair; she hath a spirit as full of brightness, as her
eyes are of light; and there is seen in her whole person, a charm so powerful and so extraordinary, that it is impossible to conserve so much reason, as to remember that one ought not
to have any other then veneration for her; one must of necessity give place to love; she cannot inspire other thoughts; and not working like ordinary beauties, which makes one pass
from admiration to esteem, and from esteem to love, she renders her self at the first instant
absolute Mistress of all their souls that behold her. One cannot have indifferent thoughts for
her; one must, either not see her, or adore her: and from the very first moment that I beheld
her, I had all at once both admiration, esteem, and love. I was no longer mine own, I was
absolutely hers; and though I know full well that I am unworthy of this honor, yet can I
not imagine that I am faulty. It seems to me also (at least-wise I flatter my self with this opinion) that by a particular priviledg, and to render her conquests the more illustrious, she purifies all the hearts which she enflames; that she darts forth a beam of that divinity which I
adore in her, and therewith illuminates them that come neer her; that in making her vertues
known, she communicates a part of them; and that one is no sooner her Slave, but he is
worthy to command others.
The Princess Lela Mahabid, not able to forbear from blushing at the Marquis his discourse, would at leastwise make a gallantry of it. I leave you to judg, said she unto him, how
much you would make your Mistresses modesty to suffer, if she were here, since I could not
chuse but change colour at this excessive praise, though I have no part in it. I fear, Madam,
replyed he, that in this occasion you take one vertue for another; and that this change, which
hath appeared in your face, be not rather an effect of your great heart, then of your modesty,
seeing it may be you take it not well, that a Slave should lose the respect which he ows you,
so far, as to dare to entertain you with his passion. You speak so agreeably hereof, said the
Princess Mariama interrupting him, that if my sister will be perswaded by me, she shall always be your Confident. I am not inconsiderate enough for that, answered the Marquis; and
the thoughts of respect and adoration which I have for her, will not permit me to commit
this fault.
Sophronia, seeing that hereupon there was a great silence amongst the company, which
might trouble the Marquis, said to him with a great deal of address, that she was glad to see a
passion in him, which made her hope that at last he might be constant; since finding in a person
whom he loved, all the beauties of the body, all the graces of the minde, and all the vertues
of the soul, it was impossible for him to meet with any thing that was amiable in another,
which was not in her. You have Reason, answered the Marquis, but not altogether to renounce my natural inclination, though I love none, or to say better, adore none, but this excellent person, yet have I found the means to mingle an inconstancy with the love I bear her,
whereof she cannot be jealous. I have much ado to conceive this new mystery, added my
sister; and I do not think, that she, who is the cause of your love, will reign in a divided
heart. My heart is wholly hers, replyed the Marquis, and to explain my thoughts unto you,
know, that the person, whom I adore, is so marvelous, as it would be a crime in me, hav-




ing but one heart and one affection, to offer to love all that is amiable in her at one and the
same time: so that to love her the more perfectly, and in some sort also to follow this inclination, which predominates over all mine, I give every day a new object to my passion. To
day I adore her eyes; to morrow I love the beauty of her shape, the next day I suffer my self
to be charmed with the graces of her minde; another time her goodly aspect ravishes me;
and by this means yielding my heart wholly to each of those excellent qualicies which she possesses, I shall love her as much as she deserves to be; and without being inconstant to her, I
shall yet be always so much, as never to be weary of my servitude. This new way of loving
so mightily surprized all the company, as albeit they had no great cause of joy, yet could
they not forbear laughing at it. I should never have done, if I should rehearse all the pleasing
passages, which the Marquis delivered in all the visits which he gave to these two Princesses; it
shall suffice then to tell you, that the Princess Lela Mahabid had all the esteem and all the
affection for him, which a Princess, gallant enough, and who for all that was vertuous, was
capable of.
In the mean time you are to know, that Aly had not failed in rendering an account to the
King of the commission which he had given him: but whereas he was a Lover and cunning,
he had disguised the truth of that which he had said to Hipolita, and of that which Hipolita
had answered him. For though my sister had testified sufficiently unto him, that Abdalla's
affection could never please her, yet he feared that if the King should undertake to speak to
her himself, she might at length be perswaded; so that to keep him from it, he told him, that
albeit Hipolita had not favorably received the declaration which he had made her of his love,
yet he had it not absolutely impossible to touch her heart; it having seemed unto him how
he had observed, that the greatest fear Hipolita had, was lest the Princess Mariama should
perceive this affection. Wherefore, my Lord, said he unto him, it must be by me that she
must be acquainted with all the thoughts which you have for her, until such time as by great
hopes we have chased away this fear from her heart. For there is no doubt, added he, considering the estate wherein I saw her minde, if you enterprize to speak to her your self, but
you will be very ill satisfied of her, for the reason I have told you.
Abdalla, though very amorous, and consequently very impatient and very suspicious, yet
made do question of Aly's discourse; and remitting himself absolutely to his conduct, he
conjured him to remember, that on the conquest of Hipolita all his felicity depended. In the
mean while, albeit he had promised Aly to give my sister the least testimony of his affection
that he could, yet was it impossible for him to conceal his passion: for he no sooner entred
into Mariama's lodging, but he asked for Hipolita; he no sooner saw her, but a new joy appeared in his face; Hipolita's looks guided his whether he would or no; he followed her
with his eyes wheresoever she went; and seldom did he make a visit without praising some
beauty, or some vertue, which he said he had not yet marked in her. These praises did not
please Aly at the beginning, nevertheless seeing he could not hinder them, whereas soveraign prudence, or to say better, extream cunning, consists in making all things serve for the
design that one hath, he labored to draw some advantage from the love, which the King seemed to bear to Hipolita. But before I acquaint you with it, I am to tell you, that after many conversations which he had with her, wherein he always shewed, how much he esteemed of her
vertue and approved of the refusals she had made of the Kings love; one day when as he
found her the most civilly disposed for him (as he thought) and the most incensed against the
King, he undertook to discover unto her the passion he was in for her. And whereas she was exceedingly surprized with such a kinde of discourse, and hath naturally an imperious spirit; Is it possible, said she unto him, that you can speak with me in this sort, and conserve any memory and judgment? Do you beleive, added she, that a person, which refuses the affection of your King, can receive yours? Do you not remember, that you have an hundred himes commended the resolution which I have taken to dye, rather then to satisfie him? shall I be more vertuous, in harkening favorably to your love, then to Abdalla's? What part do you play, said she unto him, without giving him time to interrupt her? You betray your Master in speaking to me of your love; and if you will pass for my Lover, you do me an injury in charging your self with moving the Kings to me: and howsoever it be, I ought to hate and despite you more then him.After Hipolita had testified all her resentment and her anger, Aly, nothing daunted, nor




displeased, besought her not to condemn him without hearing. For, fair Hipolita, said he
unto her, it may be you will finde some difference between the love that Abdalla bears you,
and that which I bear you: He onely loves the beauty of Hipolita, and I adore the vertue of
Hipolita. He is not your servant, but to make you his Slave; and I do not love you, but to
marry you. His flame is unjust, and mine is lawful; the end of his love is his own satisfaction,
on, and that of mine is your glory, and your conservation. For in fine, continued he, if it be true that you love honor, you will have some indulgence for the affection which I carry to
you; seeing there rests no other mean to warrant you from the violences of Abdalla's love,
but that of receiving the same which I offer you. I acknowledg, said he further to her, that
I am an ill subject, but it is not but to be a faithful Lover, and because I will not expose you
to the greatest miseries, which a vertuous person can suffer. For, if you will, said he unto
her, all the Kings love, all his force, and all his power, shall not keep me, from protecting
and marrying you.
Aly having made an end of speaking, left Hipolita, for that he would not have her, said
he, answer him without advisement, in a matter where on all his happiness or unhappiness
depended. From thence he went to the Princess Mariama, to whom in appearance he bore
a great deal of respect. And whereas for some time past, this Princess had given him more
commodity to speak to her then before, out of the design she had to discover his intentions
concerning him that was to succeed Abdalla, it was not difficult for him to talk with her in
private; so that after he had protested an inviolable fidelity to her, and had sworn to her,
that next to the glory and interests of Abdalla, nothing in the world was so dear to him as
hers; he told her, that knowing her exceeding vertue and prudence, he thought he was obliged to acquaint her, how the King was so desperately in love with Hipolita, as he feared
that his passion would carry him to lose the respect which he owed to her, in drawing him to
use some violence to this maid: That if in this occasion he might be permitted to give advertisements and counsel both together, he conceived that the best course could be taken, would
be to remove Hipolita out of the way, or to marry her; That, as her Slave, she might dispose
of her, without the Kings having any lawful pretext to contradict her, since he himself had
bestowed her on her.
The Princess received this discourse of Aly's, as if she were obliged to him for it; and
although she knew not as yet the interest which he had in this affair, because she had not seen
Hipolita; yet she believed that this generosity, which appeared in his speech, was not in his
heart: She thanked him notwithstanding for the advice he had given her; promised him to
observe the Kings and Hipolita's actions; and then told him, that she would resolve of nothing in this affair, without demanding his counsel about it; and that he on his part should
not fail to advertise her of all that he knew. Aly, to let the Princess see that he lyed not, desired her to call to minde all the testimonies of unquietness and affection, which the King
could not conceal in the visits he had rendred her for some time past. And when as she had
told him that she remembred them very well, he went very well satisfied of her. For
knowing the vertue and prudence of this Princess, he doubted not but that now understanding the love which the King bore to Hipolita, she would oppose it with all her power; and
so, if it happened that	Hipolita should tell her the proposition he had made to marry her, she
would not contradict it; because it would be a mean to keep the King from committing a
fault; and because she would believe also by this way to put him out of grace with Abdalla, which he feared not much, in regard that all the force of the Kingdom was in his hands;
that all the Governors of Places depended on him; and that it was impossible for Abdalla
to rid himself of him, but by taking away his life; which he stood in no doubt of, for he
could not imagine, that a Prince to whom he had conserved the Crown, could make him lose
his head. And after this manner he resolved to make a shew of confiding in the Princess Mariama; judging that nothing could arrive therein that would not be advantageous to him.
In the mean time Abdelcader had his designs both of love and ambition, as well as Aly;
and though he was no very excellent Prince, yet the desire of reigning is so natural in men,
as it found a place in his heart, and so much the more strongly, because he knew that according to equity the Crown of Marocco appertained to him after the death of his brother, though
Abdalla had a son; for that the Xeriff Mahomet had so ordained by his Testament. In this
thought, he had a long time already very much courted Aly, to the end he might gain him





as much as he could; out of the hope that if Abdalla came to dye, he would side with him,
or at leastwise remain a neuter between the son of Abdalla and him.
Nevertheless, whereas at that time Aly had other designs, he never said any thing to Abdelcader, which might make him hope for ought from him. But whereas he was dextrous,
and knew not certainly whether he should let Abdalla's son raign, or raign himself, he had
never disobliged him, but was contented to tell him still, upon the divers propositions which
he had made unto him, that for matters regarding the State, he was not the servant of the
person of Abdalla, but of the King of Marocco; That as for him, he was perswaded, how
it was neither reason, nor justice, that ordinarily made Kings, but Fortune only; And without considering whether she were blind or no in the distribution of Crowns, he was resolved
always to serve the State with fidelity, in the person of those whom she would place on the
Throne of Marocco. But in the terms wherein things then were, he nevertheless altered his
mind, albeit he had an hundred times promised Abdalla, if he should happen to dye before
him, to conserve the Crown for his son, to the prejudice of Abdelcader: And whereas Aly
undertook not this design, but for his particular interest, for in making a young King to raign,
he should in a manner be King himself; that interest coming to change, he also changed his
resolution. For after he had well examined both the Kings love and his own, he found that
what industry soever he could use, it would be impossible for him to marry Hipolita with
Abdalla's consent; who should no sooner be incensed against him, but the Princess Mariama, joyning her credit and address to the just occasion she had to wish him ill, would no
doubt constrain him to have recourse to extream remedies.
With such like thoughts it was that Aly had entertained himself a good while already, when
as Abdelcader, who believed he was in love with Leonida, and consequently hoped, that he
would excuse the passion he had for Sophronia, came unto him with an intent dextrously
to learn of him what designs he had for that maid, to the end he might rule his by
those of a man, who, as he believed, durst not condemn that in another, which he suffered
in himself.
All their conversation at first was but of indifferent things, and of the beauty of Mariama's
Slaves. And whereas Aly was not ignorant of Abdelcader's passion for Sophronia, he was
willing in this occasion to incense the mind of this Prince against Abdalla, and wholly to gain
him to himself, to the end that if he were to make a universal subversion in this State, Abdelcader might furnish him with a pretext specious enough, by giving the people to understand,
that Abdalla by a testament, which always remained in Aly's hands, intended his son should
raign to his prejudice: For howsoever, Abdelcader was Mahomet's son, as well as Abdalla;
and albeit he was no very able Prince, yet had he no vices, so that the people did not hate him.
Aly considered further, that if he should come to extream violence, and dispossess Abdalla,
that Abdelcader might raign, he should make a King, without ceasing to be one; it being certain, that he would have need of him for the Government of his State.
After this reasoning which Aly had within himself, and after an indifferent long discourse
which he used to Abdelcader, to prepare him for that he was going to say to him, he gave
him to understand, that Abdalla, very far from approving the love which he bore to a Slave,
would not consent to his marriage with the greatest Princess of the Earth; because both by
interest and or the better assuring of the Crown to his son, he would have the matter go in
that sort. I leave you to judg, what effect this discourse wrought in the Soul of a man, who
was at one instant deprived of the hope of ever possessing the object ofhis love, and of his ambition, which are two of the most violent of all passions.
Aly, perceiving by the trouble which appeared in Abdelcader's face, how much he was
moved; and judging by his silence that he confided not in him, seeing he concealed his resentment said unto him to confirm him, that he had always done what he could to oppose such
violent maxims; that he remembred he was the son of his ancient Master; and that he assured him he would never omit any occasion to serve him. But after many conversations on this subject, Aly seeing that the Kings love augmented dayly, and finding that his own always became stronger, propounded at length to Abdelcader the putting him in possession, both of his Mistress, and of the Crown of Marocco. So bold a proposition made Abdelcader doubt, that this was rather a discourse to discover his intentions, then to serve him. But Aly made him soon change his opinion; for having shewed him Abdalla's




testament, which he had in his keeping, whereby he left the Crown of Marocco to his son,
to the prejudice of Abdelcader, he no longer doubted but that he might absolutely confide in
him; so that after this they thought of nothing but of executing their designs. Aly had for
so long a time had the whole Government of this State, as there was not an Officer in all the
Kingdom, that was not obliged to him for the Charge which he exercised: He was very
powerful of himself; all the Kings Treasures were in his hands; all strong places depended on
him; the memory of the Xerise Mahomet raigned still amongst these people; and the violent
death of Hamet was the cause that Abdalla was not universally beloved: for the people believed that Aly had not put him to death but by his commandment, though it was not true.
Now to carry the matter with more certainty, Aly told Abdelcader, that the principal
point was to render themselves Masters of Marocco: for by the experience of the past Wars,
and by a fatality which seemed inevitable, all they who had seized on it had at the very same
instant subjected all the rest of the Kingdom; That to do it without danger he was to make
shew, at such time as Abdelcader should enterprize the executing of the business, of being
still faithful to the King, to the end he might give him bad counsel, and seize upon his and
Mariama's person, when time should serve for it, to put them in the same prison, where
Hamet, Mulay Zidan, and his children had lyen. But that it was first requisite to make it
be dextrously bruted amongst the people, that Abdalla would defraud him of the right he
had to the Crown, and for that effect would not suffer him to marry; That to render the
matter more plausible, he should in a publique audience go and demand permission to marry
a grand-child of the last King of Tunis, who was in the Court of Marocco; but said Abdelcader then to him, If she should be granted unto me, I should be extreamly perplext;
for indeed I do not desire the Crown of Marocco, but to share it with the Slave Sophronia.
Fear not that, said he unto him, for I shall be of the Councel, and I will oblige Abdalla so
severely to refuse her to you, as you shall then have a pretext specious enough to make use of
the Soldiers, which I shall give you to begin the revolt. And to let the people see Abdalla's
bad faith, and to oblige him not to doubt of me, until such time as I am sure of him, you
must go to my Palace to offer some violence there, as it were charging me with the outrage
you have received: And after you have made as though you had plunder'd it, you shall shew
the people Abdalla's testament, which I will give you before-hand. In the mean time be
assured that I will take so good an order for all things, as you shall meet but with few enemies to fight with; and that in a little time I will deliver you the key of the prison, wherein
I shall have shut up Abdalla, his son, and Mariama; and after this you shall have the Crown
and Sophronia, whom you may marry if you think good; or according to our Laws treat as
a Slave, since she shall be yours: And for me, said he unto him, Hipolita is the only recompence which I demand of you. You mistake the name, said Abdelcader to him, and you
would no doubt speak of Leonida. No, no, replyed Aly; and then he declared unto him the
truth of the matter, and so they parted, after they had well examined their enterprize again,
and fully resolved not to let a day pass, without laboring to advance the execution thereof as
much as they could.
In the mean space Abdalla lived still in some hope, that he should be able to touch the heart
of Hipolita, especially since the Conspiracy of Abdelcader; for the subtle Aly since that, to
busie his mind the more pleasingly, had assured him, that provided he would continue living
with her, as he had done certain days before, he despaired not to obtain of her more then he
had thought he should. The Princess Mariama on her part had imparted to Hipolita, and
her companions, the conversation which she had had with Aly; and Hipolita had also acquainced Mariama with the declaration of love which he had made unto her, which possessed
the Princess with a great deal of unquietness. I well foresaw, said she unto them, that Aly
was not dis-interessed in this affair; but when as she sought for means to get out of this perplexity, she could not imagine them. She knew that the King was so strongly preoccupated
with the opinion of Aly's fideliey, that unless he learnt his crime from his own mouth, he
would never believe it. She was indeed generous enough to venture any thing for the saving
of these three maids, who craved protection of her with tears; but she feared too, lest if she should enterprize it, and it should come to be discovered, she might expose them to mischiefs,
which would be past remedy. She resolved then first to observe Aly with care; to talk with





him oftner then she had used to do; and if she found any likelyhood of being able to hurt
him, to hazard all things for the executing of that secret hatred upon him which she had so
long a time concealed in her heart. And whereas she had much address, she courted Abdalla
more then she was accustomed to do, that she might still gain further power over his mind for
the destroying of that which Aly had gotten there. As for us, we lived in extream discontent; for being advertised of all the Princess Mariama's and her fair Slaves unquietness, and
foreseeing no end to so many miseries, we led an idle and melancholick life, which was insupportable to us all, except the Marquiss, who without regarding our misfortunes, esteemed
himself the happiest man in the world, for being favorably looked upon by the Princess Lela
Mahabid.
But not to prolong my discourse with matters which are not necessary for you to know,
I shall tell you, that in four or five conversations the Princesses address was so great, that she
knew with as much certainty as strong conjectures could give of it, that Aly had ill intentions
for the Kings children. And without being able to divine that they were in some sort to the
advantage of Abdelcader, she knew that if the King came to dye, he would not conserve the
Crown for his son. That which made Mariama more easily discover Aly's designs was, that
seeing the civility which she had shewed to him some days before, and the vertue of this Princess being more dreaded of him then all Abdalla's authority, he had used certain obscure discourses unto her, to make her apprehend, that if she would embrace his friendsoip, he would
cause the Crown of Marocco to fall upon the head of whomsoever she would. For whereas
she was the widow of Mulay Zidan, to whom of right the Kingdom appertained, if they
had let him live, he thought that it may be she was capable of the desire to remount into the
Throne of her Fathers. But that being no intention of hers, she seemed not to understand any
of Aly's speeches in that manner, though indeed she marked them very exactly. After she
had throughly run over again in her mind, even to the least circumstances, whatsoever might
either increase or diminish her suspicions, she resolved to advertise the King thereof. But to
prepare his mind for the entertaining of some distrust of Aly's fidelity, she willed Hipolita to
make Abdalla perceive, as often as she saw him, that she took great care to decline his encounter, to the end she might be the more credited, when she should assure him that Aly had
offered to marry her, for the securing of her from his violences. The Princess Mariama,
who did nothing inconsiderately, resolved for all that to carry some time yet for the discovering of her suspicions.
In the mean season Aly took order for all things necessary to his enterprize, and according
to the plot which he and Abdelcader had layd, one morning when as the King of Marocco
gave audience to all them which had any thing to request of him, Abdelcader, followed by
certain of his Partisans, went and besought the King to grant him the permission to marry
the grand-child of the last King of Tunis, and to give him a portion answerable to a person of
his condition; He told him that he was not ignorant how Princes, which might pretend to
the Crown, were not their own, but the States, and for that reason he would not dispose
of himself without his leave: He added further, that the choyce which he had made could
not be blamed, since it was a person of birth equal to his; and a person whom by reason of
State he was to marry, or else they should resolve never to marry him: it being unlikely that
they would bestow her on a forraign Prince, which make make use of the right she had to the Kingdom of Tunis, for the troubling of that of Marocco.
Abdelcader by Aly's counsel made this proposition, rather as imposing a Law, then craving to consent; and whereas he feared nothing so much as the obtaining of that, which he seemed to desire to earnestly, when he found that Abdalla made no shew in his countenance of being any whit troubled with this proposition, he, notwithstanding his confidence in Aly's promise to him to hinder it, added so many things more to those he had already delivered, as Abdalla, after he had answered him, that the affair, whereof he spake, was of two great importance to be resolved on precipitously, commanded him to hold his peace, and to withdraw. Hereupon Abdalla, who in his heart did not disapprove of the matter, demanded counsel of Aly in private concerning it, who after he had protested, that the sole good of his State made him speak, represented unto him, that in the design which he had to preseve the Crown for his son, it imported much that Abdelcader should not be married; and less yet to the Princess of Tunis, then to any other; because in this sort it was to give him right a second time




to his Estates, and to furnish him with a pretext to make War as often as he met with an occasion for it; That to take from him the boldness thence-forward to offer such like propositions, he was to tell him absolutely, that this marriage did not please him, even without colouring the matter with any apparant reasons, as he might do; because, said he, Abdelcader's
boldness could not be sufficiently punished.
Abdalla following Aly's opinion in all things, contradicted him not in this, where he
thought his interest alone was regarded. He sent Abdelcader word then, that he forbad him
to think of marrying himself, either to the Princess of Tunis, or to any other; that he should
leave to him the care of chusing a wife for him; and that if he did otherwise, he should then
be declared guilty of High Treason. Abdelcader no sooner received this answer, but every
one in Marocco knew it, and every one murmured at it. The Princess Mariama could not
comprehend this business; for she knew that Abdelcader had testified a great deal of love to
Sophronia in divers occasions; and knew also that he had never regarded the Princess of Tunis
but with indifferency; and that if there had not been some hidden thing in his design, she
should have been the first to whom he would have spoken of it: but howsoever she reasoned
thereupon, she could not discover the truth. And whereas Hipolita had for some time together lived with the King, as she had ordained her, she observed that Abdalla perceived this
change; so that seeing the matter in this estate, she went one morning to his lodging, where
she craved the favor of him to talk wieh him in private, and the King having granted it to her,
she besought him to promise her, that if he did not give credit to what she was going to tell
him, he at leastwise would never speak of it again; being fully resolved not to acquaint him
with that she had to communicate unto him, unless he would engage his word unto her
to do so.
The King, being touched with an extraordinary curiosity, and yet fearing that Mariama
would speak to him of his love to Hipolita, stood a while without answering her; but at
length having promised her as much as she had desired of him, she began to prepare his mind
with a very particular address. I know, said she unto him, that for this which I am going
to tell you I ought to be suspected of you, either of malice, or of preoccupation: I know also,
that Aly being so mightily established in your affection, I shall expose my self to the hazard
of displeasing you, in telling you that I suspect he is not so faithful unto you, as his birth and
obligations to you oughe to make him: I know too, that in what manner soever you hear
the business, it will be still offensive unto you; for if you beleeve there is any malice in my
discourse, you will no doubt be sorry to find a stain in the Soul of a person that is so dear unto
you; and if on the contrary you find that I am not to blame, the displeasure of having been
betrayed by a man whom you have so much obliged will disquiet you; and whether it be out
of a sense of glory, or of tenderness, you will be grieved: Judg then, my Lord, if the matter
which I am to tell you be not important, since bearing you all the respect and all the affection
that I ought to have for a Prince, who is both my King and my brother, I expose my self notwithstanding to the hazard of troubling his rest, and getting his hatred, which is to me my supreamest misfortune.
Abdalla, amazed with Mariama's discourse, though he did not believe that she could
tell him any thing which was true against Aly's fidelity, yet left he not to assure her, that in
case the suspicions which she said she had against Aly proved not to be well grounded, he
would judg well of her intentions, and be always obliged unto her for her zeal and affection.
After this Mariama, to stir up some trouble in Abdalla's mind, and touch his heart where it
was most sensible, imparted unto him how Aly, forgetting the respect which he owed to
him, had been so daring as to profess love to the Slave Hipolita, who belonged to her; but
this prudent Prince did not let Abdalla know, that she understood any thing of his affection;
so that without standing longer on this discourse, yet this is not that, said she unto him,
which obliges me to speak to you of Aly, but the design which he hath, if you chance to dye
before him, to break the testament you have made him, by taking the Crown from off the
head of your son, to dispose of it according to his pleasure, or it may be to set it on
his own head.So strange an accusation did not at first encounter with any great belief in Abdalla's mind,
thinking that the secret hate, which this Princess bore Aly, made her judg of him in this
sort for that which regarded his State; but for that which concerned his love, though it was




more unlikely then the other, because he might conceive, that Mariama had taken his Confident for a Lover of Hipolita, yet he beleeved more of it then she would have had him.
And making shew of being more moved with Aly's wane of respect to her, then with his
own interest, he demanded of her very exactly, how she came to perceive Aly's passion;
and whether the conjectures she had of it were strong enough? because if it proved to be so,
he meant to punish him for his boldness. My Lord, said this Princess unto him, you do me
too much favor, rather to think of me, then of the good of your State; but to imitate your
generosity, be pleased, without considering me, to let me regard nothing but your person
alone, and by some invention let me furnish you with means, either to convince or justifie
Aly. And then, without Abdalla's demanding it, she recounced all those things unto him
which had been cause of her suspicions: but at length the trouble of this Princes mind being
somewhat appeased, he beleeved that Aly might be his Rival, but beleeved not that he had
any design upon his Crown. Howbeit Mariama said so much unto him, that in the end
with her entreaties and reasons she obtained of him, that for fifteen days space he would do
whatsoever she would have him for the clearing of the business. This Prince had much ado
to resolve upon making any doubt of Aly's fidelity, so far forth as to seek out the means of
convincing him; but at last the consideration of Mariama, and a little touch of jealousie carried him unto it: yet was it upon condition, that if Aly were found innocent, she should
from thence-forward have as much goodness for him, as she had had aversion.
Mariama having promised Abdalla all that he desired, she began the very same day one
of the most extraordinary Artifices, as ever was made use of, for the discovery of the thoughts
of an ambitious man and a Traytor; and lo, how she proceeded. She obliged Abdalla to
keep his chamber certain days, and not to let himself be seen of any but his Physicians, and
the Slaves which served him. At first Aly marvelled not to see the door kept fast against all
the Great ones of the Kingdom, because he knew that it is the custom of the Kings of Marocco to shut themselves up many times whole Moneths together wieh their wives and Slaves,
to the end that suffering not themselves to be seen so often, the people may respect them the
more: neither did he find it strange, that he himself was not permitted to enter there, by
reason Mariama, who kept her design concealed, told him, that Abdalla was not well,
and that they which looked to him, had forbidden any body from seeing him; as indeed the
Physicians had a command from the King to say so, and to be always very frequent about
him, that it might be beleeved he was sick. During this, Aly was somewhat jealous and
fearful that this retirement proceeded rather from Abdalla's love, then from any malady;
but at length the knowledg he had of Mariama's vertue dissipated this suspicion, and he beleeved, as all others did  that the King was effectively sick. In the mean time, Abdelcader
and he thought of the design they had in hand; and they brought the business to such a pass,
as it wanted not above eight days of being in an estate to be ready to break forth, when as
Mariama began to tell Aly, that the King was in danger; that his disease became every
day worse and worse; and that if he mended not the sooner, his Physicians were out of hope of him.
This Princess had carried the matter with such Art, as all those of the Palace were in tears;
for she had so well instructed all the persons that saw the Prince, as with a feigned melancholy
they possessed every one that spake to them with a true one. This false news stayed Abdelcader's
designs; for Aly represented unto him, that if the King should happen to dye, it 
would be a more favorable conjuncture for them, then that wherein they were, to make the
business which they had projected, succeed; because then they should have a lawful cause to
take up Arms for the executing of the Xeriffe Mahomet's Testament, to the prejudice of Abdalla's: That in the mean season they were not to neglect giving order for all things; and to 
cause as many Soldiers, as they could, of all the Garisons which depended the most absolutely of Aly, to come secretly into Marocco, to the end they might make use of them, as soon as Abdalla should be dead, or escaped from the danger wherein they thought him to be. Aly in this incertainty went twenty times a day to Mariama's lodging to know how the King did; but though he was one of the most dextrous men in the world, yet was this Princess more then he. In the beginning of this fiction she sighed, and shewed as much affliction, as if that which she said had been true; but when it came near to the time, wherein she had resolved to finish her design, as often as Aly saw her she composed her countenance in that





manner, as it seemed she took great care to conceal a part of her grief; and that her Soul was more nearly touched, then she made shew of. This Artifice failed not to work that which she expected from it; for Aly, thinking he had observed, how this Princess affected to appear more constant, then she was, beleeved that Abdalla was dead; and that Mariama, for some secret design, or to seize upon the Crown, or to conserve it for Abdalla's son,
would not publish it as yet.
When as Mariama perceived Aly's thought, she advertised Abdalla, that the next day
she would either convince, or justifie his favorite: And having instructed him in that which
she would have him to do, she caused a Guard to come in for to seize on Aly, in case there
should be need of it; and took order for all things so secretly, as no body discovered any
thing. The day following Aly early in the morning came to Mariama, with an intent to
employ all his address for the clearing of the doubt wherein he was: for ambition and love
gave him so much impatience, as he had no rest. And verily in this occasion the protestion
of Heaven appeared visibly, both to revenge Mariama of Aly's cruelty, and to preserve us.
For it is certain, that as the matter was carried, Abdalla and Mariama had been lost; Sophronia had been exposed to the violences of Abdelcader; Hipolita to the brutishness of
Aly, and the rest of us to be constrained to dye in defending them, or not to survive their loss
had not Mariama wrought as she did.
But in fine, Aly, being come one morning, as I have told you, to the Princesses chamber,
and she having used as much address in talking with him, as she had done at other times, augmented in such sort the opinion which he had that Abdalla was dead, as not able to let himself be any longer guided by prudence, he in plain terms desired the Princess to tell him whether the King were not dead? because, said he, if it be so, it were fit that the affairs of the
Kingdom were speedily provided for. Mariama, seeing so fair a beginning to her design,
did not answer him but with a great sigh, and without saying any thing unto him, she led
him into Abdalla's chamber. Now albeit he was already perswaded that the King was
dead, yet lest he not to be mightily surprized to see all this chamber hung with black Velvet,
all the windows shut, in the midst a great bed of State invironed with a balustrate of Ebony,
set all about with flaming Torches, and upon Cushions near to the Bed, the Mantle Royal,
the Scepter, the Crown, and the Turbanc of Abdalla, with his Scymiear at the feet of the
Bed, whereupon was a large black Cloth trailing a great way on the ground, which seemed to
cover the body of the King; some of his Wives and Slaves were about the Balustrade, who
testified by their countenance so sensible a sorrow, as would have drawn tears from any other
but Aly. The Princess having conducted him then into this chamber of mourning, and perceiving that this sad object had sufficiencly perswaded him that which she desired he should
beleeve, she began to shew an extream affliction, and to request him with feigned tears, that
he would perform the Kings last Will, in conserving the Crown for his son, according to
the Testament he had made, whereof he had the custody, though it was contrary to the Xeriffe
Mahomet's intention. And then, said she unto him, he hath commanded me to restore the
Slave Hipolita, and her fellows, to their liberty; in regard it had seemed unto him that he
had violated the Law of Nations in retaining persons in slavery, who by Tempest had been
driven into Marocco. But, continued she, generous Aly, this last thing imports not much;
nor have I told it you, but that I would not fail in any thing which my King, my brother,
and my Lord, hath given me in charge at his death. For so much as regards the Prince his son,
perform what you have promised him, and what you ought to do.
If Abdalla, answered Aly insolently, would have me conserve the Crown for his son, he
should have lived a longer time; for it shall never be reproached unto me, that I have placed
an Infant on the Throne of Marocco. The same Testament, added he, which gave the Crown
to Abdalla, shall set it on the head of some other; for in conclusiion, it is for men to govern
children, and not for children to govern men, no more then for women to give Councels of
State. And, continued he, for the Slave Hipolita, he that shall be King shall dispose of her;
and until then, whereat the Charge which I hold gives me absolute power over the State,
whensoever an incerraign happens, remic her presently into my hands, to the en
ceasing to be a Slave, I may at leastwise perform Abdalla's will, in breaking off her chains.
Ah, vile Traytor! cryed Abdalla, in coming out from under that Cloth of black Velvet,




under which he was hidden; thy perfideousness must be punished with my hand; saying so,
Abdalla layd hold on his Scymitar, and all the Guard, which lay concealed for that effect,
rushing into the chamber, Aly was so surprized, and so confounded, as he knew not at first
whether it were an apparition, or whether effectively this Prince, whom he had beleeved to
be dead, was living. In so great a trouble Abdalla without doubt had killed him, if the
Princess Mariama, who would not have him dye by so illustrious an hand, had not hindred
him; which was the cause, that Aly, being come to himself again, and freeing himself from
the Guard which would have seized upon him, opened a window when as they were not aware of it, and whereas all the houses of that Country, as they are here, are exceeding low,
he leaped into the Court-yard, and was so fortunate as he did not hurt himself, but got shier
away out of the Palace; leaving Abdalla so amazed and afflicted at his perfidiousness, and
Mariama so satified with the happy success of her design, that if the displeasure of seeing
Aly escaped had not moderated her joy, it would have been too violent.
Abdalla instantly commanded him to be pursued with all speed, and alive or dead to be
brought unto him: But Aly was already gotten into a mans house, whose life before times he
had saved. For in what disorder so ever his soul was, yet had he judgment enough not to go
to his own home; imagining rightly that he would be sought for there. In the mean time,
the fear he had lest the King should cause the gates of the City to be shut, made him seek out all
kinde of inventions to escape. For albeit the plot which he had layd with Abdelcader was
ready to be executed, yet wanted it so much time, as he durst not enterprize it, especially
out of the thought he had, that they would not have made use of so extraordinary an invention to discover his intentions, without having taken order for all things. He sent word
then secretly to Abdelcader, that he should attempt nothing until he was in one of the places
of their intelligence, to the end they might be assured of a retreat, if their affairs should go
ill. After that, he disguised himself like a woman; for whereas they are all vailed in that
Country, he believed that getting speedily out of the City, before any exact order was given
at the gates, it would be easie for him to save himself, as indeed it fell out. He that served
him in this occasion promised to bring him an horse to a place, which was not above a mile
from the Town; and then Aly, being disguised in the manner that I have related, went out
of Marocco a very little before the Guards had been placed at the Gates, with a Command
to suffer no body to pass out upon any pretext whatsoever. In the mean space Abdalla had
sent to search for Aly in his Palace, and afterward caused it to be proclaimed over all the City,
that whosoever could bring Aly unto him should have a recompence able to enrich him for
all his life.
The people, no sooner understood that Aly was in disgrace, but falling into an uproar
and manifesting their secret hatred unto him, plundered his Palace; and this wretched man
had not a friend, who for his own security did not at least-wise seem to be otherwise. But
whereas the people are inconstant in their resolutions, after they had committed an hundred
outrages, there ran a bruit amongst this multitude, that Abdalla was dead; and that the proclamation which had been made was an artifice of Aly, who meant to discover by this fiction, whether he were beloved, or hated. And whereas all extraordinary novelties easily finde
credit with the people, they believed this same; and carryed by despair for that they had used
too much precipitation, they went to the Court in Arms for to see Abdalla; who, not
knowing whether these which used this violence were Aly's partakers or no, durst not go 
forth to shew himself to them; not having scarce any body with him, because he had sent all them of his ordinary Guard in search of Aly. The people in the mean while not seeing Abdalla appear, were confirmed in their opinion, and augmenting their despair and fury they attempted to force the Palace; and they had already broken up the first gate, then as Abdalla, causing himself to be armed, and we being placed about him, appeased this storm with his presence, and by his speech assured the people that Aly had incurred his indignation.
In the mean time the man, who had promised to bring him an horse, found himself to be very much perplexed for the keeping of his word with him; for when as he presented himself to get forth, upon pretext of some business that he had in the Country, the Guards were already set, and having been at all the gates in vain, yet would he not give over so, but thought that another might be more fortunate then he; wherefore he confided in one of Aly's friends,




who taking the same horse which the other had made use of before, he went to one of the
gates to get forth, but he had the like success as the former; who, willing to hazard all for
Aly, sent a third person thither: which was the cause, that one of the Guard, who had more
brain then the rest, perceived, that although three several men had presented themselves for
to go out of the City, yet it had been still with one and the same horse; so that he certainly
believed there was some mystery in this adventure, and how it might well be that Aly was
not far off. This Soldier having imparted his thought to him that commanded the gate, he
conceived that his opinion was not ill grounded; wherefore, to clear himself therein, he
made shew of being perswaded by the intreaties of this man who desired to be let forth;
but whil'st to gain time he made yet some new difficulties, he sent for three horses, to the end
he might follow him a far off with two of his companions; which were no sooner come, but
having let him go out, and set them elves to follow him, they saw that contrary to the custom
of all such as fear to be followed, he went on still without turning his head to the place from
whence he parted, so great a desire he had to arrive where the unhappy Aly waited for him.
Seeing then that they might follow him without his being aware of it, they approached neerer
to him, then they would have done if he had behaved himself otherwise, and quitting the
high-way as weil as he, when they came neer to a wood, whither this man seemed to have a
purpose to go, they espyed a woman, who having discovered them, hid her self in the thickest
of the bushes. This action made him, that was carrying the horse to Aly, turn about his head;
who knowing that he was followed, would have taken more on the left hand, and not have
gone to the place where he was attended; but this trick would not serve his turn; howsoever it was not because those which had observed her believed that this woman was effectively Aly, but being neer unto it, they would needs know certainly what this adventure was.
The Captain then, having given order to the two Soldiers to seize on this man, went to the
place where he had seen the woman hide her self, and had not gone fifty paces but he found
her at the foot of a tree; where, keeping down her vail still about her, she besought him, in
counterfeiting her voyce, not to do her any violence. And when she saw that this man had
no intent to use her civilly, and seemed fully resolved to discover what she was, she would
have tempted this Captain with the hope of a great recompence; so that suddenly lifting up
her vail, Thou seeest, said she, the infortunate Aly, who can make thee happy if thou beest
wise; for if thou wilt resolve to let me escape, I will put thee in a condition that thou shalt
never need to ask any thing more of Fortune. This Captain, who was faithful, or it may be
did not believe that Aly in the case he was in could recompence him as much as he said, answered him, that he would never enrich himselt by a Treason, and without further delay he
called his companions, who, having tyed the man, on whom they had seized, to a tree, went
to help him to take the miserable Aly, who, though without Arms, left not off resisting them for
while. But at last they brought him to Marocco, and having conducted him before Abdalla, this Prince reviled him with all imaginable reproaches. And whereas Aly had always
been happy, this one blow of unhappiness so mightily surprized him, as that judgment and
prudence, which had rendred him so considerable in his prosperity, wholly abandoned him
in his misfortune: so that in stead of seeking to colour his fault, he confessed it as it was, and
related unto Abdalla all that he had said and thought, just in the same manner as I have delivered it unto you, for the Pincess Mariama had the goodness to recount it unto us afterwards; in so much as Abdalla regarding Aly, not onely as a Traytor, but as his Rival, the
tenderness which he had at other times had for him, was of no power to excite any thought of
pity in his heart; but contrarily the remembrance of the good-will he had born him incensed
his minde the more. At last, love, anger, interest of State, and jealousie, made the King
without further delay, as soon as Abdelcader was apprehended, even the very same day take
off the ambitious Aly's head, who seeing his loss inevitable resolved for it with constancy
enough. Thus was the Princess Mariama revenged on this man for his cruelty, and Hipolita delivered from one of her persecutors. Aly was no sooner dead, but the Princess Mariama, always generous, went and cast her self at the Kings feet, to beg Abdelcader's life of him, which he granted to her tears, upon condition that he should remain for some time a prisoner: For albeit he was guilty of high Treason, as well as Aly, for intending to usurp the Kingdom during his life, yet was there this difference, that Abdelcader was Abdalla's Brother, and was not his Rival.
But, Madam, to make an end of telling you at once, both the goodness of Mariama, and
our fortune, you shall understand, that in the confusion wherein all the City of Marocco was
this day, when as the Princess Mariama entred into a Chamber where these three fair Slaves
were, and saw them all in tears, especially Hipolita, who knew well that she was in part
cause of all this disorder; this Princess, I say, seeing them in this estate, had so much generosity, though she loved them very tenderly, as to deprive her self for ever of them: It may
be also, that the design of taking from the King an object of passion, which might trouble
his rest; from Abdelcader that which had made him fail in this duty; and from the Princess
Lela Mahabid another, which might make her in some sort forget the rank which she held,
carryed her to this resolution. But in conclusion, a little interest, and a great deal of generosity, made her tell them, that profit was to be made of others misfortune: so that before
the King had leasure to ask for them, she caused them to be secretly conveyed to the house of
a man, who absolutely depended on her; and having advertised us to repair thither, we continued concealed there above eight days. She in like sort caused the Mariners and Soldiers,
which we had brought to Marocco, to be delivered; for the ambitious Aly being dead, the
Princess Mariama was as powerful in the State as the King himself
The day following, Abdalla, seeing the Princess Mariama with a feigned melancholy in
her face, which yet he believed to be true, demanded of her, whether revenge, which is
said to be one of the greatest pleasures of Kings, did not give her some? My Lord, said she
unto him, present misfortunes are doubtless more sensible then past pleasures; the loss of the
Slaves which you gave me, is cause of more grief to me, then that of Aly hath made me feel
joy. So strange a discourse surprized the King extreamly; and whereas he desired to be
cleared therein, the Princess Mariama told him, that in the confusion wherein all things were
the day before, whether Aly had caused them to be carryed away by force, or whether we
had contributed any thing thereunto, so it was, that returning in the Evening to her lodging,
she had not found them there, neither could she possibly learn any news of them. I will not
repeat uneo you all that Abdalla did in this occasion, although the Princess Mariama acquainted us with it: But in conclusion, it suffices you should know, that Abdalla took this
adventure as an amorous Prince would do; and after he had caused search to be made over all
the City, except in the place where we were, which by the care of the Princess was exempted, she had the goodness to come secretly and bid her dear Slaves farewell, to whom also she
gave very rich gifts: And the night following, having disposed of all things for our departure,
she caused us to be imbarqued in a Merchants Vessel, that see sail the same night; and whereof the Captain, who was of Palermo, undertook to carry us whithersoever we would go
in consideration of an excessive sum of money which she gave him for that purpose.
Now, Madam, before I leave Marocco, I am to tell you, that the Marquis was not so
glad of the liberty which we hoped to enjoy, as for that he should no longer be exposed to
the hazard of being constant. I should have dyed, said he unto us, had I not escaped from
so great a danger; for if I had tarryed longer at Marocco, I was in jeopardy of changing my
humor, in not changing my Mistress: But in the end, Madam, we had no great leasure to
laugh at the Marquis his agreeable humor, for we had not made two days sail, when as we
encountred a Vessel, by the Turks called a Carmossal, which having set upon ours, that was
but ill provided of things necessary for war, became Master of it, notwithstanding any resistance we could make; and the Turks, which commanded this Vessel took us, and
brought us to be sold here at Constantinople, where our destiny hath been such as you have
understood.Isabella thanked Doria for the pains he had taken in recounting this History unto her. As for me, said Hipolita, I am not contented with my Brother, for me-thinks he stood a little too much in examining that which he calls fantasticalness in my humor. It is not for that you complain, answered Horatio smiling, but rather because you apprehend, that we do not judg of the greatness of your affection but by that of your jealousie. For my part, said the Marquis, I do not complain of Doria; and I have taken more delight in hearing him relate my love, then I took in it when I was in Marocco. And for so much as regards me, added Leonida, I am the least satisfied with his relation, seeing I served but for a pretext to Aly's love. Let us not jest so soon, said Sophronia interrupting her, for in fine we are still at Constantinople. You have Reason, answered Isabella sighing, and would it might please Heaven,





that I could as readily procure your departure from thence, and mine own with you, as I can
assure you that you are in safety there; but we must hope, continued she, re-assuming a more
quiet countenance, that the return of Justiniano will cause ours soon after. Sophronia's humor
being very serious, and consequently more agreeing, then the rest, with Isabella's melancholly, begot a particular conversation with her. The Marquis approached to Emilia and
intermixing his discourse with Hipolita's, Horatio's, Leonida's, Alphonso's, and Doria's,
they entertained one another, as persons whom the hope of a future good had made to forget
all the evils past. But at length night commg on, and Isabella remembering the counsel which
the Sultana Asteria had given her, not to incense the minde of Soliman, she took leave of
this dear Troop, and returned to the old Serraglio; where Asteria had been in much impatience for her return, fearing lest the Sultan her Father should be displeased, if she did not
observe the order he had given.
The End of the First Book.
The Second Book.ROxelana in the mean time was not without unquietness, in knowing by her Spies, that
Soliman's friendship to Ibrahim, and the respect which he had to Isabella, had kept
him until then from discovering his love plainly to her that caused it. For whereas ambition
was the only thing that raigned in her heart, she might well be jealous of the power of Ibrahim, but not of the beauty of Isabella. She knew that the grand Visier would never give
her the means to ruine him, nor do any thing against the service of the Grand Signior, were
he not constrained thereunto by some very sensible outrage. She knew also, that Soliman
would never disoblige Ibrahim if some mighty passion did not force him to it. In fine, the
love to Isabella was that, which begat a hope in her heart of destroying a man, whom she
did not hate, but because he was too generous, and that she would raign alone. And whereas she saw that if Isabella went every day out of the Serraglio, it might come to pass that
Soliman seeing her but seldom might peradventure change his mind, she resolved, for the preventing thereof, to complain of the liberty she had, and to let the Sultan understand, how
the Muphti had advertised her, that the people began already to murmur at it. There needed
no further matter to oblige Soliman to a thing, which he desired far more then she. But
whereas the fear of displeasing Isabella was so much the greater, as his love was the stronger,
he could not resolve, not only to forbid her from going forth, but to see her that day wherein
she should receive this order; neither knew he what person to chuse that might deliver this
rude message unto her: at last upon good advisement he sent for the Sultana Asteria, whom
he enjoyned, after he had extreamly caressed her, so to order the matter, that Isabella might
go but very seldom out of the Serraglio.
My Lord, said Asteria unto him, hath thy Highness forgot what thou saidst to her yesterday with thine own mouth? No, did the Grand Signior unto her, and therefore it is why
I will not make a prohibition which contravenes the civilities I have used to her, but I would
willingly, that by thy counsel and address, without any shew of my constraining her, she
should be carried of her self to do that which I desire; for the Sultana Queen complains of
the liberty which I give her, the people murmur at it, all the Sultanaes take it ill, and hata
her for it.
My Lord, answered Asteria, after that which thy Highness hath said to Isabella, I doubt
that my counsel and speeches will be suspected of her; and that she will give more credit to
thy words, then to all that I can say to her. I perceive well, said Soliman then to her, that
thou lovest not to carry displeasing news; but howsoever it concerns thee to please and obey
me. I do not refuse either the one or the other, replyed the Sultana with a great deal of submission, but if I might be permitted to say what I think, I would beseech thy Highness to consider
if there be not a kmd of rigor in keeping Isabella from visiting the only persons which are dear
to her in Constantinople; and by a constraint, whereunto she is not accustomed, to make the
place of her refuge become her prison. In truth, my Lord, continued she, the vertue of this Princess, and the services of Ibrahim, should deserve methinks, that our Customs should not be so
much considered as their Interests. Soliman, not being able to answer the Sultana Asteria
grew angry with her; you have your Reasons, said he unto her, and I have mine; but if I had
none, I would not for all that but be obeyed: Go then, and do what I command you, for
otherwise you alone shall be responsable to me for Isabella's actions. Asteria seeing so much
anger in Soliman's eyes no longer doubted but that this passion was occasioned by another,
so that fearing to hurt Isabella in thinking to serve her, she besought the Sultan to pardon
her and went away, after she had promsed him to perform his pleasure.
The Sultana Asteria, being extreamly afflicted for the commission she had received, went to Isabella's lodging, who seeing her enter with an extraordinary melancholy; Is it in your person, or in mine, said she unto her, that I am unhappy? I could wish, answered Asteria
imbracing her, that you were in a condition of having no other grief, but that of the compassion which others miseries might give you, but Fortune will not treat you so favorably. Isabella
suddenly blushed, and according to the custom of those that love well, she presently
thought of that which was most dear to her, and imagined that some misfortune was befallen
the grand Visier; so that beholding Asteria with an extraordinary attention, Is there, said
she unto her, any unlucky accident hapned unto Ibrahim? hath he been beaten? is he dead,
or a prisoner? No, answered Asteria, there is not any of that arrived; and that which I am
to tell you, is indeed enough to make you murmur, but not enough to possess you with any
extream grief; and if you discern any melancholy in my face, it is rather a mark of the part
which I take in all that concerns you, then of the greatness of your misfortune. And then
Asteria, not to hold her longer in pain, recounted unto her all the conversation which she
had had with Soliman, and thereupon advised her to comply so far with him. For truly,
said she unto her, either the Sultan does love you, or he does not; if he does not, and that he
desires you should abide here, to satisfie Roxelana, and the custom, you are not to oppose
his pleasure: and contrarily, if it be true, that he is in passion for you, the less occasion you
shall give him to be carried to some violence, will be the most advantageous and sure. A
Lover in choller (as I conceive) is more to be feared then another; for whereas choller doth
most commonly banish away respect from the Souls of those whom it possesseth, one must
forbear as long as is possible from exposing ones self to the hazard of angering an amorous
Prince, who being able to do whatsoever he will, is always in an estate to be feared. You have
reason, generous Asteria, said Isabella unto her, but what will my friends say, when they
shall see that I do not visit them any more, and that I abandon them? Will they not have
cause to think, that the magnificences of the Serraglio have blinded me? and it may be something yet worse. No, no, said Asteria, for we will cause them to be advertised of the truth
of the matter, or at leastwise of the pretext which they have made use of to retain you here.
But, added Isabella, what end can I foresee of my misery? The return of Ibrahim, replyed
Asteria, will make it cease; and he shall no sooner be at Constantinople, but the Sultan
will no longer have other then just desires, and you shall recover your liberty. After that
these two vertuous persons had entertained themselves a while, they parted; Asteria promising Isabella, if she would write to her Friends, to see her Letter conveyed unto them the
next morning, as indeed she failed not to do.
This news strangely surprized all this fair Troop; but whereas the pretext, whereof Soliman made use, was not without probabilitcy, and that Isabella by her Letter had rendred it
more likely unto them, to the end she might keep them from conceiving any thing to her disadvantage, they believed it to be as it was represented unto them, without seeking for any other
explication thereof; comforting themselves in some sort with the hope which Isabella gave
them of visiting them sometimes: For to make their separation the easier, though she could
not hear from Ibrahim as yet, she left not for all that to assure them that he would be back
in a little space; and so consequently they should ere long be in an estate of going to see their
Country again.
This hope failed not to work the effect which Isabella expected from it; all this company
was more jovial and more sociable, and whereas Ibrahim's Palace was wonderful fair, and
that they were served there by the Grand Signior's order exceeding magnificently, their exile
no doubt was supportible enough; sometimes they walked in the Garden; sometimes they
romed up and down in the Grot, or sat in the shade of the Grove of Orange Trees, which
was hard by; other-whiles they bestowed their time in the Gallery of the Turkish Emperors;
and many times also in the Library, where they met with that which diverted their sorrow,
or contented their curiosity. But one day when as they met all together in Ibrahim's Cabinet,
after they had called to mind all their mishaps, and had admired by what adventure fortune
had conducted them into a place, where they had encountred Isabella, passing insensibly
from one discourse to another, they bethought them that they had not been yet acquainted
with that which had arrived to the Marquiss. Whereupon Leonida demanded of him why
he had not related it unto them? You have shewed your seves so little curious of it, replyed
he, that I am resolved not to give you this satisfaction without some recompence. You have
too noble a Soul, said Leonida to him smiling, to be mercenary; and then again, what can
you ask of exiled persons, and such too as do not enjoy their liberty? To put you yet into






more pain, replyed the Marquess, I must tell you, that you alone can pay me in that manner
as I desire; and it is you alone that can oblige me to recount my last adventures. If you do
not explain your self better, answered Leonida, we shall not make up our march; but
whereas the entertainment of the company is exceeding dear to me, tell me, what recompence
do you demand? I desire, said he unto her, that before I relate that unto you which befell
me, you will let us know what discontent that was which made you quit Genoua to go to
Albengua; what moved you to marry a man whom you did not love, and banish one whom
you did not hate: For to speak freely unto you, it hath been imparted unto me at Genoua in
such a manner, as gives me a great deal of curiosity, and makes me desire to know whether I
have been told the truth or no. As for me, said Hipolita, I have intended a long time since
to intreat Leonida she would acquaint me with it; but Fortune hath so cruelly persecuted us,
as we have scarce had any leasure but to feel new miseries, without remembring those which
were already past. Certainly, added Doria, if I durst joyn my intreaties to those of the
Company, I would request Leonida to grant us this favor. For my part,
said Sophronia, I have not the same curiosiey, for I am so fully informed of this
History, as I do not know any thing that hath hapned to my self better. If the company,
said Leonida to her, will needs know it, I shall make advantage of it if you will take the
pains to relate it unto them; for as for me, I am fully resolved not to expose my self a second
time to the vexation which this relation hath been the cause of to me. Do not reproach my
old error unto me, said Alphonso interrupting her; and to deliver you from this unquietness,
and for fear lest I should find my self too weak to hear a thing without grief which hath given
me so much, I will go and walk in the Garden, or entertain my self with a Book.
Alphonso, after he had said this, went without attending Leonida's answer forth of the Cabinet, and would not return thither again, though the Marquiss called him more then once.
His absence did not for all that change Leonida's opinion, and whatsoever could be said unto
her, she would not recount her own History; but she requested Sophronia to take the trouble of it upon her. This fair maid, seeing that the whole company desired this complacency
of her, resolved to satisfie them, after she had prayed Leonida, that if she forgot any thing
she would put her in mind of it; and Leonida having proraised her to do so, she then made
the Marquiss to swear, that as soon as ever she had finished her relation, he should begin his:
And when as he had assured her that he would not fail therein, and had told her that he had at
leastwise as much desire to recount his adventures unto her, as she had to know them, Sophronia
began, and spake in this sort.
The Hisiory of LEONIDA.THe Adventures of Leonida have something so extraordinary in them, as they are to be
related in somewhat a particular manner; for to render the recital of them the more agreeable and intelligible unto you, I am not to say any thing to you yet of the beginning of
he life, of her first Conquests nor of her marriage, but only acquaint you with Alphonso's
love, which I believe took its beginning presently upon Justiniano's return, and a year and
half after the death of Leonida's husband. This Conquest without doubt was not disagreeable unto her; for, as you know, Alphonso hath merit, wisdom, and wit; and if after these, which certainly are the greatest and most essential good things, it is fit to consider the
rest, you are not ignorant that Alphonso is rich enough, and of a race illustrious enough to
touch a heart on the side of interest and glory, as well as of affection. In fine, whether Leonora were capable of love or ambition, she found in the person of Alphonso, wherewith to
beget these two passions in her heart, and wherewith to render them excusable. If Leonida
were not present, I would tell you, that whereas she hath a great deal of wit, Love in
this ecounter was introduced into her Soul rather by Reason, then by sense and inclination.But not to stand upon small things, you shall understand that Alphonso, who you have always seen so assidual in serving her, after he had rendred her all the testimonies of love, that a worthy person can desire of a man infinitely passionate, he knew at length from her own mouth, that his vows were not rejected, and that he was not forbidden to hope. After the day that she had permitted him to entertain her openly with his passion, it is certain that Leo-nida had continually all the complacency for him, which a vertuous woman was capable of.
And whereas you know that Leonida hath naturally a gallant wit, and a very jovial mannor,
she oftentimes gave him the pleasure to hear her jeer his Rivals in his presence, and an hundred
times made her Conquests serve for his glory. Alphonso then lived in this sort with more
content, then the extream love which he bore her seemed to permit; for, as I have heard it
said, this passion seldom leaves any great tranquillity in the Souls of those whom it
possesseth.
But for Alphonso, he was the most generous Lover that ever was; his inclination had not
been blind; all the world approved of his choyce; he loved an amiable person, and was beloved of her; she took care not to give him any cause of jealousie; his very Rivals served for
his delight and felicity by the usage that she gave them; his father did not contradict his affection; Leonida was of a free condition, and might dispose of her self; yea and to keep
him from being deprived of the pleasure of hoping for the possession of a person that could
render him contented, Leonida, to assure her self yet further of his love, would not so much
as let him make use of his friends for the motioning of their marriage. In so happy an estate
methinks it is hard to imagine what could trouble his felicity, especially when I shall have
told you, that Leonida used him still as favorably as before, and without any change arriving
in her, yet there arrived a change in him. I well perceive, continued Sophronia, after she had
been a while without speaking, that you cannot divine what it was which troubled Alphonso's happiness; and certainly I cannot think it strange, seeing according to my sense this adventure is so extraordinary, as it is impossible to conjecture it. You shall understand then,
that one day Alphonso being gone to see a kinsman of his, whereas the person beloved is a part
of all conversations, and a man infinitely amorous speaks without choyce and judgment of his
Mistress to everyone, he came to speak of Leonida to his kinsman, though to say truth he
was not worthy of that honor; for this man is both malicious and blockish; According
then to his humor and stupidity he rudely asked of Alphonso, whether he beleeved that he had
been the first which ever had been affected of Leonida?
Now whereas Alphonso had been a long time in the voyage, from whence Justiniano
brought him back, he had understood nothing of what had hapned to Leonida, for being fallen
in love with her presently after his return, no body had been so uncivil as to say any such thing
to him. It was not, as you shall know by the sequel of this History, because that which arrived unto Leonida was not glorious for her; but because love is a passion that renders the
spirit so sensible and delicate, as it is impossible to hear that the person whom one loves,
should have affection for another, without some sense of grief. And verily Alphonso tryed
it but too well in this occasion; he beleeved at first notwithstanding, that this was an effect
of the malice of his kinsman, who regarding his succession, had perchance a design to do what
he could for the rendring Leonida less amiable: but when as continuing his incivility he had
told him, that one, Octavio, of the House of the Pallavicins, and who was dead
since, had in times past loved her, and that he had been infinitely loved of her, he did not beleeve that this man durst have told him things so precisely, if they had not been true.
At length Alphonso, having made his visit, retired with some unquietness; nevertheless,
whereas he had not yet lost his Reason, he did not find that he had any cause to complain of
Leonida, for that she had been loved of Octavio, or for that she had loved him in a time when
as he was not known to her. For, said he, I should be unjust to desire, that the eyes of Leonida should not have begun to make Conquests before they captivaced me; and I should be
unreasonable to desire also that she should have been absolutely insensible of the affection of a
man, who it may be was of more worth then my self. Now whereas Love is ingenious to
torment those which are under his Empire, Alphonso did not complain of having a Rival, that
had not been hated, but for that Leonida had made a secret of it to him: This unquietness was
not for all that very strong, but you shall understand by the sequel of my discourse, that it
carried him to another, which put him to a great deal of pain.
Alphonso had no sooner the commodity to speak with Leonida in private, but making
shew as if it were without design he took occasion to name Octavio; this name, which had
been so dear to Leonida, could not be heard of her without touching her heart; and her heart
could not be moved, without giving some marks of it in her face: for herSense preventing
her Reason, she blusht and sighed both at an instant; howbeit desiring to conceal this disorder





from Alphonso, she layd her hand over her eyes, and endevoring to change discourse, he was
thereby perswaded, that this touched her heart exceeding sensibly; augmented his curiosity;
and made him resolve to testifie it to her plainly.
In pursuance of so precipitous a design, Alphonso, without deferring the execution of it any
further, said unto her, I would fain, fair Leonida, be assured, that after my being dead for your
service, my name should be so happy as to make you blush and sigh, as the blessed Octavio's
hath done. You should do better, answered Leonida sighing a second time, to call him infortunate Octavio. Whosoever hath been loved of you, replyed Alphonso, could never be
unhappy, notwithstanding any thing that could arrive to him otherwise. I wish for all that,
said Leonida, that you never make tryal of the like felicity: But, continued she with an altered countenance, why have you spoken to me of Octavio? Let us leave him to enjoy that
rest which he could never finde in this life; let us not trouble ours in troubling his; and let
us, I pray you, have so much regard to him, as to leave his ashes in peace. Please you to pardon me, said Alphonso then unto her, if without losing the respect which I owe to you, I
dare crave of you, for a mark of your affection, that you will take the pains to relate exactly
unto me, that which Octavio in times past bore unto you, that which you bore to him, and
briefly all that befell you till the time of his death; otherwise you will give me cause to complain of you. Leonida would not at first accord to Alphonso that which he desired of her;
for as she knew how highly her heart had been touched for Octavio, so she knew likewise
that it would be impossible for her to remember all their felicities, and all their misfortunes,
without a great deal of unquietness; wherefore she excused herself from it as much as she
could; nevertheless seeing that Alphonso took this refusal for a wrong, she promised to grant
him his desire, so as he would give her some time; and in this sort many days past away,
Alphonso being unable to make her keep her word with him. But at length, his curiosity being grown the stronger by Leonida's resistance, he testified unto her one day so seriously, that
he should hold himself disobliged by her, if she continued in the resolution which she seemed to have, as having appointed him a time to come to her for that purpose, she resolved to
content him. If one had then demanded of Alphonso why his curiosity was so strong, he
could not have told, at least-wise he hath acknowledged so much to Leonida since: For
whereas he was perswaded that she had loved Octavio, both by that which his Kinsman had
told him, by that which he had also learned other-where concerning it, and by the marks
which he had seen of it in her couneenance, if in her speech nevertheless she had disguised the
truth, that lying would have given him a great deal of unquietness; and yet he felt in his
heart, that if contrarily she should avouch unto him, that she had loved him very much, this
discourse would not please him. But at last, carryed by a secret motion, which he could not
resist, he went with an extream impatience to the assignation which Leonida had given him.
He found her more sad then ordinary; for whereas her imagination was filled with displeasing idea's, that charming and jovial ayr, which she hath usually in her face, was somewhat
changed. After she had caused Alphonso to sit down, and had told him, that she was going
to render him the greatest proof oT her affection that he had ever yet received, she was readv
to impart unto him what her fortune had been, when as Alphonso, before he would give
her leasure so to do, conjured her once again not to omit any part of all that which had arrived unto ber. But he had no need to intreat her thereunto, for Leonida had no sooner began
to speak but forgetting that she was recounting her History to her Lover, she suffered her
self to be charmed with her own relation; and shewing grief or joy, according as the matters which she related gave her occasion for, she omitted not any thing of all that happened unto her. She imparted to him, that Octavio's house being neer to hers, she had no sooner opened her eyes, but she was acquainted with him; and that he had no sooner beheld her in his tendrest insoncy, but he was pleased with her. That their Fathers being friends, they had a thousand times seen one another in that innocent age, wherein decency did not require one yet to live with so great a restraint; and that then, without knowing what it was to love, they forbare not carrying affection to each other. She told him further, that in this age, wherein feigning and dissimulation have no part, and wherein the incliations of the Soul appear such as they are, so great a correspondence was seen betwixt Octavio's and hers, as no difference could be found therein. But, said she to Alphonso sighing, neither he nor I knew, that this sympathy, which so straitly united our hearts and mindes, should disunite us eter-




nally; that this springing love should one day be the cause of his death, and cost me so many tears; and without dreaming of any such thing, the pleasure alone of seeing one another
and talking together, took up all our Souls. We knew not as yet for all that, added she,
what those thoughts were which we had one for the other; neither did we perceive
them, till decency would not permit us to see one another so often. The privation of a good
makes us know the greaeness of it, and the design which we had to conceal our affection began to make me suspect that there was something in it more then good-will: I did then all
that I could to disengage my minde from a passion, which I had always heard to be very dangerous; but whereas it was more ancient in me then Reason, Reason was not strong enough
to chase it out of my Soul; but contrarily it was she which engaged me further in it, and that
speaking to me of Octavio, drew the picture of the worthiest man that ever was. She told
him moreover that, which she felt in her heart, whenas by any reason of honor, or business,
he was constrained to be absent from Genoua; the small delight she took in Assemblies when
he was not there; and how much she enforced her self to seem merry during his absence. She
acquainted him also, how exact Octavio was in following her pleasure in all things; what
care he used to take from her all occasion of suspecting his fidelity; and with what discretion
he still demeaned himself towards her all the time of his serving her.
But, said Alphonso interrupting her, had you never any of those petty disorders, which
augment love, rather then diminish it? No, no, answered Leonida, Octavio never gave me
cause to complain; besides, our affection had no need of that artifice to render it the stronger; since it is certain that never any person loved more perfectly then we. Alphonso would
fain have assured Leonida, that he loved her yet better then Octavio had loved her, but his
minde was so unquiet, as he could scarce speak. And then again, Leonida gave him not leasure to do it; for she was so attentive in exactly relating all that had past betwixt Octavio
and her, as she never took heed of all the several changes which her discourse made in his
face. She continued then telling him, that after an indifferent long love, Octavio, having obtained permission of her to demand her of her parents, believed that his happiness was so sure,
as he had no doubt at all of it; for whereas his Father and hers had always lived as good
friends together, and their fortunes were equal, he could foresee no impediment in it. But
he knew not, said Leonida then looking on Alphonso, that a passion less noble then that
which raigned in his heart opposed his; and that avarice, which is far more powerful in the
mindes of old men, then love is in that of young folks, should destroy his and my hopes,and
should finish our love by his death, for to settle a grief in my soul, which I shall conserve there
eternally.
In sequel hereof, Leonida likewise declared to Alphonso, that one named Livio, of the
Family of the Frigozes, a man very rich in the goods of fortune, but very poor in those of
the minde, being touched with her beauty, without any thought of discovering his affection
to her, or gaining her favor, went the very same day that he fell in love with her, and demanded her of her Father; prescribing him no other conditions, then that of giving him his
daughter; and that this old man, who knew Livio's wealth, being more mightily touched
with the love of riches, then Livio was with the beauty of Leonida, had promised him to
bestowed her on him, and had engaged his word to him in such sort, as nothing was able to
make him break it. So that Octavio arriving an hour after that Livio was gone, and making
his proposition, he was wonderfully surprized to learn from Leonida's Father, that he had
promised his daughtar, and that it would be in vain for him to hope he might make him
change his resolucion. Octavio could not apprehend, that Leonida could be promised to any
one, and she not know of it; and on the other side, said Leonida to Alphonso, my fidelity
was so well known to him, as he durst not doubt of it. In so deplorable an estate, continued she, he left my Father, and came and found me out at an Aunts of mine, who favored our affection, and where I had appointed him to come and acquaint me with the answer he should receive. But O Heaven! cryed she, I did not foresee that this sentence
should be that of Octavio's death, and of the loss of all the felicity that I attended from it.
He came then, but with so much melancholy in his face, as at first I made no doubt but that
he had some fatal news to impart unto me: When as he had obtained permission of his grief
to speak to me, and that he had acquainted me, that not onely I should not be his, but that
I was already anothers, my affliction was so strong, that albeit Octavio's was exceeding




great, yet was it for him notwithstanding to comfort me. He told me that our misfortune
it may be was not without remedy; and that if I had as much stedfastness, as he had love, I
should vanqnish my Fathers rigor. Alass! said I unto him sighing, I will not bewail the tears
which I shall shed, if they may move his cruelty: but if they prove unprofitable to me, continued she, what arms shall I make use of? Of those of your constancy, said the infortunace
Octavio to me. Alass! cryed Leonida in making this relation to Alphonso, how often have
I repented me for not believing him! and rather chusing to obey my Father, then to be faithful to my Lover.
After this transport of affection, she recounted unto him all the resistances she had made against her Parents pleasure; her grief and despair, when as she saw that neither her prayers,
her tears, nor her reasons could avail; the pain she was in not to grant Octavio the permission
to steal her away, or to rid himself of his Rival; and for a conclusion, she acquainted him,
how the tyranny of her Father, and the consideration of her honor, having forced her to abandon Octavio, to marry Livio, she saw her self in so deplorable an estate, as that which
would have made up the bitterest grief of another, was her onely consolation. For, said she
to Alphonso, I had no other in this encouncer, then to know that I marryed a man whom I
could never love, no not if time should cure me of the passion I was in. It was not because
I was not resolved for my own glory to live well with him, but because I had at least-wise
this consolation, that Octavio could not suspect me of infidelity; yea and I hoped too, that
the more peevish Livio should be in his humor, and the more cankered and unpleasing he
should be, the more he would shorten my days. Judg then, said she unto him, if these
were the most agreeable thoughts that I had, what the rest were.
But in the end, said Alphonso unto her, you marryed Livio? Yes, answered Leonida
with tears; and the infortunate Octavio, unable to resolve to see me in the possession of another, departed from Genoua to go and seek for the death which he found soon after. For
although I had done an hundred things beyond what was fitting, to oppose my self against my
Fathers will, yet he believed with reason, notwithstanding he knew that I loved nothing but
him, that seeing I could not be marryed without mine own consent, I should never have
granted it, and that I should rather have resolved to dye, then abandon him. In so reasonable a thought, despair seizing on his soul, he went to the Emperors Army, and arrived
there so unluckily, both for himself, and for me, and so opportunely for the design which he
had, that the next day there was a battel fought; but before he entred into it, he desired to
let me understand, that he went not so much to expose his life for the Emperor, as for the love
of me. In saying so, Leonida let him see the Letter which Octavio had written unto her;
and whereas I have found it extreamly moving, and that it is not long, I think if I do not
remember the words precisely, I shall meet with at least-wise the true sence of it.
OCTAVIO'S Letter to LEONIDA.BEing unable either to cease from loving you, or to see you in the possession of
another, I am going to seek for death, as the onely remedy which I can finde
for my grief. And without complaining, or murmuring, I wish that the blood,
which I am going to shed, may not cost you too many tears, and that the end of my
life may not trouble the tranquillity of yours.
When as Leonida had made Alphonso read this doleful Letter, what shall I say to you
more, said she unto him with her eyes full of tears? Octavio, after he had given this Letter
unto a man that served him, with an express charge to keep it and deliver it to mine own
hand, if he returned not from the danger, whereunto he was going to expose himself in that
deadly battel. Whereupon he put himself into the foremost Troops, without any other
Arms then his Sword, to the end he might not fail in his design: Yet left he not for all that
to sell his life very dear to the Enemy, for he was seen to do wonders. But when he heard
the retreat sounded, because night approached, far from retiring with the rest he ran into
the midst of a body of Horse, and defending himself no otherwise but to provoke them the



more and to keep himself from being made a prisoner, he fell at length, and found the death
which he sought for. But alass, he dyed rather by my hand, then by the Enemies! After
this, said she, I concealed our affection no longer, and I gave so many marks of despair, as my Father himself repented his having rendred me so unhappy. A while after, Livio fell sick
and dyed, and left me the liberty to weep. Behold Alphonso, said Leonida unto him, with
as much grief as if Octavio had dyed the very same day, that which you desired to know
of me; but never speak to me more of him, I beseech you; for as you perceive there is a kind
of inhumanity in renewing so sensible an affliction in my heart, and for which I should never
be comforted, had I not found in you some resemblance of the humor and disposition of the
infortunate Octavio.
Leonida, having finished her relation, and wiped her eyes, thanked Alphonso for the sadness which appeared in his countenance; imagining that it was an effect of the compassion he
took of her past misfortunes. But she knew not, that the same which she believed to be a sense
of pity, was one of the most violent jealousies that ever an amorous spirit was tormented
with. For he so strongly perswaded himself that Leonida could not have the same apprehensions for him, which she had had for Octavio, as he went away from her, with an affliction the like whereof was never seen; yet he left her without giving her any notice thereof: but when he was come home, and had shut himself up alone in his Chamber, he ran over
all that, word for word, which Leonida had told him, for they had made so powerful an
impression in his Soul, as I think there escaped not so much as one out of his memory. The
more he considered the matter, the more was he confirmed in his jealousie. He remembred,
that she had loved Octavio, out of sympathy, out of acknowledgment, and out of reason;
that their affection began from their infancy, and continued all their life. Now, said he to
himself, Octavio is not dead in the heart of Leonida, he lives there still in despite of me, and
in such a manner as I cannot chase him from thence. He is not onely dead to keep me from
being revenged of him, but he is also dead to raign eternally in her soul. For, added he,
quite transported with grief, infortunate Alphonso, Leonida loves thee not neither but for the
love of him; thou knowest it from her own mouth, and thou canst not doubt of thy unhappiness. Ah how wretched I am, continued he, and how imprudent have I been in laboring
mine own ruine my self! if I had not been curious, I had been the happiest of men, and I
have rendred my self the most infortunate that ever was. That which I have seen, that
which I have heard; the tears of Leonida, her sighs, her speeches, and the marks of love
and tenderness, which she hath rendred to the memory of Octavio, have not onely destroyed
my present pleasures, and all those which I hoped for, but also my pleasures past. I no longer
marvel, continued he, if Leonida ill-intreats my Rivals, it is for the ashes of Octavio that
she hath this respect and this fidelity, and not for me. O blessed Octavio, cryed he, how
worthy of envy is thy fate, and how unhappy is mine! This fantastical jealousie got such
deep rooting in his heart, as he lost all rest, and almost his Reason. He wished sometimes
that Octavio were still living, to the end he might be revenged of him; and by and by after
in another quite contrary thought he considered, that if he had been living Leonida had never
loved him, and in this manner he was in some sort glad that he was dead. Sometimes likewise, he comforted himself for that Leonida had not loved Octavio so much as to marry him
against the will of her Parents; but then when he came to remember the last marks of affection which Leonida had received from Octavio, and what resentment she had testified for
it in relating it to him, he entred into despair again. What can I do, said he, that can ever
perswade her that I love her as well as Octavio? When I shall tell her, that she raigns in my
heart; that her will may dispose of mine; that she is absolute Mistress of my soul; and in
conclusion, that I live not but for her alone; with one onely word, she will see Octavio
above all that I have said; for telling me that he dyed to testifie his affection to her, is to tell
me, that he hath incomparably done more then I; that he raigns always in her minde; and
that I can never pretend to the first place.
Of all the thoughts that afflicted Alphonso, that of his not being loved hy Leonida but because
he had some conformity with Octavio, was the most inhumane; and the opinion which he
had, that since this was the cause of his Mistresses affection, she could not therefore see him
without remembring Octavio, troubled him in such sort, as he continued certain days unable
to resolve to visit her. Nevertheless there were some instants, wherein he condemned his



transports; and demanding of himself what he desired of Leonida in this occasion? he knew
not very well what he would have; but these good intervals lasted so little a while, as it might
have been said that he had no rest at all. If I had a Rival, said he sometimes, I should spend a
part of my anguish in seeking occasion to hurt him, and to set him at odds with her I loved,
and whom he should love; I should observe their actions, and knowing them, I should make
use of them, either to trouble their designs, or to advance mine, or to cure me of my passion.
But as the case stands, I have a secret Rival in the heart of Leonida, whom she entertains, I
not knowing, nor being able to hinder it: She weeps, she sighs, even as she is talking with
me, for this blessed Phantosm, which she loves still, and ever will love, since he is no longer
in a condition to be able to do any thing that can displease her. As for me, said he, I am in far
other terms; for I can easily displease her, and I cannot be agreeable unto her, but because I
resemble Octavio. Who ever saw, continued he, such another thing? I am jealous, and yet
I have no Rival; I am beloved, and yet I am not happy; and through an extravagancy of my
destiny, or of my huraor, I shall never be; let Leonida do what she will, it is impossible that
ever I should be so. For say I should marry her, it would always run in my mind, that if by
a miracle Octavio could rise again, she would abandon me for him: Yea and I beleeve, added
he, that if she could buy his life with my death, she would consent unto it with joy.
This deadly thonght seized so strongly on Alphonso's heart, as there were certain moments
in which he had as much hatred for Leonida, as he was capable of. For whereas this extraordinary jealousie agitated all his passions, and principally hate and anger, not finding a nearer
object to employ them upon, he had for her no doubt very different thoughts, and wholly
replenished with violence. Love remained nevertheless still victorious over all the rest, or to
speak more rightly, all those several passions were but effects of that same.
But in the end, after Alphonso had spent some days in the entertainment of his anguish of
mind, without seeing Leonida, the extream love which he bore her, carried him to her
whether he would or no. He hath told her since, that being gone out of his lodging, with
an intent to walk in some place out of the way, that he might muse by himself better then at
home, and exactly run over all the favors which Leonida had conferred on him, to the end
he might compare them with those which Octavio had received from her; he acquainted her,
I say, that against his purpose, and without being aware of it, his steps conducted him to her
door, where he no sooner was, but without consulting what he was to do, he knocked there,
and understanding that Leonida was within, he went up directly to her chamber without advertising her of it, though it was not his custom so to do; for Leonida seldom ever saw him
at her house, when she was alone there; but at this time Alphonso was not in a case regularly
to observe good manners. When as Leonida first saw him, she received him somewhat coldly; for whereas he had been a good while without sending to her, or enquiring after her, she
thought it was but just to use him so.
As for Alphonso, how disordered soever his mind was, yet durst he not make shew at the
beginning of that which he had in his heart; for respect and Reason had so much power over
him, as he could not resolve to discover his suffering to a person who caused it, until he should
be extreamly pressed thereunto by her. After Leonida had received him somewhat coldly,
and had observed the change which jealousie had made in Alphonso's face, the anger wherein
she was in for his neglect turned into unquietness. She was afraid lest some mishap had befallen him; or through some adventure, which was unknown to her, Alphonso should accuse
her unjustly of some defect of affection: In this belief she used him more favorably; asked
of him whether his melancholy was feigned or true; and urging him to answer her, she forced
him to tell her a lye, in such perplexed and obscure terms, as she doubted not but that he had
some unpleasing thought in his mind. She employed all her address then to discover it by the
several questions she asked him: but seeing she nothing prevailed thereby, and that the more she demanded of him, the less she was satisfied, she did him the favor to deal with him as a
Mistress, and absolutely commanded him to tell her what that trouble was which he had in
his Soul. You have assured me an hundred times, said she unto him, that I could do any
thing with you, and that your heart was not so much in your own dispose as in mine, wherefore then, if you have not deceived me, do you not obey me? When as I promised you that which you say, replyed Alphonso, I hoped that I might, if not raign in your heart, at least-wise not be surmounted there by any body.
Leonida perceiving then, that jealousie was the disease that tormented him, and knowing that she had given him no reasonable occasion for it, fell a smiling, and reached him her hand with that gallantry, whch is so natural unto her, Afflict not your self, said this amiable creature, nor fear that I will be displeased to understand that you are jealous; I know, said she
unto him still smiling, that we fear to lose the good which is extream dear to us; that jealousie is an undoubted sign of a strong passion, and of the merit of the person whom one loves, because if she were not amiable she would have no Lovers, and consequently she would give
no cause of jealousie. And I am the less offended, continued she, to see you touched with
this passion, in regard it is easie for me to help you. For to speak more seriously to you added Leonida, you have no Rivals which can keep me from giving you the pleasure when you
will to hear me termed by them, cruel, inhumane, rigorous, and inexorable. In fine, said
she unto him, you have a malady, whereof you shall no sooner have acquainted me with the
cause, but you shall be cured of it.
I do not think, answered Alphonso, with as much anguish, as Leonida had gallantry, that
it is as easie for you to restore tranquillity unto my Soul, as it was easie for you to deprive me
of it: for, continued he, I have no Rivals, whom you can ill intreat, and yet I am the most
jealous that ever was. I do not understand you. said Leonida to him with more coldness
then before; and if you do not explain your self better, I shall beleeve that either you have
lost your Reason, or that with a premeditated design you purpose to break off with me:
But take heed Alphonso, of leaving me long in this suspicion, for fear lest, whereas I am
proud and disdainful, I do not prevent you, and it be too late for you then to have recourse
to my goodness.
Alphonso, surprized both with Leonida's discourse, and the manner wherewith she spake,
resolved at length freely to tell her the cause of his grief. I know very well, said he unto her,
that I am going to speak in vain for my self, and indeed it is rather out of despair then Reason
that I am carried to obey you. Know then, continued he, that I am jealous, and that I shall
be so eternally, since the Rival that surmounts me in your heart can never dye; for to conceal
the truth from you no longer, the blessed Octavio is the object of my jealousie. The tears
which you shed for his memory are the cause of those which I shall pour forth all my life time;
the sighs which you fetch for him, shall always make me sigh; and his past felicity shall beget the
misery of all the rest of my days. You have loved him so much, continued he, and you love him
so much still, that I can find no place in your Soul: he must raign there alone, for indeed you do
not suffer me there but only to conserve the memory of him the better. Ah cruel man! cryed
Leonida hearing him speak in this sort, is it possible that you have the inhumanity to open the
Tomb of Octavio to persecute me? and in stead of weeping with me, or at leastwise of bemoaning and comforting me, you are so audacious as to give me marks of your hatred to a
person, whom I have so much loved, and whose memory is still so dear unto me; and yet in
grateful as you are, said she to him, you owe the affection which I bear you to that little resemblance you have with Octavio; but as this infortunate creature hath been the cause of it, so
shall he likewise give an end to it: for in regard of that which you have said to me, I ordain
you never to speak to me, and never to see me more. Why do not you shut your self up then
in Octavio's Tomb, answered Alphonso, since you can love none but him? Reply no further to
me, inhumane that you are, said she to him, and take from my sight the persecutor of Leonida,
and the enemy of Octavio.
Alphonso seeing Leonida in such choller, and not able to give her a good reason, either for
the maintaining of his error, or for the obtaining of his pardon, went away more jealous then
before. Alas, said he to himself, how sensible she is on that side! what a powerful mark of
her love is her choller! if she had loved me, she would have used me after another manner;
she would have taken pity of my weakness; she would have given me some new proof of
her affection; but she could not disguise her heart; all her thoughts have been for Octavio,
and all her words have been against me. In this opinion Alphonso got him home, with an
intent to obey Leonida exactly, and never to see her again. As indeed he came no more at her,
and that he might avoyd meeting with her any where, he feigned himself sick. Leonida, seeing to what a madness this ill-grounded jealousie carried him, desired at leastwise to conceal it from the eyes of the world; and to that effect she advanced a voyage which she was to make
to Albengua, where, as you know, she hath some means and affairs. She departed then from



Genoua, so incensed against Alphonso, that she could not so much as resolve to do him the
favor to complain of him by a Letter. Her departure did not cure Alphonso of his frensie, but
contrarily it augmented it; for he beleeved that Leonida did not abandon Genoua, but to bewail Octavio with the more liberty. This thought for all that was not the most powerful in
his heart; the impossibility of seeing Leonida, redoubled his desire of it, and love being
stronger still then jealousie, he purposed an hundred times to go to Albengua, to cast himself at Leonida's feet; to crave her pardon; and to obtain an oblivion of his fault of her.
But no sooner did the Phantosm of Octavio present it self to his imigination, no sooner did he
call the tears and sighs of Leonida to remembrance, but he re-entred into his former furies.
He made an hundred impossible wishes, which destroyed one another, and led a very irksom
and melancholick life. During that time he wrote divers Letters to Leonida, according to
the divers thoughts wherein he was; but when as she perceived so great an inequality in his
mind, and such marks of an unsetled Reason, she returned no answer thereunto; and although
she loved Alphonso so much, as to be extreamly grieved to lose him, yet could she not imagine
how she might cure him of this fantasie: so that finding no expedient for it, and being very
much incensed against him, she lived with so much anguish, that if Alphonso had known her
most secret thoughts, he would have been healed of his jealousie, and would have been assured
that she did not grieve more for the death of Octavio, then for the loss of his affection. It
was in this sort then that Leonida and Alphonso lived until that infortunate day, wherein we
were constrained to forsake Genoua. And I make no doubt but that Alphonso's despair induced him to follow us, as well as the generosity which he testified to us in this occasion, in
not abandoning us in the sorrow we were in, since he absented himself from a place where
Leonida was not. You know in like manner, what that Tempest was, which luckily for him
drove us to Albengua; neither are you ignorant how the compassion and generosity of Leonida obliged her to imbarque her self with us: But doubtless you do not know, what Alphonso's and her thoughts were, when as, after they had had the goodness to lament our misfortunes, they had the leasure to think of the terms wherein they stood. For whereas we had
scarcely been upon the Sea without a Tempest, without fear of death, and without extream
sorrow for the loss we sustained there, they had never talked together in private during this
troublesom Navigation; but when we were at Marocco, and at those times, wherein we had
the liberty to see and speak to one another, Leonida, who desired to conceal the terms wherein she was with Alphonso, entertaining him with indifferent things, found that his understanding was as deeply wounded at Marocco, as it had been at Genoua, with this difference
nevertheless, that at the first time he spake to her he moved her to anger, and the second time
he moved her to pity. What is the reason, said he to her with tears, that I can neither continue loving you, nor begin to hate you? and wherefore, since you are capable of some affection for me, must I not only share it with another, but I must owe it wholly to him? and
without being able, either to change my passion, or revenge my self, I must eternally be the
most wretched of men.               '
He that imposeth a necessity on himself, replyed Leonida, cannot complain with reason,
seeing he himlelf is the cause of the evil that arriveth to him. Ah, cryed Alphonso, that you
said true! and that I could dispose of my thoughts! Yes, Leonida, said he unto her, would I
could love you less, to the end I might love you always, and live happily in sharing your affection with another: But to endure, that in speaking to me you should always think of Octavio, that whil'st I sigh for love, you should sigh for affliction, and having absolutely given
you my heart, I should have but a piece of yours, is that which I cannot suffer. But how is
it possible, said Leonida interrupting him, unjust and cruel Alphonso, that a man, who is no
longer in an estate to have any affection for me, can give you jealousie? You do not comprehend, replyed he, what is the true cause of jealousie; the affection which any one should
bear you, would not displease me; it is of your thoughts that I am jealous, and not of those
of others. I would be willing that you should be loved, and that you should be adored, but
I would have you love none but me. I should not care to see you have an hundred Lovers,
provided I were alone in your heart; I do not hate my Rivals in their person, but in yours
only; it is you that can increase or diminish the hatred which I have for them, by the good
or bad usage you shall give them; and whereas you may love Octavio as well, though he is
not in being, as if he were living, you are not to think it strange that I am jealous. In fine,




continued he, you reduce me to those terms, that I had rather you should not love me at all,
so as you would love nothing, then to love me as you do, in loving Octavio better then me.
But Octavio is no longer in being, said Leonida to him sighing. Yet he is still in your Soul,
answered Alphonso, and this sigh which you fetched testifies it but too much unto me.
No, no, Leonida, said he unto her, that which I suffer is without remedy; one may sometimes make present mishaps cease, and decline those which may happen unto us in time to
come, but when we are unhappy by the remembrance of that which is past, death alone can
finish our pains: it is not in your power to forbear sighing, shedding of tears, and to say all,
loving Octavio more then Alphonso, wherefore marvel not if it be not in your power to
cure my mind of the jealousie that possesseth it.
It was much after this sort that the first conversation ended, which Leonida and Alphonso
had together at Marocco. But whereas Leonida affected him, and saw the estate whereunto
this fantastical jealousie reduced him, she opened her heart to me, and having asked my advice
what she should do, I counselled her, I think, as she desired to be, and as indeed was just.
I told her then, that she was to do all that she could to set his heart at rest! that this caprichiousness proceeding meerly from an excess of love, she was to pardon so bad an effect, since
it came from so noble a cause, and labor to restore his Reason to him, which she had deprived
him of. I agree with you, said she unto me, that Alphonso is to be eased, but in what manner do you think I may do it? if he were jealous of the French Marquiss, of Doria, or of
any other, it would not be difficult for me to satisfie him. The coldness which I would shew
to them, should soon see him at rest; and if there were no other means for it, I would deprive my self absolutely of their company to preserve it; but as the case stands I know no
remedy for it. It is from my self that Alphonso hath learnt the affection which I have born
to Octavio, I cannot unsay it; and if I should be so base as to swear to him that I have not
loved him so much as he imagines, I should tell a lye to no purpose; it being very certain that
he would give more credit to my tears, then to my latter speeches; and then again, that is
a thing I could never do. Counsel me then, continued she, how I shall carry my self. I
profess unto you, that I was then very much perplexed what counsel to give her, for I saw
no assured means that could cure Alphonso. Nevertheless after I had mused a little, my opinion was, that the only thing which she could do was, to endeavor to perswade Alphonso,
that she loved him as much as she had loved Octavio, as indeed, I think I did not oblige her
to tell an untruth.
At first Leonida told me that this would serve to no purpose, but finding nothing to stand
with more reason, she resolved to follow my advice: So that the first time she could speak
with Alphonso in private, his melancholy still increasing, she demanded of him, whether he
were resolved to live long in that manner? Truly no, answered he, for I do not doubt, but
from the misery which I feel, death will come shortly and deliver me. Is it not possible, said
she, that Alphonso should make use of his Reason in this encounter? I perceive very well,
answered he, that you have some pity of the hurt you have done me, but know that it is not that
which I desire; in the estate wherein Octavio is I could endure that you should have compassion for him, provided you would have affection for me; but I could not endure, that you should
have love for him, & have nothing but pity for Alphonso. What change, said she unto him, is there
come to me, since the time that you were contented with my affection? have I loved Octavio
more, or have I loved you less then I did? in no wise at all, I swear unto you. Wherfore then since
I am not changed for you, are you changed for me? If I had known my unhappiness sooner,
replyed he, I should have been less unhappy; it being certain, that I should not have engaged
my self so straitly in the love of a person, that could never love so much as she had loved. It is
true, said she unto him, that I have loved Octavio as much as I was able to love in the age
wherein I was; and it is true also that his memory is dear and precious unto me: but who
hath told you that I have not the same thoughts for you? I know it from your own mouth,
replyed he; for in having assured me that you loved me less than he, you have let me understand
that you have done that for his consideration, which you have never done for mine. You
loved him as soon as ever you opened your eyes, said Alphonso unto her; he was agreeable
unto you as soon as ever you knew him; and your Reason hath told you since, that you would
have done out of choyce, what you had done out of inclination; he hath had the happiness to
please you always, without ever giving you cause to be displeased; you have sighed for him



in divers occasions; you have many times bewailed his absence as much, as I could pretend to
be lamented by you, if I had lost my life in your service, and for my last unhappiness he dyed
in speaking to you of love. It may be, if he had lived longer, you would have repented the
tears, which now you shed for him; but as the case stands, there is a shadow of Octavio remaining, which is in stead of his person to you, that possesses your soul, and will not suffer
you to have such thoughts for another.
How unjust you are, said Leonida unto him, to speak to me thus! howsoever, since I am
resolved to try whether I can draw your minde out of that disorder, whereunto this strange
jealousie hath carryed it, promise me, that if by my discourse I can let you see, that you
have received more testimonies of my affection, then I have given to the infortunate Octavio,
you will then repent you of your error, restore tranquillity to your soul, and leave mine in
rest. Alphonso, after he had withstood it a while, in saying that she propounded an impossible thing to him, and by consequence he was not to answer unto it, resolved for all that to
hear her, and promised her that it she kept her word with him, he would crave pardon for
his fault, and would live better for the future. After they had made this agreement; tell me,
Alphonso, said she unto him, if I can make it appear to you, that since the day wherein I
permitted you to serve me, you never have had occasion to complain of me; and if I can
shew you, that the unhappy Octavio, if he were living, might with justice accuse me of
little affection; would you not have reason then to be contented? That will not be enough,
answered Alphonso, for it may be that you have never given me just cause to complain, and
that you have given Octavio occasion so to do, and yet for all that I cannot be happy: But
that which I desire is, you would let me know, that you have not done any thing for Octavio, which you would not have done for me, and that I think will not be easie for you to
perform.
I will peradventure shew you yet more, replyed Leonida, and to begin to cure you, is it
not true, Alphonso, that the original of the affection which I bear to you, is far more advantageous to you, then that which I have born Octavio? when I began to wish him well, continued she, I was in an age, wherein perchance that which I then called love, was none;
wherein I counted for great services petty things, which now I should not regard; and
wherein I acted without knowledg, and without judgment. I, said Alphonso interrupting
her, but not without inclination, which is that which renders affections the stronger and more
durable. I agree with you therein, said she unto him, but howsoever I had this inclination in an
age, wherein at first my reason did not combat with it, for I had none at that time. That is
the cause, said Alphonso why it is so well setled in your soul. And that is the cause, replyed
Leonida, why I do not know whether it were any whit strong, since I did not make resistance against it. But as for you Alphonso, when as you began to please me, and that my inclination carryed me to like of your services, I was in an age wherein my Reason was in a
condition to oppose it self against it; as indeed, it did resist it as much as it could. You had
to vanquish in my heart not onely that wisdom and that modesty, which permits not a woman to engage her self lightly in affection to a man; but had also the memory of Octavio to
surmount, in forcing me, if one may say so, to commit a greater infidelity against him, then
when as I abandoned him to obey my Father; seeing it is certain that I marryed Livio without loving him, and that I could not keep the promise which I had made to my self, never to love any thing more after the death of Octavio.
This discouse is very subtil, replyed Alphonso; but have you not told me that you did not love me but because I resembled Octavio? I have indeed told you, answered she, that by this resemblance you comforted me for the loss of Octavio; but not, that this conformity, which you have with him, was the onely cause of the good-will which I bear you. And certes, to speak truly, since I must retract what I have said with shame, if there had been no other then this reason, and that my inclination, your services, and your merit, had not constrained me; I should rather have avoyded the sight of you, then sought it: It was not yet so long since I lost Octavio, that I could behold his picture without tears and sorrow; I should rather then have shunned you with care, then received you favorably, had I not been forced by a power, which I could not resist. You make me new wounds, said Alphonso thereupon to her, in seeking to cure the old; for if it be true that you have this intention, why do you tell me that the sight alone of one of Octavio's pictures hath made you weep? I told it you, replyed



she, to let you see, that a man which could comfort me for so excessive a grief must needs have a great deal of power over my soul.
Alphonso, not able to contradict Leonida, suffered her to continue her discourse. You
perceive very well then, said she unto him, that in the beginning of our good-will I gave
you more marks of a strong indination, then ever Octavio received of me, seeing when I
loved him, I was in an age, wherein flattery, complacency, and gallentry, do extreamly touch
the minde. Octavio was my first conquest, and the first man that told me I had something
that was pleasing in me: and by this reason, it was almost impossible for me not to have admitted of his affection: But for yours, I accepted of it in such a manner, as would not permit you to doubt of mine, if you be reasonable. And to pass from the beginning to the
progress of it, tell me, I pray you, what is that I have done for him as long as he lived? All
things, answered Alphonso; and whereas more marks of affection are given by grief, then
by joy, without running over all the complacencies which you have had for him, I will only
say that you have wept an hundred times for him, and that all the love which I have born you
hath not cost you a tear.
It is not time yet to discover my weakness unto you, replyed Leonida; and to answer precisely to that which you say, as long as we lived well together, it is true that I have not wept,
but it was because you were not unhappy; and I doubt not but if our affection had been
thwarted as Octavio's and mine was, I should have had the same sorrow. And then again
you have this advantage over that infortunate man, that I have not forsaken you, as I did him;
for indeed if I had known how to love perfectly, I had not marryed Livio, I had not abandoned Octavio, I had not been the cause of his death. Therefore it is, answered Alphonso,
that to repair that failing, in not loving Octavio enough, you love his ashes and his Tomb;
you cannot speak of him without tears; you cannot think of him without sighing; and it
may be if I should lose my life, I should not give you a minute of unquietness. Ah cruel
creature! cryed Leonida, must I acknowledg my weakness unto you? Yes, insensible as you
are, said she unto him, I will resolve to do it, to the end I may cure your minde, or have so
just an occasion to complain of you, as absolutely to cease from loving you. It is true, said
she unto him, that I have wept for Octavio; but it is erue eoo, that spite of the grief, which
your capricious humor hath pofseffect me with, I can assure you, not onely that I should dye
withaffliction, is your death should happen, but that I cannot call that a life which! have
led since thus unjust passion hath troubled my rest in eroubling yours. in fine, Alphonso, I
have shed as many tears for the fear alone of lofing vour good-will, though you were faulty
towards me, as ever I sticd for Octavio, who dyed for my sake; so that if I am unjust, it is
onely to him, and no way to you. It is true, that he hath rendred me all the testimonies of
affection that I could attend from him; but it is true also, that I have not done the same; I abandoned him to marry Livio, and I have been capable of a second love, which without
doubt must be stronger then the other was, because it hath been able to comfort me for the
loss I had sustained: For you, Alphonso, it is not so; you have no occasion to complain of
me, I have done for you all that reasonably I could do; and when I gave you a mark of my
desire to please you, it is come to pass that out of an unheard of inhumanity, you have made
use of the same Arms, which I gave you, to combat me; my ingenuiey hath been the cause
of your malice; and mine innoctency hath made your crime. In conclusion, Alphonso, said
she unto him, with a countenance wherein appeared more grief then choller, you must resolve upon the choyce of two things, either to quit your error, or never to see me more.
For, continued she, I can no longer endure to see you in the disposition you are in; but know,
unjust and cruel as you are, that if you chuse the last, you will peradventure be constrained to
have, whether you will or no, ere it be long, more affection for the ashes of Leonida, then
yon have had for her her-self.
Alphonso, touched with so obliging a discourse, and not able to resolve to see Leonida
no more, cast himself at her feet, and having not the power, either to repent him of his error
or to crave pardon for it, or to say any thing that might shew he was not yet cured of it, he
gave her so many testimonies of an extream love, both by his silence and by his tears, as Leonida being sensibly touched with compassion, asked of him once again what it was he desired of her? I know not, answered he, onely I know that I can never cease from loving
you, nor ever separate my self from you. Be reasonable then, said she unto him, and be-



lieve that nothing in the world is so dear to me as Alphonso. Have pity of my weakness,
answered he, and if you will have me comfort my self, say not, that nothing in the world
is so dear to you as Alphonso, but say without reserve, that nothing is so dear to you as Alphonso. I know not, said she unto him, whether I have ill expressed my self or no, but
my intention was such as you would have my words to be.
I should never have done if I should repeat all Alphonso's questions, and all Leonida's answers; it shall suffice me then to say, that after an hundred odd precautions, to assure himsds
of the love of Leonida against Octavio's phantosm, whereuneo this amiable creature out of
her goodness answered seriously, he returned to Reason, and certain days after craved pardon
of her for his error, and absolucely promised her never to fall into it again. I believe notwithstanding that he was not so soon rid of it, and though he hath not spoken to Leonida
since of it, because it was one of their conditions. yet he hath not for all that left off having
many times very odd thoughts. This dispute and this peace were so secret amongst us, that
I was she alone who was acquainced with it; and that was it which perswaded Horatio and
the rest, that Alphonso's melancholy proceeded from the jealoulie he was in of the affection
which Aly seemed to carry to Leonida; but indeed it was that which I have declared unto you.
The Marquis seeing that Sophronia hdd her peace, and that Leonida was going to speak,
as is she would have excused Alphonso: It must be acknowledged, said he, that there is a
marvelous diversity amongst men; and that which makes me most to wonder, is to see by
example, that Alphonso, who in all other encounters hath a great deal of wit and discretion,
and would in indifferent matters without doubt think the same things that I do, should fall
into an imagination so far distant from all good sence. I think, answered Leonida smiling,
that in matter of love, it may be said that you are both of you an object of admiration and
wonder the one to the other, but with this glorious difference for Alphonso, that his fantastical jealousie was not derived but from an excess of passion; and that your inconstancy
proceeds not but from a defect of love.
Is the very excess of Reason, replyed the Marquis, comes near to folly, I believe that this
excess of love is not far from it: and if it be true, that by the effects one may judg of the
cause, acknowledg, fair Leonida, that this inconstancy, which you call defect of love in me,
gave you not so much unquietness, when I abandoned you for another, as this excess of passion hath been the cause of to you; and confess withall at least, that it were better to be
loved of a man of my humor, then of that of Alphonso. It would be more advantageous,
replyed Leonida very roundly, because as long as one should not be loved but by an inconstant man as you are, one should not be exposed to the hazard of too much engaging
ones self in this affection. And then again, continued she, there is this difference betwixt
you too, that I have cured Alphonso of his error, and that nothing can cure you of yours. You believe it to be just, and you finde it pleasant, judg then whether your disease be not incurable?
For my part, said Hipolita, (who according to her humor always took jealousies part) I cannot condemn Alphonso; nor should I be sorry that a man would render me this proof of affection. You speak in this sort, hid Doria interrupting her, rather out of temperature, then reason; but whatsoever you can say, I do not think that Horatio will become jealous out of complacency, and will open Tombs to finde a Rival there. It would be easier for me questionless to enter into them never to come out again, answered Horatio, then to give this unjust mark of love, to the person I affect. I believe what you say, replyed Hipolita, it being likely enough, that a man, who could see an hundred Lovers at the feet of his Mistress without being disquited at it, would be never a whit moved to know what she should grieve for a dead man.
As for me, added the Marquis smiling, if by an inversion of all the ages it might come to pass, that a person whom I should love had been beloved of all the Heroes of antiquity; that they had all dyed for her, and that the ashes of the Cesars and the Alexanders had been the object of her tears, and of her love, I should be less jealous thereof then of the least amongst the living; and there is not a man, who mis-shapen soever he could be, that would not more disquiet me to see him on his knees before my Mistress, then Alexander would in the state wherein he is, should be raign in her heart, as he raigned over all the Earth.I confess, said Sophronia laughing, as well as the rest of the Assembly, that in this occasion
I am of the Marquis his side, for I cannot but follow Reason wheresoever I meet with it. I
perceive, said Leonida then, that all the world abandons me, and that I have need of Alphonso's assistance for the vanquishing of so many Enemies. I am generous enough, answered the Marquis, to go and fetch him my self; and saying so, he went and called Alphonso;
who was almost ashamed to come unto the Company again, making no question but that they
had condemned his jealous humor. And whereas Leonida perceived it, Fear not, said she
unto him, as long as I am on your side, you will have no Enemies which you may not over
come; and doubt not that the remembrance of an error, which I have pardoned, can make
me angry with you. I believe you to be too just, replyed he, for me to suspect you of any
such thing, onely I fear that you will be accused for using too much goodness towards me
and that by this means I should be the cause of condemning a vertue in you, which makes
one to be commended in all the world besides.
Is we engage our selves in making of complements, said Sophronia interrupting him, the
Marquis will not be able to pay me that to day which he ows me, and so we should spend the
time less pleasingly then otherwise we might do if we gave him audience, for I assure my self
that he cannot tell us any thing but what will delight us. I do not know, answered the Marquis, whether this discourse be advantageous to me or no, howsoever, since I have promised
to relate that unto you which befell me here in Constantinople, I will not break my word.
And then again, continued he, to speak sincerely unto you, I shall have a share in the pleasure which I shall give you; it being most cerain, that I am of a humor to receive more satisfaction by recounting the adventures which have happened unto me, be they never so happy,
then I had at such time as they arived unto me. In fine, continued he, I comfort my self for mishaps in telling them to others, and I augment my good fortune in publishing it.
Seeing it is so, said Leonida, haste you to satisfie Sophronia, in satisfying your self, and be
not of the number of those, who make one hope so long for an indifferent pleasure, as one
is not obliged to them for it. All the Company having added their intreaties to Leonida's
discourse, the Marquis acquitted himself of his promise in this sort.
The History of the too good Slave.NEver was any so happy in servitude as I, and never did happiness produce an effect like
unto that which I am going to recount unto you. You remember without doubt,
that when we arrived all at Constantinople, and landed at the Port, there was a man, who
lightly imagining by the chains we had on us, that we were destined to be sold, and finding
something in my person that pleased him, bought me for the price that was demanded of
him. This man, who was my first Master, carried me home to his house; and whereas he
was one of the mightiest men in Constantinople, I was comforted in my misfortune to see,
that at leastwise if I were a Slave, it should be in a place where I should have companions.
I was no sooner come thither, but to testifie that he had some inclination for me, he caused
the chains that I had on me to be taken off, to give me lighter; so that desiring to be acknowledging for this favor, and render my slavery also more easie, by making my self be beloved of those, who might ill-intreat me, I became in two hours the best Slave that was in
Constantinople. I did not only that which was ordained me, but I also helped others to do
that which had been commanded them. And whereas it is the custom of the Turks, as I
learned afterwards, carefully to observe all their new Slaves at their first coming, my Master
was a witness of all the services which I rendred him, and seemed to be so satisfied with me,
that all the other Slaves began already to hate me.
The first day being past over in this sort, the next morning my Master would needs have
two wives that he had to see me; he commanded then that I should go to their lodging, and
whereas I knew not whither they led me, I was so surprized with their beauty, as I could
not forbear testifying a great deal of joy by my carriage at it. I found them so much the
fairer, because for four and twenty hours before I had seen none but black Slaves; I saluted
them then very civilly, and beheld them at leastwise with as much attention, as they had in
considering me: and without regarding whether my Master took it well or no, and without
remembring that I was a Slave, I thought of nothing but of making shew with low obeysances, as often as I could judg by their behavior that they spoke of me, that I was as respectful for them, as I was serviceable and diligent for their husband. But at length he commanded me to withdraw, which presently I did; true indeed it is, that it was not without
turning back my look to the place where I left two fair women, and truly I felt some pain in
separating my self from them.
I was no sooner gone down, and had done something which had been enjoyned me, but
I went with all speed into a back Court, upon which the windows of these womens chamber
opened, out of a hope that I might peradventure see them again: But by ill fortune my Master was there as well as they; so as having observed that I had nothing to do there, I cannot
tell you whether he suspected the truth or no, howsoever without having any cause to complain of me, he commanded me to be conducted the next morning to the Market where
Slaves are sold, and that there they should rid themselves of me at any price whatsoever. I
must confess to you that this change surprized me; nevertheless whereas I comfort my self
easily, as you know, in all things, I resolved for patience.
He that next bought me was a Merchant of Tripoli, whom I served as exactly as the other:
And whereas in these kind of houses the restraint is not so great, as in those of persons of quality. I had some content to see that in serving my Master, I should at leastwise have the satisfaction to meet sometimes with a wife that he had, and two Greek Slaves that served her,
and that certainly did not shame their Nation. I got their good-will the very first day, without being able to tell you how I did it. If they saw that I had a purpose to go forth, they
went in all haste to open me the door; if I carried anything, they presently offered to help
me; in conclusion I won their inclination in such sort, as my Mister hated me for it. For
when he was withdrawn to his chamber, his Wife and the Slaves praised me so much, as out
of jealousie and covetousness he resolved to be rid of me. He feared lest his wise would love
me too well, and that his Slaves would agree together with me to rob him.
In this thought, he conducted me himself to the Market; but whereas he was known to




be one of the most avaricious men in the world, it was not very easie for him to get me another Master: For although he assured them which cheapened me, that I was the most dextrous, the most serviceable, and most diligent Slave that ever he had had, yet no body would
beleeve him; because out of the intention he had to rid himself speedily of me he set me at too
cheap a rate. Certainly, said they who were willing to buy me, this Slave must have some
great defect which we know not of, seeing the most avaricious mm that is resolves to part
with him at so low a price. He is young, he is not unhandsom, he seems not to be melancholick; so that without doubt he hath taken him in some theft, or else he would never be
so forward to sell him.
In this opinion no body bought me the first day, nor on the second neither. Howbeit my
Master, having observed that his Wife and Slaves were very glad to see me brought home
again, he purposed to part with me for less then he had intended, hoping thereby to be the
sooner rid of me. But he considered not, that out of the opinion the world had of him, the
less he should ask tor me, the more he would be troubled to sell me. And verily there was never any pleasanter thing, then the choller of this covetous wretch when as he could not resolve
to lose his money, and was constrained in the evening to carry back to his house a man, whom
he beheld as his Rival, and yet had no cause to complain of him. For whereas I was not
ignorant, that Slaves in this Country are at their Masters mercy, the fear of some cross adventure made me very prudent, so that as long as my Master could see me I did not answer
the complacencies of his Slaves. Wherefore not being able either to sell me, to complain of
me, or to resolve so give me my liberty, because he would not lose but a part of the
money he had given for me, he was in an unquietness which I am not able to represent unto
you.
But at last on the third day a Boluchbassi, who had cheapened me when first he would have
sold me, and who imagined that I could have no other defect then of being unfaithful,
tempted by the good peniworth, resolved to take me into his service. And to secure himself
from the vice whereof he suspected me, he purposed to employ me in his Garden, untill such
time as he had made tryal of my fidelity. I was then conducted home to his house, where I
no sooner was, but having given me wherewith to labor the ground I found my self at first
somewhat troubled. Nevertheless whereas I had whil'st I was in the Wars helped many
times out of a bravery to cast up Trenches, and raise Fores, I became in two hours so good
a Gardiner, as I levelled an Alley better then all they of Constantinople could have
done.
My address having pleased my Mister, he brought three Wives that he had, followed by
all their Slaves, to see my work, which they admired; and passing from the commendation
of my work to that of my person, they said too much for themselves, if they took any pleasure in seeing me. Nevertheless it was not that alone which made me change my dwelling,
but it was for that, my Master being gone a little way off, and that I saw all these women
walking still about me, without making shew of heeding them, and as if it had been to render my labor the less irksom, I set my self to sing indifferent loud. My voyce pleased them
in such sort, as I thought they would never have left me; and when I perceived the satisfaction they received by it, I did nothing but sing, out of a hope that at least wise I should not
always be alone in this Garden, But for fear my Master thould think that it was only for his
Wives, or for their Slaves that I sung, I never gave over; so that if I had continued in that
manner any long time, I should, to speak poetically, have dyed like a Swan. My invention
failed not in the expected success, as also it failed not in making me to be turned away. For I
no sooner began to work, but I began to sing; and presently not only all the Slaves, not only all the officers of the house, but even my Masters wives, who were wont to tear the Sun,
and to walk but very seldom, came in all haste to hear me: A Slave could not be sent any
whither, but she would still make her way to go out at one of the Garden doors; and how pressing soever the matter was about which she ws sent, she would hide her self behind some hedg to hear me; and in this sort, though I wrought very diligently, yet left I not incommodating my Master, because I kept all his servants from doing their duties. This man had so much goodness, as he could not easily resolve to forbid me from singing; imagining that
I had no other design then to drive away melancholy in doing my work. Howbeit, seeing
at length that he could not be served by his people, and that even his Wives could not be kept




in the house, he absolutely forbad me from it, and I obeyed him without resistance. But this
which he thought to do for his quiet, and to retain me in his service, was that which troubled him the more, and made me to be turned away. For no sooner did his Wives
and his Slaves know of the prohibition he had msde me, but there was a strange disorder in the house. Both the one and the others murmured alike: Who ever saw such cruelty, said they, as to forbid a man, loaden with irons, and that does his duty so well, from
singing? this tyranny is so excessive, as is not to be endured, and certainly the like was never heard of. In fine, this murmuring and this revolt went so far, that this man to be at rest
resolved to sell me away, which he did the next day with a great deal of regret, because I
pleased him extreamly.
It was my destiny to be bought by an Arabian Physician; for whereas he had asked to
what employment I had been put in my Masters house, and had been answered that I was an
excellent Gardiner, he imagined that I knew some Simples, and consequently might be useful to him, by reason the Physick of this Country consists much therein. In effect, he acknowledged that he had never been served more diligently; and albeit I was very ignorant in
all the things that he made me do, yet my address and confidence supplyed that defect. This
Physician had two daughters, who having lost their mother lived alone with him; so that
whil'st he was in his visits, I had sometimes the pleasure to see them. For whereas the women of Constantinople are very curious of their beauty, the desire they had to gain me, to the
end I might give them certain waters for the face, which their father would not let them
have, made them use me very civilly; and for fear I should be put away, they taught me all
that I had to do the best they could.
I had no sooner made an end of whatsoever the Arabian Physician had commanded me to
do at his going forth, but I went to entertain his daughters at a lattice window that was very
low, and teach them new means to become fair, which I said I had learnt in Italy; so that
when my Master came home, he never found me araongst his essences: yet he could not complain of me, beause whatsoever he had ordained me to do, was always performed. He imagined then, that since I was so diligent, he was to give me more employment, for fear lest
out of idleness I should have too much conversation with his daughters; but whereas they
were dextrous, they perceived his design, so as finding that to busie me, besides necessary
things he had left me great store of Grite roots to prepare for the Baths, which are so frequent
in this Country, they made me give them part of them; so that all three working, the business
was quickly dispatched, and we had time enough besides for conversation: In so much that my
Master coming home in the evening, with an opinion that he should find me very busie, and
a belief tbat he had met with an excellent expedient to keep me from entertaining his daughters, he was strangely surprized to see me labor no more then I was wont to do. Nevertheless
he could not resolve to quarrel with me, having never been so well served as
by me.
In this unquietness he took a new resolution, which was to enjoyn me to wait upon him
in the streees, and to leave him in my place who was usually to accompany him. But these
maids were no less witty in this occasion then the other; they won this Slave with money
and dealt in such sort, as when we came home, there was nothing done of all that had been
ordained him; and this out of the hope that their father would alter his mind, and not carry
me any more abroad with him. This sight notwithstanding wrought that which they expected not; for the Physician, seeing that when he carried me abroad with him, none of his
work was done; and that when I stayed at home, his daughters always sent for me, resolved
to sell me. And truiy I was not sorry for it, in regard I had but little knowledg in the mingling of Drugs; and in my ignorance, I could not find out a better invention, then when as my
Master named one to me, which I knew not, to chuse another, which had no ill quality; to
the end that at leastwise if I did no good, I would do no harm.
In going from thence, I was bought by two Janizaries, who having demanded of me in
that corrupted Italian, which every one understands at Constantinople for the commodity of commerce, whether I could carry their Arms, and keep them bright? When as I answered them, that I would do it as well as I could, they agreed of the price, and carried me home with them. And whereas I was better seen in the use of a Scymitar, then in the knowledg of the vertue of Simples, the manner wherewith I handled theirs when they came to their




house pleased them in such sort, as I was their well beloved Slave. I looked upon the blade of
it like a man that was nat ignorant thereof; I knew of what temper it was, and by my behavior they judged, that War without doubt hid been my Trade.
Now you must understand, that these two Janizaries had each of them a fair Slave; and
that as long as I was with them, though they were both of one company, yet were they of a
different Squadron, so that they were not both upon the Guard at one and the same day; by
which means one of them always remained at home, as it were the Guardian of the two
Slaves. In the mean time I acquitted my self admirably of the employment had been conferred on me; and never had their Arms been so well kept, as since the time that I had been
in their service. But if they were contented with me, no less were the two Slaves, though I
contributed nothing thereunto: For by reason of that which I told you in the beginning, I
was never less a Love, then in all these several encounters, albeit I was never so much beloved. These fair Slaves did not for all that testifie unto me both at once the good-will they
bore me; and out of a particular address they chose the day wherein the Janizary that was their Master was upon the Guard, so that he which stayed at home very well perceived the
care and complacency which his friends Slave had for me; but whereas he was contented with
my service, and saw that I contributed nothing thereunto, he did not advertise him of it.
The same reason which this Soldier had, the other had also; and by this means I was for some
time equally beloved of both the two Janizaries, and of the two Slaves. It hapned at
length, that by order of War these two Janizaries were put into one and the same Squadron,
and thereby would have been constrained to leave me alone with their Slaves, being obliged
to go upon the Guard the same day, had they not bethought themselves of telling one another that which they knew concerning the good-will these Wenches bore me. Wherefore considering how they were equally interessed in the business, they disputed a good while betwixt
themselves what they were to do. At last, though they loved me exceedingly, they sold me that
very day, not being able to resolve to leave me alone with their Slaves.
The fantasticalness of my fortune so wrought, that a Musician of this Country, who taught
to play on the only Instrument which they have at Constantinople, and that holds somewhat
of the form of the Lutes of Italy, took me into his service, and carried me home with him.
The next day after my coming thither, when he was gone abroad, I took one of those Turkish
Lutes (for he had many of them,) and whereas this Instrument hath but one string, I thought,
that if I could put more to it, this Harmony it may be would please my Master, and might
obtain my liberty. I took one of those Lutes then secretly, and going to one of those that
makes them, who dwelt hard by this Musicians house, and whom I had by chance taken
notice of as I came thither, I directed him how I would have it done. At length I made him
fit this Lute for seven ranks of strings; and whereas I had still one of those enamelled Gold
rings left, which are worn rather out of gallintry, then for their value, I gave it him for payment of his pains. Being returned home, I put strings to this Lute, and beginning to touch
it, I drew to me with my harmony my Masters wife, two sisters that he had, and three
Slaves. So that when he returned, he found me in the midst of all these women, who harkened to me with a great deal of delight and attention. At first he was angry, both with them, and
with me; but coming to hear me himself, he pardoned them their curiosity, and hoping to
gain good store of money by my means, he caressed me extraordinarily. He undertook notwithstanding to maintain against me, that in something their Lutes were more perfect then
ours; because, said he, having but one string they can never be out of tune. This pleasant
reason being nothing hard to be destroyed, I made him easily comprehend, that my Musick
was better then his; and the very next day he carried me to all the houses, whither he used
to go; where they had no sooner heard me, but they would hear him no more. This man
being as proud as he was covetous, although I might have got him a great deal of money, yet
could he not resolve to carry me any more along with him; so that purposing to learn to play
as I did, he left me at home; and mornings and evenings only I took him out Lessons. But
I was not long both his Master and his Slave; for whereas he was no less jealous then proud,
knowing that his Wife, his Sisters, and his Slaves, did nothing but harken to me, out of a
capriciousness worthy of him, he resolved to sell me. Nevertheless it was not without a
great conflict in his mind; and vanity, covetousness, and jealousie, gave him no little
trouble.
This last passion being the stronger, he sought to rid himself me; and had so much malice,
that to keep me from teaching some other that which he would not learn of me himself, he
went to sell me at the Port, where I was presently bought by the Captain of a Galley, who
was upon going forth to scour the Seas. I confess that this adventure vexed me; for considering that I left you all at Constantinople, without knowing whither I went, I was out of
quiet above an hour at least; howbeit I hoped to meet with soms good fortune which I did
not foresee; and in this thought I served my new Master with as much care as I could, yet;
was I not long with him, for whereas he was avaricious, and had no need but of one Slave,
that could row, he was perswaded that he might sell me for so much, as he might therewith
get two in stead of one; so that all the endevor which I had used for two days space, to
shew him the greatest address I could possibly express, served not but to make me be sold away the sooner, and to give me a Master of an higher condition then those last I had had; for
whereas the price which he asked for me was great enough, I was no longer cheapned but by
persons of quality. The Cadilesquer then of Natolia became my Master, and to his house I
was carried; but from him I parted a little after for the like reasons; then was I entertained
by the Muphti; and the next day after I past into the service of the Aga of the Janizaries,
where they that sought for me by the Grand Signior's command found me. Indeed it is true,
that I should not have been long there, for I was to have been sold away again the very
same day.
In conclusion, after I had had for my Master a great man of the Port, a Merchant of Tripoli, an Arabian Physician, two Janizaries, a Player upon the Lute, an African Captain of
a Galley, the Cadilesquer of Natolia, the Muphti, and the Aga of the Janizaries; after,
I say, I had equally satisfied them all, Fortune at last restored me to liberty. And truly I was
not a little obliged to her for so far complying with my humor, as not to let me wear the same
chains long; it being most certain that I should have been dead with grief, if she had used
the matter otherwise. For is it credible, contined the Marquis, that a man, who could not
live long under the Empire of one onely Mistress, whose dominion is incomparably more
gentle then a Merchant of Tripoli's, could have lived long under that of an imperious Master? And to say all in a word, it is easie to be imagined, that if I had still worn but one
chain, it would have seemed very heavy to me, seeing even bracelets of hair would incommodate me if I should wear them long. Change is the charm of all pleasures, and the ease of all
sorrows. There is not an evil, how little soever it be, that would not become insupportable
to me, if I should always endure it after the same manner; nor is there any which I should
not bear with patience, if it were not always the same. For in fine, whether it be for the
pains of the body, or for the pains of the minde, one cannot pass from one evil to another,
without some moments of rest. Change hath this marvellous in it, that in pain it self, mauger that which we feel, it diverts, it eases, and fortifies us. And of what humor soever we
be, we think not so much of the evil that is arrived to us, but that we have some joy for
that which hath left us.
You are too eloquent on this subjed, said Leonida interrupting the Marquis, and if I might
be credited herein, both for the interest of publique society, and good manners, you should
be prohibited from ever speaking in the behalf of inconstancy: For whereas you have a great
of wit; whereas also you speak as a man interessed; and as a man that maintains his own
cause, you may at leneth pervert the good thoughts of some. If it be true, added Sophronia, that one easily perswades others, when as one is mightily perswaded himself, I acknowledg
that by this reason, the Marquis should be the most dangerous Orator in the world. If I had
established my doctrine well, answered he, you should be constrained to acknowledg, that it
is not contrary either to common society, or the publique good. For never hath any inconstant man precipitated himself; never hath any inconstant man killed his Rivals, nor ill-intreated his Mistress; and fire, sword, and poyson, are things of no use in nature to him; but
he leaves them to the disposing of all those obstinate Lovers, who always render themselves
unhappy, in following this constancy, which you term the Queen of all Vertues. We are not
to judg always of things, replyed Doria, by the event; and then in this occasion it is not
Constancy that makes Lovers unhappy, but Fortune, that delights to persecute Vertue; and
in this sort, even unhappiness, serves for the glory of which are constant.     '
For a conclusion, answered the Marquis, I know full well, that if Justiniano had not been



constant, he should not be now absent from his Mistress; he had not been banished from his
Country; he had not been a Slave; he should not be in Persia, and in jeopardy to dye there.
If Isabella had not been constant, she should not be in the old Serraglio; and if all you that
are here had not followed this goodly vertue, you had not sighed so much as you have done,
and peradventure you should not be at Constantinople. If that be a punishment of our fidelity, replyed Alphonso, you must at least-wise acknowledg, that that which you call our chastisement, is your recompence, seeing you are here as well as we. It easily appears, answered the Marquis, that I am not unhappy but for your sakes; for do not you see how Fortune
hath made be beloved of all my Masters, of all their Wives, and of all their Slaves? and to
work a prodigy in favor of me, she hath caused them all to turn me away without hating me.
I must confess, said Hipolita, that this adventure is altogether extraordinary, and that it is
not a little strange to imagine, that that which should have made you use but one chain, hath
made you change it so often. You know me but ill, fair Hipolita, answered the Marquis,
when you speak to me thus; for I can always break my chains, but never wear them out.
After this, all this fair Troop ran over the Marquis his adventures again, and not able to
forbear laughing at their imagining him a Slave to two Janizaries, a Gardiner, a Physician,
and a Merchant, they figured him such to themselves as he had been in all chose divers employments which he had had. And he himself represented them unto them in so diverting a maner,
as mauger their ancient miseries, and those wherein they still were, they passed away all that
day without annoy, without care, and without melancholy.
The End of the Second Book.
The Third Book.WHil'st this agreeable Corapany endeavored to forget their present misfortunes, by
remembring those which they had avoyded; Isabella was in an extraordinary melancholy, although she was as yet but in the apprehension of an evil that was to arrive unto her.
Every time that she heard her chamber door open, she always believed that Soliman was
come to discover his unjust passion to her; and every time that the Sultana Asteria went
from her, it seemed to her that she abandoned her to the Sultan's violence. There were yet
some times wherein she condemned her own thoughts; and wherein Emilias speeches gave
her some consolation. These good intervals for all that lasted not long; and how constant soever Isabella was, she was always nearer to despair then to tranquillity. On the other side,
Soliman was in no less pain; his love, his vertue, and his irresolution upon that which he
was to do, put his Soul into so great a disorder, as he then merited to be as much lamented,
as blamed.
But at length, whereas it is hard to consent to the rendring of ones self unhappy for anothers felicity, and to renounce things out of generosity which one ardently affects, Soliman's
Reason being combated by his own desires, by a violent passion, and by the Artifices of Roxelana, it found it self in the end so weak, as he absolutely resolved to speak to Isabella of his
passion. I know very well, said he to himself, that this is to betray the friendship which I
have promised to Ibrahim; but I know withall, that it would be the betraying of my self,
and the cause of my death, if I should bereave my self of the hope which I have of prevailing
one day with Isabella.
In this resolution, Soliman went to the Princesses chamber on a time when as the Sultana Asteria was come from her, and that none but Emilia was with her. When as first the Princess saw him, she changed colour; and Soliman on his part, who very much respected her,
and that still loved Ibrahim, thought to alter his resolution; and in this sort, fear troubling
Isabella, and respect silencing Soliman, they were a while unable to speak to one another.
The Sultan was he at last that began the Conversation, in craving pardon of Isabella for the
constraint wherein she lived. My Lord, said she unto him, since it concerns the quiet of thy
State, I dare not murmur at it; and though the privation of my friends be a displeasure sensible enough, I do endure it without complaining of thy Highness; I do accuse Fortune, and
do justifie Soliman, who without doubt will never be but equitable. Would to Heaven, said
he unto her, I might be sure that you would speak thus always! My Lord, replyed she, this
is a thing which will absolucely depend on thy Highness; it being most certain that I shall ever
be reasonable, and not be so inconsiderate as to think ought to the disadvantage of thy Majesty,
if I be not constrained thereunto by thy self. I could have wished, replyed Soliman, that
without exception you had promised me never to think amiss of me; for it may be you will
learn from mine own mouch that I am faulty.
Isabella blusht at this discourse, and casting down her eyes without daring to look any
more on Soliman, and being unable to answer him, she was a pretey while in this incertainty: 
but on a sudden, Soliman, carried away by his passion, resolved to discover it unto her. I
know full well, said he unto her, that I am going to destroy my self; that in acquainting you
with my thoughts, I am going to make you hate me; but I would fain have you tell me,
added he, before I confess my crime unto you, whether an error, which is not voluntary,
merits as much chastisement, as a premeditated malice? My Lord, answered Isabella, all
persons that have great Souls like thy Highness can never commit faults but voluntarily. There
is nothing that can force Reason when one will make use of it; and the most violent passions
without doubt are but the pretext of weak ones, whenas they will excuse the bad actions
which they do; it being certain, that it is not impossible to surmount them. I knew well
enough, said Soliman interrupting her, that you would be a rigorous Judg to me; that you



would judg of others by your self, and that you would condemn in another, that which is not
found in you. But, amiable Isabella, continued he, you are unjust to deal so; seeing it is
impossible that ever your Soul should be put to so difficult a tryal, as that is which I have encountred. You have but weak enemies to fight with, and a great deal of vertue to to resist
them; your Reason, in what a occasion soever you find your self, is always on your side;
but, amiable Isabella, in this wherein I am, my Reason is my cruelest enemy. It is not because she hath not opposed all my thoughts as much as she could; and this is it which puts me
out of all hope of vanquishing, havng no longer arms to defend me. For my Reason hath been so absolutely surmounted, as it is rather by her then by my passion, that I am resolved
to discover my hurt unto her which hath caused it. Let thy Highness take heed, said Isabella
to him then, that in discovering it thou make it not the worse; and that that which thou believest
would be a remedy for thy grief, be not a means to increase it. That which you say,
answered Soliman, may easily fall out; but, continued he, what would you have a Prince
do, who is no longer Master, either of his heart, of his soul, or of his will; who sees his
death indubitable, if he conceals the disease wherewith he is stricken? and who absolutely
resolved to dye, or to move the person whom he adores with love or pity.
Isabella, knowing not what to answer to a discourse which she understood but too well
for her rest, fetched a great sigh in lifting up her eyes to Heaven, as it were craving succor
from thence; which Soliman having observed; I perceive, said he unto her, incomparable
Isabella, that you have understood me; that you are not ignorant of the Conquest you have
made; and I thank Fortune, for that she hath not compelled me to tell you that I love you,
so to make you know it; for it is certain that I should have been much troubled to execute the
resolution which I had taken for it. But after I have perswaded you, continued he, without
giving her leasure to answer him, that Soliman adores you, suffer not that, which hath accustomed to be beneficial to all Lovers, to be prejudicial to me. For, added he, I see very
well, that the more I shall perswade you that I love you, the more you will hold your self
injured by me. But to take away at leastwise the means from you of reproaching me with
my crime, I will acknowledg, divine Isabella, that I know being your Protector, I ought
not to be your Lover; that loving Ibrahim as I do, I ought not to be his Rival; that respecting you as I ought, I should not use any discourse to you that offends you; that loving
glory, I ought not to endure an affection which may blemish it; but I know, more then all
this, that love never shews it self, either greater, or more perfect, then when it destroys
friendship, forces Reason, and without considering either honor or glory, carries us to dye,
or to make our selves be beloved of the person whom we adore. This, incomparable Isabella, is the estate whereunto you have reduced my Soul; but if notwithstanding I may be
permitted to employ Reason for the obliging of you to pity, remember that you would be unjust in causing the death of a Prince, who heretofore hath saved Ibrahim's life; and that
cruelty can never pass for a vertue. Be then in some sort indulgent to my passion, and at least-wise bemoan the hurt which you have done me.
Soliman holding his peace, and Isabella being somewhat come to her self again; Is it possible, said she unto him, that this which I hear is true? and that the greatest Prince of the
Earth should be the weakest amongst men? No, I cannot think it; and the discourse which
thy Highness hath used to me, is doubtless a design to prove my constancy and resolution.
But, my Lord, to oblige thee no longer to continue so dangerous a fiction, know, that if it
were true that thy Highness had for me the violentest affection that ever was heard spoken of,
it should not serve but to hasten my death; it being most certain, that the most terrible and
horriblest torments that can be imagined should never carry me to be wanting, either to that
which I owe to Ibrahim, to my self, or to thy Highness. No, my Lord, I should never be
a Complice of great Soliman's fault; and for his own interest I ought always oppose my self
against him. But, continued she, it is in some sort an injury to thy Majesty to answer so
precisely to a discourse, whose foundation is not true. Would to Heaven, replyed Soliman,
both for your content and mine, that it were so! But, amiable Isabella, it is but too true
what I say; and if there be any feigning in my discourse, it is that I have not said all that I
feel. I confess, that I am faulty towards Heaven; that I am so towards Ibrahim; that I
betray the friendship which I have promised him; that I forget the care of my glory and honor; and that I betray my self; but in conclusion, being faulty towards all the world, I am



innocent towards you; since it is certain, that a violent love to speak reasonably, can never
offend the person that hath begotten it. And how constant soever you be for Ibrahim, how
rigorous soever you be for me, you cannot without injustice but take pity of the deplorable
estate wherein I am. I do not demand of you your love as yet, but some compassion; and
at least bemoan me, if you cannot love me.
Great Princes, replyed Isabella, ought to be sensible of pity, but they never ought to put
themselves into a condition of being the object of it to others: Neither will I be drawn to
beleeve that Soliman hath a thought so unworthy of himself. For, my Lord, how can I
think that thy Highness will stab a Poignard into the heart of Ibrahim, after thou hast saved
his life? if it should be so, it had better, both for him, for me, and for thy Highness, that
he had been left to languish in his irons, or to dye of melancholy, then to save him for to kill
him the more cruelly. Let thy Majesty consult well with thy self, and thou wilt find without
doubt, that thy heart agrees not with thy mouth; that thy words betray thy thoughts; and
that Ibrahim is yet more powerful in thy Soul, then the fatal beauty of Isabella. No, said
Soliman interrupting her, do not justifie me in this sort; since in the terms wherein I am, I
have no other design, then to let you know, that I am the most faulty of all men, in perswading you, that I am the most amorous. Ah, my Lord, said she to him weeping, doth not
thy Highness consider, that at this very time it may be, wherein thy Highness useth so strange
a discourse unto me, Ibrahim is fitghing with thine enemies, is hazarding his life for thy service, and shedding his blood for a Prince, who makes me shed tears, and who without doubt
will bring me to my grave, if his unjust love doth continue?
Soliman being moved with so pressing a discourse, stood a while without answering thereunto; but at length his passion still surmounting his vertue in this occasion; I know, said he
unto her, that Ibrahim's life ought to be dear unto me; but I know withall that mine ought
to be considerable to me: and I am certain, that what exploits soever he can do in Persia, I
have done more yet in consideration of him. I have fought for him against my self; I have
felt my self in the flame without daring to complain; love and friendship have torn my heart;
and I know no torments so terrible which I have not endured since the first instant that I saw
you, rather then to do any thing against the affection which I bear him. But being come to
the terms, either of dying, or speaking, I chose the last; and so much the rather, because I
do not think but a man, who could abandon you at Monaco, to come unto me to Constantinople, will easily enough resolve to quit you, for the saving of a Princes life, to whom he is
indebted for his own. Ah, my Lord! cryed Isabella, is Ibrahim be faulty in this occasion,
it is against me, and not against thy Highness, who by this very fault art yet the more straitly
obliged not to commit one against him. For what doth not a man deserve, who rather then he
would fail in his word which he had given thee, resolved to abandon, not only his Country, not
only his Friends; but the only person whom he could love; who was in stead to him of all the
world; and without whom his life had been irksom, and death the term of his desires? No,
my Lord, continued she, flatter not thy self in this occasion; think better, both of Ibrahim and of
Isabella, and be most assured, that as I am certain he would dye a thousand times rather then
abandon me, so should I do the like, rather then be unfaithful to him. And if by some prodigy, which I cannot fear should happen, Ibrahim should consent to thy passion; if he himself should speak to me of thy love, yet let thy Highness know, that I am not capable of failing by example. I should cease to love Ibrahim, if he ceased to be generous, but I should
love thee never a whit the more; contrarily, I should regard thee then, both as having outraged me, and as having bereaved me of a vertuous Lover.
Isabella was going on in her discourse, and Soliman was going to interrupt her, when as
the generous Asteria entred: And whereas the Sultan had still some respect for Isabella, he
would not command the Sultana to withdraw; but being unable withall in the estate wherein his Soul was to begin an indifferent Conversation, he went away, leaving Isabella with an
affliction, that may be better imagined then described. He was no sooner departed, but
Asteria who had observed a great deal of alteration in Isabella's and Soliman's faces demanded of her with much impatience and grief, what it was that had caused the trouble
wherein she saw her. Alas! answered the Princess, how have my fears been too well
grounded and how true have your suspicions been! and then she recounted unto her what
had past between her and Soliman, with so many testimonies of resentment, that SultanaAsteria was exceedingly moved therewith. This misfortune did not altogether surprize her
for all that; because she had sufficiently observed in divers occasions, that the Sultan her father was desperately in love with Isabella; but she had nevertheless conserved some remainder of hope, that his reason, and the friendship which he bore to Ibrahim, would surmount
his passion, or at leastwise keep him from discovering it to her. Isabella for her part had thought as much, so that being equally surprised, one might almost say, that they were equally afflicted. For whereas the Sultana Asteria was extreamly generous, she was grieved not
onely for Isabella's interest, whom she very much loved, but also for the Sultan her Fathers;
who by this unjust passion blemished his glory, and did a thing unworthy of himself. She
feared likewise that this love might have dangerous consequencs; for she was not ignorant
to what extremities this passion had carryed the minde of Soliman in divers occasions; and so being in much unquietness, she was very incapable of comforting IsabellaIt was in vain for them to seek for some remedy to their misery; it was too great to find one
for it. Emilia propounded nevertheless unto them, the advertising Ibrahim of the outrage
was done her; but whereas he was too far off for them to hope for any succor from him,
this advice was but a weak consolation to Isabella. Howbeit she desired the Sultana Asteria
to endevor the finding out of means to convey a Letter to Ibrahim, which the Sultana promised her to do; upon condition that she might obtain of her generosity, that he should be
contented with delivering her, without enterprizing to be revenged on Soliman; for, said the
Sultana to her, Were not the Grand Signior my Father, knowing him as I do, I could not chuse
but have compassion of the estate wherein I see him. If he were not generous, he were not
to be lamented; but I am well assured, continued she, that he punishes himself in offending
you; that the remorse which he hath in his Soul torments him as much as his passion; that at
the very same time when as he speaks to you of his unjust passion, he craves pardon in his heart
of the generous Ibrahim; and that he repents at that very instant wherein he commits the
fault. Alass, cryed Isabella, how dangerous is this unprofitable generosity! and how little
difference is there beewixt a man that doth ill without knowing it, and another that knoweth
vertue, and is not able to follow it. Repentance, continued she, that begets no change in
the minde of him that repents, is rather a weakness, then a remorse. But, said she to Asteria, I desire you to pardon me for not remembering that you are the daughter of Soliman;
and I promise you, if Ibrahim can return before the Sultan's love hath layd me in my grave,
and that he can deliver me, to obtain of him that he shall not think of revenge: and I am very
certain, added she, that what affection soever Ibrahim bears to me, he will be grieved to
hear that which we will write to him, but will not conceive any hatred against Soliman.
After that these three afflicted persons had talked a good while of this subject; and that
Isabella, having written to Ibrahim, had given her Letter to the Sultana Asteria, she tryed with gifts to gain one of the Eunuchs that served them, to the end he might fly out of the
Serraglio, and carry this Letter to Ibrahim with as much speed as possibly might be: but it
fell out, that after Soliman had been at the Princesses lodging, there had been such an exprsss
Order given, that none should be suffered to go out of the old Serraglio, as it was impossible
for her to execute her design, and that was it which redoubled her affliction, and that of
Emilia and Isabella. But if these three persons were afflicted; Soliman was not without
unquietness; that constancy which he had noted in Isabella's minde extreamly afflicted him,
by making him see an impossibility in his design; yet out of an altogether extraordinary persecution, that which opposed his love augmented it; and that stedfastness which he had found
in the Soul of the Princess was a new charm, which rendred her yet more amiable.
Roxelana in the mean time, being advertised of all the Grand Signior's thoughts, by that
Slave whom he had made his Confident, carryed him still on by the means of the same Slave
to violent resolutions; but whereas respect never quits love, but when as fury and despair
take up the place of it, Soliman suffered not himself to be perswaded with facility to employ
menaces, where submissions are ordinarily most powerful. He continued then a long time in
testisying his love to Isabella with high respects, magnificent presents, frequent visits, with
tears, and intreaties: but the more submission he used, the more constancy Isabella shewed,
and the more she made it appear that her vertue was invincible. Nevertheless for all her rigor,
and that love cannot subsist, as they say, without hope, yet Soliman ceased to hope without
ceasing to love; and contrarily his passion becoming more violent, that little reason, which




had always made him retain some fear of displeasing Isabella, being almost quite banished
from his soul, he resolved to speak to her once for all, to see if he could gain her. That which
carryed him the rather to this extream resolution, was the thought he had that it would not
peradventure be long before Ibrahim returned; and that a conqueror or conquered, the love
which he bare to Isabella would make him soon finish this war: for when as Ibrahim went
away with an absolute power to treat of all things, without having new order from Soliman,
he had assured him, that he would come and render him an account of his voyage himself,
without ever sending to him before.
The Sultan, not knowing then at what time Ibrahim would return, and well foreseeing
that his voyage would not be long, if by ill fortune he had not received his last order, as he
began to doubt, meant to try if he could obtain that by fear, which he could not obtain by
love. In the mean time Isabella lived in so great a melancholy, that all her vertue and constancy were not strong enough to keep her from wishing, that death would speedily deliver
her out of the deplorable estate wherein she was. She saw her self far from Ibrahim, without means to hear from him, the place of her refuge become her prison, the sight of her
friends forbidden her, Soliman's persecution dayly redoubling; in fine, she was exposed to
most sensible miseries without other consolation, then that of the Sultana Asteria's, and her
dear Kinswomans tears. Her friends on the other side, were not without unquietness; so
long an abode at Constantinople possessed them with a great deal of grief; and the privation
of the sight of Isabella very much troubled them; but at length, nothing resting for them but
patience to mitigate their displeasure, they comforted themselves as well as they could with
the hope of Ibrahim's return, wherewith they were still entertained from Isabella; who
not able to diminish her own misfortunes, endevored at leastwise to flatter those of others
with this hope that she gave them: for the Grand Signior had still permitted her to send unto them by a Capigibassi, in whom he absolutely confided.
All these illustrious persons being in this deplorable estate, Soliman, thrust on by despair
and his love, went one day to Isabella's lodging, having first sent a Command to the Sultana Asteria to go to that of Roxelana, for she had for a pretty while before been seldom absent from the Princess. This command exceedingly disquieted the Sultana; but not able to
do any other then voluntarily obey a Prince, who had power and right to constrain her
thereunto; she left Isabella with Emilia, without letting her know any thing of the fear
she was in, that Soliman had a purpose to use some displeasing discourse to her, seeing he removed her from her. Scarcely was she gone out of her chamber, when as Soliman came in
to it; and whereas it seemed to her that he had less civilicy for her then he was wont; and
that his looks gave more signs of choller, then of love; she was in some joy, hoping that it
may be her constancy had so far provoked him, as to oblige him to turn her out of the Serraglio; but she soon understood, that this incivility, and this choller was an effect of his love. I
see very well, said he unto her, that my visits do importune you; that my presence displeases you; that my passion begets your hatred; that my respects augment your pride; that my
prayers render you inexorable; and that tears do harden your heart; Wherefore, continued
he, I am resolved to take another course. I have treated you too long as a Mistress, it is just
then, since you will not be so, that I cease to be a Slave: but whereas I cannot cease to be a
Lover, I must tell you once for all, that if by your cruelty I am reduced to despair, I shall be capable of undoing others in undoing my self. How, my Lord, said Isabella then to him, can thy Highness perswade me that which thou sayst? No, no, continued she, I know thy vertue too well; and it is as equally impossible for thee to possess me with fear, as with love;
thou mayst have unjust desires, but I hold thee uncapable of a wicked action. Thou mayst, I
say, have weakness, but not cruelty; and love cannot produce in thee the effects of hatred.
It is not, added she, because I do not wish with all my heart, both for thy glory, and my content, that either out of choller or hatred thou couldst resolve to chase me from thy presence
and never to see me more.
The opinion wherein you are, replyed Soliman, that the same passion, which carries me to
persecute you, will keep me from hurting you, is that without doubt which makes you speak
with so much confidence; but know, that a Prince, who sees nothing in his choyce, but death
or your affection, ought to enterprize any thing for the avoyding of the one, and obtaining
of the other: It can never be unjust for him to think of his preservation; that ought to be



preferred before all other things. I have friendship for Ibrahim; I have veneration for you; but I have also some interest in my life. I have done what I could to procure my content, without troubling yours; but at length, seeing I cannot do it, and that there is a fate which will
not let me live without you, I must seek out the means for it. Remember then, that he which
craves your affection, can command you; that he which offers you his heart, is not unworthy
your love; that Ibrahim owing his life to me, ougt to render it me in this occasion; that after
so many services, submissions, respects, sighs, and tears, the anger and spite of being despised
may seize upon my Soul: and for a conclusion remember, that revenge is the delight of incensed Kings; that Ibrahim is in my Armies; that you have in Constantinople persons which
are dear to you; and that you are in the Serraglio.
It is true, my Lord, replyed Isabella, that I cannot be ignorant of all these things; but I
know withall, that thy Highness commands, both in thy Armies, in Constantinople, and in
the Serraglio; and that consequently I have no cause to fear any thng; but contrarily I
think that Ibrahim, my friends, and I, are in more safety in thy Estates, then in our own
Country. And then again, my Lord, I cannot imagine that the remembrance of Ibrahim is
utterly defaced out of thy memory; that a man whom thy Higness hath so much loved, and
so much obliged, can be ill-intreated by thee; nor can I believe that Isabella can inspire thee
with such unjust thoughts; no, my Lord, I cannot think it.
Isabella, replyed Soliman, hath not possest me with unreasonable thoughts, I have nothing
but love for her; howbeit I must confess, that her cruelty posesses me with fury; and that
she may carry me to destroy all that I shall think can ravish her from me; and consequently to
do all that I shall believe can serve my turn concerning her. This being so, answered Isabella,
I need not be threatened in the person of my friends, nor in that of Ibrahim, since on my
onely will that absolutely depends which thy Highness calls rigor, and which I term an effect
of Reason and Vertue. For, my Lord, continued she, were not my heart, nor my word engaged to Ibrahim; nay, had I as much affection for thy Highness as I am capable of, yet should
I not give thee more testimonies of it then I have done. Were not my Religion, I say, different from thine, yet in that I could not be thy wife, I should not be thy Slave, since the heart
of Isabella can never have thoughts contrary to her honor and her glory. The Slaves of Soliman, replyed he, are more then Queens of other Nations; and then again, to say the truth,
to have you command absolutely in my heart and soul, is not to treat you as a Slave.
Isabella, thinking she was to speak more throughly to the Grand Signior, then as yet she
had done, and believing, that when he had no more hope, he would have no more love, said
to him with a more confident voyce then before: Finally, my Lord, all that I can say to thy
Highness, is, that if, forgetting thy usual mildness and generosity, thou couldst resolve to carry
me by fear to that, which thou couldst not get by love; and for that effect wouldst persecute
me in the person of Ibrahim, who is dearer then my self, to me I would see him dye rather then
change my resolucion. Let thy Highness judg after this, whether death can fright me, and whether fear hath any power over my Soul. Consider then that though thou hast no hope left thee,
yet thou hast a mean left thee to be generous; but in fine, added she, let thy love in this occasion suffer it self to be surmounted, either by reason, or by choller; have hatred or friendship for
me; be my Protector or my Enemy: let thy Highness not see me but to comfort me for the absence of Ibrahim, or never see me more. I know, continued she, that I speak with a great deal
of boldness; but, my Lord, since my complaints, my tears, my prayers, and Reason it self have
not been able to obtain any thing of thee, it seems just unto me to tell thee once for all, that
nothing can change my minde; that neither ambition, nor fear, have any power over my
soul; that vertue onely raigns there; and that thy Highness forgets thine own glory to no
purpose.
Isabella made this speech with so much firmness, as Soliman not able to be moved with
compassion, suffered himself to be transported with fury; but in such a manner, as there
were not any threatenings which he used not to the Princess. And for a conclusion he said
unto her as he was going away, if fear can no whit prevail on your soul, no more shall pity
on mine: we shall see in the end, if you be not changed in eight days, whether your
minde will be as constant as you say; and you shall know but it may be too late, that Soliman, when he pleases, can tell how to make himself be obeyed at Constantinople. After he
had said this, he left Isabella, and abandoned her to her grief; which Emilia saw to be so



just, as she could not condemn her; and all that she could do in this encounter was to weep
with her. What a misery is mine! said this infortunate Princess, after she had been a while
without speaking; who ever saw, continued she, a like adventure? The greatest and best Prince
of the Earth is become the basest and cruellest amongst men; he pays a generosity with ingratitude; he betrays the friendship which he hath promised; he violates the law of Nations; my
protector is grown to be my Tyrant; and whilst Ibrahim is venturing his life for his glory, this
unjust Prince would make me forget mine; but what say I? it may be that his cruelty will
not rest there; he that can betray what is most sacred in this world, that harkens not to reason, that no longer knows vertue, may also be capable of a design to destroy Ibrahim: And
of all this, continued this Princess, Isabella is the cause: she alone is the source of his misfortunes; she alone gave him encouragement to follow his generosity, when as she made him
return to Constantinople; for, continued she, if I had effectually testified that I would not
have had him gone; if I had told him that the chiefest duty carries all the rest; that he was
to have considered nothing but me in that encouncer; that one ought not to be generous to
the prejudice of the person beloved; and that in the end I had joyned force to intreaty; he
had not returned; I had not been carryed away by force; I should not be at Constantinople;
Soliman should not be my persecutor, and we should not be separated: yet this is not my last
fault, added she, I should not have let him go into Persia, or resolved to have gone along
with him my self: but alas! who would not have been deceived therein, and how could I
have believed that which now I see; my heart indeed advertised me that our separation
would be fatal to me; but I foresaw not the mischief which was to arrive unto me; it
had not been so great, if it could have been foreseen. In fine, said this illustrious Princess,
I am come to that pass, as I can scarce fear new miseries: I am in fear for my friends, I am
in fear for my self, and I am in fear for Ibrahim. There is a design on my glory, and on the
life of the person that is dearest to me in the world: after this, let Fortune do what she will,
she cannot increase my misery more. The like was never seen in any age; the infortunace illustrious persons of Antiquity had at least this advantage, to be perswaded by the error wherein they lived, that their despair was without crime; and that they might with glory finish
their torments in finishing their hves: but for me, I am to attend this succor from the pleasure of Heaven, and from my grief alone; it is true indeed that I feel it so great, as it makes
me hope it will not be long.
Ah, Madam, said Emilia to her then, do not abandon me! and to oblige you thereunto,
remember that your death would be the cause of Ibrahim's. Let us not call him any more
so, said Isabella to her sighing, since that name hath been given him by our Enemies. Remember then, added Emilia, that Justiniano cannot live without you. But remember you, replyed the Princess, that Isabella cannot live without glory; and that it will be far more advantageous for her to be lamented by Justiniano, then to be exposed to the violence of a
Prince, who can be no longer moved, neither by my tears, by my prayers, nor by his own
interest. Saying thus, she perceived the Sultania Asteria coming in, who seeing her weep,
could not forbear weeping too, though she knew not certainly the cause of it; and not daring
to ask of her what she ailed, nor Isabella able to tell her, so much was she opprest with sorrow, they stood a pretty while without speaking; but at length, the Sultana rightly imagining that Soliman was the cause of this redoubling of grief, approached to the Princess, and taking her by the hand: I do not ask, said she unto her, what makes you to weep, but I ask of you, whether another bodies crime doth not set me at odds with you, and whether you can endure that the daughter of a Prince, who persecutes you, dare still assure you, that
she shares with you in all your sorrows. You may without doubt, replyed Isabella, and your
compassion is so much the more generous, by how much you are the less obliged thereunto;
it being certain that you have more ocasion to regard me as the object of your hatred then
Soliman hath to consider me as the object of his love; for if this Prince had not seen me, he
would not be unjust; his violences would not give you unquietness; and your Soul would
not endure the pain that it feels, in condemning the thoughts of a Father: but generous Sultana, shall we not finde a remedy for the curing of this deadly passion, and to set me in safety
against his violence? Soliman's interest ought to carry you unto it; and since Justiniano is
already indebted to you for his life, make him indebted to you also, if it be possible for my
glory, which doubless is dearer to him then his own; you have drawn him out of Irons,




draw me out of servitude; and by this noble action render your self worthy of immortal renown.
Asteria, not able to endure that Isabella should longer intreat a thing of her, which she desired as much as she, assured her that she was capable of undertaking any thing for her service; but that she was afraid all her endeavors for it would do her no good. Thereupon Emilia and she bent their minds to seek out some way, whereby they beleeved they might get out of the pain wherein they were; they propounded an hundred expedients, whereof the execution was impossible; and at last, after a vain search they concluded that no succor could come to them but from Heaven; and in this belief they abandoned
themselves all three to
grief; and said so many things, made such moan, and shed so many tears, that if Soliman
had been a Spectator at so sad a Conversation, he would peradventure have been moved to
repentance, but he was in far other thoughts. It was not because, to render him the more
unhappy, he had not still some instants, wherein a beam of light cleared his mind, and made
him see his fault; but love was ever stronger then all his other apprehensions. Isabella's resistance the fear of our illustrious Bassa's return, and the counsels of that Slave whom Roxelana had seduced, carried him to violence; and albeit he had sent an Order to Ibrahim a good
while before, whereby he forbad him, upon some pretext thst regarded the good of his Emire, from returning to Constantinople, until he had a new commandment from him; yet
not being assured whether he had received it or no, he was always in fear of his return; for
he felt not his Soul so powerfully setled on his crime, that he could resolve, if the grand Visier
returned before he could obtain Isabella's consent, to tell him that he would not restore her
to him. And for this reason it was, that he was in such fear he had not received the Order
which he had sent him; and truly, this apprehension was not ill grounded, for he that had
this secret Command was drowned in passing over the river Tigru, before he could get to Ibrahim; whose fortune had been as happy, as his dear Isabella's was deplorable. It was not
because the absence of a person whom he loved so passionately, was not extreamly sensible to
him, nor possest his heart with the greatest displeasure that a Lover can be capable of; but
the thought he had, that he was going to fight for the deliverance of Isabella, gave him strength
to support his grief; which became less violent, when as being arrived at the general Randezvouz, he understood of Ulama, who was come thither, and had commanded in his absence,
that all the Troops, which had been sent for the fortifying of the Army, were the bravest in
the world; and that by the intelligence which they had from the enemy, it seemed that he
had a design to decide the matter by the loss or gain of a battel; how it was advertised that
Tachmas was in person in the Camp; that Deliment was there too; and that by this means,
if the victory inclined to their side, they should be in an estate of vanquishing all their enemies
together. Howbeie that he had a request to make unto him on the behalf of the Princess Axiamira, whom he had left at Bitilisa; which was to spare the person of Tachmas, as much as
the confusion of the fight would permit him; and to promise her if the chance of War gave
him the advantage, not to make other use of it then the concluding of a peace between the
two Empires, and the re-entring of her into her Country without all future fear of Deliment's violences.
Ibrahim answered to this discourse with as much generosity, as Ulama had testified affection in making it to him: and after they had spent some time in talking of the order they
were to observe in this War, they took a resolution to make a review two days after of the
Army, by a general Muster thereof, to the end that afterwards they might march on couragiously against the Enemy. All the Commanders having received this Order, and having imparted it to their Soldiers, they thought of nothing else for those two days, but of appearing
as gallant as possibly they could; and those which could not be rich in Clothes, endeavored
at least to have their Arms neat and bright. At length the morning being come, wherein Ibrahim had resolved to make a review of his Troops, he went accompanied withUlama to
an indifferent great Plain; and being placed on a rising ground, they began to muster before
him. The first that appeared were composed of fourteen thousand Tarters, who by their
precipitate march gave hope, that they would not be the last at the fight when occasion served.
fifteen thousand Azapes went next commanded by a Sangiac; and after them as many
Spachis, who being past, made way for a like number of Croatians, which at last left six
thousand Janizaries to be seen, the gallantest and best armed in all this Empire. All the In-




fantry having past, the Cavalry followed after; twelve thousand Archers first appeared;
next to them ten thousand Accangis with Scymitars and Battel-axes; and last of all fifteen
thousand Timariots with Guns. In the end Ibrahim found, that his Foot being threescore
and five thousand, and his Horse thirty and seven thousand, his Army amounted to above an
hundred thousand fighting men. All these Troops being past, the Artillery appeared, consisting of above an hundred pieces of Ordnance, part of them for battery, and part for the field,
with the greatest train that almost hath been heard spoken of, were it for the abundance of
Powder, and Shot, or Waggans for the carriage of things necessary to furnish the
Camp.
This review being ended, and Ibrahim throughly contented with it, he no longer thought
of any thing but of hastening his victory or defeature: so that to advance it the sooner, after
he had encamped his Army, and learnt in what place the Enemy was, he resolved to write
unto the Sophy, to the end he might oblige him to the terminating of this War by a Battel.
And to colour the matter with the publique interest, though in this occasion it was effectively
for the interest of Isabella, he wrote to him in these terms.
IBRAHIM BASSA, By the Grace of Alla supream Secretary, and chief Visier of the most mighty and most invincible Monarch, Sultan Soliman, his Lievtenant General, and absolute Governor of the Affairs of his State, throughout the whole extent of his most flourishing and great Empire.TO TACHMAS SOPHY of Persia.THe Emperor, whom I serve, having done me the honor absolutely to refer unto
me the managing of the interests, which are between his Highmss and your
Majesty; and knowing that all great Princes ought never to make War, but to give
the more sure foundations to Peace; and that they ought to spare the blood of their
Subjects, and keep them from ruine, as much as possibly they may; I have beleeved,
that without doing ought against the service of the Sultan, or against the respect
which is due to persons of your quality, I may at the request of the Princess Axiamira, yield to the motion she hath made unto me, not to destroy your people with a
long War. And to this effect, if your Majesly pleaseth, we will shorten it with a
Battel, which may decide the matter, and render the victorious party Master of a
Country replenished with Subjects, and not of a Desart. But whereas it seems to me
that the choyce of Arms appertains to him that is challenged, even amongst equal
persons knowing what I owe to your Majesty, it is for you to make choyce of the day
of Battel and of the place of fighting; for so as it be equally advantageous, I shall
receive it with joy, since what soever shall happen in that day cannot be ignominious to me: For if I be vanquished, the glory of the Vanquisher will make me to be so without disgrace; and if the chance of War shall make me happy, nothing will equal my glory, but the courtesie which I shall have for your Highness, if Fortune doth furnish me with means for it. I shall expect then your Majesties pleasure thereupon,with the same respect, as I would have in all all other encounters, the interests of my Master preserved.IBRAHIM.After the grand Visier had finished this Letter, he sent for Ulama to shew it to him, who having approved of it, besought him withall, that he would permit him to send a Challenge
to Deliment, thereby to oblige him to a single Combat before the Battel, if it hapned that
Tachmas should resolve to accept of it. Ibrahim did what he could to divert him from this
design, perswading him in regard Deliment's birth was so unequal to his, that he should do
him too much honor. But Ulama's great heart, together with the desire of revenging the
Princess Axiamira, and pleasing of Felixana in punishing Deliment, would not suffer him
to be perswaded: So that having obtained that which he demanded, he went presently to
draw up his Challenge, which he wrote in these terms.
ULAMA's Challenge to DELIMENTOut of the fear I am in lest the day of Battel proving fatal unto you I shall not
be able to revenge the Princes Axiamira with mine own hand, I thus send to
offer you the Combat; and though there be some inequality between us, yet will I
appear at the place of Battel, without other advantage then that of having the right
on my side. And whereas valor is the only good quality which is in you, lose not the
occasion which now I present you with to testifie it.ULAMA.After this Challenge was finished, and that Ulama, to render the civility to Ibrahim which
he had used towards him, had shewed it unto him, he gave it to a Trumpet, who was to
conduct a Boluchbassi, unto whom Ibrahim had committed the Letter which he wrote to
the Sophy; and having dismissed them with order carefully to observe all that should be said
to them, and all that they should see, they parted instantly away, and the next day arrived at
the Enemies Camp. As soon as they were there, they were conducted to the Sophy's Tent,
whom they found invironed with the most part of the Commanders of his Army. After that
the Boluchbassi had made a low obeysance to the Sophy, and told him from whom he came,
he presented him with Ibrahim's Letter, which the Sophy read softly with some change of
countenance; Then lifting up his voyce after he had read it over, I am too much obliged to
Ibrahim, said he with both an obliging and generous smile, for the care he takes to preserve
my Subjects: Yes, yes, continued he, addressing his speech to the Boluchbassi, I will accept
of the Battel, or to say better, I will go and present it to him; and within this hour you shall
carry him the news of it.
When as the Sophy had given over speaking, the Trumpet advanced, and after a low obeysance also to him. Which of you, said he, turning himself to all them that were about Tachmas, is called Deliment? It is I, answered Deliment, severing himself from the rest: Why
then, replyed the Trumpet, I present you here with a Challenge from Ulama. Ulama,
cryed the Sophy then: Yes, my Lord, said Deliment; and if your Majesty will give me leave,
I will see that which he hath sent me. The Sophy having permitted him so to do, he opened
the Challenge, and read it aloud, but with so much choller when he came to the two last lines,
as he lost the respect which he owed to the Sophy with his insolency in threatening Ulama;
true indeed it is, that he knew well enough he should not offend him thereby; for regarding
Ulama as his Rival, all that he said against him could not but please him. At length the Boluchbassi and the Trumpet having been committed to the guard of those which had conducted
them to the Sophy's Tent, an hour after Tachmas and Deliment's Aniwer was brought unto
them; and having been conveyed out of the Camp they returned to Ibrahim, whom they
found alone in his Tent with Ulama, They delivered him the Letter whicn was directed
him, and to Ulama Deliment's Answer and when as they had declared all that they had
observed in the Enemies Camp, they withdrew, and Ibrahim having opened the Sophy's Letter,
saw that it was thus.
SCACH TACHMAS, Great King of Persia, Universal Caliph of the Sect of Aly;
Chief of the Caselbas; Monarch of Parthia,
Media, Assiria, and Armenia; the beloved
Son, and just Observer of the Laws of the Prophet Mahomet; Subduer of Rebels; Expugnator of all the Tyrants of the Orient; Prince
of the great City of Smarcand; the lawful Successor of great Ismael; the invincible Sophy;
the greatest and most redoubted Lord of all the
Seas and Lands ofthe Orient.To the generous IBRAHIM.THey which will fight never use long discourses; all that I can say to you for
answer is, that precisely within eight days I will attend you in the great Plain
of Nephates in the head of my Army ranged in Battel array; being absolutely resolved, for the lessening of your disgrace if you be vanquished, or for the augmenting
of your glory if I be, to fight in person in this Battel; and to be your Conqueror or
your Captive: if it prove to be the last, death shall soon set me at liberty; and if
the other shall happen, be assured that the esteem which I make of your vertue, of
your fidelity to your Master, and of your courage, shall make you receive more
marks of my clemency and courtesie, then I shall have rendred you of my valor in
surmounting you.TACHMAS.Ibrahim, having found a great deal of generosity in this Letter, and being exceeding joyful
to see that the War would not last long, obliged Ulama to read the Answer which Deliment
made him.
DELIMENT'S Answer to ULAMA'S Challenge.I Accept of the Combat with joy which you offer me; being glad that in the view
of two hundred thousand men the Princess Axiamira may learn by your defeat,
that he whom she terms her Enemy, and that will notwithstanding be always her
Lover, hath more courage then he whom she hath chosen for her Protector. For in
fine, I hope that right will not side so absolutely with a rebellious Subject, as to keep
the victory from being mine, and me from punishing with my arm at one insant,
both my particular enemy, and the enemy of the State.DELIMENT.This injurious reproach vexed not Ulama so much, as the hope of being able to punish De-liment gave him joy; so that Ibrahim and hebeing equally satisfied, thought of nothing more then preparting themselves for the Battel. Tachmas and Deliment on their parts, thought no less of it; and during these eight days, both the Armies were in impatience for the arrival of this Battel, which was to accumulate them with glory or confusion. And whereas the news
of this particular Combat was spread over all both Camps, a superstition crept in amongst the
Soldiers, which perswaded them that the event of this Combat would be a presage of that of
the Battel; so that each one on either side made vows for the advantage of his party; but above all the rest Tachmas earnestly wisht, that Deliment might be victorious over Ulama;
yet was it not so much for his conservation and his glory, although he loved him infinitely, as
for to have the satisfaction of seeing Ulama dye, whom he beheld in this occasion, not as a
revolted Subject, but as the Lover of Felixana, and his Rival; and it might be said, that he
had rather Deliment should vanquish him, on condition that he lost the Battel, then that he
should win it without the loss of Ulama: Out of this thought also was it that he permitted
the Combat to Deliment. At length the sixth day being come, both the two Armies marched
to the Plain of Niphates, and encamped in the sight of one another, to the end that reposing
themselves one whole day they might fight with the more courage. Never was there a goodlier or gallanter thing seen then these two Camps; nor Peace withall its abundance, what
publique feasts soever it hath caused, ever shewed more state, then War did at that time in
these two Armies.  For Soliman out of a particular grace was pleased that Ibrahim should
march with the same pomp in this voyage, as if he had been there in person; that the Officers
which are not accustomed to serve in it, but when he is there, should accompany him; that
those Ensigns, which are never displayed but in his presence, should be set up; that the Spachis, who fight not but before him, should be present there; and that the same pavillions,
which he himself used, should be his. And whereas the custom of the Turks and Persians is
to lodg all the Soldiers in Tents, and that ordinarily they are all very sumptuous, these two
Camps shewed the goodliest object that can fall under the eye of man. There was nothing
but Cloth of Gold and Tinsel in all Ibrahim's Pavillions, with Silver Cressents, Penons,
and Streamers on the top of them. The least Tents were painted on the out-side with
Arabesque foliage of Gold and Silver, intermixt with different colours; and those
of the very Slaves were of Cotton Cloth of lively colours, and woven Checquerwise.
Ibrahim in the evening, out of a warlike gallantry, sent to tell the Sophy that he was arrived,
and desired to receive his pleasure: whereunto Tachmas answered, that the next morning at
Sun-rising he should see him in the head of his Army. At last this so long expected day being
come, scarcely had the first beams of the Sun begun to gild the tops of those four high mountains which environ this Plain, but Ibrahim, as well as Tachmas, drawing his Army out of
their Trenches, put it into Battel array; and whereas he followed the order of the Turks in
the greatest part of exterior things, he ranged his Troops into the form of a Cressent, but with
this difference nevertheless, that contrary to the custom of their Generals of Armies, he would
be the foremost; and for that effect he placed himself between the right horn and the left, in
the head of a Battalian of six thousand Janizaries. He gave the Coramand of the left to the
Beglierbey of Amasia, and of the right to the Bassa Pialli. He caused part of his Ordnance
to be set in the midst; and to surprize the Enemy the more, the rest was placed between two
Battalions of Foot. He chose four thousand also from out of his Horse to ride up and down
about the Camp for the succoring of those that were in need. He placed his best Troops in
the head and body of the Battel, leaving the rear-ward to the conduct of the Sangiac of Morea. And whereas the Persians have more Horse then Foot, he so well disposed of his, that
on what side soever they were assaulted, his Squadrons might make head on all parts. Order
being given then every where, and Ibrahim having gone more then once from Battalion to
Battalion, and from rank to rank, to see that every one performed his duty, be began at length
to speak to his Troops much after this sort.
IBRAHIM'S Oration to his Soldiers.FEllow Soldiers, It is rather to follow the custom then for necessity that I come thus to
speak to you, seeing sufficiently by your faces that you are resolved to do well; and that you have not forgotten how these enemies, which we are going to fight withall, are the very same whom we have heretofore vanquished; so that without standing on vain discourses,remember onely, that all the design I have in this battel is to vanquish or to dye; that flying
is oftentimes more deadly then fighting; and that a noble death is to be preferred before an
ignominious life. Let in go then, Fellow-Soldiers, to seek out the Victory which is attending
to crown us. In fine, I demand but one thing of you, which is, that you will not lose the
sight of me, and to go onely so far as I will lead you.Ibrahim, having made an end of speaking, and his Soldiers having assured him that they
would follow him, by a joyful shout which they gave all together, alighted from his horse,
and went and put himself in the head of six thousand Janizaries, whom he had placed between the left horn and the right. And whereas this action made all them that saw it give a
great shout: You see, said he, Fellow-Soldiers, that I have no intent to abandon you, since I
deprive my self of the means to fly. After this he commanded to march on; and that great
body, composed of so many different parts, began to advance with so regular a motion, as it
might be said, that one spirit made it move.
In the mean time Tachmas, who knew the manner of the Turks fight, had ranged his Army in battal array much after the same sort, with this difference nevertheless, that whereas he
had more Horse then Foot, behinde the battalion which corresponded to that of the Janizaries,
in the head of whom Ibrahim had set himself, was a squadron of the most couragious
Nobility of all his Empire, in the midst of whom he was. And when as he saw that his Enemys Army moved, he caused his to set forward, so that these two great bodies advancing equally came within five hundred paces one of another; and by the manner of their marching, it had been a very difficult matter to discern to which side the victory would lead.
When as they were at this distance, Ulama, after he had obtained permission of Ibrahim
for it, severed himself from the Army, and went directly towards the Enemies with his
Scymitar in his hand; but scarcely was he advanced fifteen paces, when as Deliment, having
also severed himself from his party, came and encountred him in the same sort; and these two
brave Cavaliers joyned together just in the middle of the place of battel. The two Armies
made a stand to see this combat, which was beheld by both parts almost as an infallible presage of the victory to that side of them two which should carry it from the other. As soon
as Ulama and Deliment were met, they fell to fighting, either of them having too great a
heart for to stand reproaching and reviling one another. At first, Deliment fought like a desperate man, and Ulama like one, who without losing his judgment, or otherwise transported, made it nevertheless sufficiently appear by the manner of his carriage, that he was resolved
either to vanquish or to dye. Signs of fury were seen in the one, and proofs of an invincible
courage in the other; the first struck wtrh violence, and inconsiderately; and the last, exposing himself valiantly some times to his Enemies blows, assaulted him with judgment, and
warded with address: But at length after they had made an hundred passades to no purpose,
had tryed in vain to gain the crupper, and had been a long time without hurting one another;
Ulama seeming to be vext for staying so long from vanquishing or dying, redoubled his endevors, and pressing his Enemy more vively then before, he had at length the satisfaction to
see his blood first, with a blow of his Scymitar, which he layd at his shoulder but lighted on
his thigh. This first advantage more augmented Ulama's courage, and redoubled Deliment's
rage; for after that it was impossible to discern the blows they gave each another: Deliment
was in continual action, Ulama, no more then he, lost not a minutes time; and without eithers recoyling, or taking breath, they sought very neer an hour, and yet it could not be judged to which side the victory inclined. Ulama's Turbant was all in pieces, he had also received a wound on his left arm, his Scymitar was dyed with the blood of Deliment, whom he had
hurt in two places, when as in an instant flying violently at him, he discharged so great a blow
with his Scymitar on his neck, that falling from his horse, he extended him dead at his feet
This fall made all those of Ulama's party to shout for joy, but he without longer tarrying in
that place, galloped back to Ibrahim, and with as much tranquillity of spirit, as if he had
not fought at all, said to him smiling, that he came from rough-hewing the victory for him.
If I obtain it, replyed the illustrious Bassa, it will be less glorious to me, then that which
you have gotten, since you share it with none, whereas I shall owe the other, both to your
valor, and to that of an hundred thousand men that follow me.
After this, Ibrahim, having observed that Ulama was wounded on the left arm by the




blood which came out of it, would not have had him fought; but Ulama not consenting
thereunto, onely caused his arm to be bound up with a piece of linnen cloth of a Turbant;
and placing himself by Ibrahim, and all the Trumpets, Drums, and Attaballes having sounded a charge, they began to march with those great cries, which all the Oriental Nations make
at the beginning of battels; but yet with this difference, that Ibrahim's Soldiers seemed to
be almost assured of the victory, whereas the others on the contrary seemed to have no other
design in fighting, then to revenge the death of Deliment: It was not for that he was beloved, but because the Sophy shewed so much resentment for it, as it passed even into the
hearts of his men. In the end these two Armies being provoked, the one by the desire of
glory, and the other by that of revenge, they encountred together. And to give yet a further
courage to Ibrahim's forces, it happened that Tachmas, being arrived first in the field, had
seized on an high piece of ground, upon the which he had planted his Ordnance; but that
which he conceived would have been advantageous, proved unprofitable unto hrm; for
when as the two Armies caused their Cannon to play on either part, that of the Persians did
no hurt so the Turks, because all the shot passed over their heads in regard it was planted too
high. Ibrahim's Ordnance wrought another effect, and his first discharge lighting just in the
midst of that Squadron, where the Sophy was in person, cleared all the ranks, with the slaughter of a world of men. But when as the Sophy, who lost not his judgment in this occasion,
had commanded those behinde to take the place of them before, Ibrahim on his side, caused
two battalions, behinde the which were the rest of his Ordnance, to open, and the Soldiers
having accordingly divided themselves to the right hand and to the left, the remainder of his
Ordnance discharged all together through the voyd space that was between the ranks, and put
his Enemies into so strange a disorder,as the like was never heard of. And truly it was advantageous to the Persians, that the thickness of the smoke and dust, which enveloped these two
Armies, kept them from seeing the horridness of this execution, for otherwise peradventure
they would not have had so much heart to fight, as they testified afterwards.
At length, Tachmas having formed his battalions anew, for repairing of the disorder which
the great Ordnance had made, and Ibrahim's Soldiers having re-assumed their stations, these
two Armies came to cope with one another. Ibrahim, followed by Ulama, gave first into the battalion, behinde the which was that broken squadron, where the Sophy and Ismael
were in person. And it was there, where out of a prodigious valor he did things, which
would not finde belief with posterity, if they were written. He made way through all opposition, and not contented with carrying fear and terror wheresoever he went; with defending his own life, and giving death to his Enemies; but took care also for the conservation of his
own party. He saved the Bassa Sinan from being killed, by discharging a great blow with
his Scymitar upon him that was striking him: now though he performed the Soldier in this
encounter, yet left he not for all that to behave himself like the General of the Army, and to
have an eye to all things. Sometimes he sent to succor those that stood in need; sometimes
he went to them in person, and joyning both prudence and valor together, it might be said,
that never two several men exercised them so nobly, as Ibrahim in his person alone made
them to appear in this occasion. And the course that he held was such, in sending his directions to every part, as it might also be affirmed, that he was in all the fights that were in the
field, and that he might with reason be termed the soul of his Army. Ulama in like manner
worthily seconded his valor; and all the Janizaries, seeing in the head of them so couragious
a Chieftain, performed their parts so well in this encounter, that they pierced quite througn
this battalion, and so absolutely defeated it, as all that the squadron which was behinde it
could do, was to see the person of Tachmas out of danger.
But whil'st Ibrahim fought so prosperously, the Beglierbey of Amasia, who commanded the left wing, had not the like fortune; for finding himself opposed to the best Soldiers of
the Enemies Army, who were commanded by one Basingir, a man of great consideration
with the Persians, his battalion had been broken at the very first, and the Enemies intermingling amongst them, had killed part of them, and made the rest to fly, in beating them
even to the body of their battel. Ibrahim, having been advertised of this disorder, left Ulama
to prosecute the victory, which he was already well entred into, and mounting on a horse,
he went galloping, followed onely by an hundred Accangis, whom he drew from their body, towards the place where the greatest disorder was. When he arrived there, and saw his





men basely flying, and suffering themselves to be killed, scarcely making defence, he went directly to them with his Scymitar in his hand; but being loth to cover them with shame, in
letting them see that he perceived their cowardice: You mistake, said he, Fellow-Soldiers,
your valor transports you too much, the Enemy is not that way, turn about, and follow me.
This speech filled them with confusion, and this confusion having redoubled their courage they
rallyed themselves about him. But when as notwithstanding he saw that those words were
not sufficient to make them fight valiantly enough, he went to one of those who carryed the
Arms of the Empire, and taking the Ensign out of his hand, he threw it with all his force into the midst of ths Enemies, and turning about to his men; Come, Fellow-Soldiers, said he
unto them, We must dye, or recover it. This action gave new strength to the Turks; for
whereas amongst them the greatest disgrace that can arrive to their Troops, is to let the Enemies with whom they fight take the Arms of the Empire: the design of recovering this Ensign, which Ibrahim had thrown amongst the Enemies, infused the desire of glory, and fear
of infamy into their souls. At length the one side purposing to keep it, and the other to regain it, there began so fierce a fight betwixt them, as it was in this place where the greatest
slaughter was made. Wounds, in stead of weakening those which received them, seemed to
incense their fury. There were men seen covered all over with blood and hurts, who in falling down dead gave death unto others. They too who had aheady lost their lives, served still
to make others lose theirs; for divers encountering with this great number of bodies under
their feet, stumbled many times against their wills, and so gave their Enemies the opportunity
to run them through; and of all this infinite company of men that fought in this place, there
was not one which was not dyed, either with his own blood, or that of his Enemies. But at
last after a very long conflict, the very same hand which had thrown the Turks Ensign to the
Persians, wrung it out of the hand of Basingir, who had seized upon it, by depriving him
of his life; and he not onley recovered his own Standart, but he also gained that of the Enemies. This so noble and brave an action abated the courage of the Persians, and augmented
that of the Turks, so that after this, those which had fled in their turn pursued the very same
adversaries, who had routed them; and Ibrahim went beating them to the very place where
he had left Ulama; who on his side had almost made an end of vanquishing all that had made
resistance against him. Howbeit he remembred in this occasion that he was Tachmas subject, for having found Ismael inclosed by five or six Turks, who seeing that he would neither defend, nor render himself, would without doubt have killed him, he drew him out of
their hands, and reproaching them for standing in that sort upon the getting of so weak a
victory, having so many Enemies yet to fight withall, he gave him the opportunity to escape
to his own party.
In the mean time the Bassa Pialli, who commanded the left wing, was still bickering
with one, named Alamut, who commanded the Persians left wing; and they had fought
with so equal an advantage, as it could not be said to which side the victory leaned. But the
Grand Visier being her favorite in this battel, she followed him also in this occasion. His arrival made the face of things to change; the Persian Horse basely fell off, and a battalion of
Foot was wholy overthrown: the Accangis in this encouncer did wonders, the Timariots
likewise performed their duty, and albeit the Persian Cavalry is better then the Turks, yet
this day they proved the weaker.
The Sophy seeing his whole battel broken, a great part of his men dead, and fear in all the
rest, thought no longer but of making a retreat, and putting his person in safety, that he might
not fall into the power of his Enemies; and to facilitate the means thereof, he commanded six
thousand Horse, which were coasting the Army, to set upon Ibrahim's Reer-guard, who
had not yet fought; thinking thereby to make a diversion, and give him the means to retire
with some order, things being no longer in terms for him to hope that he could keep the
field. But this design succeeded no better then the rest; for these six thousand Horse having
encountred those, which Ibrahim had commanded to ride up and down about his Camp,
there fell out a particular fight betwixt them, wherein the Persians were also vanquished: So that Tachmas, missing of this hope too, thought no longer of retreating, but of flying. And whereas of all apprehensions fear is that which more speedily passeth from one heart to another amongst the Soldiers, the Sophy was no sooner seen to think of retiring, but his Troops were straightway possest with terror: The Enemy appeared more redoubtable to




them then before, and losing the hope of victory, they lost the will to fight.
Ibrahim in the mean while omitted no time; and perceiving by the Enemies countenance
that they were no longer carryed by the desire of vanquishing, but onely by that of saving
themselves, he redoubled his endevors, and causing all the Troops of his Army, which had
not yet fought, to fall on all together, he put that of the Enemies into so fearful a disorder, that it was no longer either fighting, retreating, or flying, but to say better it
was all the three together. For in one place, a battalion was seen to stand firm, and continue fighting; in another a Squadron that retired without breaking; but almost every
where the Horse and Foot were seen mingled Together; the Souldiers abandoning their
Colours, and throwing away their Arms; some yielding themselves to their Enemies;
others killing Horse-men, that they might have their Horses to fly away with the more speed
and safety; the Cannon left without defence; the baggage exposed to plunder; all the
Commanders without any power over their Soldiers; the most of them not knowing themselves what they would command; in the end, if the night had not arrived, I believe that
not one of the Persiana had been in an estate to fight, and that Tachmas would have fallen
into the power of Ibrahim; but darkness coming on stole him from his victory: For Tachmas, having rallyed all the Nobless about him that he had left, commanded four Thousand
Horse, and two Thousand Foot, to go and amuse the Enemy, whil'st he retired. And these
Troops were they alone, which shewed in the conclusion of this battel, that they merited
not their misfortune; for at length, by the resistance which they made, though it was not
long, they gave Tachmas opportunity to retire into Sultania.
In the mean time Ibrahim, to keep the victory from destroying his Army, after that he and
Ulama had pursued those which fled, as far as day-light would permit them to distinguish
between the Enemies and their own men, forbad his Soldiers from plundering the Persian
Camp, promising to give them the whole booty of it; and causing every one to repair to his
Colours, he passed the night in the place of battel; absolutely victorious, without being
wounded, or losing above two thousand men; where after the slaughter of twenty thousand Enemies, of taking their baggage, their Cannon, and their Colours, he might without fear, and in safety, have remained in the field of his triumph, without thinking of any thing but of enjoying his victory: Yet did not he so, for after he had commanded that Ulama should be
drest, who was slightly hurt, he went himself to place the Guards, to see if all things were
as they should be, and to visit such of the Commanders as were wounded. But in the end,
after he was returned to his dear Ulama, and had reflected a while on himself, he in his heart
offered his whole victory to Isabella, as believing it to be rather an effect of her vows, then
of his valor. And the thought which he had that this happy day might make him obtain her
liberty, was the onely pleasure that this famous victory gave him, and the recompence of all
his travels.
The End of the Third Book.
The Fourth Book.WHereas it is not enough to have vanquished, if one does not know how to use
the victory, the Illustrious Bassa knew too well how to make use of
the advantages of fortune, for to neglect his enemy after he had surmounted him.
He was not ignorant that the chance of war is inconstant; that Conquerors may
oftentimes be Slaves to those whom they have put in chains; and that the Crowns
which Victory hath set on the head of those whom she favours, are not so well setled, but that they may be plucked from thence. Out of so just a reasoning, Ibrahim
took as much care to have good order observed in his Army, as if that of Tachmas had been still in the field, and had not been defeated. He discamped then the
next day, and still advancing into the Enemies Countrey, without incountring any
obstacle, he carried terror over all the Persian Empire. For whereas the Sophies
Army had been utterly routed, they which had not followed him to Sultania, and
that had escaped killing in the battell, fled to the next adjoyning Provinces, and by
their report wrought that in the mindes of those that heard them, which the Arms
of Ibrahim had wrought in them, possessing their hearts with fear and terror. And
whereas it is naturall enough for a man to seek to excuse himself, they made the
Army of the Turks far greater than it was, for the justifying of their flight; they
commended the valour of Ibrahim to cover their own cowardice, and fighting for
him in this occasion, they induced many Towns to render themselves, who otherwise had at leastwise attended the Canon, and the fight of their Enemy. But
whereas the most part of the Palaces in this Empire are not much fortified, and
are commonly his that keeps the field, Ibrahim being become so absolutely Master
of it, as there was not an enemy appearing, he had no other imployment after the
battell of Niphates, than to receive the Deputies of Towns which came to bring
him the keyes thereof, and one would have said, considering in what manner things
past, that Ibrahim was rather a lawfull King, that rode in progress about his Kingdom to make himself known to his Subjects, than a Conqueror, which received the
submissions of the people whom he had subdued. In fine, the matter went in that
sort, as in two moneths space the Grand Visier restored unto Solimans obedience all
the places which he had formedy conquered, and that had revoked after Ulamaes
defeat, and during the time of his sickness. In the mean while he had sent to
Prince Mahamed and to Axiamira, to assure them that he did not conquer their
Countrey but only to oblige the Sophy to demand peace; and if it should be long
before he heard from him, he would send to propound it unto him, with such just
conditions, as he could not refuse it. Ulama likewise on his part had written to the
Princess and Felixana, who had not failed to testifie unto him by their Letters a
great deal of acknowledgement for the victory which he had obtained of Deliment.
Axiamira was nevertheless much disquieted, to understand by all them which came
from the Camp to Bitilisa, that since Tachmas entred into Sultania, there had been
no news of him: For albeit the Sophy had intreated her very ill, yet still he was
her Father, and the apprehensions of Nature were yet stronger in her heart, than
the remembrance of injuries was sensible unto her. This unquietness was not particular to her, and though it was after a different fashion, yet certain it is, that
the Grand Visier was troubled for that he could learn nothing of Tachmas; not
being able to imagine what design he should have in shutting himself up in Sultania, and never appearing since, nor giving any order for setting some forces on foot
again. One morning as he was talking with Ulama about it, and that neither of
them knew what to think of it, one came and told him,that one named Morath, Captain of a Galley of the Bassa of the Seas Fleet, desired to speak with him. Ibrahim, who knew the order which this Bassa had had to make some descent into Mingrelia, thereby to divert the enemies forces, believed that he came to give him an accompt thereof, and therefore commanded him to be brought in: Which was no



sooner done, but Morath, after he had saluted him with an high respect, told him, that having been acquainted by fame with the prosperous success of his Arms, and that he was in a condition to impose Laws on the vanquished, he was sent from the
Bassa of the Sea to beg a grace of him in favour of Arsalon. This name equally surprised both Ibrahim and Ulama; for the Grand Visier remembred very well that
this Arsalon was he who had taken Doria neer to Naples; that he was Father to Alibech, whom Osman the Bassa of the Seas son had maried; but he could not comprehend how they should meet together, and be made friends: Ulama knew too, by
report, that the Satrap Arsalon was become the famousest Pirate of all the Seas of
the Levant, so that both of them provoked by curiosity, pressed Morath to explain
himself more clearly. My Lord, said he to Ibrahim, before I tell you what Arsalon
desires, may you be pleased to let me relate unto you the sequele of an History
the beginning whereof you are acquainted with, to the end that by the knowledge
you shall have thereof, you may be the more easilier carried to grant the favour
which is desired of your generosity. Ibrahim having consented thereunto, caused
every one to go out of his Tent, except Ulama, and they two being set, Morath
spake in this sort.
The Sequele of the History of Osman and Alibech.I Make no doubt, my Lord, but if the generosity of Alibech mowed you at such
time, as by your goodness you got the Grand Signior to judge her cause to her
advantage, I make no doubt, I say, but that which I am going to impart unto you
will carry you to serve her. I will not stand to run over her first adventures, thereby to make you understand the rest, since I hold it impossible that you should not
still remember, that she is the daughter of Arsalon the Pirate, or to say better, of a
Satrap of Persia, whom ill fortune hath made a Pirate. And I do not think you
have forgot that this Pirate took Osman prisoner, who in a few dayes became desperately in love with the vertuous Alibech, and that she delivering him, saved herself
with him, upon condition that he should marry her when he came to Constantinople:
No more can you be ignorant, that the Bassa of the Sea would never have permitted his son to have kept his word with her, had not the Grand Signior by his
commandment, and by his liberality, forced him to receive this fair Maid, in whom
he found no other defect but poverty. Now since that, my Lord, I can assure you,
that Alibech hath not rendred her self unworthy ofthe grace you did her, nor
of that which yet she attends from your goodness. She hath lived with the Bassa of
the Sea in as much obedience to him, as if she had been his own daughter; and
with her submissions and respects hath in such sort acquired his affection, as he loves
not his son with more tenderness. As for Osman, there hath never been heard speak
of a more violent, or more durable love than his, and every day too he sees some
new grace in his dear Alibech; for whereas the beauty of her soul is far greater
than that of her face, she hath given him so many new marks of her vertue, of her
courage, of her love, and of her generosity, as he should be the ingratefullest of men,
if the affection which he bears her, could enter into comparison with any other.
This person then, being so staightly linked in good will to her Father-in-Law, and
to her husband, could not resolve to abandon them, at such time as the Bassa of
the Sea was constrained to imbark himself for to go and command the Fleet, which
was sent into Mingrelia. And although, out of the fear they were in lest she
should receive some incommoditie, they did all they could to keep her from it, yet was it impossible for them to prevail with her. No, no, said she to Osman, I cannot leave you; and seeing I could follow a father out of obedience, I can better follow a husband out of affection. I am already inured to the discommodities of the Sea, which no doubt will be sweeter to me, sharing them with you, than the rest would be agreeable unto me, if I should enjoy it without you. If you fight with advantage, added she, the joy which I shall have of your victory will redouble





yours; and if by misfortune you be vanquished, which Heaven forfend, my tears
shall fight for you, when you no longer can. In fine, said she further, tempests,
was slavery, yea and death it self, would be sweeter to me, than a long absence. Alibech having in this sort touched the heart of Osman and the Bassa of
the Sea being overcome by her intreaties, she imbarqued her self with her husband, who was Vice-Admirall under his Father. Their Navigation having
been prosperous enough, untill they came to Mingrelia, they thought of nothing
more than of choosing a place where they might make a descent, according to
the order they had for it: but a horrible tempest that arose, destroyed all their designs. It was so great, so long, and so extraordinary, that the whole Fleet was
dispersed; so that when it grew to be calm again, three Vessells were scarce found
together: Howbeit so great was our good fortune, as in four or five dayes the
whole Navy rejoyned, and albeit most of the ships had something or other broken, yet we rejoyced to see them all shattered as they were, after we had believed
they were lost. The two Vessells of Osman , and of the Bassa of the Sea, were only wanting of the Fleet; but at length that of Osman comming in, made us hope
that the Bassa would return in like manner. After he had been attended some
dayes with an impatience, which well domonstrated the love which Osman, and the
generosity which Alibech had for him; and after that many Vessells had been sent
out to cross up and down the Sea, for to try is they could meet with him, one
day as Osman was looking forth himself to see if he could descry any thing, he
discovered a Vessell: and though it was so far off as he could not discern of what
Nation she was, yet the extreme desire which he had that it might be his fathers,
perswaded him that it was he. In this belief he caused his dear Alibech to come
upon the deck to let her see that which all the rest of his Veslell saw as well as he;
they continued a pretty while in this sort, between hope and fear, but at length
this Vessell approaching by little and little, destroyed the first, and increased the
other; for Osman certainly knew that this Vessell was a Brigantine, and not that
of his father, whose fortune had been very different from his. The tempest having
severed him from his Fleet, aud the storm having mightily bruised his Vessell, he
had been so unhappy as to encounter with a Pirate; who having found him in
so deplorable an estate, had set upon him, or to say better, had taken him, he not
being able to make any resistance. The Bassa ofthe Sea after this misfortune,
was perswaded, that t obe the more gently used, and to get the sooner out of his
enemies hands, he was to tell who he was, to the end that offering a great ransom
he might be restored to his liberty; the rather, for that in this occasion the affairs
of the Empire being much concerned, he should have committed a crime, if he
had concealed his name for the saving of money. But that which he thought
would conduce most to the getting himself out of trouble, gave him the more;
for be pleased to know, that by an encounter altogether prodigious, he that had taken him was the Pirate Arsalon, father to the vertuous Alibech; who no sooner
understood that this prisoner was the Bassa of the Sea, but he appeared to be mightily incensed with anger. What, said he unto him, are you the father then of the
Traytor Osman or to say better, of the Ravisher of my daughter? and hath fortune, who hath alwayes persecuted me so cruelly, at last furnished me with means
to be revenged? Speak, said he unto him, but disguise not the truth, lest I be drawn
to make you tell it by force. The Bassa of the Sea surprised with this
discourse, and perceiving very well that this Pirate was Arsalon, thought
nevertheless, since he had said so much already, that the best would be not
to dissemble, and to indeavour by the assurance which he would give him
that Alibech was Osmans wife, and that he had alwayes used her as if she had
been his own daughter, to induce him to use him also with the more humanity. In
this relation, I acknowledge, sayd he unto him, that I am the Bassa of the Sea, that
I am the father of Osman, and the father of the ravisher of Alibech; but withall,
you are to acknowledge to me also, that I am the father of your daughter, seeing
she hath maried my sonne; and you are consequently to confess, that since love a-



lone hath been the cause of their fault, you ought to pardon them for it; if so be you have not lost the remembrance, that the very same passion made you in times
past forget all things. I have not lost the remembrance of it, replyed Arsalon, but I
remember the punishment too that was inflicted on me; and if I treat my daughter after the same manner, she will have no just occasion to complain. If you knew,
answered the Bassa of the sea, what the affection of Osman and Alibech were, it 
would touch your heart: It is so great, concluded he, that in the voyage, which
I have so unhappily undertaken, she would by no means abandon her husband. Arsalon hearing this discourse, made him explane it more particularly unto him;
and knew that his daughter was not very far from him: Whereat he testified
a great deal of joy, and beholding the Bassa with a smile full of bitterness; to shew
you, said he unto him, that I am generous, and that I will not confound the innocent with the guilty; I will not use you ill; nay I will not require sonne, though
as my slave I might do it; but I will only have that which appertains to me, that is to say, the ingratefull and unnaturall Alibech. I do vou a good office, sayd he
unto him, raising his voice; for since she could betray her father, and abandon
him, she would quit you no doubt, and betray you as well as me. The Bassa, surprised with this discourse and demand, stood awhile without answering thereunto; nevertheless, whereas he is generous, and that the vertue of Alibech hath
won his heart, he could by no means agree to what was required of him. No,
sayd he to Arsalon, I will never be ingratefull to your daughter; she restored my
sonne to his liberty, and I will lose mine to preserve her that which she enjoyes.
And then again, said he unto him, I am not master of her, she is Osmans, who
commanding the Navy in my absence, is in an estate to refuse her unto me, if I
should be so base as to demand her, which I will never do. We shall see, said Arsalon then to him, whether you will not change your mind; and after they had
disputed yet a while, he commanded him to be loaden with chains, and told him
once again, that he should never have his liberty, and that every day he would
make him try new torments, if he did not write to his sonne to oblige him to deliver Alibech into the hands of those whom he would send to him for that purpose; promising him, that she should be no sooner in his power, but he would restore him to his liberty. The Bassa in so cross a conjuncture, knew not what to
think, or what to resolve on. He knew by the report of his sonne, and of Alibech too, that Arsalon was firm in his resolutions, and of a severe and cruell inclination. He knew that his absence would prejudice the affairs of the Empire;
yea and he was perswaded, that his sonne, loving Alibech more than his life,
would never resolve to lose her for the saving of him; he felt a strange repugnancy in his heart too against the making of this request unto him; and not knowing what to do in so deplorable a case, he lamented his misfortune, accused Arsalons cruelty, and without framing any design, indured the sharpest grief that
any soul can be capable of. In the mean time Arsalon, fearing lest the Bassa of the
Seas Fleet should remove further from him, and that then he should not have Alibech so easily, pressed him to take his last resolution: but what threatnings soever he could use unto him, he could not possibly draw him to write to Osman to oblige him to give
Alibech for his ransom. Arsalon did all that he could to shake his resolution; he assured him of a perpetuall slavery; he made him see that his
death was indubitable; and perceiving at last that he no whit prevailed, he chose out one of the most understanding and resolutest men of his company, and giving him a Brigantine, he sent him towards a Cape, where he had learnt the Fleet
was reassembled; and having told him he would stay for him at a creek which was
not far from thence, he willed him to search so diligently, that he might find out
the Bassa of the Seas Navy; and having found it, that he should deliver to Osman
his sonne, who commanded in his absence, the message which he would impart
unto him; whereupon rowning him softly in the ear, he instructed him with his
intentions, and dispatched him instantly away. This man, who was a Persian by
Nation, exactly obeyed him, and was so fortunate, as he sayled directly to the




place where the Bassa of the Seas Fleet were all joyned together again. And it was,
my Lord, the very same vessell which Osman discovered at sea, which a far off
gave him so much hope, and which approaching so mightily redoubled his grief,
to see that it was a Brigantine, that the spight to be so deceived, made him resolve to fight with her: For which effect he commanded two of his vessels to attacque her; but the Persian who had no design to endanger himself to no purpose,
perceiving the intention of them that were making towards him, struck sayl, hung
out a flag of truce, and putting himself into the skiff, with three of his companions, to testifie the more confidence, he went in this sort to encounter those
which were advanced towards him. When he was so near them as he might be
heard, the Persian, to have audience the sooner, required to speak with Osman
from the Bassa of the Sea his father. This name made them all to shout for joy
that heard it; and the word passing strait from Vessell to Vessell, and from Gally
to Gally, there was a generall rejoycing over all the whole Fleet. In the
mean time Osman having been advertised of it, attended with as much joy as impatience, him, that brought him news of his father. And whereas he shared all his
bad, and all his hood haps with his dear wife, she was with him at such time as
the Persian was conducted unto him. The sight of this man made the vertuous Alibech change colour, for she presently knew him, as having seen him with her father, all the time that she lived at sea. This first motion was quickly seconded with
an extreme grief; for when as Osman, out of an impatience derived from his affection, had demanded of this man where his father was; My Lord, said he unto
him, with a great deal of boldness, he is in a place from whence you may easily
draw him, and to clear the matter unto you, know, that the chance of War, or
rather the equity of Heaven, hath made him fall into the power of the invincible
Arsalon. Alas, said Alibech, looking on Osman, what have I heard! and what a
destiny is ours like to be! What, said Osman, interrupting her, and all amazed,
is my father in the hands of Arsalon? Yes, my Lord, replyed the Persian, and it is
from him that I come to tell you, that you shall never see the Bassa your father
more, if you do not render him his daughter: This is the price he hath set for his
liberty, and it is that which you ought to pay him. I know that I speak boldly,
and that in some sort I endanger my self; but be-think you that you have a person in the power of Arsalon, which ought to keep you from entreating me ill. I
leave you to judge, generous Ibrahim, what this proposition effected in the minds
of Osman and Alibech, and what a combat that was, where one must resolve to abandon a father, or lose a wife; yea a wife, to whom Osman owed his life and liberty: which made up all his felicity; and which was both his wife and his mistris. Nature and Love could not be satisfied in this occasion: Osman could not be
acknowledging without being ingratefull; and finding cruelty in both the parties,
he knew not what resolution to take. Osman never reasoned at first for all that on
this adventure, but without sticking a whit at it, he told him that had spoken to
him, how he could not render his wife, neither could he abandon his father, but
he knew well enough how to destroy Arsulon. Ah, my Lord, cryed Alibech then,
who had done nothing as yet but weep, being scarce able to form a word; If the
Bassa of the sea is your father, Arsalon is mine; and you cannot hurt him without
wronging me. Osman being come again out of this first transport, and ravished
with Alibeches generosity, craved pardon of her: and this Persian returing to
speak, I know, my Lord, sayd he unto him, that this choice is hard to be made,
wherefore permit me to go back to my vessell, and let me within a day have your
answer; but consult with your reason, remember that Alibech is the daughter of
him that demands her, and that the Bassa of the Sea is the father of a man that stole
her away. If Osman had followed his first thoughts, he had caused this man to be
thrown into the Sea, but fearing left such violence should prejudice his father, he
chose rather to grant his demand. When he was gone away, and that without other witnesses than his dear Alibech he might let his grief break forth; Do no think, sayd he unto her, that I consult whether I should deliver you into the hands




of Arsalon; no, that is not my thought; but I am considering which way I may deliver my Father: For in fine, it is equally impossible for me to resolve to love him, and abandon you. I ow my life to both of you; I ow obedience to my Father, and love to Alibech: If my death could satisfie you both, I shoud dye no doubt with joy; but fortune that delights to pick me out of extraordinary miseries, will not let any thing be able to succour me. The more I consider the matter, the less remedy do I finde for it; which way soever I look upon it, I am still guilty, and still unhappy. I cannot break my fathers chains without giving them to you;
I cannot end his punishment, but in beginning yours; I cannot restore him his liberty, but in depriving you of it, nor can save his life, but in putting yours in jeopardy; and that is it which is absolutely impossible for me to do. But, added he,
if I conserve you, I load my father with irons; I my self fasten the shackles wherewith he is bound; I am the cause of his captivity, and it may be of his death; I am a parricide, and I stab a dagger into the heart of him that gave me life. See
generous Alibech, said he unto her, what the choice is which I can make in to cross
an adventure. My Lord, said she unto him, wholly dissolved into tears, you require a counsell of me which is very hard to be given; it is not because I fear the
rigor of my father so much, as I cannot resolve without pain to indure it to deliver yours; but, my Lord, it is because I cannot do it without abandoning you. Yet
I must, continued she; for whereas I am the daughter of Arsalon, it is for me
to receive the chastisement of her fault; and whereas I am in part the cause of his
captivity, it is for me also to deliver him; and it is for me also to dry up the tears
which you shed for him: Suffer me then to go and undo his chains, and wear his
irons. Ah! too generous Alibech, answered Osman, do not offer me a remedy
worse than the disease, and which I cannot accept of: My father is too generous
too, continued he, to indure it; and he would disavow me for his sonne if I were
capable of such a baseness. To have such thoughts would be a thing worthy of
his great heart, replyed Alibech, but it would also be a thing unworthy both of
you, and of me, if I could suffer you to be cruell to the Bassa your father, and that
he should lose his life by my means. No, Osman, it is that which I can never indure,
and since we cannot live happy together, let us at leastwise die innocent. Do what
you ought for your father; owing him your life, you ow him all things; sacrifise
your wife to deliver him, it is just, and she desires it. I must, added she, for the
love of you, deprive my self of you; and fear not that I will accuse you of want
of affection, whenas you shall consent thereunto; no, Osman, I should not be glad
that your love to me should stifle the motions of nature in you. Reason must be
stronger than all other things; and he that could abandon his father, might also in
some other occasion abandon his wife. Permit me to do what I ought, and leave
the rest to the conduct of fortune. That would not be just, answered Osman. What
will you do then, replyed Alibech? I do not know, answered he; onely I know
that the estate wherein my soul is, I can neither be wanting to my father, nor to
you; and yet being unable to save you both, I see that nothing but death can succour me. After this, Osman fell a musing, then suddenly comming to himself again, he seemed to take the resolution to go and seek out Arsalon for to fight with
him. But Alibech having apprehended his design. What, my Lord, said she unto
him, casting her self at his feet, could you command your men to shoot at a Vessell
where your father or mine might be killed, and it may be both of them? Could
that so generous heart of yours permit you to dip your hands in my blood or in
yours? Think well, my Lord, of that which you say; and know that I am capable
of taking away mine own life, rather than see you blemish your glory with so
strange an action; whereas then you would not be carried thereunto, but only to
save my life, whenas I should be deprived of it, you would deal in another manner. It is true, my Lord, that my father is cruell, and inhuman; but remember,
that when the Bassa your father would have banished us from his house, I left not
respecting him; have the same thought for Arsalon: Regard him rather as a
man whom misfortune hath bereft of reason, than as one that is wicked; and to



say all, consider him as my father. I do not refuse to deliver oyurs, but contrarily, I conjure you to permit me to do it, but have also the goodness to spare mine.
Heaven can witness, answered Osman,  after he had raised her up, whether I
have any intent to hurt Arsalon; no, Alibech, I will never do it; but in the disorder wherein my soul is, I say whatsoever my grief suggests unto me, without giving
my reason leasure to examine whether the thing be just, or whether it be not. In
fine, generous Ibrahim, after so long and so sad a conversation, Osman, not able either to deliver his father, or deprive himself of his wife, or fight with Arsalon,
resolved at least, and made Alibech resolve so too, to go with all his Fleet, and
set himself in the sight of that of Arsalon; for all the Pirates of the seas of the Levant
had a little before betaken themselves to him, and acknowledged him for their
Chieftain. It was nevertheless after he had promised Alibech, that he would not
fight with him; and that it should be only to endeavour to make him do that by
fear vvhich he could not make him do by reason. All the difficultie of the matter
was but to know precisely where he was; but this obstacle lasted not long: for Osman having sent for the Persian to come again to him, he talked to him with so
much address, that he learnt the place of his retreat; after which he told this man
in a gentle manner, for fear his father should be ill intreated, that before he answered directly to the proposition which had been made to him, he would willingly
have a Letter from his father, to the end that being sure he was living, he might deal
with the more certainty. The Persian finding some justice in Osmans demand, presently left him, with a promise to return him an answer of it within a few days;
but take heed, sayd he unto him, that you go not away, for fear lest Arsalon
should revenge himself on your father, if you should deceive him. So Osman having assured him that he vvould not stir; and this Persian having set sayl, he made
his whole Fleet to steer the same course; so that two dayes after, at the break of
day, the Pirate Arsalon, who could not oblige the Bassa to write to his sonne, saw
his whole Navy appear. At first his design was to fight with it, and to that effect, he caused also his Fleet to be made ready; but when as that of Osman approched, and that enlarging it self, he could distinstly count all the vessels, whereof
it was composed, he found it so great, and his so small in comparison of it, as seeing that it would have been temerity and folly in him, to hope for the Victory
with so unequall a number, he took another resolution: And after he had instructed the same Persian whom he had formerly imployed, with his intentions, he sent
him back to Osman; who seeing a vessell loose from Arsalons Fleet, and comming
towards him, hoped that it might be his design had succceded. Alibech was not of
this opinion; and fear so absolutely oppressed her soul, as there was no place left
for hope: And truly she had reason; for this man was no sooner brought before
Osman, but he made it appear by the confusion which he had in his countenance, that the message which he was to deliver was fatall. I come hither, my Lord, sayd he unto him, to tell you, that if you do not render Alibech, and do attempt to set
upon Arsalon, he will make your father be slain before your eyes; and to deprive
you too of the pleasure of revenge, if he happen to have the worst in the fight, he
will blow up himself, and so steal from your victory. This strange discourse surprised Osman and Alibech in such sort, as they stood a good while beholding one
another, and not able to speak, but their resentment suddenly breaking forth, they
sayd all that an extreme grief can make one think. It is no longer time to consult, said the generous Alibech, our love would be criminall if it could produce so
strange an effect. Suffer me, my dear Osman, suffer me to go and make tryall all alone of my fathers fury; for provided I can restore you yours, death will not be
altogether cruell to me. In vain you seek for other remedies to your miserie; and as things stand, I ow my self not only to him which hath given you life, but I ow my self also to Arsalon, to the end I may keep him from dipping his hands in innocent bloud. As for me, he may deal with me as he pleaseth; I am his daughter; I have abandoned him; I have robbed him of two slaves; and if he can complain of any one, it must doubtless be of me. Your accusing of your self in this sort, said Os-man then, is to put me in remembrance ofthe obligations wherin I stand engaged
to you; and it is to say to me also, Do not abandon me. Do not you abandon me,
answered she, but suffer me to abandon you. I cannot, replyed Osman. Bot could
you indeed, sayd Alibech to him, see a dagger in my fathers hand to stab the heart
of yours? For my part, continued she, I would rather dye. Let us die then, said
Osman to her; for I tell you once again, that it is as equally impossible for me to
resolve to lose my father, as to abandon you. In pursuance of this discourse, Alibech did yet what she could to obtain her husbands permission that she might go
to her father: She joyned tears to her prayers, and albeit that which she desired
would destroy her felicity, bereave her of her liberty, expose her to the fury of
her father, and deprive her of her husband, yet was she so generous, as to omit
nothing of whatsoever she thought was capable of perswading him not to refuse
her that she demanded. But seeing at last that she entreated in vain, and that Osman unable to resolve on anything, yet seemed to be resolved not to render her,
she purposed to make use of a kinsman of the Bassa of the sea, whom she had won
after the first time that Arsalons Messenger came thither: And that she might talk
with him at liberty, and without suspition, I see very well, sayd she to Osman,
that the tears which I shed to move your heart, do but harden it the more, and
that as long as you see me, you can resolve of nothing, wherefore suffer me to
withdraw my self, and remember, sayd she unto him, that the life of your father
is in question. After this, she retired into the Captains cabbin, whither having
sent for the Bassa of the Seas kinsman, who she knew was very much affected, and
greatly obliged to him, as holding his fortune of him;  When he was come, and
that she could speak to him without witnesses, she summoned him to the performance of the promise he had made her two dayes before, to do any thing for the
deliverance of the Bassa of the sea, when she should furnish him with means for it.
For rightly foreseeing that Osmanwould never resolve to remit her into the hands
of Arsalon, though he was very generous, and that he loved his father exceedingly, this courageous woman had forecast a way how to beguile him. After then
that she had asked of him, who was to serve her in her design, whether he was resolved for it or no? and that she had told him how all that she would have of him
was, that he would give her the opportunity the night following to go to Arsalon in the vessel which he commanded. This man, albeit very much obliged to
the Bassa of the Sea, was notwithstanding somewhat unwilling to consent thereunto. But Alibech adding art to her entreaties, undertook to perswade that to
him, which she did not beleeve her self. She told him that her father would let
himself be moved with her tears; that without doubt this generous action would
touch him; and that so without exposing her to any great danger, she should deliver the Bassa of the Sea. This man then suffering himself to be carried to what
she pleased, promised her not to go abroad his vessel till it was very late, and that the night was far spent, to the end that stealing away, he might get her into the skiff that was to carry him thither; which without doubt might be easily enough done, it being credible, that in the agitation wherein the mind of Osman was, he would not take much heed to things. The execution of this enterprise proved yet more facile than Alibech had imagined it, as you shall understand by and by. Osman, not knowing what to do in so cross an incounter, after that Alibech vvas withdravvn, fell into a deep muse, and began to cast in his mind what he might doe. He no sooner formed one thought, but it vvas destroyed by another; his imagination propounded nothing unto him vvhich his judgement could approve of; the motions of nature combated those of love; and without vanquishing one another, Osman was not surmounted by by his own grief. He saw in every thing cause of dispair, and whereas he had a noble and generous Soul, being unable to take any resolution which was not criminall, he remained alwaies irresolute. But at last, after he had a long time debated with himself; after that love and nature had made him think of all that they could inspire in a like incounter; after that he had sought for an hundred unprofitable meanes how



to deliver his father, without losing his wife; no, no, said he to himselfe, I cannot lose Alibech, but I must lose my self too. Let us resolve upon it then, and
make the Bassa our Father see, that we doe for him all that we can.  He hath given
me life, I am ready to render it to him again; and I cannot think that Heaven
would approve of the delivering of an innocent to the crueltie of Arsalon; neither
doe I think too, added he, but his revenge would be more satisfied with having me
in his hands, than with having Alibech. And albeit he hath not demanded me aswell as she, it was doubtless because he beleeved, that I would render him my wife,
rather than render him my self. But alas cryed he, how was he ill informed of my
thoughts! As for my Father, said he, I may not beleeve that he can complain of me,
siuce I indanger my self for the love of him. And as for Arsalon, he will in my
person find an object worthy of his wrath ; it is I that stole away his daughter from
him; it is I that was the cause of the flight of that generous Slave, from whom hee
expected so many things; in fine, I alone am culpable; and if there be any justice
in his cruelty, I alone too shall be punished. He shall deliver my Father, or at leastwise I shall wear yrons with him; and if rage carries him to take away my life,
I shall howsoever have the satisfaction to dye, without having abandoned, either
my Father, or my wife. I owe my life to my Father, and I shall render it to him
again, in losing it for his sake. I owe my liberty to the generous Alibech, and charing my self with the same chaines wnich are prepared for her, I shall have done for
her all that the unhappiness of my destiny permits me to do. Let us goe then, added
he, let us goe to Arsalon since it is as equally impossible for me, to abandon my Father, as to lose Alibech. This designe being strongly imprinted in his heart, hee
drew the Persian aside, and told him softly, that as soon as night was come hee
should have satisfaction of him, and assured him besides, that if he did not render
Alibech to him, he would at leastwise goe along with him in his vessell, and carry
his answer himself to Arsalon. This man, being able to doe nothing else, resolved to wait the time he had appointed; in the mean space Osman sent for one,
named Mahomet, a man of command, and one that you know hath courage and experience; and having told him that he was going the next night to try if hee
could deliver his father, by meanes of an intelligence which hee had with Arsalons
messenger, he willed him, if by misfortune his designe should not succeed, to command the fleet in his absence, and not to fail in taking speciall heed to Alibech,
and to send her back to Constantinople in a vessell; but not before hee had tarried
some dayes in the view of Arsalons fleet; and whatsoever should happen not to fight
with him. This man, who was prudent, would faine have been a little better cleared of Osmans designe; but whatsoever he could do, he could not oblige him unto it; and Osman making use of his absolute power, hee could doe no other
but obey. After this, Osman went to Alibech, but whereas both of them had
each their designe, although they had an hundred things to say to one another, out
of the opinion wherein they were, that they should never meet again, the desire
they had to execute their enterprise made them say little, fearing lest their conversation being too long, they should not beguile one another, as they purposed to do.
So that after Osman, to deceive Alibech, had told her that he had put off the sending away of the Persian till the next day, because hee would write to Arsalon to see
if he could perswade with him, he left her for to goe and make the visit about his
fleet in a barque, as he used to do every evening, for feare said he, of some surprise;
but indeed it was to goe and imbarque himself in the Persians Brigantine. Alibech
ravished with this favorable occasion, counselled him so to doe, and looking on him
as he was going out of the Cabin with her eyes full of teares, she encountred those of Osman, who beleeving that hee should never see her more, had turned about his face towards her, as it were to give her his last farwell. After it was night, and
that Osman was gone out of his vessell, he that was to serve Alibech came to her cabbin at such time as all her slaves were already asleep ; and by the favour of the darke
he got her into the skiff, that was to carry them to his vessell, as accordingly it did.
He was no sooner abord then, but he set sail; and his Pilot getting clear of the





other vessells as well as he could, steered directly to Arsalons Fleet. Osman, on his side, being gotten abord of the Persians Brigantine, had taken the same course; so that when the broad of day began to appear, and that Arsalon, wakened by his fury, and by the impatience hee was in for the return of him he had sent, and was

mounted on the deck, he saw two vessells appear, one on the right hand, & the other on the left, which was though they had had a purpose to advance equally, made with full sailes towards the place where he was. He knew at first his Brigantine, but for
the other, he could not apprehend who it was. Osman on the other part, was not
a little troubled to perceive, that the vessell vvhich he savv vvas one of his; hovvbe it he beleeved that his dear Alibech hearing of his departure, had sent some one
of the Commanders of his Fleet after him to retain him; buthe vvas much amazed,
whenas these vessells comming neer to one another, hee saw Alibech standing on
the deck. Whereupon he gave a great skreek, and litle lacked but through a transport for which he could give no reason he had not cast himself into the Sea to get
to her. How unhappy am I cryed he! I parted from my fleet to save Alibech, and my
departure alone delivers her into the hands ofher father; and so I came not without doubt but to be a spectator of her punishment. But if Osman was amazed, no less
was Alibech; for some of her vessell having known Osman, and having told it to her,
she was infinitely afflicted, & beleeved the same of Osman which he had beleeved of
her. In the mean time Arsalon, having sent to discover this vessell, was much surprised to understand, that Alibecb came in that, and not in his Brigantine; which still approaching aswell as the other, made him see Osman on the poop. Now albeit he could
not comprehend that which he saw, yet was he glad to see more in his hands than he
had hoped for; and causing the Bassa ofthe Sea, laden with chaines, to mount upon
the deck, Come said he unto him, give your yrons to this Slave that betrayed me,and
to this ingratefull daughter that abandoned me. The Bassa discerning his Son, was
extremely afflicted; and Osman seeing his Father in that estate, was sensibly touched
therewith. At length these two vessels being come up to Arsalons, and Alibech & Osman being brought before him, Behold, said he as they were approathing to him,
these worthy objects of my hatred & wrath, whom their treachery had drawn out of
my power, and whom fortune hath restored unto me. We are rather an object of your
pitty, answered Alibech, who was formost, & fallen on her knee when shee came neer
to Arsalon; but, continued she, I came not hither to moove you to compassion; I beleeve that your wrath is equitable, & your hatred just. And seeing I hold it impossible
to reenter into your favor, I come to break his chaines who hath been in stead of a
father to me, ever since I abandoned you; doe not think that Osman hath consented
to that which I doe, it is a pure effect of mine own will. Alas! cryed Osman then,
beholding the Bassa of the Sea, pardon me dear father, if I could not resolve to give
my wife for to save you; but to testifie unto you, that I doe whatsoever I can, I am
come hither to take your chaines upon me, and to obtain your liberty with the loss
of my life. Wherefore, said he to Arsalon, deliver my Father, and put the chaines
on me that he weares. I alone am faulty, and I alone am to be punished; for as for
Alibech, all her crime is nothing else but having compassion of others misfortunes.
Arsalon, seeing two persons so neer him, by whom he thought he had been much abused, could not contain his former fury, and commanded that the Bassa of the Sea
should be loosed, and his chaines divided betwixt Osman and Alibech: but the Bassa beeing touched with the generosity, both of Alibech and of Osman, would not
suffer himself to be set at liberty. I will not quit my yrons, said he to Arsalon to
charge my children with them; for I beleeve, since you have no more feeling of a
father for the vertuous Alibech, that I may be permitted to call her my daughter.
Could you remember the time said he to her, when I forbad you my house, and yet
could you resolve to give your liberty for a man who once treated you a a slave?
My Lord, answered she, it well appeares by what hath arrived this day, that you had reason to be unwilling I should be yours sons wife, since that fatall marriage is the cause of your unhappiness. But, said she, turning her self towards her father, if I dare put you in mind of that tendernesse which you have had for me, I humbly beseech




you, that without regarding either the generosity of the Bassa, or the prayers of
Osman, you will choose me alone for the object of your anger and revenge, and
will set them at liberty. What, said Osman unto her then, can you desire that we
should be separated? Yes, said she unto him, I can; for since we cannot live happy
together, it is best that you should injoy your liberty, and that I alone should be infortunate. Dispute not hereupon, ingrateful child as thou art, said Arsalon interrupting her, for if thou art mine by the law of nature, he who is also my slave, & my guilty slave, shal also be the companion of thy punishment. Alas! my Lord, said she unto
him, for I dare not call you father, of what crime can you accuse Osman? Would you
have had him refuse the liberty which I offered him? Do not justifie me, said Osman,
interrupting her, I alone am culpable; it was I that stole you away; it was I that
caused the Slave whom Arsalon loved so much to fly away; in fine, it was I  that
have done all these things: so that my father being innocent as well as you, I am
to demand justice for you both; render it unto them then in this occasion, said he
to Arsalon, and let me suffer all imaginable torments; for provided I may see these
two persons set at liberty, I shall dye willingly, and without grief. We will not
have it with the price of your blood, cried then both the Bassa of the Sea, and the
generous Alibech, and to save you we are even ready to shed ours. Why will you
not have me deliver my Father, said Osman to her then? For that answered Alibech, as I am the cause of his misfortune, it is just I should be so too of his liberty. But said she to Arsalou, consult no further hereupon, Osman loves me to that
height, as he will never yeeld but by violence. And fear not, my Lord, said she unto
him, to give him his liberty, you will punish him enough in punishing me; and
the irons which I shall wear, will be more heavy to him without doubt than to me.
Arsalon not able to forbear from being moved with so much generosity, and Alibech
having incountred his eyes, where she saw (as she thought) some marks of tenderness, continued her discourse, and redoubled her prayers. My Lord, said she unto him, I believe that I my self labour mine own ruin, and that consfessing my self
guilty, without seeking excuses for my crime, I render my self unworthy to obtain that which I desire of you: Wherefore, continued she, permit me for the
lessening of my fault to put you in remembrance of that blessed time, when as the
Pirate Arsalon was a Satrape of Persia; you know, my Lord, that my Mother abandoned her Parents to follow you, and that then you called that excess of love
and generosity in her, which now you term an horrible crime in me. It is true,
that I have followed Osman, but it was not as a slave, it was as my husband; and
let heaven be my witness, whether in abandoning you, I do not quit a part of my
self; and whether I have not ever since made vowes for your preservation. This
mighty Fleet which is ready to set upon me (said Arsalon to her, who yet did
not yeeld) is without doubt an effect ofyour prayers and affection. Alas! answered Alibech, if Osman would have fought with you, he would not have come and
put himself into your hands without Arms. Consider then, my Lord, is there be
any sense of pity resting in you, whether you can with justice resolve the destruction of a man, who seeing his father in captivity, hath notwithstanding had that
respect for you, as not to fight with you because you were mine; you see too that
he is not an unnaturall sonne, since he comes himself to offer you his liberty and
his life to deliver his father. I conjure you then by the memory of the onely person
of the world whom you have most dearly loved, and who gave me life, to surmount your resentment in this occasion; and to vanquish us in generosity; you
may do it my Lord, if you will, and a greater cannot be than to vanquish ones
self. If you regard us as your children, you will easily pardon us; and if you consider us as your enemies, we are so wretched, and so absolutdy depending on you,
that compassion will be of more power in your soul, than the desire of revenge, it
being most certain that a generous spirit cannot resolve to oppress the feeble. And
then again, my Lord, if you conlider it well, you cannot tell how to punish us, in
punishing us. If you retain the Bassa still a prisoner, you will do but that which he
demands, for he will not have his liberty, unless his sonne doth injoy it too. If you





load Osman with Irons, you satisfie the desire he hath to testifie to his father, that
he would do any thing for him; and if you lay them on me, they will be in stead
of a favour to me, being absolutely resolved to follow the fortune of these infortunate ones. What Arsalon! cried the Bassa of the sea then, shall not the generosity of this woman, which would move a Barbarian, move a father? What my
Lord! added Osman, cannot Alibechs tears obtain her and my fathers liberty?
at leastwise yet let the loss of my life oblige you unto it. During this discourse, and this noble dispute, where the prize of the victory was the loss of liberryArsalon had his mind filled with divers thoughts; the desire of revenge, and a will
to pardon, agitated his soul; but in the end, whereas reason and nature were both
of a side, he began to be moved. He could no longer behold his daughter, but
with tears in his eyes; and both Osmans and his fathers generosity possessing him
with confusion, whereas naturally he loved glory, and was not cruell, but out of
an habit and despair, he suddenly changed his thoughts, and embracing his daughter with tenderness, I am overcome, said he unto her, thy vertue is stronger than
my cruelty. This happy change begot shouts of joy, not only from the Bassa, not
onely from Alibech, not onely from Osman, but from all those of the vessell. In
the mean time Osman casting himself at the feet of Arsalon, My Lord, sayd
he unto him, load me with Irons, and joyn together all the torments which
ever have been invented, I shall give you thankes in enduring them. Arsalon hearing him speak thus, lifted him up very kindly, and unloosing
the Bassa of the Sea himself, I should not have done a grace to Alibech, sayd he
unto him, if I had not done it to you too, since your life is hers. In sequele hereof, my Lord, it is easie to imagine what these three persons and Arsalon said, who
certainly for his part shewed such marks of his repentance, and spake so many generous, and obliging things, as it was easie to perceive that he had not alwayes
been a Pirate. Now, my Lord, that I may not prolong this relation any further,
you shall understand, that Arsalon not only pardoned his daughter, promised an inviolable affection to the Bassa of the sea and his sonne, but also took the resolution to cease from being a Pirate: For which effect he obtained the Bassa of the
seas permission to dismiss all them that had ranged themselves under his obedience; who although they were sorry to lose so courageous a Chieftain, yet were
they comforted with the greatness of the booty which he left them; and embarquing himself in the same vessell which had brought Alibech thither, without reserving any part of the riches which he had gotten; You see, said he, smiling to
the Bassa of the sea and his sonne, how I render my self at discretion, and how I
confide in your generosity. After this, my Lord, they went to the Fleet, where was
so universall a rejoycing, as the like hath never been heard spoken of. In the
meanwhile, whereas a part of the Gallies and Vessels had been bruised with the
tempest, we made to land, that we might put them in a condition to follow the
first design. And it was there, generous Ibrahim, where we learned that your
Victory had no need of our succour. This good news being made known to
Arsalon, who had been acquainted by Alibech with the obligation wherein she was
engaged unto you, he desired the Bassa of the sea to obtain of you, that if any
treaty of peace were to be made between the Sultan and the Sophy, you would be
pleased to take the care of making his, and getting him the liberty to go
and end his dayes in his country, from whence love in times past had banished
him. I desire this grace of you then on the behalf of Arsalon, of the Bassa of the
sea, of Osman, and of the vertuous Alibech, who beseeches you that you will be
her protection yet a second time. Morath having given over speaking, left Ibrahim and Ulama so ravished with his relation, and the generosity of Alibech, as they
thought they should never have done praising her. Ibrahim promised Morath to
re-establish Arsalon; and having sent him back again the next day, because he asured them that he should find them stil abiding in the Port, where he had left them,
he commanded him to bring Arsalon to him with as much speed as possibly he
could, and to assure all those generous persons, that he should never be contented,



till their vertue were worthily acknowledged. And verily it might be sayd, that
Ibrahim knew what would happen; for scarcely was Morath a dayes journey from
the Camp, when as he was advertised that there were Deputies from Sultania that
desired to speak with him; he was told also that these deputies were all in mourning, and seemed to be extremely afflicted. This novelty surprised him, and whereas Ulama was not present at such time as this message was delivered unto him, he
sent for him in all hast, and when he was come to his Tent, and the Deputies
likewise, one amongst them, after he had begun his discourse with an Elogium of
Ibrahim, the better to prepare him not to refuse them that which they purposed to
crave of him, acquainted him with all that had past at Sultania, since the battell of
Niphates, wherewith Ulama and he were strangely surprised: And truly this relation was extraordinary enough, to beget no mean amazement. For it had fallen
out, that after that day which had proved so glorious to Ibrahim, and so fatall to
the Sophy, the death of Deliment, and the displeasure for having been vanquished,
possessed him with so much grief, as he fell sick at the very same instant, As for
the ambitious Perca, she rejoyced in her heart at the death of Deliment, as a thing
which she had long wished for; the sickness of Tachmas did not disquiet her, but
contrarily she beleeved, that the less able he should be to direct, the more power
she should have. As for the stupid Ismael, she did not regard him as any great obstacle to her design; she was notwithstanding very much vexed, when she understood of him, after the loss of the battell, that in the heat of the fight Ulama had
given him his life and his liberty, in drawing him out of the hands of a great
many souldiers, who would have either taken or killed him: For albeit she forbad him to publish this action, yet was he so filled with joy for his escape out of
that perill, as it was impossible for her to keep him from telling it to divers persons, though it was not out of any acknowledgement. Perca was not ignorant,
that Ulama had a number of secret friends, who watched but for an occasion to
declare themselves for his advantage. She knew likewise, that all which were of
Mahamedes and Axiamiraes party, sought but for a pretext to stir; so as she
feared that this action comming to be known, in the estate wherein things were,
use might be made of it for the making of some propositions to Tachmas, vvhith
might be prejudiciall unto her, in the design which she had to reign. But this infortunate Prince was not long in a condition to think of the affaires of
his Empire; for albeit his Physicians had imployed all their skill for the preservation of his life, yet could they not possibly save him; and the fourth day after
the loss of the battell, death stifled that passion in his heart, which had made him
do so much injustice. As soon as he had given up his last breath, Perca, without
amusing her self in unprofitable tears, took great care to conceal it, untill such
time as she was assured of the minds of the principall persons of Sultania; for as
for the men of command, so great a number were slain in the day of battell, as
there scarcely rested any considerable enough, strongly to oppose what she meant
to undertake. She caused the Courtcill then to be assembled in the name of the Sophy, where she and Ismael appeared in mourning; and whereas she had wit and
subtilty, after she had with feigned tears made the hearts of those that heard her
pliant, she acquainted them with the death of the Sophy, craved their assistance for
the direction of Ismael, and in conclusion shewed them a paper, which indeed she
had made Tachmas to sign, without knowing what he did, whereby he declared
that in case Ismael should prove incapable of reigning, his intent then was that
the Empire should devolve to Perca, not holding them for his lawfull successors,
which had cast themselves into the armes of his enemy. All these things exceedingly astonished those which heard them; the death of Tachmas afflicted them;
the order which he had left did not please; Ismaels Soveraignty was a thing they
could not resolve for; and that Perca seemed yet worse to them. They would
willingly have called home again Mahamed, Axiamira, and Ulama; but besides
that it was not a proposition to be made to Perca, they were not ignorant that the
exiled Princes were no longer in their own power, but in theirs that protected


them; and that consequently, they were not to go tumultuously and acquaint the
enemy with the death of Tachmas, for fear left he should make use of this advantage to ruin them; yea, and those persons too whom he had in his hands, and
which were so infinitely dear unto them. The most of them then resolved, with
out making any shew thereof, to defer the manifestation of their hatred to Perca
of their contempt of Ismael, and of their affection to Mahamed, Axiamira, and Vlama, untill such time as they had recovered new forces, to the end they might oppose
Perca, and to the end also that in making some propositions of peace, they might yet
be in a condition to defend themselves, if it were refused. Concealing then their true
meaning, after they had lamented the death of Tachmas, they acknowledged
Ismael for their lawfull Prince; saying nevertheless to Perca, that shee was to
assist him with her counsell, and that she should raign under the name of Ismael.
This Princess, who thought that the most faithfull might be corrupted, and that
particular interest was alwaies preferred before honor and glory, because such were
her true thoughts, beleeved, that if shee inriched all these which were in this counsell, she should absolutely gain them to her selfe, and oblige them to set the crown
on her head. To which effect, whenas the Assembly was ready to break up, shee
said further, that the Sophy her Father having given all his treasure unto her, by a
testament which he had made in her favor (as indeed it was true) she did not think
that she could better dispose of it, than in distribudng it amongst those, that were capable of aiding Ismael to sustain the Scepter which he was going to bear. After this,
she made them pass, though they were unwilling to it, into a great room, where
she had caused all the Sophyes riches, and treasure, to be laid; to the end that by the
light of so tempting an object, their hearts might be overcome with the desire of
making themselves masters of it. They proved notwithstanding more generous
than she imagined; for although they testified a great deal of acknowledgement
to her for her liberality, yet would they not accept of it. In the mean time they resolved to let no body go out of the Citty, which might acquaint the enemy with the
death of Tachmas; for being so powerfull as he was, it might give him a minde to
come and assault them in Sultania, which otherwise it may bee hee would not doe.
During all these things, every one had their designes; Perca thought of nothing but
of making Ismael to be hated; the friends of Mahamed, Axiamira, and Ulama, attended with impatience the troopes which were to come unto them from the remote Provinces, to the end they might doe that which they thought would bee
most requisite; Ismael sought how he might free himself from the care of affaires.
Things having continued some time in this sort, it hapned in the end that the same
facility, which she had so much liked in Ismaels disposition, gave her a great deal
of unquietness, for even in the like manner as she had made her self mistress of it,
so did others: he was no sooner out of his sight, but this Prince altered his mind
according to the humor of those that talked with him; and whereas every one was
enemy to Perca, as often as she returned to him, she found him changed; and thought
it was not difficult for her to bring him to her bow again, yet shee feared that at
some time or other use would be made of his name to undoe her. They, unto whom
Ismael had told that Ulama had saved his life, having reported it to others, all the
people came to know it, and began to murmure far more than before. And whereas in such like occasions a weak beginning hath many times great and long consequences; Perca going about to punish one of Ulamaes antient domesticall servants,
for something he had said against her, the people mutined in such sort, as they went and beseiged her in her Palace. The servants of Mahamed and Axiamira began then to discover their true intents, in not opposing as much as they might the fury
of his incensed people, who began to cry in the streets, let the cruell Perca dye, and
long live Mahamed and Axiamira. In the mean time Perca, finding her self in so
great a danger, would have made use of Ismael to reduce this multitude to their duty, by obliging him to take up armes and shew himself to the people. But Ismael who naturally was cowardly and fearefull, seeing the danger neer, little company about him, and hearing from his chamber where he was that horrible noyse



which alwaies accompanies sedition, answered her trembling, that for his part, hee
had rather yield the Crown to Mahamed, than to expose himself to the loss of his
life. Ah base coward, cryed this ambitious Pnncess, whosoever is capable of
yielding up a Crown, is not worthy to live! In the mean season, the first gates of
the Palace were forced, there wanted no more but breaking up the rest for to get in,
they which garded them having abandoned them. In this dreadfull estate, Perca
taking a dagger, which had been brought to Ismael out of a beleef that he would
have armed himself, and seeing that she could not avoyd falling into the power of
a people filled vvith fury, did yet what she could to get him to shew himself. Shee
joyned threatnings to intreaties, and perceiving at last that all which shee said was
in vain, & that in an instant she should no longer be mistress of her self, rage so seized
on her soul, as presenting the dagger unto him with an extreme transport; Chuse, said
she unto him, either to pierce my heart, or to doe what I would have you. And
when as Ismael had told her, that he would not doe either the one or the other, and
that she heard a great noyse, whereby she knew that the last door was broken open;
since thou knowest not, said she unto him, either how to reign, or how to obey, I
will keep thee at leastwise from dying a shamefull death; saying so shee stabbed
the dagger into Ismaels heart, who presently fell down dead, and without further
delay struck it into her ovvn bosom, and falling dovvn upon her brothers body, she
ceased to be ambitious in ceasing to live. These conspirators being entred into the
Palace, and having learned from some of the Princess vvomen the cause of Ismaels
death, and likevvise that of Perca, they redoubled their cryes, and testified asmuch
joy, as is all their enemies had been defeated. In the mean time the wisest and
the most considerable of Sultania had begun to oppose the people, although they
loved not Perca; but comming to understand the success of the business, they held
it not fit to incense them, but rather in so strange an accident to make use of their
zeal in favor of Mahamed and Axiamira. After then that they had let them know,
how there was no further need of taking up armes, since the object of their hate was
no longer in an estate to hurt them; after that for the calming of their fury, they
had removed the bodies of Ismael and Perca out of the way; and after that they had
promised speedily to settle a peace for them, and call home their exiled Princes, every one retyred to his own house: and the Councell being set, it was advised,
that it was no time any longer to defer the propounding of a peace; because if the newes of this strange accident should be spread over the Provinces, it might furnish them with a pretext to revolt, and work the utter subversion of this Empire;
and that in fine, it was better to yeeld something unto the enemy, than to put in
hazard the losing of all. After this, they chose the most understinding amongst
them to bee sent as Deputies to Ibrahim, with an absolute power to treat of all
things. The grand Visior, as I have said, having received them in the opresence
of Vlama, and they having acquainted him with this horrible adventure, he
that spake for all the rest, added further, that knowing his generosity they
came to propound a peace unto him, upon reasonable conditions; and to
demand Prince Mahamed, the Princess Axiamira, and Vlama of him, for 
the restoring of them  to the ranck which they ought to hold. That if so
be Soliman was their protector, hee was to testifie it in this occassion; that to
draw an unjust advantage from these illustrious persons being in his power,
would bee the violating of the Law of Nations, and naturall equity, since they
were there as those that fled to him for refuge, and not as prisoners; but to be contented with the glory of vanquishing, and restoring of those to the Sophies Throne, which might lawfully pretend unto it, was to do a brave and famous action; that there were more examples found of such as had conquered Empires, than of such as had rendred up Kingdoms; and that there were more which knew how to vanquish their Enemies, than surmount their own ambition. After that this man had said all that he believed was capable to advance the business which he propounded, Ibrahim answered him, that being thoroughly informed of all the Sultans intentions, and having power to resolve on any thing without receiving new di-



rections, he could assure them that they should have cause to commend him; that
his grief was, he could not keep Mahamed and Axiamira from receiving this peace
with tears, since they had so lamentable an occasion for it; but whereas this affair directly concerned them, they were to treat with them about it; that in the
mean time he held it requisite, that one of them should return to Sultania, to assure
the people that ere long they should see their lawfull Princes again; and that the
rest should go to Bitilisa, to do their duty to Mabamed and Axiamira; that to
comfort them for the grief which so dolefull an accident would bring them, Ulama should take the pains both to conduct them thither, and also to accompany the
Prince, Princess, and Felixana back when they returned. Ulama perceiving that
Ibrahim in turning himself towards him, seemed to demand his consent for that
which he had spoken, assured him that he was very ready to do it. And whereas
he was generous, I doubt not, said he, but the Prince and Axiamira will be sensibly touched with this loss, since I that am not obliged thereunto by so strict bonds,
and that have seen my self the object of the hatred and persecution of those whom
I bewail, cannot choose but be grieved at the accident which is befallen them.
After that Ulama had given sufficient proof of his generosity by his sorrow, and
that Ibrahim had commended him for so noble a resentment, he gave him commission to take care of the Deputies of Sultania till the next day, when he thought it
fit they should depart for to go and fetch Mahamed, which accordingly was executed. Ulama parted with those that were to accompany him, carrying Letters
from Ibrahim to the Princess; one ofthe Deputies went to Sultania, and the
Grand Visier remained with a joy that cannot be exprest; for whereas he was perswaded that the beginning of his felicity depended on the happy end of this war,
seeing the favourable means which fortune presented him with to terminate it
speedily and with glory, he could not render thanks enough to heaven for so advantagious a success. And whereas he knew that the people generally desired
peace, he was assured that the treaty of it would be agreeable to every body; not
knowing that Soliman had any other interest in this war, than that of the glory of
his Arms. In this thought it might be said, that never any Lover absent from his
Mistress was so happy as he, whilst he entertained himself with so sweet a hope.
In the mean time Ulama arrived at Bitilisa, presented the Deputies to Prince Mahamed and the Princess Axiamira, and delivering Ibrahim's letter to her, and acquainting them with the loss they had sustained, they being generous instantly forgot all the persecutions they had suffered, and no longer remembred ought but
that Tachmas was their father, Ismael was their brother, and Perca their sister; in
the thought whereof they were extremely afflicted with their loss. But at length,
Ulama having imparted to them the generous designs of Ibrahim, and how necessary their presence was to their people for their consolation against so many miseries as they had indured, they set forth on their way. As for Ulama, the sight of his
dear Felixana comforted him for the loss of his enemies, and the Princes and
Princesses sorrow was to both of them their greatest displeasure. In the end after
they had travelled with as much speed as the accommodation of Axiamira would
permit, they arrived at Ibrahims Camp; who understanding that they were at
hand went to receive them with three thousand of his own quarter; and to testifie the more respect unto them he appeared that day in mourning, and said so
many generous and obliging things unto them, as they were constrained to acknowledge, that if fortune had done him right, he should have been King of all the world. When as Ibrahim had conducted them to their Tents, which he had caused to be prepared for them with a great deal of magnificence, and had treated Mahamed, as being Sophy of Persia, he said unto him, that he was happy amidst his unhappiness, in beginning his reign with the end of the war, and in being able to make the first declaration, which he should publish to his people, be a Treaty of peace; but that he might not defer this pleasure to them, and this glory to himself, it behoved him to propound such a one as he would have. It is not for the vanquished, said Mahamed, to impose a Law on the vanquishers, but onely for




them to receive it. He that knowes to use a victory so well, said Axiamira interrupting him, as to speak in this sort to them which ow their lives and libertie to
him, ought alone to make it such as he pleaseth, since it is certain that he can doe
nothing that is unjust. After that these illustrious persons had rendred all the civilities to one another which their generosity obliged them unto, they fell to accord
upon the Articles of this peace, which were so advantageous for the two Empires,
and so glorious for Ibrahim, as the people and the souldiers, who will meddle with
judging of all things without knowledge, and out of interest, could finde nothing
to murmure at. This Treaty, having been signed by Axiamira, for the supplying of Mahameds defect, was also signed by Axiamira, by Ulama, by the Deputies
of Sultania, and by the chiefest of Ibrahims Army.  After this, Mahamed, who had
alwayes loved Axiamira exceedingly, desired her that she would share in his power, and having requested her that she would be his guide, she promised him, that
as she had never had a design to marry, so she would neither think of it, nor abandon him. And in this manner she satisfied that which she owed to her own inclination, that which Mahamed desired of her, and that which the memory of Prince
Gianger required of her generosity. Mahamed then asked of Ulama, whether he
would not injoy the felicity of his reign? And think not, said he unto him,
that succeeding to the Sophy, I will succeed to his passions; I shall be your Prince,
and your Friend, but I shall never be your Rivall. Ulama answered to this discourse
with a great deal of generosity; and whereas the love to ones Countrey is strong
enough in every mans soul; and whereas there was a very straght union between
all these illustrious persons; though Ulama was exceedingly obliged to the Sultan,
and that he loved Ibrahim as much as himself, yet he resolved to abandon his protector for to follow his lawfull Prince. Things being in this estate, Arsalon arrived luckily for himself, accompanied with Osman and Alibech; and whereas
Ibrahim was presently advertised thereof, he went and received them, and conducted them to Axiamiraes Tent, where Mahamed was: and after he had recounted
unto them the history of Arsalon, whereof the beginning was not unknown to
them; after he had commended the generosity of Osman and Alibech, and excused the violence of her father, he obtained this grace of the new Sophy, who ingaged his word to him to restore him to his former dignity. In the mean time the
Articles of the Peace had been published, both in the Army, and in Sultania, with
great signs of rejoycing on either side; and the hour of separation being come,
the Sophy said to Ibrahim, that owing his Life, his Liberty, and the Crown which
he was going to wear, unto him, he felt himself obliged to tell him, that he should
alwayes finde him ready to hazzard them for his service: In fine, said he unto him,
generous Ibrahim, I ow unto you not onely that which you have done for me, not
onely the good which my Empire receives from you, but also that which you have
done for the Princess Axiamira, for Felixana, and for Ulama. Judge after this, if
without being ingratefull I can be meanly acknowledging. And I profess unto
you, added he, in taking his last farewell of him, that the most sensible sorrow
which ever my blindness gave me, is that which I now feel, for that I cannot see my
Protector. Jbrahim going to answer him, was hindred from it by Axiamira;
Defend not your self, said she unto him, with an unjust modesty, and permit, that
now at parting, we may testifie unto you, how not finding means to oblige you,
we are not unworthy to be obliged, since we know how to prize your vertue, and
esteem of the rare qualities that are in you. And for my particular, added she,
I hold Soliman to be greater, more mighty, and more happy in having you for his
Subject, than in being Master of so great a number of Provinces, which make him
to be redoubted over all the earth. You so confound me, Madam, answered Ibrahim, with an high respect, as I cannot answer you; but know, said he, that into
what part of the world soever fortune carries me, you shall ever have of me a
faithfull and passionate servant. If one might be a Subject out of choice, you
would have too many, said he unto them, your vertue would make deserts of all



your Neighbours Kingdoms; and this conquest would be so much the more
glorious to you, for that it would not extend to any but to reasonable persons; for
that you would have none but illustrious subjects; and for that without arms
you would disarm all your Enemies. After many other civilities, Mahamed being mounted alone into a Chariot, and Axiamira into another with her dear Felixana, who in her particular had rendred thanks unto Ibrahim for all the happiness of her life; Ulama stayed yet a little while with him; and though they sayd little, yet left they not testifying the extreme affection which they bore to one another; since maugre the interests which were to separate them, they felt a world of grief. Arsalon in like manner thanked Ibrahim for the grace he had obtained
for him, and for that which he had formerly done to Alibech; who seeing her
father part could not forbear shedding of tears; Osman did the like; and the Grand
Visier having promised Arsalon to take care of them, and to protect them as much
as he could, this generous Pirate comforting his daughter, told her, that owing more
to her husband than to him, it was just that she should follow his fortune; and that
she had done enough in getting him the honour and liberty to go & die in his country, to make it appear she had quitted her self towards him for the life he had given
her. At last all these generous persons being separated, Osman and Alibech began their
journey, and Ibrahim having given them a Convoy to secure them from the outrage of disbanded Souldiers, which they should happen to meet with, thought of
nothing but of withdrawing his troups out of the enemyes country; to the end
that being upon the frontire, he might quit the Army, and go to carry the news
himself of his Victory, and of the Peace to Solimon. He discamped then the next
day with a great deal of order and diligence; howbeit he had the satisfaction
before his going out of Persia to understand, that Mahamed had been received into the throne of his Fathers with joy; that Ulama had maried Felixana; that Arsalon received to his dignity; and that after so many misfortunes those Illustrious persons were happy:  For Mahamed and Axiamira took care to advertise him of it, in sending him so magnificent a Present, as there was no King in
the world but it was worthy of. Axiamira wrote also to Soliman in the name of the Sophy and of her self, wherein with a great deal of address she found the
means to make the Illustrious Bassaes Elogium. In the mean time he advanced as
much as he could, and they were no sooner in Solimans Territories, but he committed the conduct of them to the Bassa Piali; and after he had sent one of his servants certain daies before hand to Pera, he took the same way, followed by some
of the Commanders: and wholly filled with hope, love, and joy, he arrived there
when as it was so late in the night, as the Port vvas shut, and the Guards set; so
that how impatient soever he was to see Isabella, he was constrained to attend till
the next morning, being unwilling for this time to make use of the privilege
which he had.
The Fifth Book.THe Illustrious Bassa having past the whole night without sleeping, so much
had the hope of seeing Isabella pleasingly entertained him, sent as soon as the
Sun appeared to know whether Soliman would be pleased that he should come wait
upon him, and render him an account of his voyage. The Sultan surprised with
a thing which he had not much apprehended, in regard he thought it not so
near, gave not his answer so speedily. He marvelled at the grand Visers return,
considering the order which he had sent him, not to come back before he heard
from him, what prosperous success soever he should happen to have; but in fine,
it being no longer time to reason on things past, and being constrained to answer
precisely to that which was demanded of him, his mind was in a great disorder.
The name of Ibrahim, vvho vvas so near, possessed him with some remorse of his
fault, but the thought then of losing the Princess, made him instantly repent him
of so good a motion, and wish never to see Ibrahim more, that he might still retain Isabella, whom he had not seen since that cruell instant, wherein out of his
fear of the Bassaes return he had joyned threatnings to entreaties, and given her
but only eight dayes time to resolve once for all, whereof six were already past
when as the Bassa came back to Constantinople; and he had been three moneths away without any news at all of him, so exactly had the resolution which he had
taken for it been executed. But in fine, how violent soever Solimans love was,
yet could he not resolve to see Ibrahim, and keep Isabella from him: For whereas he had alwaies a strong disposition in his heart to good, and some thoughts
of friendship for the Grand Visier, the shame of his crime, the small hope he had
of vanquishing Isabella, and the short time he had to resolve in, made him send
Ibrahim word that he might come presently; and that at his arrivall he should
find Isabella at his Palace, whither he was going to return her: This Prince certainly would never have yeelded to this, had he had any hope left of gaining the
Princesses heart; but since the day that he had last spoken with her, and that he
had taken great care to have her narrowly observed, he had learnt, that she was
in so great an affliction, as he was afraid the extremity of her grief would kill
her: So that considering he should commit a crime to no purpose, if he should
retain Jsabella, he was the more easily induced to let her go forth ofthe Seraglio.
In this thought he would not see her, but sent for the Sultana Asteria, vvho vvas
no sooner come to him, but he commanded her to go and tell Jsabella, that Ibrahim was returned, and that out of an excess of bounty he permitted her to go out
of the Seraglio; but that she should beware of acquainting the Grand Visier with
ought that he had said unto her, because an extreme mischief might thereby arrive both to him, and to her. Asteria went and executed her commission
with a great deal of pleasure; for albeit she loved Isabella very dearly, yet
the desire of her conservation was stronger in her soul, than her own content. The Princess received this news with so excessive a joy, as her heart
was not capable of resenting it sufficiently; Emilia likewise was infinitely glad
of it: At first Jsabella could not beleeve it; after she had beleeved it the gainsayd herself; and she was so accustomed to misfortune, as she could not think
so great a good hap was befallen her. In the mean time the Chariot, which
was to carry her to Jbrahims Palace, being come, she embraced the Sultana Asteria; promised her that Soliman should have no cause to complain of
her; gave her thanks for her goodness in protecting her; assured her that shee
would never lose the memory of it; and then she got into the Chariot
vvith Emilia, and went to Jbrahims Palace to meet with her friends to
whom shee gave a greater and a purer joy, than that which shee felt her self,
for as she was going into the Chariot, that Slave, whom Soliman had so often





imployed to her, came and told her from him, that in going out of the Seraglio
she did not goe out of his power, and that he would not fail to send to know her
resolution; that nevertheless he would to favor her give her yet eight dayes longer for it. For as if the Prince had undertaken to be his own enemy, and to punish
his own fault, he scarcely formed a designe but he straightway destroyed it; so that
he had no sooner let Isabella know that she should goe out of that Seraglio, but he
seemed to repent it, and sent that slave, Roxelanaes confident, with that message to
her: and she was no sooner gon, but his love, and the desire of seeing her augmented; nevertheless in regard the thing was done, and that Ibrahim was suddenly
to arrive, he changed not his order. In the mean time the grand Visier, having
made no doubt but that he should easily obtain the permission which he had desired of Soliman, caused a stately Galliot, which he knew was in the Arsenal at Pera, to be
launched into the water; and it was for this purpose that hee had sent one of his
servants certain dayes before, to the end he should give order secredy for the having of it in a readiness against he came. As soon then as he understood the Sultans
pleasure hee imbarqued himself, attended by all the Commanders which had accompanied him: and truely there was never a more magnificent or more agreeable
object seen than this Galliot, especially when Ibrahim was abord it. All that was
looked upon was painted and gilt; the whole Poop was hung with Persian Tapestry, whose ground was gold; it was covered all over with flaggs and streamers of
divers colours; all the slaves that rowed were fastned with silver chaines, and all
of them had garments of cloth of gold; twelve Trumpeters were on the Coursey
cloathed in velvet, whose ground was gold; all the Commanders apparell vvas
imbroidered vvith pearles and diamonds; and in the midst of this stately troup
stood Ibrahim alone, though he had six great cushions of cloth of gold at his feet;
He held in his hand a battoun of command, and was so superbly apparelled, as it
was easie to perceive that this petty triumph was an effect of peace, since riches and
abundance were every where seen, and very few marks of war. Ibrahim had that
day on a robe of cloth of silver, imbroidered with gold and diamonds, intermixed
with certain carnation silk twist, which added very much to the beauty of that habit; His turbant was covered all over with carnation and white plumes of feathers,
set up with jewels of diamonds of an inestimable value; His Scymitar, and the
golden chaines whereunto it was fastned, were answerable to the gorgeousness of his garment: now although silk , silver, gold, pearl, and diamonds richly
appeared there, yet might it be said with truth, that Ibrahim gave rather a new luster
to all those things, than that he recived any from them. His shape was goodly, well
made, and advantageous; his cariage free and noble; his face ovall; his eyes black,
and full of fire and sweetness; his mouth agreeable; his complexion neither too delicate, nor too gross, neither too pale, nor too red; but such as Mars is painted,
when as he is amorously represented unto us; His hayr was of chesnut color; and
his nose somwhat aquilin, yet so as it served to give him the better aspect; His physiognomy was promising and sprightfull; his soul was seen in his eyes, his courage
and his affabilitie appeared equally in them; and without having ought of the
beauty of a woman, he was the goodliest man that ever was beheld. In fine there
was seen in his whole person, a lofty ayr without pride, a gallanterie without affectation, a neglectfull handsomness, a freeness without artifice, a civility without
constraint, and somthing so great and so high therein, as one could not behold him
without judging him worthy to wear a crown. All these naturall graces had a new
lustre the day wherein Ibrahim entred into Constantinople, and the hope of seeing
Isabella had painted such a joy in his face, as gave him a certain extraordinary agreeableness. This petty triumph was not without spectators; for Ibrahims return
being known, whereas he was universally beloved, all the Grandees of the Port,
and all the people of Constantinople, repaired to the Haven, and by the shouts which
they gave as soon as the Galliot approached, they testisyed their zeal and affection
to him. Soliman, more provoked than by the agitation of his soul, and by an im-




patience without reason, than by the good will which he bore to Ibrahim, had
also placed himself upon a Terrace  with a Ballustrade of Jasper, vvhich
lookes to the Sea on that side; and when every one still continued their shouts
of joy, Must all these people, sayd hee to himself, reproach mee vvith my
fault; must the sight of Ibrahim cause more joy in them than in me? and must he
be more beloved of them than of me, who am obliged thereunto by so many reasons? Yes, said he, Love and Isabella will have it so, and I cannot hinder it. But at
length Ibrahims Galliot being come so near, as it permitted him to discern Soliman,
who was leaning on the Balustrade, he saluted him with a profound respect, and
being landed, all the people redoubled their shouts. The most considerable approached to salute him, and they that could not do so, did at the least what they
could to be seen of him. After that this multitude had sufficiently considered
him, whom they acknowledged for their Protector, Ibrahim, followed by all the
Grandees, and all the people, went to the Seraglio, where he entred alone; for
Soliman feeling the disorder of his soul, vvould not give him any but a private
audience. When as he was come into the Sultans chamber, Soliman could not
chuse but be somewhat glad, yet was he possessed with confusion at the very same
instant, and received not the Bassa with that freeness, wherewith he was wont to
testifie the affection which he bore him. Before time, he would rather have spoken
to him of the grief his absence had been the cause of to him; of the fear he was in
for him; of the health of Isabella; and of the joy he had for his return; than
of affairs of State: but in this encounter, he would needs have him at the very
first render him an accompt of the War; and although he had resolved to give Ibrahim no marks of the disorder of his soul, yet could he not forbear it. In the
midst of his relation he asked of him, whether he had not received a new order
which he had sent him? And when as Ibrahim had assured him that he had not,
he seemed to be vexed at it, without telling him what it was: And at such time
as the Grand Visier had informed him, how advantageous the peace which he had
made in Persia was for him, he could not chuse but tell him things, which might
make him judge, that he would have been glad he had not terminated the War as
yet. Howbeit Ibrahim suspected nothing else of it, but that during his absence
Roxlana and Rustan had perswaded him from making a Peace so soon.This thought
gave him some unquietness, nevertheless it presently diminished; for Soliman perceiving what he had done, disguised his mind a little better; and out of a sense of
jealousie, he began to caress Ibrahim more, to the end that retaining him the longer
with him, he should not go so soon to see Isabella; it being certain that out of an
excess of passion, Soliman looked no more on the Bassa after his return, but with that
unquietness, which the sight of a favoured Rivall gives. But at length Ibrahim, who
did not penetrate into the truth of things, seeing that the Sultan still retained him, and that he had no sooner answered to one question, but straightway he asked him another; My Lord, sayd he unto him (with the same freedom wherewith he was used to talk to him) wil thy highness be pleased to permit me, now that I have
given an account of my voyage to my Master, that I may go and do my duty to my
Mistress. Soliman blusht at this discourse, and desiring to conceal his confusion from
the Bassa, he dismissed him sooner than otherwise he would have done; and remained in so extraordinary an unquietness, as he thought twenty times to call back Ibrahim, to send and seise upon Isabella, to secure himself of the one, to cause the other to be brought into the Seraglio again, and in the end to proceed to the last
violence. A little beam of light, and a great deal of confusion, kept him nevertheless from executing his bad designs; and his soul was never so resolved for evill, as that he could do it without repugnancy. In the mean time Ibrahim went
to his Palace, where he was expected with a great deal of impatience; but he
was exceedingly surprised, when as he found, Doria, Horatio, Alphonso, and the
French Marquis waiting for him in the Fore-Court. At first he doubted of the
report of his eyes, yea and was a good while hearing his friends talk, before he



could absolutely beleeve that which he saw to be true. He embraced them all with
as much transport of joy, as he had affection for them; for all those that had
followed him, had out of respect and by his commandment left him at the first entrance into his Palace. But above all the rest he could not chuse but behold Doria
with amazement, and ask of him whether it were true indeed that it was he?
As they were standing there, Ibrahim chancing to cast up his eyes was yet more amazed, when as he espyed on the foot-pace of the Ballustrade that divided his
Court, Isabella comming towards him, accompanied with Sophronia, Hipolita,
Emilia, and Leonida. What inchantment, cryed he in advancing towards Isabella, makes me see so many wonders together? am I at Constantinople, or at Genoua?
and may I beleeve what I see? You are still in a place, sayd Isabella, where you
have been extremely wished for, and where vows have been made for your return.
You see,. Madam, said he unto her, in kissing her hand which she had given him,
that they have not been in vain, since I can assure you, that my voyage hath been
prosperous, and that I am still absolutely yours. After this, Ibrahim saluted these
four beautifull companions of the infortunate Isabella, who each of them in their
particular made him a complement; and then Ibrahim having lent the Princess
his hand, this fair troop entred into the Palace, and went to Isabellaes chamber.
It was there where these illustrious friends testified the true thoughts which they
had for one another; Ibrahim nevertheless marvelled to see fewer marks of joy
in Isabellaes face, than in that of all the rest, which had not so much interest in
his person: Notwithstanding whereas he saw that her complexion was a little
pale, he believed that it was an effect of some sickness which she had had; and in
this thought he went on in entertaining his friends with liberty enough of spirit.
He understood confusedly, and in few words, that which had brought them to
Constantinople, but not without grief was he acquainted with the Count of Lavagnaes and Leonoraes deplorable death. You see, said Isabella to him then sighing, that there is never any joy so pure for us, but it is mixed with some bitterness. She said this in such a fashion, as gave him cause to think that Isabella had some
thing which was  displeasing in her minde; so that he resolved as soon
as in civility he could speak to her without being heard, not to lose
the occasion for it, which instantly presented it self. For all those persons were too intelligent, and knew too well how to love, to be ignorant,
that after a long absence it would have been some inhumanity to keep two
hearts that loved one another so perfectly, from communicating their thoughts
in private; so that presently after they were risen from meat, some went into
the Cabinet, some into the Gallery, and Æmilia alone remained in a corner of
the chamber with the French Marquis. In the mean time Isabella was not without unquietness, the remembrance of what Soliman had said to her possessed all
her soul, and the incertainty wherein she was, whether she should impart it to
Jbrahim, or whether she should not speak to him of it, put her minde upon the
wrack. What shall I doe, said she to her self, in so cross an incounter? If I conceal the truth of that which hath befallen me from him, I trespass against our affection, and it may be put his life and my honor in jeopardy: But if I tell it to him,
continued she, and he cannot forbear testifying somewhat of it, when as the Sultan hath injoyned me not to speak of it, we are undone, and nothing can save us.
If I stay too, added she, till Soliman sends to me for the answer, which he will have
me give him within eight days, what shall I doe then? and what shall I say to
Jbrahim? And is I come to the point to be constrained to acquaint him with his
unhappiness and mine, what may he think of my silence? and what lawfull excuse
can I make to him for it? But if it should happen too, that Soliman hath repented
him, and that he sent not the slave to me, but onely to try my discretion, I should
be guilty of all the mischiefs that might follow thereupon, if by my imprudence
and by my inconsideration I should go and acquaint Jbrahim with a thing which certainly he could never conceal. In this uncertainty was the Princess, when as


Jbrahim remained alone with her; and whereas this thought made her extremely
musing: May I, said he unto her, Madam, without losing the respect which I owe
unto you, complain to you of your self, in reproaching you for that you have
not as much joy for my return, as you had grief for my departure? If this be a
crime, said the Princess, it is true that I am guilty of it; yet can I assure you, added she, that it is not occasioned by any defect of affection, but by an habit which I
have gotten of melancholy, I am afflicted more easily than I am comforted; I am
more sensible of grief, than of joy; and in the estate wherein I finde my self,
there needs more things by far to content me, than there needs to render me infinitely unhappy. It is not, continued she, because your return doth not give me all
the joy that I am capable of, and even to that height, as without this remedy I am
perswaded I should not have lived long; but in conclusion we are at Constantinople,
and that is no little evill. Jbrahim hearing Isabella speak in this sort, and observing
her eyes and her face, he confirmed himself yet more in the opinion which he had;
so that to be the better cleared therein, I confess, said he unto her, that we are alwayes neerer to bad fortune, than to good; but you must confess unto me withall,
that untill such time as Soliman hath refused us the liberty which I am to ask of
him, you have not so much cause to be melancholick, as you had when I parted
for Persia. The event of the war was doubtfull; it might have been long; I might
have been beaten; I might have dyed there; and since none of these hath hapned,
and that I may justly demand my liberty for a recompence, why do I, Madam, see
more signs of grief in your minde, than when we had all to fear, and nothing to
hope for? The Princess not answering precisely to Jbrahim, began to make him
partake her unquietness. He believed then that he was more unhappy than he
thought he was; and suddenly calling to minde the change which he had noted in
Solimans face, he no longer doubted but that there was something which Isabella
did not tell him. What accident, said he unto her, Madam, is befallen us? Hath
fortune invented some new torment to persecute us withall? Speak I earnestly
beseech you, and whatsoever it may be, be pleased to let me know it. Jsabella
would then have put him off, with assuring him that she had no new matter to acquaint him with; but the more she stood off, the more unquietness she gave him:
Wherefore he began to cast in his minde what the mischief might be, which would
not be told him; Hath any one, said he unto her, wronged you during my absence?
hath any body conspired against your life? hath the hate which Roxelana bears me,
carried her to seek the means to hurt you? would she have sacrifised you to her
revenge, as she hath sacrifised Prince Mustapha to her rage? would they have forced you to change your Religion? hath Rustan plotted any thing against me? and
(that which would be my last misery, and which I think cannot possibly be) is Soliman become my Rivall, or mine Enemy? The Princess thereupon not able to retain
her tears, put her hand before her eyes to conceal them from Ibrahim. Ah! Madam, said he unto her then, gently pulling down her arm, do you answer me with
tears? can it be possible, that this Prince should hate me, or love you too much?
leave me not long in pain, and I beseech you, Madam, express your self more clearly. I would I could draw you out of it, answered the Princess still weeping, but
since I cannot conceal that from you, which I have been commanded not to let vou
know, and that my tears have betrayed me, believe what they have told you, for it is
but too true, and save me the labor of usingany longer discourse to you on so strange
a subject. What, cryed out Jbrahim then, wholly transported with grief, doth Soliman love you! He hath told me so, replyed she, and in such a manner,
as makes me look upon death as the onely remedy that is left us to avoid his fury. After this, Jbrahim having in an instant exactly run over all that
the Grand Signior had said to him, no longer doubted of his unhappiness, and in
this certainty he said all that a just resentment could make one say in a like adventure. What, cryed he out, this Prince, who is so great, so generous; who hath loved me so tenderly; and who hath seen me ready to dye, because I was absent from the in-



comparable Isabella, will he ravish her from me for ever; and stab a dagger into
the heart of a man, that hath hazarded his life for his glory, and that had committed this illustrious person to his protection! after this, said hee to Isabella, I will
no longer trust my self; I beleeve, Madam, that I can betray you; I beleeve that I
can abandon you; and that I can be your enemy; since the greatest Prince of the
earth hath been capable of violating the law of Nations, as well as natural equity;
of betraying the friendship which he had promised me; of forgetting the services
which I have done for him; of despising vertue; of not harkning to reason; and
of blemishing his own glory with an unjust passion. But, Madam, added hee, I am
too blame my self, and I am the cause of your misery: for why should not I fear
any thing from a Prince, who had dipt his hands in the blood of his son for an unjust love? he that had been capable of so cruell a thought, might easily forget the
respect which he owed to your vertue; & I am not excusable for abandoning you. It
is no time to speak of that which is past, said the Pnncess unto him, but to think of
that which is to come. Ibrahim was not for all that in an estate to give counsaile,
for his minde was filled with so many severall thoughts, as hee scarcely understood
what Isabella said unto him. He was possessed with grief, anger, and repentance;
hatred and jelousie had also some place in his soul; nevertheless in the midst of his
transports, and although the interest Isabella prevailed over all others, yet had
he loved Soliman so much, that there were some instants, wherein without considering Isabella, and without considering himself, he was afflicted for that this Prince
had given this blemish to his life. But when as he surprised himself in this thought,
he repented of it, as of a crime, and reentred into his former fury. At length after
that Isabella and he had said all that their grief and affection could suggest, and that
the Princess had related to Ibrahim all that she beleeved was necessary hee should
know, the better to advise on that which they had to doe, they found that their reason was too much troubled, and they themselves too much interessed in the business in question, for to judge soundly thereof. They resolved then to call unto
this counsell, both their he and she friends; to the end that all of them together
might seek out the meanes to avoyd the mischief that menaced them. Isabella for
that effect willed Emilia to call them, and the French Marquis taking this imployment upon him, brought this fair troup a little after into the Princess chamber,
who with teares in her eyes craved pardon of her deer friends, for having made a
secret to them of a thing, which she would fain have concealed from herself; and
then, having recounted the estate wherein shee was with Soliman, she filled their
hearts with grief, both for the interest which they had in her fortune, and for their
own; knowing very well that their liberty depended on Ibrahim and Isabella, who
being at odds themselves with Soliman, were not like to obtain that for others, which
they could not obtain for themselves. This misery then being common, they all
fell to think of what might be done. Some would have Ibrahim, without testifying any knowledge of this unjust love, pursue his first designe, and demand his
liberty of Soliman, because, said they, it may be that this Prince being ashamed of
his fault, and incensed with Isabellas constancie, will grant him his request, and resolve to deprive himself of the sight of a man whom he can no longer look upon
but with confusion, and of a person, whom it is impossible for him to conquer. But
Ibrahim opposed this opinion; for whereas he knew Soliman full well, he was sure
that love being once entred into his heart, would never goe out of it again but with
violence; and that he could not be capable of repenting, but when as the crimes
which love made him commit, were far greater than his passion. Then it was propounded, that no resoludon should be taken, till the eight dayes which Soliman
had given Isabella to make her answer in, were expired; because the sight Ibrahim it might be had revived the friendship which he bore him, and had banished, or
dimished the love which he carried to her. But if Ibrahim was opposite to the first
advice that was given, the Princess said that she would never consent to this second:
for in conclusion, said she, after that which Soliman hath spoken to me, there are



but two remidies to be chosen, either death or flight. The last is the best, replyed
the Marquis, and if I may be beleeved, it shall be the only thing we will think of.
This advise having been found the surest and the easiest, there was nothing more
thought of, than of seeking out the meanes to execute it. It was not because Ibrahim did not upon the first apprehension of it follow this opinion with repugnancy,
but because he was perswaded, that a Prince, who committed so great an infidelity
against him, could not complain of him with reason for his going out of his Empire
without his consent. In this thought he considered with the rest, which way they
might draw themselves out of captivity; in the end the resolution was, that Ibrahim, being able to doe what he would, should secretly assure himself of a vessell;
and that untill it was ready to part, he should see Soliman as often as possible hee
could, and take great care to keep him from suspecting that Isabella had spoken to
him of his love to her. The rest of the day being spent in this sort, the next morning the Grand Visier having understood that there was a Christian Vessell which
was to set sail the day ensuing, wrought in such manner as he absolutely assured
himself of her; and without any bodies being aware of it, he caused a great many Christian slaves, which were newly delivered, to enter into her. After he had
taken this order, he went to see Soliman again, but it was with so much repugnancie, as it fell out well for him that he did not see him; it being most certain, that
whereas he was not accustomed to disguise his thoughts, it would have been
impossible for him not to have testified somewhat of that vvhich he had in his
heart. When he arrived at the Seraglio, he was told that the Grand Signior vvas
at the Sultana Queens lodging; andwhereas it was the onely place in the outward
Seraglio, where Ibrahim entred not, he returned to his Palace; and there as long
as the day lasted, he received the visits of all the Bassaes, Beglerbeis, and Sangiacs,
that vvere at Constantinople. In the mean time Soliman was not vvithout unquietness, he would willingly have had Ibrahim alwaies with him, to keep him from
being with Jsabella, and would willingly withall never have seen him, since he
could not do so without being ashamed of his fault; and indeed it was out of this
consideration that he was gone to the Sultanaes lodging, that he might decline
the sight of him. It was not because his mind was quieter in that place than in
another; for he carryed his torment in his heart. His love, Jsabellaes constancy,
and Jbrahims return, possessed him with strange thoughts; and in the disorder
wherein his soul was, he made wishes against his own glory, and would that Jbrahim had been beaten in Persia; that his Army had been defeated; and that with a
lavvafull pretext he could banish him from the Port, and retain Jsabella. It vvas not
because he knew not that his designs were unjust, but it was because his passion
was instead of reason to him, and made him deal in this sort. Roxelana on her
side was not in a little pain; she saw Jsabella out of the Seraglio; and albeit the
Slave, her confident, had assured her, that Soliman had not changed his mind for
this Princess, yet she feared that seeing her no longer, and seeing Jbrahim, the love
which he bare to Jsabella would diminish, and that his good will to the Bassa
would reassume new forces. Howbeit she hoped that Jsabella would acquaint the
Grand Visier with the love that the Sultan bore her; and that thereupon she would
do something which might give him opportunity to ruin him. In this belief an
hour after Jsabella was gone out of the Seraglio she sent to will Rustan that he
should carefully observe all Jbrahims actions by the same Slave which before times
had informed him of the Love that he carried to Jsabella. Rustan obeyed her so
exactly, that what care soever the Grand Visier took to conceal his design, yet
did he suspect it. First hee understood that the Bassa had enquired, vvhether
there were any Christian vessels in the Port that were to set sayl in a few
dayes, and that he had been told that one was to part the night follovving;
he understood likewise by the Slave which was his confident, that after all strangers
vvere gone from him, he went into the Princesses chamber, and that vvithout
heeding him he had sayd to her, that he came from receiving the last visits of his
Courtiers. This man told him also, that the Italian Slave, in whom the Grand Vi-




sier greatly confided, seemed to be very busie; as indeed it was he, who had in charge
to see that the vessell was made ready for their departure. Rustan having received this advice, just as it was night, let not for all that to go to the Seraglio, to advertie Roxelana of it; but whereas it was an unseasonable hour, he was constrained to give to
a Capigibassi a Letter which he had written in case he could not speak with her.
Roxelana had no sooner received it, but she went her self without further consulting to acquaint Soliman with what Rustan had certified; and whereas this Prince,
blinded by his passion, sought but for a pretext to complain of Jbrahim, he hearkned
to her with a great deal of impatience, which Roxelana having observed, she made
use of the occasion, and told him, how she had a long time known that Jbrahim favoured the Christians; that without doubt he had some hidden design, which could
not be comprehended; and adding yet more to that which Rustan had written, she
so wrought, that Soliman, to be cleared in the business, resolved to send to Jbrahims
Palace for him. And whereas there was no body about him whom he judged fit for
it, Roxelana having propounded Rustan unto him, who she said was at the gate of
the Seraglio, he consented thereunto; and having caused him to enter, the Sultan
commanded him to go to Jbrahims Palace, and will him to come presently to him.
For Soliman doubted not, if it were true that he had caused a vessell to be made
ready, but that it was for Jsabella, or for his friends; and that so, which soever it
were, he should have (according to the mind he was in) a just occasion to ruin Jbrahim. But Rustan was not like to find him at home; for as soon as it was night, he
had caused Jsabella, Sophronia, Hipolita, Leonida, Emilia, with the rest of their troup
to go secretly out of his Palace; and he himself had got out after them thorough a
door of his Garden, which was towards the Port, to embarque himself in that
vessell which he had made to be prepared, and whereof the Captain and the Pilot
were absolutely his, by means of the mony which he had caused to be given to them.
Before his departure he had written a Letter to Soliman, and had left it with one
of his servants, with order, that if any one came to ask for him from the Grand Signior, to deliver it unto him; so that Rustan arriving at his house, found him not.
It was in vain that he enquired after him, and what care soever he took for it, he
could learn no other, than that he was not in his Palace, that Jsabella, his friends,
and her friends, were not there neither; and that he had left a Letter for the Grand
Signior. Rustan having taken it, sent to the Port to learn whether any vessell had
set sail, and then went in all hast to the Sultan, to acquaint him with Jbrahims fight,
and present him with the Letter which he had written to him; for he durst not
conceal it, though gladly he would, because many had seen it delivered to him.
My Lord, said he when he was come unto him, Jbrahim is no longer at Constantinople.
This speech amazed Soliman; but when he knew that Jsabella vvas out of his power
he felt a redoubling of love, jealousie, anger, hatred, dispair, and fury. And when
as Rustan had given him Jbrahims Letter, he broke up the seal with violence, and not
knowing whether he should read or tear it, he stood a pretty while without speaking; but at length carried by his curiosity, or rather by his passion, he opened it
sighing, and found that it was thus.
Ibrahims Letter to Soliman.HEaven be my witness, whether J could not more easily resolve to quit my life, than go ou tof thy Empire, without taking leave of thy Highness, where J not forced thereunto, both by an interest of hnoour, and by a sense of love. Thou knowset too well how exactly J have kept my word with thee, in comming to take my former chains upon me again, for thee to suspect J would commit a fault lightly. J could in consideration of thy Highness, quit Isabella at Monaco, but J confess that J could not abandon her at Constantinople. In fine, my Lord, to excuse my fault, consider what love hath made thee do; this passion hath made thee forget the friendship which thou hadst promised me; it hathcarried thee to hate me, it hath constrained thee to banish reason from thy soul, and no
longer to remember, that this Ibrahim from whom thou wouldest take away his life, in
taking Isabella from him, is the same who in times past quitted Isabella for the love of
thee, and who would dye with joy for thy service. Thou seest then, my Lord, to what
this passion hath carried thee, in regard whereof excuse that which it compels me to do.
J doe not fly from Soliman, but from the passion which masters him; and without complaining of him, I accuse the beauty of Isabella; and J part away the unhappiest man
that is, because J cannot do so without displeasing thy Highness.Justiniano.Soliman nothing moved with this Letter, tore it after he had read it; and the
confusion which it brought to his soul, instead of begetting repentance, augmented his fury the more. Let this ingratefull wretch, said he to Rustan, be pursued,
and let all that is possible be done to return him into my power. Roxelana entring
hereupon into Solimans chamber, from whence she had gone a little after Rustans
departure, and perceiving his mind to be in the tearms wherein she had long desired to have it, provoked his anger yet more; and propounded unto him the imploying of Rustan in the pursuit of Jbrahim: But that which she thought cunningly to do succeeded not with her; her intention was so to use the matter, as Rustan
should not find Jbrahim: For whereas her interest was, that he should no longer
have power, nor be longer at the Port, she feared if he should be brought back again, that she should not oblige Soliman to ruin him uttetly; and so he might return into grace again. Howbeit this design was not executed; for besides that she
could not speak with Rustan in private, the Grand Signior so absolutely commanded him to bring him back Ibrahim and Jsabella, or never to return, as she vvas
constrained to let him go without saying any thing to him. He went then in all
hast to take a Galley to pursue him, because he had understood from him whom
he had sent to the Port, that a Christian vessell had set sayl by the Grand Visiers
order a little before. He imbarqued himself then with all the speed that possibly
he could; and not doubting but that he took the way of the Archipelago, he made
his Pilot hold the same course. In the mean time Soliman was not without unquietness; the privation of a good which he ardently desired, made him regard
it as a thing yet more precious; Isabella appeared to him more amiable than ever
he had seen her; yea he beleeved that it may be he might one day have won her
heart; and in this belief he was infinitely afflicted. He looked upon Jbrahim with
hatred, and this Prince was so unjust, as no longer to remember either his merit,
his courage, or the friendship he had born him; nor to consider him in this occasion but as his Rivall, and as a man who had stollen a person from him, of whom
he was infinitely amorous. In this unjust thought he termed him ingratefull, he
called him ravisher, unfaithfull, and perfideous; and thinking of nothing but how
to find out means to ruin him, out of a sense of jealousie he said, Were I sure that
I should never touch the heart of Jsabella, yet I shall alwaies have this advantage,
if they be brought back to me again, that I can separate them for ever; and I shall
at leastwise have this satisfaction, that if Jsabelln be not mine, she shall never be
anybodies else. Whilst Soliman was incensing his fury and his rage, Jsabella and
that dear troup, which she loved so much, were already thinking of giving thanks
to Heaven for their deliverance. For whereas they had embarqued themselves at
the beginning of the night, they beleeved that when their flight came the next day
to be known, they should be then far enough off from being taken any more: So
that Jsabellaes mind was quiet enough; and the hope of being soon out of the
Grand Signiors power, entertained her so agreeably, as fear had scarcely any place
in her soul. Her friends began also to be no longer affraid of Soliman, and to be
in doubt of nothing but Pirates and Tempests. Doria, Horatio, and Alphonso prepared themselves for all that might happen with constancy enough; the French Marquis began already to talk according to his accustomed humor; when as Justi-niano, who was no so well assured of his good fortune, but that he had as much fear as hope, began to cry out that they were pursued, and that he saw a Galley which made towards them amain: Indeed he discovered Rustans Galley, even as they were near to that strait where the two Castles of Sestos and Abydus are situated, which the Turks at this day call Dardanelli. Justiniano, having seen this
Galley, turned himself to Jsabella, and asked her whether she would not
mit him to dye in defending her? Your death, sayd she unto him him, I may not
endure; but that excepted, I will consent to any thing rather than to fall again
into the hands of Soliman. After this discourse, Justiniano and his freinds began to
prepare themselves for defence; and though he had but few men, for to carry the business the more secretly he durst bring no more, yet were they not easie to be vanquished; for as well slaves as Merchants were sufficiently obliged to fight; and the others had not only their lives & liberties to defend, but their Sisters & their Mistrisses
too. On the other part Rustan knowing that this vessel was the same which he sought
for, and fearing that the Christian slaves which were in his Galley would not
row speedily enough, he promised them their liberty, if they imployed all their
force in this occasion, and that by their means he might stay Ibrahim; so that carried by this hope, and without inquiring whether those which they would take
were Turks or Christians, they rowed with so much vigor, as in a little time his
Galley was within Cannon shot of Ibrahims Vessell. And to keep him from flying, he discharged a piece of Ordnance, to advertise them that were of the Guard
in the Castles of Sestos and Abidus, that enemies vessells were in that place. This
device failed not to work the expected effect; for Ibrahim knowing that there
were on both sides of this straight forty pieces of Ordnance planted even with the
water, which without doubt would after this signall discharge upon him if he attempted to pass, found himself strangely troubled. For of one side he feared lest
he should see Isabella carried away with a Cannon-shot; on the other, Rustans violence was little less terrible to him; and in this unquietness he commanded his Pilot to doe one thing, and by and by unsayed it again. Isabella would have had
them expose themselves rather to the fury of the Cannon, than to fight with Rustan; but they were not long in an estate to choose what they had to doe; for this
Galley which pursued them having overtaken them, and spite of their utmost indeavours to the contrary having grapled herself to them, Ibrahim, followed by his
friends, performed such things in this occasion, as surpassed the valour of the most
illustrious Heroes. He wounded Rustan with his own hand; all those that presented themselves against him, fell presently dead, either at his feet, or into the
Sea. All Rustans souldiers fled from his incounter, and chose rather to set upon
ten others, than defend themselves from him alone. In the mean time fresh succor
came to Rustan; for they of the two Castles of Sestos and Abidus, hearing the
piece which he had caused to be shot off, came in Frigots with a great number of
souldiers to see what the matter was; and finding a Christian Vessell set upon by
Turks, they never inquired further, but joyned with them; and Ibrahim seeing his
enemies redoubled, redoubled his courage too. One would have said that he had
recovered new forces; he past from one place to another in an instant; he maintained his own men, assaulted his enemies, and fighting desperately, yet without
losing his judgement, he might peradventure have wearied and vanquished them
that assaulted him, had not Rustan, whilst he was busie in defending himself from
six which fought with him together, bethought him of a wile, which alone made
him victor. He went with some souldiers to the Captains Cabbm, with his
Scymitar in his hand, where the Princess and her dear friends, were more dead
than alive, in attending the event of the fight. When first he entred, Isabella gave
a great skriek; but this cruell man, without hearkning to her complaints, drawing
her with one hand, and holding his Scymitar in the other, pulled her to the
Cabbin-door, and calling to Ibrahim, who turned his head that way, Resolve thy
self, said he unto him, to render up thy arms, or if thou dost it not, to see the head
of her I hold here taken from her shoulders. This dreadfull speech made Ibrahim
stop a little, during the which Jsabella without daunting, prayed him not to yeeld
for to keep her from death, seeing she desired it. But Jbrahim being about to advance towards Rustan, and seeing him lift up his arm to strike Isabella, hold said he
unto him, throwing down his arms, and tendring his hands to them that invironed
him; spare the life of this person, since I did not fight but to preserve it; set her
free, and make me a slave; and if I may obtain this of thee, I will not complain of
thy cruelry. Alas! cried Jsabella then, the laying of you in irons is not giving me
liberty, nor is the putting your life in the power of your enemies, the preserving
of mine! In the mean time Doria, Alphonso, Horatio, and the French Marquis were
still indeavouring to doe their uttermost; but Jbrahim fearing left some out-rage
should be done to Jsabella, cryed to them to render themselves, which they were
constrained to doe; for Jbrahim fighting no longer, and being loaden with chains
by Rustans comniandment, they had all the enemies upon them; so that fight how
they could, number prevailed over valour, and Rustan made himself Master of the
Vessell, and of the persons whom he sought for; and having forced them to pass
into his Galley he returned to Constantinople. These infortunate ones had yet the
consolation to make this voyage together without being separated; for Rustan,
busied about stopping the blood which he lost at the wound he had received, had not
the inhumanity to keep them from talking together. Jbrahim was likewise as well
as Horatio, Alphonso, Doria, and the French Marquis, loaden with chains, which
had been knocked off from some of those slaves, who had been the cause of their
taking by rowing with such speed. Jsabella and her friends, being with them, and
not able to succour them, augmented their torments yet more with the extreme affliction that appeared in them.  Alas! said Jsabella to Jbrahim, if I were sure that
death would be the greatest misery that can arrive unto me in the place whither we
are going, I should easily comfort my self; yea and I should regard it as an happiness rather than a misfortune: but the crueltie of our enemies will not stay there;
for whereas Soliman knowes that I fear neither torments nor death, he will make
me suffer in your person, and that makes up all my grief  Fear not for me, said
Jbrahim unto her, but onely think of preserving your self: Soliman loves you, labour then to move his heart rather than to incense it, and be confident that death
cannot be grievous to me, if I were assured of your life. No, no, answered Jsabella, this is not the way I mean to hold, and you would blame me without doubt
if I should follow your counsell: I will die as well as you, and if my prayers can
obtain any thing of Soliman, it shall be that we may die together. Augment not
my torments, replyed the Illustrious Bassa, and speak not ofyour death, if you will
not have me advance mine; live, my dear Jsabella, and let me alone perish. I live,cried
Jsabella? Ah! no, no, Jsabella knows not how to survive her glory, and Justiniano, which
are the only things that can make her life agreeable, & without the which she wil not
preserve it. I may, added she, live unhappy, infortunate, laden with chains, exiled from
my country, without means, and without liberty; but I cannot live without honor
and without Justiniano; so that is Soliman will ravish me of my glory, and bereave
me of the onely person that I love, I shall not waver between death and life; and I
know what course I am to take. Ah! too generous Isabella, cryed Ibrahim then;
why have I loved you, to cause you to fsall into so many miseries? Why have I not
alwaies been your enemy, to keep you from having such cruell ones? But what say
I, sensless man, continued he, I ment the torments which I suffer, if I can repent
me of having loved you: No, Madam, I cannot doe it; I would that my death
might hinder yours, I would that I might indure all things for you, but I cannot
wish that I could not adore you. That wish would be unjust, replyed she, and would
questionless doe great wrong to our affection; which is not the cause of our misfortunes; it is two pure, and too innocent, to bee punished for a crime: and the
onely thing which comforts me in our miseries, is the belief I am in, that wee doe
not deserve them; and that Heaven sends them to us, rather to try our vertue,
than to correct our faults. But added she, before we are seperared (as without doubt
we shall be) promise me, that what artifice soever our enemies may use to perswade





you unto any thing to my disadvantage, you will never beleeve it. For hold it for most assured, that Isabella will dye a thousand times, rather than do any thing
unworthy ofher vertue, and yours. Let me then have the satisfaction to hope, that
the malice of our persecutors shall make you beleeve nothing to my prejudice. Ah!
Madam, cryed Ibrahim, it is for me to demand this favour of you; for whereas I
have not rendred you so many markes of my affection, as I have received from
your vertue, you may the mere easily doubt of it. But beleeve. Madam, that I will
dye adoring you; and if the loss of my life may oblige Soliman to restore you to
your liberty, as I purpose to beseech it of him, I shall dye even with pleasure. Let
us not separate our destinies, answered the Princess; either let us live toaether, or
let us dye together. After so sad a discourse, the excess of their affection forced
them to hold their peace; and their displeasure being shut up in their heart, they
felt it more vively than they did, whom as they eased themselves with their complaints. The unhappiness of the persons which were ingaged in their misfortune
afflicted them the more; and they saw all about them so many occasions of dispair, as
it might be said, that never was the vertue of a person put to so hard a triall. Hipolita, Sophronia, Emilia, and Leonida, were wholy dissolved into teares; AlphonsoDoria, Horatio, and the French Marquis, were also infinitely afflicted: and if Rustan
could have been touched with any compassion, hee had been doubtless with
so lamentable an object. But far from having any humanity for another,
he was cruell to himself; for though he were wounded, yet the desire which
he had to destroy Ibrahim, and to finish a thing which he had so well begun,
made him in stead of repayring to his house to look to his wound, to goe directly to the Serraglio assoon as he arrived  at Constantinople, and to behave
himself so as if he had not been hurt at all. Presently upon his landing, hee sent to
advertise Soliman of his return, and of the success of his voyage. And whereas this
Prince had increased his fury with his solitariness, he instantly commanded, that
Ibrahim and Isabella should be brought into the Seraglio, and put into severall places with a sure guard; and that all those which had followed them should bee put
likewise into another place. Never was so deplorable a thing seen, as the execution
of this commandment; Isabella would not quit Ibrahim, he too would not abandon
her; and though they had well enough foreseen that they should be separated, yet
could they not for all that consent thereunto. Their frends likewise would not
leave them, and if Soliman could have been a spectator of so sad a conversation, hee
might peradventure have been moved to piety. But at length Ibrahim and Isabella, being constrained to resolve for that which they could not avoyd, took their
farwell of each other, as persons that were never to see one another again; and following each other with their eyes as far as they could, they sware unto themselves
to dye loving one another as faithfully as they had mutually promised. After
Rustan had conducted Ibrahim to one quarter of the Seraglio, caused Isabella to bee
carried to another, and their friends to a third, he went to Soliman whose minde
had never been quiet, since he knew the success of his voyage. For seeing Jbrahim
and Jsabella in his hands, he scarcely knew what resolution to take; for in the estate wherein things were, he must destroy the Bassa, or render him his Mistress. Regarding him as the Lover of Jsabella/, he desired his death; considering him as fugitive, he found it just; but remembring the affection which he had born him, hee
had much ado to resolve to destroy him. What shall I do, said he to himself, with this
ingratefull creature, who after so many favors which he hath received from me, so
many honors which I have conferred on him, so many marks which I have rendred
him of my good will, goes out of my Empire without my leave? This perfidious
man, cried he, should have considered me-thinks, how I had heretofore broken his
chains to share my Empire with him, and how he to whom he owed his life and his
liberty, ought to have obliged him to a more exact fidelity. But this wretch preferring the possession of a woman before the greatness wherein I had set him, and my
friendship, quits and abandons me; and not content to steal a person from me whom I
love, and without whom I cannot live, he gets him away it may be with intelligences that he hath in my Empire to make war uson me, and to recover from me that




which he faith appertains unto him: But he was never of the Race of the Paleologues;
And then, continued he, if he could perswade me to it, that would be yet a further reason to oblige me to destroy him. It behoves he should die out of reason of State, as I
pretend he shall die out of reason of Love. If I regard him as a slave, I have power over his life, since every slave that breaks his irons deserves to lose it. If I regard him as
my subject, he is worthy of death for going out of my Empire without my consent.
If I regard him as a Christian, I cannot hate him enough; and if I consider him as an
Enemy-Prince, it behoves he should die, that the end of his life may make an end of setling my Throne to my successors. Soliman having, as it seemed to him, setled his resolution firmly enough, felt some rest in his minde. Howbeit suddenly some beam of light
coming to him again, he was ashamed of his own thoughts; yet would he not oppose
them, but rather sought how he might fortifie them; nevertheless there was one thing
that retained his fury for a while: Suppose, said he, that I resolve to destroy Jbrahim;
that he be already punished for his ingratitude and perfidiousness; that the end of his
life hath ended the love which he bears to Jsabella; let us see after this, whether
in thinking to do our self service, we do not hurt our self: For can she love a Prince,
who bereaves her of the person that is dearest to her in the world? But can she, continued he, love any other than Ibrahim, as long as he is living? No, no, sayd
he raising  his voyce, it behoves hee should dye; and  I shall alwayes have
this consolation, that if shee love not mee, shee shall at leastwise love nothing in the world. But (cried he again, after he had continued a while without
speaking) he whom I will destroy, is the same Jbrahim who hath done me such important service, and whom I have so much loved; howbeit, continued he, it is Jsabellaes
Lover; it is a fugitive slave; it is a revolted subject; it is a Prince my enemy; or it may be
an impostor. In such like thoughts as these was the Grand Signior, when as Rustan came
to him, who out of his malice carried him to further violence against Jbrahim, by forging matters, which he affirmied he had heard him speak against him. Presently therupon Roxelana entred, who, making as if she did not know, that there was any interest of
love in the hatred which Soliman bore to Jbrahim, spake not but of the good of the
State, and of the glory of the Empire. She represented to Soliman, how mightily he had
alwaies protested the Christians in all occasions that had been presented; as indeed she
lyed not. But although the most part of those things were done by Solimans consent in
the favor of Jbrahim, yet was this Prince so unjust, as to hearken to this accusation, as
if he had been acquainted with new crimes. After then that this wicked woman had
made him resolve to put Jbrahim to death, she told him moreover, that if hast were not
made to take away his life, the people undoubtedly would rise to save him; for, said she,
out of the design which he hath had to usurp the Empire, he hath alwaies taken great
care to make himself to be beloved of them. Soliman seeing himself upon the point of
absolutely resolving the matter, felt a new combat in his heart; love, hatred, jealousie,
friendship, shame, and glory, did their last and uttermost endeavor to vanquish one another; but at length vertue was surmounted in this occasion by the wickedness of Roxelana and Rustan: And Soliman consented that without further delay he should go and
execute this fatall sentence, which their hatred, rather than he, pronounced against the
illustrious Jbrahim. Away he went with a great deal of speed, for fear lest the Sultan
should alter his mind. Nevertheless not daring wholly to fail in the usuall form, he
sent for Jbrahim to come to supper; and this perfidious wretch, who feared a revolt,
kept all that were in the Seraglio from going forth. In the mean time Jbrahim being set
at table as the rest, Rustan in the midst of the meal presented him with a robe of black
velvet, which was an undoubted mark, that the end of this fatal feast should be the end
of his life: For after this manner is the news of death denounced to persons of quality, that are to lose their lives in the Seraglio. Jbrahim seeing his ruin certain, received
this robe for all that with a great deal of constancie. And whereas it was presented to him by Rustan, because no body else would tender him this strange preseut; I
receive it, sayd he unto him, without fearing the death which it presageth, and without being any whit surprised therewith, knowing full well that it is a dependance of the charge which I have possest, and that few Grand Visiers have dyed otherwaies: But I receive it with grief, because it blemisheth the glory of a Prince




whom I have loved, and for that it is offered to me by the hand of Rustan. This
ceremony much afflicted all them that saw it; yet did not Ibrahim rise til the time
which custom requires in such like occasions was past; nor forbear talking to some Officers of the Empire, which were at this fatal supper by Rustans order in the grand Signiors name; for he feared if they should have gone forth, and acquainted the people, that
Ibrahim was going to be put to death, they would have risen before he had been executed. And truly this design was not amiss; for whereas Ibrahim was infinitely beloved
their eys were all bedew'd with tears, and certainly had they had arms, they would have
attempted to succor him, or at leastwise would have lost themselves with him. Never was
there a more deplorable feast than this same; none that were present at it did eat any
thing; they seemed all to be condemned to death; and Ibrahim only testified by the tranquillity of his countenance, and by his constancy, that he was in case to comfort the rest.
Four mutes, which were to strangle him, stood before him, with each of them a black silk
bow-string in his hand, which was to serve for that deadly office. Now though this object possest all those that considered it, with terror and pitie, Ibrahim seemed no more
sensible of fear, than Rustan was of compassion. This Illustrious Bassa was seen with an
admirable tranquillity, and with a constancy without affectation; he indured his misery
without murmuring; he beheld the tears of others, without shedding any; and if any sign
of sadness appeared in his face, the interest of Isabella alone was the cause of it; & indeed
this thought made him suffer very much. The regret of being separated from her; the
uncertainty of what should become of her after his death, which was scarcely irksom
unto him, but for the grief which Isabella would take at it, replenished him with heavy
thoughts. Whilst he was in this estate; whilst he attended the time of his execution; and
whilst he was preparing to intreat some of them that were about him, to say something
to Soliman for the preservation of Isabella, the Sultan was not without unquietness:;
Roxelana, who had still remained with him, had not only kept his mind from inclining
to compassion, but contrarily had so incensed it, as he many times seemed to be very impatient, for that he could not receive news of Ibrahims death. Nevertheless he had no
sooner had such a like thought, but straightway he was of another opinion: He would
have a thing, and he would not have it; and in this incertainty his imagination represented unto him all Jbrahims whole life. He sought not for all that to remember the
friendship which he had born him, and the marks which he had given him of it, but to
hate him the more. This ingratefull man, said he, could not resolve to comply with a
Prince, who would have given him his daughter in mariage; who would have allied
himself to him; and who, besides yeelding up his Throne to him, hath done all things
for him. This remembrance wrought a strange effect in Soliman; he suddenly changed
colour, & after he had mused a little, as it were to call something to his memory, he cried out with strange precipication, to have Rustan fetched back again, and looking about
him, the matter is at an end, said he, wholly transported with fury; I cannot destroy mine
enemy; he must live, since I have sworn it; let one go with all speed, said he, to some of
his attendants, and revoke the sentence which I have given; but no delay must be made,
for otherwise I shal draw the heavy wrath of heaven upon my head. Roxelana, surprised
with this discourse, would have kept them from obeying the grand Signior, untill she
knew from whence this mutation came. But having commanded a second time,that one
should go & do that which he had ordained, she was compelled to consent unto it. What
so sudden a change, said she unto him, is arrived in thy Highness mind? is it possible that
Soliman, whom I have heard an hundred times say, that repentance is a weakness, whereof he was not capable, should at length be possessed with it at this present? No, said Soliman to her, I do not repent, but contrariwise that I may not repent, and that I may keep
my word, I am carried to that which I do. The Sultana having obliged him to explain
himself more clearly, he informed her, how as he was laboring to remember the obligations wherein Ibrahim was ingaged to him, to the end he might detest his ingratitude so
much the more, his memory had represented unto him, how he would once have given
him the Sultana Asteria to wife, & how at the same time, & on the same day, to secure Ibrahim from the fear which he seemed to have of the change of his fortune, he had sworn to him by Alla, that as long as he lived he should not dy a violent death. After this, said he to her, Never ask me what hath made me alter my minde: I do not repent, I would still have Jbrahim destroyed, but being unable to put him to death without vio-violating my Oath; I must no longer think of it; mine Enemy must live; I must not be revenged; and all this is, because I my self have tyed the hand, which should strike a dagger into his heart.
The Sultana, who was not so scrupulous as Soliman, nor made so exact a profession of
keeping her word, did what she could to perswade him not to keep his. No, said he unto her,
I may not fail in it; and had I promised my Empire and my Liberty, I should descend from
my Throne, and put on the Irons my self which I was to wear. Ibrahim must live, since I
have promised it; I have sworn by ALLA, and that is to say all that can be said. I should
draw down the wrath of Heaven upon me; and I should do that which I have never done,
if I should do otherwise. I have observed all that ever I have promised in my life, even without an Oath; having then sworn so solemnly, I may by no means break it. I should destroy
mine enemy, but thereby I should bring one into my heart, that would persecute me eternally; and repentance, which is a motion unknown to me, would without doubt find place in my
Soul. At length after a long contestation, Roxelana perswaded Soliman, to take the advice
of the Muphti, who she knew was absolutely hers, as having gotten him the place which he
held during Ibrahim's absence. And albeit Soliman did not think that this man could find
out any thing that would satisfie him, yet he sent for him. When he was come, and that
Roxelana, in propounding the matter unto him, had dextrously signified to him that she desired the death of Ibrahim; this man, who naturally had wit, malice, and cunning, was nevertheless sufficiently troubled to answer precisely unto that which was demanded of him for the
contenting of Roxelana. He said then that this affair was not to be spoken of precipitously;
and having required an hours time to think of it, after he had caused Soliman to repeat unto
him the very same words, which he had before-time used to Ibrahim, he fell deeply a musing:
But he was not long in searching out that which he did not think to find; My Lord, said he to
Soliman, the Prophet, whom we worship, hath no doubt inspired me with that which I
am going to tell thy Highness, that thou mayst be able to punish him whom thou wouldst
destroy. And when as Soliman had asked him how he thought to perform that which he said,
he obliged him to repeat once more unto him the promise which he had made to Ibrahim. I remember it but too well, answered the Sultan, and lo the very words which I spake. Remember (said I unto him) how I swear unto thee by ALLA, that as long as Soliman lives, thou shalt not dye a violent death. This sufficeth, replyed the Muphti, for, my Lord, to
express my thought to thy Highness; is it not true, that the promise, which thou hast made
to Ibrahim, is a thing which cannot secure him but only during thy life? and is it not certain, that thy Successors should not be obliged to preserve him? It being so, my Lord, said
he unto him, it will not be hard for me to content thee. For thy Highness having promised
Ibrahim, that he shall not dye a violent death, as long as Soliman lives; if I can make it appear to thee, that there are every day some hours, wherein Soliman doth not live, it will appear to thee by the same reason, that during the said time Ibrahim may dye, without breaking
of thy Highness word.
The Sultan hearing him speak thus, beleeved that this man knew not very well what he
would say; but the other nothing daunted, and speaking to him with as much confidence,
as if he had been inspired from Heaven; My Lord, said he unto him, it is a matter whereof
nobody is ignorant, that Sleep is called the brother of Death by all Nations, and in all Languages; and truly it is not without cause that he is termed so, it being certain, that a man
which is asleep cannot with reason be said to be living, since we see that he is deprived of all
the functions of a reasonable life, which alone is the life of man: I confess indeed how in
that estate he still enjoys the life of plants, but not that of man, which consists not but in the
use of Reason, whereof he is wholly bereft in that estate. Sleep equals Kings and Shepherds
as well as Death, the stupid and the witty, the happy and the unhappy, good men and bad;
and there is no difference seen between them, but that sleep is a short death, and death an
eternal sleep. Wherefore it being evident, that a man asleep cannot (to speak reasonably)
be said to be living, I conclude from thence, that thy Highness, without breaking thy word
may take away Ibrahim's life when as sleep hath throughly benummed thy sense and Reason.
Roxelana failed not to approve of this advice, and maintained that he had spoken judiciously.
But for Soliman, he yielded not with so much facility; he made many objections to the
Muphti, whereunto he still answered, with as much cunning as wickedness.
Thus, although this Prince hid a very piercing wit in all other things, yet the desire which
he had to make away Ibrahim, perswaded him that the Muphti had Reason; and that he
might put the grand Visier to death when he was asleep. For, this wicked man said to him,
thy Highness hath not absolutely promised him, not to put him to death, but only, that he
should not dye a violent death, as long as Soliman lives, and Soliman shall not live, when as
the Bassa shall dye. This design being conducted, it was resolved, that they should tarry till
night was come for the executing of it. For whereas sleep is not a voluntary ast, they thought
it requisite to attend till the time of sleep was come.
In the mean season Ibrahim had been brought back to the place which served him for a
prison, not knowing whether grace would be shewed him, or whether his execution was but
deferred. This incertainty was almost as displeasing, as the assurance of an approaching death
had been grievous to him; yet did he not ask any thing that regarded himself directly, but only
enquired after Isabella, who on her part was not without a world of grief. She had understood, that Ibrahim had been lead to a place, where oftentimes the grand Visiers had been
deprived of their lives, and that made her to be as much afflicted, as if she had already seen
him breathe out his last. It may be, said she, that now whil'st I am speaking Justiniano is
defending himself against his Executioners; it maybe he is yielding up his last breath, and is
thinking of me once for all. Ah! if it be so, cryed she, I beseech Heaven at leastwise to spare
me the affliction that I may not hear of his loss, and by my death to keep me from the grief
of lamenting his. Howbeit I fear, said she, that my prayers will not be heard, and that Soliman's cruelty will let me live to persecute me: But let him arm his Executioners, let him
invent torments, I will complain no more after this sorrow; he that shall acquaint me with
the loss of Justiniano, shall render me insensible to all others. Alas! what say I? added she,
it seems in hearing me speak, that I will conserve my life after he shall be deprived of his; no,
no, Isabella will not survive Justiniano; and that which the rage ofi Soliman will not do,
grief alone shall execute: Let this unjust Prince do what he will, I hope, that I shall get out
of his power, by getting out of my life; Heaven is interessed in the prayer which I make unto
it; I beg this grace of it to preserve mine innocence; and if my despair be a fault, I hope it
will pardon it in regard of the greatness of my misfortune, of the purity of my affection, and of
mine own weakness.
In this deplorable estate, Isabella having understood, that Ibrahim had been brought back
to his quarter, hope began again to find some place in her Soul; and she beleeved that Soliman having desired to see him, had peradventure been moved to compassion: Sophronia,
Hipolita, Leonida, Emilia, and the rest of their Troop, which were in another place, had
the same hope, hearing what had past: But the matter went otherwise; for as soon as night
was come, Rustan, who wholly governed this deadly ceremony, went himself a second time
to fetch Ibrahim by the Grand Signior's Command. He led him then into the same Hall,
where formerly he had been; and having left him in the company of four mutes, which were
to strangle him, as soon as Soliman was asleep, he returned to this Prince, who had at that
time no greater a longing then to make away Ibrahim. As for him, although he did not fear
death, and was exceeding peaceable, yet had his Soul great agitations. Ah, said he to himself, I shall never see Isabella more! and I shall not only be deprived of her sight, but I shall
abandon her to the violence of a Prince, who I beleeved had been her Protector: and who it
may be, provoked by her vertue, will take away her life, as well as mine; for since Soliman can consent to my death, he may well sign hers. Alas, continued he, to what an estate am I reduced! If I wish that she should live, I make wishes against her glory; I consent to the exposing of her to the rigor of a violent and amorous Prince. I cannot wish her her life, without doing her wrong; and then agian, not only I cannot desire her death, but I cannot so much as think of it, without a despair that is not to be paralled. If this Prince, who is my Rival, could be her husband, I would make vows against my self, and I love Isabella so much, as to be wiling to save her life with the loss of all my felicity. But as the case stands, she cannot be his, not only without infidelity, not only without infamy, but with an horrible crime. Alas! added he, if it were not so, my loss should not be without comfort; loving me as she doth, she would live without pleasure, but also without shame. She would bewail my death without other interest then that of conserving my memory; and fear having no place in her heart, the grief alone of having lost me would wholly possess her Soul. If I





dyed, added he, in defending Isabella; if the loss of my life could restore her to her liberty,
I should be happy, and I should think my fortune worthy of envy. But I dye to leave her
in the power ofher enemy; I dye without serving her, and without delivering her; nay I dye
without bidding her farewell.
Hereat Ibrahim redoubled his grief, and his mind seeking for new occasions to torment him,
he was taken with a remorse of Conscience for having so long a time worn a Turkish habit.
He was perswaded that the misery whereinto he was fallen was a punishment for this dissembling. He thought he had been ill counselled, and though his intention had been pure, and
that he had not done it but out of a design to serve Christendom, to whom it had been very
profitable, and that his faith had never been shaken, yet he beleeved notwithstanding that he
was faulty. This reflexion made him lift up his spirit to Heaven; crave pardon for his levity;
repent him of his misdeeds; and then pray that Isabella's innocency might not be involved in
the chastisement of his crime.
The last thing that yet afflicted Ibrahim was, that in his misfortune he could not find any
that would tell the Sultan that which he had resolved to request of him in the favor of Isabella, for Rustan had taken order to the contrary. He had also by the power of Roxelana
kept every body from going out of the Serraglio, after Ibrahim was enered into it; so that
although it was known in Constantinople, that there was some great disorder between Soliman and Ibrahim, yet the people did not suspect, that the Sultan could hate him with so
much violence; for if they had been of that opinion, loving Ibrahim as they did, they would
without doubt have set fire on the Serraglio, rather then not have succored him.
In the mean time Rustan being returned to Soliman, whose mind was full of nothing but
deadly thoughts, this Prince, to satisfie that fantastick scruple, which obliged him not to beleeve the death of Ibrahim to be unjust, but becanse he had promised him, that he should not
dye as long as he lived, commanded him to keep at his beds head, and to be sure not to go to
put Ibrahim to death, till he was fast asleep. After this order given, Soliman layd him down
with an intention (if one may be permitted to speak so) as it were to summon sleep with silence and quietness. He did what he could to divert his mind from all kind of objects; to
the end that ceasing to think, he might the more easily let himself be vanquished by this invisible Enemy, who always surmounts those more easily which resist him, then those which
seek him.
The Sultan, being thus recollected within himself, remained a while with so much tranquillity in appearance, as Rustan beleeved that he was asleep, and that he might go and put
Ibrahim to death; But he had scarcely made one step, when as this Prince rising up in his bed,
Stay, said he unto him, I am not asleep; and I will not have thee part from hence, till thou
art certain I am so. Rustan, not daring to contractid the Grand Signior, and fearing to
make him more awake then he was, if he talked longer to him, only promised him not to offer
any more to go out of his chamber, till he was well assured that he could hear nothing. After
this Soliman did yet all that he could to sleep; howbeit he had no sooner closed his eyes, but
his unquietness augmented; he was vexed that he could not be master of his thoughts, and
that that which he did to provoke sleep, was that which awakened him the more. He turned
him on one side, and then on the other, and yet was not able to find any rest. One might
have said that he met with thorns every where; that the change of place redoubled his unquietness; and when of purpose he forbore from speaking, and complaining aloud, his sighs
gave Rustan but too many signs that he was not asleep. Soliman's impatience growing
stronger, he thought if he walked a while, that it may be he should become drowzy with
weariness: He got out of his bed then, and walking sometimes with violence, and sometimes
with less precipitation, it might have been said, that he was the cause of as much unquietness
to Rustan, as he felt himself, to see that he gave him not the means to execute the desires of
the cruel Roxelana. He stood still many times, and then began again to walk faster then he
had done. Afterwards he leaned down in one place, and then in another, scarcely knowing
what he did, nor what he would do. When as he had walked a long time, and that through
weariness he had layd himself down again upon his bed, he found yet less disposition to sleep
then before; for his agitation having dissipated some vapors, which peradventure might have
lulled his Reason, and charmed his displeasure, he no sooner had a mind to close his eyes, but
his imagination represented things yet more lively unto him; And whereas a long time before




he had had none but violent passions, such then too were all his thoughts. How unhappy am
I, said he to himself! I find an impossibility in all that I desire; the least things are forbidden
me; even sleep, which all my Subjects enjoy, is to me a prohibited good; that which I do
to get it, is that which deprives me of it; and though I change place, yet still is it all one with
me; surely I must be separated from my self, if I will find the rest which I seek for. In fine,
I am more an enemy to my self, then Ibrahim is, yea and I am more unhappy then he.
After his unquietness had made him change place an hundred times, Rustan, seeing day approach, would have perswaded him not to amuse himself about this scruple, and to permit
him to go and strangle Ibrahim with his own hands, to punish him, said he, for the unquietness
which he gives thy Highness: But Soliman spake unto him with so much fury, as he was constrained to hold his peace. This cruel motion of Rustan's, struck this Prince with horror, and
whereas it is a way to compassion, leaning on a table, which was near to his bed, his imagination insensibly presented him with other objects. He saw Isabella all in tears for the death
of Ibrahim; yea it represented to him the deplorable estate wherein he was; he remembred
the time when he was his Slave; and that glorious day, wherein loaden with chains he had
saved him his Empire and his life: And comparing it with that wherein he was then, he could
not chuse but be moved at it. After this, the sight of Rustan brought to his memory all the
miseries of his house, and all the violences which he had done by his, and Roxelana's counsel.
The death of Mustapha, that of Sarraida, of her son, of Gianger, the forcible carrying
away of Axiamira, her imprisonment, the War of Persia, the things which Ibrahim had
performed therein, the death of Zelibis, and many other such like things, which filled his
mind with so many deadly ideas, as the love which he bore to Isabella began to be too weak
to dissipate them. He felt some repugnancy in his heart for that which he did; and his Reason
being suddenly untangled, What do I, said he to himself, sensless that I am, not to consider,
that the impossibility which I find to destroy a disarmed man, whom I hold in my hands,
who is loaden with irons, and who is without defence in the midst of his Executioners, is
without doubt a sign that Heaven protects him. For if it were not so, I had destroyed him
ere this; I had not promised him so long ago that I would not put him to death; I had not
remembred it so precisely ; this Artifice, which they have found out for me to be revenged,
had succeeded; I had slept, and Ibrahim had been dead. But I see plainly, as I have said,
that Heaven guards him, and that it will not let me be revenged. But alas! said he still to
himself, for what crime, for what injury, for what outrage will I be revenged? No, no,
continued he, Ibrahim is not guilty, and I alone am the offender; for I owe all things to
him, and he owes nothing to me. It is true, that he would have gone out of my Empire
without my leave, but it was to save his Mistress; and this generous man, who might have
overthrown all my State, to secure himself, and to be revenged of the infidelity which I have
used to him, was contented to fly away like a simple Slave. Let us harken to Reason which
speaks to us; let us barken to the voyce of the Prophet who holds our hand; and let us harken
no longer to this unjust love that possesseth us.
Here Soliman could not retain his tears, and the love which he bore to Isabella made him,
that he still found some difficulty in resolving to be deprived of her: But Rustan's endevoring
once more to carry him to violence, made him incline wholly to Vertues side. No, no, said
he unto him, base as thou art, I will commit no more crimes by thy counsel; the Prophet,
who guards me, will keep me from dipping my hands in the blood of Ibrahim; and if I am
to shed any, it must be theirs, who blemish my glory with their pernicious counsels. Rustan,
hearing Soliman speak in this manner, thought that he had lost his Reason; for whereas nothing new had happened, he could not comprehend, how in so short a time so great a change
should arrive unto him. But he knew not, tha tthey, which have vertuous inclinations, and
which are not wicked but by a violent passion, or the counsel of others, have need but of a moment to carry them to that which is good. Their Reason is no sooner cleared, but they
find a mighty succor in themselves; and so soon as they have a will to fight, the victory is certainly theirs. Soliman gave an illustrious example of this verity in this occasion; it being most sure, that never was there a greater or more sudden change made, then that which was made
in his Soul. He charged Rustan not to go out of his chamber, and commanded another to go
and fetch Ibrahim and Isabella to him who little thought what Vertue was doing for their
advantage. This Prince nevertheless had great unquietness still; he seemed uncertain in his



resolutions; and during the agitations of his Soul, he cryed out sometimes, O Heaven! must
Ibrahim be destroyed? then suddenly checking himself; but also, said he, can I resolve to lose
Isabella! After this, he sat him down on four Cushions, and hiding his face with both his
hands, leaning on a table, as it were the better to think of that which he would resolve of,
Rustan remained in strange pain.
In the mean time Ibrahim could not comprehend, for what reason they made him attend
so long for his death. He feared lest some violence should be done to Isabella; he doubted
lest they should be so cruel as to put her to death before his eyes; and in this pain, death no
doubt would have been a remedy unto him, had not the thought of never seeing Isabella again
rendred it more grievous to him, for that consideration, then for the loss of his life. The disorders ofhis Soul for all that appeared not in his face; and one would hardly have beleeved in
looking on him, that he did think he should dye every minute. Isabella, on her part, was
not without trouble; for having understood, that they came to fetch Ibrahim, she certainly
beleeved that he was lost, and was already preparing to follow him, when as they, who had
order to go for her, entred all into her chamber. As soon as she saw them, and that they had
told her how they had order to carry her before Soliman; if it be to put me to death in his
presence, answered she, I will give him thanks: But acquaint me at leastwise, whether Ibrahim be living, and whether we shall dye together or no. These men, not knowing Soliman's intentions, durst scarce answer her; only they assured her that she should see the
grant Visier very suddenly, as indeed they led her into the Hall where he was, attending the
time of his execution. There were seen about him his Guards weeping, and four Mutes that
were to strangle him, and that having in their hands Bow strings of black silk for that purpose,
seemed also to haue some compassion of him.
This doleful object having touch'd the heart of Isabella, she could not forbear giving a
great skriek: Alass, said she, how do I repent me of my wish! and how much more supportable had it been for me to dye alone, then to dye with you? Ibrahim seeing and hearing her
speak thus; What, Madam, said he unto her, will they attempt upon your life? Ah! no, no,
continued he, turning him to those that invironed him, it is a thing I shall never endure:
when they shall meddle with none but me, I will tender my neck to them without resistance;
but if they attempt any thing on this Princess, I protest that I will strangle him with mine
own hands that shall offer any outrage to her. This is not that which I will have, answered
she; defend not my life, if they attempt upon yours, since they are to be inseparable. I
have not wish'd to live, but onely that I may not see you dye. As they would have continued
speaking, they that came for them told them, that they had nothing else in charge but to carry them before theGrand Signior. Let us go then, said the Princess to him, let us go my
dear Justiniano; I repent me of my weakness, and since I must dye, provided that I dye in
your presence, I shall be glad that we may dye together: Let us go then and beg for death of
Soliman as a grace. Ah! Madam, cryed the illustrious Bassa, speak not of your death, if
you will not have me dye in despair. Let us go, Madam, let us go rather to beg your liberty of Soliman, and obtain of him that the loss of my life may be the price of it. I will not
have it without you, answered she, wherefore persist not in wishing to save me.
In the mean time they arrived at Soliman's Chamber, whom they found still leaning on a
Table, and in a posture, that they could not see his face. As soon as they were there, Ibrahim and Isabella cast themselves at his feet; My Lord, said the Princess, if I may obtain the
grace of thee, that I may dye with Justiniano, I will not complain of thy Highness; but
contrarily I will praise thy justice. I am guilty, my Lord, and of an horrible crime against
thee. I have made thee despise the friendship which thou barest to Justiniano; I have made
thee abandon Reason; I have put a stain on thy life; I have blemished thy glory; I have
troubled thy rest; and I have constrained the greatest Prince of the Earth to oppose all his inclinations, which carry him to vertue, for to follow an unjust passion. Thou plainly seest, my
Lord, that wrath ought to have a more just foundation in thy soul, then this Love, which afflicts thee, and persecutes me. Change thy passion in my favor, but in such sort, that as I
have been the object of thy love, so I may be likewise of thy hate. Think of revenging thy
self on the true cause of thy unquietness; think of destroying, and not of gaining me; the
last is impossible, and the other is very easie for thee. It is not because, if my tears could
move thee, I can yet assure thee that hate should have a place in my soul: For know, my Lord,



that even Justiniano, from whom thou wilt take away, both his honor, his life and my
person, which is as dear to him as both the other, yet cannot hate thee. I have seen it in his eyes,
I have known it by his discourse; he complains of fortune; he accuses that which thy Highness calls beauty in me; he names that weakness, which another would name injustice; in
fine, my Lord, being ready to dye innocently by thy directions and command, yet am I well
assured, that he will dye without hatred; and that even in dying, he will make vows to obtain of Heaven an advantageous change for thee. Judg after this, whether thou oughtest to
refuse me the grace that I may dye, and that he may be saved, since I am guilty and he is innocent.
My Lord, said Justiniano interrupting her, harken not to the vertuous Isabella, but to admire the greatness of her courage, and suffer not thy self to be perswaded to that which she
desires of thee. I will not stand to examine whether I am culpable, or whether I am not
since to be hated of thee, is to be so; but, my Lord, I will onely tell thee, that if the
sentence of my death shall be pronounced by thy mouth, I will not murmur at it. I
confess my weakness to thee, my Lord; I cannot yet believe, but that all that which
I have seen since my return, is an inchantment, and not a truth. For how can it be
imagined, that great Soliman, who hath loved me so tenderly, and given me so glorious marks thereof, can be carryed at this present to such unjust designs? That with the
same hand, wherewith he broke my chains, and put the reyns of his Empire into mine, he
can put about my neck the string which is to strangle me. Doth thy Highness no longer remember the thoughts which thou hadst, at such time as, seeing me ready to enter into the
grave, rather then displease thee with craving my liberty of thee, thou resolvedst to have the
incomparable Isabella be brought away by force. Was it then, my Lord, out of a design to
ravish her from me, to persecute her, to blemish thy glory, and to take away my life, in having unjust thoughts for her? Think not, my Lord, of, the services I have done thee, but of
those which I purposed to do thee; yet think not of them, my Lord, for to pardon me, but
think of them to save Isabella. Restore her to her liberty, make not me the cause of her
undoing, send her back into her Country, and after that put me to death here. But grant me
at leastwise the grace to pronounce my sentence unto me; for I confess to thee once more,
that I doubt whether it be possible, that thou shouldst be the same Soliman which hath so
dearly loved me.
It is in vain for you to desire, did Isabella, that we should be separated; that thought is
unjust, and does wrong to our affection; it is a motion whereof I repent me, and whereof
you ought to repent you. Beg then of Soliman, that we may dye, or that we may live together; for provided he will grant of this, I will attend his sentence, without grief, and
without unquietness. You shall live, said Soliman then to ber, discovering his face, which
he had all bathed with tears; you shall live, generous Princess, Ibrahim's vertue hath surmounted me. Approach, said he unto him, and if it be so that thou dost not hate me still,
believe for a certain, that the good-will which I have born thee is recovering its place in my
Soul: Repentance, which was a motion unknown to me, chases the love of Isabella from
it, therein to re-establish my friendship to Ibrahim; I feel it coming, my Reason re-assumes
its use; I see my injustice and my violence with confusion; I see the vertue of Isabella, and
no longer see her beauty; she strikes me with admiration, and no longer strikes me with
love; I wish I could imitate her generosity, and no longer desire the possession of her. In
fine, said he to Ibrahim, know, that of all the marks of affection, that which thou receivest
from me at this present, is without doubt the greatest; and to give no bounds to it, and
to make thee see, that knowing my fault, I will punish it, and to keep my self from falling
into it a second time, I do not onely give thee thy life, which I would have unjustly taken
from thee, but I do also give thee thy liberty, as well as that of the incomparable Isabella.
Oh! my Lord, cryed Ibrahim, I hear the voyce of Soliman; they which spake to me from him have betrayed his true thoughts. No, continued Ibrahim, let us speak no more of this doleful advanture, but as of a fable; and without thinking of that which is past, suffer me onely to give thee thanks for thy clemency. As for me, added Isabella, who eternally remembers benefits, and very easily forgets injuries; if it be so, that great Soliman hath vanquished himself, I promise thy Highness to make vows as long as I live for thy glory.
Doubt not of that which I say, replyed Soliman, and the better to assure you thereof, I
permit you, said he unto her with a voyce interrupted with sighs, to go out of my Empire
when you please: I should also be generous enough to share it with Ibrahim, to whom it
appertains more justly then to me, if I could infuse into the hearts of my subjects the thoughts
which are in mine.
During this discours Rustan was in a strange unquietness; and when as he believed that
Soliman had his minde busied, and did not think of him, he would have slipt out of the
Chamber, to go and advertise Roxelana of that which was doing: But Soliman perceiving it,
Stay, said he unto him, infamous wretch; and then he commanded him to be turned out of
the Serraglio, without permitting him to speak to any body; and charged him with a great
deal of fury never to shew himself more before him. After this, he sent for the vertuous
Achmat, and the Sultana Asteria. It is by these two persons, said he to Ibrahim, that I
will be counselled, to know what way we may take, that Justiniano may cease to be Ibrahim, without making a noise amongst the people, which might prejudice my State: For as
for my self, continued he sighing, it is so little a while since my Reason hath recovered its
place, as I dare not yet rely upon it. Ibrahim, whom we will call most commonly hereafter Justiniano, answered the Grand Signior with as much generosity as joy; for wheras he
had exceedingly loved this Prince, how great soever that was which he felt, to see Isabella
escaped from so great a danger, yet was he not a little glad also to see in Soliman the marks
of his ancient vertue again.
In the mean time, after that the Sultan had acquainted the sage Achmat, and the generous
Asteria with the business in question, in such terms, as well declared the repentance of his
soul; and after they had commended the resolution he was in, and mightily confirmed him in
the design which he had to restore Justiniano and Isabella to their liberty; Achmat, who never knew of Justiniano's disguising till then, counselled, since the matter was so far advanced,
that the people should be made to believe, how the Grand Signior had put Ibrahim to death,
upon some discovery that he had held intelligence with the Emperor Charls, and favored
the Christians in all things; yea and that some letters too should be forged, which should be
said he had been made to confess, by which means the matter would easily be credited, because it was true that every one knew, how the illustrious Bassa had always protected the
Christians. He said moreover, that is the business was not carryed in that sort, it would be
impossible to finde out a plausible pretext to keep the people from suspecting some trick in the
absence of Ibrahim, which might produce dangerous consequences.
This advice being approved of, yet because Justiniano and Isabella could not be sent away towards Genoua presently, it was thought requisite to have them secretly conveyed to
Pera, and there to remain concealed with those Greek Pnests, whom Justiniano had so much
favored, until such time as a vessel could be made ready for them. This farewell could not
be taken without shedding of a world of tears; Soliman craved pardon of Justiniano and Isabella, who after they had answered him with tenderness and submission, and assured him that
they would forget what was past, desired him he would be pleased to give their friends their
liberty, which the Sultan having granted them, they were sent for and conducted along with
them to Pera. The Sultana Asteria and Isabella said to one another all that a most strict
friendship could make two generous persons say in such like encounters. And the prudent Achmat, charging himself with the conduct of Justiniano and his Mistress, conveyed them with all
their Troop aboard a Barque, which carryed them to Pera. Soliman could not for all that see
Isabella part, without following her with his eyes, nor could he see Ibrahim go away without forgetting Isabella; it being most certain, that never was there a truer repentance, then
that of this great Prince.
In the mean time to make it be beleeved that Ibrahim was dead, a black Standart was set up
before the gate of his Palace: Achmat, fearing a sedition, put all the Janizaries into arms,
and gave them to understand, that Ibrahim was a Traytor, that he had gone about to overthrow the Empire, and that his death had been absolutely necessary for the preservation of the
State. He shewed them also certain forged Letters, to give the more credit to that which he
said. But whatsoever he could say, no sooner was the black Standart seen before the gate of
his Palace, but all the people began to murmur; There was nothing but weeping and crying
all over Constantinople.
Those Janizaries that had been the best perswaded, left not for all that to be exceedingly
afflicted; for he was so universally beloved, as there was not any body which did not lament
and commend him. Some said, that Roxelana without doubt was the cause of this mischief
and that she still remembred, how he had been the Protector of Prince Mustapha. Some
cryed out to have at leastwise the body of their Defender given unto them; others, that his
Executioners might be delivered into their hinds; and all of them together agreed in the belief, that Soliman had lost the force of his Empire, and the support of his State.
During this tumult, Rustan passing through a street, the people, who had understood by
some that had been in the Serraglio, how it was he which had been made use of for this
deadly Ceremony, and that he had put Ibrahim to death, fell upon him with so many imprecations, and with such fury, as they tore him in a thousand pieces. From thence they went
to his Palace, to set it on fire; but at length the prudent Achmat, having appeased this sedition, returned to ihe Serraglio, where he found that Heaven had made an end of revenging
Justiniano on his enemies. For Roxelana having understood that he was not dead, and that
Rustan had been torn in pieces by the people, this fierce and proud spirit, was so sensibly
touched with spight for that she could not exercise all her whole fury, that after she had continued three hours together without speaking a word, she dyed for very rage and madness;
and Justiniano had the satisfaction to know, that he was lamented of all the world, and that
the only persons which could rejoyce at his death had been punished for their injustices.
In the mean time Achmat by Soliman's Command caused the same Christian Vessel to be
made ready, which Justiniano had formerly used to get from Constantinople; and in one night he sent aboard her all the riches of Ibrahim's Palace, and a great deal more, which he was
constrained to accept of against his inclination. The Sultan wrote also with his own hand
to the illustrious Bassa, and again assured him of his repentance and affection, whereunto Justiniano and Isabella answered with a great deal of generosity. The death of Roxelana touched Soliman less, then it would have done at any other time. For as he could not but remember that she had been the object of his affection; so could he not but much more remember,
that she had been the cause of all his misfortunes, and of all his crimes, and that she would have
carried him to put to death the only man of the world whom most he loved.
This feigned death of Ibrahim was carried with so much address by the prudent Achmat,
that every body beleeved it to be so; and that is it which hath made Paulus Jovius, and all
those which have spoken of the raign of Soliman, to say, that the grand Visier perished in
that sort; but indeed the matter past as I have delivered it: For a Greek Caloyer, who had
this History from Justiniano's and Isabella's own mouth, left a relation thereof, which is come
even unto us.
In the mean time, three days after the feigned death of Ibrahim, the true Justiniano, Isabella, Sophronia, Hipolita, Emilia, Leonida, Horatio, Alphonso, Doria, the French
Marquess, and a number of Christian Slaves, whose liberty Justiniano had obtained, imbarqued themsdves one night, and set sail for Genoua, without fear of other enemies, then
the winds and the Seas; but Fortune had made too much tryal of their vertue, for to inflict
new disasters on them; and indeed she was so favorable unto them, that never was there a
more prosperous Navigation heard of.
During this Voyage, these illustrious persons had no other entertainment, then to talk of the
dangers which they had avoyded. And whereas Justiniano and Isabella had promised that
they would be inseparable in their felicity as they had been in their unhappiness; that Horatio
and Hipolita had done the like; that Sophronia and Doria had sworn never to quit one another; and that Alphonso and Leonida following the others example had taken the same resolution; it fell out that only the French Marquiss and Emilia remained without matching together, yea and that would never match with any. For one day as this fair company were talking together in the Captains Cabbin, Leonida having demanded of the French Marquiss laughing, what end he propounded to himself in the affection, which he bore to Emilia?
No other, answered he, but that of loving her as long as my inclination shall carry me thereunto. I am of the same mind, replyed Emilia, and I could never without aversion behold a
man, who of my Slave would become my Master, or at leastwise mine Equal. O, cryed
the Marquiss, how I love you for this humor! for to speak freely, and acquaint you with a




secret, which I have never told to any body; know, that the true cause of my inconstancy
hath been the fear of marriage: I have always been so afraid of engaging my self therein, as to
avoyd the occasions of it, I have used to change Mistress often. But if I can obtain of Emilia,
that she will not oblige me to be her husband, I will be eternally her Slave. All the company
then burst oat a laughing, and beleeving that their discourse was nothing but sport, every
one fell to pressing of Emilia, that she would make him become constant, in not marrying
him. Whereupon the Marquess and she made a Satyre against marriage, wherein on either
part they said very pleasant things. And for a conclusion, that which was beleeved to be but
jesting, proved to be their true thoughts; and they took as much care to promise one another that they would never marry, as the others took to obtain of their Mistresses, that as soon
as they should come to Genoua, they would render their fortunes inseparable, as indeed
they did. The wind having been extreamly favorable to them, they arrived in a few days at
Monaco; where the Princess was received of her Subjects with as much astonishment as joy.
The brute of their return being presently got to Genoua, the chief of the Senate came thither
to visit them.
These illustrious persons concealed so much of their adventures, as they thought was not
fit to be spoken of; and having been intreated by their friends, that they would after so many misfortunes celebrate the ceremony of their nuptials at Genoua; Isabella yielded thereunto
with blushing: for which effect they parted away the next day, and shortly after the Marriages of Justiniano and Isabella, of Horatio and Hipolita, of Doria and Sophronia, and of
Alphonso and Leonida, were solemnized with all possible magnificences.  The French Marquiss and Emilia promised anew an inviolable friendship to one another, with an oath that
neither of them would ever marry: and during certain days there were nothing but Balls,
running at the Ring, and publique Feasts. After which Justiniano and Isabella being re-entred into the possession of all that belonged unto them, they were conducted with a great
deal of state to Monaco; where they lived with as much satisfaction, as they had had mishaps; Justiniano esteeming himself more happy in the possession of Isabella, then if he had
reconquered the Empire of his Fathers. But by a revolution which commonly arrives in all
things, it is come to pass, that the Principality of Monaco is returned into a branch of the
House of the Grimaldies, which possesseth it at this day, under the protection of
Spain; nothing remaining of Justiniano but the memory of his glorious
actions; which certainly are great and famous enough, to oblige
Posterity never to lose the remembrance of
THE ILLUSTRIOUS BASSA.
The end of the fourth and last Part of the Jllustrious Bassa.FINIS.