Cupid retire,  
What wouldst desire?  
Our flaming hearts  
are both afire.    


THE TWO LANCASHIRE LOVERS, OR The Excellent History of PHILOCLES and DORICLEA  
This holy vow  
Makes one of two.  
LONDON. Printed by E.G. for R. Best and are to be sold at his shop near Gray Inn gate in Houlbourne.    

THE TWO LANCASHIRE LOVERS: OR The Excellent History OF PHILOCLES AND DORICLEA.  
Expressing The faithful constancy and mutual fidelity of two loyal Lovers. Stored with no less variety of discourse To delight the Generous, then of serious advice to instruct the Amorous.  
By Musaeus Palatinus.  
Pereo, si taceo.  
LONDON, Printed by Edward Griffin. For R. B. or his Assigns. 1640.   

TO MY TRULY GENEROUS and ●udicious Friend, ALEXANDER RIGBY Esq. Clerk of the Crown for the County Palatine of Lancaster; the perusal of this History; wherein the Subjects of love and loyalty are recorded, to the honour of their Country.  
SIR, I here present you with two native Plants of your own Country; Branches derived front a fair and flourishing Family. Give them entertainment according to their merit; whose memory redounds highly to their Country's glory.  
really Alexandro-philus.   

The Argument, with the Division of this History.  
IN the first Chapter he treats: 

I.  
Of the Descent and Parentage of Doriclea.   

II.  
Of the Education of Doriclea.   

III.  
How her Parents, treasuring their hopes, and addressing their cares on her sought to bestow her.   

IV.  
How Camillus became her Suitor, and how she rejected him through distaste of his breeding.   

V.  
How Mardanes a rich country Chuff solicited her affection: and how he laboured to procure her love by indirect means; when the proffers of a fair personal estate could not do it.   

VI  
How Philocles, whom her Parents had entretained for her Schoolmaster, took occasion privately, but shadowingly, to impart his affection to her: and with what seeming scorn his moiton was received.   

VII.  
The discourse Doriclea used next day at Table, being encouraged 〈◊〉 her Parent's indulgence: alleging by way of argument, that she wond● red how Julia, Augustus his Daughter, could detract so much from her Princely descent, a● to entertain least thought of loving Ovid; & how a Schoolmaster durst attempt the solicitancy of an Emperor's Daughter.   

VIII.  
The fear Philocles was in, lest Doriclea should discover his suit to her Parents. Which Doriclea, though she had made choice of that argument, only to affright him, never intended, being more affectionately disposed then either her appearance made show of, or any expression had as yet discovered.   

IX.  
The intercursive Letters passing betwixt Philocles and Doriclea: and how she begins to impart by Pen, what she had before conceited in thought: and how she desired nothing so much as the accomplishment of their love, so privacy might give leave.   

X.  
What Plots Doriclea devised to partake in private meetings and treaties with her Philocles: and how by the jealousy of Euryclea, her Mother, she was prevented.   

XI.  
The passions of Doriclea: and how she conversed with her own thoughts in the election of her love: inveighing against such ungrounded fancies, who measure affection rather by strength of alliance, portion, or any other respect, than the pure effects of love.   

XII.  
How Doriclea, being deprived all means of imparting the constancy of her zeal to Philocles: having neither the benefit of Ink nor Paper, to discover her loyal intimate thoughts to her faithful lover: she supplied that want with her Needle, sowing her mind in Letters of Gold, and returning them in the border of an Handkerchief.   

XIII.  
Philocles' restraint, with those passionate effects, which their enforced absence one from th' other produced. He finds love ever most violent, when farthest divided from his Object: yet amidst these disgusts he adviseth her to patience in his restraint. Confirming himself so individually hers, as nothing may abridge the accomplishment of their desires, but death.   

XIV.  
Doriclea understands by an aged Hermit, of Mardanes practice: how he intends to enjoy her by indirect means. And how the Spells of Spurcina, the Enchantress, with whom Mardanes contracted, were ever frustrated by the devout morning exercise of Doriclea: signing herself every morn in her going abroad with the sign of the Cross, a sovereign receipt against Spurcina's charm.   

XV.  
How Doriclea practised with Mellida her Maid for her escape. How she sought to delude her Mother: her prevention: And how Androgeus her Father became enraged upon the discovery of her affection.   

XVI.  
How Mellida one morning unwarily lets fall her Glove; whereon Spurcina the Enchantress practiseth; supposing it to be Doriclea's. Mellida falls in love with Mardanes: and discloseth her passion to her Mistress: who promiseth her best assistance.   

XVII.  
Mellida's passionate love.   

XVIII.  
Philocles procures his liberty: and by a faithful Messenger, though to his apparent danger, privately acquaints Doriclea with his delivery: and assigning her a place whereto she might safely repair, if she could possibly make escape.   

XIX.  
Doriclea by the advice and assistance of Mellida gets from her Keepers: and in her flight by night loseth her way: but coming by chance to the Hermit's house, where she took that night her repose: as, she had formerly been directed by him, she received much comfort from him, being conducted to the place which Philocles advised her to.   

XX.  
The great content & joy which these two long divided Lovers conceived one of the others presence: The relation of their former griefs being an addition to their present joys.   

XXI.  
They take the advice of Solinus that faithful Hermit, what course were best to take in a case of such extremity: he adviseth the privately to solemnize that Rite, which their long affection had confirmed in heart.   

XXII.  
How these constant Lovers were hindered upon the very point of Solemnisation of their Marriage, by the intelligence and pursuit of her incensed Father Androgeus: who with a strong prepared troop entered the house where these two unfortunate Lovers sojourned: And how, by the Hermit's device, Philocles to prevent his fury, was privately conveyed.   

XXIII.  
Androgeus brings back his Daughter; the entertainment given her by her Mother.   

XXIV.  
Doriclea labours to free her Mother from all jealousy touching her love to Philocles; pretending, that he had voluntarily made himself a banished man to his country, through fear of their fury and enmity.   

XXV.  
Philocles writes a Letter to Androgeus, as directed from beyond the Seas: wherein he humbly craves his pardon, for his too bold attempting his Daughter's affection. How his present austere penitential life shall witness to the world his repudiation of all light love. How his devotions now were reserved for Heaven, and had no communion with Earth. And that the choice he had now made, should during life admit no change.   

XXVI.  
Doriclea falls (or seemingly falls) into a Fever; each day seems to increase her distemper. Eschites, an experienced Physician, is sent for to apply his best art in a case of such extremity: but he, an intimate Friend to Philocles, made show as if he despaired of her recovery. And that no malady arising from fancy, could without enjoyment of the Object loved, receive remedy.   

XXVII.  
The Parents of Doriclea conceive incessant grief for their distempered Daughter; they bemoan their neglect of Philocles, and disesteem of his love: but they find no hope of relief to their languishing Daughter, seeing the means of her cure was reported to have entered a Regular Order.   

XXVIII.  
Eschites undertakes, upon the promise of their acceptance, to use his best endeavour for calling Philocles homeward; and that he is resolved, how Philocles time of Probation will be quickly relinquished, when he shall hear least hope of enjoying his Doriclea's affection.   

XXIX.  
Androgeus hears how Philocles, besides his other native endowments, was descended of a generous Family; which inflames his desires more to see him return into his Country. He vows never to oppose this solemnity, so his presence may cure her infirmity.   

XXX.  
Philocles returns home; and is accepted by the Parents for their Son in law: this revives their seeming distempered Daughter; yet fearing still a relapse of her Parent's acceptance, she feigns the continuance of her distemper.   

XXXI.  
The Marriage is solemnised; and with such privacy, as known to none but their own Family. Valeria, who was supposed to be Euphilus Page, discovers herself to be Philocles Sister; with whose consent Euphilus marries her, being long before privately affianced to her.   

XXXII.  
The occasion of this private solemnisation: and how Mellida, by the advice of her Mistress Doriclea, assuming her name and habit, writ to Mardanes, how she preferred him in the choice of affection before any other; acquaintiug him how in a private disguise to prevent danger, and her Parent's displeasure, she would meet him, when and where in a lawful Nuptial way, he might enjoy her.   

XXXIII.  
The Plot holds; Mardanes rejoices infinitely at his unexpected happiness; thanks his Spurcina for her well-spelled practice; and infeoffs his unknown Bride (though much against his will) in his riches.     

THE TWO LANCASHIRE LOVERS; OR THE EXCELLENT HISTORY OF PHILOCLES and DORICLEA.  

CHAP. I.  
Of the Descent and Parentage of Doriclea.  
Near to that ancient Town of famous and time-honoured Gaunt; for her antiquity of Site no less memorably recorded, then for those eminent actions of her princely progenitors, renowned; there sometimes dwelled one Audrogeus, a Gentleman of approved esteem: having borne offices of account and quality under his Sovereign: wherein he ever demeaned himself to persons of all conditions with such equity and equality, as none knew him, but accounted him an honour and ornament to his Country. This Gentleman took to wife one Euryclea, of good descent: a woman excellently endowed with many choice and select virtues: so as, those exquisite parts wherewith she was graced, expressed to her Country the native worth of that family, from whence she descended. These two, amongst other worldly blessings, wherewith God's providence had singularly enriched them, were made happy in an hopeful progeny. And of th●se, in a virtuous, discreet and religious Daughter called Doriclea; one, whose fame admitted no blemish; whom as Nature had beautified with many extraordinary graces, so her careful Parents were no less ready to adorn those native se●ds, with such Education as might accomplish those promising beginnings. For which purpose, They provided her of such Masters, as might fit her in all generous Sciences. One for music, dancing, and a proper or graceful posture; another for her Needle; another for knowledge of the Tongues. Nothing was awanting her that might confer the least light or lustre to so fair and well-composed a temper. Nor was she less apt to receive, nor firm to retain whatsoever was taught her. For she was of a docile and industrious disposition: affecting nothing more than to learn, nor distasting anything more than to glory in aught that she had perfectly learned.  
Nor was it strange that so much care or cost should be bestowed upon her: considering, she was the only daughter, and consequently the darling of her Mother. One, in whom she treasured many fair hopes▪ and for whose future preferment she enlarged a provident care. For high were the aims at which they leveled her Fortunes: being as curious in their choice, as she in her prime flower of youth resolute, never to exchange her estate.  
Her desires were confined to an harmless ambition of knowledge: she measured no day without a line: bestowing so well the Lamp of her life, as she was ever casting forth some light or other to enlarge the Prospect of her inner house. For the highest pitch of her emulation was, in a pious imitation of such as had descended from her house, to accommodate her more knowing abilities. In a fair resemblance of that noble Roman Virgin, who made this her resolution: That her Life and Knowledge should manifest to the world, that she was the true Daughter of such Parents: and that her house received no derogation from her, from which she had her beginning. Truth is, her Family, as it was worthily to be ranked with the best: so had it brought forth many eminent scienes, whose thriving plantation had conferred much honour on their Nation. Amongst which ONE, who though he seemed a professed Favourite to all youthful pleasures; and as sociable in his ways, and pleasantly discursive as if he had been a downright Agent of the time, preferring his pleasures before any other private mental employment: yet did it appear unto the world, that he enjoyed more divine parts then a vulgar judgement could either judge or take notice of. For sundry excellent Works tasting both of Lamp and Judgement were by him composed, though under an others name published: which expressed the ability of his pen, and the affected privacy of his mind.  
Nor could she reflect upon the excellence of their parts who had derived their prime beginnings from her House: but out of a virtuous emulation she held it a derivative duty to imitate them: though not in such exactness as might seem to equal their perfection: yet in a well disposed Zeal to fit herself with the best accommodations and provision she could, to draw near them in imitation.  
Nor is it to be doubted, but native seeds and sprinklings of goodness propagate themselves to posterity: and beget in their successors not only a desire, but ability to imitate and retain, what their Predecessors in their commendable lives expressed. For though Wit nor Learning be no feffements of Fortune: yet shall we find in the posterity of prompt and pregnant Parents, most commonly resemblances of that quickness and preparedness in their children, which being seconded by constant and continued desires to imitate whatsoever they see worthily observed, or observably presented: (Will and Power becoming such equal concomitants and assistants) cannot but produce some notable effect: as might be instanced in none better than in this our Doriclea; who directed all her actions to the improvement of her honour, as in the whole Course of her Education you shall perceive hereafter.   

CHAP. II.  
Of the Education of Doriclea.  
mines low laid are ever the richest: yet the purest Ore, retains something of Earth, till it be refined. There is no Creature so pregnant, or for native parts so enabled; but wanting the refinement of Education, all that precious Ore which it derived from Nature is but in the lump, till Education have searched, purged and refined it from all those mouldy and brackish mixtures or interveynings of Earth: that native source from whence it produced its first form.  
Never did Nature bestow her gifts in an ampler measure nor fuller manner than she streamed them upon those noble Roman Matrons, Cornelia, Aurelia. Lelia, Paula, Portia, Octavia, Sulpitia, Virginia, Lucretia: Excellent were their endowments: full of genuine worth their natural ornaments; yet had all these lost much of their beauty, had they rested so and derived from Art no lustre to accomplish that beauty.  
This moved the Parents of those virtuous Matrons, to ripen these seeds which Nature had so freely bestowed, with these graceful beamelings of Art, to perfect that which Nature had planted, and accomplish what so loving a mother had moulded.  
Never had that brave Berenice won so much ground, nor gained such command in the eye of her beholder; Neither had that stately presence of majestic Sophonisba made an imperial heart captive to her smile; Nor that love-attracting Cleopatra soveraignized so much upon such princely Commanders: had not something more than the gifts of Nature accompanied them. These, as they had a sufficient portion of beauty to take the Sense: so had their Education so exactly polished those outward parts, as they wrought strangely upon the Conceit. For to be seen in Music; to express a singular grace in the Carriage of a dance; to discourse with an unaffected eloquence; to have judgement to distinguish of those divine airs and active strains of Poesy; Lastly, not only to relate▪ but to reconcile difference in relations of History; These are they, which far above all outward Fairs attract love, and promise a Continuance so long; as no new Choice may procure ● Change: nor suffer the least surreptitious Conceit of any foreign fancy to seize on their enamoured breasts: having made such a virtuous and divine Choice, as it were impiety to dream of a Change.  
These were the principal motives which induced Androgeus and Euryclea, the tender Parents of Doryclea, to provide for her such Masters as might accomplish her by their Principles of breeding, in such distinct knowledges as might best suit with her condition; and express her with most winning grace in the sight of such with whom she consorted.  
Nor were these, to whose direction she was committed, more serious in teaching, nor exact in practising, than she was quick in receiving, and firm in retaining.  
For her Muslcuke, though naturally she stood not affected to it▪ being rather addicted to retiredness and privacy; yet seeing it was her Parents desire, she declined from her own will, to satisfy their command to whom she ought herself. And herein she grew such a proficient, as none with more variety and less affectation ever wrought upon the affection.  
Yet would she never be moved to discover her perfection in this kind, in any public place: so far she was from ostentation, and so humbly affected, as whereinsoever she was praised, she imputed it to an over esteem of their opinion who praised her; retaining ever that modest conceit, or rather disesteem of her own abilities, as ever redounded more to her honour.  
To repeat sundry Cantzonets and enlivened measures composed by herself (were it not too digressive from the Scope and Object of our History) I should here address my pen: But my aim shall be rather briefly to shadow, then to draw out to the full body the presentment of so excellent a piece.  
Howsoever, those who were of judgement have confirmed thus much for her: That never was instrument married to voice with more harmony, than it was, when exercised by Doriclea.  
Nor was she less graceful in her Posture or Carriage: retaining such a modest-virgin state; as those who observed her, could neither tax her of scorn, nor of too careless neglect. Affable she could be without being childish: and keep her distance without arrogance. Never could there appear more graceful state in a more humble heart: desiring ever rather to serve others in their virtuous designs, then to observe others rendering her praise for her deserts. Neither was she so carried away with these, as to forget what might better sort with her quality, and what might longer attend her, than these Eare-charming airs of harmony.  
For her Needle, she made Dorcas her Pattern: she was ever tasking herself to some work or other: wherein she made Charity her object, by preparing for the naked a Cover.  
Lastly, for knowledge in Tongues (though most men be of opinion that one is enough for any woman) she profited so exceedingly, as she retained the very accent and sound with such propriety, as she became more easily to be admired then imitated; and herein more admired, by how much her Elocution was free, native and unaffected.  
Thus in all these became Doriclea an incomparable proficient: so that, as she brought with her into the world an excellent disposition in affecting what was good and meriting applause: so had the improvement of her Education so accomplished her, as no expression received life from her, which deserved not due praise.   

CHAP. III.  
How her Parents, treasuring their hopes, and addressing their Cares on her, sought to bestow her.  
NAture is no less ready to advance, then produce; to bring up, then bring forth; to take care for their well-being, than their first being.  
This we see exemplified in every Creature, who out of a tender-native intimacy, prepares for the supportance, succour and sustenance of those young Ones who are bred of her.  
Which Care extends and dilates itself more amply to Creatures endowed with reason: who, as they are the noblest of all others in respect of their Image and feature: so are they more apprehensive of the necessities of their own by course of Nature.  
It is true indeed what that Divine Moral sometimes observed, far more certain is a Parents care then the share of his Comfort; yet, so delightful is the constancy of this care, being directed to them, and for their improvement whom they so tenderly love, that their Care becomes a Solace, their watchful Providence a cheerful Expense of so many choice and select hours for the advancement of their own.  
This induced the Careful Parents of our accomplished Doriclea, to bestow their best endeavours in providing a Convenient match for their Daughter; in whom they had treasured so rich hopes, as her reverend fear and filial obedience promised nothing less than much comfort to their age, from those prime expressions of her youth. Neither were the favourites of her fame (mounted on the wings of virtue) less slow in performing those fair Offices which so excellent a Creature merited. For as her irreproveable demeanour, retained ever amongst her familiars, passages highly conducing to her honour: So those, who knew her not but by report, retained no less strength nor vigour of desire to court so incomparable a Mistress, whom the fame of her virtues with other personal endowments had so fairly displayed.  
Beauty, said the ancient Lyric, could not want Corrivals: but when Virtue presents herself to make the house beautiful throughout, it cannot but attract many Surveyors. Unless the judgements of men become so miserably deluded and distracted, as that young debauched Gallant was, who could not endure the presence of his Mistress because she was virtuous.  
But pure and refined judgements who make their Choice not wholly by the outward semblance, or that skinne-deepe beauty, which the winter of age no sooner rivels, than she surrenders her glory: but by those inward perfections, which would make Zenophanes himself to be a wooer: fix mainly upon that which makes fancy truly happy. And both these might a stayed affection find stored and treasured in Doriclea: Being such an one, as to describe her truly, she was fair without art, and in that native beauty, retained such a winning favour, as she did nothing but what did infinitely become her. Tall she was not, but of that equal stature, as her well-tempered proportion could neither tax her of too much, nor accuse Nature of taking her measure too little. To use Hyperboles, I hate it: yea, and in so exquisite a Subject, as the spreading fame of her own actions might seem Hyperboles unto others, holding themselves so unfit to aspire to such perfections: or too far short to retain the least hope of seconding them in any proportionable measure of imitation.  
But howsoever, the careful Parents of Doriclea aimed at nothing more than to bestow her on some person of quality, that in an equal line of love and merit their affections might close: and make every day sound like a marriage day in the joint Correspondence of their affectionate Choice: Doriclea, ever endowed with a native modesty, pretended to her Parents the tenderness of her youth, or her indisposition to health, purposely to protract time: whereas, indeed, it was the averseness of her mind from a married life: desiring rather under the tender tuition of her Parents to bestow her youth, then to fix her fancy on any. For that constant affection she retained to privacy (as I formerly told you) rebaited the heat of Love's assaults. Neither did she desire without much instancy to frequent any public meeting: but rather to exercise her mind in reading or discoursing with some of her intimate acquaintance; with whom she lived and conversed in such sweet and familiar manner, as their delightful Society estranged her thoughts from the thought of a Lover. But her Parents, ever harping upon one string; expounded all this averseness and declining of hers to a modest bashful shame, which would in time wear out, and set a better face upon the proffers of Love. And sometimes they would not stick privately to take their daughter underhand advising her to entertain a Fortune whilst it was tendered; and how it was their sole Care that she might be advanced and preferred to her liking. How they grew old, and to leave her to the wide World, could not choose but perplex them. Then would they nominate divers young gentlemen, whose estates and descents might deserve her entertainment. But no Rhetoric could be more dissorting or discording to her ear. The discourse of a Nuptial rite was so disrelishing a note, as there was no air she affected less; apprehending such content in her present virgin state, as to live and die therein, she desired nothing more.  
But this must not serve her turn; privacy must give way to fancy: a retired Lawn to a discourse of Love. By her Mother's provident Care, she must learn to study the care of a Mother; Otherwise, this estranging her thoughts from giving way to fancy, will be interpreted a peevish kind of pertinacy.  
Suppose her then rather out of an enforced direction, than any freebred affection, entering parley with a Suitor; whose quality how unequally it suited or sorted with her disposition, in whom Art and Nature had wrought such perfection, you shall perceive hereafter.   

CHAP. IU.  
How Camillus became her Suitor, and how she rejected him through distaste of his breeding.  
CHoice begets Care: in which Choice, it many times happens that the best are rejected, while persons of meaner condition are admitted. You may imagine that Doriclea cannot want for store, being so excellently accommodated both for outward endowments and promising estate. Where Portion and Proportion meet, they cannot but be attractive Objects to any one that either affects profit or pleasure. For the Worldling, as his first love-question is, What he's she? wherein if he fail in his expectance, his affection is so weakly feathered, as his flight is but short, because his desires of having were long. So the voluptuous or sensual Amorist, who makes sense to usher judgement; his only question is; Is she an handsome wench? His fancy is in his eye. He cannot have enough of beauty; wherein should the object whereto he is presented, be in any sort defective: his love as it derived his first light from sense: so it expires at first sight. He will not give his judgement leave to converse with her; to see what inward beauty may inwardly accomplish her.  
A feather of this wing was our penne-feathered Camillus, whereof we are now to discourse: a right Lapwing, who had left his nest before he ●●ad shaken the shell from his head. Howsoever, on he must to be a Suitor, before he has well learned how to spell Lover. Something of Sense he he's in him; and this informs him, that love is a fine thing: but what use to make of that Fairing he knows not. A fault, I must confess, so epidemical, as to many marriages become infected with this Colts-evill. This made that experienced Sage complain so much of these indiscreet hare-brained Couple, that I wonder, quoth he, that every Age begets not a new Bedlam.  
This Camillus, being one whom Fortune had more favoured, than his Parent's Education had qualified, became admitted amongst others of the same List, to this too deserving a Choice for such a Changeling. A right Changeling! Not for Changing his affection to his Choice: for he had never as yet attained to such happiness, as to aspire to the Title of a Servant, or to be styled the deserving favourite of a Mistress. But in that he seemed as if he had been changed in the Cradle: for so unlike he was to those from whom he had descended, as never appeared any Sprig more ingenerous, derived from so free and fruitful a Stock.  
This unseemly lover, or amorous Lubber, being put on by his mother to advance him forward to this match; addresseth his ill-speeding course to our incomparable Doriclea: and as one, who had never been bred in the Court of Compliment, nor of Manners neither, in his rustic way thus accoasteth her: and that I may less err in his dialect or form of speech, I shall use his own country tone, though I cannot so well personate his posture, which no doubt, conferred on this Swaineling no less honour.  

Camillus' Speech to Doriclea.  
YAw, jantlewoman, with the saffron snude, you shall know that I am Master▪ Camillus, my Mothers anely white boy. And she wad han you of all loves to wad me: And you shall han me for your tougher. We han store of goodly cattle: for horn, hare, and leather, peep here and peep there, awe the wide dale is but snever to them. My Mother, though she be a vixon, she will blenke blithely on you for my Cause: And we will ga to the Dawns, and Slubber up a Syllabub: and I will look babbies in your eyes, and pick silly-cornes out of yaur toes: And we will han a Whiskin at every rush-bearing; a Wassell Cup at yule; a Seed-cake at Fastens; and a lusty Cheesecake at our Sheepe-wash. And will not awe this done bravely, jantlewoman?   
How this strange kind of wooing might promise itself any hope of winning, I leave to your judgements who know the Art and Posture of Suiting: but how it relished her discreet ear, may sufficiently appear by this answer to her homespun Suitor.  

Doricleas' answer to Camillus.  
PRetty Servant! you tell me your mother sent you to wed me; but of all loves you must stay till the banes be asked: and perchance before the third time of ask you will be of an other mind. Fie young Gentleman, will such a brave spark as you, that is your Mother's White-boy undo your hopes, in marrying such a Country joan as I am?  
Besides, what know you but I may prove untoward, and that will bring your Mother to her Grave; make you (pretty babe) put finger i'th' eye, and turn the door quite off the hinges. Nay, besides all this; how will you brook to hear shrieking of a Child, and rocking of a Cradle? The stalling of a wife, the scolding of a Nurse, with a pad in the straw, and a nest of hornets buzzing through all the house? Return then my sweet amorous Servant, the same way you came: be wise before you leap, and then I hope you will not leap at all. Marriage is a mad age, how can it then sort or suit with you, that has so much Sage in your pate? Be a good Child, and keep yourself from the rod, and I hope I shall never bring you to so unhappy a Lot.   
Simple Camillus took this for good Counsel: nor did his weake-fledged fancy inspire him with any fresh reply: home he goes to his mother like a soone-rebaited Suitor: for as his affection received life only from an others direction: without any preceding grounds of discretion, so it as quickly expired, being so weakly and Childishly grounded.  
Upon whose departure, Doriclea begun thus to expostulate with herself not without pleasure, this rude encounter of her white-livered suitor: descanting on all his uncivil passages in this manner.  
What an excellent purchase, 
Doricleas' expostulation touching Camillus.  Doriclea, mightst thou enjoy in this Gooseling? One of competent fortunes; and of a disposition so pliable, as one might easily mould him to their own bent. One, that no question, some of our wanton Gallants would not stick to admit; nor be dainty to entertain for a Servant; nay, for a Consort; merely to shroud their own shame, or to maintain their bravery with the revenues of his decreasing estate. He would supply the place well enough of a servile Usher, with an affected grace to carry her Misset; open her pew; go before her in the Street, and keep his distance; or conduct her more peculiar Servant by a posterne-gate to her licentious Lodging. But are these the fruits of wedlock? Must an husband be made a stale to sin, or an inlet to his own shame? O no Doriclea! Virtuous affection cannot incline to such pollution.  
Those, who make Choice of Husbands, purposely to make them their slaves, are domestic Tyrants. Those, who make choice for profit, make filth and ordure their sole object of Conjugal honour. Those, who receive a Servant into their bosom, because he is eminent in place, make local precedency the ground of their fancy, which cannot but close in distaste, when an higher Corrival shall ascend his place.  
But none of these merit the stile of love. Heaven's bless me! How should the reasonable Soul (unless all his prime faculties were drowned and drenched in the lees of sense) affect such a Swad, whose elocution sucked from the dug, and whose formality taken from the Cowsheard, taste so little of love, as discretion would not endure to bestow on it so pure a name? For say, Doriclea, is it possible to purchase fancy with a sheepish story? or with a foolish relation of. what fortunes had dropped down upon them? And such was Camillus his encounter: proper ornaments for a Suitor.  
Well, if ever fancy seize on me; which is, as yet, far estranged from me, I hope to fix on such a Choice, as these weak respects shall never appear to be the sole aim of my affection. For to love, where Discretion bids me loath, were an unhappy fortune: such a marriage day, were a Tragic day; introducing no other Scenes than presentments of discomfort to an unfortunate Consort. But why do I suffer my thoughts to converse with love; seeing I have had so little familiarity with it all my life? Hitherto have I been devoted to privacy; wherein I have ever reaped such absolute content, as to forgo it, or with some other condition to exchange it, were to lose myself, and deprive an enlarged mind of that freedom which the whole Empire of love cannot afford.  
Thus expostulated Doriclea with herself, touching this affectionate tender of Camillus. Whose choice indeed her Parents did not much approve; because his shallow Conceit made him altogether incapable of love. So as, Doriclea might well enough dispense with this Match: and live in expectance of a more equal and generous Mate.   

CHAP. V.  
How Mardanes a rich Country Chuff solicited her affection: and how ●e laboured to procure her love by indirect means; when the proffers of a fair personal estate could not do it.  
WEalth is ever a strong Agent for enforced marriages. Whereon there shines ever an ominous star; there sits still an heavy fate. But whence comes this; but either from avaricious Parents, who prefer fortunes before all other more deserving abilities: holding him only worthy to be their son on whom the Sun does shine? or from the wanton affection, or too profuse expense of light Mistresses; who make Choice of rich Servants to make Sponges of them? Their long bestowed providence must be employed in affording to their disdainful Consorts, excess of maintenance.  
And these kinds of coy Amorists, for most part, use to articulate and indent with those they intent to marry; in what rank they shall be maintained; how accoutred; in what manner accommodated; what place they may by right challenge. Coach and Caroche gaudily distinguished, must be forthwith provided: a Summer-house sumptuously furnished, with such conveyances, as her rich Chuff might visibly see, were not his deluded eyes ever fixed on his Hidropick Chest, what she intends hereafter, by those private passages contrived in each corner.  
But neither did the Parents of Doriclea stand so much engaged to any worldly respect, as it had power to attract their affections to it; nor was Doriclea so earthly-bred, as to make Fortune the sole and absolute Object of her fancy: which might be instanced in nothing more fully then in the entertainment of her next Suitor, whereof we are to discourse as it falls now upon our History, in this manner.  
There was one Mardanes, a rich Grazier; one, who had all his time fed on the better side o'th' bush. This rich Chrone, who made an Idol of his Coin, made suit to Doriclea, to obtain her love. Rich and mighty proffers he made her; pretending to throw himself and Fortunes at her feet, so he might enjoy her. Neither did her discreet Parents much oppose it, nor incline to it, but referred all to their Daughter's choice: preferring her liking before any other temporary proposition. But how weakly this Mardanes proceeded, and how unprosperously he succeeded, shall appear by the issue: which fell so crossly to his expectance, imagining his rich and plenteous estate to be an Adamant attractive enough to the dullest fancy, as he inverted the means of proceeding directly, to an odious and impious practice; seeking to procure her love by means of Sorcery.  
Suppose him then first, after his long sollicitancie had received a repulse, contesting in this sort with his affections: the grounds whereof as they were weakly planted, so were they as unhappily closed.  
What; 
Mardanes Passion upon his Repu●●e.  rejected Mardanes? Has thy worldly policy improved thy fortunes so meanly, as to be contemned in such just and ample proffers of fancy? What would she desire, if any mortal store may raise her to an happiness of estate, which she may not enjoy in making her choice of thee? Yea, but there i● such a disparity in years, as her smooth youth cannot endure these deep furrows of age. Parity ever begets best liking betwixt either party. Whereas her fresh flourishing Prime would brook ill to be embraced by thy sere and sapless arms. Besides, were she never so loyal to thy bed, rumour would not be silent: conceits would be working, and jealous fears in every corner stirring. Report would impeach her, were her continent desires never so restrained, nor to thee confined. It becomes her then, as she tenders her honour, to make choice of such an one who may more equally suit her, and with a fresher and more agile youth better content her.  
Well, than this is all that can be objected why thy suit is not received, thy proffers accepted; thou art old and declining, Mardanes; this age is a terrible bugbear in the eye of fancy. The desire may be strong, but the Lamp is quickly in the snuff. There wants oil to feed it: and if it should cast forth some sparklings, it is soon extinguished.  
By this I gather, it were wisely done in my particular, if I laboured to smother this secret flame, before it increase or break forth in more violence. For by marrying one who expects more than she can find, thou mayst find that which thou never expected. Take heed then lest thy own Dogs know thee not when thou comest home. It is thine own fault if thou fallest into Actaeon's fate. Thy blood is yet uncorrupted, yellows has not tainted it. Thou deservest well to lose the liberty of thy present estate, by making thyself a Slave to one who holds thee unworthy of her choice.  
All this works much with reason; b● who knows not, but a small portion o● reason weighs heaviest in the scale of affection? I confess, I am blame-worthy in my pursuit of such a Mistress, whose fancy 〈◊〉 so far aliened from me, as she relisheth no air worse than what I breathe, no place worse than where I remain, no Motion worse than what I make. I know likewise▪ no Receipt to be more sovereign, no Cordial more useful, than that approved Experiment of an amorous Artist: When ● Man bleeds at the nose, and through abundance of blood is brought in danger of his life, the Physician lets him blood in his arm, to turn the course of the blood an other way. If love issue out in too violent a stream, it is to be cooled by a temperate expostulation with fancy: or else by fixing our eye upon some more attractive Object, divert the course of that madding passion. An excellent Rule, but who can follow it? The Lover is ever blinded with affection towards his beloved. Nor was there ever yet so discreet an Elder, that could both love and become wise together. Excuse then or condemn me who will; seeing I am thus far embarked in Love's adventure, though my aged fancy may bear the name of Dote● age, I will on, or perish with dishonour.  
This strong resolution of Mardanes brought him on to a desperate experiment, as the sequel of our History shall discover: mean time, we will return to our late-solicited Doriclea, and see what plight she is in, since the rejection of this violent Suitor.  
Doriclea having returned Mardanes her express answer; and that with such modesty as beseemed one of her quality; beseeching him to excuse her, in that she could not entertain so deserving a Servant, to whom she stood infinitely obliged for his love, seeing her disposition was altogether averse from the least thought of marriage: but if ever she affected that state, as her hopes could never aspire to such fortunes as he had proffered, so she meant to fix her fancy where it should with equality of years be suited. And so wishing him all happiness (the highest period of his unhappiness) retiring to a private Arbour, she dismissed her discontented 〈◊〉. In which retirement, recollecting these distinct passages and passions of her two relinquished Lovers, she expressed herself thus. 
Doricleas' Resolution.   
Doriclea, thou hast here kindness proffered thee in abundance. One presents his suit, and brings with him plenty of youth, fortunes, folly.  
An other, no less rich in years then estate, cloys thee with golden Mountains of inducing promises: but my rest is already set in the neglect of both these. Fortunes, though youth promise them, cannot engage me, where youth is clothed with folly. Nor shall proffers of honour or preferment surprise me, where disparity of years may beget in our minds the like inequality. As Virtue is my Object: so I doubt not but if ever I change my state, she will find a Consort for me, that may improve my content.  
By this time had her Mother entered the Garden, into an Arbour whereof her Daughter had retired: so as, hearing her Mother call her by her name, she came forth unto her; and upon her demand, imparted unto her the answer she had returned to Mardanes: wherewith her Mother, though she seemed at first to dis-relish it, was inwardly well pleased, desiring rather that her Daughter should bestow herself on one, whose youth might suit with her content, than such an one, whose fortunes though they were great, yet might his age beget in her fancy a contempt.   

CHAP. VI  
How Philocles, whom her Parents had entertained for her Schoolmaster, took occasion privately, but shadowingly, to impart his affection to her: and with what seeming scorn his motion was received.  
AMongst others whom the Parents of Doriclea had entertained to instruct their Daughter in good literature, with other useful Principles sorting well with the accomplishment of one of her quality: there was one Philocles commended to them; whose singular parts deserved approvement with the best. For he had bestowed much precious time, not without answerable profit and improvement, in the University. Where he became for his time such an excellent Proficient▪ as much was expected from him: nor had he doubtless, frustrated their expectance, might he have been partaker of his desires; in residing where he wished, and planting where he so much profited. But his course of Academic Studies became diverted, being called back into the Country. Where he continued not long, till he was preferred to the Family of Androgeus. During all which time, he demeaned himself so commendably, as there was none of what quality so ever, but conceived infinite delight in his company. For his discretion had sufficiently informed him in the distinction of times: when to be grave and serious; when pleasant and ingenious. And though he knew how to argue Syllogistically, and play the Sophister wittily: yet so modest was he in the whole time of his reside there, as he was never observed to press any Argument, no, though urged, without much instancy.  
A rare quality in a Scholar: who, for most part, is apt to make Logic his Subject in each society. Whereas discretion will rather moderate too unseasonable-vehement reasonings in that kind, then become too forward a Champion in entering the List upon every unnecessary occasion.  
Neither had Philocles, of whom we are now to discourse, possessed himself more strongly of the opinion and good conceit of the Parents of Doriclea, who had taken a special observance of the care, industry, and singular modesty of this her Tutor: but that tender tinder of affection became likewise to sparkle a little in that pure Virgin-bosome of Doriclea: Albeit, so composed were her thoughts, so divinely moderate her de●ires, as she choosed rather to smother, and therein suffer for her fancy, then engage her unadvised affection to a public discovery.  
In the same manner did our Philocles suffer; for so constantly had his liking seated itself on the towardly disposition of Doriclea, as now upon the expiration of the years of her tuition, instead of a severe Master, he becomes a sincere Lover. Long had he expected what the issue would be of her late Suitors affectionate encounters: wherein Doriclea had been ever desirous to take his advice: whose counsel, doubtless, would conduce weakly to their avail: and having now perceived, how lightly she entertained such ignoble Servants: and that her discreet fancy seemed rather to aim at personal worth, than the rubbish of Earth: He imagines a fair opportunity to be now offered him of imparting his mind freely to her, in whose purchase he might find stored an incomparable treasure. Revenues he had none to proffer her: having the constant fortunes of a Scholar; which like two Lines meet together in one Centre, equally closing in the fate of a younger Brother. Yet observe his modesty! Many times had he resolved to discover his love, which some contrary passions ever prevented. Sometimes hoping he might prevail, and enjoy what he sought: other sometimes, wholly despairing to reap what his care had sown. Now would he prepare himself for a set speech; but no sooner came he in her presence, then as one driven to an extacie, & wholly deprived of the benefit of memory, he only discovered his fancy by the intentive fixing of his eye: other language he could find none: silent admiration was the sole Orator of his affection. At last, recollecting his love distracted thoughts, and bethinking with himself, with that amorous Youth in the Pastoral, how she whose fancy he besought was but a Woman: and that an unkind repulse was the worst entertainment he could possibly expect, he takes to him heart of grace and after many cold qualms to perplexed Lovers best known, with the best boldness he could, he thus encountered her.  
Scholar shall I call you, 
Philocles' Speech to Doriclea.  or your Master's Mistress? Your years of tuition are now expired: your years have taught you now to learn Woman. And shall I receive no guerdon for my long attendance, save only an acknowledgement of my Service? A great part of the prime of my youth have I here bestowed in your Father's house; where mine highest care was your proficience: nor did your increase in knowledge fall short of my expectance. You have read, how jacob for his seven years' service, received from Laban his Leah. Wherewith Doriclea interrupting him, said; And if my Father had any such blear-eyed Daughter, you should have my consent to enjoy her. But pray you good Sir (quoth Doriclea) whence cometh this discourse, or whereto direct you it? H'as my Father fallen in any manner short of what was promised you; or deducted aught from that annual Pension he conferred on you, that you should thus upbraid us in any disregard to your service? No, Mistress, (answered Philocles) I have amply tasted of his bounty; his liberal exhibition towards me, hath far exceeded any abilities in me of requital. If I have any cause to complain, the ground thereof ariseth from your neglect, and so you may be pleased to conceive it. From mine, said Doriclea? Good Sir, show me in what particular, I have neglected any office of respect to your deserving self! Of all vices, I must ingenuously tell you, I have ever constantly hated that of ingratitude. Conscious I am, Heaven knows, of too many; yet of this, my thoughts have been ever so freely cleared, as I cannot remember wherein you may pretend any just cause of taxing me in this nature. O yes Mistress, answered he! I have taught you what I perceive you were as apt to forget, as you were at first to get: and in foregoing that one only Lesson, you have employed a neglect of my instruction. You may well remember, for it is not so long since you got it by heart, how I told you the signification of Amorett, and how you were to decline it. Neither have I forgot it, so far▪ said she, as I mean to make use of it. For the Active I shall ever generally approve it: but for the Passive, I never mean to entertain it. What may Amorett then signify, quoth Philocles? I love, said Doriclea; and why do you decline, quoth he, from so sweet a signification? Because (answered she) it was one of your first Lessons to teach me how to decline it. Herein I do but observe your Lesson, and is this in me any transgression? No, Doriclea, No, said Philocles; but my desire is that you would exercise the fruit and effect of that Lesson. I will not tell you how much he loves you, who first read that Lesson to you. But were there transparent Lights in his Bosom, you might easily discern, and consequently affirm, that there were something in him who deserved your affection. Deserved my affection (answered Doriclea) Surely, I doubt not, but my Father's care has provided a better Jointure than a schoolhouse for his Daughter. Trust me Sir, if this be your Guerdon which you expect for your care and serious instruction; I am very likely, for my part to prove unthankful still: your motion falling so far short of all hope of promotion. Nay, I must tell you, Sir, that you have so deceived my opinion, as where before I bore your person all respect, as to a serious and industrious Master; your uncivile presumption (for a better title I cannot bestow of it) shall henceforth teach me to dispense with that respect: and if you seasonably desist not, make my Father acquainted with your boldness. In such scorn I hold your Motion, as I can find no passion strong enough to encounter with your indiscreet affection. With which words, as one seemingly above all measure, irreconcilably incensed, she departed: leaving her disconsolate Philocles to converse with the Air: or like a melancholy Scholar, to enter parley with his own sullen Saturnine thoughts. But so strangely became he divided from himself, as the very Organs of his Tongue had lost the faculties of speech: his eyes, as if affrighted with some Meteor, stood staring, without distinguishing the Object they fixed upon. All was out of order with this amorous Scholar: till at last taking a little breath, he vented his dis-passionate griefs in this manner.  
Is it so, unhappy Philocles? 
Philocles' Passion.  Must thy true affectionate care of her honour, receive so harsh an answer? Will she show no less height of hate, than thou retains heat in thy love? And whence the ground of her disdain? Thou taughtest her the Rule to love, but she never means to practise that Lesson. Thou hast that Cloud of a Scholar hanging over thee Philocles, which darkens the height of love. They must be accommodated in all parts, that shall merit her love. Camillus she could not brook, though young and rich, because he was a Foole. Mardanes she could not endure, though wise and rich, because he was too old. And Philocles she will discard, though neither too old, nor altogether a Fool, because he is not rich. Well, Doriclea, my desire shall ever be, that thou mayst prosper: and enjoy in any complete Gallant whom thou shalt affect, more than thou canst in the society of a Scholar. Yet, me thinks, that name should not be of such contempt, that the very tender of my affection should beget thy discontent. It is a strange requital, to render hatred for love: c●vill respects deserve freer courtesies. My hopes are not yet so desperate; nor my studies hitherto so unfortunate, that they should expose me to such neglect. Why then should she bestow on my affectionate devotion, no better title than Uncivil presumption: seeing privacy freed me from the one; and my humility from the other? But all this sufficeth her not: her enraged passion mounts yet higher above the banks. She has denounced on thee a sentence, if thou de●●st not from thy suit. Her Father must be made acquainted: and consequently thy future hopes derived from his favour, expired. And herein have you charmed me Doriclea; I shall surcease to express, what my thoughts shall ever reteifie. Nay, I will turn dissembler with mine own heart: and learn to decline from what I love most. You shall have no cause hereafter to tax me of boldness: in the company of those you better love, I shall hold my distance; Rejoice when you are pleased in the presentment of a deserving Su●ter▪ and heartily wish your minds may close in one harmonious Consort together. And if this will not expiate my offence, I will go further, to regain my peace. An Academic life shall receive me, which may in time restore to me that liberty, which since this my occasional reside in the Country becomes unhappily estranged from me.  
This said, he retired; bearing the clearest countenance that so troubled a mind could bring forth: resolving never to renew his Suit; but if he could not wear out those impressions of love, which had writ such deep Characters in his heart, to remove the occasion by dividing himself from the Object of his affection: and exchanging a Country love with an Academical life.   

CHAP. VII.  
The discourse Doriclea used next day at Table, being encouraged by her Parent's indulgence: alleging by way of Argument, that she wondered how Julia, Augustus his Daughter could detract so much from her Princely descent, as to entertain least thought of loving Ovid; and how a Schoolmaster durst attempt the Sollicitancy of an Emperor's Daughter.  
PErplexed Philocles could not conceive more passion in Doriclea's disesteem; then Doriclea apprehended motives of content from the affection Philocles had professed. Yet to clothe fancy with policy, both of these must stand at equal distance: and express not so much as the least beamling of their true zeal in presence. For Philocles, he durst not, being already charmed with her thre●ts: and for Doriclea, she would not, to try what temper he was made of. A dangerous hazard, I nust confess it is, to trifle thus with love, and by playing with the flame, to endanger the fndging of their wings: but so well composed was Doriclea, so virtuously loyal her affection, and that winged with such continent desres, as they ever impaled themselves within the lists of modesty: Yea▪ she would not stick sometimes to give liberty to the quickness of her conceit: by making choice of some discourse purposely to amate Philocles: and shadowingly pretend a discovery of his late proffered and professed fancy. As it chanced one day, when her Parents and herself were at Table together, where through a native tender indulgence which they had ever shown to their Daughter, she had liberty to express her conceit upon any Subject. By means of this liberty, which she always used with much modesty, she took occasion to enter into a discourse by way of argument, touching the familiarity which appeared betwixt Augustus his Daughter and the Poet Ovid: wherein she proceeded in this manner.  
Amongst all other occasional Subjects, wherein my small Reading has informed me; there is nothing that occurs unto me more strangely than that boldness, which I find in that ingenious Ovid, with the Emperor Augustus his Daughter. How a Poet, whom even that wisest of Philosophers, Plato himself, had long since banished his Commonwealth; and whose height of fancy some of our ancient Sages have esteemed a mere frenzy; holding Poetry to be the Devil's wine: and a Poetical Dimension such a distraction, as it infatuated the understanding, and deluded the conceit with deceiving shadows of opinion; How he, I say, durst attempt an assay of such importance; by imparting his love, where he ought so much of duty: or conceit himself worthy the least beamling or reflection of such a fancy. Again, how she looking on that imperial House from whence she came; those eminent Allies with which she sided; those many eyes which darted o● her; the distaste which so commanding a Father could no less than apprehend upon so unequal a familiarity; would debase her thoughts so much, as to stoop to so base a Lure: as the highest pitch was but a Poetical fury, an intranced rhapsody, which would suit incompetibly with a Prince's fancy. No, what is more, a mere Pedantical Schoolmaster; for so I have read, he was; whose highest aim was his Sovereignty in correction: & this ambitious Swad to assume to himself so much immerited state, as to press into familiarity with his Emperor's Daughter; or she to entertain such ignoble thoughts as to accept of the protests of so undeserving a servant, is almost above the pitch of imagination to conceive; or opinion to believe.  
Why Girl, said her Father? was it▪ hold you, so contemptible a thing in those days to be a Schoolmaster? Pray you tell me, what do you think of some of our most eminent Princes, who have in former times been Schoolmasters? yea, and with a voluntary dereliction of all regal state, port, and magnificence, preferred that pedantical state before the glory of a Diadem? Dennis, Dionysi●s, and Seleuchus were in their times equal to most Princes for eminence of state, absoluteness of command; extent in the limit of their Sovereignty; yet did these hold that condition which you esteem so despicable, equal in content to that Princely honour which before they retained: yea, incomparably more happy did they account themselves, in relinquishing the one for acceptance of the other, then if the most famous Conquest that ever Earth was witness of, had recorded their regal names in the Annals of honour.  
This it was which moved Seleuchus that victorious Prince, upon reflex had to those many miseries and insupportable cares accompanying a Crown, so confidently to say, that if a Man knew with what cares a Diadem was clogged, he would not take it up though it lay in the street. Nor was this the singular opinion of one; for when the Romans had despoiled Antiochus of all Asia, so lightly laid he it to his heart, as he gave them great thanks, saying, they had rid him of many insupportable cares: yea, and of many bitte● invectives beside; being at one time saluted ● glorious Prince, and a furious Tyrant. Nor did these bear those mutable overtures wit● minds less composed, then if highest fortunes with general voice and vote had been● on them conferred. So as, a Philosopher perceiving Diony●ius to sit merrily in the Thea●● after he was expulsed his realm●, condemned the people who banished him.  
It is true Father, said Doriclea: but I am half persuaded, that none of these whom you have named, would have cared much for a private life, had they not been deposed. To act the part of King and no King, 〈◊〉 an heavy task: High spirits can hard●● brook it; and for ignoble minds, wh● prefer, like an other childish Honorius the safety of Roma their Hen, before th● safeguard of Roma their City; they are n● to be much pitied for what they lose, because they are altogether insensible of thei● loss. They who could forgo a Kingdoms for a School, never deserved the Title o● a Prince. Indeed, some of these there wer● who deprived of their Sceptre▪ made● Schoolehouse their harbour; but for wha● end? Merely to exercise their tyranny on Children, as they had before practised on Men.  
Girl, your judgement is too rash, said Androgeus; did not Dioclesian, whom you even now named, voluntarily relinquish the flourishing'st Empire in the world? He was neither expulsed by force, nor deposed by private consent: his desertion of an Imperial life came from his own choice: being weary of so pressing a burden, the weight whereof winged his resolves for a private condition. But pray thee Girl, whence came the occasion of this argument? Truly Sir, quoth she, from no great ground; and I am glad at heart, that having taken so slight an occasion, it has so nearly closed itself in a digression. For my Argument took first breath from the boldness of a Schoolmaster in attempting, and the lightness of his Scholar in consenting. The one too confident of his own parts; the other too unmindful of her own worth. The first too opinionate of his own desert; the latter too forgetful of her own descent. Which Subject, presuming on your patience and fatherly indulgence, I made choice of, being the very last which occurred to my reading; which moved me the rather to revive it, to hear what might materially be opposed to it.   

CHAP. VIII.  
The fear Philocles was in, lest Doriclea should discover his suit to her Parents. Which Doriclea, though she made choice of that Argument, only to affright him, never intended, being more affectionately disposed, then either her appearance made show of, or any expression had as yet discovered.  
IT is not easy to imagine what cold qualms came over Philocles heart in the disputing of this Subject: so as, if the Parents of Doriclea had suspected aught, they might easily have gathered by the going and coming of his colour, that there was something in the wind that wrough such strange effects in his countenance and gesture. All which proceeded from an imaginary fear, doubting much that Doriclea had discovered his too bold suit to her Parents: Or if she had not already done it; this very Argument whereof she took so free an occasion to discourse, was an introduction of what she meant to discover hereafter. So as, many times in private would he fall into sundry passions: sometimes reproving his own presumption, in presenting his love to one who was so far above the sphere of his affection: other sometimes he would minister to his amated spirits some small semblances of hope; as if she were not the same she seemed; but that her fancy, howsoever shadowed or shrouded for the time, would break forth into other expressions, than what her virgin modesty could yet impart. Which deceiving opinion (as he judged it) he would straight labour to divert, and condemn himself of egregious folly to promise himself hope to obtain: seeing all passages of prevailing in his inconsiderate suit, were shut up by his Mistress disdain. For to impart his thoughts to her any more upon that subject, he resolved fully never to attempt it: desiring nothing more than that his former folly might be remitted; and all occasion of discovery prevented: upon which condition he would willingly surcease from those motives of love, which had so strongly wrought on the faculties of his mind.  
Nor did he see any means to unrip his thoughts to an other, being so far from hope of success▪ as now it became a sufficient task for him to prevent danger. For as the bent of his fortunes at that time confined themselves only to the spirit of hope: so was his hope probably like to expire, should she whom he held so dear, make the least discovery of what had passed betwixt him and her. It behoved him therefore to apply himself to another design: and recant his familiarity with love: which might both endanger his fortunes, and deprive him all hopes of aspiring higher.  
Thus, as the precious stone Diocletes, though it have many rare and excellent sovereignties in it, yet it loseth them all, if it be put into a dead man's mouth; fared it with Philocles, who though he were excellently endowed, richly qualified, and for elocution generally approved; yet all these disheartened by want of hope, lost all that lustre which they formerly retained.  
For though at retired hours, and at such times as he found his Muse most propitious, he composed divers amorous Poems, apt motives to stir up fancy; Yet so much was he discouraged, as what his resolves were sometimes addressed to present, his latter thoughts ever retracted  
Howsoever, his melancholy walks, affecting nothing more than privacy, discovered to his Mistress the effects of his fancy, who was so far from disclosing what might redound to his dishonour; as those arguments whereof she sometimes took occasion to treat, were only urged to affright him, but in no case to prejudice him: being so tender of his welfare, as whatsoever appeared, nothing was by her intended to decline his choice, or to give him just cause of change. For so full of virtuous remorse was Doricleas' pious heart, as it was more affectionately disposed, then by any appearance was yet discovered.  
For as the Juniper tree maketh the hottest coal, and the coolest shadow of any tree: For the coal is so hot, that if it be rak't up in ashes of the same, it continueth unextinquishable by the space of a whole year: So this divinely scented creature (to hold nearer resemblance with the Juniper) though the heat of her affection had been long smothered in embers, and discovered no visible flame; yet did it retain her vigour still, and by so much more violent when iffuing, by how much longer before it came to appearing. For love inwardly shows his heat most, when outwardly discerned lest. And such was Doricleas' case; though she restrained her eye from fixing on that Object which it desired: and her heart to entertain that guest which of all others she most prized, yet could not her discretion make such a fool of love, as wholly to bury her thoughts from more discerning eyes. Truth is, though no profession seemed more contemptible than that which he held: yet in her conceit, no vocation more pleasing, being professed by one to her own thoughts so loving; with her own desires so complying. Little then needed Philocles, to fear that she would discover any thing to her Parents to his prejudice: seeing she so inwardly affected and equally approved what he had propounded, as nothing did more infinitely content her, then at vacant hours to recollect those words which he had delivered to her. Neither was it her desire to tyrannize over her late-captived and inchained Servant: whose freedom lay it in her power, should be confirmed with as ample and authentic a Charter; as true love and constant devotion could enjoin her.  
But all this little allayed those incessant cares and fears of poor Philocles: who every day expected a discharge, when he should be deprived of the place he bore, and consequently of all future hopes of renewing his suit, or enjoying that prize which he so infinitely valued, as the sacrifice of his life he held at a low rate to seize him of the incomparable purchase of her love.  
This moved him one day, after a sad recollection of his thoughts, to meditate of his present condition, 
Philocles' relation of the unhappiness of his condition.  and of the ground of his distemper in this pensive manner.  
How is it Philocles! how fares it with thy distracted thoughts! most miserable of all others is thy condition; meriting most, yet can partake no compassion. Shouldst thou discover thy griefs, thou exposest thyself to danger, and by concealing what thou seelest, with fresh fuel thou feedest thy distemper, unhappy then art thou in suffering what thou darest not disclose: and no less unhappy, in making those thy enemies, on whom thou depends, by discovering what thy intimate thoughts desire to make known.  
How sweet and safe was thy condition, when Philosophy was thy mistress: and and the Liberal Arts those brave Competitors which contested with thee for preeminence? Light-feathered Love was then no Lure to catch thee: nor beauty no bait to ensnare thee: Nor all those amorous delights which fancy tenders, motives to delude thee. Spare commons became professed foes to light affections.  
Lectures of Philosophy admitted no Audience to love's treaty.  
But such is the mutable disposition of the mind: that no condition relisheth worse than what it presently enjoys. For could man value an Academic life when he partakes it, at that estimate which he holds it when he foregoes it, he would not make exchange of that present state with the treasures of the age: nor lose an hour's contemplation for the enjoyment of an Empire. O unhappy Philocles! and by so much more unhappy, in being once happy. In those prime slourishing days, wherein knowledge was the height of thy ambition, thou couldst freely without anxiety, and though rationally, with much liberty, discourse of a disdainful Mistress. Slight the frowns of an imperious Dame, and make it a wonder, how a little painted Earth, more purely refined then other inferior moved, should surprise a Conceiving soul, by making the miserable sufferer present himself a true Malcontent: with an hat without a band over-brimming his eyes, an unfashionable habit, as if he scorned to suit with time, and that unbrushed: an head, as if newly fettered with Medusa's locks, and that unkembed. This made me put on the Countenance of Dem●critus, and weaken my lungs with laughter. And must I play the madman's part, and discover myself to be the very same personal Actor! well Philocles; herein thou mayst read a Lecture of humility unto others; by disvaluing thy own strength: and submitting thyself to others Censure, who formerly wert so forward to tax others of the same Error.  
Mean time, what powerful effects have all these fruitless passions wrought? Increase of disdain; decrease of esteem: and fear in thyself of discovering thy aim? Well, Doriclea, did you but know, as your discretion hath sufficiently informed and improved your knowledge, what your unworthy Servant, unhappy Philocles, has lost in offering his Sacrifice of love unto you; you would suffer the worst of extremes, rather than suffer him to perish, whose life, freedom and fortune depend all upon your affection. But be it your lot to soveraignize over me, while with resolved patience; and a mind better composed then for any affliction to shake, I embrace my own ruin with a smile, while you close the period of my hopes in a frown.  
All this, unknown to him, did his Doriclea hear; who had much to do, upon the relation of his unhappiness, to hold her peace. But with what an open and affectionate breast she received his Complaints, and with what constancy she retained them, shall appear hereafter by those impressive effects which were wrought in her, and derived from her, by them.   

CHAP. IX.  
The intercursive Letters passing betwixt Philocles and Doriclea: and how she begun to impart by pen, what she had before conceited in thought: and how she desired nothing so much as the accomplishment of their Love, so privacy might give leave.  
GOod news, when they come unexpected, are ever with the best welcome entertained. This our Love-perplexed Philocles well understood, when after so many cold sweats, and distempered passions, which the height and heat of his unfeigned love had brought him to, he begun now at last to perceive, that a storm may beget a Calm: and that the frown of a Mistress may arise from the brow without least privity or intention of the heart. Which pleasant and unexpected overture, not to trifle out time, nor delude the conceit of our amorous Reader, who, no doubt, longs to hear of so fair a Conclusion, to such unpromising premises, happened thus.  
Philocles, who had never all his time before, entered into such a league of familiarity or acquaintance with love: and now fully resolved to bid adieu to all such dis-passionate treaties as make fools of the wisest men: after a melancholy turn or two in a solitary walk, which since the first presentment of his love to Doriclea, at retired hours he usually frequented: entering his Chamber, and casting his eye aside, he might find a paper close by his desk, wherein were these words contained.  
Doricleas' first Letter to Philocles.  
Sir;  
THe very last time I saw you, me thought you wore your band more like a Scholar than a complete Lover; which employed, that you were loved and knew not. Now, I would not that you made too large a construction of this: I am not she that will tell you she loves you: and if perhaps, I did, you would not believe me. For I have given you no cause as yet to conceit so. Nay, reflect upon your person and profession, and if you be any good Sophister▪ you cannot choose but conclude from such apparent premises, that it is impossible I should love you. And yet, I would be loath to be accounted such a fool, as to speak all that I think. Trust me, Sir, I was once resolved never to love, but if I did, never to love you: now what have you done that could alter me? Must I believe, you, because you told me you did love me? Be all your protests Maxims, that I should hold them for authentic? And yet Scholars have ever been accounted simple: were it not a sin then, not to believe you? That experienced Sage could style you Foxes in the School, but Sheep in the world: A●d shall I hold you a dissembler? No; I am persuaded you speak as you think: but what is all this to me, or wherein may this beget hope in you, seeing you must not have all you love? Well; God forgive you, I will not dissemble, whatsoever you do. Let me hear you once again treat of love, and you shall see how I will slight you. If your discourse like me, trust me, I will not be angry; howsoever, it shall not so much offend me, as to make me accuse you to any such wherewith I formerly threatened you. To conclude, though Love be seldom grounded on Reason, return me but reason why I should love, and why I should make you the object of that love, and as I live, Philocles shall find me a loyal constant Doriclea.  
Never did hopeless Prisoner receive more content from the glad report of an unexpected reprieve, after the heavy sentence of death pronounced, then revived Philocles did in the perusal of this Letter. He now recollects his dispersed and dispacarled spirits: and bethinks with himself what were best to be done upon so fair an opportunity offered. He resolves therefore, to prevent jealous eyes, to address his mind to her in writing to this effect.  
Philocles' answer to Doricleas' first Letter.  
Mistress;  
HOw much those lines sweetened with your character, have transportedme, my indearedst thoughts cannot impart unto you. To give you a reason why you should love me, I can give you no other, but that my heart tells me I deserve you: & that humanity injoynet you to love me, seeing I hold my life an easy sacrifice to enjoy you. Be it your goodness to believe me; I will sooner surcease to live, then from expressing those loyal arguments of love; which your virtues deserve, and which I with no less constancy shall observe. I could never yet dictate either by tongue or pen, what I first conceived not in heart I told you, that yourself was my booty; the portion I expected, your virtuous beauty: and if you pleased but to crown my hopes with your consent, our mutual choice which should never admit change, might make us both equally happy.  
To tell you that either my Fortunes or descent did deserve you, were to labour, and that fruitlessly, to delude you. But let me become an Abject in the eyes of fame, an Object of contempt to the world, if my faithful devotion & observance supply not that deficience. For my descent, as I will not boast of it, yet whensoever your parents, after passion digested, shall examine it, they will find it neither so ignoble as to despise it, nor so meanly strengthened, as to reject it.  
But what are these, compared to the purity of that affection, which combines hearts and hands: And with a sacred cement so knits and contracts minds: As those who were before divided, by means of this holy league became so united, as nothing so much as their presence could content them, than which, nothing before did more distaste them! were my fortunes never so poor, yet seeing my fancy appears so pure, account him worthy to deserve you, who will hold himself unworthy of that life, which shall not be employed to serve you. These are all the reasons of Love, which you can expect from  
Your loyal PHILOCLES.  
Thus became Love a present and pregnant Secretary.  
This object of fancy made the task easy. Letters know not how to blush, which cause them commit to paper, what a bashful tongue could not so well deliver. Besides, this diverted all occasion of jealousy in a meare-looking family. Which they before all others most doubted; fearing to be prevented, now when their loves begun to be ripened and settled: which would so perplex the Scene, as this Comic introduction might casually close with a fearful Conclusion.  
Albeit, so free from the least suspicion of any light or ungrounded affection which Doriclea might any way harbour, were her Parents; as many times they would give their daughter liberty to ride abroad, and visit her friends. In all which freedoms she expressed such modesty, as Envy could nothatch the least occasion of jealousy from so composed a behaviour.  
Yet, a greater desire she retained to stay at home, since her affection begun to be settled on Philocles, than before: many times pretending an indisposition of health, or some other minted excuse, to prevent her journey, by remaining there where she had planted her fancy. But so tender were her Parents of their daughter; being, as she was, indeed, naturally tender: as they desired she should change the air, fearing much that her long stay or retiredness at home might enfeeble her health▪ And this their resolve now and then closed well with her liking, having Philocles assigned her for her conduct: whose society, out of a modest policy, though she seemed with all indifferency to admit: yet how much that cheered her heart, I appeal to all such constant and affectionate Lovers, whose fancy h'as been crowned with such opportunity: and whose journeys have been so incomparably sweetened with the Society of a Mistress; whose conference had power enough to shorten the hour; alloy the difficulty of a troublesome way; and to entertain every object with such occasional delight: as nothing could more cheerfully nor intentively work on the Conceit.  
But howbeit Philocles had sometimes the happiness to attend his Mistress; He was enjoined to a short return, which could not but beget an equal proportion of passion in them both: In him to be divided from her presence whom he so entirely affected: In her, to be dispossessed of those unvaluable joys which her affection had in his Society treasured. But their personal absence was ever supplied by other remonstrances, not only to renew what was already begun, but to prepare way for accomplishment of that, which with joint consent they desired might be solemnly done. Intercursive Letters were ever passing betwixt them: and that in so acquaint and cunning a Character, as interception, though seconded with a nimble construction, could hardly extract aught that might discover what they intended: or apply aught that might occasionally prevent what their grounded affections had resolved.  
For sometimes, he would write in the person of another Suitor, to free his lines from suspicion: sometimes he would feague under the title of that imaginary Suitor, that he was rejected by her: which to prevent, he would revive those protests of love he had formerly professed. And to instance these, and display the subtlety of a Lover, peruse this Letter, which under the feigned Name of some dis-esteemed Suitor, he thus addressed to her.  
Philocles' second Letter to Doriclea.  
DEarest, let the presentment of these lines renew my suit; and in the perusal of my passions, let this be your maxim: that it rests in your affection or rejection to make me happy or unhappy in my state, your Zeal to goodness, amongst these many gusts of extremes, assures me, your pious and well-disposed heart cannot but entertain remorse to a Servant so loyal, as he holds the intyrest tender of his life, an easy purchase to time, but an easier sacrifice to fate, to purchase your love. Let me joy in enjoying you, and let me be deprived of all joy if in every subject I close not in your content, to make our mutual joys more truly absolute. Amidst these, hope and fear do equally encounter me; it is in your discreet breast to banish the one, by returning assurance of the other: and by checking the latter with a frown, to give encouragement to the former with a smile.  
Your year of mourning is now expired; receive him into your bosom, who will hold you so dear, as your comfort shall never expire. My long neglect of attending you, proceeded from the discouragement I received from you at my last being with you: but I am persuaded that assurance your own hand hath plighted me, will induce you to recollect your thoughts, and revive those sacred ties, which are so firmly united, as by death only to be dissolved.  
Let but one line redart one small beameling of love, and winged speed shall enliven my desires for those parts, and style me in the fruition of you,  
Your long trusty, now happy Servant▪  
How much these played, nay pleased the imagination of Doriclea, it is not easy to conceive. Smiling with herself at the Conceit of Philocles, in seeming to fear what he feared not; and pretending the affection of a Suitor whom he knew not. Nor was Doriclea less prompt in addressing her affectionate thoughts to Philocles, but still after his Copy; for either would she make bold with subscribing Mellida's name to her own Letter: or counterfeiting some other Character, to express the intimacy of her desires, and constancy of her vows to her selectedst Lover. Nor would she enlarge herself too much; lest by some Circumstance or other she might discover what her private thoughts would not have disclosed, for the true and unvaluable estimate of her honour.  
Yet did not her pen drop less love for the contractednesse of her line: Each Syllable had his Emphasis, as may appear by this amongst others, which she sometimes wrote unto him to solace his pensiveness.  
Doricleas' second Letter to Philocles.  
Fail not, faint not, fear not: I am ever the same I have professed, constant. No line can limit my love; no distance divide my heart. Mean while lodge these lines in thy bosom till I see thee.  
Cold North, hot South, clear East, wet West  
Shall ne'er divide me from thy breast;  
On this then, Dearest, set thy rest,  
I am the same that I've professed;  
Mean time, sweet fancy, use thy charm,  
Till sleep enfold us arm in arm.  
No day passed without some memorial of this kind. A strong motive to love; reconveying to the memory, what personal absence might raze forth without revival. This it was which wrought so strongly on the enlivened spirit of Mark Antony: as there was nothing that made him so great a stranger to arms, which he naturally affected: nor estranged his affection more from his Octavia, to whom by conjugal love he stood obliged: nor divided him more from the care of securing himself, than one line coming from the hand of his Cleopatra. Though her majestic state begot an admiration in her beholders; a strong impression in the wounded hearts of her lovers. Though her eye retained a power to command love; and subdue the commandingst Conqueror with a look. All these soveraignized not half so much on Antony's affection, as those amorous lines he received from her, writ in Crystal, Amber, Amethyst, and Ivory. Not a line but contained a love's charm. No model which ever fancy devised, or the imagination stamped; which subtle Cleopatra presented not to make a Commander her Thrall; a Conqueror her Slave.  
Those secret delights of love which modest ears would scarcely have received; nor shamefast eyes perused, were into his conceit freely instilled: to decline his affection from those, whom he ought to have loved best: and to engage his heart to her, whose embraces he should have dis-relished most. Thus did she cast forth her lines for lures, to seize on one of the highest flyers, that ever perched Roman stem: becoming her own witty Secretary, to ensnare the fancy of her deluded Antony.  
But more modest were the lines of our two Lovers; and far more virtuous their aims. Reason became no captive unto sense. Neither did the conceit of a Nuptial night so much transport them, as to deprive their apprehension of the end for which honourable rites were first ordained. This, Philocles sufficiently expressed, when at such time as after Doricleas' return home, having no good opportunity to impart his thoughts more freely to her, he commended these lines to paper, which he privately conveyed into her pocket.  
Philocles' third Letter to Doriclea.  
Dear One, what I sometimes professed, shall be ever in my loyal love to you faithfully expressed. What, though opportunity for the present bar us from conference, our eyes shall witness that unfeigned love that is betwixt us. And in approvement of it, subscribe under these few lines, but these words, I will be ever your faithful Consort: And you shall perceive, ere long, that a fair opportunity shall give freedom of enjoyment of our loves. Where we way freely and virtuously enjoy one the other; and with continual comforts partake the benefit of our lawful loves to God's honour. Mean time, write these words under this, my dearest choice, so shall my constant love pronounce me yours without change.  
The Match is made with joint consent,  
Only subscribe, I am content:  
Where nought but Death shall e'er divide  
Your dearest consort from his Bride.  
Nor need you doubt but Doriclea upon perusal of these lines, was as ready to subscribe, as he to propose. So loyal were their chaste loves, so constantly united their minds. Yet were they no such Novices in the School of Love; nor so uncapable of those effects which pure love might bring forth: as not to aspire to some higher degree than yet they had attained. Yea, even virtuous Doriclea, who never heard any light discourse without a modest blush: nor had given harbour to a wand'ring thought without a seasonable reproof, desired nothing more than the accomplishment of their love, so privacy might give leave. For that tender filial zeal which she bore to her Parents made her resolves more doubtful; and time more protractive; then her desires, were she her own Guardian, could freely give way to. Howsoever, to free her faithful Philocles of all fear; and to confirm him in that which he did most desire: with as much convenient speed as the opportunity of that time would allot, with a prepared hand and an affectionate heart she subscribed to whatsoever his virtuous requests had propounded.   

CHAP. X.  
What Plots Doriclea devised to partake in private Meetings and Treaties with her Philocles: and how by the jealousy of Euryclea, her Mother, she was prevented.  
SHort restraints seem long, where hearts are divided from those Objects which they love. Though at times of repast, and some other hours of the day, Doriclea might enjoy the presence of her Philocles, yet through the intercourse of her sundry Suitors, who now like golden showers came daily falling & distilling into our Danaës Lap: they were barred that freedom of discourse their bequeathed hearts so much affected.  
Nor could it do less then perplex the troubled thoughts of Philocles, to see his Doriclea so daily courted; ample promises of high preferment, with other titles of honour, dangerous baits to catch a Woman, proffered: so as, if she were not all the constanter, howsoever she had largely protested, he was verily persuaded her Mai●en Castle could not long hold out. E●ery kiss was a kill to him; and by that, judge how often he might be killed every day! He many times thought of that Poetical Proverb: 
L●●s are Loves-portels, to sly Wooers known,  
Which once surprised, the Fort is quickly won.   
Yet patient Philocles! he must say nothing, whatsoever he think. His eyes must partake in the sight of their wooing dalliance; & glad he may do so, to prevent the worst. And sometimes these silken Suitors will vouchsafe him that honour to supply a place in their amorous pastimes; as in making Gooselings in the fire, or drawing of gloves, or such like harmless toys, to pass the night away. Nay, sometimes they employed him further, in returning a message to Doriclea; a task which suited best with his liking, but no doubt would lose much of his spirit in carrying. For to be a second Porter of Bellerophon's Letters could not sort with his disposition, who had casten his lot, and found one equally closing with him ●n affection. But all these servile employments, as he conceived, were imposed him, purposely to humble him. Albeit, such trials needed little, being one of such temper, as his thoughts were far above an inferior Sphere. For as he beheld nothing in this Theatre of Earth, worthy affecting, but his Doriclea: so he conceited so well of his choice, as he rested confident, such an excellent piece could not find a breast to entertain a change. And his opinion was truly grounded: for howsoever his Doriclea might seem out of a desire to give her Parents content, to converse with these jolly Wooers, and to leave them in suspense, lest an absolute rejection of them might procure their distaste; we have ever made it a constant Maxim, Where the eye is, there the mind is: which might well appear by the behaviour of this constant Maid: who, though she seemed amorously to converse with these, had her eye ever fixed on her Philocles. But all this was not sufficient to her, unless she might enjoy the presence of her Dearest; from whom to be divided, even in private treaties or parlance, was no small affliction. Suppose her then contriving sundry plots to partake in what she did so infinitely desire. Love is ingenious in devising, but many times not so prosperous in succeeding. Private meetings, purposely to relate their affections, with means of preventing of what her Parents, for aught that she knew, might be intending; was her aim; further she aspired not: for so pure and undistained were her thoughts, as they hated to mix themselves with any irregular desire.  
Now to bring to pass what she sought; many evenings would she pretend some one business or other, to stay below behind her Mother: but so light was her occasion, as her Mother perceived, that it made her more jealous of her excuses. Seeing then these would not do; she made use of a Trap-door within her Chamber; intending to come down by it, and so enjoy the benefit of time. But none of these plots would hold; for Euryclea, who by some private intelligence, or what other ill office I know not, receiving notice of her Daughter's practice; one night when Doriclea suspecting no harm, was to come down by the Trap-door, as she had formerly done, was received below by her Mother instead of her Lover. Which how it perplexed this unfortunate Doriclea, exceeds the art of any Pen to express: being not only deprived of that beneficial opportunity, with an evening treaty, to crown their fancy; but engaged to a just censure or opinion of jealousy. Which her Mother had good cause to conceive; seeing what private advertisements had informed, she found so apparently confirmed. Imagine then incensed Euryclea, who prized nothing more than her Daughter's honour: nor distasted aught more than those imputations which censure might justly cast upon her, taking up her Daughter in this manner.  
What Girl, is your modest seeming come to this? H'as our care, our too much care of your preferment, made you forgetful of your honour? Have you either so mean an opinion of yourself; or so weak a conceit of our love, as to suffer your desires to mount no higher, then to be the affectionate Mistress of a Schoolmaster? H'as your breeding begot in you a neglect of what you are, or a contempt of that duty which you owe? Be your actions so dark, as they must have the night to shelter them? Must your Father's Family receive a blemish by your infamy? Is this the hope we treasured in you, the comfort we expected from you? Little, did either your Father or I imagine what you meant by that acquaint discourse you occasionally vented at the Table; in talking of that immodest love betwixt a wanton Poet and Augustus Daughter. It seems you delivered that Argument only to try us, whether we stood affected to such a profession, on which you had pitched your wild affection. Simple Girl! conceive remorse in time; do not undo your Fortunes; there is none yet that can (such is my too indulgent hope in you) justly traduce you; unless the eyes of this Family. Redeem their opinion; be more tender of your reputation. There is no portion proportionably comparable to the gage of honour: which perished, you are lost for ever. No treasure so precious as a continent soul; nothing more to be loved, and nothing harder to be redeemed, being once lost.  
It will grieve me, to hear yourself grieved with the relation of an ill report. You may be confident I shall take small pleasure in the discovery of this nightwork. Well Girl; those relenting tears promise amendment: how soon is a Mother's anger appeased? I shall be ready to salve all, so I find a desire in you to amend all. I will not make your Father, your too passionate Father acquainted with it; neither will I show in public any displeasing countenance towards your too presumptuous Philocles. All shall be carried with that equal and fair temper, as you shall have cause to say, that never indulgent Mother did more ●ender her Daughter's honour: nor could use more connivance, where she found the least hope of repentance. Retire then with all privacy into your Chamber; I shall charm your Maid that she discover nothing. Only let this be a warning unto you henceforth, never to expose your honour so freely, as to give occasion to the family to speak lightly of you. For as honest repute is the highest prize; so it merits of itself such approved praise: as were your actions never so private, the eye of piety would survey them and crown them. Neither can any device find such a shroud or shelter for vice, as the piercing eye of fame will not discover it, and display the Actors when they least dream of it. Be then what you have so long professed, virtuous; you cannot improve the Family from whence you came, better: nor confer on your maiden years more true honour. This if you observe, it will give us cause to bless you, and second the continuance of our care, in providing a Match for you that may equal your birth and fortunes: yea, and to close all in one, confirm the opinion of your own fame, by leaving to your posterity a precedent of your surviving goodness.  
With these words, seeing her Daughter lodged in her Chamber, she departed: leaving poor disappointed Doricl●a to sum up her discontents, and to ask her Pillow counsel in cases of such extremity, what were best to be done. Whom now you may imagine turning and tossing in her bed, without taking any rest: desiring rather to be deprived of what re●resheth and nourisheth Nature most, then to be rest of so sweet an opportunity of enjoying his presence, whom she prized best.  
For though she sought her Parents minds to please,  
Her highest thoughts were fixed on Philocles.  
But the day must now supply the night, with our Doriclea: by contenting herself with the sight of him, in the presence of her Parents, whom she in private conference so much desired to enjoy. Their distance must admit no conference: all their language now must be delivered by the eye: ready no doubt to express by a look, how much their united hearts stood engaged to love. Those Hesperian Daughters never kept their golden fruit with more vigilancy, then restrained Doriclea was by her Mother's jealousy. So as, though her unfeigned love devised many plots to possess her of that which she so much desired, yet by her Mother's intelligence was she ever prevented. Howbeit, she ever bore fair with Philocles: never so much as discovering any discontent towards his person: nor at any time reproving him for his presumption; in aspiring so high as the procurement of her Daughter● affection. Albeit, one day taking him aside, she told him; that she conceived it to be a far better course for him, to return to his former Academic life: and that he lost but his time in the Country: especially, seeing for the present they had no employments for him, that might any way improve him, nor answer those hopes he expected, nor parts deserved: yet if occasion should afterwards fall forth that it lay in their way to advance him: he should not fail in obtaining the best means that their assistance or furtherance could possibly procure him.  
But little wrought these with Philocles: he preferred one Mistress before nine Muses. His highest of humane Philosophy rested in the affection and contemplation of her on whom he had fixed his fancy. Nevertheless, he expressed himself thankful for so unwelcome a tender: pretending ever that he expected daily to receive notice when some place might fall, and then he would neglect no more time but address his course that way; which he hoped e'er long would offer itself in such ample manner and measure, as might highly conduce to the improvement both of his credit and profit.  
Mean time, he hoped, his demeanour should not be such, as might make any place where he so journed for the time, weary of him. And that he would choose rather to undergo the poorest life, then be confined to that place, where his carriage might not merit love. But little did these reasons satisfy jealous Euryclea; who laboured to prevent the worst, by dividing Philocles from her presence whom she tendered best. To whom we must now return, and see what extremes she is brought to; who in this her languishing plight intimates her griefs; and in a secret repose, to give more vent to passion, imparts her discontents in this private pensive relation.   

CHAP. XI.  
The Passions of Doriclea: and how she conversed with her own thoughts in the effecting of her love: inveighing against such ungrounded fancies, who measure affection by strength of alliance, portion, or any other respect, than the pure effects of love.  
Griefs never come unseconded: love-surprized Philocles could never lament more the inequality of his fortunes, which made him unworthy the embraces of his endeared Mistress, in the opinion of her Parents: then this division from him whom she so entirely loved, troubled the dis-passionate mind of Doriclea.  
Her unsociable disposition now discovered her affection. Dark-shady Lawns agreed best with her humour, where in some private Spinet, conversing with her own thoughts, she used to discourse of the effects of her love, in this manner.  
How far art thou divided from thyself Doriclea? Are all passages now stopped up, of partaking his society to whom I have engaged my heart? Can Children esteem this for tender love, which deprives them their sight whom they only love? Alas! do they hold it a matter of such indifferency, to dispense with fancy? Admit I have made choice of him for my dearest Lover, whom my Parents provided for my Schoolmaster, must this deserve such strict censure, as to divide me from the presence of my Tutor? This were to make a Truant of a Scholar. Must none marry but with their equals? None rich, match with poor fortunes? What will become then of poor virtue? She may live a single life, and never partake in the society of love. Silken vice, be it never so deformed, must be honoured: she cannot want preferment, nor choice of Suitors, nor variety of Admirers, because wealth h'as advanced her above the rank of inferiors. Our Wooers now adays must be rich, or our Parents will entertain them with a frown. Mean time, what discontent attends such hopeless marriages, where fortunes make up the match, while their affections never meet? Do●es Love's essence consist in outward substance? Was it this that made Leander cross Hellespont, and entomb his dying hopes in the waves? Was it this that moved love-seazed Orpheus to encounter all hazards for his captived Eurydice? Was it this which exposed long-divorced Ithacus to all adventures for his constant Penelope? Was it this which engaged trusty Telamonius to such perils for his Hesione? O no! It was true love which drew them to those extremes. And yet did these rarely ground their affections upon equality of descents or fortunes. Their choice was better planted, and therefore continued longer. For alas, what will honour do to a discontented heart? She that is so matched receives small joy from the Title of a Lady, when this naked style h'as bestowed her on One she cannot fancy. Ungrounded are these affections, and so weakly to be weighed, as I shall ever choose to inveigh against them, who hold it sufficient glory to enjoy precedency: mean time, discontent becomes their Chamberlain: seeing, neither style nor estate can reconcile an enforced love to a loathed bed. O consider you this, reverend Parents, who enjoin your Children to live where they cannot love!  
This it is, believe it, which makes modest minds too often transgress, by comforting with unlawful loves, and mixing with those, whom sensual affection h'as made choice of in exchange. Enforced loves beget straying eyes. They find nothing at home worth affecting, which makes them with Dinah to go abroad, and with too prepared a boldness to impaune their honour. O retract then your too severe commands, who enjoin your Children such Tasks, as affection cannot bear, nor freedom of mind embrace, without a resolved distaste! It is better seasonably to forgo what we cannot like; then seemingly to approve what we cannot effect, and then repent too late. For my resolves, I hope, they shall never close in any other period than this: That it shall be my constant scorn, to measure affection by strength of alliance, which to divided hearts can afford small assistance; or portion, which without a love-inducing proportion, begets the enjoyer nought but affliction; nor any other respect, be it never so gracious or specious to the eye; but that only which conveys pure and effectual love to the heart. Never let Parents think that any other affection can prosper: seeing it is not grounded on that foundation, which tenders the mind true solace and contentment. Albeit, such who make their choice by the eye, receive only direction by sense; and such a love neither deserves approvement, nor to offer itself to others for a precedent. But where reason and affection meet, there such a sweet union and communion of minds close in the enjoyment of one the other, as nothing can dissolve that individual tye save only the discharge of that debt we owe to Nature. Yea, but will provident Parents say, there is more required in solemnising a marriage, then only bare love▪ It is true; yet where love is truly grounded, it will ever find a state competent to the mind, or a mind competent to the state. It is impure love that proves poor. Affection cannot want: a very little sufficeth where love reigneth. Whereas greatest means prove mean fortunes, where affectionate minds are wanting to manage those fortunes. O let me then enjoy my choice, and it is not in the world that shall make me desire to change. Rich am I above comparison, enjoying the freedom of my affection. Miserably poor above relation. being deprived of love's fruition. Either then give me liberty to live where I love; and to become seized where I have engaged mine heart: or let me be restrained for ever, rather than so espoused where I needs must hate. O my dearest Parents! reflect upon your own condition, when your unriper years gave first motives to your glowing thoughts of affection. Did you only value means? Was portion the on-only lure? Could nothing work so strongly on fancy, as fortune or outward ability? Yes, yes; more purely were your undefiled loves grounded, and more successively graced, then with the refuse of Earthy Oar to be only guilded. Look then down upon us; we are of the same mould; if our temper were imputer, we should less deserve the privilege of your favour. Since we resemble you in our desires, second what we desire, and account of us, as you shall value the estimate of our deserts.  
Howsoever Doriclea, be it thy assay to retain the good opinion thou hast purchased from thy Philocles; his constancy h'as deserved thee; his demeriting parts every way equal with those fortunes thy friends may confer on thee. Mean time, endure the averseness of thy Parents with patience, so may the effect crown thy hope, and minister thee seasonable relief, when all visible means deny help.  
Thus conversed Doriclea with her own thoughts; thus with much privacy discovered she her own passions. Resolved to endure whatsoever fate or fortune might inflict, rather than forgo the choice of her Philocles, whom she before all others did affect. But how much she became deprived of all means to express the love she professed, and which remained so constantly fixed, as nothing but death could divide it, the Chapter ensuing will declare: where you shall find nothing so constant an attendant to love as care: nor no distemper, when brought to extremes, more desperate of cure.   

CHAP. XII.  
How Doriclea, being deprived all means of imparting the constancy of her zeal to Philocles: having neither the benefit of Ink nor Paper, to discover her loyal intimate thoughts to her faithful Lover; she supplied that want with her needle, sowing her mind in Letters of gold, and returning them in the border of a handkerchief.  
SO jealous was Euryclea grown of the love of her Daughter and her amorous Scholar: as, though she prevented all means of familiar conference or treaty one with the other, yet she still doubted the worst: wherefore finding her Daughter one Evening privately in her Chamber writing, and perceiving the character by the first blush, and too hasty subscription of her Letter: to Doricleas' small comfort, she thus encountered her.  
What, Girl, will this never be left? Will your Mother's instructions receive no place? Is there none for you to love, but whom we dislike? Trust me, Daughter, this will neither redound to your comfort nor credit? I pray you, what hopes may you look for at his hands? Will his unprocured revenues maintain you? Or his Philosophy feed you? Or the lean hopes of some fat Advousion hereafter sustain you? 'Las, do you not see how a Scholar is but made an instrument of necessity: and after he he's done his work, like an old decayed Servingman to be discarded; or if he stay, to be fed with reversions; or take his repast without fear of a surfeit, at a Philosopher's dinner? Prevent then this foolish love: which, lest you should hereafter signify by the least line, I shall remove all occasion: for Pen and Paper you shall have none to express your inconsiderate affection: the period whereof may bring you to a too untimely affliction. Nay more; assure yourself, that the next time wherein I shall observe the least semblance of your unseasoned love, I shall divide you beyond the distance or limit of any line. No pretended excuse shall satisfy me, to induce me to suffer him to sojourn any longer within our gates. Resolve then what you mean to do; fix not your distempered fancy on him whom you cannot have. Submit your affection in all obedience to our choice. In vain it is to oppose us, seeing you labour to intercede for that which you can never receive from us. I have hitherto shrouded your too forward fancy: and casten such a veil before the eyes of the Family, as no dishonour yet h'as touched you. Compassionate my care, and requite it with a constant desire, to effect what we most affect: by setting your rest on such a choice, as may, when God shall send you one, support your charge.  
Thus was poor Doriclea deprived all means of imparting the constancy of her zeal to Philocles. No treaty could she partake with him. No line of love could she address to him. Eyes only were those Messengers of love, which so redarted affection, as the Optic part returned a legible Lecture of a constant assurance one to the other. Yet would not this suffice loyal Doriclea; now must she screw her invention to the highest Pin, and by some other means supply the expression of her Pen. Which the pregnancy of love's art quickly performs. For having neither the benefit of Ink nor Paper, to discover her loyall-intimate thought to her faithful Lover, she contrives an other way to express what she did so unfeignedly profess: and in so modest and composed a manner, as the subtlest part of jealousy could not unrivet the secrecy of such a Letter. Her Plot is then to supply that want with her Needle, sowing her mind in Letters of Gold, and returning them in a curious border of needle work, so neatly and artificially shadowed, as it was not in the power of art nor strength of fancy to discover it.  
And amongst other curious devices which loves invention composed, she addressed this, in that manner we have expressed.  

Doriclea to Philocles.  
MY Pen a Needle now must be  
To manifest my love to thee;  
While every stitch shall sting my heart  
Till it take harbour where thou art;  
Where landing, may it die a shore  
If e'er we live divided more.   
What strong and impressive memorial these and such as these were to our constant Philocles; I leave to your judgements, experienced Lovers, who have suffered under the malevolent quality of such a Planet: where restrained of all opportunity, your Mistress' invention found way by some ingenious device or other after this manner, to discover the constancy of their affections. Truth is, as there is no passion which sooner works distraction then a depriving or distancing of us from the object of our affection: so is there no such motive to the conceit; as this conflict of love. How witty it is in contriving? How various in those numerous delights which the height of that fancy is ever working? No difficulty, but love will encounter it; no extremity, but she can digest it. There is no action meriting honour, that can be achieved without labour. Infinite were those tasks, and those full of jeopardy, which were imposed on Alcides, before he could be seized on his tyrannising Omphale. Nor were the affections of loyal Mistresses of less pursuit in their real expressions to their Servants. What vast unfrequented deserts, unknown to any other inhabitants but wild Beasts, have their tender virgin-feets traced, to find out those whom they loved? What strange disguises have they taken; what eminent fortunes have they forsaken; what honours rejected; what powerful friends disclaimed; to enjoy one only friend, whom they so highly preferred, as by their personal seazure they held themselves sufficiently enriched? Instances we might here bring forth such store, as might make up a story of themselves with out any other intervening discourse. But omitting others both foreign and modern, in reflecting upon our constant Doriclea, we shall find such noble constancy and masculine spirit in her, as every Act shall present a sufficient approvement; and publish her by the impartial verdict of time, worthy that applause which the relation of that age h'as given her.  
For as there was none which ever showed more constancy to those they loved; so was there never any who with a more composed temper encountered those affronts which either friends or fortunes cast upon her. Bearing all occurrents with so sweet and pleasing a smile, as even her very professed enemies (being, I must confess very few, though virtue must ever have some) suffered with her, turning their passion into compassion, the heat of their fury into a relenting admiration of her fancy: which became so equally tempered, as no distaste could alter it: being no less ready to enter the List to enjoy her love, then to obtain the conquest of enjoying his love, in whose bosom she desired only to live.  
Thus was our Doriclea resolved to suffer, and to joy in her suffering, that she might enjoy him; to whose affection as her thoughts were devoted, so no hour passed, wherein she was not contriving by one means or other, for their honest loves to be clothed and closed with honour.   

CHAP. XIII.  
Philocles' restraint, with those passionate effects which their enforced absence one from the other produced. He finds love ever most violent, when furthest divided from his Object: yet amidst these disgusts, he adviseth her to patience in his restraint. Confirming himself so individually hers, as nothing may abridge the accomplishment of their desires, but Death.  
BUT return we now to love-restrained Philocles: who, as he was confident to prevail, so he remained ever jealous of Eurycleas' affection to him. Nor could that smooth carriage which she pretended, free him from suspicious thoughts. For in his private retire, when divided from the eyes of men, would he many times recollect himself, and argue the promising effects of this amorous task: as if he were made sole Moderator of his own affections. Sometimes would he object to himself those inevitable perils, whereto he engaged his hopes and fortunes, by putting himself on an assay o● such difficulty: and which probably might encounter with such diversity of rubs: as hi● weak means would prove insufficient to remove them, and without much patience, the poor man's supportance, too heavy to bea●● them. Othertimes, he would be so far fro● objecting these fears or encounters of friends● as he stood irrevokeably addressed to go 〈◊〉 with what he had begun. Nothing could divert him; affection had so steeled him; and 〈◊〉 meditation of the worst that might fall ha● so prepared him; as come what could come▪ he was resolved to slight all difficulties, esteeming the conquest more glorious, by how muc● the combat seemed more dangerous. Yet again would he draw back a little and call 〈◊〉 mind those passages of her Mother Eurycles in labouring to dissuade him from a Country life, and advising him to return to his forme● Academic condition. Surely, quoth he, thi● motion aimed at something. It was not 〈◊〉 of a desire of my proficiency in learning, bu● to divide me from the Subject of loving. Sh● saw something which she liked not, or such useless persuasions had never been delivered. Well, I know not, what to conclude upon such suspicious premises: but sure I am, that a poisonous Snake may lie hid under the sweetest herbs. Those waters are not from peril freest, which run the smoothest. And too forward a Spring is ever nipped the soon. Though the Fish Sepia bewray her subtle encounter by a black colour, which she casteth out to cover her: others can go less disguised, and consequently less suspected, yet more dangerous are these, because they delude most, when they are least feared; surprise soon, when we are least prepared.  
Neither were these diversely perplexed resolves of his, without cause, for whether by some ill offices done him, or by some Letters intercepted which came from him, or some other marks or tokens of love observed betwixt them, her incensed Parents upon complaint made how Philocles had laboured to inveigle their Daughter, and against the laws of the Kingdom, sought privately to convey her, he became restrained: which was so far from amating his spirit, as he applied all these extremes as sovereign Cordials: fearing little, but as it was his hard fortune to suffer much for her: so her noble disposition would not be slow in returning a fair requital, to recompense those many occurrences which he encountered for her.  
Yet in this restraint, would he many times, and that not without a strong conflict, break out in the discovery of those passionate effects, which their enforced absence one from the other produced. O, where shall I live, said he, being deprived of her presence whom I only love? O how sweet were this restraint unto me, were I not restrained from her whose presence would give me liberty? How easy are the fetters of love? How unwelcome that liberty which divides us from those we love? Yet was my former freedom in this more grateful to me than this restraint: in that I was admitted to enjoy the sight of her, from whom I am estranged by restraint. Neither can this dis-passionate censure of her incensed Parents in procuring my commitment, work half so effectually upon mine ecstasied thoughts; as the grief I conceive for my dearest Doriclea: who, no doubt, upon the hearing of these news of my restraint, will become so perplexed, as the conceit of her discontent afflicts me more, than whatsoever her angry Parents may inflict. For time may appear their fury, by reflecting on themselves, and weighing the constancy of our united fancy: but should my present thraldom beget her distemper, my hopes were lost and perished for ever. And what may I expect less from one so truly loyal! No doubt, but she he's found as well as myself the real proof of that experiment. Love is ever most violent, when farthest divided from his object. So long as we have liberty to enjoy in seeing, what we may not more fully partake by enjoying, yet our eyes afford us some solace, to allay those extremes of love with the fruition of their presence. But when deprived of that benefit; and to supply the comfort of such an incomparable Object, we must make Grates and Spider-woven walls our pensive Consorts, would not imagination hold it above humane suffering? No, no; while we live, we are made to be Actors of passionate Scenes on this Theatre of love.  
Should all on Earth enjoy what they desire, Earth would become the period of their desires: further, poor mortals would not look, should they enjoy whatsoever they like. Resolve then Philocles, patiently to bear, what thy impatience cannot cure. And amidst these disgusts, advise her to patience in this thy restraint; that her anguish give not fresh fuel to thy discontent. Be it thy care, that she suffer not in thy cure. One is enough to perish, and too many by one; could misery fix on a lesser Subject than one.  
Setting then Pen to Paper, and accommodated by a convenient Messenger, in this manner he imparts his mind unto her.  

Restrained Philocles to Doriclea.  
GRieve not, my Dear, that I am here restrained,  
Mine heart lives the●e, th●●gh I be here confined;  
Cloth that is died in grain can ne'er be stained,  
Nor can occurrents shake a constant mind.  
Let me in thee but s●ch a freedom fi●de;  
And ●en let Fates, Friend's, Fortunes, all repine,  
I shall Doriclea's be, Doriclea mine.   
Thus confirming himself so individually hers, (though divided from her, by means of hers) as nothing may abridge the accomplishment of their desires, but death: with a cheerful brow he dissembles with grief: employing these tedious hours of his restraint in reading the stories of discontented Lovers. Where he found some in the way of enjoying of what they most affected, and suddenly Ixion-like deceived with a Cloud. Others as deeply plunged in despair of enjoying what they loved, and these above expectance found their desires crowned, where their hopes were nearly expired. And of these he made use as occasion served: sometimes to humble his hopes, lest they should mount or aspire above themselves. Again, were his hopes depressed; with other instances he found them raised: & these were the most usual consorts wherewith he conversed, in those retired walks whereto he was confined. But how heavily his constant Doriclea took his restraint, it is not easy to express: being not only deprived of his presence, the highest benefit which was admitted her: but equally suffering with him, conceiving how those extremities which he now suffered, were inflicted on him by her enraged Parents for the love which he bore her. These wrought strange effects in her passionate thoughts. Labouring sometimes by means of Friends, other sometimes by private policies, his freedom from durance: but the issue never seconded her desires: so as, she resolved to impose that upon herself freely, what her Philocles was enforced to suffer of necessity. But from these extremes we must now descend to other occurrents: and leave these two divided Lovers, to the relation of their own griefs, with this constant resolve; that nothing may divorce their loves, but their graves.   

CHAP. XIV.  
Doriclea understands by an aged Hermit of Mardanes practice: how he intends to enjoy her by indirect means: And how the Spells of Spurcina, the Enchantress with whom Mardanes contracted were ever frustrated, by the devout morning exercise of Doriclea, signing herself every morning in her going abroad with the sign of the Cross; a sovereign receipt against Spurcina's Charm.  
WIth what distaste our ancient Suitor Mardanes took Doriclea's rejection, we shall easisily gather by this story which happened in this manner. This contemptible worldling having sought by all means to enjoy his Mistress; who made the object of her thoughts of far ampler extent than riches; but all in vain: for besides their inequality of years, their disparity of disposition would ever run discord, and disrelish nothing more than union: to show the unworthiness of his debauched mind every way, what his fair proffers could not procure, he means by indirect ways to effect. Which by the notice of an aged Hermit became happily discovered.  
D●riclea, now in her voluntary retire, used to converse with very few: only sometimes it was her custom to repair to a pleasant sovereign Spring, to bathe herself according to the season of the year: near which there lived an old religious Hermit: a man of a strict and rigid life. To this devout man, had Doriclea often resorted, and with him conversed: from whom she had received much comfort, as she herself confessed. So as, coming one day occasionally to him, he imparted his mind fully and freely to her; which fell forth happily for her, as you shall hear hereafter.  
Daughter, 
The Herm●●● Speech to Doricle●.  quoth he, you are now in the prime of your youth; incline then your ear to one who he's now attained ripeness of age. I have been young as you are, and no doubt but addicted to like youthful vanities as others were. All which my aged sorrow must now rinse with tears. But let me tell you, of all those conflicts which I observed to be hottest, I found none more violent than the moderation of fancy. This was a Subject fit for youth: for other affections, they did not so much as attempt, much less taint so fair a feature. Nay, so wild is fancy, that unless it be timely kerbed, it incurs that infirmity which cannot be cured: and unless seasonably checked, it makes choice of those which deserve most to be rejected. This, I shall little need, Daughter, to apply to you: for your modesty promiseth far more discretion in fancy. Yet I must tell you, I hear what I abhor to relate. Wherewith abruptly breaking off, he demanded of her whether she knew not one Mard●nes? Very well, answered she; he was pleased sometimes to be my Suitor. It is true, said the Hermit, and he intends ere long to be your enjoyer. Mine, quoth she! Nay be patient, said the Hermit. I must tell you, he he's engaged himself in a desperate course to enjoy you. Your repulse barred him of his aims; now his practice is to enjoy you by indirect means. My Grave shall first receive me, answered Doriclea. Nay, this is the violent strain of a Woman, said the Hermit; you will rather die in the expression of a passion, then incline to any receipt to cure that passion. Pray you hear me. This evil Man, whom you so slighted, h'as lately contracted with an hateful hideous Hag, to practise on your person, by receiving something from you, that may indirectly procure him your affection. No longer since then yesterday, was it my fortune to be gathering Simples near Penell Hills; 
In Mapalia, circa oras Penellicollis sito, tetorrimae illius regionis venifices convenorunt, ubi quò iturse, quid perpetraturae, statuerunt.  near which place to a private grange had resorted sundry persons, and some of these of seeming quality, but all of them miserably exposed to that hateful profession. Where each discovered unto other whither they were to go, and what feats they were to do. Monstrous were their practices: most of them aiming at blood: and merely for revenge without hope of benefit to themselves. Others, though not so cruel, yet no less unjust in their attempts; were to practise plots and projects of love, which in short time should fall into such tragical hate, as nothing should compose the quarrel, but the Actor's life. Amongst which I heard one, whom the rest of that miserable Meniey, as I remember, called Spurcina; an ugly deformed Gamar she was: and she disclosed what she intended to do, being what she was persuaded to by one Mardanes; which was, that she should repair daily to your Father's house, and by some means or other, as by practising on something you might wear, or some money you might bestow, to procure him your love. And this she resolved to put in present execution. And this must you prevent by serious devotion. Let not the morning air breath on you, nor the rising Sun shine upon you, before that victorious sign of the Cross hath armed you. Such receipts will frustrate these deceits: they cannot surprise you, so devotion accompany you. This armour will shield your honour: and make that Enchantress fail in her fruitless labour. I have now told you what you are to do: thank yourself if you be deluded: seeing such means are proposed to you, to prevent it. Mean time, dear Daughter, my blessing rest upon you, as my prayers shall be for you, my entirest wishes with you. Desiring, that you may find such a choice as their virtues may cheer you; to which happy choice I commend you.  
Thus after a reverend salute, and humble adieu by Doriclea to this ancient Hermit; they both retired, but several ways. He to his Cell, she to herself: where imagine her, upon a due and serious discussion of every particular, touching the strange relation of that reverend Father, unloading her troubled breast, full of perplexed passions, after this manner.  
Unhappy Doriclea! is thy fortune such, as thou must not only be divided from those thou lovest, but by indirect means coupled to those thou loathest? What have I done, that I should thus incense those Superior powers against me? Have I at any time dishonoured their temples: or clothed my vices with pretended virtues? Have I violated my faith: or where I professed love, proved false? Have I ●●boured to delude a simple lover: or gloried in the conquest of my inferior? H●ve I not performed those sacred vows which piety enjoined me: or neglected that office which charity exacted of me? Were my professions of love directed for lucre, wanton dalliance, or pursuit of honour: or have I fashioned my habit to the fancy of the time, to please mine own humour? Did I ever cast out any light lures to catch a cock-brained lover: or expressed myself to the deservingst Suitor, too liberal of mine honour? Have I made the public street my Gallery: or desired unlawful looks to seize on my beauty? H'as my example given others liberty of offending: or afforded least hope to a light wand'ring eye of purchasing? Have I accompanied any presence with disdain: or requited any pious office with neglect? Did I ever wish any one's hurt: or requite true love with undeserved hate? Yes, yes, Doriclea, herein hast thou offended. Hadst thou loved Mardanes, he had never betaken himself to unjust practices. And must I either than love where I cannot affect, or make those I reject, practise what humantiy would detest? Injurious Mardanes! Hadst thou none to exercise thy spells nor enchantments on, but such an one who is not her own? This is impiety above precedent. What were it to enjoy, where thou canst never partake any joy: or enforce her thine, whom Magic incantation, no sincere affection haas confirmed thine? And this were thy case, Mardanes, in enjoying me. It is no sorcery can beget true fancy. Where indirect means procure love, tragic events produce hate. Desist then, unhappy man, from these assaults, which shall redound to thy shame, and clothe thee with infamy in succeeding times. Those hellish consorts, with whom thou conve●sest, nay, miserably contractest, are soon discomfited, when a more commanding Power shall countermand it. Pitiful practices! where should the innocentest soul find succour; or a succourless Maid harbour, should these receive effect to the desire of their Author? So limited then is their power, as they can practise nothing that is impure, upon a soul divinely pure. Practise then, Mardanes, what thou canst; thou shalt never enjoy what thou wouldst. I am better fortified then to be so surprised: stronger fenced then so foiled. Nor shall I cease to render thanks to him by whom I am, and by whom I am so well prepared: next under him to that devout man, by whom I am so well informed. Nor need I fear to be subdued, being so supported: nor relinquished, being so supplied.  
Nor were her resolves with less constancy seconded. Early and late offered she up the sacrifice of her Prayers. Constant was she in her care; to prevent all insuiug harm. Those ●sefull directions which she received from that old Hermit, she freshly retained. Which so far prevailed, as by her devout morning Exercise (being the season which the Enchantress most commonly used, ever hoping to take her unprovided) those odious fruitless Spells became ever frustrated. All which, Spurcina the Spell-woman afterwards confessed: when after her conviction for offences of more high and heinous quality, she publicly attested: that though by the procurement of Mardanes she had sought early and late to practise upon something received from her: yet could she never effect her own desires, though she had matter enough to work on, because Doriclea signed herself every morning in her going abroad with the sign of the Cross: which that ancient Hermit, whose name the Sorceress could not endure to hear, had prescribed for a sovereign receipt against her Charm.  
Thus lived Doriclea every way assailed and assaulted; but never vanquished nor discouraged. far more did she fear the welfare of her dear restrained Philocles: then the subtlety of these enchantments. His liberty she preferred before her own safety. Yet so far was she from procuring what she so entirely desired: as the continued jealousy of her Parent's declined● her hopes from ever effecting what she so much laboured. For to intercede herself for his liberty, she durst not; le●t it should increase their suspicion: and to intru●● any other in that suit, she had found it so fruitless, as it made her despair of all success. To a private retired walk enclosed with sweet breathed Sycomours, twice a day she usually repaired: where divided from the noise of the world, she would passionately converse with her own thoughts, and propose sundry devices for the freedom of her Philocles. Wherewith her fancy became so infinitely pleased: that though none of these took effect, yet i● contented her to imagine how she might by such means procure his liberty: whereof he remained deprived for his loyalty. And in thi● retired shade, o● Elysian Grove: for Art and Nature had expressed their distinct workmanships in it; sometimes should she chance to find the Witch Spurcina, which confirmed what the Hermit had affirmed: but bein● demanded by Doriclea, what occasion she had there: her excuses would appear n● less lame than herself. Sometimes pretending that she came thither to gather some Herbs or Salads: or else perceiving D●●●clea to be walking there, she came to beg som● relief at her charitable hands. But neither of these was her errand; but to practise what she intended, by some linen or woollen tha● might fall from her: which, though she no less maliciously then opportunately received, and by them practised, yet were her Spells ever defeated, her Charms frustrated by the incessancy of her devotion, as hath been formerly related.  
Thus Love's exposed to a twofold harm,  
A Parent's fury, and a Witches Charm:  
The first she cures by giving way to time;  
The last she frustrates with an Holy Sign.  
THe incomparable Ba●clay in his Mirror of Minde●, c●p. 8. discovering Norway to be a rude Nation, and with most men who have conversed or commerced with them, held infamous for Witchcraft: They, by report, (saith he) can sell Winds, which those that sail from thence do buy, equalling by a true prodigy the ●abulous story of Ulysses & Ae●●us. And these ●enell P●ggs, have affirmed the like, upon their own Confession.   

CHAP. XV.  
How Doriclea practised with Mellida her Maid for her escape: How she sought to delude her Mother: Her prevention: and how Androgeus her Father became enraged, upon the discovery of her affection.  
LOng had Doricleas' languishing thoughts breathed after the sight of her restrained Philocles: but her Parent's jealousy of the one side, and the distance of miles which divided him from her on the other side, so disheartened her hopes, as what she one hour intended, the next hour she reversed. But yet this would not so content her: love cannot be so satisfied. She finds herself divided from herself, so long as she becomes removed from her Philocles. On than she must, though all difficulties should oppose her: friends dissuade her: no hope of obtaining her purpose, encourage her. And now to expedite this Assay, she finds none fitter to commend her practice to then her Maid Mellida. A witty Wench, who knew well enough where her Mistress shoe pinched her: which if the Last of her invention could ease, she held it one of the best services that ever she could do her. And to her did Doriclea communicate her thoughts and counsels in this manner.  
O Mellida, thou knowest, and I blush that thou knowest, how my affection h'as been long time fixed on Philocles; and now thou seest, how he, on whom I have set my rest, is divided from me. O advise me then how I may enjoy his presence, whose absence ●s to me death. Alas, thou seest what discontents attend my unhappy state, while I am here by jealous eyes prevented, from enjoying what before all other things I have preferred. Deluded eyes may imagine that I have the world at will; because I am mine own Mistress: and want in nothing that may outwardly solace me. But little know these, how in enjoying what I have, it augments my discontent being deprived of that which I once had, but now have not. Address then the best advice thou hast; to afford me some comfort amidst these extremes. Without hope the heart would burst. Hope I retain, but in small measure, 〈◊〉 ●rom thee Mellida, I receive succour. F●r ● am barred all opportunity; watchful eyes being ever set over me: which continually labour my prevention, for repairing to him who is the ●ole object of my affection Commiserate then my case, good Mellida, and devise some means or other for me to enjoy his sight, without which I am lost ●or ever.  
Lost for ever answered Mellida! God forbid Mistress, that I should suffer that, if it be in my power to prevent. I had thought dying for love had been a thing quite out of request, in these days. But since our too kind hearts are made of such soft temper, some Salve must be provided either to harden them, and so make them less sensible: or procure the means to bring them to enjoy what they so much desire, and so make their sufferings more curable.  
Thou examines and searchest the ground of my grief, and understandest the means how thou mai●t make the unhappiest Woman alive infinitely happy. Prepare then by applying, what thou perceivest may soon cure: there is no task so difficult which ● shall not with a free embrace sustain, so I may but partake what I so incomparably desire. You do well, answered Mellida, thus to arm yourself against all difficulties: but surely you shall little need to stand in any great fear of what I shall enjoin you. I know little yet what may in time befall myself: and then I must submit myself to others advice, as you now vouchsafeto do to mine. For indeed the very wisest in business of this nature, are ever found the greatest fools▪ when they come to advise themselves. But Mistress, you have ever heard, how Love delights in nothing more than in playing the dissembler. AnteMasks are ever ushered in by Whi●●lers. And this part must you act, o● I know not what way else to supply you. Love is personated with most grace, when it entertains a disguise. And this habit must you undertake: and now when I think of it, you may furnish yourself with a convenient disguise; you know Proclus our Page, put upon you his Su●t; I shall procure you it, when he is asleep. With which you may privately and without suspicion convey yourself. And if your Mother inquire of you, I shall acquaint her, that you are at rest: and so prevent all present discovery for one night: mean time, by the benefit of silent night, and the conduct of your constant friend Alcaus, you may in time come where you would be: while I am left to the mercy of the winds. For what may I answer for myself when you are gone? Well, I will hazard a service for your content and solace: I shall hold myself happy in my endeavour, so you ●n this assay do but prosper.  
Doriclea needed no quickener to this motion. Winged are her desires to second Mellidas advice. And having now fitted herself with Proclus Suit, towards Alcaus her conductor she hastens her course. Who expressed himself very ready to do her any friendly office; becoming her Guide, in directing and accompanying her to her dearest Friend. But as ill success often attends best designs, these two were unhappily stayed by the Watch, upon this occasion. A Gentle woman's Daughter of good quality and great fortunes that very night chanced to be stolen away: upon which occasion, pursuit was made: and especial direction given, that if any person should suspiciously or unseasonably pass by the Watch, they should be stayed and examined. And such was the fate of unfortunate Doriclea; who surprised when least feared, must of necessity with her Conductor, remain under the Constable's hands till the next morning: for truth was, the Officer (by what accidents I know not, but you may partly imagine) was held altogether unfit that night to examine them, which of all others, happened the worst for her advantage. For the very next morning betimes were all places set for staying of Doriclea, by express directions from her Parents. So as being found upo● search, the poor amorous Girl was stripped o● her Page's habit, and re-attyred in her own▪ Neither could Alcaeus, without much meane● and mediation of friends, procure his peace. You may suppose with what discontent our disappointed Doriclea returned to her tedious ●●dging● sorrow was her best melody; and her choicest music an incessant Lachrymae. For though her restraint was before sufficient; and her Mother's eyes too too vigilant: yet now were their ●ares and fears more numerous than before, which beget far more intention to this charge then before.  
Many times would she relate her gounds of discomfort to her Mellida; who, poor Wench, became so discouraged by the sinister success of her Plot: as the best reply she ●ould now shape to her unhappy Mistress; was either silence: or, good Mistress be content, there is no hope to escape. Learn to forget him, seeing you must not enjoy him. But this wrought no effect upon her affectionate desires. One assay she holds not sufficient enough to express her love to him, whom ●he esteems so dear. One night therefore, being impatient of her disconsolate restraint, she● practiseth with an aged Woman, who was her Mother's hen wife: to change apparel with her, hoping to receive better success under that disguise, than her late Pages habit. But so well was this old Woman charmed by her Mother, as she became Doricleas' discoverer: so as, her Mother meeting her, and pulling off her Muffler, this device received no better speed than the former. Thus was Doriclea ever practising, but never prospering. Nor was her fancy so lightly fixed, as to give over upon receipt of two foils. As she was constantly planted in her affection; so she made it her usual task, to labour after the enjoyment of him, to whom she was so nearly ●ngaged in her loyalty and devotion. Rich booties sweeten the greatest difficulties. A low-creeping spirit, deserves not to enjoy the benefit of fortune. Nor that love which is waited on by pusillanimity, the just reward or recompense of fancy. And this was the resolution of constant Doriclea; who, though none more observant of Parents command; nor tender of her fame; yet her Philocles mu●● not be forgot.  
His restraint from her, and her division from him work such strange effects, as sleep● becomes a stranger to her. Nightly she as●● her pillow counsel how she may attain wha● her longing desires so much affect: and she resolves once again to put in practice what h● unhappy fortune had hitherto crossed her in▪  
Suddenly than one night, when she imagined all the family, save only such as she employed in this plot, to be fast asleep, she pri●●ly departed forth of her Chamber ●in●●ding by that means to make escape. 〈◊〉 ●a●ents eyes are ever vigilant: and their eare●●f quickest hearing: especially, where th●●east jealousy begets in them a thought of fear●▪ or enjoins them to a seasonable preventing care. This might appear well in Eurycle● who the very same hour lying waking, an● hearing the entry door creek, presently arose, and lighting of a candle, repaired to her Daughter's lodging; where drawing near to her Daughter's bed, instead of her Doriclea she found a Mamme● or feature so artificially made up in her night attire, as in represented her Daughter to life. Bo●lster'd up was this Puppet with Pillows, as if Doricl●● had been ●itting up on end in her bed: which at the first ●ight deluded her inquisitive Mother, imagining that it could be no other but her Daughter. So as, calling upon Mellida, she resolved to return to her chamber. Mellida, who all this while lay shaking and trembling in her bed, doubting that she might be called in question, upon Doricleas' discovery: as one betwixt sleeping and waking, asked who was there? And perceiving it to be E●ryclea: oh Mistress, quoth she, ●what h'as distempered your rest, to be out a bed at this unseasonable time of night? Mellida, said she, y●u take great care of your Mistress, to suffer her to sit up in bed and ●atch cold after this manner. And drawing near the bed, to put her Daughter's arms and higher part of her body too within sheets: perceiving it not to be her Daughter: but a Baby-clouts only to delude her. It is not easy to declare what extremity of passion she conceived: sometimes accusing Mellida to be guilty of the practice: threatening her with the severest punishments that Law could inflict, if she told her not forthwith whither her Daughter was fled. But she, dissembling Girl, pretended that she was never made acquainted with any such plot: seemingly wondering, what time her Mistress could have for making up any such piece, without her knowledge. And to allay Eury●l●as fury towards her, as one compassionating her case, she admired how any one could practise to delude their Mother in such manner▪ shaving been ever so tender of her welfare.  
While they were thus debating Doriclea's escape, they might hear one rustling below: which Euryclea observing, she run haftily down, imagining to find some of her servants made privy to this plot, and by that means to rescue her Daughter. But far above her expectance, she finds none other but Doriclea: who having forgot the key of the Courtgate by which she was to go forth, was turning back to fetch it. Who meeting with her Mother, what an unwelcome encounter she received, I leave to you to judge: being far above the art of passion to express. But Doriclea set as good a countenance on the matter as possibly she could: telling her Mother that she did but only this to try her. And that if she intended any such escape, she would have been better provided than it appeared she was. But all this satisfied her Mother nothing: for to increase the long-grounded jealousy of her Daughter's affection towards Philocl●s: whereof sh● had received so many apparent arguments and demonstrations, as nothing could be more probable, being to every observing eye visible: chancing that very night to search her Daughter's pocket, she found a Letter bearing Philocles character, directed to her in this manner.  
Philocles' second Letter during his restraint.  
DEarest, look on me, and with an impartial eye and compassionate heart tell me if any one ever suffered more in the delay of her enjoyment whom he prized most: or suffered more in the burden of their indignities whom he valued least. What sad ominous star is it that so misguides me, or dark sullen cloud that hangs over me, as to live still thus divided; and by an injurious restraint, divorced from that only object where my thoughts are affianced, and the constant zeal of a truly-loyall Servant devoted? I 〈◊〉 daily travelling in pursuit of you, yet fruitless in my pursuit; some sinister occurrent or other estrangeth me from you. Did he ever live, that did more unfeignedly love; or could more readily and really sacrifice his life for the purchase of his love? And what solace to recompense so faithful a service? Shall my harvest, where I expected so good a crop, requite my long-languishing hopes with tares: and close the unhappy Scene of a lingering life with fruitless tears? O reflect on these, and expedite his bliss, who never yet could paint out his grief's ●ith deceiving colours; nor delude the Object he affected, and to whose sole choice ●e stood affyed with feigned ay-mes: nor di●●ate with tongue, nor express by Pen what he first conceived not in heart.  
Confident I am (nor is my confidence grounded on weak presumptions) that ●●ny officious Agents, whose particular aims made them Rhetorical Counselors, interposed themselves to divert our choice, and offer to our affections reasons of change: yea, such who applied these dangerous receipts to us both: to work their own ends the surer, and ingratiate themselves with us both, under a friendly pretence but forged colour. Our own bosom's whe● they shall become unlocked each to other, may one day mutually discover; and smile with pleasure at such a self-loving deceiver. B●t the wind, I hope, is got into another Coa●t. So as, I doubt not but your discretion will henceforth prefer a constant choice, before 〈◊〉 inconstant trust. I have prepared the way (and that by a Reverend one, in whom life and learning do equally shine) to consummate whatsoever hath been so long proposed, and as I hope, mutually concluded; so you be but pleased only to breathe on these lines with your pious modest assent, and confirm me, which, of all things earthly, may only cheer me, in being, and happy in so being,  
inviolably Yours.  
So numerous were these private plots, confirmed with amorous Letters, as Euryclea could hold no longer from imparting these passages to her passionate Husband Andr●g●us, who became so enraged upon this last discovery of her affection, as he could contain himself within no bounds of patience. So as Doriclea could not be half so serious nor solicitous after the pursuit of her restrained Philocles; as Androgeus was to chastlse that too much freedom of his enamoured Daughter. It chanced, that as he walked one evening not without much discontent; he might hear● the voice of his Doriclea, from a private Arbour near adjoining. Whereto drawing near and giving good attention, he might understand what grief she conceived, in procuring her Parent's displeasure so highly against her; wherewith she seemed so infinitely afflicted, as it struck tears in the old man's eyes: so as drawing nearer the Arbour, with purpose to comfort her, he accosted her in this manner.  
How now Doriclea, what mean these tears? Want you aught that may conduce to your content? Is out love either so cold, or our care so light, as either of these should be occasion to you of tears? These, trust me, are no pleasing airs to the ear of a Father, nor suiting with the condition of a Daughter.  
Lachryme, replied she, should not only be in the eye, but stamps of more retentive sorrow in the heart. A Pilgrim's passage is such a passionate progress, as it cannot be pursued without sobs: nor continued without sighs. I have found sufficient occasion for that Music: nor can I eye that place, which may afford other melody. A continual Sinner and a rar● sigher promiseth small comfort hereafter. Our days are but few and evil. Not an hour without some crime to accompany it. Let the Soul never receive her surfeit of sorrowing; till she he's first found in herself a loath to sinning. But in these, dear Sir, there is nothing that retains in it more sense; then the remembrance of my disobedience. Your discontent haas begot in me the deepest impression; nor shall I desire longer to live, than my endeavours shall not be directed to regain your opinion. Your frown hath been ever my greatest fear: which if my too liberal youth h'as too carelessly incurred: relinquish me for ever, if my penitential tears shall not labour to redeem. More would I speak, if my constant zeal and reverence to your person would permit. Be it yours to command: Doriclea's to obey.  
This divine rhapsody wrought so strongly on Androgeus, as it were hard to say, whether she was more ready to crave pardon, or he to grant it. Soon was his passion allayed, and to compassionate tears resolved. More he could not wish then she had professed: nor she in the office of obedience perform more than he expected.   

CHAP. XVI.  
How Mellida one morning le's fall her Glove; whereon Spurcina the Enchantress practiseth supposing it to be Doriclea's. Mellida falls in love with Mardanes: and discloseth her passion to her Mistress: who promiseth her best assistance.  
MArdanes all this while desisted not from instigating Spurcina to put in practise her impious design: in pursuit whereof that hideous Hag was no less forward, then if the issue or success thereof solely imported herself. And now at last she holds herself persuaded that she he's got her purpose, which happened upon this occasion. Having, as her usual custom was, many times repaired to that private walk, which Doriclea so much frequented, it chanced one day as this Beldame was entering the walk, she might perceive with her old ●●mmie eyes a Gentlewoman, whom she took ●or Doriclea, hastily leaving the walk, and with more haste than good speed, as one fixed ●pon some present occasion, letting fall her Glove. An happy opportunity, as Spurcina thought, to effect her malicious design. With much joy therefore she returned, acquainting Mardanes the prime agent in this hellish bu●●sse, what good means she had now to bring her purpose about: which she promised him to effect with such speed, as his own desires ●ould not wish more haste: nor his privatest thoughts better success. For, said she, I shall by my secret art, make her more eager in the pursuit of your love, then ever yet you were in pursuit of hers. Which so transported this love-besotted Mardanes, as his imagination became now wholly fixed and fired in the conceit of his marriage-night. Sometimes thinking what sweet parlance his enchanted Doriclea would use to him; with what amorous embraces she would express her love unto him; with what variety of winning discourse she would entertain him. Surfeiting more after this manner with the conceit of it, then if he had obtained the real fruition of it, wherein his deluded thoughts might seem to close with that opinion of the Poet: 
No doubt, but th' fancy of a marriage-night  
Presents far more than th' actual delight.   
And so it fared with Mardanes: nothing now pleaseth his palate but the imaginary presentment of his Doriclea; of whom he hold● himself as good as possessed, if all prove 〈◊〉 which his Sorceress h'as professed. But as th● Devil h'as been still a Liar, so he presents himself to her a cunning dissembler: Doricle● must be reserved for an other Owner: a mo●● deserving and complete Lover. Howsoever, this Enchantress Spurcina blesseth the morning that gave her so fair an occasion. And 〈◊〉 she conceives herself to have happily found it, so she no less speedily practiseth on it: supposing it still to be Doricleas', the sole Object of rejected Mardanes.  
Great and unsearchable is God's permission● in suffering practices of this condition. Wh●the● it be to deter others by these example● not to be too secure; but ever watchful, seein● every hour presents an enemy so deceitful▪ Or else to try and search the constancy and faith of his beloved Champions: who, li●● pure gold, are ever more and more refined; when they are thus tried, and by Satan's Ministers buffeted. Yet is their power so bounded and limited, as though they work on th● flesh, yet can they not touch nor taint the ●ou●● whose dignity is such, that as it became redeemed with the highest price, so it become● secured by adhering to him that bought it● from the injury of their power. True it is, that some fall away, and that miserably, by lying themselves open and giving way to the Devil's subtlety: who under many forms and semblances insinuates himself to their knowledge: and by this means seizeth on their deluded weakness: bringing some to lay viol●nt hands upon themselves: others to re●ounce their ●aith: others to labour by all indirect means how to procure the effecting of their unlawful desires. But who are these, but such who have left God by preferring the counsel of the Witch of Endor, before the divine wisdom of their Maker. And justly do such suffer, by dereliction of their Creator, and in a violent way exposing themselves to inevitable danger.  
Now, what strange effects Spurcina wrought by practising on poor Mellidas scattered Glove, shall forthwith appear. For what private Spells, Charms, or Incantations she had used, Spurcina and her Familiar know best: But unhappy Mellida must feel the b●unt of it. Poor Wench! She now feels what she never felt before: a strange rising at her stomach with an infinite desire to see Marda●●s. Whatsoever she sets her eye on, she verily thinks it presents the feature of Mard●nes: and in that lovely manner, as her very heart leaps for joy with the conceit of enjoying so accomplished a Lover. Poor accomplishment! For what part had Mardanes in him that might deservingly beget love; or merit the acceptance of a Mistress? But s● so miserably had Spurcina's enchantments wrought upon her bewitched fancy: as N●cissus, for all his lovely proportion, seemed ●vulgar Object, no, a contemptible Subject▪ being compared to her Mardanes people Which in a passionate expression to she being jealous that none should overhear h● she discovered in this manner!  
What in love Mellida? Nay, I know no● it is a thing I was never hitherto acquaints with; and if now, too soon. I know 〈◊〉 well what to think on't; but if Mard●● be not a proper handsome man, I am 〈◊〉 deceived. I remember well he made som● times love to my Mistress: and I wond● much she should so neglect him, being 〈◊〉 complete a Gentleman as all Europe, in 〈◊〉 conceit, cannot compare with him. 〈◊〉 what is all this to thee Mellida? Canst th●● either think so well of thyself, or so men●ly of him, as to imagine that he will fall 〈◊〉 from the Mistress to the Maid (a fa●● must confess, too common) or step from 〈◊〉 Canopy Curtain to a Trucklebed? No Mellida; content thyself with brown●● bread: such a dainty dish is reserved fo● choicer tooth. And yet me thinks, if a goo● conceit of myself do not mad me; I fin● something in me that may deserve his lo●● and merit the title of a Wife. If Marriage were only to be made by equality of blood, or fortunes: many good faces would be enforced to bestow their beauties on poor Husbands: yea, many a well-natured Girl might wed this year, and beg the next. I have read in my time, how jove fell in love with his Milkmaid l●; Apollo with Daphne; Neptune with Hesione; Theseus with Ariadne; Perseus with Andromeda; Alcides with Omphale: and is there any such disparity betwixt Mardanes and Mellida? Well; as I mean not to be too confident, neither is there cause that I should utterly despair. Good fortune h'as before this fallen into many Wenches laps unexpected, and why may not the like befall me? None of these bore more true love to their Suitors, than I do to my Mardanes. And, oh, that I might call him mine! For I fear much, in becoming less than mine, I shall become less than mine own.  
And just as she spoke these words came in Doriclea; at whose presence a fresh vermilion die bestowed a new complexion on Mellida. Which her Mistress perceiving, having had experience of the very like passion in herself, demanded the cause. And she, though at first seeming dainty, framing many apron-excuses, but so far from purpose, as she had far better said nothing: begun at last to disclose her passion to her Mistress; acquainting her how she was infinitely in love with Mardanes. Whereat Doriclea could not ch●se at f●st but smile, ask her what she could see in him, that should move her to fall in love with him? See in him, answered Mellida! well, Mistress, quoth she, you made a strange choice, when for Mardanes you took Philo●les in exchange. Why, pray thee Wench, said Doriclea, dost thou hold him for so proper a man? I trow, I do, answered Mellida; and upon condition I might enjoy him, and purchase his favour; were he the poorest Beggar alive, I would not change my state with the greatest Emperor. Sufficiently could not Doriclea admire this strange humour in her Maid: and the more, in regard she never found her formerly affected to love any: but of all others Mardanes, from whose affection she had sometimes dissuaded h●r self, when he was a Suitor to her. And a purpose she had to have chid her, for her too much forwardness: but perceiving pearled tears trickling down her cheeks, she quickly altered what she intended. She found them both drawing one yoke: to allay then her discontent, she became her Physician, who in her own respect was no less a Patient.  
Nay grieve not woman, quoth Dori●lea, for the matter. Since thou art now fledged in birdlime, thou must seek means how to unwind thyself. Thou hast been ready in my greatest extremes to afford me thy best advice, and to ●ngage thyself to peril for my sake; so as I cannot choose but reflect on thee, if at any time I look upon my ●elfe. Two things then I must advise thee to; or never expect success in this amorous enterprise; Silence and Patience. Do not discover thy affection to any: restrain thy looks when thou art in his company. Next this, be sure thou show no impatience, if at any time crossed in thy expectance. Thou seest how many sharp encounters I have grappled with: and little nearer a conquest than I was at first: yet must I not suffer my hopes to be so extinguished. No task can be long, where hope pretends a purchase of love. Look up then Wench, cheerfully; let not the subtlest Artist draw from thy look, the least blush of love, or line of fancy. Wing thy desires with hope, that hope may crown thy expectance. And proceed in a temperate pursuit, since thou canst not dispense with thy choice; in which assay I faithfully promise thee my best assistance.  
This could not choose but highly cheer loveinveigled Mellida● to find her Mistress her directress: by having her for her adviser who formerly was advised by her. But so strongly did those amorous Spells work upon her, as these rays of comfort shone not long upon her. Impatient was her unbounded affection of delay, which drove her into passion above measure; as by this sorrowful 〈◊〉, whose choicest melody is lachryma, you may perceive hereafter.   

CHAP. XVII.  
Mellida's passionate love.  
PAssions of the mind are not wholly suppressed, when they seem restrained. Of all which, none work with more contrariety, than those which arise from a troubled fancy. Love runs with too strong a current too fierce a torrent to be stayed at an instant. This, poor love-inthralled Mellid● felt too well experienced in her, when that▪ which so lately seemed to cheer her most, doth now most afflict her: nay, even that which so seemingly afforded her the sovereignest cure, now becomes the only producer of her care. Such strange effects had these Spells of hateful Spurcina brought forth; as all was struck out of order, though at the first appearance nothing but promised all success to the undertaker. But miserable were those distractions which her enchantments bred through the whole family; but principally on Mellida, who now overcome with a deep jealousy; imagined, that whatsoever Doriclea her Mistress had professed, were expressions merely dissembled. And that her real love towards Mardanes was such, as she would prove her Corrival rather than Assistant, by interceding for herself in this amorous employment. Which groundless suspicion of hers received life from that which if her deluded thoughts had not misguided her, might have discovered to her, how infinitely she stood bound to her Mistress for her love. For discreet Doriclea perceiving the passionate affection of Mellida; and desiring nothing more than to bring her in a way of enjoying, of what she was so eagerly pursuing; resolved of a course that might expedite this design: and this was, to express all shows of affection to Mardanes: as if she intended nothing more than to retain him her constant servant, whom she had formerly rejected: and to redeem that neglect with such arguments of love, that the world might take notice that he and none but he was the man whom she affected. Which relation (so ready is fame to disperse herself upon every occasion) no sooner vented itself abroad, than her Parents, supposing her love to be now declining from Philocles, infinitely rejoiced. Nor was ensnared Mardanes less transported, hoping e'er long to enjoy what his desires had so long pursued. But with this was jealous Mellida no less afflicted: imagining that no hopes could accompany her suit, where her Mistress affection had taken place. Thus in this Comedy of Errors were all things confusedly carried, and by as doubtful an issue attended. Mardanes loves Doriclea, and he is loved by M●llida: and Mellida thinks Mardanes loved by Doriclea; when all her task is, how she may espouse Mard●nes unto Mellida. Again, Doriclea's Parents think, that their Daughter h'as relinquished Philocles, and solely fixed her affection on Mardanes; whereas the show of love she pretends to Mardanes; is only to prepare a way for her enjoyment of Philocles.  
But this little contents distressed Mellida: she collects by what she sees, the aim of what she most fears. Her poor simple heart is so far from dissembling, as she verily thinks these Love-signes and tokens of her Mistresses, cannot but proceed from the heart, and what hope then left for her to enjoy her Sweetheart? The meditation of these drove her into such extremes, as in the most disconsolate manner that ever accompanied perplexed Lover, she discovered her discontent, with as much privacy as the retiredness of the place could afford; that the Air might be only witness of her grief, while she became her own relater.  
Unhappy Mellida! hadst thou none to make choice of, but one who doth despise thee? None to impart thy thoughts to, but one who will deceive thee? Alas! thy fortunes must not aspire to such happiness, as to enjoy the embraces of Mardanes. One of higher state prevents thy suit. He and thyself have now got one Mistress. Poor rejected Mellida! What Sanctuary mayst thou retire to? Or what affectionate friend mayst thou impart thy mind to? It was not done like a loving Mistress to promise her poor Maid assistance: and to betray her trust, where she reposed most confidence. She might have dissuaded thee from thy choice, by acquainting thee how she meant to enjoy him herself: and so discouraged thy hopes at the first, rather then thus delude thee at the last. I should have quickly desisted, though the loss of my love had shortened the line of my life, had I but known how she stood affected. But under so fair a semblance to shroud a dissembling countenance, and make a show of affection, when it is guilded with treason; should I freely remit it, Love's Soveraigue would not so easily pardon it. 'Las! what a poor conquest he's Doriclea got, in her competition with Mellida? who had never attempted what she now affecteth; had not Doriclea first rejected, whom she now esteemeth. The ground of Mellida's loving, was Doriclea's leaving. And can she now have the heart to love, whom she did sometimes leave, because what she did so scornfully leave, Mellida begins now faithfully to love? Did her distaste beget my love, and must my love now beget her distaste? Well; this does meanly requite me, if she would remember what fidelity she he's found in me. There was no night so dark, no task so hard; which with a free bosom I entertained not, so she might enjoy what she had not. Philocles then was the only man in her eye, and I her Agent which she wrought by. Proper parts were the Adamants of her affection: and these she found in none so well to life portrayed as in her Philocles. Mardanes was then a rough-hewen Swain, whose presence she so much hated, as she estranged herself from that place which he frequented. And must he be now entertained, because he is by poor Mellida affected? Well, I am glad that the love of her Maid h'as changed her mind, and advanced him to the choice of a Mistress. Let my loss be his gain; my deprival of what I desire most, the enjoyment of her whom he expected least. The ruin of a poor Maid is all that she can have; which cannot redound much to her honour, seeing she, on whom she so much relied, and to whom her secretest counsels were imparted, became the only instrument to undo her.  
Doriclea having overheard some of these distempered passions of lovesick Mellida, could contain herself no longer; but interrupting her in this manner, resolved by a contrary cure to allay the extremity of this distemper.  
How now Mellida, h'as love so distracted you; or too much liberty of enjoying your own desires so much entranced you; as to become thus forgetful of what you are, whom you serve, or whose affections you so highly deserve? Must my endeavours addressed for your good be so interpreted? My desire of your advancement so recompensed? Is your conceit so mean of me, that these expressions of my love and familiar respect to Mardanes proceeds merely from my own affection, without relation to yourself? Or, that I did purposely leave him, with a resolution that whensoever you made choice of him, I would love him? Trust me Mellida, this distempered fancy tastes of a frenzy. These humours will make your constantest friends your professed foes. Shake off this jealousy▪ lest it become thy mortal enemy: I am the same I have professed, nor will I fail in aught I have professed, so thy ill-grounded suspicion divert not my aim; which effect is it produce, blame thyself. I know well there is no way for thee to attain thy desires but by this means. He must first take knowledge of their love, who love him not, before ever thou canst enjoy him who loves thee not. Doriclea must take upon her the person of Mellida, and Mellida be taken for Doriclea, before ever Mardan●● make his Bride of Mellida. What I intent, I will not yet discover: only let me advise thee to restrain 〈◊〉 indiscreet humour: persuading thy, self that Mardanes had never received a graceful countenance from Doriclea, but in hope of advancing Mellida. And that my better thoughts are so far from domineering in thy ruin (which were a poor conquest indeed) as it shall be my principal ai●e to prevent it, so thy indiscretion cross not my design. Let it suffice thee, that though it concern thee most, thou mayst be seen in it least. So present I am in others affairs, so weak in mine own; as I am confident, unless some unexpected opposition divert me; in such a successive manner to manage it, as the issue shall conduce to thy profit, my credit, in so fairly carrying it, as it may express the affectionate office of a Mistress to her servant.  
These last words comforted poor Mellida's dejected heart so much, as those seeds of jealousy which she before conceived, are now suppressed. With destilling eyes she acknowledgeth herself bound to so kind a Mistress: who interposeth herself for her preferment. She laments nothing more than her late suspicion: which, as it was planted on weak grounds, so her humble desire is, that her Mistress would forgive and forget it, as she seriously vows never hereafter to harbour it. She submits herself wholly to her direction in this high project of her affection. Wherein, if her endeavours prosper, ●he becomes her obliged creature for ever: if otherwise, she will become humbly thankful, seeing her affectionate endeavours were no less, though they proved less useful. This said, they retired, for the closing of the day approached; which gave more freedom to Doriclea's working thoughts to contrive what might close best with these impatient desires of her Maid, and what might procure content to herself; which seemed as yet so far divided from all hope, as there appeared not yet so much as the least opportunity to afford them help: though more hope of success to her Maid then herself, wherein she rejoiced no less than for herself. But strange occurrents oppose themselves to her designs: so as, whatsoever at the first view promised no less than a prosperous close, became, as you shall hereafter understand, darkened with a Cloud. Albeit. Doriclea's constancy appeared such, as the difficulty of no task, could deter her resolution to attempt.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
Philocles procures his liberty: and by a faithful Messenger, though to to his apparent danger, privately acquaints Doriclea with his delivery: and assigning here place whereto she might safely repair, if she could possibly make escape.  
LIttle did Doriclea expect in this her pursuit after Mellida's success, that she should hear such good news of her Philocles liberty, which he procured upon this occasion. Divers Persons of good quality were so taken with the pleasing discourse and company of Philocles, as they usually resorted to him, being admitted by his Keepers freely to come and converse with him. Now it happened one day, in these their accustomary visits, that his visitants were pleased to use a little more freedom in a sociable way, than they had formerly done. Which, whether it was purposely intended or no, I know not: but brimming healths must go round, and such noble Friends remembered, as in common civility must not be neglected. Which Philocles, (though naturally most abstemious) observes for company sake, lest he should be taxed of an unsociable disposition, in refusing what was generally entertained. But with such hot pursuit were these Bacchanals exercised, as his Keeper's brains were so mudded and in Lethe steeped; that they had far more desire to take one Nap with Morpheus, then to taste one Cup more with Bacchus. Which strange distemper appearing more in these then any of all the company, some have imputed to Opium, put, as was thought, into his Keeper's Cups, to bring them asleep, and by that means to expedite his escape.  
Howsoever it happened, Philocles having first taken his civil adieu of those Gentlemen who purposely came to visit him: and to prevent all occasion of their accusation, privately betook him for a little to his Chamber; and afterwards by the assistance of an under-Porter who ever highly respected and honoured him, he was let out by the Porter's Lodge; and shortly arrived where he intended at a friends house of his, where he was kindly and hospitably entertained: having formerly upon divers mutual offices betwixt them so strongly engaged one another, as no respect could be too entire, no undertaking too great, wherein either might tender to other the professed curtsy of a votive Brother. But as there is no earthly sweet but h'as his sour accompanying it: so enfranchised Philocles could not rejoice ●o much in his delivery from restraint; as he found cause upon his friends report to conceive just ground of discontent. So strangely be all our inferior joys interveyned with griefs: as no day so clear but it may close in a Cloud. And so it fared with perplexed Philocles, whose late-enjoyed freedom brought him the saddest news that could ever possibly enter any true Lover's ears: for he heard, how his Doriclea, since his restraint had estranged her affection from him, and fixed it on Mardanes, her sometimes rejecte● Suitor; and that their nuptials were to be solemnised soon after. Pleasing were his former Fetters to these tidings: each faculty had lost his function, every Organ his motion, and could find no answer to such a relation.  
Small fears find tears, which may supply a tongue,  
Small griefs are speakers, when great griefs are du●be.  
But recollecting himself, as one unwilling to give such way to passion, as not to moderate it with reason: after an enforced smile, he addresseth himself to his friend in this sort.  
Trust me, firm friend, I can scarcely give my theughts leave to conceit or harbour the least jealousy of Doriclea's inconstancy. Nay, so well am I persuaded of her loyalty, as I verily think she would rather give way to the extremest encounters of faith, then admit of the least breach of fate. No; Doriclea's vows cannot so easily be infirnged; nor those divine virtues which adorn her, so blemished: nor those strong ties betwixt us, so dissolved. God grant it prove so, answered his friend; as I hope it will. Reports are commonly deceiving, so as you do wisely not too credulously to incline to them. After such discourses as these, his friendly Host brought this perplexed Guest to his Chamber; where after some merry passages purposely occasioned to allay his discontents, he left him to his rest.  
But he left him to that which he could not get: for on two several tasks he bestowed this tedious night: the one no less pleasing, than the other dis-relishing. For the former part of the Night, he bestowed on the thoughts of that familiar conference, amorous, but harmless dalliance, sacred vows, immutable seals, mutually passed betwixt them. These made the hours of sable night, so delightful, as no Euphuus golden slumber could so infinitely cheer him. He was wholly extafied with the grateful remembrance of these imaginary fancies. But leaving these, and reflecting on those which he so lately heard related: he found hours far longer in their progression, than the other were, running so pleasantly upon that harmonious descant of affection.  
Doriclea, false, said he! may that tongue be ever silent that shall utter it; that injurious conceit a corrasive to itself, that shall believe it. And yet these relations cannot be so generally dispersed without some ground. Opportunity may do much where Parents assent gives way. Thy restraint, Philocles, and discontinuance in thy suit might work strange effects. He is rich who is thy Corrival: and Women must love to live, aswell as live to love. Thy impoverished quality is a mighty eyesore to fancy. Wealth is a good salve for age: and though she cannot affect him as he is, she may hug him for what he he's. Marriages go not altogether by joining of hearts but hands. His store will so highly improve her state, as it will enforce fancy, and raise her to what thy fortunes may not aspire, the title of a Lady. And yet me thinks all this should little moye the constant and loyal breast of Doriclea. Heaven's cannot choose but frown on breach of faith: which is ever attended by an heavy fate. Yea; but admit she be compelled; what means may she find to resist it? Parents will is a command: and as she he's ever borne the modesty of a Maid, so he's she retained the duty of a Daughter, and obedience of a child. Parents command then might far prevail with her: seeing obedience was ever so much preferred by her: as all fears had been before this time prevented, had not this parental sacrifice restrained her. Well; be it so. Patience shall be my Crown: my prayers for her success. No grief, shall so much surprise me, as the desire of her happiness shall delight me. Mean time, I will suspend my judgement: and expect better than I hear: but if the issue second this report, I hope soon after that an everlasting retire from Earth shall cure my care.  
Thus passed Philocles the lingering night, estranged from nothing more than the thought of rest. At last perceiving Aurora's dishevelled tresses, dispersing her golden beams through every corner of his restless room; he leaps out of bed, and having made himself ready, and performed those morning vows which his devotion had enjoined him; He sets Pen to Paper, and like a poetical Lover, in an amorous manner, addresseth his last night's supposed vision, to his ●oriclea: making a dream of love, by shadowing those jealous fears for the loss of his love in a Dream.  

Philocles supposed Dream of Doriclea.  
WHat sacred Spells my throbbing heart surprise!  
Sweet dew of sleep hath quite forsaken mine eyes.  
Some startling dreams I have, which more appall  
My Soul●, then if I had no sleep at all.  
Sometime I dreaming see, and sigh to see,  
A Sable-sullen cloud hang over me  
And menacing a storm: thou full of fears  
This to prevent, resolves to pearled tears:  
But more thou weep'st, the more provoked thovart,  
The fight whereof wounds my relenting hart.  
Now do I see my Danä in a tower  
Tempted untainted with a golden shower.  
Now my fair Semele, feeding loves-flame  
In her pure breast, consumed with the same.  
Which visions were but shadows of thine,  
Or mere conceptions of Prometheus' shrine,  
Which once enlivened by an heavenly fire,  
Might to a numerous Family aspire.  
Sometimes, me thought, Isickles sought to sip  
Ambrosean Nectar from thy roseate lip;  
And this I checked, and did incensed seem,  
Telling Old-age, frost would not suit with green▪  
Which just reproof, me thought, thou entertained  
With a sweet smile, the goal at which I aimed.  
Whence overjoyed, I culled thee, where thou stood,  
But like Ixion, I embraced a cloud.  
My sacred Genius succour me, and keep  
My waking thoughts from such an ominous sleep!  
Yet in these Dreams more comfort did I take,  
Fed with conceit, then when I did awake;  
For dreaming, I enjoyed thee; but that bliss  
By waking vanished; while I breathed out this:  
" The Dorian strain was once th' best melody,  
" Had I Doriclea now 'twere so with me!  
But since t' embrace thee, dreaming still I seem,  
O that my life were a continued Dream!   
But this dreaming vein did not hold long with him: he resolves to acquaint her in an other strain; and tell her truly that he was waking when he wrote it. And the Character of this Letter must express the benefit of his freedom; signifying unto her, how his late restraint was now changed into liberty; which privilege he had rather for ever lose, then be deprived of the continuance of her fancy. To expedite this affectionate design, he directs his Letter by the conduct of a faithful Messenger, though to his apparent danger: acquainting Doriclea with his delivery: and assigning her a place whereto she might safely repair, if she could possibly make escape. Delay he holds dangerous: he accounts opportunity the sweetest companion to fancy: desiring nothing more than that she would continue what she he's professed, confirm what she he's vowed, & consummate what both divine decree and their own united hearts have sealed: closing his Letter with an amorous ●assion, after this manner:  

Enfranchised Philocles to restrained Doriclea.  
Dear, sign this with your hands, else in a word  
I sail, ay me, for Ireland with my Lord,  
Where sails are righes, Seas, tears, while th' friendly wind  
Shall bring you word, I left mine heart behind.  
But if you shall me for your Consort take,  
I●le march through ranks of Furies for your sake.  
Return me answer then as may become you,  
" Pistols nor Poniards shall not keep me from you.  
This was a strong Resolution, which 〈◊〉 winds up with as loving a Subscription.  
This Term from travel am I stayed,  
To make my Consort of a Maid;  
Confirm then, Deare-one, heavens decree,  
And make exchange of hearts with me:  
Which done, this Posy shall he thine,  
Which is and must be ever mine:  
" To live, and have no heart were strange,  
" Yet have I none but by exchange.   
Thus writ passionate Philocles, which came shortly after to the hand of his Mistress, who how joyfully she received the report of his liberty; but how passionately those imaginary grounds of his jealousy, shall appear in the progress of our Story.   

CHAP. XIX.  
Doriclea by the advice and assistance of Mellida gets from her Keepers: and in her flight by night loseth her way: but coming by chance to the Hermit's house, where she took that night her repose: as, she had formerly been directed by him, she received much comfort from him: being conducted to the place which Philocles advised her to.  
WHen Doriclea had perused this Letter directed to her by her dearest Philocles, it is not easy to express what infinite joy she conceived in the delightful perusal of those lines which signified unto her the happy occasion of his liberty: yet could she not choose but bite the lip when she read those dreaming fancies of his, shadowing forth his jealousy. The comfort the conceived in the former, was made bitter by relation of the latter: which enforced from her this just ground of complaint, which she breathed forth in this manner.  
How is it Philocles, that the Heavens should thus look on thee, in freeing thee from restraint, and thou unthankful for so great a benefit, thus to abuse the privilege of thy liberty? During thy restraint, for aught that ever I heard, thou harboured not the least conceit of jealousy: and now when thou enjoyest the freedom of air, and stands dis●ingaged from a captives care; like an habituate prisoner, whose long restraint seldom makes him better, thou picks a quarrel before offence be offered, and hatchest suspicion where none can be justly grounded. For tell me; pray thee, tell me, dear Philocles; wherein have I ever given thee occasion to tax me of inconstancy; or in my bosom desired to lodge any one beside thee? Have I not neglected all my fortunes, nay, my zeal to those whom I prefer before all fortunes, to bestow myself upon a Scholars fortunes? If either rich youth or age could have wrought on Doriclea's fancy, she might long before this, have prevented all grounds of jealousy; and been a Mistress of an ample Family. And yet you are cunning Philocles; you will not plainly say you suspect me, for that were to tax you of too palpable jealousy: but you must shadow all under a dream: and make visions your arguments of fear where you imaginarily see Old-age courting me; a rich fortune besieging me; & my too easy Fort sore straitened by his golden battery. Well, Philocles, God forgive you; you have hither to had sufficient experience, how much my disposition hath scorned to be taken up by such prostitute affection. If Gold would have done it, your loyal Doriclea might before this have enjoyed it. No; no; these were no motives to me to enchain my fancy: or with a yielding hand, but a dissembling heart, to engage my person to such a subject of folly.  
O disburden yourself, Philocles, of these conceits: they so ill become you, as nothing makes Philocles so unlike himself: nor chills my affection more towards him, who is my second-selfe. I have not begged much at your hands, since the time we so firmly united our hearts: all I entreat of you is this, and it will redound to your own hearts-ease as well as mine: to discard these injurious conceits towards your own, by reflecting on her who can be no less than yours, if her own.  
And trust me, dear Sir, you may thank God, that you remain seized of such a heart, which is not apt to take offence where such good occasion is offered. Some cautious Girls, if they had but perceived the least inclination to jealousy in their amorous Suitors, which your own Character h'as sufficiently discovered in you, they would in time have prevented that mischief which might have incurred; and collected what domineering jealous Husbands they would have shown themselves being once married, having expressed themselves such suspicious Bachelors, when they were unbestowed. But love finds an easy shroud for the highest crimes: nor can Doriclea interpret Philocles Dream any otherwise then an unbounded affection breaking into extremes: which, when it cannot with sufficient freedom impart her strength by day, borrows of the night to discover in a dream. And who can blame such vigilant love; when the eyes though they sleep, the heart keeps true Sentinel, lest fancy should take her opportunity and make her escape? Free leave then do I give thee, Philocles, to dream still of me; but so, that thy dreams do not suspect me. For so might thy deluded imagination, which is seldom attended on by reason, present to thee what is false for what is true: and make thee credulously believe, that inconstancy may accompany true love. Surcease then from these, as I shall sooner cease to live, then withdraw my love from Philocles.  
Thus discoursed constant Doriclea with her Philocles, in the absence of her Philocles. But lest she might forget herself by neglecting what her dearest choice expects: after such time as she had rewarded the Messenger, who brought her that Letter, and that to his apparent danger, had not the late conceit which Doriclea's Parents conceived of their Daughters declining her affection from Philocles secured him, and given him freer access unto her: She, I say, prepares to second her Philocles desire, by accommodating herself with all conveniencies, and addressing her course to that place, whereto Philocles in his Letter had given her directions to repair. Defist than she must for the present, from spinning Mellida's love-threed: that she might wove up her own the better: for though the furtherance of Mellida's suit was dear unto her: desiring much to have her seized of those ample fortunes of her undeserving Lover: yet her own case must be first preferred, being urged by such importunity, as she held it fitting then or never to discover those true effects of fancy.  
By the advice then and assistance of Mellida; whose wits were ever more pregnant in devising for her Mistress then herself, and to whose virtuous love she wished no less success then to herself; Doriclea gets from her Keepers, being then more secure of their charge then before, in regard her Parents became less jealous of her love to Philocles then before. Dark was the night, which promised her more security: but an inconvenience she finds in it: for in this her flight by night she loseth her way. Up and down she wand'reth, and wand'ring, wooeth the Stars, that they would afford a distressed Maid, some small beamelings of their light, to guide her to that place where chaste ●ove had treasured her richest prize. But many by-paths she took, ever travelling, but little nearer approaching the place, at which she aimed: which deeply perplexed her love-inflamed mind. Till at last, (so propitious were the Stars to their vertuously-grounded loves) coming by chance to the Hermit's house, she took that night there her repose.  
Next morning early, for little power had sleep upon her fancy; she acquainted this aged Father with the whole passage of her intendments: F●r●t, how she had received knowledge of Philocles liberty, with what desire she had to observe the time which he had limited, with the place which he had proposed for her to repair to: humbly craving of him, that as she had been formerly directed by him, he would be pleased to continue his care, by affording her his best advice in a case of such necessity, as the issue made her of all others either most fortunate, or most unhappy. And that he would not impute this her private departure from her Father's house, to any act of immodesty, but to the constancy of her affection, which had exposed her to all extremity.  
The good old man, who had ever tendered her welfare; could not forbear from shedding tears, in hearing her express those passionate overtures and passages of her love: with what desperate adventures she had encountered to partake, what her virtuous desires so unfeignedly sought. But affection must have a mor● sovereign balm applied to her, than any effeminate passion. Eyes compassionately weeping without a brain effectually working, can bestead poor Doriclea nothing. First then, he proposeth the way for her to obtain what she would: which he strengtheneth with such able directions, as being well observed, they promised nothing less than an happy arrival at the place whereto she aimed: with a prosperous conclusion to their long delayed desires, having there arrived. And to encourage her the more, he applied these receipts unto her which so infinitely cheered her, as her confidence readily winged her enlivened fancy with an undoubted assurance of success.  
Daughter, 
The Hermit's Speech to Doriclea.  it had been well you had made your Parents command the line to have directed your love. But since your affections are so firmly united, as not to be divided: I hold it an office of piety to effect, what virtuous loves so jointly affect. Thus long have I had experience of you, and I have neither seen nor heard any immodest expression fall from you: this confirms me, that you are no less than what you seem: not pretending to be what you are not, but in desiring to approve yourself what you seem. This those fair outsides fall short of, who affect nothing more than to appear most, what they inwardly profess least.  
For these who's 'ere they be▪ seem thus to me,  
They be and seem not, seem what least they be.  
For goodness-sake estrange your better-disposed thoughts from these painted Puppets: who may be aptly resembled to the Zibethum, which naturally yields a sweet perfume to others, but retains a stinking sent to itself. Let those precious odours of your virtues not only afford sweetness to others, in proposing an example worthy imitation: but to your own heart, which cannot fly from itself, but must one day return as it does now retain, of whatsoever it hath received, a true naked impression. You have now entered the Main: where you shall grapple with many contrary winds, and surging waves. Report, like an ill-winde, will be quickly raised: and this may happily disperse a light fa●●e upon all your actions. As first, this private retire from your Parents, and making your self carver of your own affections without. their consent, may beget you a strange opinion in the world. Men will judge all is ●ot well; more than pure love drove you to ●●ese courses. Waves likewise there will be to menace your ruin. Divided passions to perplex you, and enthral your late-enjoyed freedom to the worst of extremes. Yet, what of all these? The roughest winds of infamy to a pure and undefiled mind can do no injury. Nor all those natural inbred passions which breed distempered spirits most disquiets, can annoy the rest of that Soul which is fixed on the exercise of piety: and makes her triumph over her own affections, her highest victory. Observe this rule, Dear Daughter, and these intended Spousals of yours shall find an happy period: and after so many violent winds of infamous tongues: so many turbulent waves of swelling passions; you shall find that calmness, as neither that lowness of fortune which may hereafter encounter you, shall amate you: nor all those contemps which injurious disdain may throw upon you, an way disturb you. I have shown you the best road, which if you hold directly, you cannot but arrive safely.  
Doriclea having received much comfort f●om these instructions of the Hermit: and encouraged too with the promise of his conduct to the place which Philocles advised her to: after a small repast (being enough for a stomach inflamed with love, to digest) she addressed herself to the short remainder of her journey; which though short, had appeared long to her longing fancy, had not the difficulty of the way been sweetened with the Hermit's company: by whose happy convoy she soon arrived, where her desires were lodged, and where she found her Philocles safely reposed.   

CHAP. XX.  
The great content and joy which these two long-divided Lovers conceived in one of the others presence: The relation of their former griefs being an addition to their present joys.  
NO calm so cheerful as after a storm; no harbour so grateful as after a rough Sea. The least beameling breaking forth of a Cloud appears like a more full and glorious light. This experimentally felt these long-divided Lovers, who conceived such infinite joy and content in the sight of one the other: as their first encounter for want of expression closed itself in silence, wanting a tongue to discover what delight their intranced apprehensions took in one another's presence. Looks now were to supply more discursive Organs: gladly would their affectionate breasts unfold themselves, and relate those many occurrents which their true loves had passed and with comfort vanquished: but their desires must be first feasted with eyeing and intentive looking upon one another. This must be the pleasing prelude to a more delightful Scene: at last, affection labouring of too strong a passion, to be enjoined a perpetual silence, broke forth on Philocles behalf after this manner.  
Ah Doriclea! which taking accent so transported him, as not an other word for a long space came from him. Am I in a Dream or waking? Can I imagine any mortal capable of such joy? How plea●ing now is the memory of my restraint? My long division from thee, my dearest Doriclea, whom I preferred before the world? For to be ever happy so surfeits the conceit, as it dreams of no other state: a small storm to him who hath ever enjoyed a calm, seems like a tempest. Whereas my present condition makes me more sensible of my former affliction. I was deprived of thee whom I incomparably loved. From all civil curtsies, save such as I received from strangers, excluded. All hopes of future advancement, by thy Parent's distaste, estranged. A Grate became my best prospect: the World my story: where I saw no action of sorrow presented more to life, than my own misery. O how the relation of our former griefs become an addition to our present joys! Before I had none to converse with, but such pitiless Guardians, as rejoiced in my restraint. Tedious were the hours of my life, because divided from the object of my love. Terrors I encountered with daily: passions I wrestled with hourly. No receipt found I to allay my grief: none to impart my woes to, but such whose hearts were iron-tempered like my Grate. O what an exchange have I found, in being freed from what did so enthral me: and in being restored to her presence, which of all earthly joys doth only revive me! O my Doriclea, how many fearful visions have startled me! how many distempered Dreams have disquieted me! And whence proceeded all these but from that love and fear equally working, and no less sundry effects producing, which had taken such strong possession of me, as not to be removed without enjoyment of thee? At which, Doriclea interrupting him, after a more cheerful recollection of her overjoyed spirits, said unto him.  
O my dear Philocles, I am an eyewitness of your distempered dreams! You know well what the Contents of your last Letter discovered: trust me, I will not chide you, for I can find no such language in my tongue: but I would not for a world have you think waking, what you suspect dreaming.  
Philocles calling to min death purport of that paper of Verses he had writ unto her: and how much his too affectionate fear had made him transgress: desiring her pardon, by imputing that error to report; acknowledged his fault, and condemned that too liberal relation of erring fame. What relation might that be, my endeared Philocles, answered Doriclea? H'as fame reported to you, that since your heavy restraint, I have been too liberal of mine honour, or admitted too much freedom to an intrusive Suitor? Have I slighted you in any discourse, or preferred any other in your place? So indeed, report went, replied Philocles; that your sometimes rejected suitor, rich Mardanes, had obtained your affection: and that your marriage was to be shortly solemnised. What, Mardanes, answered Doriclea? Nay, then me thinks you should have holden yourself safe enough: for of all men, to engage my fancy to an Earthworm, whose ambition consists in having, but never in enjoying: and who prefers this poor rubbish of Earth before the treasure of a divine mind, my firm resolution hath been ever so far divided, as I should loathe myself to be so matched. Panarchus sometimes propounded a Riddle, and it was this: How a man and no man, can with a stone and no stone, kill a bird and no bird, sitting upon a tree and no tree? And Athenaeus makes the answer; ●●at an ●●uch is the man, and a 〈…〉 is the bird, Fennell is the tree. Surely, I had rather contract myself with the first, and with modesty I speak it, content myself with the second, and make Apoll●'s bird of the third, then tie my 〈◊〉 to such a barr●● tr●●. And howsoever th● wise Si●onides truly concluded, being one day asked, whether virtue or riches were o● more reputation; that the virtuous did more frequent the doors of the rich, 〈◊〉 the rich of the virtuous: meaning, that virtues constant attendant was poverty, many times enforced to beg relief at the g●te of a vicious but rich family. For thy 〈◊〉 Philocles, did I choose thee▪ other poor respects were so far from working on my fancy: as they never received entertainment in my thoughts. I have ever accounted poverty a sweet companion, where con●ent was the Guardian; piety her Darling. Vice 〈◊〉 she never so richly ●ndowed, dies poor: whereas virtue be she never so much impoverished, appears rich. O how much than did my dear Philocles fall short in the merit of his opinion, in imagining his betrothed Doriclea could wean her affection where she loved so much, to plant it on one whom she valued so little? But Doriclea h'as an excuse in store for ' her beloved Philocles: I know, Dear one, it was thy unfeigned love which begot this fear. Had not thy thoughts been fixed on me waking, I had been least in thy thoughts when thou wer● sleeping.  
Thus did these two loving Turtles rejoice in their meeting: wherein the Hermit took no less content: observing how their loves were grounded on virtuous ends, which could produce nothing less than prosperous effects. With many pleas●nt stories did h● delight the ears of these two affectionate Lovers: describing the happy success of such, who preferred virtue before wealth: and how love could not want where there was no want of love.  
Yes, 
The Hermit's discourse of the purity of Love.  reverend Fa●●er, said Doriclea; there may be a want in the eye of a worldling. Yea, Daughter, replied he, but that worlding cannot be properly said to love. Amphiaraus loved Eriphile, Eriphile Amphiaraus; but what moved Amphiaraus to love Eriphile but luc●●; what induced Eriphile to love Amphiaraus but hope of honour? Now, how could these continue long, being so irregularly planted; where either the ambitious style of a Lady, or desire of money gave first conceptions to their fanoie?  
Who makes the object of his fancy Gold,  
Grows cold in fancy when his money's told.  
And she who feigns to love, to live a Lady,  
Is honour's 〈◊〉, I know not what she may be.  
Nor is the purity of love to be stained with any earthly thought: many pretend love, but they clothe it with an undeserving name: 〈◊〉 declines from that purity, wherewith it 〈◊〉 endowed, by exposing itself to an immodest liberty, from which it should be ●tranged. Love should have stayed eyes, to aff●●t nothing less than wandering. A discreet ●are, to h●are nothing that may to lightness be inclining. Achas●● touch, to embrace noting that may be wantonly moving. A modest speech, to deliver nothing that may be any way corrupting. And in every part to well composed, so gracefully disposed, as ●n in●●●d 〈◊〉 love to piety may be clearly 〈◊〉 This deserves well the title of love▪ whatsoever transgresseth these bounds, admits no such appellation, but rather to be displayed by that badge, which may best set her forth to her greatest dishonour and imputation. This 〈◊〉 rightly weighed, who labouring to deblazon love and lust in their proper and distinct liveries, descanteth th●s upon them, entitling his Poem, Loves Description.  
Love, what's thy name? a frenzy▪ whence thy birth?  
From Heaven; how comes it then ●ho● lives on Earth?  
I live not there; yet e'ch usurps thy name:  
'Tis true inde●●, but hence redounds their shame!  
I live not there, ●y Natures' pure and j●st,  
But lust lives there, and love's a foe to lust.  
It was great pity, said Philocles, that you, Father, who can discourse so contemplatively of so divine a subject, would never yet actively practi●e it. So Scholastically to reason of love, and be never a Scholar in the School of Love, begets in me admiration.  
O I confess, and with trickling tears, said the Hermit, that my youthful follies exceeded all number, so long as I sojourned in the world, and became there a wanderer. I could not walk in any street, but I encountered many mistresses: for pride, tricked and trimmed up in a gorgeous habit, infinitely took me. Licentious liberty peeped in at my window when I was at st●dy, and she surprised m●. Luscious fare prepared me delicious viands, and these estranged me from sobriety. Sloth whispered to me in my bed, the sluggard● Lullabe, with yet a little, and yet a little, and this belulled me. Wrath sparkled in my vein●●, and spurred me on to revenge, and made me apt enough to forget aught that did most concern me; but to imprint in my memory, the thought of an injury. Envy revenged herself justly on me, and made me pine away at the very sight of an others prosperity. And Covetousness, that age-benummed sin, made me desire most when I needed least, and so besotted me. Nor could I shake off these, till I shaked off myself by leaving the world, which harboured these. But within one half Apprenticeship, I blushed at those vanities I formerly affected: and by a private retire from the world, found what the world was while I was in it. Many were the conflicts I must freely confess, which I suffered, before I could wholly leave it. Yea, delights above conceit, presented themselves to my fancy, soliciting me to love it. And with these I long contested, and at last conquered, but with such difficulty, as I many times failed, and had been quite 〈◊〉, had not a more assisting hand guided me in the ●ignt; and crowned me in the Conquest. Since which time, I have ever in a contented privacy remained: known too much to the world to affect it: nor so little to myself, but that my in firmities humble me in it. Many, too many, heaven knows there be, who profess this regular course which I have entertained: but their profession is but how to delude the world: by bleering the eyes of men with a pretended sanctity: and under this veil cunningly shroud their base hypocrisy. And One of these have mine aged eyes seen in these later times. 
☞  A professed Gallant in his prime: and one who delighted in nothing more than a fantastic dress: sufficiently conceited of his own parts: yet strip him naked, he was neither good Moral, sound Christian, nor Philsopher. Yet did this dainty youth, when fortune begun to frown on him, and vanity, for want of maintenance, to leave him: pronounce his divorce from the world. In a Rock he imm●res himself: Herbs and Roots must be his Viands: cold Spring water his Wines: the Woods his Walks: Beasts his Consorts, and Birds his Choristers. None must serve him, but an old decrepit Woman, whom Nature had so disabled, as sh● could 〈…〉  
Thus discoursed the Hermit, no● were his two hearers less delighted with this relation of his Eremitical condition: but the night ●unning now far on, after a little repast they betook themselves to their repose; resolving next morning to conclude of some course, to consummate their love, the very conceit where of made the lingering night seem long.  
Thus had Love's Cement closed their fancies so,  
As two hearts lodged in one, and one in two:  
And like two lines that in one Centre meet,  
Though different in motion, took one s●at   

CHAP. XXI.  
They take the advice of Solinus that faithful Hermit, what course were best to take in a case of such extremity: he adviseth them privately to solemnize that Rite, which their long affection had confirmed in heart.  
SCarcely had Phoebus mounted his Eastern Chariot, or displayed his golden locks to the blushing Morn: till these restless Lovers desiring nothing more than lawfully to en●oy the fruits of their long-continued loves: repaired to Solinus that faithful Hermit and their constant Assistant, to receive his advice what course were best to take and securest to pursue in a case of such extremity; the prevention whereof might frustrate their hopes, ●nd with a sullen Cloud darken their fancy. The Hermit they found walking in a private Garden: fixing his thoughts on higher contemplations then worldly love. Who, upon their coming to him, and hearing them so desirous of his advice, imparted his mind to them, in cropping a sprig of Time. This, I do▪ now, said he, may serve you for an useful Emblem. Time must be taken while Time is. This herb smells now sweet and redolent: But should it wither, and lose her strength and vigour, it would soon lose her beauty too, which consists in savour. There hath been ever more advantage in dispatch then delay. Since than your hearts are so nearly linked, as nothing can divide them: To prevent loose love, which goodness hates: and embrace chaste love, on which virtue smiles. As likewise, to secure your affections from surprise: which, no doubt, Doriclea, your Parents will by all means labour to assay: my advice is, that with all privacy, whereto this very place gives opportunity, you solemnize that sacred Rite, to do fancy right, which your long affection, to which my daily Orisons shall wish all success, hath already confirmed in heart. For let me speak freely to you both: fancy becomes a frenzy, when it is not restrained by grace. And love too long delayed, may become polluted, and so lose that unstained purity, which it formerly retained. Private familiarity accompanied by opportunity become dangerous Inlets to youthful fancy, 〈◊〉, I have known in my time, many a loyal Lover deprived of their hopes, by 〈…〉 Web, and protracting 〈◊〉 too long. Had too provident Virginius accepted of Ioili●●, hi● Virginia had never incurred that unjust sentence of Appius Clau●●. It may be after a little time, when your Parents, Doriol●a, shall see no means to remedy it, they will admit of it. Mean time, you 〈◊〉 prepare yourselves to suffer whatsoever the weight of a Father's displeasure can lay on you. Small hope is there to reconcile you; till time, the best canceller of injuries, atone you. Nor should I have inclined to engage myself in any such advice, as in this private manner to solemnize your Nuptial Rites without their consent, but that an inconvenience is to be preferred before a mischief. Having in this sort delivered his opinion, and by his advice made way for the happy enjoyment of their affection: he made show as if he would return back to his Cell; saying: Now, dear Daughter, you need no more the conduct or counsel of your poor Hermit: Nor you, my Son, the unnecessary presence of an Old Man, who can afford you no help, should you be pursued by hate, nor supply your want, should you need relief. Privately then, with your leaves, will I retire to my Cell: where, though I be divided from you, my poor devotions shall remember you. But neither of these true Lover's cou●● endure to hear of his departure from the● desiring him, that they might partake his fatherly blessing, and enjoy his presence in 〈◊〉 solemnisation of those Rites which they intended the next day to consummate, according to his advice. For alas, said Philocle, your grave and discreet counsel may be stod us highly both before and after. For us tws, we know only how to love: but how to provide for our safety in a case of necessity, o● wits would be to seek: and our brains too shallow, to contrive. I cannot be ignorant, how many pursuing eyes, and revenging desires I have hunting after me. For D●ricle●s Parents cannot be more incensed against 〈◊〉 then those Wardens from whom I escaped, ar● enraged towards me. No Watch nor Wa●● must be unlaid to seize on me: no device▪ un●●sai'd to surprise me. And whom have I to 〈◊〉 to, but to the arms of Love; a weak, though willing defence to preserve my life? And wh●● more, said Solinus, can an aged Hermit do for you; whose staff is his only strength, and whose prayers the richest presents he can offer for your redress? And what better Armour, answered Doriclea, in the time of danger? Besides, your advice may usefully import us in directing how and in what manner we may bestow us, to prevent peril, which as my dearest Philocleses truly affirms, is every where enclosing us. I know my Father's passion to be hot, but his nature to be good. Our retire for a time▪ may not only for the present secure us: but by the power of interceding friends reconcile us. Which, for the instant were impossible to effect: or by the most persuasive ways, to allay their discontent: seeing my Parents hasty nature, will for the present, admit no Moderator. The good old Man was persuaded by these reasons, to stay one night longer with them: which he, indeed, the rather desired to do: wishing some fair conclusion to their resistless affection: and to become a witness himself of the consummation of that Rite, which these two Lovers had in such strong pursuit, accompanied ●ith an eager, but a chaste delight. Nay; this discreet Hermit employed his conceit a little further: contriving a course how and where to place them for the present: till the storm were overblown, and a calmer season might promise some respite to their fears. For that private grange, wherein they then sojourned, could neither be so secure, as to privilege them from search: nor so remote from jealous eyes, as to ke●p them any long time unknown. And a near Ally unto Androgeus dwelled not far off, who, upon the least notice of Doricleas' retire to that place, would soon acquaint her Father, and prevent their enjoyment by a speedy surprise.  
So serious was the poor Hermit's care, as these two Lovers could not be more faithful in their fancy, th●n he was careful for their safety. Nor was it 〈◊〉, that his 〈◊〉 should have been either lesser, or his advice weaker, amidst such perillo●● 〈…〉 you shall understand hereafter.   

CHAP. XXII.  
How these constant Lovers were hindered upon the very point of solemnisation of their marriage, by the intelligence and pursuit of her incensed Father Androgeus: who with a strong prepared Troop ent'red the House where these two unfortunate Lovers sojourned: And how, by the Hermit's device, Philocles to prevent his fury, was privately conveyed.  
NO nights longer than those of Lovers: and of those, none grievouser than that preceding night to their Nuptials. Right plea●ing was the Hermit's advice unto them: which, next morning, long before any Canonical hour, they addressed themselves to put in practice. Those hearts, which had been so long 〈◊〉, expected now, nothing more▪ then to see those Rites accomplished; and which they 〈◊〉, Heavens would propitiously look upon, though her Parents dissented. Hourly they expected the man that should perform it: who, at last there arrived, to solemnize what they expected. Nothing was wanting that so private a place could afford them. The Hermit must personate her Father, to bestow her on Philocles, her dearest Lover. No Clarks they needed, their own naked breasts would confirm, whatsoever the Priest should pronounce. But hear, O hear, ye dis-passionate Lovers, and hearing, resolve your eyes into tears! Then, even then when the● should hand in hand go up to that sacred place, which admitted no ●eet but thos● of peace; they might hear resounding in their ears, nothing but alarms an noise of war. This pitifully affrighted that small assembly: howbeit, so strongly steeled with resolution was Philocles fancy, as with much confidence he willed the Minister to go on; and if any were to incur censure, he would be the man, who would interpose himself betwixt death and danger. But by this time had a strong Guard enter●d the House, the noise of whose ●ury so increased the poor man's Pal●●y, as he could go on no further for a world. Thus were these constant Lovers hindered, upon the very point when their Marriage-Rites should be solemnised: which came to pass by the intelligence and pursuit of her incensed Father Androgeus: who with a strong prepared Troop, well-armed against any one that should make resistance, in a furious invasive manner ent'red the House (Hymen's dishonoued house) where those two unfortunate Lovers resided. An unhappy so journal; where such Comical hopes become wholly Tragical! And mount will Androgeus with all his company, there is no remedy Which Philocles perceiving, as one resolved rather to embrace death, then engage his fame to an ignoble life; or to accompany that miserable life with discontent▪ on he intends to go against all assailants, & in the presence of his Doriclea against the daringest Combatant bid defiance. He esteems him unworthy the purchase of such a prize, who will suffer his thoughts to be seized on by any Panic fear. Death, he knows, to be the companion of mortality, and to be afraid of that which he must necessarily endure, he holds worthy of no better name than a cowardly care. He observes, how fortune he's been ever his professed foe; valour then must be his friend. And armed with this spirit, down he resolves to go, but is stayed by Doriclea; who was now become all Niobe; Limbecks were her eyes of tears; a Furnace was her breast of scalding sighs; a constant Fever surprised her joints; yet with these did her sweet condition enforce a smile and with this, mixed with a pearled ●eare did she beg this Boon of her dear Philocles.  
Do not, oh do not, dearest Love, cast yourself away; by exposing your life to such apparent, nay, inevitable danger. One i● enough to perish; and let me be that one to secure my Philoaltes If not, let me become an Advocate for my Philocles. A Father's hand will spare his Daughter: and, perchance, for her sake pardon her Lover. Trust me, Phi●ocles, you shall not budge a foot; your wrestling is in vain with Doriclea; perish with me you may, without me you cannot. The whole World would exclaim against me, and tax me of a key-cold fancy, should I suffer you even before mine eyes to oppose yourself against my Father's fury. Be advised then, my dearest Philocles, you shall not go; trust me, you shall not go. Death and danger with naked breast will I sooner encounter, then engage your safety to the remorseless hand of my Father. Retire then, and let me be your Advocate, wherein should I fail, my extremest fate can be no worse than I expect it.  
With which words leaping forth of his arms, with a virile spirit, she went down stairs: where she met her furious Father coming up. Who, upon the very sight of her, was so incensed, as scarce any persuasion could 〈◊〉 so 〈◊〉 him, as to hold his 〈◊〉 hand form inflicting too severe 〈◊〉 punishment on his Daughter. Who, appearing as one nothing at 〈…〉 and 〈◊〉 above all others to have her 〈◊〉 Philocles secured which she conceived by protracting time in this 〈◊〉 expostulation with her Father, to be best effected: in a composed modest manner after such time, as with 〈◊〉 humble knee she had begged pardon to beget more compassion an equal hearer, she in this sort, addressed herself to her enraged Father.  
Dear Sir, 
〈◊〉 Speech to her Father.  look on me, or I am lost for ever. It is true, I have justly incurred your displeasure: and I am sorry for it, and with the sacrifice of my dearest life, would I seek to redeem it. I have transgressed those religious bounds of ohildelike obedience, and not only engaged myself but One, whose welfare I prefer before myself, to infinite dangers. Yet cast me not off for this. If you would have me live, let me enjoy him whom I love. Let me but partake in your blessing, I shall expect no other portion: the free fruition of my fancy, shall be unto me an ample fortune. Alas! what comfort would a Father reap in the matching of his Daughter: when an enforced uniting of hands should beget a dividing of hearts: and make her such a miserable Bride, as she shall wish her Bed changed into a Grave? That Bridal feast, her Funeral, to invite a mournful guest? And this were Doricleas' case, to impaune her virgin-state to such a curse. O then, by these unfeigned tears, this humble-bended knee, your poor distressed Daughters prayers, look on me; and make me his, who does so entirely love me! And less, dear Sir, you cannot make me; since my faith h'as confirmed me his, which cannot be dispensed by me. For such Sacred Vows are too strong ties to be loosed: 
Our p●re Vows of love, are Signed above  being recorded in Heaven, where such contracts can never be canceled. Enjoin me what you please, so you enjoin me not to leave Philocles: for sooner may Doricles leave from being herself, then leave his love whom choice without changeh'as confirmed my second self. If the true obedience of your lowly Daughter may expiate this offence (and alas this offence is only love) that Task shall not be by a Father imposed, which shall not be by a Daughter freely embraced.  
This Speech wrought more remorse in her auditory, then in her Father; as may appear by his discontented answer.  
Doriclea, but my Doriclea, I shall never account thee; 
〈◊〉 Answer to his 〈◊〉  tell me, canst thou look on thy Father, thy dishonoured Father, and not blush at so egregious an error? Shall my Family receive an ignorminious brand from my Country, through thy loose and irregular liberty? Is there no remedy, but my gray-hairs must be brought with sorrow to their grave? Have I bred thee, Viperlike, to destroy me? Go on, and see the issue of it. Prefer the love of Philocles, before the blessing of Androgeus. Disclaim that obedience thou dost owe me; bestow thyself on him, who of all others is most contemned by me. Thou canst not contract this unhappily spun thread of life, before the Destinies will. Mean time, expect revenge; for believe the indignation of a Father, who intends to take a full revenge of this licentions affection of that inconsiderate Philocles: and make him glad to relinquish his suit, by entertaining the meanest state, to secure his life. ●eserve then those knees, for whom thou reservest thyself; those easie-enforced tears, for him who thou preferrest beforethy self; those undevout prayers, to continue his love, whom thou meanest to make thy second-selfe. But this fruitless expostulation foreslows my revenge; I will see if I may find the trace of this bold Libertine; whose pleasing oratory h'as so deluded thee: whom having found, I shall shortly divert the current of your fancy, and by a legal course deprive him of future liberty.  
And presently upon these words, neither Doricleas ●●●yers nor tears, nor the persuasion of his entirest friends could so far prevail with him, as to keep him from ascending the stairs. But ●uch good opportunity had these passionate debates below given to that discreet Hermit above, as by his device, Philocles, to prevent his funy, was privately conveyed: so as, what Androgeus expected; co●ld not be pursued. None finds he above but the old Hermit, and that intended agent for solemnising their Nuptials, who was as full offear as Andro●eus was of fury: but wisely pretending himself to be one of the Family, he passed by him without much inquiry.  
So unexpectedly was this pleasing Morn darkened with a sullen Cloud. Two friends, than which none more dearer, must be divided; all occasion of recourse one to another▪ henceforth debarred; this faithful Hermit, who addressed his discreet care for their cure, to his Cell confined. Thus must me leave all things disjointed and out of orders a discontented Father contesting with his Daughter; a dis-passionate Daughter labouring to appease her Father: all which have power enough● to perplex a Family, and beget rumour in a Country, as you may hear hereafter.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
Androgeus brings back his Daughter; the entertainment given her by her Mother.  
Unwilling was Doricleas' mind, but unwinged must not be her speed to depart. Leave her Philocles she must without taking leave. For having laboured (as was formerly expressed) to appease her incensed Father, but all in vain; she, before she could come into the room, (that sorrowful room) wherein she had left her Philocles, by the device of that discreet Hermit, to prevent Androgeus' fury, which admitted no treaty, was he conveyed, and with that privacy, as he became privileged from discovery. Along now must Doriclea go with her Father: who, desiring nothing so much as to surprise her conveyed Lover, but prevented of what he most expected, he holds himself for the present sufficiently content with the rescue of his Daughter. Whom he hoped to reclaim from this madding affection (for so he conceited) by one means or other. A day's journey, at the most, they had scarcely traveled, till Androgeus with his Company arrived where he desired: and bringing his perplexed Daughter in his hand to her Mother, to this effect he recommended that charge unto her.  
Euryclea, I have brought back at last your dainty Daughter; and prevented what her wild fancy was incurring: she desired much to be our late Pedant Philocles his Bride: all things were prepared to accomplish what they intended; and had not timely intelligence frustrated this design, she had to both our discomforts been unworthily married. It was my aim to have intercepted Philocles; who, since his escape from prison, hath been more forward in the pursuit of his desires then before: but how, or by what way conveyed I know not, him I could not find, so ready was some f●●end of his to expedite his escape. Now must I recommend this charge to you, Euriclea, as you tender our honour, and the reputation of your Daughter, to retain a more circumspect eye of her Walks than you have hitherto done. Let such attend her, as will not be deluded by her. Mellida h'as been too much her friend: whose indiscreet counsel, had it succeeded, had made her self her only foe. Abridge not her liberty, so you be confident of her company. Too much privacy may hurt her health: as too much liberty revive her love. Time may wear out these prints of youthful fancy. Employment or delightful company, being such as may suit with virgin modesty, may find power to discampe these dangerous Assailants, which so mainly work upon the inward quiet of hte mind. I make little doubt, Euryclea, but your kind heart will be too tender, to inflict on● her any heavy censure. Be it as you please, seeing to your charge, care, and cure, ●●●cely recommend her.  
So tenderhearted was Euryclea, that at the very first sight of her Daughter she could not refrain from tears: oft did she feign anger, and with a furrowed brow foreshow a tempest: but her tears were in earnest her anger in jest. Yet desirous to school her, and in such manner as her discretion conceived, would leave the deepest impression in her she receives no other entertainment but this from her Mother.  
Disobedient Girl, what fair fruits have our deceiving hopes produced? How often have I coloured thy private escapes, and enjoined this whole Family not to publish thy folly? What pleasing promises have I received from thee, that all should be amended, Philocles undeserving love rejected, and those Suitors entertained, whose fortunes might raise thy preferment? And what re●quit all hast thou given thy Mother, for her care, too ●●nder care, on thee conferred by her? Now it is in vain to stay the tongue of Rumour: the whole Country resounds with the report of Doricle● and he wand'ring Lover. And how gladly would I be to still this report▪ to recover thy repute! Well, there appears yet a little hope, which relies on this one and o●ly help. As good fortune was, all this time Mard●nes h'as been abroad, and so far remote from us, by reason of his occasions elsewhere calling him, as this report of your straying course may happily yet be concealed from him. Let then that love which you so lately pretended, be continued. Once again, let a Mother's tears or threats prevail so far with you, as to estrange your thoughts from him▪ whom you must not affect. Be persuaded, Girl; let not poverty come in at one door, while love goes out at th' other. Let not your fame receive a blemish from your indiscreet choice: with our blessing you cannot enjoy him. timely then relinquish him: I will not have too strict an hand over you; so tenderly presuming am I of you. An hard, and harsh task were it for me to enjoin you aught that might deservingly beget your discontent. Tender then a Mother's care, and prevent her fear: her care to procure your good; her fear lest you should prevent her 〈…〉 only redeem the time you have lost; but regain our esteem, with the ample interest of our love: which you have so strangely forfeited, as it resteth in your obedience only to repair it.   

CHAP. XXIIII.  
Doriclea labours to free her Mother from all jealousy touching her love to Philocles: pretending, that he had voluntarily made himself a banished man to his Country, through fear of the●● fury and enmity.  
NO sooner had Euryclea thus expostulated the cause with her Daughter, than Doriclea, desirous out of a pious duty, to satisfy her Mother; whose passion, tempered by a natural affection, seemed something allayed; labours to free her Mother from all jealousy, whereof she had received too inducing motives, touching her love to Philocles: and that her defence might appear grounded upon sufficient reasons, she proceeds in this manner.  
Dear mother, 
〈◊〉 speech to her ●other.  I must confess, (and with tears of pious sorrow I lament it) that my indiscreet affection h'as exceeded those bounds which maiden modesty should have ●ept: by giving too free scope to my own fancy: but let not these be any motives to decline your good opinion from me. There is no offence so great, which repentance may not extenuate. And now to remove all occasion of jealousy, believe it Mother, that never any arguments of love shall be continued betwixt us hereafter. For the fear of your fury, haas diverted our fancy, and made discontented Philocles a banished man, and that by voluntary censure, to his native Country. It is true; our amity begot your enmity; our love your hate. But now, believe the true relation of a Daughter; that air which he here breathed, grew distasteful to him, through the distaste you conceived against him. A voluntary exule is he become, and h'as constantly vowed to entertain that condition, which shall free his youthful mind from light affection. Indeed, had not m● Fathers seasonable coming prevented what our resolves had mutually intended; Neither might he without my consent have enjoyed that liberty: nor myself been so freely at your dispose as now I am. But since the Fates would have it so, I shall not only study to obey your commands, in whatsoever you may be pleased to impose: but infinitely rejoice in performing whatsoever your parental awe shall enjoin.  
Philocles appeared no such 〈◊〉 to my fancy, that might any way make me to foreslow the discharge of my duty. Yet must I needs confess, dear Mother, such was his virtuous love as I could not less express myself then tender him a grateful requital for such ample testimonies of his constant affection. Then with your favour be it, that I retain so thankful a memory of his professed fancy, as for the present to affiance myself to none: love, though 〈◊〉 be countermanded, it cannot for the present be extinguished. Mean time, as your tender care h'as been and continues ever for my future advancement: and that Ma●●●nes must be the man, whom you hold ●●tingst for my choice: so far shall my Countenance appear free from strangeness; my entertainment of him from niceness, as he shall find no cause of disrespect from me, nor aught that may dishearten his hopes in pursuit of me. Nay, so entire shall be my obedience, as were the disposition of Mardanes like that of Margites, of whom it is said, that he never ploughed, nor digged, planted, nor reaped, nor in private affairs advised, nor discreetly conversed, nor did any thing all his life long that might tend unto goodness, but wholly unprofitable to the world. I should with a free embrace receive him. because your commendations did present him, and your obedience enjoin me to love him.  
This ingenuous acknowledgement of her offence, and expression of her obedience, infinitely overjoyed her Mother; but above all others, the relation of the travel of her Lover: imagining, that all occasions now were removed: and no fear at all that their loves should be here after re●ued. But whatsoever Doriclea pretended, old love could not be so banished. Love she must, but seem to dis-affect her Philocles. Ha●e she must, but seem to affect M●rd●nes. And so far from coyness must she seem as she must have a smile in readiness whensoever he comes in presence. And the freedom which her Mother gave her, being now secure of Philocles, ministered occasion to Doriclea, to invent many acquaint devices to engage more strongly her distasted Lover Mardanes to her pretended affection. Whereof he persuaded himself to be so firmly possessed, as nothing had power to alien her love from him: so as, he began to be so far presuming thereof, as the very lest distaste which she might seem to offer him, received a very harsh construction from him.  
This might appear by one occasion which happened casually, and it was thus. Doriclea, to allay those pressing discontents which surprised her amorous thoughts; would make it her pleasing task now and then to play with fancy: and to discover sundry apparent arguments of her unfeigned goodwill towards Mardanes, the better to expedite those desires of love●●nwreathed Mellid●, and to ●●teine that constant zeal which she religiously professed to her Phil●cles: divers private meetings, accompanied with some of her more familiar Consorts, would she purposely appoint to pass an hour or two away (and tedious had the passage of those hours been▪ had not some merriment allayed it) with her late-created Servant; Marda●es. And one time above the rest, she had prefixed him time and place for giving him a more private meeting; but by what occasion I know not, or whether it was not purposely done to delude him, or to try his temper; but he either mistook the Sign where they should meet, or she appointed a place where there was no such Sign: but meet they did not; upon which disappointment being infinitely nettled, and presuming whatsoever he writ unto her, would be accepted, in this domineering way, he declared his spirit.  
Mardanes Letter to Doriclea.  
Mistress;  
HOw injuriously you have shown yourself to me in this your last days fail, my lines can hardly deliver; much less express that irreparable Discontent which I suffer. Boy's might be easily without offence deluded, as I was by your 
a To prepare a smother passage to her love-pretended 〈◊〉, She deluded 〈…〉 with a count●●seit S●gne  Sign, the like whereof was never yet there founded. But you reply; you were there, but I was gone. Trust me, Mistress, I stayed there till seven oath, Clo●k, which was a whole ●oure beyond the time limited: and finding no such Sign as you named; you may imagine, if I were sensible of so apparent wrong, it could not choose but work strongly on me. By this, I seriously vow, you have lost that Love, who would have sooner ceased to live, then fall short in aught that might have conduced to your love. This is the resolution of  
your dis-esteemed Friend.  
An other of the same stamp●, bearing the like style and state, was this; wherein, (though in a milder temper) he takes occasion to tax her of neglect, in this manner▪  
Dearest;  
EIther were your occasions so many as they did strangely perplex you, or else I was strangely slighted by you. Trust me, Dear One, your own business could not more trouble you, than your neglect of his service and true affection distasted him, who so firmly dedicates himself to you! Believe it, this was an unexcusable ●rrour, not to deign 〈◊〉 i● so much 〈◊〉, as to 〈…〉 him with your place of abo●●; the time of your stay in Town: nor where ●e might with conveniency wait on you, to accommodate your affairs with his bes● advice and assistance. You cannot possibly conceive less, then that this was a grea● trial of patience: To appear there disesteemed, where he stood most fixed. Admit he be aged; grave years beautified with grey hairs are more to be honoured then neglected: nor may your privacies be with less alacrity seconded, then if they were with more youthful blood inflamed.  
Let your more serious eye look upon these, and I appeal to the justice of yourself, without any other Refer, whether these have not sensibly and strongly wrought (to your own bosom, I say, I leave it) upon  
your truly approved and affectionate Servant.  
This was Mardanes Letter to Doriclea▪ which she might rather have taken for some Challenge, than any Love-present. But this wrought no great alteration upon Doriclea's thought. The los●e of his love with which he threatened her, could not much perplex her, seeing, his hat● closed best with her desires: for of all men, whatsoever she pretended, Mardanes she most hated: but in the pursuit of her aims, she surceased not to discover all expressions of fancy that might any way promise him success, that, what she intended for Mellida might be sooner brought to pass. Neither was his spleen so much incensed; n●r his spirit so enraged: but at their next meeting those furrows which before appeared on Mardanes brow for his disappointment, was quickly smoothed. One smile, & that Heaven ●●owes, enforced, had power enough to claim that storm, and beget in his amorous thoughts a longing desire to please. Many brave presents would he send her; sundry rich gifts would he bestow on her. All which she returned unto Mellida, for happy presages of what was to ensue. And in giving her these Tokens, she would usually say: How now Mellida! This is no lean love. Happy were my poor Mistress, if she might receive but the least of these remembrances from her Servant. But alas! Mine is too far divided from me: distance of place bars us all hope of recourse. Why Mistress? In what better case am I then yourself? I love one, and he loves me not: ●nd you love one, who hates you not. I may every day see mine, but I am never any whit the nearer enjoying him. You; though you may not see him; in your desires you enjoy him: and partake in more freedom of love with your Philocles, than ever I expect to do with my Mardanes. Never expect, Wench, replied Doriclea? Why, pray thee, what accomplished parts dost thou see in him, that thy love should not deserve him? Didst thou ever hear any one so highly taken with him, but thyself? That's no matter, said Mellida: but I am sure a nea●er personage is there not in mine eye, in all the World. And how far would poor Mellida go, to receive one pleasing smile from him? That were an excellent precious Pilgrimage, answered Doriclea. Surely, Wench, thou wouldst gladly play Pilgrim, to undertake a journey for such a Lozel. But thou dost weil to be constant, nor shall I ever persuade thee to change thy choice. Change my choice, said Mellida● No, may I sooner change to Earth. Alas! my desires are not great: nor my ambition high. Might I but be entertained to be his Handmaid; to attend him; though as his unworthy Consort I might never enjoy him: this would in some measure content me. yea, quoth Doriclea, but this perchance, would in time beget in thee discontent. Discontent, said Mellida, and be in the presence of my Mardanes; how could that be! By seeing other Creatures of the same Sex, answered Doriclea, received, while thou were't rejected. Indeed, said Mellida, I should hardly endure to see that: 
No earthly cross may half so bitter prove,  
As to admit Corrivals in our love.   
And yet, me thinks, I should never love him worse: seeing, I could conceive no other cause of their too much love, but his perfection▪ And were it reason that I should hate him, because others love him: or fall short in my esteem, because others did so highly prise him? And yet, I must confess, I could not well suffer another to become too familiar with him. Patience could bear no more than it could: and a breast I have ready to embr●ace any injury, rather than digest such apparent grounds of jealousy. Thus privately used these two to bestow some hours of the day in discourse: wherein Doriclea ever retained so admirable a temper: as no extremity of passion was ever seen outwardly to work upon her. Love she could, and constantly: forego the presence of her love she could, and modestly. Expectance in this only made her happy: this combat with contrary fortune would not hold out still; she at last hoped to obtain a victory: and therein more glorious, in that her bicker were more grievous. A suspicious sigh must not leap from her; nor an amorous ●eare betray her: her own heart must be the treasur● of her care, till patience crown her hopes wi●h a more sovereign cure.  
Neither was she more discreet in her love, than he persuasive in his line: for now you must suppose him estranged from his Country, divided from all thoughts of fancy, and if you will believe his own hand, such a strict Convert, as Doriclea may have small hope to make him 〈…〉.   

CHAP. XXV.  
Philocles writes a Letter to Androgeus, as directed from beyond the Seas: wherein he humbly craves pardon, for his too bold attempting his Daughter's affection. How his present austere penitential life shall witness to the World his repudiation of all light love. How his devotions now were reserved for Heaven, and had no communion with Earth. And that the choice he had now made, should during life admit no change.  
Philocles' must be now accounted a foreigner, to his Country a stranger; exposed to winds and waves, and divided from his friends. Nay, since his supposed arrival, he pretends his induction into so strict a profession, as it proclaims him to the World an Alien to all youthful affection. But what Harbour received him, or what place this was which harboured him, or what Profession it was that admitted him, appears not fully by any Relator: howbeit, what he was, and what he resolved to continue, may appear sufficiently by his own Letter.  
Philocles' Letter to Androgeus.  
FOr exiled Philocles to write a Letter to incensed Androgeus: and this to be directed from beyond the Seas, may seem strange; and yet know, noble Sir, that this is true. He, even he, who sometimes affected irregular love, h'as now betaken himself to a regular life: and in this his poor mendicant pro●ession, humbly craves pardon (and be it your generous pity to incline to his suit) for his too bold attempting your Daughter's affection. It was l●●e, and that seasoned with as much virtuous constancy, as youth could afford. But know now, dear Sir, that his present austere penitential life shall witness to yourself, whom he he's so highly offended, and to 〈◊〉 whole world, wherein he he's too long youthfully sojourned, his repudiation of all ligl▪ ● love. And too long, Heavens know too long, h'as he there lived where true discretion could find nothing worthy to be entirely loved. For what shall man find there but a Tragic Theatre hung about with Arras presenting a numerous confluence of fears and cares? All complete Actors, but their Play-bill bears no better style than A Comedy of Errors. To see a Man turn himself into all sha●es like a Chameleon, or as Proteus, transforming himself into every prodigious form: to act twenty parts at once for his advantage; to temporize and vary like Mercury the Planet, good with good, bad with the bad; to form himself to all religions, humours, inclinations; to fawn like a Spaniel, rage like a Lion, bark like a Cur, fight like a Dragon, sting like a Serpent; as meek as a Lamb, ●nd ●et again grim like a Tiger, weep like a Crocodile, insult over others, and yet others insult over him; here to command, there crouch, tyrannize in one plac● be baffled in another; a wise man at home, a fool abroad to make others merry. Then to reflect upon the indignity of the Age. To see a Scholar crouch and creep to an illiterate Peasant for a meal's meat. For there is nothing, from which Learning receives more dishonour, then to have her freedom engaged to another's Trencher. A Scrivener better paid for an Obligation, then for a studied Sermon; a Falconer receive better wages than a Student; a Lawyer get more in a day, than a Philosopher in a year; better rewarded for an hour, than a Scholar for a years study: He that can paint Thais, play on a Fiddle, curl hair, etc. sooner get preferment then a Philosopher or a Poet. And is not this a dainty Theatre to win the heart of a discreet Spectator; where Love and Hate are like the two ends of a Perspective-glasse: one multiplies, the other makes all things less? O how rightly did that modern Stoic inveigh against those inhuman qualities in Man: which, if he did but see into himself, he should find so unmanly, as they made him altogether unlike himself! 
c Ch●y●. in Hom. 6. in 2. ●p. ad Cor.  How shall I know thee to be a Man (said that Golden-mouthed Divine) whe● thou kickest like an Ass, neighest like an Horse after Women, ravest in lust like a Bull, ravenest like a Bear, stingest like a Scorpion, rakest like a Wolse, as subtle as a Fox, as impudent as a D●g; shall I say thou art a M●n, that h'as all the symptoms of a Beast? How shall I know thee to be a Man, by thy shape; that affrights me more, when I see a Beast in likeness of a Man? And what did poor Philocles encounter withal, so long as he conversed with the World, but Creatures of this condition? Well then might mine eye, my strangely deluded eye, be made the sense of sorrow, because the sense of sin. Nought could I see but did wound me: no pleasing Object but did pollute me. Only my thoughts, dear Sir, were so free from harbouring one light conceit of your virtuous Doriclea: as I saw in her that goodness as disheartened any loose attempt. And may your Age receive that comfort in her, as those easy errors which too deservingly bred your distaste, may be redeemed by a fuller furplusage of content. My desire shall be only this, that you would not decline your affection from her, for her sometimes bestowing so much undeserving respects on me. Divided am I now from her, and all the World: and who knows but that I was thus prevented in my love, to the end I might be weaned in my love from the World? Admit then my Plea; and let it receive place: seeing my devotions are now reserved for Heaven, and retain no communion with Earth. Love was never to converted Philocles so familiar, as it is now a stranger. It now re●ts, that my best prayers ever accompany you; and that my tears wash off those wrongs I have done you. Be it your piety to have mercy, and to look on Philocles resolve, who he's set up his rest upon this stake, that the choice he he's now made, shall during life admit no change.  
Philocles.  
This good Androgeus expounded, to be that new course of life or religion, or whatsoever else he had so lately professed: but constant Philocles had another meaning, which he ever expected time would bring to perfection. Howsoever, Androgeus was not a little cheered in the perusal of this Letter: the Contents whereof so well freed his suspicious thoughts from this mortified Lover, as he could not contain himself from expressing the joy he conceived, which to this effect he discovered.  
Well done, Philocles! In this course thou hast taken, thou procurest thyself peace; and us rest. Thou hast done rightly to disesteem fancy, and to prefer thy private Study before such a vanity. There is no comparison betwixt pure devotion and light affection. Content is of ampler extent than the whole Continent. And if my serious care prevented thy indiscreet love, be it thy love, in thy private devotions, to remember my care. Thou ●aist, thou hast now set up thy rest; and in this thou hast done right. Worldly love and Heavenly contemplation suit ill together. Thou couldst not here enjoy whom thou lovedst with our consent; thou didst well then to relinquish her love, the purchase whereof might beget thy ensuing discontent. How happy had many been, if they had been so prevented: for so had they never tasted those miseries which they so unfortunately incurred.  
As Androgeus was thus privately discoursing of Philocles late profession, which he conceived to be so sincere, as all occasion of further renuall of his Daughter's love and his was wholly removed: Euryclea came to him, to whom he read the Letter which he had received from Philocles. Wherein they equally joyed; while Euryclea related to her Husband the free entertainment which their Daughter, upon her direction, had given to Mardanes; and how she feared not, if they gave approvement to it, but that would be very shortly a Match. And though, said she▪ there be a disparity in their years; that will beget our Daughter more esteem. And a good life with an Husband exceeds all youthful ●ove. And yet I must tell you Husband, said E●ryclea, if his harsh disposition should either ●●get in him a jealousy, or any other unbeseeming quality, I should choose rather to go to her Burial then her Bridal. For, poor Girl, her good condition would brook so ill that surly humour, as it would discourage her for ever. And I have heard his disposition was none of the best: and what were it then to enjoy all his estate, and want the comfort of a contented life? Our care h'as neither been so weak, nor God's providence so small; as that the Portion we intent to confer on her, may not procure her such a Match, as may suit with her desires both for competency of estate and equality of years. And for my part Husband, said she, I never knew any Match made up for wealth only, that ever begot comfort to the party. And you yourself know Husband, that when at first I preferred you in my choice, the very lest thing that wrought upon my affection was your wealth: and yet have we had ever enough, & so much the more, in regard we thought love in those days to be enough. How is it, Euryclea, said Androgeus, that you ●lead so much in defence of poverty, and would not admit of Phil●cles. who was none of those who had superfluity? One must make a virtue of necessity, replied Euryclea. I know Philocles, to be poor enough, and to love Doriclea enough. But our Daughter was not to ground her love on every poor Lover, for that might have mad● her a poor Liver: but so to plant her fancy, as neither the undeservingnesse of the ma● might beget in her a neglect of duty, nor a coldness of affection by means of poverty. To divert then the current of her love, I made choice of one for her, who had sufficient whereon to live. That by comparing the want of a Scholar, with the wealth of a worldly improver, she might the sooner discern her error, and betwixt these two 〈◊〉 out one, whom she might both approve and love: and express himself worthy her choice, by his fair and affable temper. Yea, said Androgeus, but it was dangerous to give opportunity to fancy; which it seems you have done to Mardanes already. Alas, good Old Man, answered Euryclea, there is small doubt but his years have so tempered him, as in affairs of love, his moderate desires rather aims at a Consort then a Playfellow: one to cheer and comfort him, then with light dalliance to solace him. And could you then endure one in the prime of her youth, whose posterity should be the comfort of your age, to close in such unequal embraces: and by living where the does not love, make her grieve that ever she did live? No, Androge●s; no, replied Euryclea; my desires are that she may live, where just grounds of discontent may never give her occasion to grieve. And this, I think, she very hardly will find in Mardanes; for as 〈◊〉 richest treasure closed in a Chest, affords 〈◊〉 small comfort to the Owner; when to his ●wn he becomes a Prisoner: so all outward substance, be it heaped up in never so much abundance, can scarcely minister the least portion of content to a mind engaged to all hea●inesse. But our Girl shows no such thing; for if she dissemble not, (and I verily think her condition will not admit it) since my direction, she he's professed more love to Marda●●s, than any other that ever suited her excepting Philocles. Nay, she will not stick sometimes to say, that her unmannaged youth ●ands in need of such a Tutor: and that since Philocles absence and reliction, reverend age was the most taking Object to her affection. If it be so, said Androgeus, the Girl shall have her mind: but I am persuaded, when fresh youth comes in the presence of age, though she pretend reverence to age, she will ●incline rather to embrace youth.  
Thus discoursed her Parents of their Daughter's love, but were far from diving into her heart, to search out for whom she reserved her constant love. But love she must; for tender is their care to bestow her where both person and fortune may give her content.  
But all is not Gold that glisters; nor all winners that are Wooers. For though she have an enforced smile for Mardanes, she retains an heart full of care for the safety of her Philocles.   

CHAP. XXVI.  
Doriclea falls (or seemingly f●ls) into a Fever; each day seems to increase her distemper: Eschites, an experienced Physician is sent for to apply his best art in a case of such extremity: but he, an intimate friend to Philocles, makes show as if he despaired of her recovery. And that no Malady arising from fancy, could without enjoyment of the Object loved, receive remedy.  
WHo knows not how to dissemble, he knows not how to live. But if that Art 〈◊〉 receive approvement, Love and no other Object should be the instrument. This 〈…〉, who now 〈◊〉 (or seemingly falls) into a Fever. Long is it now since Philocles absence; but longer to her conceit then any other: having not as yet heard from him since his departure from her. From the benefit then of fresh air, which could not choose but infinitely cheer her, she retires: making herself a stranger to those Groves and Gardens wherein she walked; and betakes herself to her Bed, where she privately expostulates with fancy, recalling to mind wherein soever she had suffered. A violent Fever within some few days after strongly seized on her: which whether it was seeming, or so indeed, I will not here dispute, but each day to the great grief of her Parents, seemed to increase her distemper. Sleep was a stranger to her eyes; meat distasteful to her palate, and loathing to her stomach. A great desire she had to be private: pretending, that much talk distempered her brain: and willed her Maid to keep the Curtains ever closely drawn, saying, that nothing weakened her eyes more than light. Mellida, who knew best next to her own breast, what most disquieted her, when she was at any time sure that none could overhear them, whether it were to cheer her, or to impart her own griefs unto her, would use in this manner to converse with her.  
Good Mistress rouse up your spirits, do you think lying in Bed will serve the turn? But if you will not be so much a friend to yourself, I pray you befriend yourself for my sake. Alas, all this time while you lie sobbing and sighing here, my Suit to Mardanes grows cold. And I must tell you a secret too Mistress; but none must know of it, for if they should, it might be a great blemish to my credit. Truth is, as truth ever goes farthest, that since you fell into this distemper I became mine own Solicitor: but I made bold still with your name. And in very deed, (this you may think to be an immodest part, but I am sure it came from a loving heart) I sought in my Letter directed in your name, to know the time when he would make me his own.  
Fie, Girl, answered Doriclea, thou hast spoiled all: proffered love had never yet good savour. And in the mean time thou hast brought me upon the stage in a dainty fashion: by making Mardanes believe that I am liberal enough of my reputation. But, pray thee, Wench, what answer receivedst thou? Nay, Mistress, said Mellida, you shall know all; but I pray you impute it to my too much love, if my love h'as wronged your name. But the harshest answer did I receive from him, that ever poor Wench received from any one, loving so dearly as I did. And with that, opening her bosom, she pulled forth a Paper, which she reached to her Mistress, containing this Answer.  
DOriclea, after this manner to importune me suits not with Maiden-modesty; I shall close in an equall-line, sorting with our joint desires, when I shall see mine own time: and may meet best both with your occasion and mine own. Mean time, trust me, this importunity ●ather dulls than sharpens fancy. So re●●s he, who will ever retain a true estimate of your honour.  
Dericlea could not choose but smile, though her heart were ill at ease, to hear this insulting humour of deluded Mardanes: but at first ●he knew not well whether to be angry at her Maid's forwardness, or to pity her weakness: so as, raising herself a little in her ●ed she used these words unto her. Surely▪ Mellida, thou caused not possibly be so simple as thou makest thee. Thou hast now made a 〈◊〉 hand of it: to make thy own Sweetheart believe that without his love I cannot live. Thou hast brought mine honour unto the Stake: and I must in hope to get thee an Husband, be thought, nay be rumoured, that I beg one. Nay, it is very likely that he will now out of his Pesantly condition flight my affection, because too freely offered: or conceit strangely of my modesty, & with much easiness cashier me: and what then will become of thee? All ways than are stopped; all means prevented; when I myself, who sought by pretending love to him, to match thee to him, shall be so contemned by him, as he shall hold me unworthy of him.  
Alas, Mistress, answered Mellida, pardon my kind heart, that could hold no longer than it could. Had I loved less, my modesty had been more. But truly Mistress, I am so troubled with fantasies sleeping and waking, that if I have him not, I shall not be long mine own woman. Yet rather Mistress, than you receive any dishonour by my indiscreet love, I shall write in your name how my mind is altered, and that I never bore him so much love, as now I bear him hate; I care not▪ I will do it, rather than displease you; though it should break my heart.  
Doriclea pitied much ●he Girl's humour▪ willing her by no means to discover the lea● token or semblance towards Mardanes o● displeasure. And that so soon as she should be able to leave her Bed, she would spare n● labour nor profession of favour to purchase her desires. But she held it fit to use some small intermissions to make him sharper: for such Haggards, said she, are soon cloyed; they must then see their Game seldom, and by rare and easy flights become sharpened. Hawks full gorged will stoop to no Lure, nor seize on no Prey. No more will thy ancient Sweetheart, if he find thee too playable to his Call. Nothing cheered Mellida so much, as to hear her Mistress so well appeased: resolving to be only directed by her: what issue soever should befall of her love.  
But as they were thus diseoursing, the Parents of Doriclea came into the Chamber, bringing with them one Es●●●●es, an Artist of known experience, approved judgement, and in his Profession of such honest employment; as his chiefest 〈◊〉 was his Patient's cure: scorning nothing more than to spin out time, or to practise Plobotomy upon his Patient's 〈◊〉, or to magnify his Cures with Mountebank Bills▪ Such an one was this judicious Physician, whom they brought to their Daughter, as to his Profession he was an honour, and to his Country under God, a sovereign succour. Him therefore they besought to apply his best receipts, and to exercise the height of ●is Art in a case of such extremity: as they ●●ould be ready to gratify his care, her cure, with an ample expression of their love. But promises of rewards were the lowest of his motives: his greatest gain was in his account to do good. And because delay might prejudice his cure: drawing near to her Bedside, and taking her gently by the wrist of her 〈◊〉, felt her pulse; which, though for want of natural rest, discovered some distemper, yet ●ould not he gather either by Pulse, Urine, or any Symptom, that she could be seized on by any violent Fever. Imagining then (and his imagination hit right) that there was some other private distemper which wrought extremely on her; and purposing to search out the quality of her disease, if either Art or industry could effect it; he requests her Parent's absence with the rest that were in the room, pretending that he was to try an experiment, wherein the privacy of his Art would not so fitly comply with their presence.  
And now the Room being voided, Eschites taking hereby the hand, 
Eschites Speech to Doriclea.  said thus unto her. Mistress, if I have any judgement, as my long experience should teach me some, you may be a Physician to yourself, if you please. Nay, it is in your own hand to kill or cure. I do not know your meaning (answered Doriclea) but surely, Sir, you have no such strange conceit of me, as to think myself so much my own foe, as not to cure myself if I could. I have not, Mistress, said he, but my skill fails me▪ if you may not do much if you would. I pray you let me ask you one thing, Mistress; are you not strongly troubled with imaginations? I have a fantasy, quoth she, as others have, and that must needs according to the nature of it, be discursively wand'ring here and there, but never fixed on any one Object. I will burn my Books, said Eschites, if that prove so. Come, Mistress, I must be round with you; your mind h'as begot in your body this distemper: your blood had never been infected, had not your mind been first to love affected. Be then so much a friend to yourself, as either labour to forget him: or by imparting your thoughts more freely to your Parents, to enjoy him. This is the best receipt that Art can apply to you; which if you reject, die, and who will pity you? Doriclea wondered much how Eschites art could possibly so soon make him of her Cabinet counsel; as so quickly to discover her infirmity. B●t long it was before her modesty would admit any such discovery. At last, with a winning kind of reluctancy, after a Vermilion blush, which played the shamefast Harbinger to prepare way for what should come after, she disclosed her grief freely to Eschites, 
De●iclea discovers her grief to Eschews.  in this manner. Sir, so presuming am I of your secrecy, as a poor Patient intends to make her Physician, her Secretary: nor am I less confident of your care then your cure: of your care to keep my counsel; then of your desire to cure my Malady. I shall here relate to you, what I meant to have buried with me. It is true Sir, there is one that I have lodged near my heart, and remove him I cannot; and enjoy him I may not. Nor will I conceal from you any thing: the Man who h'as taken this place is Philocles, now a banished man to his Country; which censure he he's voluntarily incurred and cheerfully embraced to decline my Parent's fury. And his absence it is, Sir, that h'as begot in me this infirmity. No sooner did Eschites hear Philocles named, than he rejoiced much to have so fair an occasion offered him, both in respect of his Patient whom he desired to recover: as likewise for the advancement of his friend Philocles, whose former acquaintance had engaged his respects more than any other. To palliate all things then with more art: he intends to work a cure without applying any medicinal receipt: and this must be by Argument, for otherwise he knows not how to effect it. And now a fit opportunity is given him: for this persuasive receipt must not be ministered to his Patient, but her Parent. Who desirous to hear what the Physician's opinion was touching their Daughter, came in the very instant; which prevented Doriclea from imparting her mind any more at that time to Eschites. Androgeus beckoning oft to the Physician, demanded of him what he thought of his Daughter, and whether he had hope to recover her or no. Eschites withdrawing himself a little from her bed side, and taking her Parents aside, begun freely to discover his opinion of her in this manner.  
Sir, 
〈◊〉 opinion of 〈◊〉  as it he's never been my use in the whole course of my profession to delude my Patient with vain hope, where I found my receipts could afford no help: so I must ingenuously tell you what I think without flattering you: in cases of this extremity, I find small hope of recovery: unless her youth be a means to repel the malignity of this humour. Nature is much weakened in her. Her sleep, which is the very dew of the brain, h'as left her. Nourishment will she take none, and if she did, yet by reason of obstructions in the Orifice of her stomach, it would not digest with her. So as, should I apply purgative or ligative medicines unto her, yet would they work small effect, by means of those indispoed humours which have got dominion over her. Shall I tell you my mind freely? It is not in the virtue of herbs that may return her remedy: her malady proceeds from fancy: which must receive 〈◊〉 from the Object it loves, or no hope of recovery.  
Having delivered his opinion in this sore, he took Androgeus and Euryclea by the hand: desiring to know of them whether their Daughter had not at any time professed love to some Gentleman or other in those parts: or whether she had not discovered so much unto them? yes, answered Androgeus, ●he doted too much upon one Philocles, whom I here retained for her Schoolmaster: one of knowing parts, but weak fortunes. Then it seems, said Eschites, you crossed her in her desires. We did indeed, answered Androgeus; for we conceived that such a marriage would 〈◊〉 highly to her dishonour, to marry a poor private Scholar: and therefore sought to decline her affection that way. Which, like an obedient child, she he's since that time done; and observed our directions with that care, as an ancient Gentleman, and one whom you well know, whose rising fortunes may highly advance her, h'as lately renewed his suit unto her: whom she with all fair respect entertains. So as her former indiscreet fancy seems wholly banished: and consequently her Malady, if it should proceed from any such occasional fancy, perfectly cured. Alas, replied Eschites, what your Daughter may pretend is one thing, but what she intends is another. Affection I must tell you will be hardly forced: whatsoever her filial obedience may enjoin her; love retains too much sovereignty to be so countermanded: or to extinguish that heat which it first cherished.  
Thus he, though he professed no such matter, but as an Artist should in delivering his opinion touching their Daughter, expressed himself an intimate Friend to Philocles, by making show as if he despaired of her recovery, closing his judgement with this Maxim: That no Malady arising from fancy, could without enjoyment of the Object loved, receive remedy. Which much perplexed her sorrowful Parents, conceiving by Eschites relation, that the image of Philocles had stamped so deep an impression in their Daughter's affection, as the ground of her distemper arose from being so imperiously divided from her Lover.   

CHAP. XXVII.  
The Parents of Doriclea conceive incessant grief for their distempered Daughter; they bemoan their neglect of Philocles, and disesteem of his love: But they find no hope of relief to their languishing Daughter, seeing the means of her cure was reported to have entered a Regular Order.  
DOriclea could not more passionately suffer in this her amorous distemper, than her Parents did for their daughter. Tender was their love, and incessant was the grief they did conceive. No means was left unassaid; no cure unpractised, to regain her health whom they so dear loved. But all experiments were in vain: the more they laboured, them o'er she languished. So as little could be expected, but that this her increasing distemper would bring her e'er long to pay her debt to nature. This moved Androgeus and Euryclea the tender affectionate Parents of sick Doriclea, to bemoan their neglect of Philocles, and disesteem of his love, which her Father one day discovered with a pensive heart, and passionate voice in this sort.  
O Euryclea, how well have we deserved to suffer this affliction, in neglecting Philocles and his honest affection? Admit his fortunes were poor, his conversation was virtuous, his life blameless, and his love to our Daughter loyal and religious. Were we to contemn him, because Fortune had not so freely imparted herself to him? Was love only to be weighed by means, without respect to those inward endowments which confer the best beauty on man? What comfort might we have reaped in seeing them live in constancy of love: and composing their minds to their state; to bestow the residue of their days in content? A● must not be neglected, whom Fortune h'as not favoured. It is blind love that is directed by such a deity. And too tyrann●●● are those Parents to their Children, who labour to enforce their affection.  
It may be, said Euryclea, that her distemper, for all this opinion of her Doctors, receives ground from some other grief. For I verily think, Doriclea could not so dissemble with us, as to pretend love to Mardanes, and retain such a constant remembrance of Philocles. Let us call forth then if you please, her Maid Mellida; who knows her mind best, and we shall perceive by her, whether her fancy continue towards Philocles or no. Mellida, who sorrowed no less for her Mistress sickness then any: for her distemper wholly declined her hopes from enjoying her Mard●nes: acquainted them, how those little short sleeps she had, were full of distractions: and how ever and anon she called upon Philocles. Which so confirmed them, as they presently gathered that his absence had begot this distemper in their languishing Daughter: which highly aggravated their sorrow. Gladly would they recall him, so they might regain him, but they find no hope of relief to their weak Daughter; seeing the means of her cure (the sole cordial of her care) was reported to have entered a Regular Order. No hope then remained for her recovery▪ being so deprived of the Object of her fancy.  
While they were thus discoursing and descanting of their grief, one below called for Mellida; which was a Messenger indeed from Mardanes with a Letter directed to Doriclea: the issue of whose motion her Parents desired much to partake. So a●, presently upon Mellida's going in to her Mistress to deliver this Letter, they went in after her, but with that privacy, as upon the delivery and perusal of the Letter, Doriclea knew not they were there. The Contents of this amorous Scroll were these.  
DOriclea, you may expect that these lines should have been prevented by ●y personal attendance: and trust me so they had, could I have dispensed with one occasion which requires present dispatch. Let not the least conceit of disloyalty prepossess you. I will sooner perchance then your own opinion can assure you, se● you, to consummate our joys, which, by how much the longer delayed, in our fruition will be more sweetened.  
Alas, good Man, said Doriclea! how he troubles his brains to no purpose? As if his personal presence could do me any good, or procure me ease! No, no; unless he were transformed into Philocles; and then the enjoyment of his feature would do me an infinite pleasure.  
Surely, said Mellida, I could with with all my heart that we had them both in their own proper shapes: I know who would be the more precious pearl in my eye. Well, replied Doriclea, God send thee much good of him, when thou shalt have him. And if I recover my health, whereof as yet I find small hope, I should make little doubt but by a device I have, to possess thee of him. I pray God you may have your health restored you soon, said Mellida; for I am sure you cannot suffer more in your Fever, than I myself do, till I be made happy by the free enjoyment of Mardanes favour.  
This discourse seemed strange to Doriclea's Parents, for they little knew what their Daughter intended by that device: howsoever, they now perceived that the love she pretended to Mardanes was not real, but dissembling: and that Philocles was the Man who was only interessed in her heart: and that without him she despaired of health. Which could not choose but strangely perplex her affectionate Parents; who now, so they might become confident of their Daughter's recovery, would easily incline to Philocles fancy. But they were out of all hope to procure her health by this means: seeing, retired Philocles was now to his Country a stranger, and had entered a strict religious Order: which assured them, that he had now disclaimed the title of a Lover.   

CHAP. XXVIII.  
Eschites undertakes, upon promise of their acceptance, to use his best endeavour for calling Philocles homeward; and that he is resolved, how Philocles time of Probation will be quickly relinquished, when he shall bear least hope of enjoying his Doriclea's affection.  
Weakened daily became constant Doriclea, by means of this her languishing distemper. For now her stomach, by feeding on those fancies which her loyal love to Philocles usually suggested, was so sated: as other nourishment she could admit none: unless such Julips or Cordials as required no strong digestion: so well became Nature sustained with the very conceit of affection. Nor is this much to be admired; for if that Maid of P●i●tiers could abstain so many years from all sustenance, and be surprised by no such fancy; what may we imagine of Doriclea, whose digestive parts were so well satisfied with the thoughts only of her dearest Philocles, as no repast could comparably delight or refresh decayed Nature, so much as the very conceit or apprehension of his affectionate feature.  
Her Parents desirous to try all means to allay her grief, and to banish the memory of her transplanted friend from her distempered mind: sent for such neighbouring Maids as formerly kept her company to come to her: and to invent one sport or other to pass away the lingering night, or to tell Tales to solace her troubled brain, which for want of sleep, was much distempered. And many pleasant pastimes would these Country Girls find out, purposely to cheer her. While one amongst the rest drawing ●eare the Bedside, and taking Doriclea by the hand; Good Lord, Mistress, said she, what a stir you make with this love? I am sure for my part I am troubled with a thing as like love as can be, and whether it be downright love or no I know not: but every night there appears to my fancy, a dainty proper young Man, but of what Country I know not▪ and to my knowledge, waking I never yet saw him. But trust me Mistress, I wondrously love him: and if he be no Hob-Thr●sh nor no Robin● Goodfellow, I could find with all my heart to sip up a Silly-bub with him in my Father's Broome-pasture. For I shall on my conscience never love any one half so well. And yet I know not whether I shall love him when I am waking so well as when I am sleeping: nor do I know whether I should know him, if I should see him: and yet every night I infinitely love him, and could choose to live with him, if he be flesh and blood, as I hope he is; for else I should not for all the world endure him.  
Doriclea could not choose but smile within herself to hear this simple Country Girl discover her imaginary love in this manner. While an other as simple as the former, but a more real and substantial lover, stepped forth; and as one angry that her fellow should spend so much time in discovery of a Dream, or a dreaming fancy, she proceeded in this sort. Sister, what makes you thus trouble Mistress Doriclea's ears with a story of a Cock and a Bull? Dreams are but fanci●s of the brain: and a thousand nights have I had such Dreams: and me thought took great delight in such a youngsters company, that I cared not a Chip for next morning. But I pray you Mistress Doriclea hear my Fortune: for I love in good earnest; and if he be a just Man of his word, he loves me too. Climenes is the Man, I am not ashamed of my choice: a proper Dapper Youth, and h'as won the best prizes from Admetus, Melintus, Palemon, and the activest Youths of all our Parish, at our Summer-Games two years together. And my Father, good Man, h'as promised him, that if he come away with the prizes next year again, he will bestow me on him. And I could wish with all mine heart, that I were his now; for a whole year will be too long to languish in love. But one thing now above all others, there is, Mistress, that grieves me; and it is this, Our Neighbours say, he will never have a Beard; and what a riveled Russeting will he look when he comes to age? But if Nature will not be so bountiful to him, if there be a Beard-maker in all our Country, I will want of my will but he shall furnish him. Your case is happy in comparison of mine, said the third Girl; one of you loves, and you know not whom; another loves, and may enjoy whom she loves: but my Fortune is harder: for AEgon professed as much love to me, as ever Suitor did to Woman: and I knew nothing but that he thought as he spoke, and would perform what he had promised. But swains can dissemble as well as greater Men: for going th' other day to our Parish Church, ● might hear the Banes of Marriage publicly asked betwixt AEgon and Leucippe: so as, all those professions of love wherein he ●ood engaged to his M●tilda, must now be renounced, and a new love entertained. And yet, Mistress Doricle● I were a Fool to lay that to my heart, which another lies to his heel. A disloyal Man should never break the heart of a wise Maid. He that can so easily leave his old Love, may stand in need of the least grain of it if he live. Mean time, I hope if I live, to enjoy one who shall more constantly love. Thus discoursed these Country Girls; and much content took Doriclea in this relation of their simple loves. But her Father and Mother coming in, prevented all further discourse, for that time. Their Daughter they found still languishing: small or no hope of recovery ministered least comfort unto them. Many times they wished, that they had not opposed her affection, but inclined to her will; for so they might have enjoyed what now by all probability is very likely to be taken from them. And as they were thus bemoaning their sick Daughter, who daily grew weaker in strength, but stronger in her distemper; Eschites came into the Chamber, enquiring how it was with her? Drawing nearer and nearer to her end, answered her Father. Small hope of amends appears yet. Nor will any probably appear, to my judgement, said Eschites. No cure can be possibly effected, till the cause be removed▪ And though the cause of her distemper be too far removed, as the case now stands, the cause must be restored, or no recovery to be expected. Androgeus desiring to know what he meant, requested him to explain himself. To whose satisfaction he willingly inclined, and in a grave demure manner, imparted his mind freely to them: discovering both the grounds first introducing, and receipts most sovereign for curing her distemper.  
Sir, 
Eschites Speech to Androgeus.  you may remember, how forth of experienced grounds of Art, I sometimes told you, which they shall find true that have near relation to you: That no Malady arising from fancy, could without enjoyment of the Object loved, receive remedy. And though love rarely work such effects in these days: yet, too near an instance you have here of your own, who confirms what powerful, nay incurable distempers the quality of love produceth; not only in the affections but constitutions of such who have received such deep impressions of love, as they must seize on the person they effect, or cease to live. Too long have you deceived yourselves with flattering hopes, expecting that either by strength of Nature, which you may perceive much enfeebled in her, or by Physical means, which I told you could smally benefit her, she might recover health. And now you see, how far she is from seconding your hopes: as every day promiseth nothing but a decline from worse to worse. To prevent this, if you expect ever to see her in health again, give way to my directions: let her enjoy what she he's so unfeignedly desired. It is Philocles that must perform this Cure, or effectless is our Art, fruitless our Care. Let him then be called home, whose return gives me assured hope of her health.  
Alas, answered Androgeus, if that were possible to be done, we should easily incline to such a motion: but as he is not only divided from us, but entered a strict-austere Order, there is small hope that ever his purpose is to return hither. For since his departure hence, I received a passionate Letter from him: wherein he not only humbly craved my pardon for his indiscreet pursuit of my Daughter's affection, but advertised me of his late Conversion. And how that course which he had now embraced, had aliened his thoughts from all light love; and that the choice he had now made, should during life admit no change.  
Very like, said Eschites; But I pray you how expound you that Clause? His Choice, no doubt, which he meant by was your Daughter, which he never intended to change. Come Sir, Discourses in affairs of this nature should be used as preparatives of what may succeed after: you desire your Daughter's health, and you perceive the means to effect it: but out of a scrupulous fear you doubt the way is diverted. What say you unto him that shall expedite the way: and make you happy (if nature be not too much debilitated) in her recovery? We shall be defective in nothing that may further it, nor ungrateful to whomsoever shall labour in it, said her Parents. With which words Eschites, who tendered nothing more than the advancement of his affectionate Philocles, became so encouraged, as he undertakes, upon promise of their acceptance, to use his best endeavour for calling Philocles homeward.  
O said Androgeus, fruitless will be your endeavour in an assay of that nature! Religious courses must not be so soon diverted: Fancy can now have no place with him, I am persuaded. So as you may to more purpose desist from any such enterprise, then go on with it. Be not so definite in your opinion, nor so constant in your fears, answered Eschites. Admit his thoughts have entertained any such conceit, it is very likely he is not settled in it: and then I am resolved, how Philocles time of Probation will be quickly expired, and his purpose soon relinquished, when he shall hear the least hope of enjoying his Doriclea's affection. Howsoever, recommend the carriage hereof to my care, and impute the error to my neglect, if I fail in the cure.   

CHAP. XXIX.  
Androgeus hears how Philocles, besides his other native endowments, was descended of a generous Family; which enfl●ames his desires more to see him return into his Country. He vows never to oppose this Solemnity, so his presence may cure her infirmity.  
OPportunity now had offered itself to Eschit●s to befriend his dearely-respected Philocles: and Fortune opened her bounty to Philocles to ingratiate himself by the interceding of Eschites. Neither was Androge●s less serious to accomplish what his promise had engaged him to perform upon the undertaking of Eschites. And greater reason he finds to comply with such a motion then before: in regard he hears how Philocles, whom he so much dis-esteemed, as he held it to be a disparagement to his house to incline to any such obscure Match; besides his other native endowments, which well deserved the best of fancy, to be descended of a generous Family, which came to his ear upon this occasion.  
A Gentleman of quality chanced to come into those parts to inquire of Philocles: with news that fair fortunes were lately befallen him by death of his Uncle; who had conferred on him his estate, by adopting him for his Heir. And thither was Euphilus, for so was this Gentleman called, directed, to impart these tidings to his affectionate Philocles. These news came to the hearing of Androgeus, who desiring to become better satisfied touching his descent and fortunes, repaired to Euphilus, to whom he addressed himself in this discourse.  
Sir, I understand you are a stranger in these parts, and have taken your journey hither to inquire after one Philocles: you may be pleased to know that one of that name sojourned sometimes here with me: but whether the same whom you desire to find, I know not: but by his description you may become better satisfied.  
The Gentleman whom I so much desire to see answered Euphilus, was of a middle stature, black haired, and sanguine complexion; and to this Coast, as his friends are informed, came he; where he was placed in a Gentleman's house, to teach, and educate his Children. For though his fortunes promised fair upon some expectance hereafter; yet his present means were so short, that after some short stay in the University, he retired into the Country: for so free-bred and truly generous was his nature, that he could not brook beholdingness, nor rely on others dependence. And I must tell you Sir, during all that time wherein we remained together, & equally communicated our Studies one to another, such infinite content we mutually conceived in one & th● others company, as nothing appeared either so grateful to me, nor so delightful to him, as the fruition of this Society. So as in time we became Sworne-Brothers: no less friendly than freely imparting what either comforted us, or by any other occurrent crossed us, with such confident familiarity to one another's bosom, as our comforts by partaking one with th' other became highly augmented; and our afflictions, if any such befell, sweetly allayed.  
This was an excellent argument of unfeigned friendship, said Androge●s, and such as deserves approvement with good men. It is true, replied Euphilus; but this happy amicable condition of ours could not promise to itself any firm nor fixed continuance: for as his disposition became disheartened by some occurrents, so was he enforced to discontinue those Academic Studies wherein he had so commendably profited; and to embrace a life much different to his humour, by accepting the government of a private charge, as his friends have been since informed: a course, I must ingenuously tell you, which his nobler thoughts sometimes highly scorned: but there we hear he was planted, and purchased that good opinion of the Family where he resided, as nothing could be accounted too dear for one whom they so dear loved.  
There is none that can more truly witness the truth of that relation than myself, answered Androgeus. For into my Family (as by your description I am satisfied) he was hospitably received, affably entertained, where he for a time lived, none more beloved. But all this could not content him; for his more ambitious thoughts could not contain him, but out of a presuming confidence from his too familiar entertainment in this manner, he attempted the affection of my Daughter; my only Daughter; one in whom I had treasured my hopes: and her he solicits with such instancy, as her indisereet affection begun to incline to fancy. Fortunes she had proffered her, which might highly advance her; Suitors of eminent account, approved repute, ancient descent in their Country; yet could not all these decline her resolution from that whereon ●he had so strongly fixed and firmly fancied.  
Imagine then, good Sir, how this could do less then highly perplex her too careful Parents; and consequently incense them against his boldness: who out of too much presumption, desisted from those grounds or principles of education, to work in her easy disposition moving impressions of affection! This resolves me nothing, replied Eu●hilus, where now Philogenes may remain; whose fight I so much desire to partake: and to whom I am to impart such tidings as mainly concern him, and which by the just decree of Heaven are very like highly to improve him.  
I must tell you, said Androgeus, and sorry am I that I must be enforced to tell you so much, that the goodness of his nature and sweetness of his temper was such, as conceiving the distaste we took at this his presumptuous attempt to be great, and our indignation irreconciliable: he voluntarily left these parts, and as he he's since further informed us, devoted himself to such a strict-regular course, as now he disesteemes all light fancy, and made devotion his choice.  
Your usage, it seems, answered Euphilus, drove him to these extremes. And unthankful you to requite his virtuous affection with such disdain. For I must tell you Sir, though I make no question but your Family is ancient, your fortunes fair and eminent, yet had you known his fame and Family, as well as you were acquainted with his fancy, you would have held it no dishonour for Philogeves to match with your Daughter.  
Androgeus desired much to hear of his descent; which his faithful friend Euphilus related in such manner, as it begot tears in the Old-man's eyes; repenting much that he rejected one whose nobler parts so well deserved, and whose generous and ancient lineage seconded those excellent endowments wherewith he stood graced. And thus continued these two their discourse, till such time as one came to Euphilus, acquainting him how a Page below would speak with him: which broke off their conference for that time: resolving next day to meet again, and to conclude of some course, that if too strict a tye had not engaged him, he might be recalled, to enjoy what he so much affected, and what his own fame, family, fortunes, and fancy, so well merited. Whereto sorrowful Androgeus replied, that a Gentleman of good account, and eminent in his Profession, meaning Es●hites, had undertaken something to that effect, but whether likely to produce any good end or no he knew not.  
Mean time, Euphilus goes down to the Page which stayed below for him; to whom he delivered a Letter written, as this Page pretended, by one Albanus an intimate acquaintance unto Euphilus, the Contents whereof were these.  
Firm friend, 
V●l●ria in a disguise, seconded by a counterfeited Letter from Alban●●, presents his Service to Euphilus.  my resolutions are now fixed for Travel; and something I desired to leave you as an argument of that constant love I bear you. Receive then this Page, and retain him for his sake, who could not send you a Token which he did more esteem, nor what his endeavours will more deserve. Your disposition I know to be mild, which will comply well with the easiness of his condition; and whose approvement may hereafter win more ground on your affection. Trust not Albanus, if your further trial of him confirm ●ot what I have promised for him. The Winds call me, the Mariners hasten me, so as I must contract my lines while they spread out their Sails, closing in this our absence, one from th' other, with this constant Subscription of  
your affectionate Brother.  
Now, what was meant by this Letter, our History must not as yet discover. Let it suffice, that this Page was his own Secretary; and had lodged Euphilus so dear in his thoughts, as he accounted it his highest earthly solace to be admitted to his service.  
Return we now to Androgeus, whom we may suppose, upon this relation of Philocles Fortunes and Family, to have his glowing desires more inflamed to see him return into his Country. But doubtful he remains ever to enjoy so much happiness: for the Sea, as he understands, h'as divided him; and his late regular profession so confined him: asif his desires stood so affected yet could he see no possibility to have it effected, seeing those vows (as he conceived, but herein deceived) could not so easily be dispensed. And highly did Androgeus admire the modesty of Philogenes: who never all the time that he sojourned in his house, would discover so much either touching those possibilities which now his fortunes had conferred on him, or that lineal descent from whence he was derived. An undoubted argument, surely, of a noble mind; which desires rather to display his descent by actions of desert: then arrogantly to boast of the House from whence he descended; and by his ignoble expressions to debase that honour which was lineally derived. For what is it to glory in guilded Earth; or to magnify one's self in the generosity of his Race: when Virtues, which should be the best Signals to distinguish a noble Stock, have lost their impressure in him? For better is it to be ignobly derived, and virtuously accomplished; then Nobly descended, and viciously affected. And as every thing retains his degree of dignity in goodness: so holds it the same degree of illness when it is abused: for honour never looks so unlike itself as when it is disparraged. But where descent and desert meet, they present such a comely structure; as it becomes an imitable precedent of honour. And in these did Androgeus seirously reflect upon Philogenes. So as, a double respect may seem mutually to engage him: a constant care of his Daughter's cure: and a desire to have her so matched, as fame, fortune, and family, with such loyal arguments of fancy may jointly meet.  
He vows then never to oppose this solemnity, so his presence may cure her infirmity. This induceth him to wish all fair success to Eschites faithful endeavour; the prosperous issue whereof (though encountered with some rubs) you shall understand hereafter.   

CHAP. XXX.  
Philocles returns home; and is accepted by the Parents for their Son in law. This revives their seeming distempered Daughter; yet fearing still a relapse of her Parent's acceptance, she feigns the continuance of her distemper.  
NOw had retired Philocles by the means of Eschites, received word of his dearest Doriclea's distemper: and privately, how he conceived that his return from that fruitless retire, would not only free her from further danger, but be a direct way to accomplish his own desires. So as, there was nothing more expected than his speedy repair by her Parents: which, (if he intended not to stand in his own light, and prevent all promising hopes to do himself good) he wished him not to foreslow, lest delay might increase her distemper, & consequently abridge his hopes of aspiring higher. But such inducements little needed to hasten with winged speed the return of Phil●cles. Nor could he at first imagine this relation of his friend Eschites to be any thing else but a dream, or some practice to surprise him: so as he seemed doubtful what to resolve, protracting so much time till he had expostulated with his own thoughts: by offering unto them a survey of those dangers he might probably incur, with those incredible comforts, which if these relations proved true, he might assuredly partake.  
Happy, thrice happy art thou Philocles, if these news be true which come from thy Eschites! But canst thou expect so present a calm after so rough a tempest? Were not all her friends lately opposed against thee, and so incensed at thee, as nothing could appease their fury but thy captivity, nay thy blood, if they could have seized on thee? And were these deep Characters of their boundless passion writ in Sand, that they should be so quickly razed: or their vowed revenge so easily forgotten, that it should be so speedily extinguished? Well, I know net what to think on't! These lines writ by my dear Eschites makes me confident: but those experienced practices of her incensed friends and my implacable foes makes me more irresolute. I am assured, that Eschites would not engage his Pen to one line, that might endanger my life. And I know this to be his own Character. Besides, to make his relation more probable, he here tells thee of Doriclea's distemper, and how her Fever took her upon thy departure from her: and how thy return, if his judgement fail him not, may recover her. Be it then unto death, I will encounter with the worst of danger, so my presence may restore her, and cure her distemper. Pretended fears are mere shadows to loyal fancy. They cannot strike that heart which is truly struck with love. And I appeal to thee Doricl●a, if mine be not truly wounded. Be my return then for thy safety, and I shall hold my desir●s crowned in perishing for thee.  
This said, in a private disguise he addresseth himself for his return; to the end he might with less suspicion repair to his firm friend Eschites, and upon further conference with him, be satisfied whether the Coast were clear or no. And in short time might he make his return, seeing, whatsoever he pretended, his distance was not great by means of his retire. For as yet he had not crossed the Seas, nor taken any other Order then the constant profe●●ion of a Lover: who had made Doriclea his Saint, to whom he was so devoted, as wheresoever he sojourned; his engaged hear● could not be divided from that object where●●t was so inseparably united.  
But the ways of love, when they promise most smoothness, are ever encountered with sundry difficulties. This our Philocles felt, who in his return walking one evening on the Seashore, to refresh his spirits with the air of the Sea, was had in suspicion by some Seafaring-men for a Spy, and restrained that night by command; with a purpose next morning to bring him before a Justice, who had given direction upon notice thereof, that he should be safely guarded, and early next morn he would take examination of him: and upon what occasion he took such serious survey of that Coast and Vessels within the Road. Philocles, as it fortuned, having been formerly acquainted with this Gentleman who should examine him (for they had been Cöacademicks) and fearing much lest these delays might either be interpreted in him a coldness of fancy, or towards his approved Eschites an opinionate jealousy; to hasten his departure thence, he prepared his way to this Justice, in these lines.  
Sir,  
L Awes which should be lines of life, to direct, to support, and steer the course of an injuried Supplicant, are for most part become Spiderwebs to enwreathe and enwarp the smaller, to give more liberty to a powerful Offender. See the misery of time! But to recall myself, this is not the error of time, but of man. Where a direct eye becomes squinted by respect; or bleared by receipt; or quite put out by a prejudicated conceit. Dangerous aims are these to a well-governed State. Where Religion shapes itself to Policy, and candid pretences close with impiety. As you are Man, observe that Golden-meane, which returns the best Character of Man. The fairest path that conducts man to immortality, is ever on this Theatre of Earth, to remember his mortality. And the nearest resemblance that Man can have to his Maker, is to mix Justice with Mercy, and to reduce them to ●n equal temper: by exhibiting them to all in a proportionable ●easure. lilies among Thorns are Beauteous Objects. Be you the same in this World of Weeds. So shall your name flourish, and have a report behind you better meriting praise; then eminency of state, or precedency of place.  
These Paper Presents are but weak reflections of stronger affections: yet being the best Sacrifice of a friend and no Spy, (unless it be in the scrutiny of his own heart) they deserve the higher place in your esteem.  
Mean time, express your sel●e what your Country expects from you, the State requires of you, and for which all good men will love you: which shall be the most assiduate and affectionate wish of him, who remains  
the constant honourer of your virtues, Philocles.  
This Letter infinitely pleased the Gentleman; but when he found it subscribed to by Philocles, the Character pleased him so much the better. In a word, so far was he from entertaining him as a Spy, as he familiarly embraced him in the arms of a friend. His Guarders were soon discharged: desiring nothing more than to hear the relation of his fortunes. Which done, after his earnest invitation to stay longer with him, he accommodated him with whatsoever might necessarily befit him: & with a friendly dismission wished him all happy success in his love-assay.  
The next evening, he privately came to his constant friend Eschites his house; with whom he freely conversed, being satisfied by him that all things were very like to second his expectation: and how nothing was more desired than his speedy and happy arrival. Yet, he told him withal, that he held it fitting that he should not presently approach the presence of his Mistress, lest she, who was not as yet wholly recovered, by being overjoyed by his presence, might make relapse into her sickness: which to prevent, he intended to prepare her by degrees, to the end his unexpected coming to her, might through an immoderate passion of joy, less occasion her distemper. Mean time, while this approved Artist was preparing way for his securer access to his Mistress, he neglects not that office which amity enjoins him to perform to his Friend. For having heard where his faithful friend Euphilus lodged, whom he so intimately loved; and that for his cause he was there arrived▪ he could not choose but express those loyal devotions which his love so much deserved, and what his travail for his sake had so well confirmed. It is not easy to relate what incredible joy and comfort the one conceived in the others presence: wherewith Philo●les seemed so intranced, as in the end not able to contain himself any longer, but out of the affluence of his joy, he burst forth in this manner.  
Dear Euphilus, I now perceive well that the influence of those Divine Powers, whose eyes are ever fixed on us, knows best how to attemper our greatest discomforts with rays of solace. Long it is not since we were divided, yet during that small distance of time, never did poor mortal encounter with more extremes, nor taste less of hope, nor partake less in help. Enjoined I was to live where I did most loathe; and to be estranged from that place where I did most love. Divided I was not only from my fancy, but restrained of my liberty. Those whom I honoured most for her dear sake whom I loved best, published themselves my professed foes: desiring nothing more than to have me in pursuit; yea, and if the Laws would extend so far, to bring me within the compass of my life to recompense the constancy of my love. Yet behold! how by the Divine Clemency this storm is cleared; these menacing Clouds dispelled; these foggy vapours dispersed; poor Philocles released; his captivity to liberty reduced; what he least expected now freely offered: and that humane comforts might come linked, as my former discomforts came not singled: behold, a double blessing environs me! The presence of a firm Friend, with the fruition of a fair Mistress.  
Euphilus no less rejoiced in the enjoyment of his Philocles; to whom, after he had related the occasion of his repair to those parts, and mutually solaced themselves in the repetition of their former pleasures and studies: A Messenger from Eschites cut off their further discourse: for now was Philocles summoned to a more amiable task; the delightful visit of his Doriclea. The absolute comfort whereof is more easily conceived, then delivered: for in discoveries of this nature, Imagination ever becomes the best Painter. Let it suffice, that their first salute closed itself in silence; discourse was supplied with long-languishing looks. Tongues had their ties, while affection became sole Prolocutor for the heart. One that had seen Philocles, would have thought that he had been some professed Artist: and that he was gathering the symptoms of her Malady by the motion of her pulse.  
And for Doriclea, though she durst not well forget her Fever for fear of her Father, yet she found in herself no such distemper, but she might leave her Bed, and admit the style of a Bride, so this dissembling love-errour might free her from censure. Nor need she much fear her Parent's displeasure; for so propitious a Genius haas breathed on Philocles, as in this his return home, Hymen is ready to pronounce his doom, being so well accepted by the Parents for their Son in law. This so revives their seeming-distempered Daughter, as her Doctor may safely leave her, seeing Philocles presence secures her from danger.  
A silent expression, gives the pregnant'st testimony of a deep grounded affection; 
☞  where every l●o● darts forth love; no other parlance was afforded to these two ecstasied lovers: unless a trickling tear drained from the exuberance of love, stole innocently from Doriclea, to discover that passionate impression, wrought in her amazed thoughts through affection: thus were loves lines legible in both their eyes; and their eyes sole intelligencers to their thoughts.  
Much had restored Philocles to speak to D●riclea: no less, had restrained Doriclea to impart to Philocles. Joys had their fresh supplies; as if some golden dream had imparadised their thoughts with some glorious vision; the conception whereof could not be delivered, till a sacred Rite had really confirmed, what their united hearts had mutually vowed.  
Yet like a discreet jealous Girl, fearing still a declining of her Parent's acceptance, which might beget in her a relapse, or some further inconvenience, she feigns the continuance of her distemper: which soon after becomes clearly removed by her Parents cheerful approvement of their loves, as you shall hear hereafter.   

CHAP. XXXI.  
The Marriage is solemnised; and with such privacy as known to none but their own Family. Valeria, who was supposed to be Euphilus Page, discovers himself to be Philocles Sister; with whose consent Euphilus marries, being long before privately affianced to her.  
FAncy, which had been so long in conceiving, must now come to her full birth & perfection: And that which before breathed only in desires, must now cheerfully aspire to action. Suppose we now Doriclea to have shaken off her Fever, left her Chamber, to prepare herself for those loyal and lawful embraces of her constant ●over. Her Parents to enlarge the extent of her comforts, rejoice no less in their Son, than she in her Spouse.  
All things are provided, nothing neglected that may comply with the content of two enlivened spirits so affectionately united Hands could not be wanting, where hearts were so jointly knitting. Nor could there want a full Consort to cheer their assistants with complete harmony; when these two affectionate Consorts so gracefully appeared in Hymen's livery. What would you have more to life expressed? The memory of their forme● discomforts becomes quite, exiled by this presentment. Here might you see loves Metamorp●●o●is lively acted, and by such persons, as their ●●●ractive features bestowed an infinite grace on whatsoever they presented. But Love admits no Rhetoric; unless it be that which the Orator held the sole ornament and accomplishment of an Oration, which without any other adjunct completely closed itself in Action. To make an abstract then of all, conceive our late distempered Doriclea now recovered (and perchance her feigned ●ever discovered,) her dear Philocles now restored, and in a new state ready to be invested, her distasted Parents now attoned, and all things so well composed: as this long-desired Marriage is now to be solemnised; and with such privacy, as known to none but their own Family. Mellida, who every foot, no doubt, thinks of her own Sweetheart must be the only Bride-maide to her Mistress: and faithful Euphilus the only choice Consort that must wait on Philocles. The way with flowers is privately paved; no Guest invited but what their own Family afforded; all things were with much secrecy carried, and to good purpose, as shall be hereafter declared.  
To the Temple they come, where these Nuptials are with all privacy celebrated. And here Dorielea's Father takes his Daughter by the hand, and plays the best part that joyful Doriclea could ever receive from a Father. Which Rite being thus solemnised, and the Married Couple with their few Attendants homeward returned: an other occasion of infinite joy unexpectedly arose from this auspicious meeting.  
After dinner, Philocles with his dearest Doriclea, took along with them in their company his loyal and constant friend Euph●lus to recreate their spirits abroad: to whom Philocles imparted himself in this sort.  
Dear Friend, though every minute of time be this day incomparably precious to me, being only to be employed in discourse with my Choice: yet must I reserve ever some hours for yourself, from whom I have received not only contentment in my youth, when our Studies were communicated together, but from that continuate profession and expression of your love; all which confirm me yours so long as I have life. You have been this day a witness of my long-expected happiness: nor could I have one, to whom I stood more endeared, in all the world to witness it. And I should hold my wishes highly crowned might I have you seized of her whom you sometimes so much affected. I mean Valeria, one, who though my Sister, preferred you in her conceit far above her Brother. And I must freely unbosom myself to you; it did not a little content me to perceive such arguments of mutual affection betwixt you. But perhaps, E●philus, your disposition becomes now estranged from those thoughts. Either her mean fortunes could not content you, or some averseness in her friends distasted you; or some better hopes of preferment have so possessed you, as Ualeria h'as lost that place in your heart, which she sometimes had, and consequently, poor Wench, must be content against her will to forego, what she so entirely desired, and leave you to a Choice whom you better deserved.  
You retain a worse opinion of me, Philocles, than my true zeal and affection to your virtuous Sister ever yet expressed. No, my noble friend, Ualeria never found Euphilus inconstant to this hour. I have preferred her in my choice, & fortified my resolves against a change. Nor was it a weakness in her fortunes that declined my love: but the mean estate of a younger Brother which could not supply us with means how to live.  
This was discreet love, answered Philocles; those who truly love, make it the least of their fears, how they may afterwards live. But if that be the only let, I shall easily supply that want. I have not prized your love at so low an estimate, as to account you worthy so near a gage as Brotherhood, and then exclude you from sha●ing in my estate. My Uncle's providence shall be unto us an equal purchase. Be not so unadvisedly modest as to refuse it; you shall accept it, with her love to boot who may deserve it. And when your rising hopes shall better furnish you, then may your modesty requite it.  
This free and friendly offer forced Euphilus to reply with silence: which Philocles observing; What, said he do you take this curtsy so strangely, as if it were not an inherent office of amity, for friends to have dependence one of an other in cases of necessity? Trust me Euphilus, were you in my case, I should make bold upon the same terms, to become a sharer with you in whatsoever fortune with a more bounteous hand had bestowed on you. Neither shall your desires be foreslowed; for with your Parents leave, my dear Doriclea, within few days shall our speed be winged homeward, to consummate that which you and my Sister have so long wished, and from which my aged Father hath not much declined.  
Delay, answered the Page, breeds danger; and marriages are the merriest, when they come together. Pretty Wag, replied Philocles, but where must we find a Bride? The least fear of a thousand, answered the Page; no doubt, but if my Master will find a Bridegroom, and you prove as good as your word, the Page shall find one to make a Bride. Wherewith, Valeria, who was supposed to be Euphilus Page, discovered herself to be Philocles Sister: with this excuse, how it was fancy, with a fear (for so report told her) of a foreign Intruder: both which, put upon her that disguise, and pressed her to that adventure: and no immodesty (though too enlarged a love may wear that Livery) that first put that habit upon her. A general joy was conceived upon this discovery. For Philocles could not rejoice so much at the sight of his Sister, as his Sister did in the enjoyment of her Brother: nor Doriclea in this mutual joy of them both, more than amazed Euphilus in this strange Metamorphosis of his Page to his Lover. The relation whereof cheered not a little the old Couple, Androgeus and Euriclea: who provided a new Festival for this unexpected Nuptial. For, with Phllocles consent, to their incomparable content, was ●oyall Euphilus married to his loving Sister; being long before privately affianced to her. This occasional Solemnity, made a second days private Jubilee in the whole family.  
For the night, we leave it to the free and lawful embraces of these affectionate Lovers: w● admit no light lines to disclose the freedom of Love's Laws. If Phidias had a Curtain for his Picture; well might these livelylovely features shroud their delights from the too inquisitive eye of a wanton censure.   

CHAP. XXXII.  
The occasion of this private Solemnisation: and how Mellida, by advice of her Mistress Doriclea, assuming her name and habit, writ to Mardanes, how she preferred him in the choice of affection before any other; acquainting him how in a private disguise to prevent danger and her Parent's displeasure, she would meet him, when and where in a lawful Nuptial way, he might enjoy her.  
YOu may imagine there was some occasion of the privacy of this Solemnisation: and you shall hear the cause which induced it.  
Happy Doriclea (for now he's she attained the height of her desires) was not altogether forgetful of poor Mell●da's distress, in the seazure of her own happiness Something must be done, or this foolish-en●mour'd Girl is quite undone. For you may be confident, Mellida could not play well the Bridemaid, but she must sigh how to be made a Bride. Tears are too sweet a food for afflction. And none ever felt it in an higher degree than she did; who, rather than she would be deprived of that aged Object of her grounded love, could choose with all her heart to surcease to live. But live she must, and enjoy her love, or her faithful Mistress must fail in her design. Which the better to prepare Doriclea now possessed of what she affected most, becomes stronger in her fancy, in regard her conceit was not now to work for herself; for that love-task was done, but for her perplexed Maid who desired nothing more than to enjoy what her Mistress had done. And protraction is a forture to affection. Her aim is to expedite her Maids desire: left too much thought of love should weaken the effects of love. The Plot then must be thus carried; and thrice happy M●llida, if not miscarried: for if it prosper, Mardanes must enjoy Mellida & Mellida those embraces (aged God wot) but to her more pleasing than the copletest Lover. For never was Woman taken more with the affection of such a feature: nor ever favoured any object more, that presented less favour. But Lovers are blind, or a blind God could not so easily wound them. Mount then must our amorous Mellida to the height of her affections, and in them to an unexpected growth of fortunes by her Mistress means, which she accommodates thus.  
Mellida, by the advice of her Mistress Doriclea, by whom she must be directed, or all her aims are distracted, assuming her name and habit writes to her endeared Mardanes, whom never before beauty looked upon, much less doted on; and his reverend age, which now grew hottest in love, when he grew coldest in blood, she thus encounters.  
Mellidas Letter to Mardanes.  
SIr, Lines cannot blush; so ●s, modesty admits ● freedom to our Pen, which would be taxed immodesty, being delivered by the tongue. I appeal to yourself, (for your privatest thoughts cannot be less than conscious of my love) if I have not preferred you in the choice of affection before any other: closing with your desires in all things that might not touch mine honour. But it is the Evening crow●es the Day confirm then what you have professed; those vows wherein I stand engaged, shall not be neglected. Should I tell you as much as I write to you, I could not choose but blush; I love you; and if you lose no time, may live with you. But Parents I have, and their command must be obeyed; nor do I find them so well affected towards our loves, what soever they formerly professed. Sir, I must freely tell you, lose no opportunity if you hold me an Object worthy of your fancy. To prevent then prying eyes (affections dangerous spies) let me acquaint you (nor is it to be conceited immodesty but strength of fancy that thus directs me) how in a private disguise to prevent danger and my Parent's displeasure (whose constant aim is to bestow me upon an other) I shall meet you when and where you please in a lawful Nuptial way, to accomplish both our desires, and divert those approaching fears which surprise me, till you may with all freedom enjoy me, by accounting me your own: which interest I shall preserve with an unstained fame. Nor do I hold any place both for safety and conveniency more proper than that Elm grove adjoining to Solinus Cell. If you approve of this Plot, or desire to enjoy Doriclea's love, or to prevent a Corrival in your love, or to crown both our desires in our happy fruition of the effects of love, bring one along with you, who may consu●●mate that Rite, which remains in violate till death dissolve it.  
yours or not her own, Doriclea.  
When Mellida had writ this Letter to her affectionate Lover, by the direction of her Mistress; whose pleasure it was that her own marriage the day before should be privately solemnised, that it might not be discovered to Mardanes; she addressed herself in this manner to her Mistress.  
Alas Mistress! But should Mardanes now hear ●it her of your marriage, or take my Mask off to kiss me before he he's married me; what would become of me? And you know, lip-labour cannot want, where true love h'as once warmed the heart.  
Doubt not Wench, said Dor●clea; for my marriage, it was so privately carried, as excepting our own Family none knows of it: which privacy was only intended for thy preferment. But if thou hast no power over thyself, but thou must unmask before the watchword be given, I cannot remedy that.  
Nay, Mistress, replied Mellida, I would do any thing so I might enjoy him; but I fear much I cannot hold when I see him, but I must have an hearty desire to take a taste of him.  
Thy virgin-modesty, answered her Mistress, may dispense with that; so thy indiscreet fancy bring thee not to a discovery. Solinus I have prepared to second thee; whose approved zeal h'as infinitely engaged me to him. Only then, let me advise thee, be wise in this carriage of thy love: lef● thy own folly bring thee to a loss in the pursuit of him whom thou dost love. I am persuaded, the Plot will take, if it be not spoiled by thy own mistake.  
Thus encouraged Doriclea her perplexed Mellida; directing her in every passage what to do: and advertising her withal, that if she observed but two particulars, she could not possibly err in this Project: Silence, and concealing of her countenance. And this Mellida promiseth to observe: and that she will not kiss him till she he's married him: nor unmask, till the Mask be done; meaning, till the marriage be finished: unless, Mistress, said she, too much love make me forget, and then I am sure my fame, fancy and fortunes, shall far the worse for it.  
Thus is a way prepared for Mellida's happiness, as she accounts it: nor is she ●lower in her care to have this Letter delivered, than she is in her desire to have her affectionate wishes crowned. A Messenger then, and such an one whose fidelity promiseth secrecy, is provided: while every hour seems a year till she hear such an answer, as may breathe upon her hopes; by affording her that content which she cannot enjoy in a single state.  
Forestall our History we must not; the issue of this Plot shall disclose itself in this our ensuing and closing discourse: which, as Comic conclusions suit best with love, where virtue draws the line, makes it the least of our meaning to set in a Cloud, but to clear all preceding storms with a cheerful calm.   

CHAP. XXXIII.  
The Plot holds; Mardanes rejoices infinitely at his unexpected happiness; thanks his Spurcina for her well-spelled practice; and infeoffs his unknown B●ide (though much against his will) in his riches.  
ZEalous was S●linus of the success of this Device. Neither was he less serious in effecting, than Doriclea was in contriving, nor Mellida, whom it concerned most, in expecting. Suppose now Mardanes to have received this Love-letter: which his four eyes are not content with once reading, nor revising, but examines every love-line. Every accent must be crowned with a blessing: every period with a graceful acceptance. Infinitely rejoices he at his unexpected happiness, that he should come to enjoy such a Mistress, whom both youth and fortunes suited for their Bride, but fell short of their hope. Many thanks he gives his Spurcina for her well-spelled practice; and commends his own pate for attempting such an enterprise.  
He holds it not fitting to spin out any needless time for effecting his Doriclea's desires. He finds too much passion in her lines, to counterfeit with the disposition of her heart. But there is nothing that makes delay seem more hateful to him, nor fuller of danger; then that some may become competitors in his love; and by her Parent's choice, leave him in the lurch. This makes him stir his stumps, and to answer her Letter with such speedy cheerfulness, as Mellida can expect no less than all success to her desires, and to her long-languishing hopes assured happiness. Neither was there any thing which wrought more pleasingly upon his deluded thoughts, than that witty device (as he conceived it) of suiting herself in a disguise to prevent her Parents aims: which confirmed the love she professed, and engaged him to requite her love in that which he esteemed best. And that was his substance; wherein, like a freehearted Bridegroom, he resolves so amply to infeaffe her; as her large Dower might appear a manifest argument of the love he bore her. But indeed this bounty of his proceeded rather from S●linus advice then his own disposition: who cunningly told him, that the only way to win her Parent's acceptance after the private consummation of their marriage, was to invest her in all his estate before their marriage. Which would not only be a means to reconcile them, but highly to enlarge their bounty towards him. Nothing could be moved, whereto Mardanes he's not assented. Neither is it easy to believe how he begins to burnish his crazy carcase afresh. His crisping and frizling Irons must be used; his bald head with a ru●ling Periwig furnished; a Pomander to sweeten his earthy savour prepared; an Orange stuck with Cloves to restore that breath which was wholly mortified. And to publish to the world, that he retains still some colour of love, he displays his light fancy in the lightest colours of love's livery. But so improperly suited, as his antic habit proclaims him an unqualified Gallant. Infinitely stands he devoted to his Glass; and yet me thinks he should not love it for presenting him a face so near him, which might rather affright him then like him, if he were not too much besotted on it, for his sake that owes it. For so strongly had those amorous lines wrought on his conceit, as he verily thought there was something in him which deserved more love, then either his age could promise, or the decays of nature perform. Suppose him them with as much speed as his Snail-like pace may afford him, addressing his course towards the place where his Doriclea is to meet him, to consummate those Rites which incomparably transport him. And meet him she will, but not as a Bride, but a Maid to his Bride: for they have changed their habits, to make the Plot pass for currant: that the Mistress in this mysterious disguise might pass for her Maid, the Maid for her Mistress. For howsoever, Doriclea was sometimes resolved to recommend the whole carriage of this Plot to Solinus, who had expressed many faithful offices betwixt herself and her dearest Philocles; yet being jealous how Mellida would demean herself in the presence of her Mardanes, she desired to become an Agent in the project; which no question was better managed by her presence, than it had been without her assistance.  
Love-aged Mardanes omits no time, nor neglects no mean, but provides a Man to accomplish that Rite which so equally complyes with both their desires. Who, as they entered the Elme-grove neighbouring to Solinus Cell; they might see two Gentlewomen masked, with one ushering them of grave and reverend aspect. Whom, upon their approach Mardanes saluted; but no conference was admitted, lest the Plot might be discovered▪ Howsoever, great desire had poore-●namour'd Mellida to bestow a more familiar curtsy on her ancient Bridegroom, but he must not as yet be admitted that honour, for her Mask without discovery could entertain no lip-labour.  
To this private Solemnity they go, wherein Solinus supplied the place of a Father to Mellida; who was with such observance attended by Doriclea, as no Maid could be more officious. The Rite thus solemnised, and Mardanes seized of what (as he conceived) he most affected, and Mellida of what she before all the World preferred; as the Bridegroom and Bride were lovingly going hand in hand together. Mardanes might perceive this Inscription newly endorsed on the rind of an aged Elm, as they were to go forth at the West end of the Grove.  
Love is a witty thing, and can devise  
A thousand tricks to blind a thousand eyes.  
He loves and weds, but weds not where he loves;  
She loves and weds, and weds whom she approves.  
Many before this time have oft assayed  
The Maid forth ' Mistress, M●● for the Maid.  
If you would know the issue of their love,  
Inquire of Cupid's Mask in 
a Properly, styled, Pla●ti●●● Elysian Grove, or Erycina's Pa phian La●●●.  Venus' Grove.  
A Match well made, she poor, and he is rich,  
But weded, she's rich, he poor,— gramercy Witch.  
This was engraven the very morning before by Solinus; the perusal whereof did not a little trouble Mardanes. But no sooner was his Mellida unmasked, than he needed no Oedipus to expound this Riddle. Then but too late, he finds himself deluded: but never too late, said Doriclea, to be contented: vert●e must be made of a necessity; and a poor virtuous Maid may well deserve your fancy. Not altogether so poor, replied Solinus; for if she be poor, what will become of Mardanes: who he's enfeoffed her in all his estate, and invested her in all the means he he's in the world? Nay, said Mellida, he he's endowed me with the personal estate of himself, which I prefer before all the world. And would you have more, answered Doriclea? Trust me, Mardanes, you shall find more true love in the Maid, than ever you could have found in her Mistress. The one could give you an hand, but no heart: whereas the other gives you both hand and heart. The one was engaged; the other free, and to your love devoted. The one might live with you, but never love you; the other can both love you, and live with you. Never then in my opinion did any Witch a better part, then in bestowing an old fortune on a young heart. A spirit that can dispose it, and not scatter it: as your care was to provide and gather it. The Bridegroom stood as mute as a Fish all this time: till at last the Brazenhead spoke, saying; What must be, must be. But he vowed i● ever it were his fortune again to match, he would never buy a Pig in a poak, nor wed a Wench in a Mask. But those that were there, thought he might save that labour, for by course of Nature he had married his executor.  
After they had accompanied them home; broke the Bridecake, and brought the unwieldy Bridegroom to his bed; wishing the Bride good rest (being all she could possibly expect) and advising her to take a good life of that she had, to keep an hank of that she held, and to supply the want of youth with the wealth of age; they departed thence; while Doriclea with many thanks commended Solinus to his Cell; near which her dearest Philocles with his constant Euphilus purposely retired to bring her home: who upon relation of these unexpected news to her Parents and Family, rejoiced highly.  
Within some few Months, after an heavy leave and hearty blessing, these two married Couples returned into their Country; where they were received with great joy by the Gentry, who admired much the relation of their amity: and whose constancy to this day, retains testimonies of their living memory.  
To close then our History, whose ground-colour is truth, and consequently deserves to be entertained with more trust: as virtue plays her Master-prize in every noble enterprise; so by her Princely presence and timely attendance, these lived together lovingly, loved neighbourly, and rejoiced mutually: which happy Period is wished to all faithful Lovers by the Compiler of this History.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
FINIS.    

Courteous Reader, let it be an argument of thy Candour, to do the Author so much favour, to correct these Errors escaped in some Copies.  
Page 128 line 8. for fierce, read fierce. p. 139 1. 5. for faith, r. fate. ib. 1. 6. for fate, r. faith. p. ib. 1▪ 28. for ecstasied, r. extased.