Incognita..............................................................................................................................................................1

William Congreve ....................................................................................................................................1

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.......................................................................................................1

Some Authors are so fond of a Preface, that they will write one tho' there be nothing more in it than an

Apology for its self. But to show thee that I am not one of those, I will make no Apology for this, but do tell

thee that I think it necessary to be prefix'd to this Trifle, to prevent thy overlooking some little pains which I

have taken in the Composition of the following Story. Romances are generally composed of the Constant

Loves and invincible Courages of Hero's, Heroins, Kings and Queens, Mortals of the first Rank, and so forth;

where lofty Language, miraculous Contingencies and impossible Performances, elevate and surprize the

Reader into a giddy Delight, which leaves him flat upon the Ground whenever he gives of, and vexes him to

think how he has suffer'd himself to be pleased and transported, concern'd and afflicted at the several

Passages which he has Read, viz. these Knights Success to their Damosels Misfortunes, and such like, when

he is forced to be very well convinced that 'tis all a lye. Novels are of a more familiar nature; Come near us,

and represent to us Intrigues in practice, delight us with Accidents and odd Events, but not such as are wholly

unusual or unpresidented, such which not being so distant from our Belief bring also the pleasure nearer us.

Romances give more of Wonder, Novels more Delight. And with reverence be it spoken, and the Parallel

kept at due distance, there is something of equality in the Proportion which they bear in reference to one

another, with that betwen Comedy and Tragedy; but the Drama is the long extracted from Romance and

History: 'tis the Midwife to Industry, and brings forth alive the Conceptions of the Brain. Minerva walks upon

the Stage before us, and we are more assured of the real presence of Wit when it is delivered viva voce

Since all Traditions must indisputably give place to the Drama, and since there is no possibility of giving that

life to the Writing or Repetition of a Story which it has in the Action, I resolved in another beauty to imitate

Dramatick Writing, namely, in the Design, Contexture and Result of the Plot. I have not observed it before in

a Novel. Some I have seen begin with an unexpected accident, which has been the only surprizing part of the

Story, cause enough to make the Sequel look flat, tedious and insipid; for 'tis but reasonable the Reader

should expect it not to rise, at least to keep upon a level in the entertainment; for so he may be kept on in

hopes that at some time or other it may mend; but the 'tother is such a balk to a Man, 'tis carrying him up

stairs to show him the DiningRoom, and after forcing him to make a Meal in the Kitchin. This I have not

only endeavoured to avoid, but also have used a method for the contrary purpose. The design of the Novel is

obvious, after the first meeting of Aurelian and Hippolito with Incognita and Leonora, and the difficulty is in

bringing it to pass, maugre all apparent obstacles, within the compass of two days. How many probable

Casualties intervene in opposition to the main Design, viz. of marrying two Couple so oddly engaged in an

intricate Amour, I leave the Reader at his leisure to consider: As also whether every Obstacle does not in the

progress of the Story act as subservient to that purpose, which at first it seems to oppose. In a Comedy this

would be called the Unity of Action; here it may pretend to no more than an Unity of Contrivance. The Scene

is continued in Florence from the commencement of the Amour; and the time from first to last is but three

days. If there be any thing more in particular resembling the Copy which I imitate (as the Curious Reader will

soon perceive) I leave it to show it self, being very well satisfy'd how much more proper it had been for him

to have found out this himself, than for me to prepossess him with an Opinion of something extraordinary in

an Essay began and finished in the idler hours of a fortnight's time: for I can only esteem it a laborious

idleness, which is Parent to so inconsiderable a Birth. I have gratified the Bookseller in pretending an

occasion for a Preface; the other two Persons concern'd are the Reader and my self, and if he be but pleased

with what was produced for that end, my satisfaction follows of course, since it will be proportion'd to his

Aurelian was the only Son to a Principal Gentleman of Florence. The Indulgence of his Father prompted, and

his Wealth enabled him, to bestow a generous Education upon him, whom, he now began to look upon as the

Type of himself; an Impression he had made in the Gayety and Vigour of his Youth, before the Rust of Age

had debilitated and obscur'd the Splendour of the Original: He was sensible, That he ought not to be sparing

in the Adornment of him, if he had Resolution to beautifie his own Memory. Indeed Don Fabio (for so was

the Old Gentleman call'd) has been observ'd to have fix'd his Eyes upon Aurelian, when much Company has

been at Table, and have wept through Earnestness of Intention, if nothing hapned to divert the Object;

whether it were for regret, at the Recollection of his former self, or for the Joy he conceiv'd in being, as it

were, reviv'd in the Person of his Son, I never took upon me to enquire, but suppos'd it might be sometimes

Aurelian, at the Age of Eighteen Years, wanted nothing (but a Beard) that the most accomplished Cavalier in

Florence could pretend to: he had been Educated from Twelve Years old at Siena, where it seems his Father

kept a Receiver, having a large Income from the Rents of several Houses in that Town. Don Fabio gave his

Servant Orders, That Aurelian should not be stinted in his Expences, when he came up to Years of Discretion.

By which means he was enabled, not only to keep Company with, but also to confer many Obligations upon

Strangers of Quality, and Gentlemen who travelled from other Countries into Italy, of which Siena never

wanted store, being a Town most delightfully Situate, upon a Noble Hill, and very well suiting with Strangers

at first, by reason of the agreeableness and purity of the Air: There also is the quaintness and delicacy of the

Italian Tongue most likely to be learned, there being many publick Professors of it in that place; and indeed

the very Vulgar of Siena do express themselves with an easiness and sweetness surprizing, and even grateful

Here Aurelian contracted an acquaintance with Persons of Worth of several Countries, but among the rest an

intimacy with a Gentleman of Quality of Spain, and Nephew to the Archbishop of Toledo, who had so

wrought himself into the Affections of Aurelian, through a Conformity of Temper, an Equality in Years, and

something of resemblance in Feature and Proportion, that he look'd upon him as his second self. Hippolito, on

the other hand, was not ungrateful in return of Friendship, but thought himself either alone or in ill Company,

if Aurelian were absent: but his Uncle having sent him to travel, under the Conduct of a Governour, and the

two Years which limited his stay at Siena being expired, he was put in mind of his departure. His Friend grew

melancholy at the News, but considering that Hippolito had never seen Florence, he easily prevailed with him

to make his first journey thither, whither he would accompany him, and perhaps prevail with his Father to do

They accordingly set out, but not being able easily to reach Florence the same Night, they rested a League or

two short, at a Villa of the great Duke's called Poggio Imperiale, where they were informed by some of his

Highness's Servants, That the Nuptials of Donna Catharina (near Kinswoman to the great Duke) and Don

Ferdinand de Rovori, were to be solemnized the next day, and that extraordinary Preparations had been

making for some time past, to illustrate the Solemnity with Balls and Masques, and other Divertisements; that

a Tilting had been proclaimed, and to that purpose Scaffolds erected around the Spacious Court, before the

Church Di Santa Croce, where were usually seen all Cavalcades and Shews, performed by Assemblies of the

Young Nobility: That all Mechanicks and Tradesmen were forbidden to work or expose any Goods to Sale

for the space of three days; during which time all Persons should be entertain'd at the Great Duke's Cost; and

publick Provision was to be made for the setting forth and furnishing a multitude of Tables, with

Entertainment for all Comers and Goers, and several Houses appointed for that use in all Streets.

This Account alarm'd the Spirits of our Young Travellers, and they were overjoy'd at the prospect of

Pleasures they foresaw. Aurelian could not contain the satisfaction he conceiv'd in the welcome Fortune had

prepar'd for his dear Hippolito. In short, they both remembred so much of the pleasing Relation had been

made them, that they forgot to sleep, and were up as soon as it was light, pounding at poor Signior Claudio's

Door (so was Hippolito's Governour call'd) to rouse him, that no time might be lost till they were arriv'd at

Florence, where they would furnish themselves with Disguises and other Accoutrements necessary for the

Prosecution of their Design of sharing in the publick Merriment; the rather were they for going so early

because Aurelian did not think fit to publish his being in Town for a time, least his Father knowing of it,

Before Sun rise they entred Florence at Porta Romana, attended only by two Servants, the rest being left

behind to avoid notice; but, alas! they needed not to have used half that caution; for early as it was, the Streets

were crowded with all sorts of People passing to and fro, and every Man employ'd in something relating to

the Diversions to come; so that no notice was taken of any body; a Marquess and his Train might have pass'd

by as unregarded as a single Fachin or Cobler. Not a Window in the Streets but echoed the tuning of a Lute or

thrumming of a Gitarr: for, by the way, the Inhabitants of Florence are strangely addicted to the love of

Musick, insomuch that scarce their Children can go, before they can scratch some Instrument or other. It was

no unpleasing Spectacle to our Cavaliers (who, seeing they were not observ'd, resolved to make

Observations) to behold the Diversity of Figures and Postures of many of these Musicians. Here you should

have an affected Vallet, who Mimick'd the Behaviour of his Master, leaning carelessly against the Window,

with his Head on one side, in a languishing Posture, whining, in a low, mournful Voice, some dismal

Complaint; while, from his sympathizing Theorbo, issued a Base no less doleful to the Hearers. In Opposition

to him was set up perhaps a Cobler, with the wretched Skeleton of a Gitarr, battered and waxed together by

his own Industry, and who with three Strings out of Tune, and his own tearing hoarse Voice, would rack

attention from the Neighbourhood, to the great affliction of many more moderate Practitioners, who, no

doubt, were full as desirous to be heard. By this time Aurelian's Servant had taken a Lodging and was

returned, to give his Master an Account of it. The Cavaliers grown weary of that ridiculous Entertainment,

which was diverting at first sight, retired whither the Lacquey conducted them; who, according to their

Directions, had sought out one of the most obscure Streets in the City. All that day, to the evening, was spent

in sending from one Brokers Shop to another, to furnish them with Habits, since they had not time to make

There was, it happened, but one to be got Rich enough to please our young Gentlemen, so many were taken

up upon this occasion. While they were in Dispute and Complementing one another, (Aurelian protesting that

Hippolito should wear it, and he, on 'tother hand, forswearing it as bitterly) a Servant of Hippolito's came up

and ended the Controversie; telling them, That he had met below with the Vallet de Chambre of a Gentleman,

who was one of the greatest Gallants about the Town, but was at this time in such a condition he could not

possibly be at the Entertainment; whereupon the Vallet had designed to dress himself up in his Master's

Apparel, and try his talent at Court; which he hearing, told him he would inform him how he might bestow

the Habit for some time much more to his profit if not to his pleasure, so acquainted him with the occasion

his Master had for it. Hippolito sent for the Fellow up, who was not so fond of his design as not to be bought

off it, but upon having his own demand granted for the use of it, brought it; it was very Rich, and upon tryal,

as fit for Hippolito as if it had been made for him. The Ceremony was performed in the Morning, in the great

Dome, with all magnificence correspondent to the wealth of the great Duke, and the esteem he had for the

Noble Pair. The next Morning was to be a Tilting, and the same Night a Masquing Ball at Court. To omit the

Description of the universal Joy, (that had diffus'd it self through all the Conduits of Wine, which convey'd it

in large measures to the People) and only relate those effects of it which concern our present Adventurers.

You must know, that about the fall of the Evening, and at that time when the aequilibrium of Day and Night,

for some time, holds the Air in a gloomy suspence between an unwillingness to leave the light, and a natural

impulse into the Dominion of darkness, about this time our Hero's, shall I say, sally'd or slunk out of their

Lodgings, and steer'd toward the great Palace, whither, before they were arrived, such a prodigious number of

Torches were on fire, that the day, by help of these Auxiliary Forces, seem'd to continue its Dominion; the

Owls and Bats apprehending their mistake, in counting the hours, retir'd again to a convenient darkness; for

Madam Night was no more to be seen than she was to be heard; and the Chymists were of Opinion, That her

Now the Reader I suppose to be upon Thorns at this and the like impertinent Digressions, but let him alone

and he'll come to himself; at which time I think fit to acquaint him, that when I digress, I am at that time

writing to please my self, when I continue the Thread of the Story, I write to please him; supposing him a

reasonable Man, I conclude him satisfied to allow me this liberty, and so I proceed.

If our Cavaliers were dazled at the splendour they beheld without doors, what surprize, think you, must they

be in, when entering the Palace they found even the lights there to be but so many foils to the bright eyes that

A more glorious Troop no occasion ever assembled; all the fair of Florence, with the most accomplished

Cavaliers, were present; and however Nature had been partial in bestowing on some better Faces than others,

Art was alike indulgent to all, and industriously supplyed those Defects she had left, giving some Addition

also to her greatest Excellencies. Every body appear'd well shap'd, as it is to be suppos'd, none who were

conscious to themselves of any visible Deformity would presume to come thither. Their Apparel was equally

glorious, though each differing in fancy. In short, our Strangers were so well bred, as to conclude from these

apparent Perfections, that there was not a Masque which did not at least hide the Face of a Cherubim. Perhaps

the Ladies were not behind hand in return of a favourable Opinion of them: for they were both well dress'd,

and had something inexpressibly pleasing in their Air and Mien, different from other People, and indeed

differing from one another. They fansy'd that while they stood together they were more particularly taken

notice of than any in the Room, and being unwilling to be taken for Strangers, which they thought they were,

by reason of some whispering they observed near them, they agreed upon an hour of meeting after the

company should be broke up, and so separately mingled with the thickest of the Assembly. Aurelian had

fixed his eye upon a Lady whom he had observ'd to have been a considerable time in close whisper with

another Woman; he expected with great impatience the result of that private Conference, that he might have

an opportunity of engaging the Lady whose Person was so agreeable to him. At last he perceived they were

broke off, and the 'tother Lady seem'd to have taken her leave. He had taken no small pains in the mean time

to put himself in a posture to accost the Lady, which, no doubt, he had happily performed had he not been

interrupted; but scarce had he acquitted himself of a preliminary bow (and which, I have heard him say, was

the lowest that ever he made) and had just opened his Lips to deliver himself of a small Complement, which,

nevertheless he was very big with, when he unluckily miscarried, by the interposal of the same Lady, whose

departure, not long before, he had so zealously pray'd for: but, as Providence would have it, there was only

some very small matter forgot, which was recovered in a short whisper. The Coast being again cleared, he

took heart and bore up, and, striking sail, repeated his Ceremony to the Lady; who, having Obligingly

'If I do not usurp a priviledge reserved for some one more happy in your acquaintance, may I presume,

Madam, to entreat (for a while) the favour of your Conversation, at least till the arrival of whom you expect,

provided you are not tired of me before; for then upon the least intimation of uneasiness, I will not fail of

doing my self the violence to withdraw for your release. The Lady made him answer, she did not expect any

body; by which he might imagine her Conversation not of value to be bespoke, and to afford it him, were but

farther to convince him to her own cost. He reply'd, 'She had already said enough to convince him of

something he heartily wished might not be to his cost in the end. She pretended not to understand him; but

told him, 'If he already found himself grieved with her Conversation, he would have sufficient reason to

repent the rashness of his first Demand before they had ended: for that now she intended to hold discourse

with him, on purpose to punish his unadvisedness, in presuming upon a Person whose dress and mien might

not (may be) be disagreeable to have wit. 'I must confess (reply'd Aurelian) my self guilty of a Presumption,

and willingly submit to the punishment you intend: and though it be an aggravation of a Crime to persevere

in its justification, yet I cannot help defending an Opinion in which now I am more confirm'd, that probable

conjectures may be made of the ingenious Disposition of the Mind, from the fancy and choice of Apparel.

The humour I grant ye (said the Lady) or constitution of the Person whether melancholick or brisk; but I

should hardly pass my censure upon so slight an indication of wit: for there is your brisk fool as well as your

brisk man of sense, and so of the melancholick. I confess 'tis possible a fool may reveal himself by his Dress,

in wearing something extravagantly singular and ridiculous, or in preposterous suiting of colours; but a

decency of Habit (which is all that Men of best sense pretend to) may be acquired by custom and example,

without putting the Person to a superfluous expence of wit for the contrivance; and though there should be

occasion for it, few are so unfortunate in their Relations and Acquaintance not to have some Friend capable

of giving them advice, if they are not too ignorantly conceited to ask it. Aurelian was so pleased with the

easiness and smartness of her Expostulation, that he forgot to make a reply, when she seem'd to expect it; but

being a Woman of a quick Apprehension, and justly sensible of her own perfections, she soon perceived he

did not grudge his attention. However she had a mind to put it upon him to turn the discourse, so went on

upon the same Subject. 'Signior (said she) I have been looking round me, and by your Maxim I cannot

discover one fool in the Company; for they are all well drest. This was spoken with an Air of Rallery that

awakened the Cavalier, who immediately made answer: 'Tis true, Madam, we see there may be as much

variety of good fancies as of faces, yet there may be many of both kinds borrowed and adulterate if inquired

into; and as you were pleased to observe, the invention may be Foreign to the Person who puts it in practice;

and as good an Opinion as I have of an agreeable Dress, I should be loth to answer for the wit of all about us.

I believe you (says the Lady) and hope you are convinced of your error, since you must allow it impossible to

tell who of all this Assembly did or did not make choice of their own Apparel. Not all (said Aurelian) there is

an ungainness in some which betrays them. 'Look ye there (says he) pointing to a Lady who stood playing

with the Tassels of her Girdle, I dare answer for that Lady, though she be very well dress'd, 'tis more than she

knows. His fair unknown could not forbear laughing at his particular distinction, and freely told him, he had

indeed light upon one who knew as little as any body in the Room, her self excepted. Ah! Madam, (reply'd

Aurelian) you know every thing in the World but your own Perfections, and you only know not those because

'tis the top of Perfection not to know them. How? (reply'd the Lady) I thought it had been the extremity of

knowledge to know ones self. Aurelian had a little overstrain'd himself in that Complement, and I am of

Opinion would have been puzzl'd to have brought himself off readily: but by good fortune the Musick came

into the Room and gave him an opportunity to seem to decline an answer, because the company prepared to

dance: he only told her he was too mean a Conquest for her wit who was already a Slave to the Charms of her

Person. She thanked him for his Complement, and briskly told him she ought to have made him a return in

praise of his wit, but she hoped he was a Man more happy than to be dissatisfy'd with any of his own

Endowments; and if it were so, that he had not a just Opinion of himself, she knew her self incapable of

saying any thing to beget one. Aurelian did not know well what to make of this last reply; for he always

abhor'd any thing that was conceited, with which this seem'd to reproach him. But however modest he had

been heretofore in his own thoughts, yet never was he so distrustful of his good behaviour as now, being

rally'd so by a Person whom he took to be of judgment: Yet he resolved to take no notice, but with an Air

unconcerned and full of good humour entreated her to Dance with him: She promised him to Dance with no

body else, nor I believe had she inclination; for notwithstanding her tartness, she was upon equal terms with

him as to the liking of each others Person and Humour, and only gave those little hints to try his Temper;

there being certainly no greater sign of folly and ill breeding, than to grow serious and concerned at any thing

spoken in rallery: for his part, he was strangely and insensibly fallen in love with her Shape, Wit and Air;

which, together with a white Hand, he had seen (perhaps not accidentally) were enough to have subdued a

more stubborn Heart than ever he was master of; and for her Face, which he had not seen, he bestowed upon

her the best his Imagination could furnish him with. I should by right now describe her Dress, which was

extreamly agreeable and rich, but 'tis possible I might err in some material Pin or other, in the sticking of

which may be the whole grace of the Drapery depended. Well, they danced several times together, and no

less to the satisfaction of the whole Company, than of themselves; for at the end of each Dance, some publick

Aurelian was amaz'd, that among all that danced or stood in view he could not see Hippolito; but concluding

that he had met with some pleasing Conversation, and was withdrawn to some retired part of the Room, he

forbore his search till the mirth of that Night should be over, and the Company ready to break up, where we

Hippolito, a little after he had parted with Aurelian, was got among a knot of Ladies and Cavaliers, who were

looking upon a large Gold Cup set with Jewels, in which his Royal Highness had drank to the prosperity of

the new married Couple at Dinner, and which afterward he presented to his Cousin Donna Catharina. He

among the rest was very intent, admiring the richness, workmanship and beauty of the Cup, when a Lady

came behind him and pulling him by the Elbow, made a sign she would speak with him; Hippolito, who

knew himself an utter Stranger to Florence and every body in it, immediately guessed she had mistaken him

for her acquaintance, as indeed it happened; however he resolved not to discover himself till he should be

assured of it; having followed her into a set Window remote from Company, she address'd her self to him in

this manner: 'Signior Don Lorenzo (said she) I am overjoy'd to see you are so speedily recovered of your

Wounds, which by report were much more dangerous than to have suffered your coming abroad so soon; but

I must accuse you of great indiscretion, in appearing in a Habit which so many must needs remember you to

have worn upon the like occasion not long ago, I mean at the Marriage of Don Cynthio with your Sister

Atalanta; I do assure you, you were known by it, both to Juliana and my self, who was so far concerned for

you, as to desire me to tell you, that her Brother Don Fabritio (who saw you when you came in with another

Gentleman) had eyed you very narrowly, and is since gone out of the Room, she knows not upon what

design; however she would have you, for your own sake, be advised and circumspect when you depart this

place, lest you should be set upon unawares; you know the hatred Don Fabritio has born you ever since you

had the fortune to kill his Kinsman in a Duel: Here she paused as if expecting his reply; but Hippolito was so

confounded, that he stood mute, and contemplating the hazard he had ignorantly brought himself into, forgot

his design of informing the Lady of her mistake. She finding he made her no Answer, went on. 'I perceive

(continued she) you are in some surprize at what I have related, and may be, are doubtful of the Truth; but I

thought you had been better acquainted with your Cousin Leonora's Voice, than to have forgot it so soon: Yet

in Complaisance to your ill Memory, I will put you past doubt, by shewing you my Face; with that she pulled

off her Mask, and discovered to Hippolito (now more amaz'd than ever) the most Angelick Face that he had

ever beheld. He was just about to have made her some answer, when, clapping on her Mask again without

giving him time, she happily for him pursu'd her Discourse. (For 'tis odds but he had made some discovery of

himself in the surprize he was in.) Having taken him familiarly by the Hand, now she had made her self

known to him, 'Cousin Lorenzo (added she) you may perhaps have taken it unkindly, that, during the time of

your indisposition by reason of your Wounds, I have not been to visit you; I do assure you it was not for want

of any Inclination I had both to see and serve you to my power; but you are well acquainted with the Severity

of my Father, whom you know how lately you have disobliged. I am mighty glad that I have met with you

here, where I have had an Opportunity to tell you what so much concerns your Safety, which I am afraid you

will not find in Florence; considering the great Power Don Fabritio and his Father, the Marquess of Viterbo,

have in this City. I have another thing to inform you of, That whereas Don Fabio had interested himself in

your Cause, in Opposition to the Marquess of Viterbo, by reason of the long Animosity between them, all

hopes of his Countenance and Assistance are defeated: For there has been a Proposal of Reconciliation made

to both Houses, and it is said it will be confirm'd (as most such ancient Quarrels are at last) by the Marriage

of Juliana the Marquess's Daughter, with Aurelian, Son to Don Fabio: to which effect the old Gentleman sent

'tother Day to Siena, where Aurelian has been Educated, to hasten his coming to Town; but the Messenger

returning this Morning, brought word, That the same day he arriv'd at Siena, Aurelian had set out for

Florence, in Company with a young Spanish Nobleman, his intimate Friend; so it is believ'd, they are both in

Hippolito could not forbear smiling to himself, at these last words. For ever since the naming of Don Fabio

he had been very attentive; but before, his Thoughts were wholly taken up with the Beauty of the Face he had

seen, and from the time she had taken him by the Hand, a successive warmth and chillness had play'd about

his Heart, and surpriz'd him with an unusual Transport. He was in a hundred Minds, whether he should make

her sensible of her Error or no; but considering he could expect no farther Conference with her after he

should discover himself, and that as yet he knew not of her place of abode, he resolv'd to humour the mistake

a little further. Having her still by the Hand, which he squeez'd somewhat more eagerly than is usual for

Cousins to do, in a low and undistinguishable Voice, he let her know how much he held himself obliged to

her, and avoiding as many words as handsomely he could, at the same time, entreated her to give him her

Advice, toward the management of himself in this Affair. Leonora, who never from the beginning had

entertain'd the least Scruple of distrust, imagined he spoke faintly, as not being yet perfectly recovered in his

strength; and withal considering that the heat of the Room, by reason of the Crowd, might be uneasie to a

Person in his Condition; she kindly told him, That if he were as inclinable to dispense with the remainder of

that Nights Diversion as she was, and had no other engagement upon him, by her consent they should both

steal out of the Assembly, and go to her House, where they might with more freedom discourse about a

business of that importance, and where he might take something to refresh himself if he were (as she

conceiv'd him to be) indisposed with his long standing. Judge you whether the Proposal were acceptable to

Hippolito or no; he had been ruminating with himself how to bring something like this about, and had almost

despair'd of it; when of a suddain he found the success of his design had prevented his own endeavours. He

told his Cousin in the same key as before, That he was unwilling to be the occasion of her Divorce from so

much good Company; but for his own part, he was afraid he had presumed too much upon his recovery in

coming abroad so soon, and that he found himself so unwell, he feared he should be quickly forc'd to retire.

Leonora stay'd not to make him any other reply, only tipp'd him upon the Arm, and bid him follow her at a

Whoever had seen the Joy that was in Hippolito's Countenance, and the Sprightliness with which he follow'd

his Beautiful Conductress, would scarce have taken him for a Person griev'd with uncured Wounds. She led

him down a back pair of Stairs, into one of the Palace Gardens which had a Door opening into the Piazza, not

far from where Don Mario her Father lived. They had little Discourse by the way, which gave Hippolito time

to consider of the best way of discovering himself. A thousand things came into his Head in a minute, yet

nothing that pleased him: and after so many Contrivances as he had formed for the discovery of himself, he

found it more rational for him not to reveal himself at all that Night, since he could not foresee what effect

the surprize would have, she must needs be in, at the appearance of a Stranger, whom she had never seen

before, yet whom she had treated so familiarly. He knew Women were apt to shriek or swoon upon such

Occasions, and should she happen to do either, he might be at a loss how to bring himself off. He thought he

might easily pretend to be indisposed somewhat more than ordinary, and so make an excuse to go to his own

Lodging. It came into his Head too, that under pretence of giving her an account of his Health, he might

enquire of her the means how a Letter might be convey'd to her the next morning, wherein he might inform

her gently of her mistake, and insinuate something of that Passion he had conceiv'd, which he was sure he

could not have opportunity to speak of if he bluntly revealed himself. He had just resolv'd upon this Method,

as they were come to the great Gates of the Court, when Leonora stopping to let him go in before her, he of a

suddain fetch'd his Breath violently as if some stitch or twinging smart had just then assaulted him. She

enquired the matter of him, and advised him to make haste into the House that he might sit down and rest

him. He told her he found himself so ill, that he judged it more convenient for him to go home while he was

in a condition to move, for he fear'd if he should once settle himself to rest he might not be able to stir. She

was much troubled, and would have had a Chair made ready and Servants to carry him home; but he made

answer, he would not have any of her Fathers Servants know of his being abroad, and that just now he had an

interval of ease, which he hop'd would continue till he made a shift to reach his own Lodgings. Yet if she

pleased to inform him how he might give an account of himself the next morning, in a line or two, he would

not fail to give her the thanks due to her great kindness; and withal, would let her know something which

would not a little surprize her, though now he had not time to acquaint her with it. She show'd him a little

Window at the corner of the House, where one should wait to receive his Letter, and was just taking her leave

of him, when seeing him search hastily in his Pocket, she ask'd him if he miss'd any thing; he told her he

thought a Wound which was not throughly heal'd bled a little, and that he had lost his Handkerchief. His

design took; for she immediately gave him hers: which indeed accordingly he apply'd to the only wound he

was then griev'd with; which though it went quite through his Heart, yet thank God was not Mortal. He was

not a little rejoyc'd at his good Fortune in getting so early a Favour from his Mistress, and notwithstanding

the violence he did himself to personate a sick Man, he could not forbear giving some Symptoms of an

extraordinary content; and telling her that he did not doubt to receive a considerable Proportion of ease from

the Application of what had so often kiss'd her fair Hand. Leonora who did not suspect the Compliment, told

him she should be heartily glad if that or any thing in her power might contribute to his recovery; and wishing

him well home, went into her House, as much troubled for her Cousin as he was joyful for his Mistress.

Hippolito as soon as she was gone in, began to make his Remarks about the House, walking round the great

Court, viewing the Gardens and all the Passages leading to that side of the Piazza. Having sufficiently

informed himself, with a Heart full of Love, and a Head full of Stratagem, he walked toward his Lodging,

impatient till the arrival of Aurelian that he might give himself vent. In which interim, let me take the liberty

to digress a little, and tell the Reader something which I do not doubt he has apprehended himself long ago, if

he be not the dullest Reader in the World; yet only for orders sake, let me tell him I say, That a young

Gentleman (Cousin to the aforesaid Don Fabritio) happened one night to have some words at a Gameing

House with one Lorenzo, which created a Quarrel of fatal Consequence to the former, who was killed upon

Fabritio being much concerned for his Kinsman, vow'd revenge (according to the ancient and laudable

custom of Italy) upon Lorenzo if he surviv'd, or in case of his death (if it should happen to anticipate that,

much more swinging Death which he had in store for him) upon his next of Kin, and so to descend Lineally

like an English Estate, to all the Heirs Males of this Family. This same Fabritio had indeed (as Leonora told

Hippolito) taken particular notice of him from his first entrance into the Room, and was so far doubtful as to

go out immediately himself, and make enquiry concerning Lorenzo, but was quickly inform'd of the greatness

of his Error, in believing a Man to be abroad, who was so ill of his Wounds, that they now despair'd of his

recovery; and thereupon return'd to the Ball very well satisfied, but not before Leonora and Hippolito were

So, Reader, having now discharg'd my Conscience of a small Discovery which I thought my self obliged to

make to Thee, I proceed to tell thee, that our Friend Aurelian had by this time danced himself into a Net

His Soul was charm'd to the movement of her Body: an Air so graceful, so sweet, so easie and so great, he

had never seen. She had something of Majesty in her, which appear'd to be born with her; and though it

struck an awe into the Beholders, yet was it sweetned with a familiarity of Behaviour, which rendred it

agreeable to every Body. The grandeur of her Mien was not stiff, but unstudied and unforced, mixed with a

simplicity; free, yet not loose nor affected. If the former seem'd to condescend, the latter seem'd to aspire; and

both to unite in the centre of Perfection. Every turn she gave in dancing snatcht Aurelian into a Rapture, and

he had like to have been out two or three times with following his Eyes, which she led about as Slaves to her

As soon as they had done dancing, he began to complain of his want of Breath and Lungs, to speak

sufficiently in her Commendation; She smilingly told him, he did ill to dance so much then: Yet in

Consideration of the pains he had taken more than ordinary upon her account she would bate him a great deal

of Complement, but with this Proviso, That he was to discover to her who he was. Aurelian was unwilling for

the present to own himself to be really the Man he was; when a suddain thought came into his Head to take

upon him the Name and Character of Hippolito, who he was sure was not known in Florence. He thereupon,

after a little pause, pretended to recal himself in this manner: 'Madam, it is no small demonstration of the

entire Resignation which I have made of my Heart to your Chains, since the secrets of it are no longer in my

power. I confess I only took Florence in my way, not designing any longer Residence, than should be

requisite to inform the Curiosity of a Traveller, of the rareties of the Place. Whether Happiness or Misery will

be the Consequence of that Curiosity, I am yet in fear, and submit to your Determination; but sure I am, not

to depart Florence till you have made me the most miserable Man in it, and refuse me the fatal Kindness of

Dying at your Feet. I am by Birth a Spaniard, of the City of Toledo; my name Hippolito di Saviolina: I was

yesterday a Man free, as Nature made the first; to day I am fallen into a Captivity, which must continue with

my Life, and which, it is in your power, to make much dearer to me. Thus in obedience to your Commands,

and contrary to my Resolution of remaining unknown in this place, I have inform'd you, Madam, what I am;

what I shall be, I desire to know from you; at least, I hope, the free discovery I have made of my self, will

Here a low bow, and a deep sigh, put an end to his Discourse, and signified his Expectation of her Reply,

which was to this purpose (But I had forgot to tell you, That Aurelian kept off his Mask from the time that

he told her he was of Spain, till the period of his Relation.) Had I thought (said she) that my Curiosity would

have brought me in debt, I should certainly have forborn it; or at least have agreed with you before hand

about the rate of your discovery, then I had not brought my self to the Inconveniency of being censur'd, either

of too much easiness or reservedness; but to avoid, as much as I can, the extreamity of either, I am resolv'd

but to discover my self in part, and will endeavour to give you as little occasion as I can, either to boast of, or

Aurelian interrupted her, and swore very solemnly (and the more heartily, I believe, because he then indeed

spoke truth) that he would make Florence the place of his abode, whatever concerns he had elsewhere. She

advised him to be cautious how he swore to his Expressions of Gallantry; and farther told him she now hoped

she should make him a return to all the Fine Things he had said, since she gave him his choice whether he

Aurelian who was really in Love, and in whom Consideration would have been a Crime, greedily embrac'd

the latter, since she assured him at that time he should not know both. Well, what follow'd? Why, she pull'd

off her Mask, and appear'd to him at once in the Glory of Beauty. But who can tell the astonishment Aurelian

felt? He was for a time senseless; Admiration had suppress'd his Speech, and his Eyes were entangled in

Light. I short, to be made sensible of his condition, we must conceive some Idea of what he beheld, which is

not to imagined till seen, nor then to be express'd. Now see the impertinence and conceitedness of an Author,

who will have a fling at a Description, which he has Prefaced with an impossibility. One might have seen

something in her Composition resembling the Formation of Epicurus his World, as if every Atome of Beauty

had concurr'd to unite an excellency. Had that curious Painter lived in her days, he might have avoided his

painful search, when he collected from the choicest pieces the most choice Features, and by a due Disposition

and Judicious Symmetry of those exquisite parts, made one whole and perfect Venus. Nature seem'd here to

have play'd the Plagiary, and to have molded into Substance the most refined Thoughts of inspired Poets. Her

Eyes diffus'd Rays comfortable as warmth, and piercing as the light; they would have worked a passage

through the straightest Pores, and with a delicious heat, have play'd about the most obdurate frozen Heart,

untill 'twere melted down to Love. Such Majesty and Affability were in her Looks; so alluring, yet

commanding was her Presence, that it minged awe with love; kindling a Flame which trembled to aspire. She

had danced much, which, together with her being close masked, gave her a tincture of Carnation more than

ordinary. But Aurelian (from whom I had every tittle of her Description) fancy'd he saw a little Nest of

Cupids break from the Tresses of her Hair, and every one officiously betake himself to his task. Some fann'd

with their downy Wings, her glowing Cheeks; while others brush'd the balmy Dew from off her Face, leaving

alone a heavenly Moisture blubbing on her Lips, on which they drank and revell'd for their pains; Nay, so

particular were their allotments in her service, that Aurelian was very positive a young Cupid who was but

just Penfeather'd, employ'd his naked Quills to pick her Teeth. And a thousand other things his transport

represented to him, which none but Lovers who have experience of such Visions will believe.

As soon as he awaked and found his Speech come to him, he employ'd it to this effect:

''Tis enough that I have seen a DivinityNothing but Mercy can inhabit these PerfectionsTheir utmost

rigour brings a Death preferable to any Life, but what they giveUse me, Madam, as you please; for by your

fair self, I cannot think a Bliss beyond what now I feelYou wound with Pleasure, and if you Kill it must be

with TransportAh! Yet methinks to liveO Heaven! to have Life pronounced by those Bless'd LipsDid

Aurelian was growing a little too loud with his Admiration, had she not just then interrupted him, by clapping

on her Masque, and telling him they should be observed, if he proceeded in his Extravagance; and withal, that

his Passion was too suddain to be real, and too violent to be lasting. He replied, Indeed it might not be very

lasting, (with a submissive mournful Voice) but it would continue during his Life. That it was suddain, he

denied, for she had raised it by degrees from his first sight of her, by a continued discovery of Charms, in her

Mien and Conversation, till she thought fit to set Fire to the Train she had laid, by the Lightning of her Face;

He begg'd her to believe the Sincerity of his Passion, at least to enjoin him something, which might tend to

the Convincing of her Incredulity. She said, she should find a time to make some Trials of him; but for the

first, she charged him not to follow or observe her, after the Dissolution of the Assembly. He promised to

obey, and entreated her to tell him but her Name, that he might have Recourse to that in his Affliction for her

Absence, if he were able to survive it. She desired him to live by all means; and if he must have a Name to

The Company breaking up, she took her leave, and at his earnest Entreaty, gave him a short Vision of her

Face which, then dress'd in an obliging smile, caused another fit of Transport, which lasted till she was gone

out of Sight. Aurelian gathered up his Spirits, and walked slowly towards his Lodging, never remembring

that he had lost Hippolito, till upon turning the Corner of a Street, he heard a noise of Fighting; and coming

near, saw a Man make a vigorous Defence against two, who pressed violently upon him. He then thought of

Hippolito, and fancying he saw the glimmering of Diamond Buttons, such as Hippolito had upon the Sleeves

of his Habit, immediately drew to his Assistance; and with that Eagerness and Resolution, that the Assailants,

finding their unmanly odds defeated, took to their Heels. The Person rescued by the Generous Help of

Aurelian, came toward him; but as he would have stoop'd to have saluted him, dropp'd, fainting at his feet.

Aurelian, now he was so near him, perceiv'd plainly Hippolito's Habit, and step'd hastily to take him up. Just

as some of the Guards (who were going the Rounds, apprehensive of such Disorders in an Universal

Merriment) came up to him with Lights, and had taken Prisoners the Two Men, whom they met with their

Sword's drawn; when looking in the Face of the Wounded Man, he found it was not Hippolito, but his

Governour Claudio, in the Habit he had worn at the Ball. He was extreamly surpriz'd, as were the Prisoners,

who confess'd their Design to have been upon Lorenzo; grounding their Mistake upon the Habit which was

known to have been his. They were Two Men who formerly had been Servants to him, whom Lorenzo had

They made a shift to bring Claudio to himself; and part of the Guard carrying off the Prisoners, whom

Aurelian desired they would secure, the rest accompanied him bearing Claudio in their Arms to his Lodging.

He had not patience to forbear asking for Hippolito by the Way; whom Claudio assured him, he had left safe

in his Chamber, above Two Hours since. That his coming Home so long before the Divertisements were

ended, and Undressing himself, had given him the Unhappy Curiosity, to put on his Habit, and go to the

Pallace; in his Return from whence, he was set upon in the Manner he found him, which if he recovered, he

Being come to the House, they carried him to his Bed, and having sent for Surgeons Aurelian rewarded and

dismissed the Guard. He stay'd the dressing of Claudio's Wounds, which were many, though they hop'd none

Mortal: and leaving him to his Rest, went to give Hippolito an Account of what had happened, whom he

found with a Table before him, leaning upon both his Elbows, his Face covered with his Hands, and so

motionless, that Aurelian concluded he was asleep; seeing several Papers lie before him, half written and

blotted out again, he thought to steal softly to the Table, and discover what he had been employed about. Just

as he reach'd forth his Hand to take up one of the Papers, Hippolito started up so on the suddain, as surpriz'd

Aurelian and made him leap back; Hippolito, on the other hand, not supposing that any Body had been near

him, was so disordered with the Appearance of a Man at his Elbow, (whom his Amazement did not permit

him to distinguish) that he leap'd hastily to his Sword, and in turning him about, overthrew the Stand and

Candles. Here were they both left in the Dark, Hippolito groping about with his Sword, and thrusting at every

Chair that he felt oppose him. Aurelian was scarce come to himself, when thinking to step back toward the

Door that he might inform his Friend of his Mistake, without exposing himself to his blind Fury; Hippolito

heard him stir, and made a full thrust with such Violence, that the Hilt of the Sword meeting with Aurelian's

Breast beat him down, and Hippolito a top of him, as a Servant alarm'd with the noise, came into the

Chamber with a Light. The Fellow trembled, and thought they were both Dead, till Hippolito raising himself,

to see whom he had got under him, swoon'd away upon the discovery of his Friend. But such was the

extraordinary Care of Providence in directing the Sword, that it only past under his Arm, giving no Wound to

Aurelia, but a little Bruise between his Shoulder and Breast with the Hilt. He got up, scarce recovered of his

Fright, and by the help of the Servant; laid Hippolito upon the Bed; who when he was come to himself could

hardly be perswaded, that his Friend was before him and alive, till he shew'd him his Breast, where was

nothing of a Wound. Hippolito begg'd his Pardon a Thousand Times, and curs'd himself as often, who was so

They dismiss'd the Fellow, and with many Embraces, congratulated their fortunate Delivery from the

Mischief which came so near them, each blaming himself as the Occasion: Aurelian accusing his own

unadvisedness in stealing upon Hippolito; Hippolito blaming his own temerity and weakness, in being so

easily frighted to Disorder; and last of all, his blindness, in not knowing his dearest Friend. But there he gave

a Sigh, and passionately taking Aurelian by the Hand, cry'd, Ah! my Friend, Love is indeed blind, when it

would not suffer me to see youThere arose another Sigh; a Sympathy seiz'd Aurelian immediately: (For,

by the Way, sighing is as catching among Lovers, as yawning among the Vulgar.) Beside hearing the Name

of Love, made him fetch such a Sigh, that Hippolito's were but Flyblows in Comparison, that was answered

with all the Might Hippolito had, Aurelian ply'd him close till they were both out of Breath.

Thus not a Word pass'd, though each wondred why the t'other sigh'd, at last concluded it to be only

Aurelian broke the Silence, by telling him the Misfortune of his Governour. Hippolito rejoic'd as at the

luckiest Accident which could have befall'n him. Aurelian wondred at his unseasonable Mirth, and demanded

the Cause of it; he answer'd, It would necessitate his longer Stay in Florence, and for ought he knew be the

His Friend thought him to be little better than a Madman, when he perceiv'd him of a suddain snatch out of

his Bosom a Handkerchief, which having kiss'd with a great deal of Ardour, he took Aurelian by the Hand,

'Your Florentine Cupid is certainly (said he) 'the most Expert in the World. I have since I saw you beheld the

most Beautiful of Women. I am faln desperately in Love with her, and those Papers which you see so blotted

and scattered, are but so many Essays which I have made to the Declaration of my Passion. And this

Handkerchief which I so zealously Caress, is the Inestimable Token which I have to make my self known to

her. 'O Leonora! (continued he) 'how hast thou stamp'd thine Image on my Soul! How much dearer am I to

my self, since I have had thy Heavenly Form in keeping! Now, my Aurelian, I am worthy thee; my exalted

Love has Dignified me, and rais'd me far above thy poor former Despicable Hippolito.

Aurelian seeing the Rapture he was in, thought it in vain to expect a settled Relation of the Adventure, so was

reaching to the Table for some of the Papers, but Hippolito told him, If he would have a little patience he

would acquaint him with the whole Matter; and thereupon told him Word for Word how he was mistaken for

Lorenzo, and his Management of himself. Aurelian commended his Prudence, in not discovering himself; and

told him, If he could spare so much time from the Contemplation of his Mistress, he would inform him of an

Adventure, though not so Accidental, yet of as great Concern to his own future Happiness. So related all that

Having ended the Story, they began to consider of the Means they were to use toward a Review of their

Mistresses. Aurelian was Confounded at the Difficulty he conceived on his Part. He understood from

Hippolito's Adventure, that his Father knew of his being in Town, whom he must unavoidably Disoblige if he

yet concealed himself, and Disobey if he came into his Sight; for he had already entertain'd an Aversion for

Juliana, in apprehension of her being Imposed on him. His Incognita was rooted in his Heart, yet could he not

Comfort himself with any Hopes when he should see her: He knew not where she lived, and she had made

him no Promise of a second Conference. Then did he repent his inconsiderate Choice, in preferring the

momentary Vision of her Face, to a certain Intelligence of her Person. Every thought that succeeded

distracted him, and all the Hopes he could presume upon, were within compass of the Two Days Merriment

yet to come; for which Space he hop'd he might excuse his remaining conceal'd to his Father.

Hippolito on the other side (though Aurelian thought him in a much better Way) was no less afflicted for

himself. The Difficulties which he saw in his Friend's Circumstances, put him upon finding out a great many

more in his own, than really there were. But what terrified him most of all, was his being an utter Stranger to

Leonora; she had not the least knowledge of him but through mistake, and consequently could form no Idea

of him to his Advantage. He look'd upon it as an unlucky thought in Aurelian to take upon him his Name,

since possibly the Two Ladies were acquainted, and should they communicate to each other their Adventures;

they might both reasonably suffer in their Opinions, and be thought guilty of Falshood, since it would appear

to them as One Person pretending to Two. Aurelian told him, there was but one Remedy for that, which was

for Hippolito, in the same Manner that he had done, to make use of his Name, when he writ to Leonora, and

use what arguments he could to perswade her to Secrecy, least his Father should know of the Reason which

kept him concealed in Town. And it was likely, though perhaps she might not immediately entertain his

Passion; yet she would out of Generosity conceal, what was hidden only for her sake.

Well this was concluded on, after a great many other Reasons used on either Side, in favour of the

Contrivance; they at last argued themselves into a Belief, that Fortune had befriended them with a better Plot,

than their regular Thinking could have contriv'd. So soon had they convinc'd themselves, in what they were

Aurelian laid himself down to rest, that is, upon the Bed; for he was a better Lover than to pretend to sleep

that Night, while Hippolito set himself again to frame his Letter design'd for Leonora. He writ several, at last

pitched upon one, and very probably the worst, as you may guess when you read it in its proper Place.

It was break of Day when the Servant, who had been employed all the foregoing Day in procuring

Accoutrements for the Two Cavaliers, to appear in at the Tilting, came into the Room, and told them all the

Young Gentlemen in the Town were trying their Equipage, and preparing to be early in the Lists. They made

themselves ready with all Expedition at the Alarm: and Hippolito having made a Visit to his Governour,

dispatch'd a Messenger with the Letter and Directions to Leonora. At the Signal agreed upon the Casement

was opened and a String let down, to which the Bearer having fastned the Letter, saw it drawn up, and

returned. It were a vain attempt to describe Leonora's Surprize, when she read the Superscription.The

Unfortunate Aurelian, to the Beautiful LeonoraAfter she was a little recovered from her Amaze, she

recollected to her self all the Passages between her and her supposed Cousin, and immediately concluded him

to be Aurelian. Then several little Circumstances which she thought might have been sufficient to have

convinced her, represented themselves to her; and she was in a strange Uneasiness to think of her free

She was once in a Mind to have burn'd the Letter, or to have stay'd for an Opportunity to send it again. But

she was a Woman, and her Curiosity opposed it self to all thoughts of that Nature: at length with a firm

If your fair Eyes, upon the breaking up of this, meet with somewhat too quick a Surprize, make thence, I

beseech you, some reflection upon the Condition I must needs have been in, at the suddain Appearance of

that Sun of Beauty, which at once shone so full upon my soul. I could not immediately disengage my self

from that Maze of Charms, to let you know how unworthy a Captive your Eyes had made through mistake.

Sure, Madam, you cannot but remember my Disorder, of which your Innocent (Innocent, though perhaps to

me Fatal) Error made a Charitable (but wide) Construction. Your Tongue pursued the Victory of your Eyes,

and you did not give me time to rally my poor Disordered Senses, so as to make a tolerable Retreat. Pardon,

Madam, the Continuation of the Deceipt, and call it not so, that I appear'd to be other than my self; for

Heaven knows I was not then my self, nor am I now my own. You told me something that concern'd me

nearly, as to a Marriage my Father design'd me, and much more nearly in being told by you. For Heaven's

sake, disclose not to any Body your Knowledge of me, that I may not be forced to an immediate Act of

Disobedience; for if my future Services and inviolate Love, cannot recommend me to your Favour, I shall

find more comfort in the cold Embraces of a Grave, than in the Arms of the never so much admired (but by

me dreaded) Juliana. Think, Madam, of those severe Circumstances I lie under; and withal I beg you, think it

is in your Power, and only in your Power, to make them happy as my Wishes, or much more miserable than I

am able to imagine. That dear, inestimable (though undesign'd) Favour which I receiv'd from you, shall this

Day distinguish me from the Crowd of your Admirers; that which I really applied to my inward bleeding

Wound, the welcom Wound which you have made, and which, unless from you, does wish no Cure; then

pardon and have pity on, O Adored Leonora, him, who is your's by Creation as he is Heaven's, though never

She read the Letter over and over, then flung it by, then read it again; the Novelty of the Adventure made her

repeat her Curiosity, and take more than ordinary Pains to understand it. At last her Familiarity with the

Expressions grew to an Intimacy, and what she at first permitted she now began to like. She thought there

was something in it a little more serious, than to be barely Gallantry. She wondred at her own Blindness, and

fancy'd she could remember something of a more becoming Air in the Stranger than was usual to Lorenzo.

This thought was parent to another of the same kind, till a long Chain successively had Birth, and every one

somewhat more than other, in Favour of the supposed Aurelian. She reflected upon his Discretion, in

deferring the Discovery of himself, till a little time had, as it were, weaned her from her perswasion, and by

removing her farther from her Mistake, had prepared her for a full and determinate Convincement. She

thought his Behaviour, in personating a Sick Man so readily, upon the first hint was not amiss, and smil'd to

think of his Excuse to procure her Handkerchief; and last of all, his sifting out the Means to write to her,

which he had done with that Modesty and Respect, she could not tell how to find fault with it.

She had proceeded thus far in a maze of Thought, when she started to find her self so lost to her Reason, and

would have trod back again that path of deluding Fancy; accusing her self of Fondness, and inconsiderate

Easiness, in giving Credit to the Letter of a Person whose Face she never saw, and whose first Acquaintance

with her was a Treachery, and he who could so readily deliver his Tongue of a Lye upon a Surprize, was

scarce to be trusted when he had sufficient Time allow'd him to beget a Fiction, and Means to perfect the

How did she know this to be Aurelian, if he were? Nay farther, put it to the Extremity, What if she should

upon farther Conversation with him proceed to Love him? What Hopes were there for her? Or how could she

consent to Marry a Man already Destined for another Woman? nay, a Woman that was her Friend, whose

Marrying with him was to compleat the happy Reconciliation of Two Noble Families, and which might

prevent the Effusion of much Blood likely to be shed in that Quarrel: Besides, she should incurr share of the

Guilt, which he would draw upon him by Disobedience to his Father, whom she was sure would not be

'Tis strange now, but all Accounts agree, that just here Leonora, who had run like a violent Stream against

Aurelian hitherto, now retorted with as much precipitation in his Favour. I could never get any Body to give

me a satisfactory reason, for her suddain and dextrous Change of Opinion just at that stop, which made me

conclude she could not help it; and that Nature boil'd over in her at that time when it had so fair an

Opportunity to show it self: For Leonora it seems was a Woman Beautiful, and otherwise of an excellent

Disposition; but in the Bottom a very Woman. This last Objection, this Opportunity of perswading Man to

Disobedience, determined the Matter in Favour of Aurelian, more than all his Excellencies and

Well, the Spirit of Contradiction and of Eve was strong in her; and she was in a fair Way to Love Aurelian,

for she lik'd him already; that it was Aurelian she no longer doubted, for had it been a Villain, who had only

taken his Name upon him for any ill Designs, he would never have slip'd so favourable an Opportunity as

when they were alone and in the Night coming through the Garden and broad Space before the Piazza. In

short, thus much she resolv'd, at least to conceal the Knowledge she had of him, as he had entreated her in his

Letter, and to make particular Remarks of his Behaviour that Day in the Lists, which should it happen to

Charm her with an absolute liking of his Person, she resolv'd to dress her self to the best Advantage, and

I would not have the Reader now be impertinent, and look upon this to be force, or a whim of the Author's,

that a Woman should proceed so far in her Approbation of a Man whom she never saw, that it is impossible,

therefore ridiculous to suppose it. Let me tell such a Critick, that he knows nothing of the Sex, if he does not

know that Woman may be taken with the Character and Description of a Man, when general and

extraordinary, that she may be prepossess'd with an agreeable Idea of his Person and Conversation; and

though she cannot imagine his real Features, or manner of Wit, yet she has a general Notion of what is call'd

a fine Gentleman, and is prepar'd to like such a one who does not disagree with that Character. Aurelian, as

he bore a very fair Character, so was he extreamly deserving to make it good, which otherways might have

been to his prejudice; for oftentimes, through an imprudent Indulgence to our Friends merit, we give so large

a Description of his excellencies, that People make more room in their Expectation, than the Intrinsick worth

of the Man will fill, which renders him so much the more despicable as there is emptyness to spare. 'Tis

certain, though the Women seldom find that out; for though they do not see so much in a Man as was

promised, yet they will be so kind to imagine he has some hidden excellencies; which time may discover to

them, so are content to allow, him a considerable share of their esteem, and take him into Favour upon Tick.

Aurelian as he had good Credit, so he had a good Stock to support it, and his Person was a good promising

Security for the payment of any Obligation he could lie under to the Fair Sex. Hippolito, who at this time was

our Aurelian, did not at all lessen him in appearing for him: So that although Leonora was indeed mistaken,

she could not be said to be much in the wrong. I could find in my Heart to beg the Reader's pardon for this

Digression, if I thought he would be sensible of the Civility; for I promise him, I do not intend to do it again

throughout the Story, though I make never so many, and though he take them never so ill. But because I

began this upon a bare Supposition of his Impertinence, which might be somewhat impertinent in me to

suppose, I do, and hope to make him amends by telling him, that by the time Leonora was dress'd, several

Ladies of her acquaintance came to accompany her to the place designed for the Tilting, where we will leave

Our Cavaliers had by good Fortune provided themselves of two curious Suits of light Armour, finely

enammelled and gilt. Hippolito had sent to Poggio Imperiale for a couple of fine led Horses which he had left

there with the rest of his Train at his entrance into Florence. Mounted on these and every way well Equipt,

they took their way, attended only by two Lacqueys, toward the Church di Santa Croce, before which they

were to perform their Exercises of Chivalry. Hippolito wore upon his Helm a large Plume of Crimson

Feathers, in the midst of which was artificially placed Leonora's Handkerchief. His Armour was gilt, and

enammell'd with Green and Crimson. Aurelian was not so happy as to wear any token to recommend him to

the notice of his Mistress, so had only a Plume of Skycolour and White Feathers, suitable to his Armour,

which was Silver enammelled with Azure. I shall not describe the Habits of any other Cavaliers, or of the

Ladies; let it suffice to tell the Reader they were all very Fine and very Glorious, and let him dress them in

Our Gallants entred the Lists, and having made their Obeysance to his Highness, turned round to salute and

view the Company. The Scaffold was circular, so that there was no end of the Delightful Prospect. It seem'd a

Glory of Beauty which shone around the admiring Beholders. Our Lovers soon perceived the Stars which

were to Rule their Destiny, which sparkled a lustre beyond all the inferiour Constellations, and seem'd like

two Suns to distribute Light to all the Planets in that Heavenly Sphere. Leonora knew her Slave by his Badge

and blushed till the Lilies and Roses in her cheeks had resemblance to the Plume of Crimson and White

Handkerchief in Hippolito's Crest. He made her a low bow, and reined his Horse back with an extraordinary

Grace, into a respectful retreat. Aurelian saw his Angel, his beautiful Incognita, and had no other way to

make himself known to her, but by saluting and bowing to her after the Spanish mode; she guess'd him by it

to be her new Servant Hippolito, and signified her apprehension, by making him a more particular and

The Exercise that was to be perform'd was in general a running at the Ring; and afterwards two Cavaliers

undertook to defend the Beauty of Donna Catharina, against all who would not allow her preheminence of

their Mistresses. This thing was only designed for show and form, none presuming that any body would put

so great an affront upon the Bride and Duke's Kinswoman, as to dispute her pretentions to the first place in

the Court of Venus. But here our Cavaliers were under a mistake; for seeing a large Shield carry'd before two

Knights, with a Lady painted upon it; not knowing who, but reading the Inscription which was (in large Gold

Letters) Above the Insolence of Competition. They thought themselves obliged, especially in the presence of

their Mistresses, to vindicate their Beauty; and were just spurring on to engage the Champions, when a

Gentleman stopping them, told them their mistake, that it was the Picture of Donna Catharina, and a

particular Honour done to her by his Highness's Commands, and not to be disputed. Upon this they would

have returned to their Post, much concerned for their mistake; but notice being taken by Don Ferdinand of

some Show of Opposition that was made, he would have begged leave of the Duke, to have maintained his

Lady's Honour against the Insolence of those Cavaliers; but the Duke would by no means permit it. They

were arguing about it when one of them came up, before whom the Shield was born, and demanded his

Highness's Permission, to inform those Gentlemen better of their mistake, by giving them the Foyl. By the

Intercession of Don Ferdinand, leave was given them; whereupon a Civil Challenge was sent to the two

Strangers, informing them of their Error, and withal telling them they must either maintain it by force of

Arms, or make a publick acknowledgment by riding bare headed before the Picture once round the Lists. The

StrangerCavaliers remonstrated to the Duke how sensible they were of their Error, and though they would

not justifie it, yet they could not decline the Combate, being pressed to it beyond an honourable refusal. To

the Bride they sent a Complement, wherein, having first begg'd her pardon for not knowing her Picture, they

gave her to understand, that now they were not about to dispute her undoubted right to the Crown of Beauty,

but the honour of being her Champions was the Prize they fought for, which they thought themselves as able

to maintain as any other Pretenders. Wherefore they pray'd her, that if fortune so far befriended their

endeavours as to make them Victors, that they might receive no other Reward, but to be crown'd with the

Titles of their Adversaries, and be ever after esteem'd as her most humble Servants. The excuse was so

handsomely designed, and much better express'd than it is here, that it took effect. The Duke, Don Ferdinand

While the running at the Ring lasted, our Cavaliers alternately bore away great share of the Honour. That

Sport ended, Marshals were appointed for the Field, and every thing in great form settled for the Combat. The

Cavaliers were all in good earnest, but orders were given to bring 'em blunted Lances, and to forbid the

drawing of a Sword upon pain of his Highness's Displeasure. The Trumpets sounded and they began their

Course: The Ladies' Hearts, particularly the Incognita and Leonora's beat time to the Horses Hoofs, and hope

and fear made a mock Fight within their tender Breasts, each wishing and doubting success where she lik'd:

But as the generality of their Prayers were for the graceful Strangers, they accordingly succeeded. Aurelian's

Adversary was unhorsed in the first Encounter, and Hippolito's lost both Stirrups and dropt his Lance to save

himself. The Honour of the Field was immediately granted to them, and Don Catharina sent them both

Favours, which she pray'd them to wear as her Knights. The Crowd breaking up, our Cavaliers made a shift to

steal off unmarked, save by the watchful Leonora and Incognita, whose Eyes were never off from their

respective Servants. There was enquiry made for them, but to no purpose; for they to prevent their being

discovered had prepared another House, distant from their Lodging, where a Servant attended to disarm them,

and another carried back their Horses to the Villa, while they walked unsuspected to their Lodging; but

Incognita had given command to a Page to dog 'em till the Evening, at a distance, and bring her word where

While several Conjectures pass'd among the Company, who were all gone to Dinner at the Palace, who those

Cavaliers should be, Don Fabio thought himself the only Man able to guess; for he knew for certain that his

Son and Hippolito were both in Town, and was well enough pleased with his humour of remaining Incognito

till the Diversions should be over, believing then that the surprize of his Discovery would add much to the

Gallantry he had shown in Masquerade; but hearing the extraordinary liking that every body express'd, and in

a particular manner, the great Duke himself, to the Persons and Behaviour of the unknown Cavaliers, the Old

Gentleman could not forbear the Vanity to tell his Highness, that he believed he had an interest in one of the

Gentlemen, whom he was pleased to honour with so favourable a Character; and told him what reason he had

This discovery having thus got vent, was diffused like Air; every body suck'd it in, and let it out again with

their Breath to the next they met withal; and in half an hours time it was talked of in the House where our

Adventurers were lodged. Aurelian was stark mad at the News, and knew what search would be immediately

made for him. Hippolito, had he not been desperately in Love, would certainly have taken Horse and rid out

of Town just then, for he could make no longer doubt of being discovered, and he was afraid of the just

Exceptions Leonora might make to a Person who had now deceived her twice. Well, we will leave them both

fretting and contriving to no purpose, to look about and see what was done at the Palace, where their doom

Dinner ended, the Duke retired with some chosen Friends to a Glass of Wine; among whom were the

Marquess of Viterbo and Don Fabio. His Highness was no Stranger to the long Fewd that had been between

the two Families, and also understood what Overtures of Reconciliation had been lately made, with the

Proposals of Marriage between Aurelian and the Marquess's Daughter. Having waited till the Wine had taken

the effect proposed, and the Company were raised to an uncommon pitch of Chearfulness, which he also

encouraged by an Example of Freedom and Good Humour, he took an opportunity of rallying the two grave

Signiors into an Accommodation: That was seconded with the praises of the young Couple, and the whole

Company joined in a large Encomium upon the Graces of Aurelian and the Beauties of Juliana. The old

Fellows were tickled with Delight to hear their Darlings so admired, which the Duke perceiving, out of a

Principle of Generosity and Friendship, urged the present Consummation of the Marriage; telling them there

was yet one day of publick Rejoycing to come, and how glad he should be to have it improved by so

acceptable an Alliance; and what an honour it would be to have his Cousin's Marriage attended by the

Conjunction of so extraordinary a Pair, the performance of which Ceremony would crown the Joy that was

then in Agitation, and make the last day vie for equal Glory and Happiness with the first. In short, by the

Complaisant and Perswasive Authority of the Duke, the Dons were wrought into a Compliance, and

accordingly embraced and shook Hands upon the Matter. This News was dispersed like the former, and Don

Fabio gave orders for the enquiring out his Son's Lodging, that the Marquess and he might make him a Visit,

as soon as he had acquainted Juliana with his purpose, that she might prepare her self. He found her very

chearful with Donna Catharina and several other Ladies; whereupon the old Gentleman, pretty well warmed

with the Duke's Goodfellowship, told her aloud he was come to crown their Mirth with another Wedding; that

his Highness had been pleased to provide a Husband for his Daughter, and he would have her provide her self

to receive him tomorrow. All the Company at first, as well as Juliana her self, thought he had rally'd, till the

Duke coming in confirmed the serious part of his Discourse. Juliana was confounded at the haste that was

imposed on her, and desired a little time to consider what she was about. But the Marquess told her, she

should have all the rest of her Life to consider in; that Aurelian should come and consider with her in the

Morning, if she pleased; but in the mean time, he advised her to go home and call her Maids to Counsel.

Juliana took her leave of the Company very gravely, as if not much delighted with her Father's Rallery.

Leonora happened to be by, and heard all that passed; she was ready to swoon, and found her self seized with

a more violent Passion than ever for Aurelian: Now upon her apprehensions of losing him, her active fancy

had brought him before her with all the advantages imaginable, and though she had before found great

tenderness in her Inclination toward him, yet was she somewhat surprized to find she really lov'd him. She

was so uneasie at what she had heard, that she thought it convenient to steal out of the presence and retire to

Our Two CavalierLovers had rack'd their Invention till it was quite disabled, and could not make discovery

of one Contrivance more for their Relief. Both sat silent, each depending upon his Friend, and still expecting

when t'other should speak. Night came upon them while they sate thus thoughtless, or rather drowned in

Thought; but a Servant bringing Lights into the Room awakened them: And Hippolito's Speech, usher'd by a

'Well! (said he) what must we do, Aurelian? We must suffer, replied Aurelian faintly. When immediately

raising his Voice, he cry'd out, 'Oh ye unequal Powers, why do ye urge us to desire what ye doom us to

forbear; give us a Will to chuse, then curb us with a Duty to restrain that Choice! Cruel Father, Will nothing

else suffice! Am I to be the Sacrifice to expiate your Offences past; past ere I was born? Were I to lose my

Life, I'd gladly Seal your Reconcilement with my Blood. 'But Oh my Soul is free, you have no Title to my

Immortal Being, that has Existence independent of your Power; and must I lose my Love, the Extract of that

Being, the Joy, Light, Life, and Darling of my Soul? No, I'll own my Flame, and plead my Title too.But

hold, wretched Aurelian, hold, whither does thy Passion hurry thee? Alas! the cruel fair Incognita Loves thee

not! She knows not of thy Love! If she did, what Merit hast thou to pretend? Only Love.Excess of

Love. And all the World has that. All that have seen her. Yet I had only seen her once, and in that once I lov'd

above the World; nay, lov'd beyond my self, such vigorous Flame, so strong, so quick she darted at my

Breast; it must rebound, and by Reflection, warm her self. Ah! welcome Thought, lovely deluding Fancy,

hang still upon my Soul, let me but think, that once she Loves and perish my Despair.

Here a suddain stop gave a Period also to Hippolito's Expectation, and he hoped now that his Friend had

given his Passion so free a vent, he might recollect and bethink himself of what was convenient to be done;

but Aurelia, as if he had mustered up all his Spirits purely to acquit himself of that passionate Harangue,

stood mute and insensible like an Alarum Clock, that had spent all its force in one violent Emotion. Hippolito

shook him by the Arm to rouze him from his Lethargy, when his Lacquey coming into the Room, out of

Breath, told him there was a Coach just stopp'd at the Door, but he did not take time to who came in it.

Aurelian concluded immediately it was his Father in quest of him; and without saying any more to Hippolito,

than that he was Ruined if discovered, took his Sword and slipp'd down a back pair of Stairs into the Garden,

from whence he conveyed himself into the Street. Hippolito had not bethought himself what to do, before he

perceiv'd a Lady come into the Chamber close veil'd, and make toward him. At the first Appearance of a

Woman, his Imagination flattered him with a Thought of Leonora; but that was quickly over upon nearer

Approach to the Lady, who had much the Advantage in Stature of his Mistress. He very civilly accosted her,

and asked if he were the Person to whom the Honour of that Visit was intended. She said, her Business was

with Don Hippolito di Saviolina, to whom she had Matter of Concern to import, and which required haste. He

had like to have told her, That he was the Man, but by good Chance reflecting upon his Friend's Adventure,

who had taken his name, he made Answer, that he believed Don Hippolito not far off, and if she had a

He went out, leaving the Lady in the Room, and made search all round the House and Garden for Aurelian,

but to no purpose. The Lady impatient of his long stay took a Pen and Ink and some Paper which she found

upon the Table, and had just made an End of her Letter, when hearing a Noise of more than one coming up

Stairs, she concluded his Friend had found him, and that her Letter would be to no purpose, so tore it in

pieces, which she repented; when turning about, she found her Mistake, and beheld Don Fabio and the

Marquess of Viterbo just entring at the Door. She gave a Shriek at the Surprize of their Appearance, which

much troubled the Old Gentlemen, and made them retire in Confusion for putting a Gentlewoman into such a

Fright. The Marquess thinking they had been misinformed, or had mistaken the Lodgings, came forward

again, and made an Apology to the Lady for their Errour; but she making no reply, walk'd directly by him

down Stairs and went into her Coach, which hurried her away as speedily as the Horses were able to draw.

The Dons were at a loss what to think, when, Hippolito coming into the Room to give the Lady an Account

of his Errant, was no less astonished to find she was departed, and had left Two Old Signiors in her stead. He

knew Don Fabio's Face, for Aurelian had shewn him his Father at the Tilting; but being confident he was not

known to him, he ventur'd to ask him concerning a Lady whom just now he had left in that Chamber. Don

Fabio told him, she was just gone down, and doubted they had been Guilty of a Mistake, in coming to enquire

for a Couple of Gentlemen whom they were informed were Lodged in that House; he begg'd his Pardon if he

had any Relation to that Lady, and desired to know if he could give them any Account of the Persons they

sought for. Hippolito made answer, He was a Stranger in the Place, and only a Servant to that Lady whom

they had disturb'd, and whom he must go and seek out. And in this Perplexity he left them, going again in

The Old Gentlemen at last meeting with a Servant of the House, were directed to Signior Claudio's Chamber,

where they were no sooner entered but Aurelian came into the House. A Servant who had skulk'd for him by

Hippolito's Order, followed him up into the Chamber, and told him who was with Claudio then making

Enquiry for him. He thought that to be no Place for him, since Claudio must needs discover all the Truth to

his Father; wherefore he left Directions with the Servant, where Hippolito should meet him in the Morning.

As he was going out of the Room he espied the torn Paper, which the Lady had thrown upon the Floor: The

first piece he took up had Incognita written upon it; the sight of which so Alarum'd him, he scarce knew what

he was about; but hearing a Noise of a Door opening over Head, with as much Care as was consistent with

the haste he was then in, he gathered up scattered pieces of Paper, and betook himself to a Ramble

Coming by a Light which hung at the Corner of a Street, he join'd the torn Papers and collected thus much,

that Incognita had Written the Note, and earnestly desired (if there were any reality in what he pretended to

her) to meet her at Twelve a Clock that Night at a Convent Gate; but unluckily the Bit of Paper which should

Here was a large Subject for Aurelian's Passion, which he did not spare to pour forth in Abundance of Curses

on his Stars. So earnest was he in the Contemplation of his Misfortunes, that he walk'd on unwittingly; till at

length Silence (and such as was only to be found in that part the Town, whither his unguided Steps had

carried him) surpriz'd his Attention. I say, a profound Silence rouzed him from his Thought; and a clap of

Now because it is possible this at some time or other may happen to be read by some Malicious or Ignorant

Person, (no Reflection upon the present Reader) who will not admit, or does not understand that Silence

should make a Man start; and have the same Effect, in provoking his Attention, with its opposite Noise; I will

illustrate this matter, to such a diminutive Critick, by a Parallel Instance of Light; which though it does

chiefly entertain the Eyes, and is indeed the prime Object of the Sight, yet should it immediately cease, to

have a Man left in the Dark by a suddain deficiency of it, would make him stare with his Eyes, and though he

could not see, endeavour to look about him. Why just thus did it fare with our Adventurer; who seeming to

have wandred both into the Dominions of Silence and of Night, began to have some tender for his own

Safety, and would willingly have groped his Way back again; when he heard a Voice, as from a Person

whose Breath had been stopp'd by some forcible Oppression, and just then, by a violent Effort, was broke

through the Restraint.'YetYet(again reply'd the Voice, still struggling for Air,) 'Forbearand I'll

forgive what's pastI have done nothing yet that needs a Pardon, (says another) and what is to come, will

Here the Person who seemed to be the Oppressed, made several Attempts to speak, but they were only

Aurelian was sufficiently astonish'd, and would have crept nearer to the Place whence he guessed the Voice

to come; but he was got among the Runes of an Old Monastery, and could not stir so silently, but some loose

Stones he met with made a rumbling. The Noise alarm'd both Parties; and as it gave Comfort to the one, it so

Terrified the t'other, that he could not hinder the Oppressed from calling for help. Aurelian fancy'd it was a

Woman's Voice, and immediately drawing his Sword, demanded what was the Matter; he was answered with

the Appearance of a Man, who had opened a Dark Lanthorn which he had by him, and came toward him with

Aurelian seeing the irresistable advantage his Adversary had over him, would fain have retired; and, by the

greatest Providence in the World, going backwards fell down over some loose Stones that lay in his Way, just

in that Instant of Time when the Villain fired his Pistol, who seeing him fall, concluded he had Shot him. The

Crys of the afflicted Person were redoubled at the Tragical Sight, which made the Murderer, drawing a

Poniard, to threaten him, that the next Murmur should be his last. Aurelian, who was scarce assured that he

was unhurt, got softly up; and coming near enough to perceive the Violence that was used to stop the Injured

Man's Mouth; (for now he saw plainly it was a Man) cry'd out,Turn, Villain, and look upon thy

Death.The Fellow amazed at the Voice, turn'd about to have snatch'd up the Lanthorn from the Ground;

either to have given Light only to himself, or to have put out the Candle, that he might have made his Escape;

but which of the Two he designed, no Body could tell but himself: and if the Reader have a Curiosity to

know, he must blame Aurelian; who thinking there could be no foul play offered to such a Villain, ran him

immediately through the Heart, so that he drop'd down Dead at his Feet, without speaking a Word. He would

have seen who the Person was he had thus happily delivered, but the Dead Body had fallen upon the

Lanthorn, which put out the Candle: However coming up toward him, he ask'd him how he did, and bid him

be of good Heart; he was answered with nothing but Prayers, Blessings and Thanks, called a Thousand

Deliverers, good Genius's and Guardian Angels. And the Rescued would certainly have gone upon his Knees

to have worshipped him, had he not been bound Hand and Foot; which Aurelian understanding, groped for

the Knots, and either untied them or cut them asunder; but 'tis more probable the latter, because more

They took little heed what became of the Body which they left behind them, and Aurelian was conducted

from out the Ruins by the Hand of him he had delivered. By a faint light issuing from the just rising Moon, he

could discern that it was a Youth; but coming into a more frequented part of the Town, where several Lights

were hung out, he was amaz'd at the extream Beauty which appeared in his Face, though a little pale and

disordered with his late fright. Aurelian longed to hear the Story of so odd an adventure, and entreated his

Charge to tell it him by the way; but he desired him to forbear till they were come into some House or other,

where he might rest and recover his tired Spirits, for yet he was so faint he was unable to look up. Aurelian

thought these last words were delivered in a Voice, whose accent was not new to him. That thought made him

look earnestly in the Youth's Face, which he now was sure he had somewhere seen before, and thereupon

asked him if he had never been at Siena? That Question made the young Gentleman look up, and something

of a Joy appeared in his Countenance, which yet he endeavoured to smother; so praying Aurelian to conduct

him to his Lodging, he promised him that as soon as they should come thither, he would acquaint him with

any thing he desired to know. Aurelian would rather have gone any where else than to his own Lodging; but

As soon as they were come into his Chamber, and that Lights were brought them and the Servant dismissed,

the paleness which so visibly before had usurped the sweet Countenance of the afflicted Youth vanished, and

gave place to a more lively Flood of Crimson, which with a modest heat glow'd freshly on his Cheeks.

Aurelian waited with a pleasing Admiration the discovery promised him, when the Youth still struggling with

his Resolution, with a timorous haste, pulled off a Peruke which had concealed the most beautiful abundance

of Hair that ever graced one Female Head; those dishevelled spreading tresses, as at first they made a

discovery of, so at last they served for a veil to the modest lovely blushes of the fair Incognita; for she it was

and none other. But Oh! the inexpressible, inconceivable joy and amazement of Aurelian! As soon as he durst

venture to think, he concluded it to be all Vision, and never doubted so much of any thing in his Life as of his

being then awake. But she taking him by the Hand, and desiring him to sit down by her, partly convinced him

'This is the second time, Don Hippolito, (said she to him) 'that I have been here this Night. What the occasion

was of my seeking you out, and how by miracle you preserved me, would add too much to the surprize I

perceive you to be already in should I tell you: Nor will I make any further discovery, till I know what

censure you pass upon the confidence which I have put in you, and the strange Circumstances in which you

find me at this time. I am sensible they are such, that I shall not blame your severest Conjectures; but I hope

to convince you, when you shall hear what I have to say in justification of my Vertue.

'Justification! (cry'd Aurelian) what Infidel dares doubt it! Then kneeling down, and taking her Hand, 'Ah

Madam (says he) would Heaven would no other ways look upon, than I behold your PerfectionsWrong not

your Creature with a Thought, he can be guilty of that horrid Impiety as once to doubt your

VertueHeavens! (cry'd he, starting up) 'am I so really blessed to see you once again! May I trust my

Sight?Or does my fancy now only more strongly work?For still I did preserve your Image in my Heart,

'Enough Hippolito, enough of Rapture (said she) you cannot much accuse me of Ingratitude; for you see I

have not been unmindful of you; but moderate your Joy till I have told you my Condition, and if for my sake

At that (as Aurelian tells the Story) a Sigh diffused a mournful sweetness through the Air, and liquid grief fell

gently from her Eyes, triumphant sadness sat upon her Brow, and even sorrow seem'd delighted with the

Conquest he had made. See what a change Aurelian felt! His Heart bled Tears, and trembled in his Breast;

Sighs struggling for a vent had choaked each others passage up: His Floods of Joys were all supprest; cold

doubts and fears had chill'd 'em with a sudden Frost, and he was troubled to excess; yet knew not why. Well,

the Learned say it was Sympathy; and I am always of the Opinion with the Learned, if they speak first.

After a World of Condoleance had passed between them, he prevailed with her to tell him her Story. So

having put all her Sighs into one great Sigh, she discharged her self of 'em all at once, and formed the

'Having been in my Infancy Contracted to a Man I could never endure, and now by my Parents being likely to

be forced to Marry him, is in short, the great occasion of my grief. I fansy'd (continued she) something so

Generous in your Countenance, and uncommon in your Behaviour, while you were diverting your self, and

rallying me with Expressions of Gallantry, at the Ball, as induced me to hold Conference with you. I now

freely confess to you, out of design, That if things should happen as I then feared, and as now they are come

to pass, I might rely upon your assistance in a matter of Concern; and in which I would sooner chuse to

depend upon a generous Stranger, than any Acquaintance I have. What Mirth and Freedom I then put on,

were, I can assure you, far distant from my Heart; but I did violence to my self out of Complaisance to your

Temper.I knew you at the Tilting, and wished you might come off as you did; though I do not doubt, but

you would have had as good Success had it been opposite to my Inclinations.Not to detain you by too

tedious a Relation, every day my Friends urged me to the Match they had agreed upon for me, before I was

capable of Consenting; at last their importunities grew to that degree, that I found I must either consent,

which would make me miserable, or be miserable by perpetually enduring to be baited by my Father, Brother

and other Relations. I resolved yesterday, on a suddain to give firm Faith to the Opinion I had conceived of

you; and accordingly came in the Evening to request your assistance, in delivering me from my Tormentors,

by a safe and private conveyance of me to a Monastery about four Leagues hence, where I have an Aunt who

would receive me, and is the only Relation I have averse to the Match. I was surprized at the appearance of

some Company I did not expect at your Lodgings; which made me in haste tear a Paper which I had written

to you with Directions where to find me, and get speedily away in my Coach to an old Servant's House,

whom I acquainted with my purpose: By my Order she provided me of this Habit which I now wear; I

ventured to trust my self with her Brother, and resolved to go under his Conduct to the Monastery; he proved

to be a Villain, and Pretending to take me a short and private way to the place where he was to take up a

Hackney Coach (for that which I came in was broke some where or other with the haste it made to carry me

from your Lodging) led me into an old ruined Monastery, where it pleased Heaven, by what Accident I know

not, to direct you. I need not tell you how you saved my Life and my Honour, by revenging me with the

Death of my Perfidious Guide. This is the summ of my present Condition, bating the apprehensions I am in

of being taken by some of my Relations, and forced to a thing so quite contrary to my Inclinations.

Aurelian was confounded at the Relation she had made, and began to fear his own Estate to be more

desperate than ever he had imagined. He made her a very Passionate and Eloquent Speech in behalf of

himself (much better than I intend to insert here) and expressed a mighty concern that she should look upon

his ardent Affection to be only Rallery or Gallantry. He was very free of his Oaths to confirm the Truth of

what he pretended, nor I believe did she doubt it, or at least was unwilling so to do: For I would Caution the

Reader by the bye, not to believe every word which she told him, nor that admirable sorrow which she

counterfeited to be accurately true. It was indeed truth so cunningly intermingled with Fiction, that it required

no less Wit and Presence of Mind than she was endowed with so to acquit her self on the suddain. She had

entrusted her self indeed with a Fellow who proved a Villain, to conduct her to a Monastery; but one which

was in the Town, and where she intended only to lie concealed for his sake; as the Reader shall understand

ere long: For we have another Discovery to make to him, if he have not found it out of himself already.

After Aurelian had said what he was able upon the Subject in hand, with a mournful tone and dejected look,

he demanded his Doom. She asked him if he would endeavour to convey her to the Monastery she had told

him of? 'Your commands, Madam, (replied he) 'are Sacred to me; and were they to lay down my Life I would

obey them. With that he would have gone out of the Room, to have given order for his Horses to be got ready

immediately; but with a Countenance so full of sorrow as moved Compassion in the tender hearted Incognita.

'Stay a little Don Hippolito (said she) I fear I shall not be able to undergo the Fatigue of a Journey this

Night.Stay and give me your Advice how I shall conceal my self if I continue to morrow in this Town.

Aurelian could have satisfied her she was not then in a place to avoid discovery: But he must also have told

her then the reason of it, viz. whom he was, and who were in quest of him, which he did not think convenient

to declare till necessity should urge him; for he feared least her knowledge of those designs which were in

agitation between him and Juliana, might deter her more from giving her consent. At last he resolved to try

his utmost perswasions to gain her, and told her accordingly, he was afraid she would be disturbed there in

the Morning, and he knew no other way (if she had not as great an aversion for him as the Man whom she

now endeavour'd to avoid) than by making him happy to make her self secure. He demonstrated to her, that

the disobligation to her Parents would be greater by going to a Monastery, since it was only to avoid a choice

which they had made for her, and which she could not have so just a pretence to do till she had made one for

A World of other Arguments he used, which she contradicted as long as she was able, or at least willing. At

last she told him, she would consult her Pillow, and in the Morning conclude what was fit to be done. He

thought it convenient to leave her to her rest, and having lock'd her up in his Room, went himself to repose

In the mean time, it may be convenient to enquire what became of Hippolito. He had wandered much in

pursuit of Aurelian, though Leonora equally took up his Thoughts; He was reflecting upon the oddness and

extravagance of his Circumstances, the Continuation of which had doubtless created in him a great

uneasiness, when it was interrupted with the noise of opening the Gates of the Convent of St. Lawrence,

whither he was arrived sooner than he thought for, being the place Aurelian had appointed by the Lacquey to

meet him in. He wondered to see the Gates opened at so unseasonable an hour, and went to enquire the

reason of it from them who were employ'd; but they proved to be Novices, and made him signs to go in,

where he might meet with some body allow'd to answer him. He found the Religious Men all up, and Tapers

lighting every where: at last he follow'd a Friar who was going into the Garden, and asking him the cause of

these Preparations, he was answered, That they were entreated to pray for the Soul of a Cavalier, who was

just departing or departed this Life, and whom upon farther talk with him, he found to be the same Lorenzo

so often mentioned. Don Mario, it seems Uncle to Lorenzo and Father to Leonora, had a private Door out of

the Garden belonging to his House into that of the Convent, which Door this Father was now a going to open,

that he and his Family might come and offer up their Oraisons for the Soul of their Kinsman. Hippolito

having informed himself of as much as he could ask without suspicion, took his leave of the Friar, not a little

joyful at the Hopes he had by such unexpected Means, of seeing his Beautiful Leonora: As soon as he was

got at convenient Distance from the Friar, (who 'tis like thought he had return'd into the Convent to his

Devotion) he turned back through a close Walk which led him with a little Compass, to the same private

Door, where just before he had left the Friar, who now he saw was gone, and the Door open.

He went into Don Mario's Garden, and walk'd round with much Caution and Circumspection; for the Moon

was then about to rise, and had already diffused a glimmering Light, sufficient to distinguish a Man from a

Tree. By Computation now (which is a very remarkable Circumstance) Hippolito entred this Garden near

upon the same Instant, when Aurelian wandred into the Old Monastery and found his Incognita in Distress.

He was pretty well acquainted with the Platform, and Sight of the Garden; for he had formerly surveyed the

Outside, and knew what part to make to if he should be surpriz'd and driven to a precipitate Escape. He took

his Stand behind a well grown Bush of Myrtle, which, should the Moon shine brighter than was required, had

the Advantage to be shaded by the Indulgent Boughs of an ancient BayTree. He was delighted with the

Choice he had made, for he found a Hollow in the Myrtle, as if purposely contriv'd for the Reception of one

Person, who might undiscovered perceive all about him. He looked upon it as a good Omen, that the Tree

Consecrated to Venus was so propitious to him in his Amorous Distress. The Consideration of that, together

with the Obligation he lay under to the Muses, for sheltering him also with so large a Crown of Bays, had like

He was, to tell the Truth, naturally addicted to Madrigal, and we should undoubtedly have had a small desert

of Numbers to have pick'd and Criticiz'd upon, had he not been interrupted just upon his Delivery; nay, after

the Preliminary Sigh had made Way for his Utterance. But so was his Fortune, Don Mario was coming

towards the Door at that very nick of Time, where he met with a Priest just out of Breath, who told him that

Lorenzo was just breathing his last, and desired to know if he would come and take his final Leave before

they were to administer the Extream Unction. Don Mario, who had been at some Difference with his

Nephew, now thought it his Duty to be reconciled to him; so calling to Leonora, who was coming after him,

He went on with the Priest, while Hippolito saw Leonora come forward, only accompanied by her Woman.

She was in an undress, and by reason of a Melancholy visible in her Face, more Careless than usual in her

Attire, which he thought added as much as was possible to the abundance of her Charms. He had not much

Time to Contemplate this Beauteous Vision, for she soon passed into the Garden of the Convent, leaving him

Confounded with Love, Admiration, Joy, Hope, Fear, and all the Train of Passions, which seize upon Men in

his Condition, all at once. He was so teazed with this Variety of Torment, that he never missed the Two

Hours that had slipped away during his Automachy and Intestine Conflict. Leonora's Return settled his

Spirits, at least united them, and he had now no other Thought but how he should present himself before her.

When she calling her Woman, bid her bolt the Garden Door on the Inside, that she might not be Surpriz'd by

her Father, if he returned through the Convent, which done, she ordered her to bring down her Lute, and leave

All this Hippolito saw and heard to his inexpressible Content, yet had he much to do to smother his Joy, and

hinder it from taking a Vent, which would have ruined the only Opportunity of his Life. Leonora withdrew

into an Arbour so near him, that he could distinctly hear her if she Played or Sung: Having tuned her Lute,

Ah! Whither, whither shall I fly, A poor unhappy Maid; To hopeless Love and Misery By my own Heart

betray'd? Not by Alexis Eyes undone, Nor by his Charming Faithless Tongue, Or any Practis'd Art; Such real

Ills may hope a Cure, But the sad Pains which I endure Proceed from fansied Smart.

'Twas Fancy gave Alexis Charms, Ere I beheld his Face: Kind Fancy (then) could fold our Arms, And form a

soft Embrace. But since I've seen the real Swain, And try'd to fancy him again, I'm by my Fancy taught,

Though 'tis a Bliss no Tongue can tell, To have Alexis, yet 'tis Hell To have him but in Thought.

The Song ended grieved Hippolito that it was so soon ended; and in the Ecstacy he was then rapt, I believe he

would have been satisfied to have expired with it. He could not help Flattering himself, (though at the same

Time he checked his own Vanity) that he was the Person meant in the Song. While he was indulging which

'Unhappy Leonora (said she) how is thy poor unwary Heart misled? Whither am I come? The false deluding

Lights of an imaginary Flame, have led me, a poor benighted Victim, to a real Fire. I burn and am consumed

with hopeless Love; those Beams in whose soft temperate warmth I wanton'd heretofore, now flash

destruction to my Soul, my Treacherous greedy Eyes have suck'd the glaring Light, they have united all its

Rays, and, like a burningGlass, convey'd the pointed Meteor to my HeartAh! Aurelian, how quickly hast

thou Conquer'd, and how quickly must thou Forsake. Oh Happy (to me unfortunately Happy) Juliana! I am to

be the subject of thy TriumphTo thee Aurelian comes laden with the Tribute of my Heart and Glories in

the Oblation of his broken Vows.What then, is Aurelian False! False! alass, I know not what I say; How

can he be False, or True, or any Thing to me? What Promises did he ere make or I receive? Sure I dream, or I

am mad, and fansie it to be Love; Foolish Girl, recal thy banish'd Reason.Ah! would it were no more,

would I could rave, sure that would give me Ease, and rob me of the Sense of Pain; at least, among my

wandring Thoughts, I should at sometime light upon Aurelian, and fansie him to be mine; kind Madness

would flatter my poor feeble Wishes, and sometimes tell me Aurelian is not lostnot irrecoverablynot for

Hippolito could hear no more, he had not Room for half his Transport. When Leonora perceived a Man

coming toward her, she fell a trembling, and could not speak. Hippolito approached with Reverence, as to a

Sacred Shrine; when coming near enough to see her Consternation, he fell upon his Knees.

'Behold, O Adored Leonora (said he) 'your ravished Aurelian, behold at your Feet the Happiest of Men, be

not disturb'd at my Appearance, but think that Heaven conducted me to hear my Bliss pronounced by that

Here he would have come nearer, but Leonora (scarce come to her self) was getting up in haste to have gone

away: he catch'd her Hand, and with all the Endearments of Love and Transport pressed her stay; she was a

long time in great Confusion, at last, with many Blushes, she entreated him to let her go where she might hide

her Guilty Head, and not expose her shame before his Eyes, since his Ears had been sufficient Witnesses of

her Crime. He begg'd pardon for his Treachery in overhearing, and confessed it to be a Crime he had now

repeated. With a Thousand Submissions, Entreaties, Prayers, Praises, Blessings, and passionate Expressions

he wrought upon her to stay and hear him. Here Hippolito made use of his Rhetorick, and it proved

prevailing: 'Twere tedious to tell the many ingenious Arguments he used, with all her Nice Distinctions and

Objections. In short, he convinced her of his Passion, represented to her the necessity they were under, of

being speedy in their Resolves: That his Father (for still he was Aurelian) would undoubtedly find him in the

Morning, and then it would be too late to Repent. She on the other Hand, knew it was in vain to deny a

Passion, which he had heard her so frankly own; (and no doubt was very glad it was past and done;) besides

apprehending the danger of delay, and having some little Jealousies and Fears of what Effect might be

produced between the Commands of his Father and the Beauties of Juliana; after some decent Denials, she

consented to be Conducted by him through the Garden into the Convent, where she would prevail with her

Confessor to Marry them. He was a scrupulous Old Father whom they had to deal withal, insomuch that ere

they had perswaded him, Don Mario was returned by the Way of his own House, where missing his

Daughter, and her Woman not being able to give any farther Account of her, than that she left her in the

Garden; he concluded she was gone again to her Devotions, and indeed he found her in the Chappel upon her

Knees with Hippolito in her hand, receiving the Father's Benediction upon Conclusion of the Ceremony.

It would have asked a very skilful Hand, to have depicted to the Life the Faces of those Three Persons, at Don

Mario's Appearance. He that has seen some admirable Piece of Transmutation by a Gorgon's Head, may form

to himself the most probable Idea of the Prototype. The Old Gentleman was himself in a sort of a Wood, to

find his Daughter with a Young Fellow and a Priest, but as yet he did not know the Worst, till Hippolito and

Leonora came, and kneeling at his Feet, begg'd his Forgiveness and Blessing as his Son and Daughter. Don

Mario, instead of that, fell into a most violent Passion, and would undoubtedly have committed some

extravagant Action, had he not been restrained, more by the Sanctity of the Place, than the Perswasions of all

the Religious, who were now come about him. Leonora stirr'd not off her Knees all this time, but continued

'Ah! Ungrateful and Undutiful Wretch (cry'd he) 'how hast thou requited all my Care and Tenderness of thee?

Now when I might have expected some return of Comfort, to throw thy self away upon an unknown Person,

and, for ought I know, a Villain; to me I'm sure he is a Villain, who has robb'd me of my Treasure, my

Darling Joy, and all the future Happiness of my Life prevented. Gogo, thou nowto beforgotten

Leonora, go and enjoy thy unprosperous Choice; you who wanted not a Father's Counsel, cannot need, or else

These last Words were spoken with so much Passion and feeling Concern, that Leonora, moved with Excess

of Grief, fainted at his Feet, just as she had caught hold to Embrace his Knees. The Old Man would have

shook her off, but Compassion and Fatherly Affection came upon him in the midst of his Resolve, and melted

him into Tears, he Embraced his Daughter in his Arms, and wept over her, while they endeavoured to restore

Hippolito was in such Concern he could not speak, but was busily employed in rubbing and chafing her

Temples; when she opening her Eyes laid hold of his Arm, and cry'd outOh my Aurelianhow unhappy

have you made me! With that she had again like to have fainted away, but he took her in his Arms, and

begg'd Don Mario to have some pity on his Daughter, since by his Severity she was reduced to that

Condition. The Old Man hearing his Daughter name Aurelian, was a little revived, and began to hope Things

were in a pretty good Condition; he was perswaded to comfort her, and having brought her wholly to her self,

was content to hear her Excuse, and in a little time was so far wrought upon as to beg Hippolito's Pardon for

The Night was spent in this Conflict, and it was now clear Day, when Don Mario Conducting his new Son

and Daughter through the Garden, was met by some Servants of the Marquess of Viterbo, who had been

enquiring for Donna Leonora, to know if Juliana had lately been with her; for that she was missing from her

Father's House, and no conjectures could be made of what might become of her. Don Mario and Leonora

were surprized at the News, for he knew well enough of the Match that was design'd for Juliana; and having

enquired where the Marquess was, it was told him, That he was gone with Don Fabio and Fabritio toward

Aurelian's Lodgings. Don Mario having assured the Servants that Juliana had not been there, dismissed them,

and advised with his Son and Daughter how they should undeceive the Marquess and Don Fabio in their

Expectations of Aurelian. Hippolito could oftentimes scarce forbear smiling at the old Man's Contrivances

who was most deceived himself; he at length advised them to go all down together to his Lodging, where he

would present himself before his Father, and ingenuously confess to him the truth, and he did not question his

This was agreed to, and the Coach made ready. While they were upon their way, Hippolito pray'd heartily

that his Friend Aurelian might be at the Lodging, to satisfie Don Mario and Leonora of his Circumstances

and Quality, when he should be obliged to discover himself. His Petitions were granted; for Don Fabio had

Upon the arrival of Don Mario and Hippolito, they heard a great Noise and Hubbub above Stairs, which Don

Mario concluded was occasioned by their not finding Aurelian, whom he thought he could give the best

account of: So that it was not in Hippolito's power to disswade him from going up before to prepare his

Father to receive and forgive him. While Hippolito and Leonora were left in the Coach at the Door, he made

himself known to her, and begg'd her pardon a thousand times for continuing the deceit. She was under some

concern at first to find she was still mistaken; but his Behaviour, and the Reasons he gave, soon reconciled

him to her; his Person was altogether as agreeable, his Estate and Quality not at all inferiour to Aurelian's; in

the mean time, the true Aurelian who had seen his Father, begg'd leave of him to withdraw for a moment; in

which time he went into the Chamber where his Incognita was dressing her self, by his design, in Woman's

Apparel, while he was consulting with her how they should break the matter to his Father; it happened that

Don Mario came up Stairs where the Marquess and Don Fabio were; they undoubtedly concluded him Mad,

to hear him making Apologies and Excuses for Aurelian, whom he told them if they would promise to

forgive he would present before them immediately. The Marquess asked him if his Daughter had lain with

Leonora that Night; he answered him with another question in behalf of Aurelian. In short, they could not

understand one another, but each thought 'tother beside himself. Don Mario was so concern'd that they would

not believe him, that he ran down Stairs and came to the Door out of Breath, desiring Hippolito that he would

come into the House quickly, for that he could not perswade his Father but that he had already seen and spoke

to him. Hippolito by that understood that Aurelian was in the House; so taking Leonora by the Hand, he

followed Don Mario, who led him up into the DiningRoom, where they found Aurelian upon his Knees,

begging his Father to forgive him, that he could not agree to the Choice he had made for him, since he had

already disposed of himself, and that before he understood the designs he had for him, which was the reason

that he had hitherto concealed himself. Don Fabio knew not how to answer him, but look'd upon the

Marquess, and the Marquess upon him, as if the Cement had been cool'd which was to have united their

All was silent, and Don Mario for his part took it to be all Conjuration; he was coming forward to present

Hippolito to them, when Aurelian spying his Friend, started from his Knees and ran to embrace himMy

dear Hippolito (said he) what happy chance has brought you hither, just at my Necessity? Hippolito pointed

to Don Mario and Leonora, and told him upon what terms he came. Don Mario was ready to run mad, hearing

him called Hippolito, and went again to examine his Daughter. While she was informing him of the truth, the

Marquess's Servants returned with the melancholy News that his Daughter was no where to be found. While

the Marquess and Don Fabritio were wondering at, and lamenting the Misfortune of her loss, Hippolito came

towards Don Fabio and interceded for his Son, since the Lady perhaps had withdrawn her self out of an

Aversion to the Match. Don Fabio, though very much incens'd, yet forgot not the Respect due to Hippolito's

Quality; and by his perswasion spoke to Aurelian, though with a stern Look and angry Voice, and asked him

where he had disposed the cause of his Disobedience, if he were worthy to see her or no; Aurelian made

answer, That he desired no more than for him to see her; and he did not doubt a Consequence of his

Approbation and ForgivenessWell (said Don Fabio) you are very conceited of your own Discretion, let us

see this Rarety. While Aurelian was gone in for Incognita, the Marquess of Viterbo and Don Fabritio were

taking their leaves in great disorder for their loss and disappointment; but Don Fabio entreated their stay a

moment longer till the return of his Son. Aurelian led Incognita into the Room veil'd, who seeing some

Company there which he had not told her of, would have gone back again. But Don Fabio came bluntly

forwards, and ere she was aware, lifted up her Veil and beheld the Fair Incognita, differing nothing from

Juliana, but in her Name. This discovery was so extreamly surprizing and welcome, that either Joy or

Amazement had tied up the Tongues of the whole Company. Aurelian here was most at a loss, for he knew

not of his Happiness; and that which all along prevented Juliana's confessing her self to him, was her

knowing Hippolito (for whom she took him) to be Aurelian's Friend, and she feared if he had known her, that

he would never have consented to have deprived him of her. Juliana was the first that spoke, falling upon her

Knees to her Father, who was not enough himself to take her up. Don Fabio ran to her, and awakened the

Marquess, who then embraced her, but could not yet speak. Fabritio and Leonora strove who should first take

her in their Arms; for Aurelian he was out of his wits for Joy, and Juliana was not much behind him, to see

how happily their Loves and Duties were reconciled. Don Fabio embraced his Son and forgave him. The

Marquess and Fabritio gave Juliana into his hands, he received the Blessing upon his Knees; all were

overjoy'd, and Don Mario not a little proud at the discovery of his SoninLaw, whom Aurelian did not fail

to set forth with all the ardent Zeal and Eloquence of Friendship. Juliana and Leonora had pleasant Discourse

about their unknown and mistaken Rivalship, and it was the Subject of a great deal of Mirth to hear Juliana

relate the several Contrivances which she had to avoid Aurelian for the sake of Hippolito.

Having diverted themselves with many Remarks upon the pleasing surprize, they all thought it proper to

attend upon the Great Duke that Morning at the Palace, and to acquaint him with the Novelty of what had

pass'd; while, by the way, the two Young Couple entertained the Company with the Relation of several