MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK.
PART I.

HENRY of Lancaſter, King of England, had reign'd peaceably near thirty years, when Richard Duke of York, whoſe Anceſtors were once in full Poſ⯑ſeſſion of that Crown, reſolv'd to lay hold of that favourable Juncture which then offer'd it ſelf, to aſſert and maintain his Right, in conjunction with Edward Earl of Marche, his Son, and Richard Ne⯑ville, Earl of Warwick, his moſt intimate Friend. Theſe having raiſed a good number of Troops, and back'd by a ſtrong Party, made War upon King Henry. It ſeem'd as if Fortune had pitch'd upon the Kingdom of England, to make it the Theater of its capricious Chance: After ſeveral Battles fought with different ſucceſs, the Duke of York being upon the point of giving another to his Rival, Andrew Tralop, an ancient brave Officer, in whom he much confided, unexpectedly went over [2] with all his Forces to the King; ſo that ſeeing him⯑ſelf thus weakned, he had no other way left than to retire as faſt as he could. The Earls of la Marche and Warwick left him at that Conjuncture, the better to repair this ſudden Diſappoint⯑ment, and having rais'd freſh Troops, march'd towards London, where having all this while maintain'd a ſecret Correſpondence, they were ad⯑mitted into that City, and the King oblig'd to ſeek for ſhelter in the Tower. Margarete of Anjou his Queen, a Lady of an undaunted Courage, ha⯑ving, notwithſtanding this, found means to raiſe and put the King and her ſelf at the Head of a formidable Army, they ſought for nothing more than to come to an Engagement: The two Earls being no leſs eager for fighting, they came to a Bat⯑tle near Northampton; Fortune declar'd for the Earls, and the unfortunate King Henry was taken Priſo⯑ner.

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

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

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

It is eaſie to be gueſs'd at, with what Demon⯑ſtrations of Joy this Victorious Prince was receiv'd at London; Among the reſt of his faithful Servants was General Talbot Earl of S [...]op; and this young [4] Monarch, to reward his Services, and to ſhew his Acknowledgment to all the World, beſtow'd not only vaſt Riches upon him, but alſo honour'd him with his Confidence, which made that General to be highly careſs'd at Court.

The Earl of Devonſhire, having at that time ſome Buſineſs of great Moment to tranſact at Court, ſought all poſſible Means of gaining General Talbot to his Intereſt, which perhaps he would not have encompaſs'd at a very eaſie rate, he being a Man of a blunt Converſation, who aim'd at no⯑thing more, than to have the Reputation of a faithful Servant to his King, and of a good Soldier: But happening one Day to divert himſelf with walking in a Garden near Hampton-Court, and meeting accidentally with the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire, he was ſurpriz'd, and quite dazled with her Beauty and Charms. As the Earl of Angleſey her Father, had kept her very retir'd at his own Houſe ever ſince ſhe had been married, for fear this growing young Beauty ſhould produce ſome ſiniſter Effects at Court; ſo nothing but an Accident could have given an Opportunity to the General of ſee⯑ing her.

The General's Mind equally divided betwixt Love and Reſpect, would not permit him to ac⯑coſt her; ſo he contented himſelf with walking up and down in a certain Walk, from whence he could ſee her. Thus quite poſſeſs'd with the Idea of this Charming Lady, he returns to London, and ſo to Court. The King was then playing at Cards with ſeveral Ladies, attended by a great Number of Courtiers: But the Earl of Warwick was got at ſome Diſtance from the reſt, in order to enter a certain Memorandum of Conſequence to himſelf, in his Table Book. I told you before, that the Earl of Warwick's Name was Richard de Neville; but I did not tell you, that being bred [5] up along with the King, this Prince lov'd him be⯑yond any of all his Favourites; and in effect, he had greater Obligations to him, than to any other of all his Friends. He was the Son of Richard de Neville Earl of Salisbury, Lord Chancellor of Eng⯑land, and Alice the only Daughter of Thomas Mon⯑tague, Earl of Salisbury. Tho' but young at that time, he was already a Widower, his deceaſed Lady being Anne, Siſter to the Duke of Warwick. The Earl, whoſe Hiſtory I am a going to give you, was a Perſon ſo far ſurpaſſing in his Perſonal Me⯑rits, Courage and Generoſity, all others at Court, that he acquir'd the Sirname of the Great. Never liv'd a Man in greater Affluence and Splendor, nor ever did any one things with a better Grace than he; He being ſo far from endeavouring to heap up Riches, or to husband his Eſtate, that he look'd upon Wealth as a thing not worth his Care: Notwithſtanding this Indifferency he was the Richeſt Lord in the Kingdom. He had a Genius ſo far predominant above the common Rank of Men, that even thoſe who had a Preju⯑dice againſt him, and were ready at all Turns either to Contradict, or at leaſt not to Credit him, no ſooner heard him ſpeak, but like Inchant⯑ed Men, were compell'd to agree to what he pro⯑pos'd. He was both beautiful and finely ſhap'd, even to a Miracle; His Magnificence and Gallan⯑try, which was natural to him, made him both Lovely and Dangerous. The King loving him both by Inclination and Gratitude, had made him not only his Confident, but alſo beſtow'd the Greateſt Places in the Kingdom upon him. It may juſtly be ſaid of him, That nothing could have bin above him, had he bin capable of apply⯑ing his whole Mind to Buſineſs: But his Inclina⯑tions for Love, and a certain Notion he had fram'd to himſelf, That even the higheſt Dignities [6] are purchas'd at too dear a Rate, when upon that account we are forced to ſacrifice the Pleaſures of our Life, made him ſometimes ſtop in that Car⯑reer wherein otherwiſe he might have carried e⯑very thing before him at Pleaſure.

This Character, upon which I have perhaps en⯑larg'd a little too much, has inſenſibly drawn me away from General Talbot. He, after having look'd a little while upon the Gameſters, eſpy⯑ing the Earl, drew nearer and told him, You are too Gallant a Perſon, for one to ſuppoſe you ſhould write any thing elſe, but ſome Verſes or other to your Miſtreſs; And how happy are you, My Lord, to be able to make them! The Earl looking upon him, ſaid Smiling; What! Is this General Talbot? Has he got ſome Reliſh in the tender Effects produced by Poetry? He made no anſwer, but lifting up his Eyes towards Heaven, obſerv'd in the Earls Coun⯑tenance all the marks of that Ironical and Malici⯑ous Air, which he was blam'd for by ſome. Alas! cry'd the General, I intended to make you my Confident; but you are not indulgent enough. The Word Con⯑fident, rais'd in the Earl an extream Deſire of be⯑ing admitted into the Secret, ſince by his Sighs and other paſſionate Motions, he was ſenſible there was a Love Intreague in the caſe, and he cou'd not but be highly pleaſed to ſee ſuch a Sa⯑vage Creature, to be taken in the Snare of a Young Beauty. Don't be diſmay'd, ſaid he, at my Jocular way, I can be ſerious upon Occaſion; I gueſs in part at your Thoughts; You are in Love, and you may aſſure your ſelf, you ſhall find in me the only Man in the World, who is capable of giving you the beſt Advice. 'Tis impoſſible, reply'd the Ge⯑neral, I ſhould be in Love in ſo ſmall a time; 'tis not above three Hours ſince I ſaw, and that for the firſt time, the Perſon that makes me thus ſigh; but my Lord, continued he, Oh! How Beautiful is ſhe! [7] She has a noble Air, without Affectation; there was ne⯑ver a better Shape ſeen than Hers; her Complexion, the Colour of her Hair, her Features, to be ſhort, every thing is charming in Her. I went to Hampton-Court, to pay a Viſit to the Duke of Norfolk who has bin ill for ſome days; as I was taking a walk in a Garden, I ſaw the Earl of Devonſhire and his Lady doing the ſame; he having deſired me to ſerve him in a Bu⯑ſineſs of his, againſt one of my Friends, I did all I cou'd to avoid meeting him, as ſoon as I got ſight of them, and therefore turn'd off into a By-walk where I thought I was ſecure from being ſeen; but alas! within a few Minutes, I found him and the Counteſs ſit⯑ting upon a Seat of Green Turfs; for it being then very hot, ſhe was ſomewhat tired with walking: The Colour of her Cheeks reſembled two white Roſes mix'd with an Incornation; her Eyes carry'd along with them ſo bright a Luſtre, that I never beheld any thing like it in all my Life; and to be ſhort, my Lord, muſt I tell you over and over again, that ſhe appear'd to me a moſt raviſhing Beauty. You ſhall tell it me, reply'd the Earl, as of⯑ten as you think fit for your own Satisfaction; I am extreemly pleas'd to ſee you ſo Paſſionate for a Handſom Young Lady, and fancy I ſhall ſee you before long work at your Needle, as Hercules did with Omphalis. Alas! ſaid he, I am at a great Diſtance to ſee her as my Om⯑phalis; you will ſee an unfortunate Lover, who is quite a Novice in the very Rudiments of that Art wherein you excel. Don't talk of Ignorance, anſwer'd the Earl, 'tis enough for a Man to Love, to render him quickly capable of attaining to every thing required in Love; and will you make me believe, that you were never touch'd with any other Beauty before? No, ſaid he, I knew not what Love was, I will declare it to you by all the moſt direful Imprecations that can be. He was actually a going to call Heaven and Earth to Witneſs, when the Earl interrupting him, ſaid, I believe you, my Lord, I believe you; I am con⯑vinc'd [8] you never was in Love before: But pray let me know wherein I can ſerve you. You can, ſaid he, in⯑ſtruct me in what I muſt do to be belov'd; becauſe you underſtand it better then any other Man in the World. To do this, I ſhould be acquainted with the Counteſs of Devonſhire, reply'd the Earl, I ſhould converſe with her, and be admitted into her ſecret Thoughts, if I ſhould ſerve you for a Guide; whereas now you put me into a Foreign Country, where I am igno⯑rant both of the Language and Manners of the Peo⯑ple; ſo that as the Caſe ſtands, I can ſcarce adviſe you to any thing but what muſt create new troubles to you.

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

They were ſo intent upon the matter, that they did not perceive the King had left off playing, who approaching nearer, and over-hearing the laſt Words; ask'd them, What it was the Gene⯑ral ought to be aſham'd of? The Earl was a going to divert the King with telling the whole Story, but that the General tipping the wink upon him to conceal it, he told the King, That he was blaming [9] the General on account of his Indifferency, and that he had made him an Offer, to exchange with him ſome part of his Senſibility, for the General's Inſenſibility. The King reply'd with a ſmile, He was oblig'd to the Earl, ſince he lov'd the General ſo well, as to be glad to ſee him engag'd in ſome Love Amuſements.

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

She was then in a Grotto at the further End of her Garden, and the Seaſon being very hot; He found her reſting upon a Seat of Green Turfs, in a Silk Night Gown of Roſe Colour, with Silver Flowers; ſhe appear'd very negligent and penſive: The Counteſs of Angleſey her Mother ſitting near her upon the ſame Seat. Notwithſtand⯑ing the Earl was ſufficiently prepared for ſuch an Interview by the Praiſes and Tranſports of General Talbot: This did not hinder him for reliſhing that Exceſs of Pleaſure, which is com⯑monly occaſion'd by a Surprize of this nature: His Eyes and Heart both agreeing in this point, That nothing in the World was Comparable for Beauty to Madam Devonſhire; And in ſpite of all his Na⯑tural Boldneſs, for which the Earl was reprehend⯑ed by ſome, and all his Contrivance to give a Spe⯑cious [10] Pretence for this Viſit, he ſtood ſo amazed, that, without being able to utter one Word, he did nothing but make his Bows to the Ladies, conſidering all this while what to ſay, without being able to find out where to begin.

Another thing that puzled him, was to find out a Place were to ſeat himſelf: The Counteſs of Angleſey would have engag'd him to ſit down next to her; but judging he ſhould not there have a full Sight of her fair Daughter, he ſet himſelf down upon a large Marble kind of Baſon, which ſerved for a Receiver of Water from another Veſſel placed above it; here having taken his Seat, without reflecting upon what might happen, he began to enter upon Compliments, or to ſpeak truly, upon ſuch extravagant bombaſt ſtuff, that the Ladies did not know what to make of it: However he went on in the ſame road, till on a ſudden finding himſelf cold and wet almoſt all over, he ſtood altogether ſurpriz'd at this new Adventure. You muſt know, that the Maſter of the Water-works ſeeing him under the Grotto, had made all the haſte he cou'd to make the Waters play; which falling from the uppermoſt Veſſel in⯑to that whereon he ſat, had wetted him to the ve⯑ry Skin; his Surprize was ſuch as to render him incapable of uttering one Word more, and the Counteſs of Devonſhire, who not only look'd up⯑on him, but alſo hearkned to his Diſcourſe with a great deal of Attention, finding him Speechleſs, thought no otherwiſe than that he had bin ve⯑ry ill: Give me leave, ſaid ſhe, my Lord, to ask how you do? He was a going to tell her, he did ve⯑ry badly, which in effect was no more than the real Truth; but was ſo much ſtartled at the Queſti⯑on, that he knew not what anſwer to return. Doubtleſs, ſaid he to himſelf, ſhe is ſenſible of what has happened; but if I tell her I am wet to the Skin [11] ſhe will laugh at me; and if I remain ſitting in this curſed place, I ſhall be worſe ridiculed by and by. Whilſt he was thus arguing with himſelf, he ſpoke not one word; ſo that the Counteſs of Angleſey ima⯑gining no otherwiſe, than that he had actually loſt the uſe of his Tongue, aroſe from her Seat and threw ſome water in his Face; crying, My Lord, Do you hear me? Yes Madam, reply'd he, burſting out a laughing at their Fancy, I both un⯑derſtand and ſee you very well, and if I had bin ready to fall into a Swoon, your Spring would have prevented it; and ſo he aroſe all wet from head to foot backwards. The young Counteſs could not for bear burſting out into a loud laughter, in ſpite of all the grave looks of her Mother; and this Gayety of hers, ha⯑ing diſperſed all the Earl's Splenetick Fancies, and revived in him his natural Vivacity, he entertain'd them with that Sprightlineſs of Wit they never had met with before in any other in all their Lives.

The Condition he ſaw himſelf in, not permit⯑ting him to ſtay with them as long as he cou'd have wiſh'd, and remembring at the ſame time, that the Counteſſes Husband was not to come home till after the next Day, he only told them part of his pretended Errand, deſiring Leave at the ſame time to refer the reſt to another Viſit. The Counteſs was willing enough not to refuſe ſo indifferent a Favour to a Perſon of his Rank, nevertheleſs ſhe look'd upon her Mother before ſhe would return an Anſwer, and the Earl ſoon perceived that ſhe ſtaid for her Permiſſion; the Counteſs of Angleſey told him, They would look upon it as an Honour, and they were too much concern'd at the accident that had beflan him, not to be deſirous to be forthwith inform'd of its Conſequences: I am afraid, my Lord, ſaid the Counteſs of Devonſhire, you have taken Cold, your Bath was not well managed. He took Leave of the Ladies, and returning to the [12] place where he had left his Chariot, his Peo⯑ple were ſurprized to ſee him ſo wet, not being able to gueſs at the reaſon of it.

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

His whole mind being inſenſibly taken up with theſe Conſiderations, word was brought him that the King was ariſing from Supper, ſo that with⯑out more ado, he got up and went to wait on him; he no ſooner ſaw him, but ordred him to follow him in his Cloſet, where he made him read aloud certain Letters he had lately receiv'd from France; whilſt he was reading, he ask'd, becauſe he ſeem'd to be bloated and much out of order, Whether he had bin Bathing himſelf? The Earl was not a little ſurpriz'd at this queſtion; but not imagining the King could know any thing of what had happened in the Grotto, told him, That it being a Cold Evening, he had taken Cold. The King ſmiled with a malicious Air, and the Earl, being much diſcompoſed, bluſh'd; The King who [13] obſerv'd it laugh'd out-right, and the Earls Co⯑lour came more and more; the King much pleas'd thereat, ‘'Do you know, ſaid he, that the Earl of Devonſhire, has begg'd of me, to forbid you to Viſit at his Houſe; He is not a little jealous ſince you have taken the liberty of Bathing your ſelf before his Lady. Ah! Sir, cry'd he, if you are acquainted with my Adventure, they have given you information of a thing of very ſlender Conſequence. How, reply'd the King, Do you think I am not very well pleas'd, to know which way you diſpoſe of your ſelf? In good earneſt, my Lord, added he after a few Minutes Si⯑lence, What is it you propoſe by viſiting this fair Lady? Have you any Buſineſs with Her Lord? Yes, Sir, reply'd the Earl, he was abroad a hunt⯑ing, and I had ſcarce one Moments Converſation with her. You made your Addreſſes in a ve⯑ry Confuſed Speech, ſaid the King, you were not ſenſible of what you ſaid.'’ The Earl ima⯑gining, that either the young Counteſs or her Mother, had diverted themſelves at his Coſt, found himſelf ſo touch'd thereat, that he reply'd, ‘'Theſe Ladies were not ſurprizing enough, to put me out of Order as your Majeſty imagines; I find nothing uncommon in their Perſons. I would not have you talk thus for your own Reputations ſake, continued the King, ſince it will be much better your diſorderly Addreſſes ſhould be thought the Effect of a Surprize, than of the Confuſion of your Mind.'’

Being touch'd to the quick at theſe words, he was meditating how to revenge himſelf upon the Ladies, when the King continued, Is it poſſible you ſhould be in Love with Madam Devonſhire, and take amiſs her giving an account to her Husband of what paſs'd in his abſence? I don't part with my Heart, Sir, at ſo eaſie a rate, replied the Earl; If the [14] Counteſs were much more Lovely than ſhe is, I would firſt be very well acquainted with her, before I entred into ſuch an Engagement. The more you Know her, the more you will Love her, cry'd the King ſighing; Nature never framed any thing more compleat than her ſelf, She is one of her Miracles. Theſe Words were utter'd by the King with ſuch an air, as ſurpriz'd the Earl to that degree, that for want of Strength to ſupport himſelf, he lean'd againſt a Cabinet unperceiv'd by the King, who being quite taken up with his own Thoughts, took no No⯑tice of the Confuſion the Earl was in; and he reading in the King's Face every thing that then paſs'd in his mind, ſaid to himſelf, Is it poſſible that my Maſter ſhould be my Rival, and that he has bin ſo dextrous in concealing his Paſſion for the Counteſs, that I have diſcover'd nothing of it hitherto! Whilſt he was ruminating upon the odneſs of this Mira⯑cle (for it is no leſs than a Miracle, for a Sove⯑reign to Love without Noiſe) the King caſt his Eyes upon him, and with an air, which would have appear'd moſt Charming and full of Good⯑neſs in any one elſe but a Rival, told him, My Lord, you are very dear to me, I can't agree to your Deſtruction: But look upon your ſelf as loſt, if you fall in Love with the Counteſs; I muſt withdraw my Favours from you, and you will never obtain any from her: That haughty Heart of hers diſdains all Slaves below the Rank of Kings, and I believe ſhe would look with Scorn upon my own Brothers. Sir, reply'd he, I am ſenſible, as I ought to be, of that charitable Care your Majeſty is pleas'd to take to pre⯑ſerve me from ſuffering Shipwrack; but I ſincerely de⯑clare to you, that hitherto I have been in no danger: 'Tis poſſible that in time ſome Fatal hour or other might have conſtrain'd me to ſurrender my Heart to the Counteſs, in ſpite of all my Reaſon; againſt which, what I have underſtood from your Majeſty's own mouth, [15] will ſerve as a full counterpoiſe. I would not have you imagine, added the King, that I diſcloſe to you only half my Heart, I will give it you at full length, and confeſs my frailties.

I have nothing to ſacrifice, reply'd the Earl of Warwick, who by this time having had ſufficient Leiſure to recollect himſelf, and to conſider of what he was to anſwer, told him: Sir, were the Young Counteſs as Beautiful in my Eyes as ſhe appears to yours, I would certainly never think of her any more as long as I live, even if it ſhould coſt me my Life: But 'tis not I that am ſubject to this Fatality, 'tis General Talbot; 'tis true, Sir, he loves my Lady Devonſhire with ſo exceſſive a Paſſion, that whereever he finds you to ſtand in his way, he will not be able to out-live his Pain. I can't imagine what you tell me to be true, anſwer'd the King, Who has told you the General is in Love? He who never was ſo before in his Life, a Perſon the moſt cautious and indifferent of all Men living? 'Tis a Secret he entruſted to me one Day, when your Majeſty drew unexpectedly near us, ſaid the [26] Earl, and I intended to have given your Majeſty the Diverſion of underſtanding it at that time, but that the General making a ſign of keeping the Secret, I began to talk concerning his Indifferency, inſtead of his Paſſion.

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

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

This was a Lady of Quality, whoſe Family had bin Famous for being employ'd in the greateſt [27] Places of the Kingdom. In the Year 1173. Richard de Lucy, Lord Juſtice of England, was General of the King's Armies, during the Civil Wars; and ever ſince that time, this Family be⯑ing inſeparably united to the Houſe of York, they were often out of Favour; Upon the Acceſſion of Edward to the Throne, they ſignaliz'd themſelves in their Affection for his Service. This was the reaſon why all his Favourites, but eſpecially the Earl of Warwick, caſt their Eyes upon Mrs. Eliza⯑beth Lucy, to make her the King's Miſtreſs; which they did without much Difficulty. This young Monarch, as I told you before, was the moſt Gal⯑lant Prince of his Age, the beſt ſhap'd, the braveſt and moſt witty of all Men living. Elizabeth on the other hand, was conſidered as a Miracle of Beauty, nothing was comparable to her Shape, and her Wit alone was ſufficient to have ſet off her Charms, had they bin much inferior to hers: 'Tis true, ſhe had a great Share of Pride and Haughtineſs; She look'd upon it as her Due, to chooſe her Adorers out of the Royal Family, and that, without doing her a great piece of Injuſtice, they could not wear any other Fetters but hers. The King, not able to refuſe her his Heart, at firſt viſited her with much Circumſpection on account of her Reputation; but it was a hard matter, con⯑ſidering the Ambition of the Lady, and the Love of her Gallant, to conceal a Secret of this Na⯑ture for any conſiderable time; in ſhort, ſhe was for having it out. The King created her a Marchionneſs of Hereſord, which new Title, as it procured her a great Court, ſo it occaſion'd no leſs Envy in others. As now the King gave him⯑ſelf an entire Liberty of ſhewing his Gallantry and Paſſion to her, ſo it was ſoon divulged every where; and 'tis poſſible, that this manner of loving ſo publickly, took away the niceſt and ſweeteſt part of its Reliſh.

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

The Earl of Warwick having, by this young Monarch's laſt Diſcourſe to him, underſtood that one of my Lady Devonſhire's Women was not of a very difficult Acceſs, he judged he might engage her in his Intereſt, by giving her greater Preſents than the King had done, looking upon this as the [29] moſt neceſſary Point for his Repoſe, in hopes to interrupt the Correſpondence by Letters, be⯑twixt his Maſter and the Counteſs, and in lieu thereof, to ſettle his own with her. He took alſo a full Reſolution not to mention one Word to the General of what he knew, for Fear he ſhould re⯑ſign every thing to the King's Paſſion, a piece of Generoſity he look'd upon as not very ſuitable to his preſent Deſign. He went early to wait on the King, and ſpent the reſt of the Day in the Apartment of the Marchioneſs of Hereford; but could not meet with an Opportunity to tell her, ſhe had a moſt dangerous Rival, as it was abſo⯑lutely neceſſary, to ſet her to work, to prevent the King's engaging any further in this new Paſſion, and being uncertain when he might have a favour⯑able time to entertain her, he ventur'd to write to her theſe Lines.

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

As for the Earl of Warwick, he had had ſo little Reſt, that, being ſeized with a violent Pain in the Head, he was not able to riſe; and therefore gave Orders that he would ſee no Body. Soon after, in comes the General Talbot, and his Servants belie⯑ving that a Perſon of his Character was excepted from their Maſters Orders, they let him go in. The General appear'd to be beyond his Wits at the Earl's Indiſpoſition, which perhaps at another Juncture he would not have bin; but now look'd upon him as his faithful Guide, who was to con⯑duct him through a Country where he, as yet, was unacquainted with the Roads. Since that time I ſaw you laſt, my Lord, ſaid he, I have met with a world of Adventures, and you will be perhaps ſur⯑pris'd as well as my ſelf, how dextrouſly I got over them: I never thought Love cou'd have made me [31] ſo Cunning and Deſigning, and yet you will be o⯑blig'd to own, that it has. Go on, my Lord, as long as you think fit, ſaid the Earl, I can much better hear than anſwer you.

As I was laſt Night making my Court to the King, ſaid the General, I found him buſy in look⯑ing upon ſome Pictures painted upon Glaſs: He call'd me as ſoon as he ſaw me; Have you any Skill, ſaid he, in this kind of Workmanſhip? I drew nearer and told him, that the Light of the Candles was not very proper to make one ſee the true Perfections or Defects of the Painting; Theſe are only Copies, reply'd the King, ſo there can be no great Loſs in them; but among all the reſt, I have a peculiar Fancy for this, ſaid he, ſhewing me the Picture of my Lady Devonſhire: The Seller knows not whoſe it is, without he goes to the Italian Painter to enquire, for whom he ſells them. I have too lively an Idea of that lovely Perſon, continued the General, not to know the Picture, which caſt me into ſuch a Confuſion, that I could ſcarce recover my ſelf; the King's Curioſity made me tremble, ſo I was very careful not to name her, and told him, doubtleſs it was ſome Foreigner. Why? reply'd the King, Would you not have her to be an Engliſh Lady? It ſeems to me, added I, that ſhe being ſo exceeding handſome, ſhe muſt have appear'd ſomewhere or other. I aſſure you, continued he, I have ſome confuſed Remembrance to have ſeen her ſomewhere or other. Perhaps in France or Holland, ſaid I; but for the moſt part, Picture-drawers draw their Pictures according to their own Fancies, ſuch as bare ſome Reſem⯑blance to every Body. The King made no An⯑ſwer, but fixing his Eyes upon the Picture, ſeem'd to be in a deep ſtudy, and ſo was I. How unfortunate am I! (ſaid I) if I ſhould have [32] ſuch a Rival! A King ſo lovely in his Perſon, is more likely to be accepted of than I; Is it poſſible he ſhould ſo ſoon leave his Miſtreſs!

The Earl of Warwick did within himſelf admire the Oddneſs of this Adventure, how General Talbot ſhould juſt come to the King, when this Pourtraiture of the Counteſs of Devonſhire was brought to him. He could not immediately ſatis⯑fy himſelf, what made the King pretend he did not know her; ſince ſome of thoſe that attend⯑ed his Perſon at Windſor, knew he had bin treated with a Collation at her Houſe. But he concluded at laſt, that the General knowing no⯑thing of that Matter, the King did it to be ſatiſ⯑fy'd concerning what he had told him of that General's Paſſion. Whilſt he was ruminating up⯑on all theſe Matters, the General being amazed to ſee him ſo ſurprized, What is the matter my Lord, ſaid he, Won't you ſpeak to me? I told you before, reply'd the Earl, I was not fit for Company. I am ſatisfy'd, added the General, provided you will tell me only, what makes you to be ſo much ſurprized at what I tell you? The reaſon is, reply'd the Earl, (having recover'd himſelf a little) becauſe it ſeems very odd to me, how any one cou'd offer the Picture of the Counteſs to ſale, ſince, conſidering how narrow⯑ly ſhe is obſerv'd, I moſt queſtion whether they would ſuffer her Picture to be drawn. Be that as it will, anſwer'd he, the King bought the Pour⯑traiture, and charg'd me to carry it into his little Cloſet, where he intended to keep it, like a Jewel of great Value: Had he taken the leaſt notice of my Countenance, he might eaſily have diſcover'd the Diſorder I was in. As I heard him give his orders to bring the Limner who had made that Piece to him, I did not queſtion, but that he intended to enquire after the Name [33] of this Fair Lady. There needed no more to make me riſe early in the Morning; I went to the Picture-drawer, and having gain'd him into my In⯑tereſt by a very large Preſent (and bought the Ori⯑ginal, whereof the King has only the Copy) to tell his Majeſty, That this Piece was drawn for the Fair Roſamond, the Daughter of the Earl of Clifford, the Famous Miſtreſs of King Henry II. of England; and that, tho' the Drapery was ſome⯑what too Modern for thoſe Times, he ſhould tell him, He thought fit to dreſs her according to the Mode, that it might ſell the better. To be ſhort, by the help of my Inſtructions, he an⯑ſwer'd all the young Monarch's Queſtions to a Miracle, whereof I was a Witneſs, with an In⯑tention to help him out upon occaſion. The King would tell me ſeveral times, Truly Roſamond was a lovely Lady, I don't wonder that King Henry would never forgive his Wife the Murder of ſo Charming a Creature. Queen Eleonore, reply'd I, look'd upon her with a Jealous Eye; Yes, ſaid the King, But as for my ſelf I admire her; ſee what Difference there is betwixt our Sentiments. I made ſcarce any Anſwer to this, being afraid, leſt, if I ſhou'd put Roſamond too far in his Head, he might thereby find out the way to the Beautiful Counteſs of Devonſhire; ſo I endeavour'd to divert him from theſe Thoughts, by propoſing a Match at Tennis betwixt him and the Duke of Glouceſter. My only Comfort is, continu'd he, That he thinks no further than Roſamond, and that the Counteſs of Angleſy, who is very ſenſible of her Daughter's Beauty, and what Impreſſion it might make upon a young Prince, ſo much inclined to Tenderneſs, does keep her up very cloſe, without ſuffering her to come to Court, and that upon that Score ſhe makes all the World believe ſhe is moſt frequently indiſpoſed.

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

This offer was too pleaſing to the Earl of War⯑wick to refuſe it; for he had made ſeveral Trials of ſeeing her again, and went at divers times to pay her a Viſit, but my Lady Angleſey, who was an Experienc'd Overſeer, had taken ſuch meaſures, that ſetting aſide his firſt Viſit, when, to ſpeak the Truth, ſhe ſurpriz'd them, ſhe had always ſome Excuſe or other at hand to ſend him away hand⯑ſomely; ſo that when the General, who had got [35] a great Aſcendant in that Family, deſired him to go along with him, he was highly pleas'd with it. The Perſon he was to act, in amuſing the Duke of Devonſhire, was indeed not altogether ſuitable to his Wiſh; but he would certainly have gone under much worſe Conditions, flattering himſelf, that at leaſt he might by Intervals ſay ſomthing or other that would abundantly recompence his Labour.

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

[36] The General Talbot was not a little vex'd alſo to meet with my Lady Angleſey in her Daughter's Apartment; but reſolving to make the beſt how⯑ever of the Earl of Devonſhire's Abſence, he told them at his firſt coming into the Room, That he was come to entertain them with an Affair of Moment, and being placed next to the Counteſs of Angleſey, he judged he could do no leſs than enter upon ſomething that might Divert, and make ſome favourable Impreſſion upon them. The main Subject of his Diſcourſe was ſuch as he lov'd to ſpeak of moſt: As for Inſtance, The Famous Siege of Orleans, wherein he was ſo much concern'd in conjunction with the Earl of Salis⯑bury, where the Maid of Orleans began to ſig⯑nalize her ſelf in ſo miraculous a manner; as alſo in the Battel of Patay, where the Earl of Suffolk loſt the Day: The General did here Wonders, and they were both taken Priſoners by this Heroine. Neither did the General forget to enlarge upon the taking of Roan by the Count de Dunois; for it was he, who, together with the Duke of Somerſet, did moſt bravely defend that Place, and who was deliver'd up as an Hoſtage, for the Payment of 50000 Crowns of Gold; but the Engliſh would rather have Mortgaged half the Kingdom than left him in the Lurch, whom they knew to be one of their beſt Generals, and whom they commonly uſed to ſtile The Engliſh Achilles. Theſe being all matters ſufficiently known, and the Counteſs of Angleſey was better acquainted with them than moſt People, being a Lady of great Senſe, and of an Eminent Rank at Court; however, ſhe would not interrupt him, and as he was very apt to ſpeak very paſſionately of a thing wherein he had acted ſo Great and Noble a Part, and that the Preſence of the Counteſs of Devonſhire had raiſed in him an extraordinary Vi⯑vivacity, [37] he would ſometimes talk ſo loud, that the Counteſs of Angleſey, who ſet next to him, was not a little diſturb'd with the Noiſe.

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

The General vex'd to the Heart, at the Ill Succeſs of this Viſit, was ready to quarrel with the Earl on [38] account of his ſitting next the young Counteſs, alledging, That ſince he lov'd her, no Body elſe ought to pretend to that Place; but this Ill Humour was ſo far from diſpleaſing his Rival, that he was highly delighted with it.

My Lord of Warwick having diſcover'd freſh Charms in the Counteſs, both in reference to her Wit and Perſon, was afflicted to the Heart at the thoughts of her ſo Dreadful Overſeer, meaning her Mother; and as he ſaw no Means how to be rid of her, Alas! cry'd he, Alas! Is this the Proſ⯑pect of my approaching Happineſs! I am afraid I ſhall be expos'd to abundance of Trouble, without the leaſt certainty of being recompenc'd according to my Deſires. He was not only perplex'd with his own Misfor⯑tune, but alſo forc'd to bear his full ſhare in that of the General. He came to awaken him at Day break, to tell him ſeveral things, which would have prov'd but very indifferent Entertainment to him, had it not bin for the Name of the Counteſs, which being often intermingled in his Diſcourſe, did ſomewhat allay his Ill Humour. The General had not bin able to hit another Opportunity to give her a Viſit, becauſe the Earl of Devonſhire underſtanding how long they had ſtaid for his coming home, had made him ſeveral Viſits one after another; and as the General was not very happy at contriving Love Intreagues, ſo, what⯑ever pains he took to find out a ſpecious Pretence, his Stock was quite exhauſted, ſo that he came to the Earl's in a very bad Humour. I am almoſt deſperate, ſaid he to him, The Earl of Devonſhire has bin ſo often with me, that we have nothing more to ſay to one another; I have ſettled his Buſineſs much more to his Advantage than he could have done himſelf, and thereby have dealt unjuſtly with one of my beſt Friends; and after all, I don't find all this to be look'd upon as deſerving any thing [39] at this Jealous Fellow's Hands; I have a great mind, ſaid he frowningly, to pick a Quarrel with him? For, What Benefit do I reap from the Obligations he owes me? I ſee his Lady no more, and I proteſt to you I am ready to be choak'd, and this forc'd Silence makes me loſe every thing that might be pleaſing to her. To embroil your ſelf with him, ſaid the Earl, would be a very odd Method to hope for a favourable Reception from her: But you being better acquainted with him than I, let us pretend, That we have heard he has a mind to ſell his fine Seat near Windſor, and that I am willing to pur⯑chaſe it; let us go to ſee him together, and, if he is at home, you ſhall amuſe him in Diſcourſe, whilſt I will talk to the Counteſs, and prepare her to give you a favourable Reception; if he be abroad, you may lay hold of this Opportunity your ſelf.

The General highly ſatisfied with this Expe⯑dient, embrac'd it with all his Heart. So they ſent to the Earl of Devonſhire, to know whether he were at Home, and were told he was not. This happening much to their Wiſh, they went thi⯑ther immediately, but found him come home. This News put them almoſt in to Diſpair, the Coach being already within the Gates of the Court-yard, inſtead of alighting, they began to conſult what was beſt to be done, one was for going ſtraightways into the Counteſs of Devonſhire's Apartment, the other was for going back without ſeeing any Body; whilſt they were thus diſputing, the Counteſſes People look'd at them out of the Windows: At laſt, the Earl of Warwick ſo far prevail'd with the General, that he was to alight alone, and make a ſhort Viſit, but mention not one Word concern⯑ing the Country-ſeat. The matter was perform'd exactly as they had agreed together, the General ſtaid but a very ſhort time with the Earl of Devon⯑ſhire, [40] which ſeem'd to him a Year, and then came back to his Coach almoſt like a Mad-man. I am almoſt reduc'd to Diſpair, ſaid he to the Earl, I meet with inſurmountable Obſtacles in my Way; Were they made on purpoſe to plague me above all other Men? I have always heard them talk of Love as of a Secret Paſſion, full of Pleaſure, without any conſiderable Intermixture of Pain; I thought it was ſufficient to Love, to be belov'd again; to declare ones Love, and to have the Liberty of taking a Walk together; I have known a Thou⯑ſand who courted their Miſtreſſes without much Difficulty, and a Thouſand Miſtreſſes that were not known but by the Name and Merits of their Lovers; but in my Caſe every thing is very diffe⯑rent, I meet every where Dragons in my Way, whom I am forc'd to Combat. I could not ſpeak to her I adore, and my Patience is put to the hardeſt Tryal that ever was. I have done, my Lord, I am quite tired of this way of Living, ſo far different from what I was us'd to till now, I am reſolv'd to think of nothing but the recovery of my Liberty; this ſhall be my only Miſtreſs for the future, and I am ſtrangely miſtaken, if ever I part from her again.

He would have continued talking with the ſame Violence, all the remainder of the Day, had they, at their coming to Court, not immediately eſpi'd the King. The Earl of Warwick quite tired with the General's Complaints, and his own Vexation for not having bin able to ſee the Counteſs, made all the haſt he could to approach his Majeſty, who ſeeing him alight out of his Coach, ask'd him ſoon after, with a low Voice, From whence do you come? Sir, reply'd the Earl, your Majeſty may eaſily gueſs, ſince you ſee me with the General. I underſtand you, ſaid he, But you are in the Wrong, not to endeavour to cure [41] him of his Paſſion; I know you are Malicious enough to encourage his Love by ſome Flatte⯑ring Hopes or other. There is no great occa⯑ſion for that, ſaid the Earl laughing, he is apt enough to indulge himſelf in what he thinks a Pleaſure to him.

Whilſt they were thus talking, the King en⯑tring into his Cloſet, told him, I could not have believed the General would have Embark'd on ſo weak a Bottom, eſpecially at ſuch an Age as his, and therefore, the other day having a Mind to be ſatisfy'd in that point, it ſucceeded according to my Wiſh: For I had the Picture of the Counteſs of Devonſhire Drawn without her Knowledge, which the Picture-Drawer, (purſuant to my in⯑ſtructions) ſent to me to be Sold. The General happening to ſee it, was much diſcompoſed; but what pleaſed me beſt, was, that he did all he could to deceive me. The next day he went to the Limner, unto whom he gave a good Summ of Money, charging him to make me believe it was drawn for Roſamond, King Henry II. Mi⯑ſtreſs, who has bin dead above 300 years ago. I can't forbear laughing, when I conſider how pleaſed he was, when he believed me to be ſo eaſily impoſed upon, and I have now no more reaſon to doubt, that it was his Intereſt that made him Conceal my Lady Devonſhire from me. I know all that your Majeſty has told me, ſaid the Earl, The General Proud of having Acted ſo nice a Part, came on purpoſe to tell it me, in hopes of being Applauded for his Conduct; and for my part, I was not backwards to ſhew my ſelf a Man of Com⯑plaiſance. He will be obliged to you for it, as long as he lives, reply'd the King. But you came from the Counteſſes, Pray what News there? She was inviſible to us, reply'd the Earl, She did not appear; but her Husband did. The General was [42] ready to Quarrel with him, becauſe he had ſo little Breeding to be at Home, when he thought he had bin abroad.

The King return'd no anſwer to the Earl, but after pondering a little upon the Matter, at laſt told him, You ſee how all my Mirth is changed at once into Sadneſs, I am uneaſie at what the General is likely to ſuffer, when he comes to be acquainted with the Intreague betwixt the Counteſs of De⯑vonſhire and I. Then you are happy Sir, cry'd the Earl. No, hitherto I live only on Hopes, reply'd he, and were it not for Albine, who gives me ſome Com⯑fort, I would certainly act above-board with my Mi⯑ſtreſs; For what is it I have to fear, and after all, how do I know whether her Governeſs does not deceive me? Your Majeſty is above all this, ſaid the Earl; But conſider, whether it be not the hight of Pleaſure to a Heart ſenſible of the Nicities ſo Love, to know, that you are perhaps the only Monarch in the World whoſe Love is unreveal'd? Yes, anſwer'd the King, I ſhould extreamly de⯑light in it, and reliſh this kind of Myſtery in its utmoſt perfection, were I happy. But let us change the Theme: I am perhaps the only Mo⯑narch, who has Patience enough to Sigh ſo long without knowing more of his Deſtiny than I do; I ſuffer my ſelf to be guided by an Old Woman, I am afraid of diſobliging the Counteſs, and ſuffer a great deal in hopes of one happy day. 'Tis true added he, This day is not far off; for I am to ſend the Earls of Angleſey and Devonſhire to York, though under a ſlender pretence, their Bu⯑ſineſs being to inform themſelves concerning ſome differences aroſe in thoſe parts, whereof they are to give me an account. Probably your Majeſty, ſaid the Earl, will viſit the Counteſs without any further Precaution, ſo ſoon as they are gone; I ſee only one Obſtacle in the way, that is my Lady Angleſey, [43] who keeps a very watchful Eye over her Daughter, but we muſt give her a Doſe of Opium. You divert your ſelf at your own Pleaſure, reply'd the King; you may be aſſured I am not acquainted with the Temper of that Old Dragon; but I have contrived the Matter thus with Albine, The ſame Night I have ſent the Father and Husband to York, I am to come to a little Gate leading into the Garden, and in diſguiſe, and ſo muſt you. How! Sir, ſaid the Earl, will your Majeſty take me for your Companion, perhaps to divert the good Old Governeſs? Much thereabouts, ſaid the King; For you muſt knock at the Great Gate in diſ⯑guiſe, and ask to ſpeak with her; ſo ſoon as ſhe comes to you, you are to tell her, your Nephew has kill'd a Gentleman in a Duel, they are in ſearch after him, he is hard by, and deſire you would ſhelter him here only for one Night; He intends to go aboard a Ship before day-light, and you will Conduct him ſafely into the Nether⯑lands. Hereupon, the Old Woman is to run Mumbling to the Counteſs of Angleſey, to beg her to ſuffer her Nephew to come into the Houſe; and if ſhe can get the Key of the little Gate, I am to go up by a Private Pair of Stairs to the Counteſſes Apartment. But, ſuppoſing her Mother ſhould refuſe to let you come in Sir, what will you do then, ſaid the Earl? O, ſhe certainly will, for ſhe loves Albine, and will cer⯑tainly pity her Caſe.

The King having ſpoken theſe Words, went immediately into his Bed-Chamber, and the Earl to his Houſe; but ſo pierced with Pain and Vexation, that he threw himſelf upon his Bed, accuſing his ill Deſtiny, and upbraiding himſelf for having delay'd ſo long to bring over Al⯑bine into his Intereſt. He could likewiſe not gueſs at the cauſe of Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy's Si⯑lence, [44] all which joyn'd together, made him ima⯑gine himſelf the moſt Unfortunate of any Man Living. I ſhall never know, cry'd he, the ut⯑moſt extent of my Diſgrace: 'Tis my Maſter that is the cauſe thereof, who has pitch'd upon me for his Confident, and will have me go along with him to a Place, where I am not able to ſee him without dying upon the Spot. What! muſt I leave him at the Counteſſes, after I have taken all the Pains that poſſibly I can to get him Admittance? I would ſooner throw my ſelf into the Thames. But, after all, won't it be better to be there preſent; becauſe I flatter my ſelf, that ſome Accident or other may thwart the happy ſucceſs of this Interview. Thus the Earl Tor⯑mented himſelf, ſometimes ſitting, ſometimes a⯑riſing; but all this while, ſo overwhelm'd and en⯑tangled in Grief, that he knew not what Re⯑ſolution to take: His Great Mind not uſed to Buckle, was not ſo much afflicted with having the King for his Rival, as with the Tenderneſs he ſuppoſed the Counteſs had for this Young Monarch. O! your Beautiful Eyes, cry'd he, What was it you would fain have told me at the very firſt time I ſaw you? What did you mean the o⯑ther day, by thoſe piercing Darts, ſo full of Sprightlineſs and Tenderneſs? Oh! why would not you caſt your angry looks upon me, when I told you that it was you alone I adored? I ſhould be apt to believe, continued he, that ſhe hearkned to me for no other reaſon, than to Sa⯑crifice me to the King, and to tell him the wole Matter; but ſhe has kept the Secret: Tohwhat purpoſe is all this Myſterious Contrivance! What can be the reaſon ſhe ſhould be Careful of me of one ſide, when ſhe Stabs me on the other? And ſuppoſing I ſhould bring over Albine to my Intereſt, what Benefit ſhall I Reap by it, ſince [45] her Miſtreſs loving the King ſo well as ſhe does, ſhe will find out means to ſee him in Private? Thus he paſs'd half the Night, without coming to any fix'd Reſolution; when on a ſudden, ſome⯑thing came into his Head that afforded him ſome freſh Hopes, and a little Comfort: He look'd upon the Succeſs thereof, as a kind of a Mira⯑cle which might produce a conſiderable change in his preſent afflicted Condition, and his Heart, which ſeldom uſed to deſpair, was willing to flat⯑ter it ſelf with good Succeſs.

So, without troubling himſelf for the preſent, with the Concerns of the Family of my Lady Devonſhire, he did not oppoſe the going of the Father and Husband to York; but immediately went to ſee Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy. How, Madam, ſaid he, ſince you have thought fit to Sacrifice your Reputation in paſſing for the King's Mi⯑ſtreſs, will you ſuffer with Patience to ſee him ſnatch'd away from you? Your Conqueſt will be attended with nothing but Shame at this rate. 'Tis this Night, Madam, That is to de⯑cide your Fate; The King has not bin able hi⯑therto to entertain the Counteſs of Devonſhire in Private, but now every thing is prepared for his ſecret entrance there: Will you let this go on with the ſame Tranquility wherewith you have neglected my firſt Council? My Lord, ſaid ſhe, I have not bin inſenſible of the Misfortune that threatned me; I flatter'd my ſelf, that my Diſſatisfaction, and my Tenderneſs, might efface my Rival out of that Heart, whereof I once had the abſolute Poſſeſſion; I ſtaid for ſome favourable opportunity of diſcloſing my ſelf to the King: But ſince the Caſe is ſo preſ⯑ſing, I muſt ſend to deſire him to make me a Viſit, that I might load him with Reproaches. That I may Cry, and that I may Threaten, I [46] will kill my ſelf before his Face, if he leaves me. Nothing can be better, Madam, ſaid the Earl; but I beg you, let me but ſee you Act one Part of this Comedy, that either I may Applaud or Correct you; for you know I am a Critick at Plays. No, no, my Lord, cry'd ſhe, This is no matter of diverſion to me, I never was ſo much Concern'd at any thing in all my Life; But, ſaid ſhe, after having pauſed a while, I know not how the King came to the Knowledge of the Counteſs, nor how it came to paſs that ſhe lov'd him ſo; you muſt inſtruct me in this Point. The Earl approving her Propoſition, gave her an account of his Hunting at Windſor, and at the ſame time, charg'd her, not to mention any thing of this Evening's Meeting, becauſe the King would certainly charge him with the diſ⯑covery thereof, having Communicated the Secret to no body elſe but himſelf.

There was no great occaſion for the Earl of War⯑wick to encourage Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, ſhe was too nearly concerned in the Matter, not to make uſe of all her Arms; and ſhe reſolv'd to take all the ad⯑vantages ſhe could. Her Nght Gown was of Gold and Blue Silk, Trimm'd at the Edges with pre⯑cious Stones; Her Head was careleſly dreſs'd, without hiding the Luſtre of her Coal-black Hair; She wore the King's Picture on one of her Arms, and in ſhort, conſulted her Looking Glaſs ſo well, that ſhe had never appear'd more Beautiful in all her Life. Having ſent a Meſſenger to the King, to deſire him to make her a Viſit, He did not fail to come according⯑ly; for no Man could have paid her more Re⯑ſpect than he did; and notwithſtanding his new Paſſion, ſhe had an almoſt uncontroulable A⯑ſcendant over him. He was not a little di⯑ſturb'd at the earneſt Meſſage ſhe ſent him, and turning towards the Earl of Warwick, What [47] does ſhe want with me, ſaid he, can't you gueſs? Sir, anſwered the Earl, my Gueſs is, That ſhe that is a Miſtreſs of ſo Young and Handſome a King, as you are, does deſire nothing more than to ſee him, to pleaſe him, and to take care of a Heart, in the Poſſeſſion whereof conſiſts the Fe⯑licity of her Life: For the reſt, I can't tell whe⯑ther ſhe has any other Buſineſs, which has o⯑bliged her to ſend this Compliment to your Ma⯑jeſty. I will go thither, and paſs away half an hour, ſaid the King; for I am reſolved that no⯑thing ſhall come in my way, to hinder this Nights Appointment. The Earl being highly diſſatisfy'd at theſe Words, to detain the King the longer, put him in mind, that he had promiſed to give Audience to the Spaniſh Ambaſſadour, who was ready to come to Court, and that he had better to pay his Viſit to the Young Elizabeth after the Au⯑dience was over.

Accordingly, the King delay'd his Viſit; but no ſooner was the Ambaſſador gone, but he went to his Miſtreſs, whom he found Singing in a Me⯑lancholly Tone. So ſoon as ſhe ſaw the King, ſhe left off; but the King deſir'd her to go on: As the Swan, ſaid ſhe, near the Banks of the River Seman⯑der, bemoans his Death by his laſt Song, ſo I foretell mine this day; yes, Sir, I foretell it, and reproach you with being the Cauſe thereof. He Bluſh'd at theſe Words, and gave her a Tender look; What is it, ſaid he, you mean, to reproach me thus undeſerved⯑ly? She then laid open the Matter to him with Tears in her Eyes. The King ſurpriz'd to ſee her ſo well acquainted with the whole Matter, ſtood it out nevertheleſs moſt Boldly, telling her, That nothing in the World was more Falſe; That he had never ſeen the Counteſs of Devonſhire, except for one Moment at her own Houſe, whilſt he was at Windſor; and that ever ſince that time, he had not ſo [48] much as ever thought of her; That, if it were true, that he had bin ſo far ſtruck with her Beau⯑ty as ſhe imagin'd, it would perhaps not have proved impoſſible for him to have ſeen her again; But his Opinion was, that ſome Body or other had contrived to make her kill her ſelf with her own Weapons; becauſe they knew he was a declared Enemy againſt ſuch like Inquiſitive Practices. The Marchioneſs touch'd to the Heart to ſee him ſtand it out ſo ſtifly to conceal his Infidelity, be⯑gan to be in a moſt Furious Rage, and would not ſuffer him to ſtir out of the Room; and ſo ſoon as he began to talk of going, made moſt doleful Lamentations and Outcry's, declaring ſhe would kill her ſelf before his Face. As he knew very well, that my Lord Angleſey's and Devonſhire's Journey would take up ſome days, he conſidered that there would be no great difference in his En⯑joyment, if he deferr'd to ſee the Counteſs of Devonſhire till the next Night; ſo, that he did not part with Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy till very late, which appeas'd her Anger a little for the preſent; and the Earl of Warwick, very inquiſitive after e⯑very thing that was Tranſacted there, underſtand⯑ing that the King had ordered his Supper to be ſerved up there, did not queſtion, but that the Neck of the other Intreague was broken, at leaſt for that Night.

Upon this ſurmize, he diſguiſes himſelf as much as poſſible he could, and taking along with him Mr. Berincour, one of his Gentlemen, who for a conſiderable time paſt had bin his Confident in his Nocturnal Rambles, tells him the whole Con⯑cern, and ſo truſting to his good Fortune, away he goes to the little Gate of the Garden of the Counteſs of Angleſey, and immediately ſends Be⯑rincour to ſpeak to Albine. The Action he was upon, was ſo full of Temerity, that he himſelf durſt [49] not make a due Reflection upon the danger that might attend it. He was to deceive the Young Counteſs in Perſonating the King; when at the ſame time, he knew not the Place of their Ap⯑pointment, and whether it were to be by the light, or in the dark; He could not but dread every thing from his Maſter, if the thing ſhould come to his Knowledge; Beſides a Thouſand un⯑foreſeen Accidents, as dangerous in their Conſe⯑quences as any of the reſt. But his Natural In⯑trepidity, and his Love making him conſider all theſe Dangers, for no other end than to outbrave them; he went on as faſt as he could, without he⯑ſitating upon the Matter: So ſoon as he was come near the Garden, he ſtopt a little to ſtay for Be⯑rincour's return from Albine, who had managed e⯑very thing with ſo much Dexterity, that the Earl heard her coming much ſooner than he could or durſt have expected, and turning a Key a Thouſand times in the Lock, without being able to unlock it. Albine never made uſe of that Key and now was ſo much diſcompoſed at this Accident, that ſhe did not know what to do, all the Pains ſhe took to open the Lock proving to no purpoſe, ſhe at laſt broke it; She was then forced to tell him through a Cranny of the Door, that it was impoſſible for her to open it being in the dark and not daring to fetch a light; And that, for this time, ſhe knew not what could further be done. The Earl, almoſt reduced to Diſpair con⯑ſidering, that in caſe he loſt this Opportunity he could not meet with another ſo ſuitable to his Purpoſe, ſince the King's coming in Perſon would ſoon unfold the riddle; and underſtanding what had happened, would bear him as much ill will, as if he actually entertain'd the Counteſs.

He was very Tall and Large, the Wall was none of the higheſt, and he had obſerved that day, [50] when he found my Lady Devonſhire in the Grotto, that there were ſome Nails faſtned into it; ſo he got upon the Shoulders of his Gentleman, who being none of the leaſt, he ſcrambled over the Top of the Wall, though not without a good many ſcratches. He no ſooner got into the Gar⯑den, but he emptied his Pockets that were full of Gold, deſiring Albine, with a Gentile Air, to keep them for him; She believing him to be the King, was very ready to accept them, though at the ſame time, ſhe was under no ſmall apprehenſion, leſt this Intrigue, if diſcovered, might prove fatal to ſome body or other, and upon that ſcore, was ſo far overwhelm'd with Thoughts, that, had ſhe ſeen the Earl, ſhe would ſcarce have known him. He went along with her to a Private pair of Stairs, when the Old Gentlewoman remaining below, told him, He would find my Lady Devonſhire in a Room above. He was conſidering with himſelf, how to juſtifie this Treachery againſt the King, and her ſelf, when approaching to a Door, ſome body took him by the Hand, he follow'd ſoftly into a Chamber, where, without giving him lei⯑ſure to ſpeak, he was told, What will you think of me, my Lord, I dare not as much as ask it? The Steps I now make, ought to appear to you ſo Criminal, that I am perhaps upon the point of loſing all that Eſteem you gave me ſuch aſſurances of, when you came hither along with the General Talbot. The Earl of Warwick was ſurprized to ſuch a degree, at what he heard, as to remain under the greateſt uncertainty, what anſwer to give: By what Ac⯑cident, ſaid he, ſhould this Perſon know, that I am not the King? For, though ſhe does not ſee me, ſhe is too well inform'd of the whole Matter, thus to miſtake me. Is this a Snare wherein to catch me? Am I with my Charming Counteſs, or with ſome body elſe that intends to Trap me? He had not much time to con⯑ſider [51] of his preſent Circumſtances, becauſe the Lady expected his Anſwer, in order to continue their Converſation. I am ſo far confounded at this Exceſs of my good Fortune, ſaid he to her, that inſtead of en⯑tertaining any Thoughts that might be injurious to you, I find my Tenderneſs and Acknowledgment encreaſed to ſuch a degree, as is impoſſible to be expreſs'd. However, Madam, in the midſt of all my Happineſs, I muſt confeſs to you, that I want the Pleaſure of ſeeing you, which I beg of you to afford me. With all my Heart, reply'd ſhe, I will go and fetch a light. She went out to call Albine, who trembling for fear, had no power to come up, but had ſtood all this while at the Bottom of the Stairs, and was now ready to run out of her Wits, when ſhe was ordered to bring up a Torch; For now ſhe thought her ſelf loſt for ever, the reaſon was this:

You muſt know, that at the firſt Viſit the Earl of Warwick made to the Counteſs of Devonſhire, that fatal Star, which ſometimes enforces a Heart, to enter upon an Amorous Engagement for the remainder of ones Life, had ſuch a Pow⯑erful Influence upon hers, that ſhe did not take all the neceſſary Precautions to defend her ſelf a⯑gainſt that Deſtiny which we ought to reſiſt with all our Might. On the contrary, ſhe Cheriſh'd her Paſſion, and as ſhe had her Mind wholly taken up with the Earl, ſhe told Albine, ſhe would have no body ſpeak to her of the King. This old Go⯑verneſs, ready to run diſtracted at the Thoughts to loſe all at once, the Benefit of ſuch Rich Preſents, took care not to contradict her Mi⯑ſtreſs, judging that this would prove a means to unfold a ſecret, ſhe intended to make her ſelf Miſtreſs of, for her own Benefit. Your Averſion to the King, ſaid ſhe, is not the effect of your Con⯑ſiderations, Madam, but of ſomething elſe, that pleaſes you; Pray, put an entire Confidence in me, [52] I will never miſuſe it, or give you any occaſion of re⯑penting. Alas! reply'd the Young Counteſs, of what an eaſie Temper am I? Albine, hear me with Patience; for I ſhall eaſe my ſelf a little when I tell you, that I am Charm'd with the Deſerts and Wit of the Earl of Warwick. As I am reſolved never to enter into an Amorous Engagement with him, I will ſhun him with all my Power, making my Duty the only Rule of my Conduct; ſo I am prepared to un⯑dergo the moſt cruel Torments that can be; Ah! what Comfort it is, for one to diſcharge ones whole Mind to an Affectionate and Faithful Friend! I entreat you to let the King know, how uneaſie my Family is upon his Account, and that I beg him, not to entertain any further Thoughts of me; This being the only Favour I requeſt at his Hands, in recompence for all the Reſpect I bear him.

Albine was at a ſtand what to do, ſince to break off an Intrigue ſhe judged ſhe had almoſt brought to its Period, was altogether againſt her Intereſt. She had a Nephew, who being a ſenſible Fellow, ſhe made him a Partner in the ſecret; It was then agreed betwixt them, that nothing ſhould be told to the King, concerning the Counteſſes indiffe⯑rency for him; and that the better to conceal the Matter, they were to open her Letters written to him, and in lieu thereof, ſend ſome of their own making, Written in her own Name. Though this was a very hazardous Project, yet was it well reliſh'd by Albine, who was prolonging this In⯑trigue at any rate. But as Albine knew very well the King's Impatience to ſee the Counteſs, and her Averſion to ſuch an Interview, ſhe pitch'd upon the following Stratagem: Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, if you will preſerve the Earl of Warwick from Deſtruction, you muſt your ſelf explain your Mind to him; For, flattering himſelf, that his Ad⯑dreſſes, his Paſſion and Time, will produce in you ſome favourable Sentiments for him, this makes him com⯑mit [53] every day a Thouſand Extravagancies, to the [...]uin of his Fortune, and of your Reputation? You are [...]ell enough acquainted with my Lord Devonſhire's Temper, ſo ſoon as he gets the leaſt diſcovery that the Earl is in Love with you, he will certainly believe [...]hat you love him alſo, and therefore I adviſe you, to ſee the Earl, and to declare to him, that his Hopes are very ill Grounded. Oh! Albine, ſaid the Counteſs, what advice is that you give me, after I have diſ⯑ [...]oſed to you the deplorable State of my Heart? Is [...]his the way to cure me, to have an Interview with ſo [...]ovely an Enemy? No, no, let what Fate will at⯑ [...]end him, 'tis better than to run the Riſque of ſeeing him; my Eyes would certainly contradict my Words, and what a Shame would it be for me to betray my own Infirmities? 'Tis enough, that I am ſenſible of them my ſelf, and therefore ought to take all poſſible precautions against them. But, Madam, reply'd this dange⯑rous Woman, conſider what an Injury it would be to him, if the King ſhould take an Averſion againſt him, and my Lord Devonſhire againſt you? And why ſhould he hate me, return'd ſhe with an Air full of Sweetneſs? Am I Miſtreſs of my own Inclinations? Which have Cap⯑ [...]vated my Heart, in ſpite of all the Power I have? Am [...]ot I rather to be pity'd than blamed? No, Madam, continued the Old Governeſs, you would not deſerve any body's Pity, if you refuſe a Moments Interview to [...]he Earl of Warwick, to tell him your ſelf, that he [...]atters himſelf with vain hopes, and that he ought the ſooner the better check his Paſſion; But it may be, by that time he has forgot you, you will continue ſtill to [...]emember him. O! kind Heavens, cry'd the Coun⯑teſs with Tears in her Eyes! I am afraid, the Re⯑medy you preſcribe has a mixture of Poiſon in it: Ne⯑vertheleſs, continued ſhe, becauſe thou ſhalt have no Reaſon to upbraid me upon that Score, I will ſpend a quarter of an hour in an Interview with him. And [...] was upon this Expreſſion, the old Governeſs [54] told the King, he might come to ſee the Counteſs.

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

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

The Earl of VVarwick was much ſurprized, to find the ſame Perſon that ſpoke to him, not to come again; and he durſt not go in ſearch after her, for fear of meeting ſome Body elſe, than what [55] he look'd for; whilſt he was thus waiting for the Iſſue with much impatience he heard ſomething coming near him, which ſaid with a low Voice, Sir, I am almoſt in Deſpair, my Lady Devonſhire is ſo Capricious, that ſhe won't come here again; What have I done, ſaid he, ſhe ſhould ſhun to ſee me? Her Head is full of Chimera's, added that Perſon, concerning your Paſſion for Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy; if your Majeſty will be pleaſed to take my Advice, I would go out of the Garden imme⯑diately, and leave the reſt to my Management, to perſuade her into a more Complaiſant Hu⯑mour. The Earl being a Perſon of ſingular vivaci⯑ty of Wit, immediately diſcovered the Bottom of the Intrigue; ſo he told Albine, that he lov'd the Counteſs too Paſſionately, to give her as much as one Moments uneaſineſs, and that he would deſire her to deliver a Billet in his behalf to the Counteſs, deſiring at the ſame time, ſome Light, Pens, Ink and Paper, and that as ſoon as he had Written, he would leave the Room. The old Governeſs much pleaſed with the [...]opes of his ſpeedy departure, went to fetch a light; But gueſs at her Surprize when in lieu of the King, whom ſhe expected to meet, ſhe ſaw it was the Earl of Warwick; ſhe ſtood ſtupify'd like a Stone, without any Moti⯑on, except of her Eyes and Mouth, but with⯑out being able to utter one Word: I am ſenſible, Albine, of the whole Matter, ſaid he, though I want time to explain my ſelf at this Juncture; Pray find out a way for me to ſee your Miſtreſs; And I will make Peace both for my ſelf and you. Follow me, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, but go ſoftly, I hope there is one Door or other left unlock'd, for us to enter: Nor was it long before they found a pri⯑vate Door, which leading into a Wardrobe, they went forwards, and ſurprized my Lady Devonſhire, all melting in Tears, and lying up⯑on [56] a Couch. The Earl threw himſelf at her Feet, before ſhe was ſenſible any body was near her; Is it poſſible, ſaid he, my Divine Coun⯑teſs, I ſhould be ſo unfortunate as to ſee you ſhun me? All theſe hazards I expoſe my ſelf to, in com⯑ing hither, ſhould not they be look'd upon as the true effects of my Paſſion? How! cry'd ſhe, You muſt come along with the King; Oh! I little thought, my Lord, you would have acted his Confident here? Though I am not quite ignorant, Madam, reply'd the Earl, of his Sentiments for you, yet I de⯑clare to you, I ſhould have expired with Grief, before I could come along with him: No, Madam, I am alone, and come for no other reaſon, than to ſeek your Aid I ſtand ſo much in need of, to ſupport my ſelf under thoſe Pains which are inſe⯑parable Attendants of an unfortunate Paſſion. I neither will, nor can afford you any help, my Lord, ſaid the Counteſs, neither did I give my Conſent of ſeeing you upon any other Account, but to clear you at once of thoſe flattering Con⯑ceptions, you have taken in reſpect to me. Go on Madam, make an end at once, reply'd he, Stab me to the Heart, here is my Sword; and ſince I have bin ſo bold as to lift up my Eyes to adore you, don't refuſe me the Grace of being Puniſh'd by your own Hands: But if your Goodneſs would afford me ſome few Moments to enter upon my Juſtification, I could, Madam, make you ſenſible of the ſincerity of my Paſſion. Do you remember, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, interrupting him, that you talk to the Counteſs of Devonſhire, who can't be innocent as long as ſhe hears you talk at that rate? Then ceaſe for ever to love me, and to tell me that you do; for I can make you no other returns, but thoſe of Ingrati⯑tude? Oh! Madam, cry'd the Earl, I know too well, that I have flattered my ſelf, you can admit of no Slaves under the Degree of Kings: You [57] judge not rightly of my Inclinations, anſwer'd the Counteſs, ſince it is my Duty that engages me; and I dare be ſo frank as to tell you, That were I in a Condition to make my Choice betwixt the King and you, my Lord, you ſhou'd have no Rea⯑ſon of Complaint; but after all, don't preſume upon this account, for no body will reap the leaſt Benefit by it. Theſe Words occaſion'd an inex⯑preſſible Confuſion in the Earl, in ſpite of thoſe few Glimpſes of Hopes he conceived in ſome of her Expreſſions, in entertaining him at ſo late an Hour, and in ſo ſecret a manner; but ſhe ſtill in⯑treated him to deſiſt, and not to diſturb her Repoſe by ſuch Addreſſes, for which ſhe ſhould think her ſelf but little obliged to him. The Earl anſwered to every Particular with ſo much Reſpect and Paſſion, that at laſt ſhe could not refrain from telling him, with a very melancholy Air: Oh! my Lord, How came I to know you! What a ſtrange Fatality to happen to a young Perſon, who always led a retired Life! Alas! Madam, per⯑mit me, ſaid he, to bear ſome Share in your ſoli⯑tude, I ſhould think my ſelf too Happy; and it ſhould be the only Endeavour of my Life, and all my Care, to allay the Hardſhips of your Re⯑tiredneſs by a Thouſand complaiſant Actions. Oh God! reply'd ſhe, The Comfort you propoſe is too full of Danger; you muſt ſhun me, my Lord, and I muſt ſhun you.

The Earl was ſo much ſurprized with Admiration at a Thouſand other pretty things ſhe told him, that the time paſs'd away very faſt; and as, according to the old Proverb, A Lover's Watch goes ſeldom exact; ſo, had it not bin for Albine they had ſcarce parted at yet, tho' it was already break of Day. The Earl would have given any thing in the World, to have given enjoy'd the Charming Com⯑pany of the Fair Counteſs for a few Hours longer; [58] but no time was to be loſt, for fear of being over⯑heard at going away; ſo he parted, but with ſo much Grief and Vexation, as is ſcarce to be ex⯑preſs'd.

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

My Lord Warwick now overjoy'd at his Inter⯑view with my Lady Devonſhire, goes home, to be⯑ſtow the beſt part of the Night in indulging his Fancy with the freſh Remembrance of ſo Charm⯑ing a Perſon. He was ſcarce fall'n a ſleep, when very early in the Morning one of his Servants came in, to tell him, that the General muſt of Neceſſity ſpeak with him; immediately after he enters the Room, with ſo much gaiety in his Countenance and Actions, that the Earl, who knew him always to be of a grave Deportment, not knowing what to make of it, look'd ſtedfaſt at him, not without ſome Signs of Surprize; and, the more he obſerved the General to take notice of it, the more he appear'd to be pleaſed at it. What an Alteration! cry'd the Earl: What is the Matter, my Lord? May one be permitted to know ſome Part of your Secrets? Ah! my Dear, my Lord, ſaid he, embracing him; you ſee here before you the moſt Happy Man in the World. Look ſtedfaſtly upon me: For, without Vanity, there is not a Man now living up on Earth who can match my Good Fortune. I underſtand you, [59] reply'd the Earl, you have found out a Cure for that troubleſome Paſſion, which ſo lately play'd the Tyrant over your Heart; A Cure, do you ſay? reply'd the General abruptly, I would rather chooſe to die; you may take my Word for it, I am more Love-ſick than ever I was; Then you have made ſome conſiderable Advances, ſaid he, towards the Heart of the Counteſs of Devonſhire; Oh! ſaid the General, there you have hit it right: Pray mind how the Intrigue was carry'd on.

The [...]imner, who ſold me the Picture of this Lady, judging by the great Value he ſaw me put upon it, and by the Inſtructions I gave him to perſuade the King that it was the Fair Roſamond's Picture, that all theſe things were not done with⯑out very weighty Reaſons on my ſide; and that therefore my Heart bore great ſhare in all theſe Aſſiduities, at laſt began to be ſatisfy'd I was in Love with the Counteſs of Devonſhire. As he was not ignorant, of how difficult an acceſs ſhe was, ſo he propoſed to me the removing of theſe Obſta⯑cles, which otherwiſe might prevent my having an Interview with her. I need not tell you whether I was ready to embrace his Offer, or whether I engaged him further into my Intereſt, by very large Preſents; 'tis enough to let you know, that this laſt Night, when it was pitch dark, he conducted me into the Lady Angleſey's Garden, and from thence into a Grotto by the help of ſome Lights: Here I beheld the Counteſs with a more Beautiful Luſtre than the Sun it ſelf that gives us Light; ſhe ſhew'd a Thouſand en⯑gaging Complaiſances for me, and at laſt ask'd me for my large Diamond, which ſhe put upon her Finger, and in lieu thereof preſented me with this ſmall Turquoiſe cut in the Shape of a Heart, a thing I ſhall always look upon ineſtimable.

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

The Earl of Warwick could hold no longer, but burſt out a laughing, a thing he would not have bin fond of at another time, but that he had bin with the Counteſs the ſame Night. I find, ſaid the General, (without giving him leaſure to ſpeak) [61] by your Mirth, you are overjoy'd at my Good Fortune. I am, reply'd he, to ſuch a degree, that I ſhould be leſs ſenſible of my own. The General embracing him, My Lord, ſaid he, I be⯑lieve my ſelf the only Man in the World, who has ſo Good a Maſter, ſo Beautiful a Miſtreſs, and ſo Tender a Friend. The Earl was ready to burſt, to keep himſelf from laughing at the Gene⯑ral's Fancy, of being belov'd by the Counteſs, and at his being thus impos'd upon by the Limner. This made him moſt ſeriouſly reflect upon the Frailties even of the greateſt Men in the World, when once they are ſeiz'd with a violent Paſſion; and had his own, for my Lady Devonſhire, not got quite the Aſcendant over him, he would have abjur'd and vow'd, not to engage in it as long as he liv'd. I don't queſtion, my Lord, ſaid he to the General, that by the Aſſiſtance of this Limner, you will have frequent Opportunities of ſeeing the Counteſs? This is ſo great a Bleſſing, reply'd he, that were it only in my Power, I would not miſs a Day of ſeeing her: But ſhe is oblig'd to act with ſo much Precaution, that I dare not urge that point too far, for fear her Complai⯑ſance ſhould turn to her great Prejudice. Some other Diſcourſe paſs'd betwixt them, all relating to the ſame Subject. Then the General took his Leave, and the Earl got out of Bed, in order to pay, forthwith, a Viſit to Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, being very impatient to know the Succeſs of the King's Viſit from her own Mouth.

She was ſtill in Bed, but he had immediate Ac⯑ceſs, becauſe he viſited her frequently, and that often by the King's Order. Well, Madam! ſaid he, Have you got the Victory? Was it poſſible he ſhould hold out againſt ſuch powerful Charms as yours? Have you ſtill a Rival in Being? Oh! my Lord, cry'd ſhe, you can't imagine to what a [62] degree the King loves her; I know too much of it, not to be ſenſible of every thing, and not to have penetrated in the very depth of his Heart; What is it I have not diſcovered there? I was ready to run diſtracted; but barbarous Man as he is, if my Lameutations at certain Intervals touch'd his Heart, the Idea of my Lady Devonſhire re⯑turn'd with ſuch an irreſiſtable Power, that in his very Eyes I could read his ſecret Anger, if not his Hatred againſt me: But, after all, I would not have him imagine, that I will tamely fall a Sacrifice to him, but am reſolved to venture at every thing, my Deſpair ſuggeſts to me. How, Madam! ſaid the Earl, and could not you get from him as much as one poſitive Aſſurance, that he would love nothing but you? So far from it, ſaid ſhe, that he would not as much as own his Paſſion; but conceal'd it to the utmoſt, for fear I ſhould give diſturbance to a Perſon that is ſo dear to him. He is not much in the wrong on't, anſwer'd the Earl ſmiling, you ſeem to me not the fitteſt Perſon to be entruſted therewith. I am a going to write a [...]etter to him, ſaid ſhe, and I will deſire you to deliver it. No ſaid he, don't let him know of my coming here▪ for as the leaſt Accident might [...] ſo it would diſerable [...] Well, [...] by another Perſon; [...] preſent when it is given to the [...] and writ the following Lines:

The Earl of Warwick was no ſooner come to Court, but paſſing by the King's Cloſet, he was call'd in, and his Majeſty ſenting himſelf in an Elbow-chair, told him, Have you heard nothing, of the pretty Parts the young Elizabeth acted before me? No, reply'd the Earl, I know nothing of it. I have nothing, reply'd the King, but Reproaches, Crys, Lamentations and Violence: I would above all things fain know, who is her Counſel-giver; ſince I can't imagine who ſhould think it his Bu⯑ſineſs, to tell her of my being in Love with the Counteſs of Devonſhire? and what is more, who it is that knows it? Albine underſtands her own Intereſts better, than to betray this Intrigue and her ſelf; and the young Lady can't be ſo ſimple, to divulge it: Who then cou'd this be! I hope, Sir, ſaid the Earl, your Majeſty does not ſuſpect me? No; ſaid the King, tho' in Love-Concerns you are none of the moſt [...] at leaſt, reply'd the Earl, I was ſo in this. I tell you again, con⯑tinued the King, I don't mean you. [...]ut am ex⯑treamly vex'd to ſee this young Woman in ſo diſmal a Condition; I am afraid ſhe will not out⯑live it. The Earl, who had a mind to dive into the true Sentiments of his Maſter, told him with a Smile, I am apt to believe your Majeſty ought not to be much afflicted, if ſhe ſhould die, ſince you loving another, ſhe will be peſtering you continually with a Thomſand Reprouches: In my Opinion, nothing is more troubleſome, than [64] to pleaſe Two Miſtreſſes. 'Tis true, reply'd the King, as my Paſſion is always ſincere, ſo I ſhall find it troubleſome enough; but as for you, who are the greateſt Diſſembler in the Kingdom, you would be able to have a Dozen or two at once, and impoſe upon them all, ſo that none of them ſhould be the wiſer for it. He had ſcarce ſpoken theſe Words, when Mrs. Lucy's Billet being de⯑liver'd to him, he firſt perus'd it by himſelf; but after a little pauſing upon the matter, read it aloud. There is a young Lady in a violent Paſſion, ſaid the King, What is your Opinion of her? The Earl, who ſaw in his Eyes ſome infalli⯑ble Marks and Returns of his Tenderneſs for her, told him, Sir, I hope, if ſhe continues in the ſame Humour, ſhe will ſcarce live till Night. What is it, ſaid the King, ſhe would have! ſhe frames a world of Chimeras, on purpoſe to plague her ſelf; Has ſhe obſerv'd me leſs Paſſionate, leſs Generous, or leſs frank in my Addreſſes! What is it makes her believe I am in Love with another! Go you and pay her a Viſit; aſſure her, in my behalf, that if ſhe loſes me, it is by reaſon of her Miſtruſt; and to be ſhort, endeavour to make her as eaſie as poſſibly you can. But, Sir, ſaid the Earl, if you are ſo much delighted in that new Paſſion you have embrac'd, Why will you trouble your ſelf with another? Were it not much better to leave her to her own Deſpair? Go, ſaid the King, and perform what I ordered you to do.

My Lord of Warwick rejoic'd to the Heart, at this Commiſſion, went ſtraight to Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy's, unto whom having given a full account of all that had paſs'd betwixt them, they ſoon agreed upon what Anſwer he was to return to the King. He in the mean while diverting his Thoughts with Walking in St. James's Park; the Earl ſoon [65] perceived him advancing a great pace, without talking to any Body; but no ſooner eſpi'd the Earl, when he ask'd him, How does this young Extravagant Lady do? Sir, ſaid he, ſhe appear'd to me not at all diſturb'd: We ſoon entred upon the Point of the Affections and Goodneſs you had for her Perſon, and I conjured her, to believe you were the ſame now, without the leaſt Change: That theſe Inſinuations proceeded from her Enemies, who infuſed falſe Notions into her, on purpoſe to diſturb her Repoſe, poſſibly thereby to check your Paſſion for her: That therefore ſhe ought to be upon her Guard, and not to be impoſed upon at that rate. She told me with much unconcerned⯑neſs, That, to her certain knowledge, ſhe was in⯑form'd of all the Circumſtances of the whole Intrigue, that ſhe flatter'd her ſelf your Majeſty would have made a ſincere Return to her; but now ſhe could hope for nothing, her Reſolution was fix'd; and ſo, continued he, ſhe turn'd away, and would not anſwer me one Word more, to what⯑ever I could ſay; ſo, after having ſtaid for ſome⯑time longer, I went my ways: But as I was going along her Gallery, which is pretty dark, I felt ſomething pull me back, and looking backwards, found it to be Eleenor, with Tears in her Eyes. My Lord, ſaid ſhe, my Miſtreſs has certainly ſome ſiniſter Deſigns in her Head, ſhe intends to put an End to her Life; ſhe ord'red me to get her ſome Opium, but to mention it to no Body. How! cry'd the King, Do you think ſhe will be ſo fooliſh as to poiſon her ſelf. Do you queſtion it, Sir? ſaid the Earl, Is not your Majeſty ſufficiently ac⯑quainted with the Temper of the Engliſh Women, who deſpiſe Death as much as thoſe Illuſtrious Roman Ladies that dy'd by their own Hands without the leaſt Regret or Fear.

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

The Stile of this Letter being very different from that of the preceeding ones, put the King actually in a Paſſion, he tore it to pieces, ſaying, She deſerved not the Reſpect he had always ſhewn her, and that the whole ſavouring very much of a Fickledneſs, he would make her repent of it; and that after having ruined her Reputation by the publiſhing of his Paſſion for her, he would compleat her Deſtruction by his Indifferency: That he intended to go ſee her in Perſon, and to upbraid her in the Face of the whole Court, with her Inconſtancy. That would prove an infallible Means, ſaid the Earl, of the Death at leaſt of three People; Elizabeth Lucy will certainly [67] poiſon her ſelf; General Talbot will die for Grief, when he underſtands that your Majeſty is likely to traverſe his Love; and the Earl of Devonſhire out of Madneſs and Jealouſy will kill his Lady. No matter, ſaid the King, I am reſolv'd once in my Life time to follow the Inclinations of my own Heart, without hearkening to a thouſand Rea⯑ſons, that are contradictory to my Satisfaction. I don't preſume ſo far, Sir, anſwer'd the Earl, as to engage your Majeſty into what I propoſe, in good earneſt: Madam Elizabeth Lucy is not de⯑ſerving enough for you to offer any Violence to your Inclinations; General Talbot has acted a very unwiſe Part, to give way to ſuch a Paſſion; and as for the Counteſs of Devonſhire, I would adviſe your Majeſty to make Love to her with Trumpets ſounding tho' ſhe was to be poiſon'd within a Quarter of an Hour after. Whilſt he was talking thus, the King remain'd in a ruminating Poſture, without anſwering a Word, and ſoon after return'd to his Palace.

Immediately after Dinner, he went to pay a Viſit to his Miſtreſs, whom he preſented with a very rich Jewel; it was an Excellent Piece of Engraving upon a large Ruby of a moſt exquiſite Luſtre; beſides which there was a fine Diamond cut in the Shape of a Heart; the whole Deviſe repreſented a Moon in a vaſt Sea, with this In⯑ſcription, She cauſes my Calms and my Tempeſts. He told her at the ſame time a thouſand engaging things, conjuring her, for the future, not to load him with Reproaches he deſerved not. The Marchioneſs receiv'd it with equal Demonſtra⯑tions of Joy and Acknowledgment: She was over⯑jy'd to find the Deviſe apply'd to her; not⯑withſtanding which, with Tears in her Eyes, ſhe made ſome few gentle Reflections upon the King. And he, thinking he had done enough for one [68] Day would not urge her at that time, to diſcover to him the Perſons who had given her information of theſe things; tho' at the ſame time he continu'd in his Reſolution of finding it out. It was ſo late, before all the Articles of Peace were well regulated, that they Supp'd together. When the Earl came to pay his Reſpects to the King, and found himſelf at full Liberty, to ſpeak his Senti⯑ments, My thinks, ſaid he to the King, I ſee in your Eyes, the Conqueſt of Madam Elizabeth Lucy, and the Defeat of my Lady Devonſhire. No, re⯑ply'd he, you are miſtaken in your Sight: There is ſtill remaining in my Heart, a very agreeable Idea, I am not able to efface ſo ſoon as I would. But, Sir, ſaid the Earl, dare I take the Liberty, to ask your Majeſty if really you could wiſh it ſo? The King, after pauſing a while, reply'd, I don't very well know what I could wiſh, for I imagine to my ſelf an abſolute Felicity in pleaſing the Counteſs; but on the other Hand am diſſatisfy'd with her, and fear, leſt Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy ſhould die for Vexation, unleſs ſhe has the Preference before the other. What then intend you to do, Sir, ſaid the Earl? I am reſolved to talk with my Lady Devonſhire, added the King. This being the very thing the Earl dreaded moſt, either for fear of the Noiſe ſuch a Viſit would make in the World or the Jealouſy the Duke of Devonſhire might conceive thereat, or out of a juſt Appre⯑henſion, leſt the Counteſs might be overtaken with the Deſerts and Grandure of this young Monarch: But on which ſide ſoever he conſider'd it, it appear'd very dangerous to him. Sir, ſaid he, you may write to the Counteſs, to let her know, that, unleſs ſhe will find out ſome Oppor⯑tunity for you to ſee her, you know how to pitch upon a Time your ſelf, let the Conſequence to her prove what it will. By this Means you will oblige [69] her to act with all poſſible Diligence, and to ſur⯑mount all Obſtacles: You may ſee her without making a Noiſe in the World, and you may ſave both your Miſtreſſes. The King lik'd his Advice, being well pleas'd not to give any real Occaſion of Pain to one, whilſt he ſought to pleaſe the other.

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

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

The Earl being extreamly glad to ſee himſelf Maſter of a Key, that could give him Entrance into the Garden, now expected, with the utmoſt Impatience, the next favourable Opportunity to make uſe of it; when the King ſent him a Meſſen⯑ger, before Day break, to order him to come to Court, He made all the haſte he could, and found the King already in his Cloſet, much di⯑ſturbed [70] at the News he had received, that King Henry, his Rival, had obtain'd a certain Number of Troops from the Queen of Scots, beſides 2000 French Auxiliaries ſent him by that King, at the Interceſſion of Renault d' Anjou, King of Sicily, his Father-in-law; with the Queen, (that Amazon of our Age) at the Head of them. They have by this time join'd all their Forces ſaid he to the Earl, and are preparing to march againſt ours: Go then, and with all poſſible ſpeed join your Brother in order to make a powerful Oppoſition againſt the Efforts of the Enemy. The Earl uſed always to ſhew a great deal of Satisfaction, when⯑ever he was to leave London on account of ap⯑pearing in Arms for the King; but upon this Occaſion he was too ſenſible, how much the God⯑deſs of Love, prevailed over the God of War. The King much ſurprized at his Silence and heavy Countenance, What is the matter, ſaid he, you are ſo much alter'd that I ſcarce know you; it ſeems as if you were troubled at the Choice I have made? No, Sir, ſaid he, I am very ſenſible of your Goodneſs, and am reſolv'd to acquit my ſelf ſo well of my Duty, that you ſhall have no Reaſon to repent of having preferr'd my Services to the reſt. Ah! ſaid the King, I find how it is; you are in Love? You have found nothing, Sir, reply'd the Earl, with a Smile, I am preparing to obey your Orders. He went ſtraightways home, but full of Trouble and Vexation. He ſent Berincour to ſpeak with Albine, and to promiſe her any thing ſhe could deſire in the World, provided ſhe would find out but a few favourable Moments, wherein he might bid Adieu to his Fair Miſtreſs. She left no Stone unturn'd to do it; but in ſpite of all her Care and Induſtry, no Opportunity did offer, and my Lady Devonſhire would not give a helping Hand to procure one. He writ her a Letter as [71] full of Paſſion as Reſpect, unto which, after ſome Irreſolution, ſhe return'd an Anſwer; wiſhing him a Happy Journey, and a Fortunate Cam⯑paign.

Of this ſhe was even ready to repent, as ſoon as it was done; and told Albine, What would be⯑come of me, ſhould this Billet be intercepted? 'Tis not enough for one to be Innocent; but one ought to act ſo, as not to appear blameable to any. Madam, reply'd the old Governeſs, you torment your ſelf with things at a great Diſtance: Don't you know, that you have always reaſon enough to be ſati [...]fy'd within your ſelf, if you have acted no⯑thing that is really blameable? But, Good God, Albine, continu'd the Counteſs, How can I be ſo? Was it fitting for me to write to my Lord of Warwick? In ſhort, could I wiſh the Earl of Devonſhire now to be my Confident. This and ſuch like Diſcourſe paſs'd betwixt them, whilſt her Letter was deliver'd to the Earl, who was ſo delighted therewith that for a time he could read nothing elſe but that.

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

Whilſt the unfortunate King Henry was endea⯑vouring to ſave himſelf by Flight, Queen Marge⯑ret, his Spouſe, who had, during the Battel out⯑braved all Dangers, ſeeing all loſt, thought now [72] of nothing ſo much as the Preſervation of the Prince of Wales. This young Infant being now to her, the Deareſt thing ſhe had left in the World, ſhe took him before her on Horſe-back, and making the beſt of her Way to a ſpacious Foreſt, lay conceal'd there for ſeveral Days, never ſtirring forward but in the dark of the Night: But what ſhould they do for Suſtenance? the Foreſt afforded nothing but ſome wild Fruits, and the Child not being able to reſiſt much longer, the Want of wholeſome Nouriſh⯑ment, and the great Fatigues it had endured, the diſconſolate Mother ſent up her moſt ſervent Prayers to Heaven, and imagining that nothing could be ſuper-added to her preſent Miſery, in travelling forward fell in among a Gang of Highway-men, who at firſt appear'd not a little ſurpriz'd at their meeting with a Lady of ſo Majeſtick an Air, and in ſo magnificent an Attire in ſo ſolitary a Place; notwithſtanding which, they ſtripp'd her to her very Peticoat; but a Conteſt ariſing betwixt them, about the ſha⯑ring of the Rich Jewels they had taken from her, whilſt they were preparing to fight for the Booty, ſhe laid hold of this favourable Opportunity to make her Eſcape: So taking her Son in her Arms, ſhe run, (notwithſtanding this Burthen which Love render'd light to her) into an adjacent Wood. Here wandring about, till all her Strength fail'd her, ſhe was forc'd to lay down upon the Ground: 'Tis in this Place my Dear Child, ſaid ſhe to the Prince, bathing him with her Tears, and ſqueezing him betwixt her Arms, 'Tis here the Queen of England, and the Heir to the Crown muſt end their Lives. She had ſcarce ſpoken theſe Words, when one of the Highway-men paſſing by the Place alone, where this Princeſs utter'd her Lamentations, ſhe took Courage, and told him, Take, my Friend, [73] [...]ake this Child, ſaid ſhe, preſenting to him the [...]rince, ſave the King's Son. This Man touch'd with Compaſſion and Reſpect, received with much Satisfaction, this dear Pledge from this Princeſſes Hands, who being ſupported by him, made ſhift to get to a River, where ſhe em⯑bark'd aboard a Veſſel, which carry'd her to [...]luyce, from whence ſhe went to Bruges, leaving her Son behind her in that Place, for fear he ſhould not be able to undergo the Fatigues of a long Journey ſhe intended to take, to ſolicit freſh Succours of Men and Money. As for the unfortunate King Henry, he retreated into a remote Place of Wales, but finding he could not time enough reaſſemble his Friends and broken Forces, went away in diſguiſe, but was imme⯑diately after diſcovered, taken, and carry'd to London; King Edward ſhut him up in the Tower, where he endured a long Captivity.

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

Thus Matters ſtood, when the King going to a hunting Match in Oxfordſhire, happened to paſs [74] by ſo near a certain Country Seat, then inha⯑bited by the Dutcheſs Dowager of the late Duke of Bedford; Regent in France, under Henry IVth King of England, his Uncle, that he had a Curioſity of paying a Viſit to her. The Name of this Lady was Jacueline of Luxenburgh, el⯑deſt Daughter to Peter of Luxenburgh, Count of S. Pol; who, notwithſtanding the great Luſtre of her Family, had bin by the irreſiſtible Power of Love, conſtrained to condeſcend to the marrying of a private Gentleman, named Richard Rivers, and that at a time, when the moſt illuſtrious Families both in France and England, ſought for her Alliance: She had by this Gentleman ſeve⯑ral Children, and among the reſt Elizabeth Ri⯑vers, a Ladv endow [...]d with all the advantages of Mind and Body, that render a Perſon of her Age moſt Accompliſh'd. Her Parents being not Maſters of an Eſtate, ſufficient to make her ap⯑pear at Court, marry'd her to one Mr. John Grey, a Perſon no wiſe Superiour to her ſelf, and of an indifferent Eſtate; but being Natural⯑ly inclined to Jealouſy, conſtantly lived at his own Country Houſe, and when he was obliged to be at his Poſt in the Army, uſed to leave his Wife with the Dutcheſs of Bedford: He happen⯑ing to be Slain in an Engagement, whilſt ſhe was yet very Young, ſhe continued with her Mother, ſo that this Family enjoy [...]d the innocent Pleaſures of the Country, in a moſt perfect U⯑nion; though her preſent Station appear'd very different from that high Rank the Dutcheſs of Bedford was once placed in in the World; for beſides her Lords and her own Eſtate, ſhe had a yearly penſion of 240000 Crowns, a prodigious Summ in thoſe days!

The King had taken a fancy to hunt in one of the fitteſt days for that purpoſe, the Air be⯑ing [75] Gloomy, no Wind ſtirring, and without being incommoded by the Duſt or Heat; He was then attended only by the Duke of Glouceſter his Brother, and the Earl of Warwick, the reſt being left in an adjacent Wood, to expect his return thither. Madam Grey happened to be walking in a long Walk, with Thomas and Richard her two Sons, in each of her Hands; being both ſo Young and Beautiful, that they reſembled the Amours that are ſaid to be of Venus her Attendance. She was in a plain, but very neat Dreſs, and her Perſon appear'd all over extreamly enga⯑ging: Having never ſeen the King, nor any of thoſe that were along with him, the firſt thing ſhe did, was to pull a large Vail over her Face, after which, ſhe ſaluted them, but without ſtop⯑ping in the leaſt, or caſting ſo much as one Look at them. The King equally taken with her Modeſty and Beauty, notwithſtanding, he knew her no more than ſhe did him, alighted and accoſted her with that Polite and Noble Air, which diſtinguiſhes thoſe that are Maſters of it, from the common Rank of Men. After having ſaluted her, he ask'd with a Gallant Air, whether, being alone, ſhe fear'd not ſome Paris or other, ſhould act over again his Part with the fair Helen? She told him, that theſe Adventures were ſuitable only to the Age of Homer, and that in this ſolitary Place, they had neither a Paris nor a Helen. The longer the King heard her ſpeak, the more he delighted in hearing her, and asking after the Dutcheſs of Bedford, un⯑derſtood beyond Expectation, that Madam Grey was her Daughter.

As they came nearer to the Houſe, the Dutch⯑eſs, who look'd out of a Window of her Clo⯑ſet, was not a little ſurprized to ſee her Daugh⯑ter betwixt the King, the Duke of Glouceſter [76] and the Earl of Warwick: She went out to meet them, and to pay her Reſpects to the young King, which Madam Grey perceiving, was under no ſmall Confuſion, conſidering ſhe had not paid him the Reſpect due to his Perſon. He, who took No⯑tice of every thing ſhe did, ſoon gueſſing at her Thoughts, told her a thouſand Engaging and Gallant things upon that Head, and that with ſo much Vivacity of Wit, that ſhe never had met with any thing Comparable to it in all her Life: But, this ſo agreeable a Converſation laſted not long, the King turning on a ſudden very penſive, in ſpite of all his Endeavours againſt it: However, he took up the two young Sons of the young Window, and beſtow'd his Caraſſes upon them, whilſt his Looks were very attentively fix'd upon the Mother. The Earl of Warwick not ſo much prepoſſeſs'd as the King, talk'd with the Dutcheſs of Bedford, and at the ſame time, took particular Notice of his growing Paſſion. He conjured the two Ladies to come to London; I aſſure you, ſaid he to the Dutcheſs of Bedford, That the Dutcheſs of York will be overjoy'd to ſee you again, you having paſs'd the beſt of your days together; it is but rea⯑ſonable, you ſhould both recal thoſe times to your Memory, and that, now I am King, I may do that for your Children, that I was not in a Con⯑dition to do, whilſt I was yet Earl of Marche. Madam Bedford and Grey, return'd their Thanks with all the Marks of Acknowledgments, and the King fearing, leſt Notice might be taken of the Satisfaction he took in the Company of theſe Ladies, he took leave, though with much Re⯑luctancy; but could not forbear to ſpeak a thouſand times of the fair Widow, as an en⯑tire Piece of Perfection.

[77] Some few days after, he told the Earl of War⯑wick, ſhe had made ſo lively an Impreſſion upon him, that he could not live unleſs he ſaw her a⯑gain; and yet he feared to diſpleaſe her, if he ſhould come thither again ſo ſoon; deſiring him there⯑fore, to conſider of ſome way or other to bring them to Court. The Earl, who had a very piercing Wit, told the King, that, the whole Family having no conſiderable Eſtate, the on⯑ly way would be to beſtow ſome Preferments upon the Father and Brother of Madam Grey, and a Penſion upon her Children, to be bred at Court, and a Place upon the Dutcheſs of Bed⯑ford, under the Dutcheſs of York; And, that, Madam Grey engaged by all theſe Favours done to her Family, would eaſily quit her Solitude, to enjoy the Pleaſures of the World. The King reliſhing the Earl's Advice, in a little time heap'd Favours upon Favours upon that Family: The Dutcheſs of Bedford with her Husband and Children came to London; but the young Wi⯑dow, who was the Perſon moſt deſired there, remain'd in the Country. The King vex'd to the Heart at her Abſence, went on purpoſe to fetch her; He made her a thouſand Reproaches, on account of her Indifferency; but at the ſame time, omitted nothing that might engage her to come to Court: You are too dangerous, Sir, ſaid ſhe to him, with a gay and moſt charming Air; Hitherto my Vertue was never put to the Try⯑al, living alone at my own Home at the Bot⯑tom of a Village, intent upon nothing but how to pleaſe my Husband, and to lament his loſs. I have ſeen nothing hitherto that gave me the leaſt Occaſion of Fear; But, I am very ſenſible Sir, ſhould I ſee you often, I ſhould have great Occaſion to dread you; I am alſo no leſs ſen⯑ſible, that my Virtue will never ſtoop ſo low, [78] as to be your Miſtreſs, and that my Fortune is not exalted enough to aſpire to a Throne; I diſcloſe, continued ſhe, to your Majeſty at once, what another perhaps would not have told you till after ſome years: But, I ſhall at leaſt have this Satisfaction, not to give you any Cauſe of Vexation, by entertaining you with vain Hopes.

The King, who was not uſed to be ſo frankly dealt withal, having pauſed a little upon the Matter, told her, She might expect every thing from her Deſerts; That he could never be Hap⯑py without her; That he would give his Pro⯑miſe to marry her, but that it muſt be kept ſecret, and not to be diſcloſed upon any account whatever; ſince he had as yet many Enemies, who would not fail to improve his Marriage with her to his Diſadvantage; That therefore he Conjured her, to put Confidence in the Word of a Prince, who adored her, and that, unleſs ſhe came to London, he was reſolved to find her out every day in the Country. The Lady look'd upon this Condeſcenſion in the King, [...] not rejecting her Propoſition of en⯑gaging in ſo unequal a Match, as ſo ſignal a Favour, that ſhe had no longer Power to refuſe to come to Court, where ſhe came to live with the Dutcheſs of Bedford her Mother. The ſe⯑veral Viſits the King had made to this fair Wi⯑dow, the ſatisfaction he expreſs'd at her coming to London, together with the Care he took in fitting up her Lodgings, occaſioned an extream Jea⯑louſy in Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy. On the other Hand, Madam Grey, who had no leſs her own Intereſt in view, judged it very requiſite to en⯑gage the Earl of Warwick on her ſide, which ſhe effected by giving him peculiar Marks of her Eſteem, and Confidence in him, ſuch, as ſhe was ſenſible he could do no otherwiſe than re⯑pay [79] with Acknowledgment; She Conjured him, to cultivate for ever a ſtrict Friendſhip with her, and to give her ſome inſight concerning thoſe Perſons ſhe ought to fear moſt.

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

[80] The Counteſs of Angleſey, who narrowly ob⯑ſerved all the Actions of her Daughter, did not impart to any body Living, the Surprize ſhe was in, to find ſo ſtrange an Alteration in her Daugh⯑ter; but reſolved to diſcourſe her upon that Point, believing, that, conſidering her tender Age, and moſt excellent Education, ſhe would not fail to make an ingenuous Confeſſion: So, without inſiſting upon any further Preliminaries in the Matter, ſhe took her Daughter one day into the Garden, at an Hour when it was yet too Hot to take much Diverſion in walking for any conſiderable time, and leaning upon her, went into the Grotto, under Pretence of being ſcorch⯑ed by the Heat of the Sun, and of having a Mind to reſt a little there; but in effect, to talk to her in that Place with the more freedom. 'Tis impoſſible for me, ſaid my Lady Angleſey, as ſoon as they were ſeated, to ſee you any longer in the Condition you are in, without asking the reaſon of it; I don't do this out of Curioſity, or Severity, to make you ſtand in awe of me; no, my Dear Daughter, my Intention is not either to chide, or to reproach you; 'Tis an ea⯑ſie Matter for one of your Age, to commit a Fault, that is perhaps not well underſtood; I aim at nothing elſe, than to provide you with Arms to encounter it; I would be acquainted with your Pain, with an intention to eaſe it: Believe me, Daughter, that in laying open your Heart to me, you run not the leaſt hazard; but in ſhutting it up againſt me, you are in great Danger: Give me Entrance there, and be not a⯑fraid, leſt if I ſhould meet there with a Stranger, I little look for, it ſhould either ſurprize or raiſe me into a Paſſion; I will mingle my Tears with yours, I will be to you inſtead of a Shield, to protect you againſt the moſt dangerous Darts [81] of an Enemy, whom perhaps you alone are too weak to reſiſt.

Whilſt ſhe was a talking, the young Counteſs was Ruminating what anſwer to give her, and what was beſt to be done in ſo preſſing a Caſe as this; She knew very well, her Mother to be a Woman of great Senſe and Penetration, ſhe knew her to be [...]aughty, poſitive in her Opi⯑nion, and one who would not be removed from what ſhe had once conceived to be true, let her ſay what ſhe would: But, to Sacrifice the Earl of Warwick, was ſuch an affliction, her Heart could not in the leaſt conſent to, ſince this Con⯑feſſion muſt for ever Rob her of the Pleaſures of ſeeing him. After all, her Mother's Diſcourſe drawing to a Concluſion, an anſwer muſt be given, unleſs ſhe would make her ſelf appear Guilty by her Silence. She took immediately a Reſolution what to do, and throwing herſelf at her Mothers Feet, Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, I own my ſelf Guilty of a great Crime, in not having immediately revealed to you a Thing, wherein I ought to have had Recourſe to your Conduct; 'Tis that alone I blame my ſelf for, being for the reſt ſufficiently Proof againſt any Impreſſions con⯑trary to my Duty. I will then confeſs to you in all ſincerity, That which puts me into ſo Me⯑lancholy a Humour of late, is, that I am ſo cloſe⯑purſued by the King; You will diſcover in this Letter his Sentiments for me, and mine for his Perſon; You will be ſenſible of his Deſign, of noiſing the Matter abroad, I tremble at the Miſ⯑fortune of my Father and Husband; I lived in Hopes, to tire him out by my Rigorous Pro⯑ceedings, without provoking his Anger; But, Madam, ſee, ſee how angry he is! With theſe Words, She put the King's laſt Letter into her Mother's Hands, (which was delivered to her by [82] Albine) who having Peruſed it, burſt out into Tears for Joy; and embracing her Daughter, My Dear Child, ſaid ſhe to her, don't fear any Man living, we are too Happy in ſo Vertuous a Daughter; How few are there, that would not be puff'd up with the Paſſion of ſon Amia⯑ble a King? But how dangerous it is to truſt him; You ſee his unfaithfulneſs to the Fair E⯑lizabeth Lucy, and the lovely Madam Grey; both which he loved ſo Paſſionately, being Charm'd with their Beauties: Reſt ſatisfy'd, That you would not be in a Condition to fix him as well they, becauſe they have much more Cunning, and underſtand the Affairs of the World much better than you: Let, let the King alone, tho' at the Peril of all our Lives. The good Mother ſpoke theſe Words with a great deal of Paſſion, and affording a free Courſe to her Tears, the young Counteſs could not refrain to do the ſame: She remain'd all this while at her Feet, and were laying over the Matter with a great deal of Vehemency; when the Earls of Angleſey and Devonſhire entred the Grotto.

They were ſurprized to find them in this Po⯑ſture; the Counteſs of Angleſey perceived it, and judging rightly, that nothing could prove more prejudicial to her Daughter, than if the Earl of Devonſhire ſhould get it into his Head, that ſhe had bin reprimanding her Daughter concern⯑ing her ill Conduct, eſpecially, ſince ſhe knew him to have conceived ſome Jealouſy already, at the Accidental meeting of her Daughter with the King in the Forreſt, and that he had told ſome hard and reflecting Words to her upon that account; She deſired the Earls of Angieſey and Devonſhire, to give attention to what ſhe was a going to diſcover to them: You will, I don't doubt, continued ſhe, Commend the Coun⯑teſs [83] of Devonſhire, for her firmneſs and ſincerity: Look here upon this Letter from the King, (ſhe Communicated to me) full of Threats, in caſe ſhe continues to treat him with Indifferency. The Earl of Devonſhire took the Letter, a Colour riſing in his Face, which ſufficiently diſcover'd his Uneaſineſs; and being well acquainted with the Character of his Maſter, had the ſatisfaction of being an Eye Witneſs of his Complaints: He told my Lady Angleſey, he never queſtioned his Wives Conduct, knowing the Sincerity and good Inclinations of her Heart; and that it was an Action worthy herſelf, to prefer her Duty to all the Airy Ideas of Greatneſs. The Earl of Angleſey on his ſide, was not able to expreſs his ſatisfaction; The young Coun⯑teſs ſaid little, but at that Juncture ſecretly blamed herſelf, for not Sacrificing the Earl of Warwick, in the ſame manner as ſhe had done the King.

Their Converſation being over, ſhe retired in⯑to her Apartment, to tell Albine every thing that happened; She fail'd not to give immediate Notice thereof to the Earl of Warwick, who judged, not without great reaſon, that the Coun⯑teſs and her Family would now not ſtay longer in London, ſince every thing would appear ſuſpi⯑cious there, and that he muſt prepare for a moſt Cruel Separation: What he had foreſeen, came ſoon to paſs; The Earl of Devonſhire told his Father-in-law, That, ſince the King would not be eaſily repulſed, the beſt means to make him to think no more of the Counteſs, would be to let her Mother carry her along with her to Twit⯑tenham; and his Advice being fully approved by the Earl of Angleſey, every thing neceſſary for their Departure was got ready with great ſe⯑crecy. In the mean while, the King continuing [84] to labour under no ſmall uneaſineſs, would fain have Viſited my Lady Devonſhire, nor would he have delay'd the Matter, had it not bin on ac⯑count of Madam Grey, for whom his Paſſion ga⯑thered new ſtrength every day; and the Earl of Warwick left nothing undone on his ſide, to per⯑ſuade the King, that nothing could be more Beau⯑tiful, nor more fit to be Beloved than her; every Word of hers he Repreſented to the utmoſt ad⯑vantage, and made the niceſt Remarks upon what ſhe never ſaid, nay, what ſhe perhaps never thought of.

The Counteſs of Devonſhire being told by her Mother, that they intended to carry her into the Country, was moſt ſenſibly afflicted at this piece of News; She diſcloſed her Pain to Albine, but forbid her at the ſame time to let the Earl of Warwick know of it. But the Treacherous old Governeſs having but little regard to her Miſtreſſes Orders, not only diſcovered the Matter to him, but alſo gave him to underſtand, that her Miſtreſs would not be able to bid him Farewell, unleſs ſome unforeſeen Opportunity ſhould offer it ſelf. The Earl was ready to run diſtracted at this piece of News, and walking very faſt up and down the Room, when the General came in abruptly, looking very heavy and melancholy. Ah! my Lord, ſaid he, I have heard ſomething, that much diſturbs my Mind; My Lady Devonſhire is to go along with my Lady Angleſey to Twittenham, I have it under her own Hand, but what is worſt of all, is, that there is a ſuſpicion of an Inter⯑view betwixt us; So, that being the occaſion of her Lord's jealouſy, and of the ſeverity of her Mother, I am reſolved to ſee her no more. What a Change of Fortune is this, for a Man who was ſo very Happy but lately! I Compaſſionate you, reply'd the Earl, but after all, you are fully aſſured [85] of being Beloved. That is but a ſlender Comfort, reply'd the General. Perhaps it will not be long before ſhe returns, ſaid the Earl, and imagine how acceptable that will prove to you. Rather imagine, cry'd he, what I am to ſuffer during her abſence: I am to ſee her to Morrow to take my leave of her, and this faithful Limner has bin forced to take a great deal of Pains to procure me that happy Moment. The Earl Congratulated him, and his Head being too full to permit him to detain the General by inſignificant queſtions, He only told him, That he was as much concerned at this Miſhap as if it were his own, and that he hoped that he would do him ſo much juſtice, as to believe that he was as ſenſibly touch'd with it as himſelf co [...]ld be.

So ſoon as he was at Liberty, he made uſe of all his Wit and Charms, which he knew how to make appear in their utmoſt Luſtre when he reſolved to do it, to perſuade the Counteſs, That if ſhe departed without permitting him to ſee her, he ſhould infallibly die of Grief. She being moſt ſenſibly touch'd with the tender and ſubmiſſive Expreſſions of this Letter would perhaps have bin inclinable enough to afford him this Favour, but knew not how to hazard a thing of that Conſequence, in a Houſe which then contained ſo numerous a Family; She conſulted about the Matter the ſame Evening with Albine. The old Governeſs had ſcarce Patience enough to hear the Counteſs putting her in Mind of the Jealouſy and Courage of the Earl of Devonſhire, and that in caſe the Earl of Warwick ſhould be diſcovered, he would be but ſcurvily uſed. Albine, I ſay, having a greater ſhare of Avarice than Prudence, reply'd, Let the worſt come to the worſt, the Earl might pretend he was ſent thither by the King, and ſo he need not fear any ill uſage, ſince that would be [86] the way to provoke the King to the higheſt de⯑gree. The Counteſs did not give her Conſent, without a great deal of Reluctancy, having ob⯑ſerved for ſeveral days laſt paſt, that they were more jealous of her than formerly, and knowing, that upon the leaſt ſuſpicion, the whole Family would take the Alarm: But, how eaſie is it to overcome a young Woman prepoſſeſs'd in the Favour of him ſhe likes! Albine promiſed to re⯑move all obſtacles, adding, That the Earl of Warwick would infallibly die for Grief, if he ſhould be made ſenſible of her poſitiveneſs in this point; And there needed no more to convince the Coun⯑teſs, that ſhe might ſee him without much dan⯑ger.

You will eaſily imagine, he would not miſs the Aſſignation, for though that was to be late at Night, he fail'd not to riſe very early in the Morning, and ſuch was his impatience, that he thought the day would never be at an end: What did not he ſay to the Sun! Every thing a Lover was capable of, in his Amorous Frenzies. He call'd Night a Thouſand times to his Aid, and no ſooner had the Sky covered it ſelf with its Black Vail, but wrapt up in a Cloak, and at⯑tended only by his faithful Berincour, he comes to the little Garden Gate, not queſtioning but that his new Key, which he had never try'd before, would open it without Trouble: But all this Care and Pains proved fruitleſs; for the Key broke in the Lock. What was now to be done after ſuch a miſhap? Nothing elſe but to get over the Wall, or elſe to return from whence he came. But, as he would rather have choſen to die in attempting the firſt, than to free himſelf from all danger by the laſt, ſo, without heſitating upon the Matter, he Clambred up to the top, as he had done once before, and was juſt upon the point [87] of leaping into the Garden, when he ſaw abun⯑dance of People with Flambeaux, who appear'd as if they were ſearching after ſomething. In ef⯑fect my Lady Angleſey having loſt the Pourtrai⯑ture of the Dutcheſs of York ſhe conſtantly wore on her Arm had not perceived it till after it was Dark, and having cauſed, but in vain, to ſearch all the Apartments, ſhe ordered all the Walks of the Garden to be narrowly view'd, for fear the weight of the Gold and Diamonds might make it ſink into the Sand.

As all the Domeſticks were not equally intent upon the Matter, ſome, who happened to look upwards, perceived the Earl of Warwick juſt ready to leap into the Garden; and not doubting but that he was a Thief cry'd out as faſt as they could. The Earl ſeeing there was no better way to chooſe, than to retire in all haſte; But, his Gen⯑tleman being at ſome diſtance, as not imagining he would return ſo ſoon, he was forced to get down without his Aſſiſtance; ſo that by a Fall, he Wounded his Arm, in ſo much, that he thought it had bin broken: But, though it proved ex⯑ceſſive Painful, he made all the haſte he could, to get away from that fatal Place, where he had flat⯑tred himſelf to get Sight of his ſo dearly Beloved Lady: He walk'd very faſt, and ſometimes look⯑ing behind him, would ask his Gentleman, whe⯑ther they were purſued by any body? This being overheard by a certain Perſon that paſs'd by accidentally, and he believing them to be Thieves, gave Notice thereof to the Watch, who fell upon, and ſurrounded them before they could make uſe of their Swords to defend themſelves. The Leader of the Watch, being a Brutiſh Fel⯑low and Drunk, ask'd the Earl, who he was, from whence he came, and where he intended to go? It was thought fit to return him no anſwer, [88] partly out of diſdain, partly out of neceſſity not to make a Noiſe they being as yet but at a little diſtance from the Garden, and they ſuppoſed, as actually it happened that the Earls of Angleſey and Devonſhire knew by this time, there had bin ſome body ſeen upon the Wall: Beſides, ſome going to take a view of the little Gate of the Garden, and finding a Key broken within the Lock, this cauſed no ſmall uneaſineſs in the Fa⯑mily, and the Matter being canvaſs'd over and over, the Earl of Devonſhire diſcovered ſomewhat of a Secret Jealouſy. The poor Counteſs, ſaw her Projects vaniſh into Smoak, and the neceſſity of departing, rendred her almoſt inconſolable; Beſides, ſhe durſt not diſcover her Trouble, ſo that, though ſhe conceal'd it as much as ſhe could, yet there appear'd in her Eyes a certain Emotion, which might eaſily have bin obſerved.

But to return to the Earl of Warwick, who finding himſelf ſurrounded by the Watch, thought it his beſt way to get rid of them, by beſtow⯑ing a good Handful of Money upon the Leader, not queſtioning, but that ſo he might be diſ⯑miſs'd, without being put to the trouble of diſcovering his Name: He had fill'd his Pockets with Gold Pieces he intended for Albine; but miſſing of her, offer'd them to the Leader of the Watch: But his Profuſedneſs proved miſchievous to him; for this Man, now judging they had com⯑mitted ſome great Robbery, and perceiving him to be Wounded in the Arm, and to be very careful in hiding his Face, was reſolved to detain him, it being a Cuſtom here, to ſtop and keep in Cu⯑ſtody all ſuch as will not diſcover themſelves, if they are met by the Watch in the Night time. There are certain Benches faſtned on every Corner of London Streets, to the Walls of the Houſes, whereon ſuch as are taken upon Suſpi⯑cion [89] are to ſit, with their Legs put thro' certain Holes made in two Boards, fitted and joyn'd one above the other; a Diverſion not very well agreeing with thoſe who are uſed to more conve⯑nient Seats. The Earl perceiving what Quarters were prepared for him once more took the Head of the Watch aſide, and told him, That if he would not put him into that Place, but let him go, he would entruſt him with his Name, and that he was the Earl of Warwick: Upon this, the Head Officer, who did not take Notice of his Garter, nor of the Embroidered Star the Knights of that Order always wear upon their Coats, not doubting but that he was an Impoſture, Go, ſaid he, did not I ſuſpect thee before to be a Rogue? Thy Impudence to aſſume the Name of ſo Great a Man, fully convinces me of it: And ſo, without hearkning any further to his Diſcourſe, he put his Legs into the Stocks, with a Reſolution to carry both him and his Gentleman to my Lord Warwick, as ſoon as it ſhould be day-light.

I give you leave to gueſs at the Confuſion he was in upon ſo odd an Accident. Did ever ſince the beginning of the World, ſaid he to Berincour, happen any Adventure like this? I would be tolerably well contented, had I but taken my Leave of the Counteſs; but now am ſo unfortunate, as not to be able to ſee her before ſhe is carry'd into the Country: Beſides that, the Wound I have in my Arm will require ſome time to be cured; ſo, that all the unlucky Accidents ſeems now to center in mine. I defy thee, Ca⯑pricious Fortune, cry'd he, to treat me worſe than thou haſt done. However, after ſome ſhort Re⯑flections, added he, Who is it in all England that would not chooſe to be in my Place, and be at this very time where I am now, ſeated upon a [90] Bench at the Corner of a Street, with my Legs put through ſo many Holes, and lock'd cloſe within the Boards? And this is the Station, thoſe who would wiſh themſelves in my Place, muſt be in, in ſpite of themſelves: For, I can aſſure you, I am here contrary to my Inclinations. My Lord, ſaid his Gentleman, this will be over by Day⯑light, and he that could be my Lord Warwick upon this Condition, would have no ill Bargain of it for the remainder of his Life. I know not what you may think of it, ſaid he, as for my Part, I would rather chooſe to be a Porter; for he Works all Day, and at Night reliſhes the Pleaſures of a ſweet Tranquillity, more than a General after the gaining of a Battel; he has no Maſter, and conſequently is under no conſtraint of pleaſing him; has he a Miſtreſs, he goes to ſee her with⯑out controul; he enjoys Health, and is never without a good Appetite; if his Wife's obſtrope⯑rous, he beats her into good Manners; he dreads neither the Great Ones nor the Thieves, his For⯑tune is always in the ſame Station; his Prince knows not whether there be ſuch a Man upon Earth, and that Place is the beſt to him where he can live beſt. Now what Compariſon is there betwixt ſuch a Man and a Courtier, ſuch as I am? Such as you are, my Lord, cry'd Berincour, was ever a Man born under a more Fortunate Planet. The King ſtands indebted to you for his Crown, and all what he can do for you, is below what you have done for him. I am nevertheleſs to be pity'd at this time, reply'd the Earl, and I can't but ad⯑mire the Capriciouſneſs of Fortune; it ſeems to me as if Caprice and Chance play againſt one another for us Mortals, and that they decide our Fate at their own Pleaſure. They were thus talk⯑ing together to divert their Spleen, when they heard not far from thence, ſome Body cry out [91] Murder, Watch, Help! The Watch Gang, being not far off, run immediately that way, and in a moment after, brought hither a Man who ap⯑pear'd to be very refractory.

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

Whoever thou art, ſaid the Earl of Warwick to him, that haſt occaſion to try the ſame Fate with mine, pray tell me, how did'ſt thou fancy to get out of the Hands of theſe Myrmidons? By telling them you were the General Talbot? And thou, who art ſo curious and importunate, returns he, what makes thee ask ſo unſeaſonable a Queſtion, ſince thou had'ſt Confidence enough thy ſelf to aſſume the Name of the Earl of Warwick? The Earl was ſo well pleas'd with this Anſwer, that he could not refrain from laughing, and his Laughter having ſomething in it that was pe⯑culiar and eaſie to be diſtinguiſh'd. I now am ſenſible, continued the Perſon that ſpoke before, why thou did'ſt make Uſe of his Name, becauſe thou laugheſt very like him. Thou art in the right on't, ſaid my Lord Warwick, I have bin often flattered, that I was like him, and at a Pinch one lays hold of every thing: But, continu'd he, tho' thou did'ſt act by the ſame Motives as I did, pray tell me, What made thee imagine thou could'ſt get [92] off by taking upon thee the Name of General Talbot, becauſe there was not the leaſt Probability in this Pretence▪ I made uſe of the firſt Name that came into my Head, reply'd the other. I am ſorry, ſaid the Earl, you did not pitch upon that of the Earl of Warwick, as well as my ſelf, that we might have ſeen who had the beſt Title to it. The other Priſoner made no further Anſwer, and the Earl only ſaid with a low Voice to his Gentl⯑eman, That when the Watch came by the next time, they would try once more whether they could get out of this troubleſome Place.

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

The Watch being gone, they both gave a great Cry at the ſame time, and taking each other by the Hand, How! Is it you? How! Is it you, ſaid they: What happened to me, added the General, is paſt all belief; were we alone, I would eaſe my [93] ſelf in telling you my Adventure. You may reſt aſſured, ſaid the Earl, that the third Perſon here, is both Deaf and Dumb, when ever I think fit; and that is enough to ſecure you againſt any thing from him. I am ſo impatient to relate it to you, reply'd the General, that upon your Word I am a going to tell you the whole Story.

‘'You are not unacquainted with that Paſſion I have bin entangled in for ſome time paſs'd, I, I ſay, who had kept my ſelf free from it, all my Life time before: I was not ſenſible of the Effects it would produce in my Heart, and con⯑ſequently ſo little feared the Conſequences there⯑of, that I cheriſh'd it as my greateſt Happineſs. 'Tis true, the Obſtacles I met with to ſee the Counteſs of Devonſhire, appear'd to me ſo full of Difficulty and Trouble, that I was reſolv'd to cure and deſpiſe my Frailty: But this unfortu⯑nate Painter, having in ſome meaſure dived into my true Sentiments, and found by Experience, that a Perſon of my Temper, was the fitteſt Object of encreaſing his Fortune, came to me, to facilitate, as he ſaid, every thing for an Inter⯑view betwixt the Counteſs and my ſelf. I ac⯑cepted his Offer, and it was agreed he ſhould come in a Coach to my Back-gate: I went in⯑to it, without any Attendance, being aſham'd my Domeſticks ſhould have the leaſt Suſpicion of my Extravagancy. He Conducted me into a Beautiful Garden, and thence into a Grotto, where I ſaw the Counteſs of Devonſhire; ſo full of Tenderneſs, Frankneſs and Modeſty, that being ſeized with the moſt profound Reſpect for her Perſon, I thought my ſelf only too Happy: She would afford me no other Favours than the Satisfaction of Seeing, and Sighing for her, and I inſiſted upon no more; for I deſpiſe all Women that ſuffer themſelves to be [94] withdrawn from their Duty: And not with⯑ſtanding that heighth of Paſſion I had con⯑ceived for her, I ſhould have ſhewn nothing but Averſion to her; It having at all times bin my Opinion, that Vertue and Modeſty are the Eſſential Parts of a Good Woman. She que⯑ſtionleſs had bin acquainted with my Temper, and therefore always kept herſelf within ſuch ſtrict Bounds, that ſhe would never allow me the Liberty of touching as much as her Hand, unleſs when I put ſome Rings with Precious Stones upon her Fingers: When I ſpoke to my Limner, concerning her Reſervedneſs, he told me, in his Country the Ladies were much more Cruel, and to ſpeak of an Italian Woman, and of a Tyger, was the ſame thing. I was not good Natur'd enough, to be like him, but gave him the hearing: But, to be ſhort, my Lord, you know I told you this Morning, that I was to take my leave of her to Night, ac⯑cordingly I went to the Grotto, attended by by my old Guide, where I found the Counteſs; but in a Moment after, ſaw come in an antient Man, follow'd by Four luſty Young Men well Arm'd; The Father, without taking any No⯑tice of me, turning to his Daughter, Unfor⯑tunate Woman, ſaid he, What could engage thee to Diſhonour our Family by thy ill Con⯑duct? Art not thou Treated both by thy Mother and my ſelf, with all the Tenderneſs thou couldſt expect under thy Circumſtances? Thy Life ſhall Pay for the Shame thou haſt made us undergo, with this, drawing his Dagger, gave her a Stab, before I could put it by, though I had my Sword drawn; but I Wounded one of the young Fellows who Aſſaulted me. I ſaw my ſelf immediately Surrounded by the Father and the other three, ſo that I found my ſelf engag'd at great odds, [95] and for whom, I give you leave to Gueſs, to wit, for an inconſiderable Jilt, who ſo nearly reſembled the Counteſs of Devonſhire, that, to find out the real difference betwixt them, one muſt be undeceived in the ſame manner as I was. I thought it therefore my beſt way to think of Retreating, and I can't tell, whether they knew me or not; But certain it is, they were not very preſſing upon me, to hinder my Re⯑treat. Thus, I had come off well enough, had it not bin for two Old Women, who, being brought thither by the Noiſe, purſued me ſo cloſely with their out-cries, that the Watch heard it. I happened to meet them at the Corner of a Street, which I croſs'd with much haſte, tho' I knew not where I was: For, my Roguiſh Italian, who ſtood Centry for me, was run a⯑way, and in all probability, will never appear no more in London, after the Game he has play'd me. But be that as it will; I ſoon ſaw my ſelf beſet on all ſides by the Watch, and having not much time to conſider how to anſwer thoſe queſtions they commonly put to thoſe they meet in the Night time, I thought it the ſhorteſt way, to be plain with them, I am ſuch a one; What a cry did they not ſet up at my Name! I know the time, when to ingratiate themſelves with General Talbot, they wou'd al⯑moſt preſs me to Death; and you may now ſee, that in the Place where I am, they have al⯑moſt done ſo in good earneſt.'’

The Earl would have bin much more Surpriz'd than now he was at this Recital, had he not known beforehand, that this Woman being a Suppoſititious Counteſs of Devonſhire, the unra⯑velling of this Intrigue was not likely to hap⯑pen without Noiſe: So that being actually pre⯑pared againſt any Surprize, he pretended ne⯑vertheleſs [96] he was, and acted his Part to the greateſt nicety. If you will follow my Advice, ſaid he, I would have you endeavour to cure your ſelf of a Paſſion, which has ſerved hitherto only to tor⯑ment you, and to impair that Great Cha⯑racter unto which you were born. 'Tis certain, ſaid the General, I was not made for theſe ſorts of Amuſements; I am ſo much aſham'd of it, that ſhould any Body elſe but your ſelf, my Lord, be acquainted with my Frailties, I ſhould not be able to endure it. You may therefore believe, that I ſhall not ſeek to nouriſh thoſe Flames I ſo much deſpiſe. As good fortune will have it, the true Counteſs is a going into the Country; I am ſure I will not go to meet her by the Way: And it ſhall not be my fault, if ever I ſee her again. But, continued he, What Chance drew you into this Ambuſh? I need not tell you, reply'd the Earl, you may be ſure it was an Aſſignation. Well, at leaſt, added the General, I hope you ſaw the Party you look'd for? No, ſaid he, and am, be⯑ſides that, much Wounded in the Arm. So we have both ſufficient cauſe of Diſſatisfaction, reply'd the General: But I wiſh I was ſo far a Conjurer as to gueſs at the Subject, and to tell in what Place we now are? As to what relates to my ſelf, re⯑ply'd the Earl, there needs no Conjurer, who deals with Hell or the Devil; 'Tis known to every Body long ago, that I am much addicted to Adventures. Don't you remember, what happened to the King and my ſelf, whilſt he was yet Earl of Marche? One ſweet Night above all the reſt being taken up by the Watch, we were forc'd to tell our Names, but they had too much ill Nature to believe us; ſo they would needs carry us to the very Lodgings of the Dutcheſs of York, who, tho' ſhe was aſleep, theſe Beaſts would needs ſpeak with her: Here, [97] Madam, ſaid they, take your Son, and keep him at home; for if we meet him again, we ſhall not bring him hither. I remember the thing, ſaid the General, and know this is not your Noviate, tho' I confeſs it is altogether a Novelty to me; and ſhould be ſorry to the Heart, if a Burleſque Account ſhould be given of a thing which is ſuffi⯑ciently ridiculous in it ſelf, and in which I have bin engaged in good earneſt. Let this matter happen as it will, ſaid the Earl, it will do you no harm.

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

This Lord more diſturb'd by his Jealouſy, than eas'd by ſleep, had not bin in Bed all that Night, [98] under pretence of giving the neceſſary Orders for their Journey: Thus he paſs'd the greateſt part of the Night in a very Ill Humour, and rais'd his Mother-in-law and Wife ſo early out of their Beds, that they paſs'd through the ſame Street, where the General and the Earl had had their Quarters, within a few Minutes after they were diſmiſs'd. The Head of the Watch was ſtill ſitting upon the ſame Bench, tearing his Hair like a Mad⯑man. The Counteſs of Angleſey compaſſionating his Condition, ſtopp'd the Coach, and call'd to him; but he refuſing to come near them, ſhe de⯑ſir'd the Earl of Devonſhire, who was on Horſe⯑back along with them, to ſpeak to him, ſince ſhe thought ſhe knew him, for he kept the Watch not far from their Houſe. Having a little recover'd himſelf, he related to the Earl of Devonſhire what Misfortune had befall'n him; ſaying, He look [...]d up⯑on himſelf as loſt for ever, and that he was re⯑ſolv'd to go out of England. The Earl could not give Credit to ſo ſtrange an Adventure; and what render'd it quite incredible to him, was, that General Talbot was mention'd in it, whom he be⯑liev'd to be much wiſer than to ramble in the Streets in the Night with the Earl of Warwick; ſo that he look'd upon the Fellow as Frenzical. He told his Opinion to the Counteſs of Angleſey, who thought the ſame; but the young Counteſs of Devonſhire, knew too well how the matter lay: Her Grief encreas'd to a high degree, when ſhe underſtood what had happen'd to the Earl, and eſpecially his being Wounded in the Arm: She endeavour'd, but in vain, to conceal it; but you might have read in her Eyes, the Secret Thoughts of her Heart. Her Mother ask'd her, what was the matter? She told her ſhe was very ill; and ſhe being ſuppos'd to be then with Child, there was no further enquiry made at that time.

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

The King was no ſooner riſen, but he ask'd for the Earl of Warwick, ſo they went to fetch him; but being told he had a Feaver, the King, who lov'd him extreamly, was not long before he gave him a Viſit in his Lodgings. He had already bin inform'd of the departure of the Counteſs of Devonſhire by Albine, whereat being moſt ſenſibly afflicted, he wanted to talk with the Earl about it. At laſt, ſaid he, they have carry'd away the Counteſs: I am ſurpriz'd at my ſelf, I ſhould re⯑lent her Loſs, after the Uſage I have receiv'd from [100] her! and therefore am apt to believe, 'tis not her Perſon, ſo much as the ſatisfaction of revenging my ſelf, which I regret at preſent. Forget her, Sir, ſaid the Earl in a Languiſhing Tone, ſhe is unworthy of your Tenderneſs, and I am ſenſible ſhe will be ſufficiently puniſh'd in the Country, for her Inconſtancy in London. That does not ſatisfy me, added the King, I will know, what it was that made her uſe me at that rate. You had better ſtay for her return, reply'd the Earl, your Majeſty knows then what to do beſt. This delay not ſuiting the King's impatient Temper, and Anger, he was ſometimes for making her to come back again; in a Moment after, for going to ſee her; and after all, he was for ſending his Favourite thither; but ſoon changing his Mind again, he was ſtruggling with theſe different Thoughts for ſeveral Days. Madam Grey was not inſenſible of this Diſtraction of his Mind, and ſhe was ſuffici⯑ently inclin'd to make her Complaints to him, but was afraid of checking the King's Paſſion, and that being us'd to ſee her in Tears ſo often, he might not regard them for the future; ſhe was of Opinion, that nothing could be of more dange⯑rous Conſequence to a Miſtreſs; and that an un⯑faithful Lover, who takes care to conceal his In⯑fidelity, is more likely to return to his former Paſſion, than one who quite breaks off upon that Score: Beſides, that the Earl, who had all along animated her Anger, was not now ſo preſſing up⯑on that Point: For he fear'd no more the King's Progreſs in this Paſſion, ſince the departure of my Lady Devonſhire; and now employ'd all his care in ſettling his own.

What Diſturbances did he not meet with in his Heart, when he conſider'd ſhe was not to come back in a conſiderable time! and that there was not the leaſt Opportunity of ſeeing her, but [101] what muſt prove very dangerous as well to her as to himſelf! and that they muſt fear every thing from the Counteſs of Angleſey, whoſe ſtrict Vertue could not permit her to diſpence with the moſt inſignificant Frailty in ſo Dear and Beau⯑tiful a Daughter. He would often ſhut himſelf up in his Cloſet, to abandon himſelf intirely to the [...]e melancholy Refections; his Grief encreas'd every Day, Albine writ to him no more; he was for trying every thing to ſee the Counteſs, or at leaſt to ſend to her his Gentleman, whom he knew to want neither Courage nor Conduct; but his fear of meeting with ſome Siniſter Accident ſtop'd his Deſigns, and betwixt theſe various Irreſoluti⯑ons, his Evil rather increas'd than decreas'd.

After the Earl of Devonſhire had left the Head-Watchman before mention [...]d, he travell'd imme⯑diately forward to a Wood, through which they muſt paſs to Twittenham; here alighting from his Horſe, he gave it to a little Page that attended him, whilſt he walk'd along the great Road with a ſlow Pace ruminating upon the Thief that had bin ſeen upon the Wall, the broken Key in the Little Garden-gate, and at laſt upon the Fancy of the Head-Watchman, who believ'd he had taken up the Earls of Warwick and S [...]op. If he had mention'd only the firſt, ſaid he, I would not in the leaſt queſtion it; but the laſt of theſe two has more Wit than to be catch'd in ſo odd an Adventure. As he was frequently looking about to ſee whether his Mother-in-law's Coach follow'd him, he obſerv'd ſomething that caſt a more than ordinary Luſtre in his Page's Hands: Drawing nearer to him he ſaw it was a large Jewel of Gold, ſet all over with precious Stones, a Piece he had often ſeen in the Earl of Warwick's Hands: He enquir'd, not without ſome diſturbance, from the Page, where he had it? He told him frankly [102] That he being one of the firſt who got into the Street, after the Thief had bin ſeen upon the Wall, the Luſtre of this Piece, made of Gold, and cover'd with Diamonds, had made him look that way, and perceiving what it was, he thought he might take and keep it. The Earl took it, and looking upon it for a conſiderable time, it at laſt ſeem'd to him of that thickneſs as to contain a double Bottom; he try'd to open it, with a ſort of uneaſineſs, whereof he already began to ſuſpect the cauſe, and being gone at ſome diſtance from the Page, at laſt open'd and found enclos'd within it, the Picture of his Lady, with theſe Words Engraven round about it, She is much better in my Heart.

At this fatal Sight he turn'd Pale, he ſhiver'd, his Soul was expos'd a Prey to the moſt cruel Reflections that could be: He lov'd my Lady Devonſhire, he was ſometimes inclin'd to juſtify her, but could not accompliſh it: For, ſaid he, the Maſter of this Jewel muſt doubtleſs be the ſame Perſon, who having got a Key to the Little-Gate of the Garden, was endeavouring to open it; but finding it broken in the Lock, ſcaladed the Wall, and afterwards run away; and the Jewel more than ſufficiently ſhews it muſt be the Earl of Warwick. What could he think after ſo many convincing Proofs, eſpecially ſince the Picture of his Lady fell into his Hands by ſo extraordinary an Accident? He was a going to abandon himſelf quite to Deſpair, when hearing the Noiſe of my Lady Angleſey's Coach, he Re-mount⯑ed his Horſe, and ſpoke only a few Words as they paſs'd by him, being reſolv'd to hide his Grief, till he had Diſcours'd her about the Matter. The little Page vex'd to the Heart, that his Maſter had kept the Jewel, could not forbear to ſpeak of it to Albine, whoſe Kinſman he was, and he extoll'd to ſuch a [103] degree the Value thereof, that the old Covetous Governeſs was heartily vex'd thereat, ſince ſhe would fain have bin Miſtreſs of it her ſelf, let the Conſequences have prov'd never ſo dange⯑rous. So ſoon as ſhe had an Opportunity of ſpeaking to her Miſtreſs, ſhe told her of this unfortunate Accident; and never were ſo many prevailing Circumſtances join'd together, to diſ⯑cover any Man, as there were here againſt the Earl of Warwick. Am I not to be pity'd, ſaid ſhe to Albine, that my Compliance with thy Advice ſhould coſt me all the Tranquillity of my Life? What was it that mov'd me to conſent, that the Earl ſhould take his Leave of me? Heavens are my Witneſs, that notwithſtanding my Inclinations for him, I would not ſave his Life by one Criminal Sigh; and ever ſince that fa⯑tal Moment when I ſaw him firſt, I have left nothing unattempted to put him out of my Mind; but finding my ſelf not in a Condition to encompaſs that, I have always ſtood upon my Guard, to obſerve my ſelf, being ſenſible that my Heart was only too much inclin'd to him. Albine! What haſt thou done, when thou did'ſt perſuade me to entertain him? This ſo Charming, and at the ſame time, ſo Dangerous Sight, made ſuch an Impreſſion upon my Soul, as encreas'd all my Pains I ſuffer'd before upon his Account. Was not I unfortunate enough, unleſs you had taken ſo much pains to ſpeak to me concerning him? Why did'ſt thou find out an Opportunity to bring him into the Houſe? His Jewel being now in my Husband's Hands, is there any room for him to doubt, but that what the Head-Watch⯑man told him is actually true? He will for the future look upon me only with Scorn, and the ſecret Reproaches I ſhall load my ſelf withal, will ſerve only to make him diſcover the Confuſion I [104] am in. You muſt not, Madam, ſaid Albine to her, torment your ſelf at that rate, it will be no hard Task for you to perſuade your whole Family, that if the Earl had attempted to come into the Garden, it muſt be by the King's Com⯑mand, and without the leaſt Knowledge of yours; and that the Ingenious Confeſſion you have made concerning his Majeſty's Sentiments, ought to be a convincing Proof, that you had not the leaſt ſhare in all that had happen'd. No, cry'd the Counteſs, I can't maintain a Lye with the ſame Confidence as I did the Truth; my Mother will read in my Eyes all what is within me: Alas! could ſhe as well diſcover there my Innocence and Misfortunes, What is it I need then to fear? Whilſt the young Counteſs was thus afflicting her ſelf, the Earl of Devonſhire, full of Impatience to impart the Secret to my Lord and my Lady Angleſey, took them into a remote Walk, and having diſcover'd to them what real cauſe of Suſpicion he had of his Wife, he ſhew'd them her Picture within the Jewel of the Earl of Warwick: The Sight thereof overwhelm'd them with Grief; they found it very difficult to ſpeak in her Juſti⯑fication; but after all, my Lady Angleſey could not reſolve to condemn her, without being hear'd; ſo ſhe deſir'd her Son-in-law, not to take the leaſt notice of it to her, till ſhe had Diſ⯑cours'd the Point with her, which was to be done the next following Day.

My Lady Devonſhire ſoon perceiv'd, that when my Lady Angleſey lock'd her ſelf up with her in a Room, this was the time ſhe was to undergo the Tryal of a moſt ſevere Inquiſition: She trembled, and the Paleneſs of her Face was an undeniable Token of her diſturb'd Thoughts. After having patiently endur'd a thouſand Reproaches, without in the leaſt interrupting the Counteſs: When ſhe [105] ſaw her Picture within the Jewel, ſhe could no longer hear, with patience, her Mother upbraiding her with having preſented it to the Earl; ſhe fell out into ſuch a Paſſion, and ſpoke upon that Head with ſo much vehemency (tho' without loſing the reſpect due to her Mother) that ſhe began to be fully convinc'd of her Innocence. My Lady Angleſey now fully ſatisfy'd of the Truth of what her Daughter had told her, promis'd to omit nothing that might conduce to make the Earl of Devonſhire to have a favourable Opinion of her. The Counteſs begg'd with Tears in her Eyes to do her what ſervice ſhe could with her Lord; ſhe was ſeveral times in a Mind to deſire the favour of her to diſmiſs Albine; but fearing leſt this malicious old Creature might ſtill more ex⯑aſperate the Earl of Devonſhire againſt her, by putting into his Head certain Malicious Con⯑ſtructions concerning her Eaſineſs, in conſenting to an Interview with him, during her Father's and Husband's Journey to York, and conſequently make the Breach wider; this prov'd the only Motive, that made her keep near her a Monſter, which could not be kept at too great a diſtance.

My Lady Angelſey not only urg'd the matter home, and with extraodinary ſtrength of Reaſon, to her Son-in law, but alſo engag'd her Word for his Wives Innocence; all the Fault being laid upon the King. And it was true in effect, that my Lady Devonſhire knew nothing of the Miſtery of this Jewel-caſe, and that no Body could have ſhew'd more Diſſatisfaction, than ſhe did at the Earl of Warwick, upon that Point: For, ſhe would often ſay to Albine, What muſt the Limner think who drew this Picture? he will certainly believe this Favour was obtain'd with my Conſent. O! Unfortunate I, cry'd ſhe, what was I a doing when I had ſo much Complaiſance as to hearken to the [106] Earl! How dearly am I likely to pay for it! I ſhall, loſe my Husband's Eſteem; he will from hence forward be always inclin'd to Jealouſy, which all my Precaution and good Conduct will not be able to remove. Oh, What ſignifies it to you, Madam, if he is jealous, ſaid Albine, provided you have nothing wherewith to reproach your ſelf? If you have committed an Error in ſomething or other, you may give a free courſe to your Tears: But, ſuppoſing the Earl of War⯑wick had your Picture, there is nothing blameable in your regard, in the Caſe: Are not the Pictures of Soveraigns ſeen every where? And don't they even make Preſents of them without being blam'd for it? Theſe general Inſtances have no relation to my particular Caſe, reply'd ſhe; a Queen may do abundance of things, which are innocent in her, would be interpreted as Criminal in me; I am neither ſo Blind, nor ſo Fool-hardy as to re⯑gulate my ſelf by ſuch like Examples. Then you have now conceiv'd a Hatred againſt the Earl, ſaid Albine? Were I come to that Point of Hating him, reply'd ſhe, I ſhould not be diſturb'd to that degree as I am; but there is ſtill a certain Re⯑membrance, and that ſo dear to me, that it follows me every where. I feel ſtill within me a Frailty not to hate him; and am in vain upon my Guard againſt my own Heart, nothing but Time and Abſence can cure me.

My Lady Devonſhire underſtood by the Counteſs of Angleſey, all what had paſs'd betwixt her and her Son-in-law. Your Conduct for the future, ſaid ſhe to her, muſt make good every thing I have engag'd for; For, my Dear Child, I had rather ſee you dead, than to find you bewitch'd to the beſt Man in the World. As I am of the ſame Opinion with you, reply'd ſhe, the greateſt favour you can do me, is to let me live in the Country; I will [107] avoid the King, I will fly the World, and I will avoid every thing, that may robb me of this Happy Tranquillity, and may make me to diſ⯑pleaſe you. My Lady Angleſey embracing her with a great deal of Tenderneſs, told her, ſhe highly approv'd her Reſolution; That it would be neceſ⯑ſary to keep at a diſtance from Court, for ſome time, and that the King would certainly forget her: But, added ſhe, has the Earl of War⯑wick no ſhare in the Intrigue? Is it poſſible he ſhould ſo far expoſe himſelf, as to get on the top of the Garden-wall, to ſuffer himſelf to be ſeiz'd by the Watch, and run the Hazard of ſo many ill Conſequences that attended it, barely to be ſer⯑viceable to his Maſter? He who a long time ago was always us'd to follow his own Inclinations, and not to obey the King's Commands any fur⯑ther than he found them ſuitable to his own ſatis⯑faction: Add to this, your Picture in his Jewel-caſe; if it was the King's, what made him keep it? 'Tis poſſible, Madam, reply'd the Counteſs, not without ſome Confuſion (ſeeing her Mother's Head ſo full of Jea⯑louſy) 'tis poſſible the King might ſtand in fear of his Miſtreſſes Curioſity, to avoid which he gave it to his Favourite. The old Counteſs ſeem'd well enough ſatisfy'd with this Reaſon, and going out of her Chamber, left the Daughter in her Cloſet entangled in a thouſand Vexations.

Ought it not have bin ſufficient for me, ſaid ſhe to her Confident, to obey with ſubmiſſion, without going about to give Counſel againſt my own Tranquillity? I deſire to live in the Country all the remainder of my Life, to be watch'd, and to be debarr'd from all manner of Liberty: If they do accordingly, How can I complain? And if it be done, Why ſhould I live? That cruel Dart that has Wounded me, ſtill ſticks in the very inner⯑moſt part of my Heart, and I ſhall ſee no more [108] him, whom I am not able to forget: Albine, how unfortunate am I! She cry'd for a conſiderable time, and her Governeſs, who long'd for nothing more than to be always managing an Intrigue whereby ſhe might make her Advantage, did not fail to make Uſe of this Critical Juncture, to pro⯑poſe to her, to give an Account in a Letter, to the Earl, in what a Condition ſhe was in. The Counteſs not only rejected her Propoſition; but alſo forbid her ever to re-call to her Mind an Idea, ſhe intended to efface out of her Remem⯑brance.

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

The Head of the Watch-men, who had made the Earl to paſs his time ſo ſcurvily in the late Nocturnal Adventure, dreaded the Conſequence thereof might turn to his utter Ruin, unleſs he could counter-ballance the Earl's Authority, by ſome powerful Protection at Court: His Siſter, happening to live with Madam Grey, he told her the whole Story, and what Apprehenſions he was under; And this young Woman fearing no leſs than the Ruin of her Brother, by the great Power of the General and the Earl, threw her ſelf at her Miſtreſſes Feet, conjuring her to take Compaſſion of her Family, and to interceed with the King, in behalf of what had happen'd to her Brother out of Ignorance. Madam Grey was too well pleas'd with this Story, not to impart it to [109] the young King, and to repreſent the whole, un⯑der ſuch Circumſtances of her own Invention, as prov'd very diverting to him. After having laugh'd very heartily for ſome time, he was very curious to know from whence the Gene⯑ral and the Earl came at that time of Night; and as he knew the firſt to be a Perſon of down⯑right Honeſty, he judg'd, he might with much leſs Difficulty unfold the Miſtery by him, than by the Earl of Warwick, who would be ſure not to diſcover his Intrigue to him.

So ſoon as the King ſaw the General, he took him into his Cloſet, and told him with a very o⯑bliging Air, That he was ſomewhat diſſatisfy'd with him, becauſe he ſhould keep him in Igno⯑rance, of what was known to all the World be⯑ſides, viz. his Quarrel with the Watch: If you have a mind to make your Peace with me, con⯑tinued he, you muſt deal frankly, and let me know, at leaſt, from whence you came at that time. Sir, reply'd the General, your Majeſty would have put me to the greateſt Nonplus that can be, had you ask'd me ſuch a Queſtion as this ſometime ago; but at this time, now I have broken thoſe Chains that prov'd too weighty for me, and am freed from a Tyrannical Paſſion, ſo little ſuitable to my Natural Inclinations, I am free to own, that the moſt ſurprizing Beauty of the young Counteſs of Devonſhire, did rob me of the true Uſe of all my Reaſon. He then, like a blunt true-bred Soldier, laid open before the King his whole Paſſion for that Lady, his Inquietudes, and how he had bin manag'd by the Limner; but diſ⯑ſembled his Knowledge of the King's being his Rival, judging, that in point of Policy, he ought not to touch upon that String. The King inter⯑rupting him, told him with a Smile, Oh! my Lord, you forget to remember me in this Love [110] Concern! The General was ſomewhat ſurpriz'd, but ſoon recollecting himſelf, Your Majeſty, ſays he, knows ſo well how to conceal the Secrets of your Heart, that I could never be acquainted with what ſhare your Majeſty had in this Intrigue. We will ask Roſamond's Picture, continu'd the King, Smiling, perhaps ſhe will be more ſincere than we are. The General being not a little net⯑led, Bluſh'd; Sir, ſaid he, the ſincere Confeſſion I have made, without concealing the leaſt thing from you, I hop'd, would not have bin recom⯑penc'd with ſuch Reproaches from your Majeſty; I am much aſham'd of it, and you will actually ſave me a great deal of Trouble, if you will be pleas'd to believe, That that time whilſt I was ſighing for my Lady Devonſhire, is to me now like a Dream, the Idea whereof vaniſhes as ſoon as you are well awake; as I don't remember, what is paſs'd, ſo I might eaſily forget to mention ſome Circumſtances, without the leaſt deſign: That this muſt be attributed rather to the Defect of my Memory, than to any want of Inclination, to give entire Satisfaction to your Majeſty, concern⯑ing what you are deſirous to know. Well, let that be as it will, reply'd the King, tell me whether the Earl of Warwick was along with you at this charming Aſſignation? No, Sir, ſaid the General, we were both equally ſurpriz'd to meet one ano⯑ther at this pretty Seat; nay, we talk'd together for ſome Moments without knowing one ano⯑ther, and I could, with all the eagerneſs I ſhew'd, not get out of him a Reciprocal Confi⯑dence, to tell me from whence he came.

The King, who liſten'd to him with much At⯑tention, began to conceive ſome Jealouſy at the Earl of Warwick, but would not give way to it, for fear of giving to himſelf ſome real occaſion of Trouble: His Tenderneſs for the Earl did [111] ſuppreſs his Jealouſy, and he would even have bin diſſatisfy'd with being inform'd of the real Truth thereof; ſo that his mind fluctuating, be⯑twixt uncertain Hope and Fear, he did not in the leaſt alter his obliging manner of Corre⯑ſpondence with this Favorite. But the Earl, whoſe Paſſion encreas'd in Proportion to the Multitude of Obſtacles that obſtructed his Hap⯑pineſs, could think of nothing elſe than how to encompaſs another Interview with the Counteſs of Devonſhire; and as he took but little notice of thoſe that came to make their Court to him, ſo the King found him much different in his Temper, from that Pleaſant, Charming and Engaging Humour, which render'd, him ſo a⯑greeable to all the World: He obſerv'd, not without Vexation, that not only his Deport⯑ment, but alſo his Perſon, was much chang'd; That his Spirits ſeem'd ſuppreſs'd; That his Health was but in an indifferent State; and in ſhort, That his Penſiveneſs and Diſtractions carry'd him beyond himſelf ſometimes, paſt all recovery. He was heartily diſturb'd thereat, and it came more than once into his Thoughts, that perhaps the Earl might have bin wanting in the Reſpect and Fidelity due to him, in reſpect of my Lady Devonſhire, and that he ſecretly lov'd her: But, as I told you before, he would check theſe Conſiderations, and continue to give him ſuch Demonſtrations of his Tenderneſs, as would have made him eſteem himſelf infinitely Happy, had his Heart not bin engag'd ſo far as it was.

One Day, when the King had bin Talking to him a long while, concerning a Matter that ac⯑quir'd a great deal of Attention, being the Sub⯑ject upon which he was to make a Speech to the Parliament; the better to help his Memory, he [112] thought fit to dictate it to the Earl, for him to write it; but happening to ſtop at certain Inter⯑vals, the better to think upon what he was to dictate upon that Head, the Earl, who was ſo far from thinking upon what the King ſaid, that he minded nothing elſe but his own Affairs, meaning the Counteſs, was on a ſudden ſeiz'd with ſome Splenetick Thoughts, which nearly affecting his Soul, he, without conſidering that the Paper he had in his Hand muſt be perus'd by the King himſelf, writ theſe following Words: Hymen has reduc'd you under the Laws of a Husband, your Heart is his, and 'tis not in your Power to lo [...]e a Lover. He had queſtionleſs gone on, had not the King begun afreſh; ſo that the Earl making a new Article, writ what was dictated to [...]; and ſtopping again for a while, to ruminate up⯑on the Matter, and to render his Speech the more perſuaſive and inſinuating, the Earl, who was quite taken up with the Counteſs, writ again theſe Lines: Love not a Husband whoſe dreadful Power, does ſnatch from thee thy Heart in ſpite of thy ſelf, and who without conſulting thy Heart, offers Violence to thy Inclinations.

The King concluded the Speech which the Earl writ, without conſidering it was upon the ſame Paper, where he had ſet down theſe Verſes, and it being late, his Majeſty folding it up without reading it, and putting it up in his Pocket, went to pay a Viſit to the Dutcheſs of York, his Mother. The Earl of Warwick went home at the ſame time, from whence he ſent immediately a Meſſenger to the Dutcheſs of Norſolk, Siſter to the Counteſs of Devonſhire: He knew that this Lady was then enquiring for a Compleat Gardener, for the Counteſs of Angleſey, who now wholly applying her ſelf to the Diverſions of the Country, had a mind to have their Gardens quite alter'd. The [113] Earl of Warwick having then a Houſe, or rather to ſpeak more properly, a Palace, at Chelſey, near London, adorn'd with all the Beauties of Art and Nature, eſpecially by its moſt Delightful Situation upon the very Bank of the Thames, he ſpar'd no Coſt nor Care to make it one of the moſt Charming Places in the World. It was for this Purpoſe, he had obtain'd out of France, the Deſigns and Scheme of that celebrated Gardener, who had the Management of thoſe Famous Gar⯑dens of Agnes Lorez, Miſtreſs to King Charles VII. of France, appertaining to a fine Country Seat, near Vincennes; Two Gardeners being like⯑wiſe ſent him out of France, to be employ'd in the Deſigning of his Gardens, he ſent one of them to the Dutcheſs of Norſolk, to ſhew her the Draughts they had brought along with them. The Gardener being a ſenſible Fellow, ſo well diſ⯑charg'd himſelf of his Commiſſion, according to the Earl's Inſtructions, that my Lord Norfolk ſoon agreed with him, to be ſent to my Lady Angleſey, and the Gardener deſiring to have a Fellow allow'd him, to aſſiſt him, ſhe willingly conſented to his Requeſt. This Employment be⯑ing deſign'd for Berincour, a Native of France, his Language perfectly ſuited with his Maſter's Intention, but it was not the ſame with his Habit; for being very well known at Court, where he us'd frequently to attend the Earl, and of a Gentile Make, it was not an eaſie mat⯑ter to manage his Diſguiſe, ſo as to be paſt all hazard of being diſcover'd: However, this Point being encompaſs'd almoſt to a Wonder, away he goes along with the Gardener, to execute his Maſter's Commiſſion, and to deliver a Letter to the Counteſs of Devonſhire, full of thoſe moſt Reſpectful and Paſſionate Expreſſions, that were due to a Lady of her Merit and Birth, and [114] ſuitable to repreſent his Paſſion in the moſt lively Terms that could be invented.

The King ſtaid not long with the Dutcheſs his Mother, but ſoon having engag'd her at Play, wherein he went Halves with her, ſoon left the Apartment, and ſtraightways went to that of Madam Grey, who gave him a ſlender Check for ſtaying ſo long. Don't be out of Humour, ſaid he to her, I have bin buſie in very ſerious Mat⯑ters, and I ſtaid but a very little while with the Dutcheſs of York, becauſe I would be here ſo ſoon as poſſible I could. I will read to you, the Speech I intend to make at the opening of the next Parliament, becauſe I have had no time to peruſe and reviſe it as yet. I hope, Sir, ſaid ſhe, Careſſing him, you will read it aloud, which the King did; but coming to that Paſſage where the Earl had witten his Verſes, he was ſurpriz'd beyond Expreſſion! What do you think of this, ſaid he to his Miſtreſs? Is it by chance, or done on purpoſe? Who is it he ſpeaks of and who is it he is ſo much in love with? Madam Grey read them with the utmoſt Atten⯑tion, and without conſulting a Conjurer ſoon gueſs'd at the true meaning thereof. Oh! Tray⯑tor, cry'd ſhe, he intended to make me his Bubble! The King was touch'd to the quick with theſe Words, for knowing Madam Grey to be one of the moſt [...]able Perſons in the World, he ſu⯑ſpected an Intrigue, betwixt her and the Earl; ſo that at laſt his Paſſion for the Counteſs of De⯑vonſhire was reviv'd. Quite overwhelm'd with theſe Thoughts, he with a fierce Countenance look'd upon the Fair Widow, without ſparing all the Reproaches his Rage could inſpire him with, or affording her any time for her Juſtifica⯑tion; and ſo ariſing on a ſudden from his Seat, was a going to leave her, ſhe then throwing [115] her ſelf at his Feet, and Embracing him with Tears in her Eyes, I am reſolv'd, ſaid ſhe, not to live, unleſs your Majeſty will hear me. Sir, I am not Guilty: The Words which I let drop, with⯑out conſidering the matter, concerning the Earl of Warwick, have not the leaſt relation to me, but only to his Treachery to you. At theſe Words the King's Anger ſeem'd to be ſomewhat appeas'd, the Beau⯑tiful Eyes of Madam Grey, all overflown with Tears, had touch'd him to the quick, and he now blam'd himſelf for being the Occaſion there⯑of; ſo he ſat down again, and Madam Grey lay⯑ing hold of this favourable Diſpoſition, with tender Looks intermix'd with Sighs, told him, I was unacquainted, Sir, with your Paſſion for the Counteſs of Devonſhire, and I might have bin ſo for a great while longer, had not the Earl of Warwick taken ſo much Pains to inform me of it, by many of his Letters; I am a going to ſhew to your Majeſty it was he alſo, that told me, you intended to fetch her from Twittenham, and thus I acted in concert with him, in order to thwart your Deſign: 'Twas he that plagu'd me to load you with Reproaches, and without him, I ſhould have ſhew'd much more Tenderneſs and Reſpect; but when he told me I was upon the point of loſing you, I like a deſperate Woman was ſoon perſuaded, that he had ſo much reſpect for me, as to be altoge⯑ther in my Intereſt, and that this was the only Mo⯑tive, that made him hazard every thing in truſting me with a Secret, the Diſcovery whereof would in all probability make him forfeit all your Favours: I would have conceal'd it within my Breaſt, were it not that now I am convinc'd what was it that engag'd him to make me his Confident, wherein Affection had not the leaſt Share; 'Tis ſo far from it, Sir, that he ſhould have a Paſſion for me, that he loves the Counteſs of Devonſhire, he is your [116] Rival, and I his Shield, to be interpos'd be⯑twixt you and her, in order to Cure your old Paſſion by a new one: Don't diſdain to call to mind his Conduct, when you laid open your Heart to him; look into theſe Letters, reflect up⯑on theſe Verſes:‘Hymen has reduc'd you under the Laws of a Hus⯑band, your Heart is his, and 'tis not in your Power to love a Lover.’

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

This doubtleſs is ſaid in relation to the Coun⯑teſs's ſudden Departure, he knowing her to be diſſatisfy'd upon that Point, like a Man of Senſe, makes Uſe of this as an Argument to cool her Affection for her Husband. Now your Ma⯑jeſty ſees, continu'd ſhe, how little I deſerv'd theſe Reproaches you loaded me with to ſo high a Degree, and how ſmall a Share of Affection the Earl bore to me. She might have held on Talking thus till Night, without being minded by [117] the King, who ſoon perceiving that his Jealouſy was ill-grounded, and this his Jealouſy changing to a moſt furious Anger, continu'd all this while [...] a deep ſtudy. Madam Grey being too well acquainted with the cauſe thereof to interrupt him in his Thoughts, kept ſilence for a while, till the King broke out on a ſudden, as if he was ſpeaking to the Earl. O! Perfidious Man! Is this the Return thou makeſt me for all the Kindneſs I have ſhown thee! for the entire Confidence I have put in thee! for the Riches and other Favours I have heap'd upon thee! What a Piece of Treachery is this? He has ſnatch'd from me a young Miſtreſs! whom I lov'd, and unto whom I was not altogether indifferent. He has left no Stone unturn'd, Madam, to rob me likewiſe of your Heart: Could any Letters be more cunningly devis'd than theſe he has written to you? How Miſerable is the Condition of Princes! being either hated out of Fear, or elſe deſpis'd when they enter into a Familiarity with their Subjects; ſo that they ſcarce ever taſte the true Reliſh of thinking themſelves really belov'd.

He paus'd at theſe Words a little, and his Me⯑lancholly Reflections encreaſing with the Conſide⯑rations of what Favours he had beſtow'd upon the Earl, and how ill he had bin rewarded by him, he Sigh'd, much diſſatisfy'd within himſelf, for retaining ſtill ſome Kindneſs for a Perſon that de⯑ſerv'd it ſo little. At laſt turning his Eyes, with a tender Look, upon Madam Grey, he begg'd of her not to remember what he had told her, during the firſt Motions of his Jealouſy; ſhe appear'd ſatisfy'd thereat, but was not a little diſcompos'd at the King's Melancholly, which ſhe endeavour'd to diſperſe by her pleaſant and engaging Conver⯑ſation, which at any other time, but this, would have bin very diverting to him, but now had but little, if not a contrary Effect upon him; for he [118] took his Leave of her, not without ſome diſſatis⯑faction, becauſe ſhe had laid open to him the ill Conduct of his Favourite.

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

The King paſs'd that Night under a thouſand Inquietudes, which would not ſuffer him ſo much as to think of ſleeping; the Beauty, Grace, and Engaging Air of the Counteſs of Devonſhire, com⯑ing a freſh into his Mind, tormented his Soul with an irreſiſtable Power: He underſtood by the Verſes of the Earl's, that he had not as yet made any ſufficient Progreſs there to make him Happy; and on the other Hand, reflecting upon his late Conduct, he had all the reaſon to fear he ſhould not be more Happy himſelf. Entangled in theſe different Conſiderations, his Paſſion at laſt gave place to his Anger, on account of the Earl of Warwick: He took a Reſolution to Baniſh him into the moſt Northern Parts of Scotland, among thoſe dreadful Mountains, where the Inhabitants (at that time) were diſtinguiſhable only from Savage Beaſts by their Human Shape. Here it is, ſaid he, where he ſhall entertain the Rocks with his Paſſion; here he ſhall ſend forth his Sighs to the Sea, whilſt I will remain Deaf to all his Complaints, till I have [119] made him to do a long Penance for his Infidelity. But after all, conſidering the many Obligations he ow'd him, this oblig'd him to alter his Opinion, and to make him acknowledge only, and repent of his Fault. However, whilſt he continu'd ſtrug⯑gling betwixt Gratitude and Anger, for fear the laſt ſhould again get the upper hand againſt a Per⯑ſon whom he was inclin'd to Pardon, if he would in the leaſt render himſelf worthy of it, he reſolv'd, rather than to ſpeak to him himſelf, to engage ſome Body elſe to do it in his behalf.

He pitch'd upon the Earl of Pembroke to under⯑take this Task: He was alſo the King's Favourite, a Man not inferior in Point of Magnificence and Gallantry to any Perſon at Court; he was Witty, of a Charming Converſation, Young, Handſome, and who ſpar'd nothing to render himſelf agree⯑able to the Fair Sex, and that with good Suc⯑ceſs. The King having order'd him to be call'd to Court early in the Morning, he was yet in Bed, but made all the haſte he could, being impatient to know what the King had to command him. He was no ſooner admitted into his Bed Chamber, but he told him. Your beſt Friend has betray'd me; The Earl of Warwick never merited the Tenderneſs I ſhew'd him; I made him a Partaker in my Heart, but my Favours were very ill be⯑ſtow'd. The Earl of Pembroke hearken'd to the King with a great deal of Trouble, becauſe he entirely lov'd the Earl of Warwick; What is it you tell me, Sir, cry'd he? Is it poſſible he ſhould be wanting in what is owing to ſo Great a King? Certainly he was not engag'd in reſtoring King Henry and Queen Margarete to the Throne? Ah! I don't doubt, but that ſome body or other, envi⯑ous of his Good Fortune, has inſinuated ſome⯑thing to your Majeſty to procure his Ruin. Be⯑lieve your own Eyes, reply'd the King, giving him [120] the Billets he had written to Madam Grey, and his Speech with the before mention'd Verſes. The Earl ſtood ſurpriz'd to the higheſt Degree, with his Eyes fix'd to the Ground, without utter⯑ing one Word. I am well pleas'd, ſaid the King, to ſee you ſo much concern'd, there being but few Favourites ſo generous, as to ſhare the Misfortunes of thoſe whom they think powerful enough to do them a Miſchief; but ſince you are ſo much concern'd for him, Go and adviſe him to merit his Pardon, by an Ingenuous Confeſſion of his In⯑trigue with the young Counteſs of Devonſhire; this being the only Means to appeaſe my Anger. I am a going to conduct him hither at your Ma⯑jeſty's Feet, anſwer'd the Earl. No, cry'd the King, let him ſhew never ſo much Repentance, I will not ſpeak to him, and I could find in my Heart, never to ſee him again, but rather to ſend him into ſome dreadful Solitude, where he might at his own leiſure, reflect upon his Fault; but that ſome Remnants of Tenderneſs plead within me for his better Treatment: In ſhort, let him be ſincere, and he may be ſav'd.

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

This was the State of Affairs at Court, when the King told the Earl of Pembrook, That he was in Love with the Counteſs of Devonſhire, as well as the Earl of Warwick, and order'd him, as I told you before, to go to the ſaid Earl, and to engage him to make ſuch an Ingenious Confeſſion as might merit his Pardon. It was then the Earl of Pembrook began to call to mind how often he had obſerv'd the Counteſs of Devonſhire in a Penſive Condition; how often he had heard certain Sighs, that ſeem'd to eſcape her unawares; what unſea⯑ſonable Anſwers ſhe us'd to give, and with what Satisfaction ſhe us'd to hear them talk of the Earl of Warwick. As he was ignorant that ſhe knew him, ſo he little ſuſpected of ſuffering any thing upon his Account on that ſide; but at this very Moment he began to be fully convinc'd of his ap⯑proaching Misfortunes, ſince he met with a Ri⯑val in the Perſon of his beſt Friend, and ſuch a one, whoſe inevitable Deſtruction was at hand, if the King's Indignation were but never ſo little heighten'd againſt him. He ſtood in need of all [133] his Generoſity, to eſpouſe, at this Conjuncture, the Intereſt of the Earl of Warwick, which perhaps he would not have done, had not his Maſter's Paſſion for the Counteſs threaten'd him with the ſame Dangers; ſo that conſidering how blameable it would appear to his own Heart, if he ſhould be inſtrumental in adding to his Diſgrace, which ſo ſenſibly afflicted him already, he reſolv'd to ſacri⯑fice Love to Friendſhip, and be ſerviceable to his Rival, as long as he continu'd to be unfortunate; but to break with him, as ſoon as he ſhould ceaſe to be ſo.

He underſtood that the Earl of Warwick had not bin gone to Bed, till within two Hours before, having ſpent the reſt of the Night, in giving In⯑ſtructions to his Gentleman, concerning what he was to ſay to the Counteſs of Devonſhire and to Albine: He was ſo very careful not to forget any thing, that he repeated the ſame thing a thouſand times, and now after his Departure, thinking to take ſome reſt, was ſoon diſturb'd by the Earl of Pembrook. After having given him an Account of the whole matter, Don't think, added he, of juſtifying your ſelf, by diſowning the thing, for the King has order'd me to produce before your Face the Witneſſes of your Paſſion for the Counteſs, and of your Breach of Faith to him; he is re⯑ſolv'd to be well inform'd of the whole, even to the meaneſt Circumſtance, and then he will conſi⯑der, whether to do you Juſtice, or afford you his Pardon. The Earl of Warwick enrag'd at the ſight of the Letters he writ to Madam Grey, That Perfidious Woman, cry'd he, has made me a Sacrifice: She was in the right on't, to imagine, that it was not on account of her own Perſon, I ſhould ſcarce have taken ſo much Pains for her; but time will come, when I ſhall make her ſenſible of my Indignation. 'Tis now no Time to think [134] of Revenge, ſaid the Earl, you muſt find a way to appeaſe the King. And how is that to be done, reply'd the Earl of Warwick? He knows al⯑ready, that I love my Lady Devonſhire, and how can I then make it known to him? And as for my renouncing this Paſſion, all the joint Powers upon Earth ſhall never compel me to do it. The King wants to know whether you are belov'd, ſaid the Earl of Pembrook. Belov'd, reply'd the Earl of Warwick, I know nothing of that; but if I am not, I don't deſpair of being ſo. The Earl of Pembrook found himſelf touch [...]d to the quick at theſe Words; However, he ſo well diſſembled the Torments of his Mind, that he diſcover'd nothing of it at that time. Queſtionleſs, added he, you are enter'd into a very pleaſing Correſpondence with this Fair Lady. 'Tis true, ſaid the Earl, I have writ to her, and ſhe has ſomtimes ſent me an Anſwer. And that full of Tenderneſs, ſaid my Lord Pembrook. No, anſwer'd he, ſhe acts with a great deal of Circumſpection and Miſtruſt. How can this be conſiſtent, reply'd he, with the Liberty that was given you, to have an Interview with her in the Night time? How I, cry'd the Earl! Yes you, reply'd he; the King knows the whole Intrigue Alas! What then would he have more of me, reply'd my Lord Warwick, with an impa⯑tient Countenance? He would have, ſaid the Earl, an exact account of all the Tranſactions belonging thereto, from the greateſt to the meaneſt Cir⯑cumſtance.

The Earl of Warwick pauſing a while upon the Matter, and afterwards turning his Eyes towards him, with a ſettled Aſſurance, My Lord, ſaid he, I reſpect the King as my Soveraign, and as my Maſter; and I may ſay it without Vanity, That without me, he had perhaps bin neither one nor the other: But I love him beſides all this, as the [135] beſt of my Friends. I begg of him, to take Pity of the Frailties of my Heart, which not always conſults Reaſon, before it ſurrenders it ſelf: I fell in Love with the Counteſs of Devonſhire, before I knew any thing of his Majeſty's Paſſion for her: When he did me the Honour to make me his Con⯑fident therein, it was too late for me to hope for a Cure; I rather cheriſh'd my Fetters, and con⯑ceal'd them with all poſſible Care, not ſo much out of fear to diſoblige the King, as out of a de⯑ſire of pleaſing the Perſon I Ador'd: At laſt her Departure threw me into ſo deep a Melancholly, Vexation and Extravagancy, that I diſcover'd my ſelf, in Writing certain Verſes inſtead of the Speech the King dictated to me. Madam Grey has taken this Opportunity to contrive my Ruin, by ſhewing my Letters; but after all, What is it they can do to me? As long as I am prepoſſeſs'd with the ſame Paſſion as I now am, nothing, but what has a relation to that, will have any Effect upon me: All the reſt, whether good or bad, whether Rewards or Chaſtiſements, all this, I ſay, will not affect me: And this is perhaps the only Thing in this Intrigue, the King is not acquainted with as yet; and this being all I can tell him, pray let him know it from me. The Earl of Pembrook, who was his real Friend, deſir'd him to alter his Reſolutions, and by an account, without reſerve, to appeaſe his Majeſty. He told him, He could ſay no more, That he was not Happy, but that, if his Fortune ſhould prove more favourable, all the moſt Cruel Torments ſhould not force from his Mouth, as much as one Word, that might prove injurious to the Honour of a Lady that was ſo dear to him; and that it could not but vex him to the Heart, to find the King to have ſo ill an Opinion of him, as to think him capable of betraying the Favours of a Lady. The Earl of [136] Pembrook repreſented to him the ill Conſequences of his Obſtanacy. But he told him, He would expect the Stroak with Tranquillity, having this ſecret Satisfaction, That he knew nothing where⯑with to reproach himſelf.

Theſe Ambiguous Anſwers made the Earl of Pembrook's Thoughts fluctuate betwixt Hope and Fear; ſometimes he thought the Earl no more Happy than himſelf, and at other times he did not doubt, but that he liv'd in certain Hopes of being belov'd; but as all this remain'd in an in⯑certitude, ſo the more he abandon'd himſelf to theſe Reflections, the more matter of Trouble he encounter'd with, in unfolding the Miſtery. Alas! ſaid he, I have not had Courage enough to ſpeak, nay, not ſo much as to ſuffer my Eyes, to make known my preſent Condition; and the Earl has writ to this Counteſs, nay, has had an Interview with her in the midſt of a dark Night: For, tho' he did not abſolutely confeſs it, who can doubt it, after what has happen'd when he was taken up by the Watch? See how I pay for my Timidity, my reſpectful Silence is puniſh'd, as if it were a Crime. Thus Comfortleſs he goes back to the Court, with ſo dejected a Countenance, as if he had bin very Sick: The King was ſur⯑priz'd at the ſight thereof, and could not for bear to ſhew him ſome peculiar Marks of good Will, for being ſo perfect a Friend. When he gave an account to his Majeſty of what had paſs'd be⯑twixt the Earl and him, he left nothing unat⯑tempted to allay the King's Indignation, and wrought ſo effectually upon the King, that he reſolv'd not to Baniſh ſo far off, as he at firſt in⯑tended: Nay, he begg'd the King to ſend him only to Chelſey; but the King being too well ac⯑quainted with that Seat, as not to know what Pleaſures he might enjoy there, he pitch'd upon [137] Caerleon for a Place of his Baniſhment. This had bin in former Ages a conſiderable City in South-Wales, ſeated upon the River Ʋſque, but whereof nothing being left now but Ruins and Miſerable Remnants of Antiquity, this prov'd not a very convenient Place for the Entertainment of a Per⯑ſon, ſo much accuſtom'd as he was to Pleaſure and Magnificence.

The King now exaſperated to a high degree, order'd the Earl of Pembrook to return immediate⯑ly to the Earl of Warwick, and to tell him from him, That within two Hours he muſt depart for Caerleon. He was ſomewhat doubtful, whether he had beſt accept of this Commiſſion, or whether he ſhould deſire the King to employ ſome body elſe in it; but at laſt, fearing, leſt his Friend might not receive this Command with ſo much Submiſſion as he ought to do, and that the ſame might be afterwards ill repreſented to the King, in hopes of conſummating the Ruin of a Diſ⯑grac'd Favourite, moſt frequently practis'd among Courtiers, he was contented to undertake this Order, the better to take care of his Friends In⯑tereſt: He thought it but requiſite, to bring in by way of Introduction, certain things commonly made Uſe of, to prepare People's Minds againſt an ill Piece of News. To what purpoſe ſerve all theſe Precautions, my Lord, cry'd he, when I told you this Morning, that nothing could actually af⯑flict me, unleſs it related to my Lady Devonſhire; if nothing that is amiſs, has befaln her, ſpeak without fear, for I am prepar'd againſt all Events. You are to be ſent out of the way, ſaid the Earl of Pembrook, embracing him. I am overjoy'd at it, reply'd he, And has the King done me the Favour to pitch upon a Place remote from all Converſa⯑tion with the World? A Deſart, where I may employ my Thoughts Day and Night? where I [138] may ſend forth my Sighs and Complaints, for not ſeeing the Counteſs? and where, at laſt, I may not come near that dangerous She-Favourite of his, the Preſence whereof will be always odious to me. Your Wiſhes are accompliſh'd, ſaid the Earl of Pembrook, Caerleon is the Place deſign'd by the King for your Baniſhment, and it is his Pleaſure you ſhould depart within two Hours. The time is very ſhort, ſaid the Earl, but no Matter, I ſhall be pleas'd once more with the Sight of the River Ʋſque: Pray tell the King, That within two Hours, I will be no more in London, and that I ſhall be very well pleas'd with my Place of Abode. They did bid one another Farewel with all the Tenderneſs imaginable; for the Earl not knowing my Lord of Pembrook to be his Rival, there was nothing that interfer'd with their Friendſhip on his ſide. He left London with ſo much Precipitation, that he would not ſo much as take his Leave of the Arch-biſhop of York, and the Marqueſs of Montague, his Brothers: For, he fear'd, that they being incens'd at his ill Treat⯑ment, might urge him to go over to Calas, whereof he was then Governour; and by putting himſelf under the Protection of the French King, revenge himſelf of King Edward.

The Earl of Warwick's Gentleman coming to Twittenham with Letters from the Dutcheſs of Norfolk to my Lady Angleſey, thought not fit to deliver them himſelf for fear of being known, but gave them to the French Gardener, his pre⯑tended Maſter, to give them to that Lady, whilſt he kept at a diſtance in one of the darkeſt Corners of the Room. The Counteſs of Angleſey much pleas'd with the Draughts this Gardener ſhew'd her, pitch'd upon one for her Garden, ordering him to begin it the next Day. The Fellow was very well pleas'd with it, being born and train'd [139] up in this kind of Work, but agreed but very in⯑differently with Berincour, he being but little us'd to Hardſhip; eſpecially ſince the Counteſs being very eager to have it brought to Perfection, and there being abundance of Weeds to be cut up, and other matters to be done, he that was to Survey the Work, us'd often to check him after a very rough manner. His beſt Comfort was, That he ſaw the Counteſs of Devonſhire taking a Walk every Day in a Shady Wilderneſs, at the End of the Place where they were at Work; but in ſo Melancholly a Condition, and accompany'd by ſo many Surveyers, that he durſt not ſpeak to her for fear of being diſcover'd. As for Albine, ſhe did not appear for a conſiderable time, being detain'd in Bed by an Ague; ſo that the poor Earl, who impatiently long'd for ſome News in his Solitude, could not hear of any a good while that might be pleaſing to him Berincour knew that Albine was Sick, at laſt took an Opportunity to let her know by a young Woman, with whom he dined ſome times, That if ſhe pleas'd, he could Cure her, provided ſhe would let him apply cer⯑tain Herbs to her Wreſts, which would produce an almoſt ſtupendious Effect. So ſhe ſent for him, and he, after ſome ſuperſtitious Ceremonies, ap⯑ply'd the Herbs to her Wreſts; but at the ſame time, did not forget to revive her Eye-ſight with the Luſtre of the Jewel his Maſter had ſent her by him, which he held in his Hand, ſo as to be ſeen by no body but her ſelf The old Albine dazled with the Brightneſs thereof, ſoon got out of Bed into the Garden, where ſhe call'd for the Garden⯑er's Man, under pretence that he ſhould aſſiſt her in ſupporting her to Walk, whilſt they might talk of the moſt ſtupendious Operations and Cure perform'd by his Herbs.

[140] So ſoon as he had an Opportunity of ſpeaking to her, he told her, That the Earl had no other Hopes left, but what he expected from her Aſſiſt⯑ance, having ſent him on purpoſe to acquaint her with every thing that paſs'd: That he was afflicted to the Heart, becauſe he heard no News from my Lady Devonſhire, ſince ſhe had left London, and therefore had given him a large Letter di⯑rected to my Lady, and a Jewel for her. Things have faln out ſo unexpectedly, anſwer'd Albine, and the young Counteſs has ſo poſſitively forbid me to entertain any further Correſpondence with the Earl, that this join'd to the Impoſſibility of Writing, without being diſcover'd by ſo many Argus's as we have about us, I ſaw my ſelf con⯑ſtrain'd to be quiet, when I wiſh'd I could have done otherwiſe. She then told him what had happen'd with the Watch; the unfortunate Ac⯑cident of the Jewel and Picture; the Jealouſy of the Earl, and the Vexation of the Counteſs of Devonſhire, and how ſhe had bin reprimanded by her Mother. What muſt we do, my dear Albine, ſaid Berincour? My Maſter can't live if your Miſtreſs perſeveres in her Rigour; I conjure you by all that is good, to procure me a Moment to ſpeak with her, or at leaſt, take my Letter, and let me have an Anſwer. I can promiſe you no⯑thing, ſaid Albine, you may be aſſur'd of my Zeal for your Service. For fear their Converſation ſhould have created ſome Suſpicion if it had continu'd longer, Albine went out of the Garden, but fail'd not to come again every Day, and would talk with Berincour under ſome favourable pretence or other.

I told you before, he was a Handſome Fellow, ſo that, notwithſtanding the Sun had made him as Tawny as a Tawny-Moor, and his being much har⯑raſs'd with continual Labour, the old Gentle⯑woman [141] took a great Fanſie to him: She ſuppos'd nothing could be more proper, than to make a Match betwixt the He and She Confidents of two Rich Lovers: That the Earl being in a Condition to make his Gentleman's Fortune, my Lady would ſhew no leſs Liberality and Goodneſs for her: To be ſhort, ſhe had got the Match ſo far in her Head, that ſhe took but little concern in the Affair of the Earl of Warwick, and whenever ſhe found her ſelf urg'd by Berincour, ſhe would tell him, ſhe was forc'd to act with a great deal of Precaution. What makes you, ſaid he, detain me thus here? You know what Danger I am in if I am diſcover'd; I am oblig'd to Work from Day-break till Night; I am ready to die for Vexation, and am convinc'd you don't intend to do any further Service to my Maſter. How impa⯑tient are you, reply'd ſhe, and how little concern you ſhew, and the Trouble I take of coming ſo frequently to talk with you: Alas! were your Heart as inclinable to gratitude, as mine is, you would not be ſo eager for going, but would make the beſt Uſe of the preſent Opportunity. At theſe Words, Berincour was ready to burſt out a laughing: but having forborn it with much ado, he told her, That all this time his Thoughts were taken up with his Maſter's Affairs, but that for the future ſhe might be ſure of all his Applications, and that ſhe ſhould be ſatisfy'd how paſſionately he lov'd her. Albine being un⯑certain whether ſhe had beſt believe him or not, And how can I be aſſur'd, reply'd ſhe, that you will Love me, if you don't Love me already? I ſhould much ſuſpect a Paſſion, that is ſo much at your Command. He told her, That his ſeeing and loving her were of the ſame Date; That if ſhe would diſpatch him quickly, he would ſoon re⯑turn on purpoſe to Court her. This Promiſe [142] ſet the old Gentlewoman to Work; for the ſame Evening, ſhe told my Lady Devonſhire, That nei⯑ther her Silence nor her Coldneſs being able to check the Earls P [...]ſſion, he had left no Stone un⯑turn'd to hear ſome News of her, and that his Gentleman was there in Diſguiſe to deliver her a Letter, which ſhe had undertaken to give to her.

The Counteſs's Colour changed at theſe Words; Will you Ruin me Albine, ſaid ſhe? have you al⯑ready forgot how much I have ſuffered only for having acted with leſs Reſervedneſs than I ſhould have done? And though I have nothing that is Material to upbraid my ſelf withal, 'tis ne⯑vertheleſs too much to give the World real Cauſe of Suſpicion. Don't ſpeak to me any more of the Earl of Warwick, my Stubborn Heart is too apt to do it without you. How! Madam, ſaid Albine to her, will you refuſe to accept his Letter? Yes, I will refuſe it, reply'd ſhe, Give it back to him who brought it to you, and order him from me to be gone. Albine, not a little ſurprized at this reſolute Anſwer, You will then prove the Cauſe of his Death, ſaid ſhe, or perhaps he will commit ſuch a Piece of Ex⯑travagancy, as you will have occaſion to repent of as long as you live. And how long is it, reply'd the Counteſs, with an angry look, ſince Men have that Liberty of Perſecuting a Woman, that is inclined to adhere ſtrictly to her Duty? Leave me at reſt Albine, the Force I put upon my Inclinations, is ready to put an end to my Life; but what matter is it, added ſhe, with a very Me⯑lancholy Air, ſince I have nothing that ſhould render Life more deſireable to me. At theſe Words, the Tears beginning to ſtand in her Eyes, Albine look'd upon it as a favourable Mi⯑nute to engage her to open the Earl's Pacquet, [143] Madam, ſaid ſhe, throwing her ſelf at her Feet, don't you refuſe to Read this Letter, my Lord Warwick will otherwiſe think you ſlight him; and how do you think a Man of his Haughty Temper can digeſt ſuch a uſage as this? Per⯑haps his Love may turn into Hatred. Oh! let him Hate me, cry'd ſhe, 'tis all I deſire him to do. But all this while, her Heart not be⯑ing ſtrong enough to retain her Sighs with⯑in her Breaſt, and Albine watching narrowly every one of her Motions, did not fail to tell her a Thouſand Reaſons, to engage her to o⯑pen the Pacquet; But ſeeing the Counteſs would not do it, ſhe did Read it aloud before her: The Counteſs had weakneſs enough to hear it Read, but cou'd not be prevail'd upon to re⯑turn an Anſwer.

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

Berincour knew nothing of his Maſters Exile⯑ment; but being inform'd thereof at London, he [144] went ſtraightways to Caerleon; coming thither, he underſtood he was walking on the Banks of the River Ʋſque; And the Gentleman, as he went in ſearch for him, found on ſeveral Trees, Engrave [...] the Cyphers of the Counteſs, and divers Verſes he had compoſed upon her. The Earl no ſooner eſpy'd him, but full of impatience ran to meet him, asking what Anſwer he brought from the Counteſs of Devonſhire? Whereupon, Berincour deſired him to have Patience to hearken to what he had to ſay. The Account he receiv'd from him, ſerving only to make him think him⯑ſelf more unhappy than really he was, threw him into a very deep Melancholly, and he now began to fanſy, that Albine, out of a Motive of ſelf Intereſt, had flattered him with all thoſe Tender Relations, She ſaid ſhe had underſtood in Converſing with his Miſtreſs; and that it was too true, that ſhe had no more than a bare Indifferency for him, becauſe ſhe would not Write to him. This Opinion being back'd by many Circumſtances, threw him into a moſt violent Anguiſh: Thus he ſpent Three days, un⯑der the greateſt Incertitude what to do; till at laſt, he reſolv'd to ſend back Berincour to the Counteſs, and to fill his Letters with ſuch urg⯑ing Complaints and Declarations of Reſpect, that ſhe ſhould not remain inſenſible thereat. His Gentleman, who not very well liked his Errand, repreſented to him, but in vain, how little like⯑lihood there was for better Succeſs in this Se⯑cond, than in his Firſt Journey; But he upbraid⯑ing him with Want of Affection, he departed in the old Diſguiſe of a Gardener, the better to conceal himſelf from every body.

During his Abſence, my Lady Devonſhire, who was with Child, narrowly eſcaped being kill'd by a Fall; So that upon his Arrival [145] there, he was told by Albine, that it would be very difficult for her Miſtreſs to find a favourable Opportunity of ſpeaking to him; becauſe ſhe was very ſeldom left alone. But, added ſhe, What happens very Fortunate, is, that I ſhall of⯑ten ſee you; ſo we muſt talk concerning our Marriage; and if we can't accompliſh the Earl of Warwick and the Counteſſes Buſineſs, at leaſt we will take care of our own. Make not the leaſt account upon that, ſaid he to her, with an an⯑gry look, my Fortune depends on the Succeſs of this Negotiation, and unleſs my Maſter be ſa⯑tisfy'd, I will never think of Marriage. Theſe Words having added new Life and Vigour to the Old Gentlewoman's Deſires, ſhe immediate⯑ly acquainted her Miſtreſs with the News of the return of the Earl's Gentleman, which proved a freſh occaſion of Trouble to her. She Com⯑manded her poſitively not to take his Letters; and that, if he did not withdraw from the Houſe forthwith, ſhe would make him repent of it. The Old Confident ſeeing her ſo Reſo⯑lute, could do no otherwiſe than tell Berincour, that he had beſt to depart with the firſt op⯑portunity, and that all the Earl would be able to do for the future, would be in vain, be⯑cauſe the Counteſs had taken this opportunity of his abſence, to hearken to her Reaſon; That ſhe made every day more and more Progreſs in recalling her Inclinations from him, and there⯑fore was reſolv'd not to Read any of his Let⯑ters, leſt his Paſſionate Expreſſions ſhould revive in her Heart, an Idea ſhe had found too Dear and too Dangerous for her Repoſe.

Berincour had nothing to object againſt what he was told by Albine; But being too well ac⯑quainted with his Maſter's Temper, to venture at his Return, without ſome more Comfortable [146] Anſwer, he told her, That ſince his ſo ſudden Departure would be infallibly attended with ſome remarkable ill Conſequences, he only de⯑ſired ſome time to do it at his own leaſure, and when he ſaw a fit opportunity to do it; and Albine managed the Matter ſo far with my Lady Devonſhire, that ſhe gave Ear to this Propoſi⯑tion. The Counteſs had done all that poſſibly could be done, when ſhe refus'd with ſo firm a Reſolution to read the Letters of the Earl of Warwick; but notwithſtanding her real deſire of Remembring him no more, nay, even of Hating him, 'tis certain, that not a Day paſs'd, but ſhe felt within her ſelf certain ſtrong Inclinations for him. No, ſaid ſhe, to her Confident, I would never forgive my ſelf for theſe Sentiments I ſtill preſerve for him, were it not that by the Violences I daily impoſe upon my ſelf, I were ſufficiently convinc'd, that one is not Miſtreſs of ones own Inclinations; a certain fatal Conſtel⯑lation has made me ſee the Earl, and ſince that unhappy Moment, neither all the Reflections I can make in reſpect of my ſelf, nor the Mo⯑tives of my Duty, nor the Advantage of his Abſence, have bin able to raze him out of my Thoughts. Albine being a Perſon who pre⯑ferr'd her own Intereſt before all other Conſide⯑rations, was ſo far from urging her Miſtreſs to keep ſtedfaſt to her Reſolution, that ſhe excus'd her Frailty, alledging many Inſtances of that Nature; which inſtead of perfecting the Cure, might ſerve rather to encreaſe her Diſtem⯑per.

This was the Condition of this Fair Lady, when ſhe juſt had got ſtrength enough to take the Air in the Garden, the very Place where Berincour watch'd all her Motions, being reſolv'd to take the firſt favourable Opportunity of ſpeaking to [147] her, He happen'd to meet with one, one Day, when he ſaw the Counteſs Reading in an Arbour, her Woman being at a good diſtance from her to gather a Noſe-gay: He at the ſame time run immediately to the Place where he knew the choiceſt Flowers were, took care to gather ſuch of them as he judg'd by their odoriferous Scent and various Colours, might be moſt agreeable to her; theſe he preſented to her in a Basket, and ſhe caſting her Eyes firſt upon the Flowers, and afterwards upon the Gardener, was ſoon con⯑vinc'd he was the Earl's Gentleman: She Bluſh'd at the Sight of him, and was a going into the next Walk; but beſides that, ſhe had not recover'd as yet her full Strength, the ſuddenneſs of ſo ſur⯑prizing a Sight had ſo far impair'd the Uſe of her Limbs, that ſhe ſaw her ſelf oblig'd to ſit down again in the ſame Place. Madam, ſaid Berincour to her, you know very well who I am, and what it is I hope for from your Goodneſs. What is it you would have with me, ſaid ſhe with a trembling Voice, Has not Albine ſpoke to you concerning me? But I can't believe, added he, what ſhe tells me, ſince I can't Imagine, Madam, the Earl of Warwick to have given you ſufficient occaſion to hate him to ſuch a degree, as to procure his Death in refuſing to Read his Letter and giving me an Anſwer. No, reply'd ſhe abruptly, I will have no manner of Correſpondence with him: What is it I have done to him, that he ſhould thus perſecute me in a Solitude, which ought to ſhelter me againſt the Danger of his Remembrance? Let him be Happy at Court, but leave me in Repoſe. You don't know then, Madam, reply'd he, how much he deſerves your Compaſſion? The King has Baniſh'd him into a kind of a Deſart, where he would live contented, would you but take the leaſt ſhare in his Pain. The Counteſs ſtood ſur⯑priz'd; [148] for tho' this Piece of News was well known in the Family, they had conceal'd it from her, becauſe they would not mention the Earl's Name. Alas! all her preceeding Reſo⯑lutions of Indifferency could not ſtand the brunt of this Surprize; the Air of her Face, nay, her Voice began to change into a milder Diſpoſition, ſhe took the Letters Berincour deliver'd to her, and having hid them carefully, immediately left the Arbour and Garden, being very impatient to ſee what the Earl had writ to her: The whole Packet contain'd no leſs than Six Letters, but it will be ſufficient to inſert one, which may ſave as a Pattern, to give a Judgment of all the reſt.

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

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

[151] During Berincour's late Journey to Caerleon, the before-mention'd French Gardener was faln in Love with a Handſome young Engliſh Damſel, and as it is a hard Task to keep any thing from what one loves, this Gardener was not altogether ſo much taken up with his Courtſhip, but that he would ſometimes Talk of his Companion; and this young Woman taking particular notice of this Gentleman in Diſguiſe, began to like him ſo well, that ſhe thought, if ſhe were born a Gentle⯑woman, ſhe could be much better ſatisfy'd with him, than with a Country Fellow: At laſt ſhe could not forbear to ſpeak concerning him to her Mother, and it would have bin Death to the old Woman, not to tell the Secret to her Husband: So the Gardener perceiving the thing to have taken Vent thought it his ſafeſt way, to declare the whole Truth thereof himſelf to the Earl of Devonſhire. He was touch'd to the quick at this News, not knowing what to reſolve upon; ſome⯑times he was for cutting Berincour's Throat be⯑fore his Lady's Face, and then to carry things to the utmoſt Extremity. Soon after he was ſpeak⯑ing to the Earl of Angleſey, to deſire ſatisfaction of him, on account of his Daughter: Love, Jea⯑louſy, Honour, Tenderneſs and Hatred, enter'd into a moſt Cruel Combat within his Breaſt. Di⯑ſtracted with theſe various Agitations of his Mind, the Chevalier d' Hereford his Kinſman, and one of his moſt intimate Friends, comes to Twit⯑tenham, to ſpend Two or Three Days with the Earl; who looking upon his Arrival as one of the moſt ſeaſonable things that could have happen'd, deſir'd him to take a Walk upon the Side of the River Thames: They were no ſooner come at ſome Diſtance from thoſe that attended them, but, after a few Moments ſilence, You ſee the moſt un⯑fortunate of Mankind, ſaid he to the Chevalier, I [152] came to this River with no other Intention, than to throw my ſelf to the Bottom of it, to put an end to thoſe Misfortunes I was not Born to. Hereford looking upon him like a Man amaz'd, What has happen'd to you, my Lord, ſaid he? You know I am abſolutely yours, let me be a Sharer in your Diſcontents, perhaps I may help you to ſupport them with the more Patience. Oh! ſaid the Earl, my Pain owes its Original to a Cauſe which exceeds all ordinary Pains: That Exceſs of Friendſhip I always had for my Lady Devonſhire, is now the deadly Cauſe of my Grief. How! cry'd the Chevalier, You don't complain of her? I can't imagine what Reaſon you ſhould have for it. Hear me, ſaid the Earl, interrupting him, and I will leave it to your own Judgment. He then gave him an ample account of the whole Matter, intermixing his Relation with Tender Reproaches, and Violent Threats, no otherwiſe than if he had bin talking to his Lady, whence it was eaſie to gueſs, that it would prove very difficult to moderate his Anger: However, the Chevalier having a fix'd and ſingular Eſteem for the Counteſs, was reſolv'd to undertake the Task.

You are not in a Condition to act in your own Perſon, ſaid he to the Earl, becauſe the Point in Queſtion too nearly concerns you: Your Senſes are impair'd, and you will ſee your Lady's Inno⯑cence, even when you would not ſee it. Well, ſuppoſing the Earl of Warwick's Gentleman to be in your Houſe Diſguis'd like a Gardener, doubt⯑leſs his Maſter ſent him either to aſſiſt him in coming hither Incognito, or to receive his Let⯑ters, and to deliver his Anſwers; it will be no hard matter for you to find out the true reaſon thereof, give him but a little Opium, and having got his Papers into your Hands, you may take the beſt Meaſures you can, without the leaſt Noiſe. [153] If the Earl of Warwick, reply'd the Earl, keeps him here to favour his coming privately into the Houſe, there is no way to find it out, unleſs by the Confeſſion of this Gentleman. No Matter, reply'd the Chevalier, let us begin with my Propo⯑ſal, and we will end, as you ſhall think fit. The Chevalier prevailing with the Earl to follow his Advice, it was agreed to mix ſome Opium in the Gentleman's Drink, by the Aſſiſtance of one of their Faithful Domeſticks, who met with no great Difficulty to perform his Promiſe. Berincour, who had work'd very hard all that Day in the Garden, being much tired at Night, and eager for his Supper, to go to Bed in good time, becauſe he was to riſe next Morning before Day-break, in order to depart with the ſo much deſir'd Anſwer of the Counteſs's, he was to deliver to the Earl.

The Chevalier de Hereford, deſir'd the Earl of Devonſhire to leave the whole Management of this Affair to his Conduct; ſo that entring the pre⯑tended Gardener's Chamber, in Company of that Perſon only who had procur'd the Opium, he found a very large Pacquet about him; what had increas'd its Bulk, was, That the Counteſs being reſolv'd not to keep the Earl of Warwick's Letters, and having not Reſolution enough to burn them, ſhe ſent them back along with her own Letter. The Chevalier much ſurpriz'd at the Sight of the Pacquet, was at a ſtand, whether to give it to the Earl or not, being ignorant of the Contents thereof, which he fear'd might turn to my Lady Devonſhire's Ruin: It was then he made a thouſand Melancholly Reflections upon the Misfortunes unto which too often the Imprudence of young People expoſes them; and had he thought himſelf ſure of his Opinion, he would certainly have a⯑voided to give new cauſe of Trouble to his Kinſ⯑man: [154] But the worſt was, that beſides that, the Domeſtick, who went along with him, had ſeen the Pacquet, the Earl of Devonſhire would not be ſatisfy'd at an eaſie rate. And it prov'd ſo on the ſequel, for he waited for him in a long Gallery, where diſturb'd with his Inquietudes he walk'd up and down a-pace, and no ſooner ſaw the Cheva⯑lier, but laying his Hand to his Sword, not know⯑ing very well what he did, or what he would have, ask'd him abruptly for the Letters. I am a com⯑ing to give them to you, ſaid the Chevalier; and then delivering them to the Earl, he tore the Covert and Signets, and ſoon knew the firſt the Earl's, and then his Lady's Hand writing; at the laſt of which he ſtood very much ſurpriz'd, whilſt the Chevalier was highly pleas'd thereat.

You ſee, my Lord, ſaid he, the Counteſs is not guilty; the Earl of Warwick Perſecutes her, he ſends his Gentleman without her knowledge; ſhe forbids him to Love her; ſhe is angry with him; ſhe will not ſo much as keep his Letters, which would appear pleaſing to any other Woman but her ſelf; What further Satisfaction can you deſire? You repreſent to me, reply'd he, my Wife's Conduct on the faireſt Side; but let us take the thing as really it is, What can you ſay for a young Lady, who ſuffers a Gentle⯑man of ſo dangerous a Perſon as the Earl of War⯑wick is, to ſtay in her Family? Who lets him a⯑bide there in Diſguiſe? Who keeps his Secret? Who receives his Letters? And who in effect tells him that ſhe Loves him, in telling him, That ſhe can't hate him? In what Country beſides this, would ſuch kind of Freedom be allow'd of with Patience? The Chevalier let him go on in his Diſ⯑courſe, without the leaſt Contradiction, for fear of exaſperating him the more, in caſe he ſhould endeavour to convince him by ſtrength of Reaſon, [155] which ſeldom takes place with Perſons infected with Jealouſy; but only conjur'd him, not to diſturb the Repoſe of his whole Family, by noiſing the Thing abroad. At laſt he put him in mind, that the Counteſs had acquir'd the general good Opi⯑nion of all the World, as a Perſon who in all re⯑ſpects anſwer'd the Character of that Education ſhe had by the Care of my Lady her Mother; but that if he ſuffer'd this matter, in the leaſt, to take Vent, the Publick Rumour, which always makes a Monſter of a Fly, would alſo, upon this occaſion, not be ſpairing to aggrandize the Story: That if he would follow his Advice, he ought to manage the Point with the utmoſt Addreſs and Nicety, and to contrive how to make a Breach betwixt her and the Earl; For, ſince it was evi⯑dent by her Letter, that ſhe preferr'd her Duty before all other Conſiderations, it would be no diffiult Task, to ſecure her in that Opinion. Ac⯑cordingly it was agreed betwixt the Earl of De⯑vonſhire and the Chevalier, to keep the whole Secret from the knowledge of the Counteſs, and to write theſe few Words in a Woman's Character to the Earl of Warwick. ‘Let me be at reſt, I will never hear you as much as to be ſpoken of.’

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

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

At laſt, this Diſtemper, the moſt dangerous of all ſorts of Fevers, began to abate by Degrees; his Reaſon, which had lain conceal'd for a great while, began on a ſudden to take its proper Sta⯑tion, and diſplay its Charms: 'Twas now he be⯑gan to compaſſionate his Deſtiny, and be ſenſible of its Hardſhip. The ſame Deſart, which ſo lately had appear'd to him the moſt delightful Place in the World, was now turn'd to the moſt diſagreeable of all others: Hitherto the Days ſeem'd too ſhort for him to ruminate upon his Paſſion, but now they were inſupportable to him; and if now and then he thought of the Counteſs, it was in ſpite of himſelf, and to find out her De⯑fects. He did not think fit to ask the Interceſſion of his Brothers with the King in his behalf, but pitch'd upon another Method: He ſent Berincour [157] to ſuch Friends as he knew could be ſerviceable to him, but more eſpecially to the Earl of Pem⯑brook, to deſire him to acquaint the King, that he was ready to make a ſincere Confeſſion at his Feet, of every thing he had a mind to know concern⯑ing this Intrigue, and that he would promiſe his Majeſty, never to love the Counteſs of Devonſhire any more. This News cauſed no ſmall Satis⯑faction to the Earl of Pembrook, who ſaw him⯑ſelf thus freed from a moſt dangerous Rival, without which he had but little hopes of meet⯑ing with a favourable Reception from the Coun⯑teſs. This engag'd him to make his Applica⯑tion to the King, with the utmoſt of his Zeal: However, that Prince did not think fit to grant a Requeſt made ſo late; but would have his Penance bear ſome Proportion to his Fault; and that he ſhould purchaſe his Pardon by his reiterated Prayers, which he refus'd to hearken to at preſent.

The Chevalier having engag'd the Earl of Devonſhire upon his Honour, not to ſhew the leaſt Indifferency or Anger to his Lady, and every thing being agreed betwixt them, in re⯑lation to the further Management of this Af⯑fair, he went to London, but came back into the Country ſoon after. 'Twas about the ſame time that the Earl of Warwick being recall'd from his Exile⯑ment, thoſe that were the moſt intimate Friends of the Earl of Devonſhire, were the firſt who gave notice thereof to the ſaid Earl; they fur⯑ther told him, That the Earl had never appear'd more Gay in all his Life time, and that he was faln in Love with one of the Maids of Honour of the Dutcheſs of York, a Beautiful young Lady, and of a very good Family. The Earl of Devon⯑ſhire was very ready to read theſe Letters be⯑fore his Lady, who, at that time, diverting [158] her ſelf with making ſome Silk Embrodery-work, was put into ſuch a Confuſion by this unexpect⯑ed Piece of News, that ſhe made ſome Roſes, ſhe was then working at, of a Blue Colour, and Jeſſamins and Jonquilles Green, without being ſen⯑ſible of her Miſtake: The Earl perceiv'd it to his ſingular regret, and would queſtionleſs have diſcover'd the moſt violent Marks of his Re⯑ſentment, had not the Chevalier come into the Room at that very Juncture of time. His Preſence checking the Effects of his Indignation, he gave him an account of what he had obſerv'd: No, ſaid he, there is no room for flattering my ſelf any longer, That ingrateful Creature Loves him; She has too much betray'd the Inclinations of her Heart; I will be Reveng'd. But the Che⯑valier ſo far prevail'd upon him by his moſt earneſt Intreaties, that he was appeas'd for that time.

Within two Days after, the Chevalier de Here⯑ford, as he was Walking with the Counteſs in the Garden, look'd upon this as a favourable Opportunity to manage his Deſign: He told her, He was ſorry he ſhould prove the Occaſion of giving her ſome Diſquiet; but that he could not, without blaming himſelf, forbear to ac⯑quaint her with the Actions of the Earl of Warwick, who had ſo little regard to her Fa⯑vours, as to ſhew her Letters abroad: That one of them being by good Fortune faln into his Hands, he had kept it, and was now come on purpoſe to reſtore it to her. The Counteſs judging no otherwiſe, than that he had bin ſet on by the Earl of Devonſhire, to feel her Pulſe, was a going to check his Boldneſs; but ſoon perceiving her own Hand writing, ſhe turn'd as Pale as Aſhes, but ſoon after a ſudden red⯑neſs over-ſpreading her Face and Boſom, were [159] ſufficient Demonſtrations of her Confuſion and Indignation. My Intentions were too ſincere and unblemiſh'd, ſaid ſhe to the Chevalier, in writing this Billet, to have the leaſt occaſion of diſowning it; and I dare promiſe my ſelf, that, every thing being duly conſider'd, it will turn rather to my Honour than Diſgrace; at the ſame time it makes me ſenſible of the Baſe⯑neſs of the Earl of Warwick, againſt whom I from this time vow an implacable Hatred: He muſt certainly be one of the baſeſt Men li⯑ving, to play me ſuch a Game; but I will aſſure him, it ſhall never be ſaid, he contriv'd my Ruin for his own Diverſion, ſince I will make him feel the Effects of my Reſentment. Ma⯑dam, reply'd the Chevalier, if you will give me leave to adviſe you, ſtifle this Matter, for fear it ſhould come to my Lord Devonſhire's Ears; you know him to be a Man too nice in certain Points; and the laſt time we came hither, he told me ſome part of his Affliction upon the Road: Believe me, Madam, the ſecureſt way a Lady of your Age and Birth can take, is, not to give any occaſion of her being much talk'd of in Publick, ſince there are not wanting every where, ſuch as will put the worſt Interpreta⯑tion upon the moſt Innocent Actions that can be: You live in a numerous Family, and the beſt way to obtain their Commendation, is, not to make your ſelf a publick Diſcourſe at Court, and that it may not be ſaid, the Counteſs of Devonſhire has bin quarreling ſuch a Day, and ſuch a Day, with the Earl of Warwick, be⯑cauſe he ſhew'd a Letter ſhe had written to him.

Whilſt he was talking to her, ſhe kept her Eyes immoveably fix'd on the Ground, and then burſting out into Tears, ſhe thank'd him for [160] his Advice, aſſuring him that ſhe would follow it, being reſolv'd not to appear any more at Court, but to paſs all the remainder of her Days in the Country. The Chevalier told her, it would not be for her good, thus to reſolve upon ſuch an Extream, ſince ſhe could not re⯑fuſe to go along with the Family, if they went to London. She anſwer'd, She was reſolv'd not to go thither, unleſs the Earl her Spouſe ſhould oblige her to it, which ſhe ſuppos'd he would not; for Twittenham being not above Eight or Nine Miles from London, he might go and come at pleaſure, without the leaſt Inconveniency. The Chevalier, finding her ſo reſolute, thought it more convenient to ſeem to approve of her Deſign, than to conteſt any longer in vain, eſpecially ſince he knew the Earl of Devonſhire intended to keep her in the Country for a conſi⯑derable time.

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

My Lady Devonſhire returning into her Cloſet, and throwing her ſelf upon a Couch, without ſaying one Word to Albine, and ſhe perceiving [161] ſome remarkable alterations in her looks, begg'd her to impart to her the reaſon of her Grief. Oh! Unhappy Woman, ſaid the Counteſs with a ſurious look, 'Tis thou that art the Cauſe of my Grief; Thou haſt plagued me to receive the Earl of Warwick's Letters, and it was thou who didſt engage me, in ſpite of all my Fore⯑ſight, to return an anſwer to them. This Per⯑fidious Man has Sacrific'd my Letter to his Mi⯑ſtreſs, which would have bin handed about e⯑very where, had not the Chevalier de Hereford, ſo far concern'd himſelf in my Honour and Quiet, as to put a ſtop to it; perhaps it might by this time have bin in my Husbands Hands: I am ſo highly exaſperated at ſo Notorious an Injury, that I will never either forget or forgive it whilſt I live. Albine appear'd like Thunder⯑ſtruck, without being able to utter one Word; and her Eyes being ſhut. ſhe appear'd like one petrify'd or ſtruck with Death, whilſt my Lady Devonſhire quite overcome with her own Grief, little troubled her ſelf with her Confident. At laſt, Madam, ſaid ſhe, and has the Earl of Warwick Treated you thus unworthily? 'Twas then up⯑on that account only, he ſent his Gentleman hi⯑ther to get one of your Letters into his Hands, to boaſt of your Favours; I proteſt to you, I will not as much as mention him any more, un⯑leſs it be to conjure you, to continue and en⯑creaſe your Hatred to him. There is no need for thy intermedling any further in the Matter, ſaid the Counteſs, thy Buſineſs is not ſo much as to remember his Name in my Preſence; Leave the reſt to my Care, and I will acquit my ſelf in ſuch a manner, that no blame ſhall be laid at my Door.

If it were poſſible, reply'd Albine, after having pauſed a while, to doubt of what one ſees with [162] ones own Eyes, I muſt confeſs to you Madam, I ſhould ſcarce ſo abſolutely Condemn the Earl of Warwick without being heard. None but ſuch mean and ſelf-intereſſed Souls as thine, ſaid the Counteſs, can be Guilty of thus impoſing upon themſelves: As to my ſelf, who give Thanks to God, have nothing in me that Reſembles thee, have fix'd my Reſolutions to Hate him for e⯑ver, and not to ſee him again whilſt I live. You will meet with no ſmall difficulties, to keep either of theſe Reſolutions, reply'd Albine; 'Tis not an eaſie Matter to hate what one loves. I love him, cry'd the Counteſs with ſome impati⯑ence; 'Tis true, I have admitted of his impor⯑tunities, and this is the only thing I have to accuſe my ſelf of, and to reproach you. How unfortunate are Perſons of my Age, continued ſhe, if they happen to have Women of ſo much Complaiſance as yours? Hadſt thou given me a foreſight of the Precipice I was going to, I had ſtop'd in time to avoid the Danger, and had not had any occaſion now of finding my ſelf betray'd: But inſtead of giving me whole⯑ſome Advice, thou madeſt it thy Buſineſs to make me ſenſible of the Merits and Paſſion of my Enemy.

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

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

There being a great Intimacy betwixt him and the Earl of Devonſhire, he took often the free⯑dom of paying him a Viſit at Twittenham; which being a Village but a few Miles from London, He ask'd leave of the King to go thither for ſome ſmall time. You will then ſee the Counteſs of Devonſhire, ſaid the King to him; I would have her come to Court again, becauſe I find her Beauty is much out of Order; I know her Eyes are grown very hollow, her Complexion and Lips Pale, and that ſhe is ſo Lean, as ſcarce to be known to be the ſame Perſon: Thus I ſee my ſelf ſufficiently Reveng'd upon her, and to compleat it, pray tell her, that I intend pri⯑vately [164] to Marry Madam Grey; that I heap Fa⯑vours upon Favours upon her; that I love her moſt Tenderly; and that if ſhe had uſed me well, ſhe might Triumph'd at Court at Pleaſure, whereas, now her Husband keeps her ſhut up in the Country.

Your Majeſty charges me with a Commiſſion, ſaid the Earl, which would eaſily break off my ſmall Journey; For how is it poſſible for me to put ſuch hardſhips upon her? If you are re⯑ſolved to go thither, added the King, it muſt be to ſerve me as an Interview to her. The Earl told him, He would do it in the moſt Gen⯑tle way he could, and ſo leaving the King's Apartment, met with the Earl of Warwick as he was paſſing through the Guard-Chamber: Having a mind to ſound his Inclinations con⯑cerning his former Paſſion for the Counteſs, I am a going, ſaid he with a low Voice, to lye at the Lady Angleſey's this Night, Have you any Commiſſion to entruſt me with? The Earl being ſomewhat Surprized, did not anſwer immediate⯑ly; but ſoon after told him, he was a going to ſee a Fair, Little-Lyrneſs, and that he envy'd not his Fortune. You are angry, my Lord, re⯑ply'd the Earl of Pembrook, and I find there is more of Paſſion than of Indifferency, in that you ſay of the Counteſs of Devonſhire. You know but little, return'd the Earl coldly, if this is your real Sentiment: Don't you know, that I am all of a Piece, and know not what Diſſembling is? The Earl of Pembrook, having a mind to pry further into his Inclinations, told him, You think your ſelf Cured, when you are ſtill very Sick. I am not ſuch a Novice, reply'd he, not to know my own Condition; I read over her obliging Farewell every day, and it is there I meet with what is ſufficient to ſupport my Rea⯑ſon, [165] and to augment my Scorn. Then you ſtill ſtand in need of a Counterpoiſon, cry'd the Earl of Pembrook, you are not quite clear, ſay what you will. This is to inſult over me, return'd the Earl with a ſerious look; Sure you take me for a mean Spirited Fellow: I aſſure you, I don't ſo much as think any more of her. I knew ſhe was Ill, and I heard it not without ſome Satis⯑faction, which ſufficiently convinces me, that Thanks to Heaven, ſhe has no farther Power o⯑ver me: It were happy for me, added he, could I be Cured now as well of my Hatred, as I have bin of Love; I ſhould then have but lit⯑tle occaſion to diſpute with the King, as I now do about Madam Grey; and tho' he Adores her, I don't queſtion but to be Reveng'd of her, firſt or laſt, according as a favourable opportunity of⯑fers. How, ſaid the Earl of Pembrook, and do you ſtill keep in remembrance, what ſhe did a⯑gainſt you? I ſhall never forgive her, ſaid the Earl, till ſhe has well ſuffer'd for it; and till then, I will give my ſelf the Satisfaction of be⯑ing the moſt Cruel of all her Enemies.

By this time, ſeveral Perſons coming in to in⯑terrupt their Diſcourſe, the Earls of Warwick and Pembrook parted, the laſt being extreamly well Satisfy'd at what he had heard his Rival ſay; But ſcarce was got down the Stairs when hear⯑ing himſelf call'd by ſome body, found it was the Earl of Warwick; I Conjure you, ſaid he to him, not to miſs of this Opportunity of telling her, how far I am bewitch'd to my new Miſtreſs; for I would have Madam Devonſhire know, that her Fetters are not everlaſting; that I had Power enough to change them, nay, that I am almoſt inconſolable, to have ever worn them. That is enough for me, ſaid my Lord Pembrook, to tell her, what will pleaſe her much. And why [166] pleaſe her, ſaid the Earl of Warwick? That is the leaſt of my intention. I am Satisfy'd, ſaid the Earl of Pembrook, with a Malicious Smile, She will be overjoy'd to hear you think of her no more. The Earl of Warwick, not being a⯑ble to contain himſelf, told him with a deep Sigh, Alas! my Lord, how happy are you, not to be in Love with this Cruel Woman; I wou'd I never knew her, or at leaſt never lov'd her, at the Price of half my Life: But Farewell, I muſt leave you, the Recital of my weakneſs would prove to my Confuſion.

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

A Thouſand objections came into his Head a⯑gainſt the intended Journey to Twittenham; but at laſt, let my Treatment be what it will, I ſhall have at leaſt the Satisfaction of having declared my Paſſion to her; ſo, that if I ſuffer, ſhe'll know 'tis for [167] her I ſuffer, and of all the Misfortunes, this is greateſt, to Love and to Conceal it. Whilſt he was taking this Reſolution, he eſpy'd my Lord Stanley, and ask'd him, whether they ſhould not go together to Twittenham? He embraced the of⯑fer, and they were received with ſingular kind⯑neſs by the Earl of Devonſhire, who was very glad of good Company, to divert his Spleen, which moſt afflicted him when he was alone.

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

To perform his Promiſe, he went to a little Wood, where the Earl had bin paſſing his time ever ſince day-break, near a Cool Spring, where the Counteſs uſed often to divert her ſelf; He ſaw Aurora diſſipating by degrees the darkneſs of the Night, whilſt the Sweet Singing Birds ſeem'd to revive Nature it ſelf, during the Cold⯑neſs of the Morning, when the Sun Beams being as yet feeble, rather delighted than offended the Eyes. The Earl addreſs'd himſelf to the Stars, and told them his Pain and Perplexity; He would have thought his Condition ſufficiently happy to find himſelf in the ſame place, where [168] his admir'd Counteſs had her Habitation, had ſhe bin more ſenſible for him, or leſs for another; but this Reflection was like to kill him upon the ſpot, had it not bin that he remembred thoſe few cruel Words ſhe writ to the Earl of Warwick; This being the only Foundation whereon he built the hopes of his Succeſs, in the intended Declaration of his Love.

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

I muſt own to you, ſaid he, That to forget the ingrateful Lelia, I reſolv'd to enter into an Amorous Engagement, in good earneſt, with a Lady who might really deſerve it; 'Twas not long before I got acquainted with a Widow, a moſt Charming Creature; who, tho' ſhe was paſs'd the firſt Flower of her Youth, yet ſtill retain'd a thouſand Beauties, whoſe Luſtre was encreas'd by her lively Wit and moſt enga⯑ging Converſation: She gave me great De⯑monſtrations of her Eſteem, tho' ſhe pretended to a moſt ſevere Virtue; but in hopes that time would produce more favourable Sentiments [169] in her, I Courted her with all the Ardour and Application that could be: But one Day hap⯑pening to come to her Houſe, when ſhe did not expect me, I enter'd the Door, and in a great Lookinglaſs that hung in her Bed-chamber and faced the Entry, I eſpy'd a certain young Pedaut, who being lately come out of ſome Univerſity-Colledge, ſhe had made a Tutor to her Son; if you had but ſeen his lank greeſy Hair, you muſt have own'd he would make but a very lothſome Bed-fellow for ſo Nice a Lady; be⯑ſides that, his Face was ſo ugly, as was enough to frighten me: So away I went immediately, but did not forget to write her every thing that Anger could inſpire me with, and to give her to underſtand the reaſon of it, and my conſtant Averſion to ſuch pretended Virtuous Ladies. She touch'd to the quick, and think⯑ing it leſs Diſadvantagious to make me her Con⯑fident, than to let me have a ſiniſter Opinion of her Virtue, ſent to me one of her Relations, being the only Perſon that was Privy to her Marriage with this Fellow, who gave me a full Account of it. I proteſt to you, that I was more ſurpriz'd at this than at the firſt; but you may believe I made the beſt uſe of it, [...] was to Cure my ſelf of my Paſſion, it being contrary to my Inclinations, to love what I can't eſteem: However, I am forced to offer conſtant Violences to my Heart, and have taken a poſitive Reſo⯑lution, to avoid all Lady's as the Bane of our Tranquillity; and whenever I feel but the leaſt Inclination for any one, I am ſure I will never ſee her again whilſt I live.

You threaten the Fair Sex very hard, and I believe more than you are able to perform, re⯑ply'd my Lord Stanley. I think we may both defie them, ſaid the Earl abruptly. My Siſter [170] will give you a favourable Reception, reply'd my Lord, if ſhe be but acquainted with your Re⯑ſolution. How! return'd the Earl, Would ſhe not have one Love that which is lovely? No, added my Lord, ſhe is ſuch an Enemy of all man⯑ner of Gallantry, that nothing can be more ter⯑rible than ſhe to a Lover: Come then, let us go to ſee her, and do you make her ſenſible of your rare Reſolution. Had my Lord bin ſenſible what Affections theſe Words caus'd in his Friend, he would have acted with more Caution, and he might ſoon have diſcover'd the Symptoms thereof in his very Eyes, had he but look'd at him; but little gueſſing at his Intentions, he thought no further on the matter.

Whilſt the Earl of Pembrook was going to⯑wards the Counteſs's Apartment, he was op⯑preſs'd with ſuch a Confuſion of Thoughts as is ſcarce to be expreſs'd: Are not my Chains already weighty enough, ſaid he to himſelf? Muſt I go to ſee her, to augment my Paſſion? And can I flatter my ſelf that the Earl of Warwick is ab⯑ſolutely indifferent to her? 'Tis true, ſhe has writ to him in harſh Terms; but alaſs! this may be the effect of Anger, Jealouſy, or ſome Error committed by him; theſe things are ſoon paſs'd by, when a Perſon truly loves; ſo that the Re⯑ſolution I have taken of diſcloſing to her my Paſſion, may prove perhaps the moſt fatal Acti⯑on of my Life. He was a thouſand times upon the point of changing his dangerous Reſolution; but the Pleaſure he propos'd to himſelf, got the better over all the Conſiderations of Danger; and thus as he was entring the Counteſs's Bed-Chamber, he had much a-do to forbear running ſtraightways to the Fair Lady's Bed-ſide, where ſhe appear'd in a negligent Dreſs, attired with no⯑thing but her own Charms, with ſomewhat a [171] Pale Countenance, enough to diſcover her Grief; but in the midſt of her Languiſhment, there ap⯑pear'd ſtill ſuch a Luſtre in her Eyes, as prov'd dangerous in effect, to all that beheld them.

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

By your Abſence, Madam, ſaid he, the Court is robb'd of its chiefeſt Ornament; every thing looks very Melancholly there, ſince you have left it. I uſed to appear there ſo ſeldom, re⯑ply'd ſhe, that I can ſcarce be miſs'd. 'Tis far, Madam, from what you gueſs at, ſaid he; the [172] King often ſpeaks of you, and the Earl of Warwick cannot forget you. What is it you tell me, my Lord, ſaid ſhe with a Bluſh? The King ſaw me by chance, at a Seat near Windſor, where he was receiv'd with that Reſpect as was due to his Perſon, and has never look'd after me ſince. The Earl came along with General Talbot, to pay a Viſit to my Lord Devonſhire, and I never ſaw him above twice or thrice in my Life. I can't but conclude from what you ſay, added the Earl, that you have quite raz'd him out of your Me⯑mory, and rejoice at it, as at a Piece of good News.

At theſe Words, the Counteſs not queſtion⯑ing, but that the ſame Letter which was reſtor'd to her by the Chevalier de Hereford, was alſo faln into the Hands of the Earl of Pembrook, ſhe was ſo afflicted thereat, as to break forth into Tears. Oh! cry'd the Earl, kneeling before her Bed-ſide, What is it I ſee! you are in Tears my Divine Counteſs, you Weep: This Happy Mortal has coſt you many a Sigh. Don't miſconſtrue my juſt Indignation by falſe Appearances, ſaid ſhe to him; and believe me, that I hate the Earl of Warwick, as he deſerves. You hate him, Ma⯑dam? Yes, I hate him, ſaid ſhe, the very Re⯑membrance of him is inſupportable to me. He is ſtill happier than I, reply'd the Earl ſighing, you don't hate him, till after having honour'd him with your particular Eſteem, whilſt you look upon me with ſo indifferent an Eye, as if I was not worth your Hatred: But, Madam, continu'd he, ſince he has bin ſo bold as to Love you, and you have known it without being offended at it; May not I be permitted to ſay that I feel for you all that Admiration, the moſt paſſionate Reſpect, and a moſt ſincere Paſſion, are able to inſpire a Man with? I don't propoſe to raiſe my [173] Fortune upon the Ruins of his; or to deſerve any thing at your Hands, at the Price of his De⯑ſtruction; tho' he be a very dangerous Rival, I have within me a certain Generoſity, that does not in the leaſt agree with ſuch Actions: But give me leave to declare to you my real Sentiments, they being ſuch as will not wound your Virtue; and the Flame of that great Light which affords us the ſatisfaction of the Day, is not compos'd of a purer Matter than that which burns in my Heart. My Lord, ſaid the Counteſs, inter⯑rupting him, you have taken too much the Ad⯑vantage of the Confuſion and Trouble you ſaw me in; you have told me what highly diſ⯑pleaſes me, and what convinces me more and more in my Opinion, that there is not a more unfortunate Perſon upon Earth than my ſelf: Were the Earl of Warwick of a more honour⯑able Temper, than he is, he would not have forgotten to tell you when he ſpoke of our Converſation, that I never gave him any oc⯑caſion of bragging of his good Fortune, and that I omitted nothing to deliver my ſelf from his Perſecutions: But that fatal Star, which beſtow'd upon me ſomething of Beauty, did it doubtleſs to my Deſtruction; it would be more happy for me to be hated by all the World, than to be belov'd after the ſame manner I am now: But be it as it will, my Lord, I have too high an Eſteem for you to quarrel with you; I will forget every thing you told me, provided you promiſe not to ſee me any more. What an odd ſort of Pardon is this, Madam, reply'd he abrupt⯑ly; What to promiſe, to avoid ſeeing you? No, no, I am not any more thus far Maſter of my own Actions, as to engage my Word for a thing of ſuch a nature: Alas! what is it I have not en⯑dur'd ſince I ſaw you in the Wood near Chel⯑ſea, [174] in the utmoſt Luſtre of your Beauty! You may talk what you pleaſe, anſwer'd the Counteſs, were I not in Bed, I would leave you; but my Mind is taken up with ſuch variety of things, that it is an eaſie matter for me not to hear you.

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

He came not to London till it was late, that he might the better keep conceal'd for ſome Days in his own Houſe; which time he ſpent in endeavouring to calm the Tempeſt in his Mind: After that he came to Court, where he met with a favourable Reception from the King, who ask'd him, whether he had acquitted himſelf of the Commiſſion he had charg'd him with? The [175] Earl told him, That he could find no Opportu⯑nity of ſpeaking to her alone, and that it ſeem'd as if ſhe knew his Errand, by her being ſo cau⯑tious in avoiding it. She was not much in the wrong of it, ſaid the King ſmiling; but you can't but own, that ſhe is much alter'd, and ſo I am reveng'd of her. The Earl of Pembrook, who had reaſon enough to wiſh that his Maſter might think of her no more, reply'd, She was ſcarce to be known, and that it ſeem'd almoſt not natural for ſo Handſome a Perſon to grow ſo Ugly. Her ex⯑travagant Love for the Earl of Warwick, is the cauſe of it, ſaid the King; But do you imagine that ſhe ſtill loves him? Sir, reply'd he, I had ſight of her but one Moment; ſhe ſeem'd to be full of Grief, but ſpoke not a Word of the Earl of Warwick. He will not be concern'd at it, added the King, he loves her no more; his predominant Paſſion is, to plague Madam Grey, he hates her mortally, and would always perſuade me, that ſhe is Unfaithful, but I am too well acquainted with the cauſe of his Hatred to believe him; I would have you tell him, that I don't like it; that every thing he ſays upon that Head appears ſuſpicious to me; and that if he will oblige me, he ſhall make his Court to her.

The Earl of Pembrook being very well inclin'd to execute the King's Command, went immediate⯑ly to the Earl of Warwick, who receiv'd him with all the Marks of a tender Friendſhip: What News do you bring me, ſaid the Earl, from Madam De⯑vonſhire, Is ſhe ſtill in the ſame Humour againſt me? She is in ſo languiſhing a Condition, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook, that I believe ſhe has not ſtrength enough left to love or hate any thing; and I never ſaw her but in Company, where there was no Opportunity of talking of you. I am overjoy'd you have no News to tell me from her, [176] continu'd the Earl of Warwick, which might have ſtopt my Progreſs in what I have advanc'd within theſe few Days; 'tis true, my Lord, I have almoſt quite forgot her. I congratulate you, anſwer'd the Earl of Pembrook coldly; but can ſcarce believe you. I have ſince made many ſerious Reflections upon every particular relating to that Affair, added the Earl of Warwick, and find nothing but matter of Trouble and Vexation in it: You know what I have told you before, upon that Head; I never enjoy'd one Day with Content; I was forc'd to hazard every thing, to get ſight of her but for one Moment, and that even againſt her Conſent; I was ſurrounded by the King and the General on one ſide, and by her Husband and Madam Grey on the other; Judge what a ſort of Entertainment this was, for one not ac⯑quainted with Diſappointments: However, I lov'd her too well, to be check'd by theſe Difficulties, none but her ſelf could have alter'd my Reſolu⯑tion; you know how ſhe managed the matter, and what a moſt gracious Farewel ſhe beſtow'd upon me, whilſt I ſuffer'd ſuch a harſh Baniſhment upon her account: All theſe Reaſons have had ſuch an Influence upon me, that I begin to reliſh the Sweets of a real Indifferency; add to this my Engagement with a lovely Perſon, who treats me as well as the Counteſs did ill, you can't but agree with me, That I could not do better, than to take a fix'd Reſolution of conſulting my own Repoſe.

The Earl of Pembrook hearken'd to his Words with a great deal of Pleaſure; Oh! ſaid he to him⯑ſelf, and why ſhould the Fair Counteſs not be acquainted with the Earl of Warwick's Indiffe⯑rency for her? 'Tis poſſible a Noble and Generous Anger may plead in my behalf. Then remem⯑bering the King's Command, Believe me, ſaid he, [177] my Lord, you ſhould give a Viſit to Madam Grey, and if you can't prevail ſo far upon your ſelf, as to forgive her in good earneſt, do it at leaſt in outward appearance; 'tis no ſmall Trouble to the King, to ſee his Favourite and his Miſtreſs always at open War; and you talk of her to him, in ſo diſobliging a manner, that, inſtead of making your Court, you diſpleaſe him. I am ſenſible of it as much as your ſelf, reply'd the Earl, and know my ſelf in the wrong, to take ſo much pains to Cure him of a Paſſion, which will carry him too far for his Glory: I am alſo willing to own to you, that I ſhould ſcarce be ſo Zealous in the matter, were it not to revenge my ſelf for what ſhe has done to me; ſo tht, as the Caſe ſtands, I can do no other⯑wiſe, than to be her declar'd Enemy. After your return from Caerleon, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook, you gave your Word to the King, That you would live in a good Correſpondence with her. And ſo I would, ſaid he, did ſhe uſe me well: But is it not an odd thing, that he is diſſatisfy'd with me, becauſe I am ſenſible of her immenſurable ambitious Deſigns? You are prevented by Paſſion, reply'd the Earl of Pembrook; 'Tis hard to imagine, that her Deſigns reach ſo high, ſhe being the Widow only of a private Gentleman. No mat⯑ter for that, ſaid the Earl of Warwick, ſhe to well knows her own ſtrength: So they parted. The Earl of Pembrook being highly rejoic'd at what he had heard the Earl of Warwick con⯑feſs during this Converſation; ſo that think⯑ing himſelf freed of a Dangerous Rival, he made his Court to the King; but did not neglect to infuſe into the King ſuch Sentiments concern⯑ing Madam Grey, as might make him be upon his Guard.

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

'Twas this that made him ſo anxious in taking that occaſion of ſetting her at Variance with the Earl of Warwick; for a Secret Lover has gain'd a good Step, if he can remove the Perſon belov'd by his Miſtreſs. Every thing ſucceeded accord⯑ing to his deſire; my Lady Devonſhire miſ⯑led by the Honourable deportment of the Che⯑valier, conceiv'd a Hatred againſt the Earl of Warwick; ſhe deteſted his Perfidiouſneſs, as on the other Hand ſhe thought her ſelf oblig'd to the Chevalier, for having reſtor'd her Letter to her: This Obligation join'd to the Confidence her Lord put in him, induc'd her to ſee him frequently, and even to talk to him with an abſolute ſincerity. [179] Several Months paſs'd thus, the Chevalier being not as yet fully acquainted with his own Senti⯑ments. I told you before, he thought it was only Eſteem and Compaſſion that engag'd him in her Intereſt, to inveigh againſt the Earl of Warwick, and make her raze him out of her Remembrance: But Love is an Evil that will not lye conceal'd, he began to be ſenſible that he was catch'd in the Snare himſelf, he did all he could to Cure his Paſſion, but it prov'd too late. On the other Hand, the Counteſs ſhewing him a Thouſand inno⯑cent Marks of her Friendſhip, to acquire his, each of theſe prov'd a Snare, wherein the Chevalier ſaw himſelf entangled paſt all Hopes of get⯑ting out: For upon his return London, where he intended to ſtay for ſome time, every thing prov'd as irkſome to him, as if he had bin in a ſtrange Country; his only ſatis⯑faction in the World now being, to ſee the Counteſs.

All this while, he loaded himſelf with a Thou⯑ſand Reproaches, to abuſe thus the Friendſhip of the Earl of Devonſhire, his Dear Kinſman, who had open'd his very Boſom to him; No, would he cry ſometimes, I will ſee her no more, I will chooſe a voluntary Baniſhment from that Houſe, where my Reception is ſuch as to diſturb all my Repoſe. He ſtaid for ſome time at London, and thought to divert himſelf with appearing con⯑ſtantly at Court, but all this was unpleaſing to him; he was forced, in ſpite of himſelf, to return to my Lord Devonſhire's. Whilſt he was thus ſtruggling with the moſt violent Paſſions, that ever a Man did, he fell moſt dangerouſly ill at Twittenham; the Counteſs being juſt then upon her Recovery, and of a very grateful Temper, being ſenſible alſo, that to take Care of the Chevalier, [180] was in effect to oblige her Husband, would ſit whole Days together by his Bed-ſide; which piece of Goodneſs was ſo far from accelerating his Cure, that as often as ſhe came into the Chamber his Fever encreas'd: At laſt, his Condition became ſo dangerous, that the Phyſitians advis'd him to be carry'd to London.

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

He ſaid no more, after having utter'd theſe few Words, his Eyes ſeeming as if he look'd for Mercy in Madam Devonſhire's Face; and ſhe actual⯑ly look'd upon him with more Compaſſion than Anger: I have ſome Obligations to you, Cheva⯑lier, [181] ſaid ſhe, I can't forget, in ſpite of the Diſplea⯑ſure you give me at this time; but he aſſur'd, I never receiv'd any that affected me more: Alas! I conſider'd you as a faithful Friend, in whoſe Con⯑verſation I might find ſome Relief againſt thoſe Vexations which have ſo ſenſibly afflicted me for ſome time paſt, and now I muſt loſe you: Oh! that unfortune Beauty, which to another would prove an Object of Satisfaction, is to me a conſtant Source of Pain, which are renew'd every Day to me. The abundance of Tears that fell from her Fair Eyes, intermix'd with Sobs and Sighs, would not give her leave to ſay more: But the Chevalier, taking the Word, What is it I ſee, cry'd he! Ma⯑dam you Cry! and I am in ſome meaſure the occa⯑ſion of it; Will my Death be a ſufficient Expia⯑tion of my Crime? I don't wiſh for your Death, reply'd ſhe, but for your Cure; and ſo perfect a Cure, that you may never ſpeak to me again in the ſame manner as you did juſt now. I have not power enough to make you ſuch a Promiſe, ſaid he, it will be much eaſier for me, to avoid the Sight of you, than to ſtifle a Paſſion, I ſhall be forc'd to cheriſh in ſpite of all your Rigour; Why was not I made the Earl of Warwick? Is it poſſi⯑ble, ſaid the Counteſs, not without ſome Symptoms of Indignation, that, if you have thoſe Sentiments for me, you juſt now diſcover'd? Is it poſſible, I ſay, you ſhould envy the Fortune of him, who is the moſt Cruel Enemy I have in the World? Alas! Madam, ſaid he to her, you deceive your ſelf, if you believe you hate my Lord Warwick; that Se⯑cret Concern I had in diving into your real Senti⯑ments, has often made me ſpeak of him without any Diffidence or Diſſimulation; I have bin too ſenſible, that he is ſtill very dear to you, and it has often brought me to the Brink of Deſpair: [182] but, Madam, the Eſteem I bore you, made me keep Silence; I durſt not make you ſenſible of your own Sentiments; my fear of diſcompoſing or diſpleaſing you was ſuch an untreſpaſſable Law to me, as to fain that I did not perceive the aſcendant he got over your Heart; and tho' I was very aſſiduous in removing thoſe Jealouſies, which ſo much afflicted the Earl of Devonſhire, I talk'd to him againſt my own Knowledge; but I ſpoke to him, Madam, for your Repoſe, being ready at the ſame time to ſacrifice all mine to yours.

Tho' you are very much miſtaken in your Gueſs, ſaid the Counteſs, interrupting him, I think my ſelf nevertheleſs oblig'd to your Conduct, both in re⯑ſpect of my Husband and my ſelf; but I can aſſure you, were you leſs prejudic'd than you are, or better acquainted with my preſent Inclinations, you would not accuſe me, as you do, of ſo much Weakneſs, to return any favourable Sentiments for the moſt diſhonourable Perſon in the World; Nay, I would ſooner have pardon'd him, for having contriv'd my Death, than for having endeavour'd to ſtain my Reputation in the World: Then you don't love him, reply'd the Chevalier ſighing? I hate him paſs'd all recovery, ſaid ſhe. If it be ſo, continu'd he, May I hope for nothing from your Compaſſion? You may be aſſur'd, anſwer'd ſhe, that I will forget every thing you told me to Day, provided you give me no reaſon of Complaint for the future. I rather will chooſe a voluntary Exile, ſaid he, I am not in a Condition to keep my Word upon that point, as you require: I muſt then, Madam, forbear ſeeing you, and the Earl of Devonſhire will perhaps not be in a better Humour; for I have often calm'd his Rage, and no other but my ſelf would have known how to [183] merit ſomething from you upon that ſcore. But, ſaid ſhe, interrupting him, Is it poſſible you ſhould bare ſo little reſpect to him, as to talk to me at the rate you do? I proteſt to you, I can ſcarce believe it; and that of all Mankind, who are ſub⯑ject to ſuch Frailties, you were the laſt one I ſuſ⯑pected in that kind. I can't juſtify my Conduct, ſaid he; if it is a Crime, Madam, I ſuppoſe I ſhall ſoon expiate it by the Loſs of a Life, that has bin for a long time odious to me. He had ſcarce ut⯑ter'd theſe laſt Words, when falling into a Swoon, all his Senſes left him, and the Counteſs divided betwixt Compaſſion and Reſentment, call'd for Help; but at the ſame time left the Room, and retir'd to her own Chamber, where ſhe found Al⯑bine, who then had not as yet forfeited all her Credit with her.

Alas! Albine, ſaid ſhe to her, full of Trouble, what a ſtrange Scene has bin acted here! my Misfortunes, inſtead of diminiſhing, encreaſe every Moment: The Chevalier de Hereford has made to me ſuch a Declaration, as puts me quite beyond my ſelf; him I look'd upon as my beſt Friend, but he proves as indiſcreet as the Earl of Pembrook; beſides, I am under a great Dilemma how to deal with him; for if I uſe him roughly, he will perhaps be re⯑vengeful, and you know my Lord hearkens to, and believes every thing he ſays; if I ſhew him ſome Complaiſance, What Conſtruction will he make of my Indulgence? and what is it I muſt not fear hereafter? This will render my Condition but worſe; and after all, Am I Miſtreſs of my own Heart? Of that Heart, I ſay, ſo often revolts againſt all the Dictates of my Reaſon? Which is ſo very frail, as to make me to this Day, diſcover ſome Merit in my moſt Mortal Enemy: Yes, Al⯑bine, 'Tis not is my power to hate the Earl of Warwick; How Happy am I in not ſeeing [184] him! How much am I in Love with this Solitude! 'Tis true, I ſuffer here, but no mat⯑ter, as long as I preſerve here my Inno⯑cency.

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

Immediately after, the Earl of Devonſhire com⯑ing into the Chamber, and ſeeing the dangerous State of his Kinſman, was much afflicted thereat, and being the only Perſon whom he had made the Confident of his Jealouſy, he reſolv'd to go along with him to London, and to ſtay there till his full Recovery. He told the Counteſs that he in⯑tended to go to London, becauſe he ſhould not enjoy himſelf in the Country, if he ſhould let him go alone; and that, if his Diſtemper ſhould prove of any long Continuance, he deſir'd Madam Angleſey [185] and her, to come to Town likewiſe: She anſwer'd coldly, that he might have diſpens'd himſelf from going, by committing him to the Care of ſome truſty Perſon; But that he was his own Maſter, and that her Credit was ſo inconſiderable with him, that ſhe durſt not attempt to engage him to ſtay at Twittenham. He gave her a ſurly Look, and without ſpeaking one Word, went out of the Room. Soon after, hearing a Noiſe in the Court, ſhe found it was the Chevalier de Hereford and the Earl of Devonſhire, both upon their Departure for London, the firſt in a Horſe-Litter, and the other in his Coach. They were no ſooner arriv'd there, but the Earls of Warwick and Pembrook being the firſt that got Notice thereof, this ſerv'd to revive their Paſſions: For the Earl of Warwick could not flatter himſelf to ſpeak to the Counteſs, as long as her Husband Argus-like watch'd her him⯑ſelf; and the Earl of Pembrook imagin'd, that be⯑ing now at Liberty, ſhe would enjoy the Advan⯑tage thereof, and afford him a more favourable Reception.

He was ſo far from making the leaſt Miſtery of his intended Journey to Twittenham, that he viſited the Earl of Devonſhire upon that account, who gave him ſome Letters to his Lady; However, he conceal'd it from the Earl of Warwick, whom he ſtill look'd upon as his Rival; notwithſtanding the Hatred he bore to Madam Grey, and the Pains he took to encompaſs her Ruin, ſeem'd to divert his Paſſion a contrary way. As ſhe was not igno⯑rant of all the Steps he took for that end, and on her ſide repay'd him in the ſame Coin; the King was conſtantly troubled with the Complaints of his Favourite againſt his Miſtreſs, and with hers againſt him. He was engag'd in the ſame Intereſt with Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, a Lady of Quality, and [186] of extraordinary Beauty: The King, whilſt he was yet Earl of Marche, enter'd into an Amorous Intrigue with her, which was not interrupted by the Luſtre of his Crown; but the Charms both of Mind and Body, join'd in the Perſon of Madam Grey, did not a little dazzle and prevail over thoſe of the young Mrs. Lucy. She reſented the matter like an injur'd Miſtreſs, and would fre⯑quently engage the Earl of Warwick, to give the King an account of the ſiniſter Conduct of Madam Grey: But this coming from a ſuſpected Hand, whom he knew to be her Enemy, the King would ſay, This lovely Widow is faithful to me; Why would you have me check my Paſſion for her? And who can you think of, ſhould be the Perſon, ſhe would prefer before me? If Love and Reaſon did always go Hand in Hand, reply'd the Earl, your Majeſty might reſt aſſur'd, that Madam Grey was ſenſible of her Good Fortune, and that what I ſay againſt her, was not conſonant to Truth; but, Sir, Love is Blind; put her to the Trial, and to ſuch a one as may put it beyond all Doubt, that you are in full Poſſeſſion of her Heart, or at leaſt, that may juſtify her Conduct. The King tir'd out with theſe repeated Accuſations, told him one Day, That he ow'd him no Obligation for the Trouble he gave himſelf. I deſire no Reward from your Majeſty, reply'd he, with a great deal of Frankneſs; but I ſhall at leaſt have the ſatisfaction of having done my Duty. Oh! ſaid the King, your Zeal is very troubleſome, you may ſhew it upon other Occaſions, and not diſturb me any further in Mat⯑ters relating to my Miſtreſs. But all this did not check the Earl of Warwick's Reſolution, he often told the King many things of her, which prov'd moſt generally falſe, but at the ſame time furniſh'd no ſmall matter of Vexation to the Fair Widow; [187] and what moſt of all afflicted her, was, that he was ready upon all Occaſions, to extol the Merits of Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, who ſhe fear'd might one time or other alienate the King's Inclinations from her; ſo that ſhe was at open Enmity with the Earl.

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

The Earl of Pembrook had alſo not laid aſide his deſign, being deſirous to dive into thoſe of the Earl of Warwick, entred into diſcourſe with him concerning my Lady Devonſhire; and the Earl not in the leaſt imagining that he talk'd to his Rival, told him, without the leaſt reſerve, that, were it not for ſome buſineſs of the greateſt Conſequence, he had at Court, he would endeavour to ſee the fair Counteſs in Diſguiſe. Pembrook overjoy'd to find the Earl employ'd otherwiſe, reſolved not to loſe a moment, to accompliſh the deſign he had [188] laid of carrying away the Counteſs to one of his Seats, where he intended to keep her ſecretly as long as poſſibly he could, with⯑out hearkening to, or valuing the Danger, which his Reaſon laid before him: For he was in Love, and that is all as can be ſaid in his Juſti⯑fication.

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

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

The Counteſs more enrag'd than before, told him, She would not ſee him while ſhe liv'd; and that before they could bring her to the Place where the Earl of Warwick was, ſhe would either Drown or Kill her ſelf with her own Hands. The Exceſs of her Deſpair diſcover'd it ſelf, both in her Countenance and Actions; 'tis true, ſhe did not Cry, but caſting moſt furious Looks to the Water, ſhew'd that ſhe aim'd at the River. The Earl of Pembrook lay at her Feet, not daring to diſcover himſelf for fear of encreaſing her Fury; but did all he could to appeaſe it, telling her, He would carry her back to Twittenham, if ſhe was poſi⯑tively bent upon it. She vouchſafed him not one Word, but on a ſudden threw her ſelf into the Thames. Good God! What a ſurprize was this to her Paſſionate Lover! He little thought ſhe would have taken ſo fatal a Reſolution, and now deſpiſing his own Life, leap'd in after her: Being a [190] good Swimmer he ſoon got hold of her Gown, as ſhe was riſing in the Water; but not withſtanding this, they had both bin drown'd together, had not ſome of their Water-men come timely to their aſſiſtance.

The Women of her Attendence, ſeeing their Miſtreſs without Senſe or Motion, ſent forth moſt doleful Cries to Heaven: And the Earl of Pem⯑brook ſeeing, that ſince the Plot would not take under the Name of the Earl of Warwick, there was but little Hopes for him; reſolv'd, without diſcovering himſelf, to ſet the Counteſs down where he had taken her up. Madam, ſaid he to her, after ſhe was come to her ſelf again, you need not have thus hazarded your Life, by throwing your ſelf into the River, to force me to turn back to Twittenham; our Intention was, to make you Happy, but ſince you're againſt it, there is no rea⯑ſon we ſhould incur your Hatred, when our Buſi⯑neſs was to deſerve your Good-will: Live, Ma⯑dam, Live for a Jealous Husband; fly your trueſt Friend; 'tis your ill Star that Rules you, and you will have occaſion enough to repent of it hereafter. Away, away, Impoſtor, ſaid ſhe, go and try your Skill upon ſome leſs Virtuous or more Credulous Perſon than my ſelf; and thank Heavens, I am of the weaker Sex, or elſe I would make you feel the Effects of my juſt Reſentment, for the Game you were going to play me. Whilſt they were talking thus, they were got ſo near the Bank of the River, that by the help of a long Plank, the Counteſs and her Women could get conveniently out of the Barge; the Earl of Pembrook, having chang'd his Indian Habit for that of an European, did the ſame not long after on the oppoſite Side; and Night approaching, gave them an Opportunity of unloading the Cargo, and [191] having ſet Fire to the Veſſel, they all got to London; without which they might have ſoon bin diſcover'd and taken by the Country Peo⯑ple.

In effect the Counteſs of Devonſhire her ſelf, im⯑mediately prepar'd her ſelf againſt the ill Conſe⯑quences, which ſhe foreſaw would attend this At⯑tempt: For ſome of the Inhabitants of Twitten⯑ham, had ſeen her go into the Barge, which im⯑mediately made the beſt of her Way down the River; others had ſeen her plunge her ſelf into the River, and the Indian-Merchant after her; all which cauſing no ſmall ſurprize, the News thereof was ſoon carry'd to the Earl of Angleſey. The old Counteſs uneaſie, to know what was become of her Daughter, run to the River-ſide, where ſhe found her Wet all over, juſt after ſhe was ſcarce well got out of the Boat, and ask'd her very abruptly, What a fine Walk ſhe had taken. The young Counteſs appear'd much diſcompos'd, which creating a Suſpicion in her Mother, ſhe told her without ſtaying for her Anſwer, She had play'd ſome Trick of Youth, wherein Love had a greater Share than Reaſon. I proteſt to you, Madam, reply'd the Counteſs of Devonſhire, you do me the greateſt piece of Injuſtice in the World; you have taken a Prejudice againſt me, were it not ſo, you would believe what I am a going to relate to you concerning this Ad⯑venture; but I am almoſt aſſured you will not give credit to what I ſay. You ought not to be Judge of my Thoughts, anſwer'd my Lady Angleſey, ſpeak only, and I ſhall ſoon gueſs whether you are ſincere or not. In the Condition I am now in, added ſhe, it will not be proper to give the whole Recital thereof imme⯑diately, but I will juſtify my ſelf, when we [192] come to your Apartment. So they got into the Coach, the young Counteſs being in ſuch a Confuſion, as if ſhe had bin actually Guilty; tho' every thing conſider'd, eſpecially her attempt⯑ing to drown her ſelf, there was but little cauſe of ſuſpecting her to have had a Hand in the Plot.

She was no ſooner got Home, but ſhe went to Bed, where ſhe felt her Mind diſtracted with a Thouſand Reflections concerning the Earl of Warwick, the attempt he had made appearing to her unpardonable, according to the Rules of Virtue and Good Manners: To carry away a marry'd Lady of her Quality and Conduct, appear'd to be ſo Preſumptuous an Action, as could not take riſe but from a Love without Bounds. She fancy'd ſhe ſaw him at her Feet, vowing an Eternal Reſpect to her; and to excuſe himſelf on account of his Love, to have bin wanting in it: Notwithſtanding which, ſhe remain'd much exaſperated againſt him. How! to carry me away by force, ſaid ſhe to the old Albine, what an Opinion muſt he have of me? And if he has, How can he Love me? But if he thinks well of me, Which way could he ſuppoſe I would remain as much as one Moment in his Power? Alas! continu'd ſhe, all what has happen'd will be laid at my Door, and at that very time I endeavour to forget the Earl of Warwick, and even deny my ſelf the Pleaſure of thinking of him, they will imagine, that I was willing to follow him to ſome ſolitary Place. How Happy had I bin, added ſhe, had I not bin ſav'd from the Danger I under-went this very Day! it would have ſav'd me a World of diſgrace during the whole Courſe of my Miſerable Life. Having ſpoken [193] theſe Words, ſhe cry'd moſt bitterly. Albine then taking the Liberty to interrupt her, 'Twould be unjuſt, ſaid ſhe, to charge you with a thing, you have no ſhare in; No, Ma⯑dam, don't diſturb your ſelf, your Innocence will confound your Enemies; and, if the Earl of Warwick be never ſo much irritated againſt you, he can't but admire and publiſh your Vertue. Lovers in their Anger give an but in⯑different Character of their Miſtreſſes; beſides, whatever he can ſay of me, will be look'd up⯑on as ſuſpicious: But Albine, What will the Earl of Devonſhire, What will my Mother think of it? I am ſure, they will judge me guilty: Oh! fatal Day to my Repoſe! Oh! curſed Attempt! What is it I have committed, to draw this Misfortune upon me?

Whilſt ſhe was in this Agony, the Counteſs of Angleſey came into the Room; the Confuſion ſhe obſerv'd in her at firſt meeting near the River-ſide, had made her reſolve to go to the utmoſt extremity with her Daughter; but upon further Conſiderations, thought it beſt to ſhut her ſelf up for ſome time in her Chamber, to reſtore to her Mind that Tranquillity ſhe thought abſolutely requiſite in an Affair of this Nature. The young Counteſs perceiving her to be pretty Calm, her fear was chang'd into a reaſonable Confidence, ſo kiſſing her Mother's Hand ſeve⯑ral times, ſhe gave her a ſincere Account of the whole Tranſaction; and notwithſtanding her Inclinations for the Earl of Warwick, did not forget to tell her, that he was the Author of it; believ'd it was ſufficient to ſpeak the Truth, to perſwade her Mother that ſhe did ſo; but the old Counteſs recalling to her Mind the Picture dropt out of the Earl's Pocket, with many other [194] Circumſtances, which made her then ſuſpect a Correſpondence betwixt them, now thought ſhe was fully convinc'd, that her Daughter had the Misfortune of being in Love, and to be be⯑lov'd. Her auſtere Temper could not ſuffer the fore⯑ſight of the Dangers ſhe ſuppos'd her Daughter would be expos'd to, ſo that inſtead of Condoling her, ſhe broke out into Reproaches: She told her, The Confeſſion ſhe had made her, ſeem'd to her an affect only of Conſtraint, ſince ſhe had told her nothing but what muſt be divulg'd a courſe; But that ſhe could very ea⯑ſily ſee through that affected Air of Simpli⯑city and Ingenuity: That ſhe might reſt aſſur'd ſhe would always ſide with my, Lord Devon⯑ſhire, to keep her under, ſeeing ſhe had bin ſo unfortunate as to ſuffer her ſelf to be led away by ſuch Sentiments as muſt make her Bluſh. The young Counteſs remain'd ſo highly afflicted at the Conſtruction her Mother upon put her ſin⯑cere Confeſſion, that ſhe was not able to ſpeak one Word more in her own behalf. Her Si⯑lence ſerving only to accompliſh her Mother's ſuſpicions againſt her, ſhe left her, convinc'd, as ſhe thought, that the Earl of Warwick had not made this Attempt without her Conſent. Af⯑ter all this, tho' the Counteſs of Angleſey judg'd her Daughter guilty of this Error, ſhe was too Wiſe a Woman not to take all poſſible Pre⯑cautions to conceal it from the Earl of Devon⯑ſhire; ſhe was willing to reduce her Daughter within Bounds, without being acceſſary to her Ruin.

In the mean while the Earl of Devonſhire had ſcarce ever bin at Twittenham, the Illneſs of the Chevalier, his Friendſhip for him, and his In⯑differency for his Wife, kept him conſtantly in [195] London: He attended conſtantly at Court, and had he not bin ſenſible, that the Counteſs was the moſt Lovely Perſon in the World, he might perhaps have look'd out for another Engage⯑ment; but there are certain Charms, the Cha⯑racters whereof are indelible. Thus he might perhaps never have heard of the Attempt made upon his Wife, had not the Earl of Pembrook, after his return to London, diſtracted with Spleen and Malice, reſolv'd to find out the Cure of his Paſſion, in his Continual Application of making his Fortune; For tho' the King had a peculiar regard to him, he might have bin much more in his Favour, had he taken the true Courſe for it: But his Love-Paſſion for the Counteſs, being to him inſtead of every thing, he took more Plea⯑ſure to employ his Thoughts upon her in his Cloſet, than to purſue his Advantage by attend⯑ing conſtantly at Court.

He now began to relent at the time he had loſt, and the deſire he had of being reveng'd of the Earl of Warwick, who ſtood betwixt him and the King's abſolute Favour, made him enter into a ſtrict Friendſhip with Edward Woodwill Earl of Rivers, a Perſon more remarkable for his high Deſerts, than for his being the Brother of the Fair Widow. For the reſt, his Fortune being not very conſide⯑rable, and the Earl of Pembrook, who was one of the Richeſt Lords in the Kingdom, making him a ſharer in his whole Fortune, this Act of Gene⯑roſity ſo far affected Madam Grey, that ſhe thought the Earl wanted nothing to make him Compleat in her Eyes, than to have an extream Averſion to the Earl of Warwick. The Earl alſo had given her to underſtand, that had he met with a leſs Rival in his Way, than the King, he ſhould have made his Addreſſes to her; and, as [196] ſhe was for nothing leſs than a Match, ſhe could have wiſh'd he had bin her Spouſe, he be⯑ing a Perſon well ſhap'd, magnificent and engag⯑ing in Converſation; ſo that every thing con⯑curr'd to ſettle a good Correſpondence betwixt them.

The Earl of Pembrook knew very well what ſub⯑ject of Complaint Madam Grey had againſt the Earl of Warwick, and endeavour'd to hate him as much as ſhe did, having perhaps as preſſing Reaſons for it as ſhe. Among other things he took delight to relate to her, as if it had bin a true Story, the Attempt that Earl had made for carrying Madam Devonſhire away without her Conſent; he would give her a Deſcription of the Boat, with ſome other Circumſtances that at⯑tended this Enterprize, as he pretended, viz. How by Miſchance ſhe fell into the River, which broke all their Meaſures. Madam Grey was ſur⯑priz'd, to underſtand that ſo unaccountable an Action, perform'd within Eight or Nine Miles of London, ſhould have made not the leaſt Noiſe, and that the Earl of Devonſhire, who was the Perſon moſt concern'd therein, ſhould be ſo lit⯑tle acquainted with it as to continue at Court; ſhe was no leſs ſurpriz'd at the Earl of Warwick; He had in all Appearance made all his Appli⯑cations to his new Miſtreſs, he had fix'd his Buſineſs and Pleaſures in the ſame Place, his whole Deportment and Air appear'd altogether compos'd. Is it poſſible, ſaid ſhe, a Man ſhould be ſo perfect a Maſter in the Art of Diſſimu⯑lation? Who could have ſuſpected him, whilſt he Feaſts all the Ladies at Court, and is ſcarce ever out of their Company, he ſhould contrive how to carry away one. In ſhort, it being agreed betwixt her and the Earl of Pembrook, to di⯑vulge [197] the thing, he gave her a full Account of all the Particulars relating to it. And who could better do it than himſelf? Nothing was omitted, as ſhe was a declar'd Enemy of the Earl of Warwick's: She told the King of it, who ſhew'd a greater Concern thereat, than ſhe de⯑ſired. Is it poſſible, ſaid he, that a Perſon of his Capacity and Extraction, ſhould thus far bid Farewel to Reaſon, as to ſeek thus his own Deſtruction for ever? If ſhe had once taken a Reſolution to allow her ſelf full Liberty, Why did not ſhe pitch upon my Heart, before that of ſo indiſcreet and inconſtant a Man? Theſe Words being not very pleaſing to the Fair Widow, ſhe Bluſh'd more than once; but thought it beſt to ſay nothing.

The King was ſo full of this News, that the firſt time he ſaw the Earl of Warwick he ſpoke to him of it; and the Earl being much ſurpriz'd, thereat, the King thought it had bin fain'd, to avoid to come to a ſincere Confeſſion, ſo that there wanted but little of his being in a great Paſſion; and as the Earl of Warwick could not deviſe how ſuch an Adventure, wherein he had not the leaſt ſhare, ſhould be laid to his Charge, he was ſo taken up with his Thoughts thereupon, that not obſerving the King was in Earneſt, he turn'd the whole Story into Ridicule, tho' at the ſame time he reſolv'd to find out the bottom of the Deſign. On the other Hand, Madam Grey's Hatred to the Counteſs of Devonſhire was ſuch, as not to ſuffer her to let ſlip ſo fair an Opportunity of revenging her Quarrel: She took effectual Care to make the Earl of Devon⯑ſhire acquainted with what had happen'd at Twit⯑tenham, and as he was very apt to believe his own Misfortune, he communicated it to the Chevalier [198] de Hereſord, who bore his full ſhare in his Afflictions, whilſt the Earl of Pembrook kept the Key of the whole Secret in his own Hands: 'Twas he that had the ſatisfaction of ſeeing ſo many Per⯑ſons concern'd in the Intereſt of my Lady De⯑vonſhire, reduc'd almoſt to Deſpair, and himſelf thus reveng'd for her Cruel Treatment. Tho' it is certain, he would ſcarce have carry'd the Mat⯑ter ſo far, had it not bin to oblige Madam Grey; for whom he began already to have a moſt ſingu⯑lar Eſteem.

The Earl of Warwick once more felt the true Symptoms of Jealouſy: He thought himſelf cur'd of his Paſſion, he amuſed himſelf with another not without ſome ſatisfaction; but now found himſelf more afflicted, and more unfortunate than ever. For ſuppoſing no otherwiſe, than that he had bin ſlighted by the Counteſs, becauſe ſhe was engag'd with another Lover, he had a Thouſand Chime⯑ra's in his Head upon that account, which con⯑tinually tormented him; What Projects of Ven⯑geance did he not contrive? Sometimes he was for adviſing the Earl of Devonſhire how to deal with his Wife; ſometimes for finding out his Rival, to Stab him before the Counteſs's Face; and at laſt concluded, that this Attempt had in it ſome⯑thing ſo bold and irregular, that he ought to reproach himſelf for retaining the leaſt Eſteem, in regard of a Perſon who could expoſe her ſelf to ſuch an Adventure. The Earl of Pembrook, ambitious to triumph over his Rival, went to give him a Viſit; and the Earl of Warwick impa⯑tient to ſee and tell him of the Attempt made upon the Counteſs of Devonſhire, and how it was laid at his door, ſcarce would give him time to ſhut the Door of the Cloſet. 'Tis true, ſaid the Earl of Pembrook, you are charg'd with it, and [199] truly it ſeems not very extraordinary, if ſuch a Paris as you, ſhould Raviſh ſuch a Hellena as ſhe is. If even I lov'd her ſtill, I ſhould be too much concern'd for her Reputation, to expoſe her thus; but as I don't Love her any more, it ſeems Extravagant to lay a thing to my Charge, an Action of ſo nice a Nature. What then can it be, added the Earl of Pembrook, that could raiſe this Suſpicion, of the thing being tranſact⯑ed by your Orders? 'Tis that what I am ignorant of, and what I will endeavour to find out, ſaid the Earl, and you muſt aſſiſt me in it, ſince I hope, that in confeſſing your ſelf a Friend to Madam Grey, to ſuch a Degree as you do, you may ne⯑vertheleſs continue in the ſame Tye of Friend⯑ſhip with me as before. The Earl of Pembrook told him, that he would ſooner renounce her than his Friendſhip; that he muſt own, that when he firſt heard the Relation of what had happen'd at Twittenham, he had believ'd it as all the reſt did; but that, ſince he deſir'd it, he would en⯑deavour to find it out: Thus they parted like the beſt Friends in the World.

MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK:
PART II.

IN the mean while the Chevalier de Here⯑ford being ſooner recovered of his Illneſs than of his Paſſion for the Counteſs of De⯑vonſhire and not able to reſiſt this Deſpair oc⯑caſion'd by the news of the Attempt made upon the ſaid Counteſs, thought of nothing more than how to ſatisfie his own Revenge under the pretence of eſpouſing the Earl of Devonſhire's Quarrel. Don't love any things cruel, Woman's Love nothing, would he ſay often by himſelf, the misfortune of my Rivals will he an allaying to my ſufferings; but don't fancy you are at liber⯑ty to make ſo unfair a Choice; for I will ne⯑ver ſuffer the E. of Warwick to enjoy alone the Felicity of pleaſing you. What projects did not he frame upon that account! Alas! unfortunate Counteſs, whoſe Vertue and Innocence were not ſufficient to protect her againſt the furious aſ⯑ſaults [2] of her Husband and her Adverſary: The more ſhe was beloved, the more ſhe was reputed gui [...]y, and the more they ſet their Engines at work againſt her. The Earl of Devonſhire and the Chevalier de Hereford going together to Twhittenham upon their Approach to that Seat, where the Counteſs was, were ſeized with ſo fu⯑rious a Reſentment, that to calm their ſpirits they thought it neceſſary to ſtop for ſome time in a little Wood: It being after Sun ſet, and pretty cool, they alighted and ſeated themſelves under the Trees, after a few minutes ſilence the Earl addreſſed himſelf thus to the Chevalier: I hope you will now no more oppoſe my juſt reſent⯑ment and vengeance, I hope I may now without injuſtice Cloiſter up for ever this unfaithful Wo⯑man, and treat her in ſuch a manner as the af⯑front ſhe has put upon me deſerves. I ſhould not be well pleaſed, my Lord, reply'd the Chevalier, to ſee you otherwiſe diſpoſed than now you are: There is no Den dark enough for your Wife; you muſt chain her like a little Lioneſs, and make her taſte the ſowre ſawce. I am afraid of her Mo⯑ther's tenderneſs for her, added the Earl, 'Tis not likely, ſhe will ſuffer her Houſe to be made a Priſon for her Daughter; My Lord Stanley will take his Siſter's part, and it will be but ill be⯑coming my quality to aim at ſuch a thing without being able to go thro' with it. What you ſay is very judiciouſly conſidered, reply'd the Chevalier, but you muſt bring them over to your ſide. What can they ſay againſt it when you tell them, that you are inform'd of her ill conduct, that this late attempt makes a great noiſe at Court, that you are ſcoff'd at by the Earl of Warwick, and that your Enemies triumph over your Misfortunes. 'Tis an eaſie matter to find excuſes to make up a breach in a Family, but believe me, ſince it has [3] once made ſo much noiſe we will not be over cau⯑tious, we will carry away in our turn, and we will be too nimble for her Friends. The Che⯑valier highly approved his Reſolution, and it was pretty late before they left off talking. The Counteſs of Devonſhire uſed almoſt every day to walk the ſame Wood there to condole her diſgrace, and to give vent to her Grief; Dark⯑neſs and Silence ſeeming to afford her ſome Comfort in her preſent Circumſtances. Tho' her Mother had reſtrained her within very nar⯑row bounds, ſhe had nevertheleſs allow'd her the liberty of withdrawing at ſome diſtance from thoſe that attended her; and to tarry by her ſelf as long as ſhe thought convenient. The ſame chance that had directed the Earl of De⯑vonſhire and his Kinſman very near to the place where ſhe was ſeated, would have it ſo that they ſhould not ſee her, and that ſhe at the ſame time ſhould hear every thing they diſcourſed to⯑gether, for tho' they talk'd not very loud, yet being ſeparated from them only by a number of thick Hedges, or Shrubs, or ſingle Trees, they might have eaſily ſeen her. It was ſcarce to be deter⯑mined, which was the greateſt, her deſpair or ſurprize, ſhe found her misfortunes to augment by a thouſand additional circumſtances one after another, ſhe now found to her coſt, that it was not enough to be innocent, to avoid being accu⯑ſed or perſecuted; ſhe was ſenſible ſhe ſhould furniſh matter ſufficient to the world to cenſure her Conduct, and ſhe was convinced above all, that her Husband was going to take violent re⯑ſolutions againſt her, and that the Chevalier de Hereford being exaſperated againſt her, took this opportunity of being revenged for the indif⯑ferency ſhe had ſhewn him, ſhe at laſt was for⯑ced to ſee that the Earl of Warwick who had [4] drawn upon her ſo many misfortunes, and who was acquainted better than any other Man in the Court, with what ſhe had been capable of do⯑ing rather than fall into his hands, remain'd an idle Spectator on the injuſtices offered to her.

Theſe various reflections crouding in upon her Spirits, ſhe was ſo confounded, that at laſt ſhe reſolved to abide the thunderbolt that was ſtri⯑king at her head, and to ſuffer her ſelf to be car⯑ry'd whither the Earl of Devonſhire ſhould think convenient: What matters it, ſaid ſhe, whether I die in a Tower or in a Den, whether I am made away by Dagger or Poyſon: Let me be carry'd where I will, let my Death or Deſtiny what it will, my comfort will be in a good conſcience, I ſhall be ſatisfy'd I have nothing to upbraid my ſelf with, and that I ſuffer undeſervedly theſe misfortunes that befall me: Is not all this ſuffi⯑cient to depart this life without regret. But ſoon after conſidering with her ſelf that her Reputa⯑tion lay at ſtake unleſs ſhe could juſtifie her ſelf, and that ſhe ought not to neglect any means to maintain her Innocence, ſhe took a firm reſolu⯑tion ſo to do, looking upon it as a thing altoge⯑ther worthy her care. ‘'No, ſaid ſhe, I can't reſolve to put Arms into my Enemy's hands; If I make them Maſters of my Deſtiny, I ſhall never be in a condition to efface thoſe ſuſpici⯑ons the world has conceived againſt me, is it not therefore much better to fly them, and to conceal my ſelf in ſome place or other. Does not Heaven who thought fit I ſhould over-hear the Diſcourſe betwixt my Husband and his Kinſman, ſeem to ordain me to make the beſt uſe of it? Every moment is now very precious to me, having loſt too many already; But which way ſhall I ſecure my ſelf? how ſhall I [5] get out of the Wood without being perceived; Good God, what am I a going to do to get out of one Labyrinth I intangle my ſelf in an⯑other.'’

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

At the ſame time ſhe heard ſome noiſe, and looking about her found them to be two Horſes without their Riders, and not doubting but that they belonged to the Earl of Devonſhire, and the Chevalier de Hereford, they proved actually the ſame, and being got looſe were going back towards London. She got upon one of them, as ſlipping the Bridle of the other, for fear of be⯑ing purſued, ſhe gallop'd away like lightning, to loſe no time, being in a deadly fear, and fright⯑ned at every thing ſhe ſaw, being a good Horſe⯑woman [6] made a ſhirt to get to London ſometime before day breaking, and alighting from her Horſe (which ſhe let looſe) went to one that had been her Nurſe, but was now a rich Citizen in London, one whom ſhe knew to be very faithful and abſolutely devoted to her ſervice. However for fear of being diſcovered, ſhe got her imme⯑diately to buy a Suit of Mens Clothes, which ſhe wore, and hid her long hair under a Cap, Perriwigs being not in uſe in thoſe days. She ap⯑pear'd ſo very handſome and well ſhaped that every body that ſaw her was ſtruck with admi⯑ration; for ſhe carry'd much of Majeſty in her whole Body, in her Deportment appear'd a cer⯑tain mixture of Haughtineſs and ſweetneſs; and in her Eyes an uncommon luſtre and vivacity of Spirit; and this Diſguiſe ſeem'd to be ſo natural in her that all the World might have been de⯑ceived in it Notwithſtanding all this, fearing leaſt this might not prove a ſufficient ſecurity againſt the vigilance of the Earl of Devonſhire, ſhe told her Nurſe what apprehenſions ſhe lay under, and the whole cauſe thereof; hereupon it was a⯑greed betwixt them, ſhe ſhould write to one Ma⯑dam Digby her friend, who lived in the Coun⯑try, to let her know ſhe intended to ſend her Son to her Houſe, becauſe he had been engaged in a Quarrel, deſiring ſhe would give him a kind reception till the matter could be made up. She having never ſeen this Son, it was an eaſie mat⯑ter to impoſe another upon her in his ſtead, ſo my Lady Devonſhire left London for fear of be⯑ing ſeen by ſome Perſons, from whom ſhe would carefully hide her ſelf; for that end ſhe took no body along with her, except an old truſty Ser⯑vant of her Nurſe's, who having brought her to Madam Digby's Houſe, and ſo returned to Lon⯑don; [7] but before we ſpeak of her reception we muſt return to Thwittenham.

My Lady Devonſhire being accuſtomed to paſs many hours together near a Brook, which run croſs the Wood, 'twas very late before her family began to wonder at her ſtay, ſo that no⯑thing but the fear they conceived of her being ſeized with a ſudden illneſs made them go in ſearch after her; they were not a little ſurpri⯑zed when they met there with the Earl of De⯑vonſhire and his Kinſman, who ask'd them whe⯑ther they had not ſeen their Horſes, and com⯑manded them to look after them, whilſt ſome obeyed their orders, the reſt run through all the places of the Wood, whether the Counteſs uſed to retire moſt frequently, but in vain, ſhe was gone, as I told you juſt now; and the Horſe whom ſhe had left behind, finding himſelf with⯑out a Bridle was run away. The Earl of De⯑vonſhire knew nothing of his Wife's having bin that Evening in the Wood, ſo that when he was told that ſhe was not to be found, and that no body knew what was become of the Horſes, he was ſurprized to the higheſt degree, and it came immediately into his head, that the thing was not an effect of Chance, but of her own choice, and that ſhe was more concern'd in it than any body elſe. He diſcovered his Sentiments to the Chevalier, who was not of his opinion, but ſaid, She might perhaps be gone back alone to the Houſe, that their beſt way was to go thither, ſince if they had a mind to purſue her, they had no Horſes, ſo that he judged they could do no better than to go thither to be better inform'd concerning the whole matter.

This being the firſt time the Earl of Devon⯑ſhire and the Chevalier came to Thwittenham after what had happened upon the River, every thing [8] look'd but with an indifferent aſpect there, my Lady Angleſey dreading her Husband's Anger in behalf of her Daughter, ſent her one of her Women to adviſe her not to ſtir out of her Chamber till ſhe had ſounded the Diſpoſition of the Earl. But the Perſon ſhe had ſent ſoon re⯑turn'd, and whiſpered her in the Ear, that ſhe was not there, nor to be found any where, ha⯑ving bin in the ſame Wood at the ſame time the Earl was there.

This News proved the cauſe of freſh inquie⯑tudes, and dreading all the ſiniſter Events for her Daughter ſhe could think of, ſhe changed colour ſeveral times, and what pains ſhe took to conceal the diſturbance of her mind, ſerved only to diſcover it. The Earl of Devonſhire and the Chevalier de Hereford went not without their ſhare in theſe troubles. The laſt ask'd how the Counteſs did, and whether ſhe might be ſeen without incommoding her? At theſe words, my Lady Angleſey no longer able to keep ſilence: ‘'Oh! my Lord, ſaid ſhe to her Son in law, you know better than any body elſe what is become of your Wife, I am not ignorant that you met with her, becauſe ſhe comes not again, what dreadful things have you told her; you ſee ſhe is not come back you don't do juſtice either to her Vertue or Merits.'’ The Earl turning coldly towards her, told her only in a few words, ‘'That had he met with the Counteſs they ſhould have come home together; that he was very uneaſie at her abſence, and that he beg'd of her to let her be looked after, and that he might go away with the reſt.'’ So leaving the Room he gave orders to haſten to the Wood with lighted Flambeaux. This happened very well for the Counteſs of Devonſhire, who whilſt they ſpent their time in ſearching for her in the [9] Wood, had leiſure given her to ſecure her ſelf. After a long ſearch, at laſt word was brought to the Earl of Devonſhire, that certain freſh prints of a Horſe's Hoof being traced in the more un⯑frequented parts of the Wood, it was likely the Counteſs had taken that way in her flight. The Earl and the Chevalier approving their opinions, reſolved to follow her themſelves, being unwill⯑ing to entruſt any other.

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

Tho' you might have read grief in his Face, the Earl was ſo intent upon what he ſaid, that he little minded it. All Circumſtances ſeem to concur to perſwade me, what you ſay, to be true, reply'd he, but there are certain things that muſt not be divulged without an abſolute ‘'certainty, this is one of that kind; If I ſhould tell them my Wife loſt her Life in ſuch a [10] manner as you tell me, I know not but that the World may have malice enough to ſuſpect me to be the Author of it. And if your Con⯑jectures ſhould prove falſe, if ſhe is alive and appears again, I ſhall be ridiculed beyond what a man is able to bear; 'Tis therefore my ad⯑vice that after we have try'd all means to find her out, to retire to a certain old Seat I have in the midſt of a Wood 'till we hear further how matters go.'’

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

This done the Earl and the Chevalier remoun⯑ted their Horſes, and as they were going along ſpoke not ſo much as one word to one another; their hearts being ſo full that they did not know where to begin; The Earl feared (if you will believe him) that his Wife had kill'd her ſelf; and the Chevalier dreaded it unto ſuch a degree, he had all the reaſon in the world to be convin⯑ced that he was not cured of his Paſſion, as he had flattered himſelf he was. Jealouſy and Hatred had poſſeſſed the Earls mind, Love and Fear were the predominant Paſſions in that of the Chevalier: ‘'Is it poſſible, ſaid he, you ſhould loſe the moſt amiable perſon in the world, that you ſhould know ſhe is dead, and ſhould carry it off with ſo much Tranquility? Who told you, reply'd the Earl, that I have loſt her, and that I enjoy ſo much Tranquillity? I am the main Perſon in this Scene, the part I am to act in it is ſo melancholy that it is not to be done indiffer⯑ently: [11] This is one of thoſe kind of Afflictions which ought to be cloſed up within the inmoſt receſſes of our Heart, without expoſing them to publick view.'’ ‘'You might give me a ſhare in your Misfortunes, ſaid the Chevalier, our Friendſhip is ſuch as not to allow of ſuch a Reſerve, and I can't but be offended thereat. I know not what your Opinion is, reply'd the Earl coldly; but this I know, that you are diſpoſed to accuſe me unjuſtly.'’ He little dream't that the Chevalier cou'd have given him ſufficient Reaſons, why he was more nearly con⯑cern'd in the Matter than himſelf; but this had more conſideration than to make him his Confi⯑dant in this Caſe; his buſineſs being at this time to conceal from him, the true Condition of his Heart.

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

Whilſt they ſpent their time in this diſmal Place, the Earl of Angleſey and his Lady were ready to run Diſtracted at Twittenham, at the uncertainty they lay under of what was become of their Daughter; and the more they loved her, the more ingenious were they to torment them⯑ſelves. The Earl of Devonſhire, whoſe Return they expected, not without good Reaſon, had taken another way with his Friend, whence they conjectured that his Conſcience accuſed him of ſome ill action done by him to his Wife, and that therefore he would not abide the ſight of them. They cauſed ſearch to be made for her in [12] all Corners; and my Lady Angleſey finding her⯑ſelf every where uneaſie, left the Country and went to London; but cou'd not leave her anxious Thoughts behind her.

'Twas next to an impoſſibility, that an Acci⯑dent wherein ſo many Perſons of the firſt Quality were concern'd, ſhou'd not be known at Court. The King was ſoon acquainted that the Counteſs cou'd not be found, and that her Husband lay under a ſuſpicion of having play'd her ſome ill Game: He compaſſionated heartily the Misfor⯑tune of ſo lovely a Perſon, and the Earl of War⯑wick happening to come into his Cloſet at that very moment, whilſt he was reflecting upon this odd Accident, he told him: My Lord, What have you not to anſwer for, on account of my La⯑dy Devonſhire? 'tis believ'd ſhe is Dead, and that your extravagant Attempt to carry her away, has been the occaſion of it. The Earl was ſo ſurpriz'd thereat, as not to be able to give an Anſwer, for ſome time; all the Merits and Charms of the Counteſs appear'd again ſo freſh in their utmoſt luſtre to his Mind; that the ſame Fires, which was thought to have extinguiſh'd, was rekind⯑led at once. Don't imagine Sir, ſaid he, that the Change you obſerve in my Face, or the Confuſion you ſee me in, is owing to any thing I have to re⯑proach myſelf on account of what your Majeſty told me; I never in my Life made the leaſt attempt of carrying away the Counteſs; nay, I reſented to the very Heart, the weakneſs I found ſhe was guilty of upon this Occaſion for another Perſon but myſelf; and I actually flattered myſelf, that this conſideration cured me of my Paſſion for her; but, Sir, I am ſenſible of all the effects of her Charms by that direful Fear I am in, never to ſee her a⯑gain; 'tis this that puts me into the moſt deplora⯑ble Condition in the World. His Eyes then were [13] covered with Tears, which the King obſerving, told him, Warwick you cry! No Sir, reply'd the Earl, I am not guilty of ſo much weakneſs. Oh, cry on! cry on! ſaid he, 'tis no Crime in a Lover that is cheriſh'd by his Miſtreſs, to bewail her. I never had any occaſion to conſider her upon that Point, continued the Earl, for ſhe always ſlighted, or at leaſt ſhew'd an indifferency for me, which made me engage in another Amour, and thought I had almoſt razed her out of my Heart; but I muſt confeſs to your Majeſty, that the uncertain⯑ty of her Deſtiny puts me into ſuch a degree of Deſpair, I am not able to overcome. Be it as it will, anſwer'd the King, whether you did intend to carry her away or whether you have been other⯑wiſe the cauſe of her Ruin, I am concern'd for you; and the beſt thing you can do, is to wean yourſelf of your Paſſion? The Earl anſwered on⯑ly with a deep Reverence, I knowing it to be a thing he ſhou'd find very difficult to encompaſs; and his Heart being quite overcome with Grief, took his leave as ſoon as poſſibly he cou'd.

As he was paſſing thro' the Privy Garden, next adjacent to the Court, he meets the Earl of Pembrock in a ſhady dark Walk; and hoping to find ſome Conſolation in diſcourſing his Friend upon this Subject matter; he accoſted him with ſo melancholy an Air; that the other immedi⯑ately perceived he had ſomething of ill News to bring, that very near concern'd him. Alas! My Lord, ſaid the Earl of Warwick, I ſhall ſee her no more. Whom do you ſpeak of, reply'd the Earl of Pem⯑brock interrupting him? I can ſpeak of no body but of her, continu'd the Earl of Warwick, could there have been any Misfortune like that of loſing her? The Earl of Pembrock not apprehending what Perſon he meant, to make him unfold the riddle told him, I underſtand you, your young Miſtreſs [14] is a going to leave the Court in order to be mar⯑ry'd, and you are afflicted at this Separation. Would it pleaſe Heaven! cry'd my Lord, I had no other occaſion of Grief, you ſhou'd ſee me bear that with a great deal of courage; but the Caſe is quite different, in reſpect of the Counteſs of Devonſhire, 'tis ſhe! 'tis ſhe! whoſe Deſtiny I la⯑ment; her Husband having carry'd her away from her Father's Houſe, no body knows whether; it be⯑ing the general opinion, that he has made her a ſacrifice to his Jealouſie; and what is more, I muſt bear the Blame, as if I had been the occaſion of it; but 'tis not the publick Rumour, but the loſs of her Perſon in particular that affects me. Don't you recal to Mind, my Lord, continued he, that Majeſtick Air, that noble and engaging De⯑portment, thoſe Charms which made her to be ad⯑mired and reſpected by all the World; with all theſe Perfections, in the midſt of her Native Coun⯑try nay, of her own Family, there is no body ap⯑pears in behalf of this poor Lady: This Bugbear (like me) of a Husband, keeps all her Friends in awe, and his Cruelties gain a dreadful Reſpect a⯑mong them. Well, I will be then the Man, who by myſelf will venture at her Protection; but I will do it to ſuch a purpoſe, that the Earl of Devonſhire and all his adherents ſhall have oc⯑caſion to remember me. He had ſcarce ſaid theſe Words, but quite tranſported with Choler, and not remembring that he intended to conſult with the Earl of Pembroke upon the Matter, he did fly away like Lightning. The Earl of Pembroke was not diſſatisfy'd thereat, ſince it ſaved him the trouble of counterfeiting and reſtraining his true Thoughts before him.

As ſoon as the Earl of Warwick was got out of fight, he lay down under a Tree to indulge his melancholy Thoughts. 'Tis true, he had [15] ſufficient cauſe of Affliction, ſince it was his too violent, and indiſcreet Paſſion that had proved the Cauſe of the loſs of the Repoſe, if not the Life of the Counteſs. He fetch'd very deep ſighs, and ſhutting his Eyes, remain'd immove⯑able like one ſtruck with Death. His new Friend⯑ſhip with Madam Gray, received ſuch a check by the remembrance of the high Deſerts of the Counteſs of Devonſhire, by the high eſteem he had of her Perſon, and by that Compaſſion he felt within himſelf, for her Misfortunes, that he wiſh'd a thouſand times that the Period of his Life was at hand, to juſtifie by a ſolemn and ſincere declaration, the Innocence of the op⯑preſt Lady: Yes (ſaid he) I will publiſh to the World the Extravagancies I have comitted, I will expoſe myſelf to the fury of her Husband, to the King's Indignation, to the Violence of his Miſtreſs and the Revenge of the Earl of Warwick: I wou'd be hated by all the World, loſe all my Friends and Fortune, and after all this, I own myſelf not ſuf⯑ficently puniſh'd.

He was tormenting himſelf in this manner, heaping Reproaches upon Reproaches, when he found himſelf interrupted by Madam Gray. The King had told her with what trouble the Earl of Warwick had receiv'd the News of the loſs of my Lady Devonſhire, which ſhe embraced with an exceſs of Joy, that ſhe was ſcarce able to con⯑tain her ſelf. She took a ſolitary Walk, the bet⯑ter to enjoy the pleaſure of ſeeing herſelf reveng⯑ed; and ſhe fancied ſhe ſaw her mortal Enemy in this miſerable Condition before her Eyes, when eſpying the Earl of Pembroke the Inſtru⯑ment of her Vengeance againſt the Earl of War⯑wick; ſhe made up towards him with a gay Countenance; We are at laſt Victorious, my Lord, cry'd ſhe, You will ſay the Earl of Warwick is [16] likely to pay very dear for the Evils he intended againſt me, when I tell you with what trouble and vexation of Mind, he received the News of the Counteſs of Devonſhire's Abſence, from the King and that it was ſuppos'd, her Husband had offer'd ſome violence to her; you may judge of my Satis⯑faction.

The Earl of Pembrock opening his Eyes, and hearing her Diſcourſe with the utmoſt impati⯑ence; May I preſume to tell you, Madam, reply'd he, you are too full of Revenge; alas! what Crime has ſhe committed againſt me? How? return'd ſhe, is it not a Crime to have been belov'd by the King? And is it not another to love the Earl of War⯑wick? This perfidious Man, who ow'd me ſo many Obligations, not only in regard of his con⯑ſtant Profeſſion of Kindneſs to the Houſe of Lunenburgh, from which my Mother is deſcended, but alſo of the many good Offices I have endeavour⯑ed to do him, has contrived my Ruin. You know too well what ridiculous Stories he has told of me to the King; theſe are unpardonable Things, and I profeſs to you, that all he ſuffers, and whatever may happen to the Counteſs, is too little to ſatisfie my Revenge. Well, cry'd the Earl of Pembrock, if you want another Victim to allay your Anger, make uſe of me, Madam; I deſire Death at your Hands, as the only good that can befal me; don't think me leſs guilty than the Earl of Warwick, I love the Counteſs of Devonſhire, better than the Earl of Warwick, and yet have condeſcended to be the Inſtrument of your Hatred, both againſt her and my Rival, what horrour don't I feel with⯑in my Breaſt; for having been guilty of ſuch a Crime, which I committed without the leaſt Re⯑luctancy; my Reſentment cauſed by her indiffe⯑rency towards me, Jealouſie which tormented me, and in ſhort, the power of her Charms are the [17] cauſe of my preſent Misfortune. If my Grief does not rob me ſuddenly of my Life, I intend to make known all over the World, how the whole Matter was concerted.

Madam Gray hearkned to the Earl of Pem⯑brook's Diſcourſe with ſo much ſurprize, that ſhe cou'd ſcarce imagine what ſhe heard to be real; ſhe was a conſiderable time before ſhe cou'd ſpeak a Word; but at laſt broke out into moſt vio⯑lent Reproaches and Threats. He heard her patiently, without being in the leaſt moved thereat, without making the leaſt Excuſe, or telling her any thing to induce her to forget what he had ſaid. Quite overcome with Spite and Rage, ſhe was a going to leave him, but conſidering with herſelf, that if he ſhou'd diſ⯑cloſe the Matter to the Earl of Warwick, ſhe might be brought in for her ſhare, in raiſing the Report about the Attempt made upon the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire; and tho' ſhe judg'd herſelf ſo well fix'd in the King's Affection, that it wou'd prove a hard task for any body to make him conceive the leaſt Prejudice againſt her; yet knowing what an Influence the Earl of Warwick had upon his Majeſty, ſhe thought it the ſafeſt way not to put it to a hazard: So aſſuming a more gentle Air, ſhe deſir'd the Earl of Pembrook to conceal the Matter at leaſt for ſome Days longer. You run no hazard in ſo doing (ſaid ſhe) and I ſhall be obliged to you; you will have time enough to ſpeak in behalf of your ſo much admired Coun⯑teſs. He ſoon found ſhe was touch [...]d to the quick, ſince notwithſtanding her reſentment and haughtineſs, ſhe could condeſcend ſo far as to make a Requeſt to him. He to [...]d her, that in the Condition he now was in, he was ſo far from be⯑ing capable of concealing it, that he would rather chuſe to withdraw into the Country, than make [18] her a Promiſe he might be apt to break; and that if ſhe wou'd get but the King's leave, he wou'd go to retire from all the World, at one of his Country Seats.

Madam Gray well ſatisfy'd with this Expedi⯑ent, engaged to ſpeak to the King about it; which ſhe did accordingly, but found him not much diſ⯑poſed to grant it. You ſee, ſaid he, unto what a melancholy ſtate the Earl of Warwick is redu⯑ced; the Report of my Lady Devonſhire's Death having almoſt bereaved him of his Senſes, he is not in a Condition to attend me often, and I hoped that the Earl of Pembrook wou'd ſupply his Place till his Recovery. Madam Gray told him ſhe had perceived the Earl of Pembrook to be out of order for ſeveral Days laſt paſt; that the change of the Air would much contribute to the Recovery of his Health, and conſequently to his ſudden return to Court: In ſhort, ſhe being reſolv'd it ſhou'd be ſo, the King at laſt granted her Deſire. The young Widow was very diligent in diſpatching the Earl for the Country; and told him at part⯑ing, ſhe wou'd not have him come back, till his Head was quite clear of his Chimeras, and that ſhe in the mean time wou'd take care of his For⯑tune. Act in that as you pleaſe Madam, ſaid he coldly, I am ſo far from any ambitious Deſigns, that I deſire nothing but Death, and I ſhou'd think myſelf much more obliged to you if you wou'd haſten it, than let me linger away in the moſt unhappy Life upon Earth. Am I the occaſion of it? re⯑ply'd ſhe, with ſome Impatience; but I will par⯑don you in ſpite of yourſelf; I look upon you as one that having loſt his Senſes, is not Maſter of his own Affections: go fetch them where you left them, and return in ſuch a Condition as may en⯑gage me to pardon what is paſt. The Earl of Pem⯑brook took his leave without anſwering one [19] word, not being able to forgive her what ſhe had made him do againſt the poor Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire.

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

Theſe Reflexions cauſed no ſmall Symptoms of Pain and Grief in her, being ſurprized to feel within herſelf ſuch tender Inclinations for the Earl; and ſhe wou'd have reproach'd herſelf up⯑on that Head, had not the conſideration of ma⯑king her Fortunes over ballanc'd the reſt, for the Widow of a private Gentleman, to be married to a Perſon of [...] high a Rank in the King⯑dom.

Diſturbed with theſe Reflexions, ſhe ſends for her Brother, the Earl Rivers, one of the moſt accompliſh'd Lords at Court, and in great favour with the King: As he began to be conſidered al⯑ready, as one of the King's growing Favourites, who had beſtow'd great Favours upon him, this occaſioned ſuch a jealouſie in the Earl of Warwick, that they were upon the point once of deciding their Quarrel by a Duel, had they not been preven⯑ted by the King's Authority; who, to ſtop their Rage, had preſcribed them certain Rules, which neither of them was to Tranſgreſs, on pain of his Diſpleaſure; notwithſtanding which, there [20] remain'd a certain Grudge betwixt them; which being carefully maintain'd by Madam Gray, they were become irreconcilable Enemies: 'Twas upon this conſideration, ſhe judged, ſhe could not put the Earl of Pembrook into ſurer hands than his, to make him avoid all manner of Cor⯑reſpondence with the Earl of Warwick.

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

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

Accordingly he went to him, when he was juſt upon his Departure: They being very inti⯑mate Friends, and the Earl Rivers pretending he knew nothing of his intended Journey, told him he came to take his leave of him, becauſe he [21] intended to go the next day to Grafton Houſe. Are you engaged, reply'd the Earl of Pembroke, in ſome Horſe-match or other, to be run there? No, ſaid he, I go only to reſt my ſelf of the fa⯑tigues of the Court: If you have ſo much friend⯑ſhip as to go along with me thither, I will think my ſelf obliged to you as long as I live. I am a going, reply'd the Earl, with a melancholy Air, a great way further off, I have ſome preſſing reaſons which make me fly that which would prove a great diſſatisfaction to me. The Earl Rivers appearing as if he were ſurprized at his Reſolution, urged the matter ſo ſucceſsfully to him, that he agreed to go along with him; ſo they went out of London the next day.

They needed not have taken ſo much precau⯑tion, there being but little probability of the Earl of Pembroke's meeting with the Earl of Warwick, for each of them had Cloſtred them⯑ſelves up to lament the Death, or at leaſt the loſs of the Counteſs of Devonſhire. She, as I told you before, was gone to Madam Digby's, where ſhe was entertain'd with all imaginable Civility. 'Tis true, under the Diſguiſe ſhe had taken, ſhe paſs'd there but for a perſon of an in⯑different condition; but notwithſtanding this, her Air and Deportment gain'd her much reſpect from all that beheld her. She had aſſumed the name of Jamy, the better to conceal her Sex, and Madam Digby had two Sons, and a very handſome Niece, a Woman of a great deal of ſenſe, ſweet in Converſation, very ſerious, and ſomething ad⯑dicted to Melancholy. Her name was Leonore, and Madam Digby being reſolved to make a match betwixt her and her Eldeſt Son, who was a ſhort, ill favour'd and ill-temper'd Piece, uſed to keep Leonore from all Converſation, for fear leſt Leonore, in caſe ſhe ſhould ſee others [22] more amiable than her Son, ſhe might take an averſion both to his Perſon and the intended Match. Leonore thus ſpent the beſt of her days within the walls of her Aunts Houſe, when my Lady Devonſhire came thither, who in this Diſ⯑guiſe appear'd ſo Graceful as if it had bin natu⯑ral to her, ſo that Leonore from the firſt mo⯑ment ſhe ſaw her was captivated to ſuch a de⯑gree, that her eyes, who were not acquainted with any thing elſe but the ſight of her ugly Couſins, were now continually employ'd upon Jamy; and ſhe being a Woman of great Vivacity of Wit, her Converſation with Jamy was ſo plea⯑ſant, as by degrees inſpired her with that tender⯑neſs ſhe did neither foreſee, nor was able to over⯑come.

For, beſides that they were both of the ſame Sex, the Counteſs of Devonſhire had ſuch weigh⯑ty reaſons to have an abhorrence for Love, that even the moſt pleaſing Diverſions, that had the leaſt relation to that Paſſion, could not be ac⯑ceptable to her. She was quite overwhelm'd with her misfortunes, under the greateſt uncer⯑tainty how to manage her ſelf for the future, exaſperated againſt the Earl of Warwick, irre⯑concilable to her Spouſe and the Chevalier de Hereford, very uneaſie on account of the ſuſpi⯑cions her Family might conceive againſt her, and the Reports that were likely to be ſpread abroad upon her account: All theſe were matters of ſuch conſequence, as to employ all her thoughts, which would make her ſpend ſome times a whole night in one of the moſt ſolitary places of the Park belonging to the Houſe. The only thing ſhe took ſome delight in to divert her Me⯑lancholy, was to be inſtructed in the Exerciſe of Arms, wherein ſhe improved ſo well, that ſhe would match the beſt Man in ſhooting, and [23] Madam Digby keeping a Fencing Maſter in the Houſe to teach her two Sons, Jamy by his In⯑ſtructions in a little time became as formidable for his Arm as for his Eyes.

Leonore was ſurprized at the progreſs Jamy had made in this ſort of Exerciſe, and whereas be⯑fore ſhe was never known to have taken any no⯑tice of her Couſin, when he was at this Exer⯑ciſe (becauſe he made ſo miſerable a figure) now ſince the arrival of Jamy, ſhe took ſo much de⯑light in being there, that young Digby could not but take ſome notice of it. 'Tis true he did not know unto what to attribute this Alteration, but after having ſeriouſly reflected upon the mat⯑ter, apply'd the reaſon thereof to his own ad⯑vantage: Fluſh'd with theſe hopes, he deſires Jamy to compoſe a Song or two in praiſe of his fair Couſin, but James excuſing himſelf with ſome careleſneſs, Digby was ſo vex'd there⯑at, that he got Jamy by the Throat. Leonore hearing the noiſe, came in to ſee what was the matter, and without heſitating upon the point, pulls her Couſin by the Hair, till he was glad to let Jamy alone. Ingrateful Woman, cry'd the little Couſin, did you know the occaſion of our Quarrel, you would be as much vex'd at it as I am; I deſir'd him to compoſe me ſome Verſes I intended to preſent you with, but he told me with a ſcornful look he could not make Verſes at command, unleſs it were for himſelf. Leonore caſting a ſcornful look upon her Counſin, went a⯑way without ſaying one word, to the Park, in that ſolitary place to bewail her misfortune.

Certain it is, that ſince the arrival of Jamy, ſhe had had but little Repoſe. At the firſt be⯑ginning ſhe imbraced this growing tenderneſs on⯑ly as a means to counterpoiſe her averſion to that Monſter, they had deſign'd her for a Husband; [24] but it was not long before ſhe was convinced to her coſt, that Love is no leſs pernicious than hatred; ſhe then began to open her eyes, and duly reflecting upon her preſent Circum⯑ſtances, found Love ſo dreadful a Gueſt, as made her ſigh and condole her ſelf without inter⯑miſſion.

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

She thought it was out of Reſpect; but be⯑ing no more Miſtreſs of her own heart, ſhe call'd and made a ſign to him, to draw nearer. 'Tis but reaſonable, ſaid ſhe ſmilingly, I ſhould chide you, for having refuſed to oblige my Couſin with a few Verſes intended for me. I ſhould have made but a very ill piece of work of it, reply'd he, my thoughts are too much taken up, to be employ'd in a [25] thing of this nature. Say rather, added ſhe, you are ſo deeply engaged in a ſecret paſſion, as not to permit you to think of any other Object but what you love. He did not return an Anſwer im⯑mediately, and the impatient Leonore continued her Diſcourſe; Your ſilence, ſaid ſhe, is eaſie to be underſtood: Oh! Jamy you are in Love, I ſup⯑poſe it is with the ſame perſon for which you fought a Duel in London, 'tis ſhe that has given us the opportunity of ſeeing you here; what a Fatality is this! Jamy having recovered him⯑ſelf, told her, Were you acquainted with the rea⯑ſons I have of complaining of my misfortunes, you would not believe me to be capable of a Paſſion to which I was always a ſtranger. The very name of Love is terrible to me. How is it poſſible, reply'd ſhe, you ſhould hate to ſo exceſſive a degree, what you don't know? 'tis certain you have bin in Love, but are diſſatisfied: But ſuppoſing you have proved unfortunate at one time, that ought not to check you for ever. I have ſomething of skill in Phyſiognomy and Aſtronomy; I foreſee every thing will prove ſucceſsful to you; Love, and you ſhall be beloved.

Jamy much ſurprized at what he heard; Fair Leonore, ſaid he, I am not capable of following your counſel; I muſt employ all my thoughts upon my preſent condition, which is deplorable, and my temper is ſuch, that I can't ſubmit to it; I muſt either die, or ſee my Deſtiny changed. I find, ſaid ſhe, you ſtill reſent the ill Treatment you re⯑ceived of my Couſin, but you muſt excuſe him, conſidering he has ſufficient reaſon to be jealous of you. Of me, reply'd Jamy! alas! for what reaſon? He has obſerved, continued ſhe, not without ſome confuſion, that I always look at you with pleaſure, that I can't forbear to ſpeak in your praiſe, and he perceives perhaps, that my [26] thoughts in reſpect to you, even exceed my words.

Alas, Jamy! and have not you perceived that as well as he? I underſtand a Jeſt, anſwered he, you intend to make your ſelf merry at my coſt; but provided it be the leaſt ſatisfaction to you, I am very willing to take it; however don't think my complaiſance is unlimited, for it is no leſs true, that were it poſſible to ſuppoſe you could ſtoop ſo low as to intend to marry me, my preſent condition is ſuch that I ſhould not enjoy the fruits of your Goodneſs. How, cry'd Leonore with much impatience, and would you not marry me? Would you refuſe to marry your Fortune? I ſhould but ill repay to Madam Digby, the Civilities I re⯑ceive in her Houſe, reply [...]d hee But you wou'd he at leaſt revenged of her Sex, ſaid ſhe: But that way is not ſuitable to my preſent Station, conti⯑nued he, I am reſolved firſt to reſettle my mind, before I entertain any thoughts of Marriage. But I will make you for ever, ſaid ſhe, I have a great Fortune at my Command, and am willing to ſhare it with you: Your Relations will be very angry at it, reply'd he; I won't ſee the face of any of them, return'd ſhe; We will go and live in the moſt De⯑light ſome Place of all Europe; we will ſet up a kind of a Hermitage in ſome delicious Valley, where the cleareſt Springs ſlide gently along a⯑mong the Trees; we will have Books, we will have Muſical Inſtruments, good Gardens, few Domeſticks, and plain but clean and near Furni⯑ture; thus remote from the noiſe of the World, our beſt days will paſs away like a Dream. All what you tell me is no more than ſuch, anſwered Jamy, with a ſmile; and I little thought that ſo amiable a young Lady as you had the Gift of buil⯑ding Caſtles in the air. Oh! ceaſe cruel man, re⯑turn'd ſhe, to turn into ridicule a tender Paſſion, [27] you ought to embrace with reſpect; you are too ſen⯑ſible of the Sentiments and Frailties of my tender Heart; tho' I have this to ſay for myſelf, that I have omitted nothing that might conduce to check my Paſſion; that all this has ſerved only to encreaſe my Sufferings; and your Idea, which is never ab⯑ſent from my Mind, has always got the upper hand over my moſt firm, and moſt ſerious Reſolutions. I am not ſenſible of what I have done, ſaid he, whatever it was, it was againſt my Will: I muſt tell you once more, Leonora, you and I were not made for one another.

This poor young Lady quite overwhelm'd with Grief and Shame, fell upon the Ground with⯑out Senſe or Motion; which as it cauſed no leſs the trouble than pity of Jamy, he did all he cou'd to bring her to herſelf again. Alas! ſaid he, What unfortunate Planet was I born under? ſee love will not ceaſe to perſecute me! I hoped to have ſheltered myſelf againſt its Force in this Solitude; and Fate will have it ſo, that this charming young Lady ſhou'd have too tender Senti⯑ments for me, and that I ſhou'd innocently be ac⯑ceſſary to her Misfortuues.

The Water which Jamy threw into Leonore's Face, being taken out of a very cool Spring, ſhe ſoon recover'd her Senſes; Her Eyes, which were ſcarce half open, diſcovered the tenderneſs and Languiſhment of her Heart; ſhe had leant her Head upon Jamy's Knees; they were both very penſive, and mutually bemoaning their Fate, when alarm'd by the ſound of the Hunting-horns and noiſe of the Dogs, they ſaw a Stag purſu'd by the Hunters thro' an opening of the Park, running directly to them, where he was ſoon af⯑ter run down by the Dogs. The Hounds belong⯑ed to the Earl Rivers, who had a Seat not a⯑bove [28] a few Miles from Madam Digby's; but they kept no correſpondence together, there be⯑ing a great difference betwixt their Ages, and way of living.

The Earl was not a little ſurprized to ſee ſo fair a Lady as Leonore was, in this retired place alone, with one of the hand ſomeſt and beſt ſhap'd Men in the World, and leaning her head upon him. Leonore got up as faſt as ſhe could; but the Earl Rivers, who obſerved every Motion of hers, follow'd and accoſted her, with an Air which diſcover'd a certain mixture of Fear and Confidence. I have given you ſome diſturbance Madam, ſaid he to her, and that perhaps at the very nick of time, when you were going to take a Sleep; pray bear me no ill will upon that account, for you are reveng'd already; and if I have robb'd you of your Reſt for a few moments, I fear I have loſt mine for ever. Leonore knew the Earl no more than he did her, but judged him to be a Perſon of Quality, and upon that ſcore wou'd have re⯑ceiv'd his Addreſſes without much Reluctancy, had not Jamy got already the ſole Aſcendant over her Heart: So looking upon him, ſaid coldly, If you complain no more of me, than I do of you, my Lord, you will have no great occaſion to repent of our meeting here; but not to obſtruct your freedom, I am going to leave you. She made the beſt of her way towards their Houſe, which was not far off; but the Earl endeavouring to ſtop her a little, An Impreſſion made by ſuch a one as you, ſaid he to her, is not eaſily to be razed out: Alas! I ought not to have look'd at you; but now it is too late, the Venom is taken, and your Abſence will augment its Strength. Leonore ſcarce minded what he ſaid, but went home; and the Earl fear⯑ing leſt he ſhou'd diſoblige her in following her any farther, came back to his Company, but in [29] ſo ill a Humour, as is ſcarce to be imagined. He went to the Place where he left Jamy, with an [...]tention to ask him who Leonore was; and to [...]form himſelf, if poſſibly he cou'd, concerning [...]is own Condition; but he loſt his Labour, for Jamy was very uneaſie at the ſight of him; and [...]ho' it ſeem'd not very probable, that the Coun⯑ [...]eſs of Devonſhire ſhou'd be diſcover'd under ſuch a Diſguiſe, nevertheleſs ſhe thought it her ſafeſt way not to run the riſque of it. The Earl Rivers looking about him on all ſides, in hopes to ſee one or other that might tell him what he wanted to know, at laſt eſpy'd young Digby: He made up to him as faſt as he cou'd, and ask'd him who the young Lady was? Her Name is Leonore, ſaid he to the Earl, ſhe is my Couſin, and will be my Wife before we are a Month older. The Earl Rivers was ſo far from look⯑ing upon him as a formidable Rival, that he pity'd the poor Lady who was to be marry'd to ſo ill-favour'd a Man.

So home he went, where finding the Earl of Pembrook in his melancholy poſture, he blam'd him for his not going along with him a Hunting, and then told him what had happen'd, in rela⯑tion, eſpecially, to Leonore, Jamy, and Digby. The Earl of Pembrook told him he knew the Mother of young Digby, that he lodged there one time when the King was at Grafton-Houſe; that her Niece might perhaps then not live with her, or that they kept her out of his ſight. ‘'Prudence requires, ſaid the Earl Rivers, to keep her out of the ſight of ſo accompliſh'd a Per⯑ſon as you are; and after all, I ſaw a young Gentleman with her, whom I look upon as a dangerous Companion; and if Madam Digby intends to keep her Nieces Heart entire for her Son, ſhe had better be without ſuch Gueſts. [30] Perhaps, continu'd the Earl of Pembrook, it was one of her Sons. I can't tell that, reply'd the Earl, but am ſure ſhe look'd not with an indifferent eye at him; her Head reſted upon his Knees, and ſhe had not power to turn her eyes any other way but upon him: Oh! what wou'd I not give to know the bottom of this whole Intrigue? And what good wou'd it do you, my Lord? ſaid the Earl of Pembrook coldly: Rather ſay, cry'd the Earl of Rivers, what good wou'd it not do me? Is it poſſible we ſhou'd talk a whole hour upon this Sub⯑ject, and you not perceive all this while, how far my Intereſt is concern'd in it?'’ My Lord Pembrook thought it not worth his while to re⯑turn an Anſwer, being quite buried in his own melancholy Thoughts.

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

This fair Lady in the mean time, moſt nar⯑rowly watch'd every ſtep Jamy had made; and as this ſerved only to convince her of his Indiffe⯑rency, ſo it furniſh'd her every day with freſh Matter of Grief and Vexation. What a ſhame is [31] it, ſaid ſhe, to be in love with a Man ſo inferiour in Birth to me? nay, to ſee my ſelf ſlighted by him, after having declared my Paſſion to him? All theſe diſmal reflections, enough to humble the moſt couragious perſon in the World, at laſt threw her into a moſt exceſſive melancholy. Young Digby, tho' very dull of apprehenſion, did not fail to obſerve it, and prompted by his Jealouſy, reſolved to make Jamy pay for his Miſtreſs's ill humour; 'twas upon that account he would ſeek frequent quarrels with him, but wanting courage to encounter him himſelf, he look'd out for a good and truſty hand that might diſpatch him. After having well weigh'd the matter for ſome time, he pitch'd upon his Fencing Maſter, as the moſt proper perſon to ſecond his ſiniſter intentions againſt Jamy: But he happened to be miſtaken in his choice, the Fencing Maſter was an honeſt man, and one who had as much kind⯑neſs for Jamy as if he had been his Son. He did indeed pretend to accept of the Propoſition, but it was, becauſe it ſhould not be done by another hand; and ſo he diſcovered the whole Plot to Jamy. Alas! cry'd he, full of Grief, what matters it? my Life is not worthy taking care of, tho' I muſt confeſs I ſhould be very ſorry to find you my Enemy. Let Digby but entruſt another with this Murther, and he ſhall find I will not oppoſe him. This is the ſtrangeſt piece of In⯑differency that ever I heard of, reply'd the Fen⯑cing Maſter, 'tis impoſſible for me to ſee it; I beg you therefore by all that is good, to think of leaving this Houſe, for fear any misfortune ſhould befall you here. Jamy return'd thanks for his kindneſs and care for him; but nevertheleſs ſhew'd ſo much indiſterency in regard to his own perſon, that the Fencing Maſter ſaw himſelf under a neceſſity of ſpeaking to Leonore about it; [32] having obſerved for ſome time paſt that ſhe ſhew'd a particular eſteem for him, and that probably it was upon that account young Digby had framed, his deſign againſt Jamy's Life. He gave her a full account of the matter, whereat ſhe was alarm'd to the higheſt degree; and tho' ſhe had put the utmoſt violences upon her ſelf to avoid him, and ſhew him all poſſible marks of indifferency, this news was ſufficient to en⯑gage her to confer with him upon that Sub⯑ject.

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

‘'Your Deportment towards me for ſome time paſt, ſaid ſhe, might eaſily diſpenſe me from concerning my ſelf for your Intereſt, could I diſpenſe with my ſelf; But the ſame Fatality that has made me ſenſible of your Deſerts, will not allow me to be acquainted with the danger you are in, without trembling at the very thoughts thereof: Yes, Jamy, your Life is dear to me, in ſpite of all your Ingratitude; therefore take heed, ſecure y [...]our ſelf againſt the Attempts of the Pe [...]fidious Digby. This Monſter thinks it not ſufficient to importune me with his nauſeous Paſſion, but alſo intends to make you a Sacrifice, if poſſible, to his Jea⯑louſy, which prompts him to imagin that you have a real Paſſion for me. I don't merit that obliging care you take for me, fair Leonore, re⯑ply'd Jamy; you muſt conſider me as an un⯑fortunate Perſon, who is not in a condition to return your Obligations, and therefore you ought to ſee me periſh without afflicting your ſelf. And why to ſee you periſh Jamy, ſaid [33] ſhe? Is it impoſſible for you to embrace the Offer I made you? Fly from this Houſe, but permit me to be a ſharer in your Flight. Are not your Enemies mine alſo? Let us therefore retire to ſome Country or other, ſuch as you like beſt; I ſhall be always contented as long as I am with you.'’

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

All this while the Counteſs of Devonſhire ex⯑pected with much impatience ſome alteration in her affairs, being weary of living thus in diſ⯑guiſe at Madam Digby's under the Name of Ja⯑my. Her Nurſe gave her from time to time an account of what paſs'd in relation to her ſelf; what noiſe her abſence made at London, and what pains the Earl of Devonſhire took to find her [34] out. For, tho' he did come no more to Court, he had ſo vaſt an acquaintance that he knew eve⯑ry thing that paſs'd, and not only this, he had ſent Spies alſo into all the Counties of the Kingdom to find her out, ſo that ſhe had all the reaſon in the world to be upon her Guard. This reaſon alone was ſufficient to make her continue in a place where Leonore's Love, and Mr. Digby's ha⯑tred were equally troubleſome to her; tho' to ſpeak the truth there was another Cauſe beſides this of her preſent affliction, viz. the remem⯑brance of the Earl of Warwick; whene'er ſhe took a walk in the ſhady Wood, ſhe fancied ſhe ſaw and heard him in his whole ſhape, mien, nay, even the ſound of his Voice, his engaging Air, and that Grandeur wherein he ſurpaſſed all others. All theſe imaginations ſerved only to raiſe new impreſſions, which were ſupported and nouriſhed by the Solitude of the Place. She would ſpend whole days in ſome of the darkeſt Walks to reproach him with his Ingratitude, juſt as if he had bin near enough to hear her; a con⯑vincing proof to her ſelf, that ſhe retained ſo ſtrong an inclination for him, as ſhe was not able to Maſter; which ſerved only to add to her Torments, and to turn her Anger at laſt againſt her ſelf.

The Earl Rivers's condition was no leſs un⯑fortunate; for the obſtacles he met with of ſee⯑ing Leonore rendring her more precious in his Eyes, he was talking day and night of her to the Earl of Pembroke, who inſtead of giving him the leaſt anſwer to that point, extoll'd the Me⯑rits and Innocence of the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire; and as nothing could be more diſagreea⯑ble to him, he did all he could to divert him from that Diſcourſe; and when his Paſſion would not ſuffer him any longer to purſue that [35] method, he kept a long and profound ſilence, to the no ſmall vexation of the Earl of Pembroke. I ſhould be glad to know, ſaid he, with ſome impatience, what your Deſign was in bringing me hither? Did you imagine I came to this place, to be your Confident in your fantaſtical Intrigues, when at the ſame time you will not give me leave to make my Complaints, in hopes of meeting with ſome Comfort in my Friend? Truly, anſwered the Earl Rivers, mine is no Chimera, Leonore is no Spectre to frighten one; and conſidering every thing, I have more reaſon on my ſide than you have; for my Lady Devon⯑ſhire loves no Body, or if ſhe does, 'tis certain it is the Earl of Warwick; ſuch a Rival as he is not ſo ſoon to be thrown out of the Saddle; you loſe both your time and your labour; and is not this next door to a madneſs? In this manner they uſed often times to paſs away the time together; but at laſt the Earl Rivers knowing that he ſhould ſtand in need of the Earl of Pembroke's aſſiſtance, began to condole his Paſſion; and at the ſame time forgot not to con⯑jure him to carry him to Madam Digby's, that he might ſpeak to Leonore, and inform himſelf concerning Jamy, whom he look'd upon as a dangerous Rival.

His Importunities and Complaiſance at laſt engaged the Earl of Pembroke to conduct him to Madam Digby's, in hopes to meet with an oppor⯑tunity of entertaining Leonore in private. The Earl Rivers deſirous to know how matters ſtood with his Miſtreſs before he went thither himſelf, appointed a place at a ſmall diſtance thence in a Wood, where to wait for his return. At parting he told him, Am not I a patient Lo⯑ver? the Repoſe of my Life depends on the ſuc⯑ceſs of your Converſation: If I meet with a re⯑pulſe, [36] I am loſt for ever. ‘'This is a violent Paſ⯑ſion indeed, anſwered the Earl of Pembroke; conſidering how little hopes you have. Why will you talk at that rate? ſaid the Earl of Rivers: Are not you ſufficiently convinced by your own experience, that one may love without hopes? and may not I flatter my ſelf with more hopes than you in regard to my Lady Devonſhire? ſhe treats you with the utmoſt rigour, ſhe is a mar⯑ry'd Lady, and you know ſhe prefers the Earl of Warwick to you.'’ He was ſo far touch'd to the quick by what he heard his Friend ſay, that he had almoſt taken a reſolution of not ſtirring any further for that time. I think, ſaid he, you make it your ſport to ſeek my deſtruction; What have I done, you ſhould revive in my head theſe melancholy Conſiderations? He was running on thus, till the Earl Rivers put a ſtop to his Complaints by entreating him without intermiſ⯑ſion to go to Madam Digby's. He was no ſooner entred the Houſe, but found the old Lady in the greateſt confuſion imaginable, by reaſon of the miſerable ſtate Leonore was reduced to, for the Poyſon ſhe had taken anſwered its operation ſo effectually, that her Life was deſpaired of. See⯑ing the whole Houſe in tears, he ask'd Madam Digby the cauſe of it? ſhe told him ſhe believed her Niece would not live two hours longer, be⯑cauſe ſhe would not take the leaſt thing to for⯑ward the Cure of her Diſeaſe; and that none of the ableſt Phyſicians could gueſs at the true cauſe of it.

The Earl of Pembroke touch'd with compaſſi⯑on for the young Lady, ask'd leave to be admit⯑ted into her Chamber; whither being conducted by Madam Digby, he found Leonore ſitting in an Elbow Chair, with a ſlight looſe Night-Gown about her only, tho' the Weather was not then [37] very warm; but ſhe had a fire burning within her, which none but Jamy could extinguiſh, and therefore would ſuffer no body to hold up her head but him. Her Eyes were conſtantly fix'd upon him, and the want of their uſual luſtre, and her pale Countenance, ſufficiently diſcovered the anguiſh of her Soul. I am at the point of Death, would ſhe cry frequently, and will you let me die? Theſe being the only words ſhe was heard to ſay, for a good while. Poor Jamy re⯑duced almoſt to Deſpair, to ſee this young Lady in ſo miſerable a Condition, did nothing but ſigh; and his ſighs being, in outward appearance, offenſive to her, ſhe wou'd look at him with ſome Marks of Anger, and continu'd ſaying, I am a dying, will you let me die? The Earl finding this young Lady under ſuch a deadly Languiſhment, and ſeem⯑ing to ask the Preſervation of her Life, made her a Compliment; which was anſwered by her only by a Nod, but continu'd in the ſame tone, Will you let me die? with ſo melancholy an Air and Voice, as drew Tears from all that beheld her.

At laſt the Earl of Pembrook caſting his eyes upon Jamy, diſcerned ſo great a reſemblance be⯑twixt him and the Counteſs of Devonſhire, that it is impoſſible to deſcribe the Confuſion it cau⯑ſed in his Mind. She knew him as ſoon as he enter'd the Room; which, as it occaſion'd no ſmall diſturbance in her, ſo the various Alterati⯑ons in her Face were undeniable Symptoms of her Uneaſineſs; and ſhe wou'd not have ſtaid long in the Chamber, had not Leonore, who wou'd not be without Jamy, kept her. So be⯑ing oblig'd to ſee herſelf expos'd to the Curio⯑ſity of the Earl of Pembrook, he told her, You are very conſtant in attending this poor dying La⯑dy? My Lord, anſwer'd Jamy with a low voice, for fear of being diſcover'd by the ſound thereof, [38] I am willing to do her all the petty Services I can. Perhaps, added the Earl, you are one of her Re⯑lations? I have not the honour of being ſo, reply'd he. And what brought you hither? continu'd my Lord; a young Gentleman ſo well accompliſh'd as you, might fix in a more advantageous place for his Fortune, than to ſpend his time in the Country. Inſtead of anſwering his Queſtion, Jamy told him, My Lord, our Patient is diſturbed at our Diſcourſe ſo near her.

The Earl hereupon ſeated himſelf in a Chair where he might more narrowly obſerve and take a view of Jamy; and the more he look'd at him, the more he diſcover'd of the Air and De⯑portment of the Counteſs of Devonſhire: Is ſhe then really eſcaped her Husband's Fury? ſaid he to himſelf; and is it in this Place ſhe has ſought for ſhelter under this Diſguiſe? Whilſt he was ſitting very penſive, for ſome time, the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire, who obſerved all his Moti⯑ons, began to be convinc'd, that if he was not already very certain of it, it wou'd not be long before he wou'd diſcover her Diſguiſe: Never was any poor Lady brought to ſuch an extremity, not knowing what Courſe to take for her Safety: However, ſhe took the firſt opportunity of get⯑ting out of the Room; but being, as yet, unre⯑ſolved what to do, went into the Wood, there to reflect upon the preſent Neceſſity ſhe was re⯑duced to, of leaving the Place. O matchleſs Frailty! cry'd ſhe, will my hard Fortune never ceaſe to Perſecute me? Which way I turn myſelf I meet thoſe that will perſecute me; ſome out of an implacable Hatred, conſpire againſt my Life; Others hurried on by Paſſion I can't ſubmit to, add to my Torments; let us therefore fly, let us re⯑tire to ſome Deſart or other, where I may ſpend the remnants of my miſerable Days in quietneſs: [39] She was upon the point of putting in execution her Reſolution, when ſhe was met by the Earl of Pembroke, juſt as ſhe was going out of the Park: He having taken particular notice of Jamy when he went out of the Room, and this proving an additional reaſon to augment his former Suſpi⯑cions, ſought only an opportunity to follow him. Leonore ſoon after perceiving he was gone, and asking with much earneſtneſs, where he was, my Lord pretending to be concern'd for the Sick Lady, went to look after him, and found him coming out of the Park. Leonore wants you, ſaid he to Jamy; but I can't alſo be without you, I muſt have one Moments Converſation with you. My Lord, reply'd ſhe, I want Senſe to entertain you; beſides you are ſenſible in the Condition this poor ſick Lady is in, I can't ſtay long from her. She had ſcarce ſaid theſe Words, but ſhe was a going away as faſt as ſhe cou'd. All theſe things ſerving only to confirm the Earl in his former Opinion, and unwilling to loſe ſo precious an Opportunity; this made him tranſgreſs the Rules of Decency, for he run after Jamy, and not without ſome Violence, ſtop'd him: No, no, ſaid he, I ſhall not ſuffer you to leave me thus; and then taking him by the hand, pull'd him againſt his Will, into the Wood:

It was here the Earl, once more, look'd ſted⯑faſtly at him for ſome time, and then breaking ſilence: Are not you ſenſible, ſaid he, I am con⯑vinced of what you wou'd make a Myſtery to me? Moſt adoreable Counteſs, don't refuſe to make me your Confident: How many Tears have I ſacrificed to your Death? I perfectly know you, 'tis impoſſi⯑ble ſuch a thing as this ſhou'd eſcape my penetrati⯑on; let me ſtand indebted to you for a Secret I am Maſter of already. The Reſpect I bear you, My Lord, anſwered Jamy modeſtly, makes me [40] imagine, that you have a mind to divert yourſelf with me, rather than that you ſhou'd really miſtake my Perſon; but will you give me leave to ask you upon what ground it is you give me the Title of a Counteſs? Oh! cruel Woman, teply'd he, do you think it poſſible I ſhou'd be miſtaken? How! ſhou'd that very Heart which adores you, not know you? Should the ſame Eyes that have ſhed ſo many Tears ſor you, miſtake when they ſee you? and is not your Cruelty alone, ſufficient to convince me that you are ſtill the ſame? I can't tell, my Lord, ſaid Jamy, with an angry Air, whom you take me for; but I think you had better not detain me, when you know Leonore wants me. Whom I take you for Madam, continu'd the Earl, Oh! I take you for the moſt cruel Perſon in the Univerſe; nobody has admittance to you, but the Earl of War⯑wick, this happy Mortal maintains his ground in your Heart, in ſpite of all your Adorers; and you delight in treating me thus cruelly, on purpoſe to oblige him: How your Eyes ſparkle with Diſdain and Anger! Alas! why will you make the moſt reſpectful, the moſt tender and moſt Unfortunate of all Lovers, the Object of your Hatred?

The Counteſs ſeeing him ſo ſenſibly afflicted, cou'd not forbear to feel ſome ſhare in his Pain, ſhe ſtood with her Arms a-croſs, and her Eyes fixt on the ground immoveable; not knowing what Reſolution to take, whether to diſcover or continue to conceal her Name. The Earl, who was not inſenſible of what paſs'd in her Heart, wou'd willingly at her Feet have conjured her to put an entire Confidence in him, but that he fear'd to be overſeen by ſomebody or another; but he forgot not to repreſent to her in the moſt lively Expreſſions that cou'd be invented, the ſignal Obligation he ſhou'd owe her, if ſhe wou'd make him a ſharer in the Secret. After various [41] Reflexions; ſhe reſolved not to comply with his Requeſt, and told him, ‘'ſhe thought it very hard to be thus perſecuted by a Perſon ſhe had nothing to do withal; and ſo away ſhe went,'’ ſo overwhelm'd with Grief, that ſhe ſcarce knew what ſhe did, or whither ſhe was going. The Earl was no leſs troubl'd than her⯑ſelf; not knowing what he had beſt to do: He follow'd her at a good diſtance with his Eyes, but his Reſpect to her Perſon wou'd not permit him to go after her. After a few moments ſtay, his impatience of ſeeing her again made him haſten out of the Wood to Leonore's Chamber; but was much ſurprized not to meet with her there. Leonore ask'd very earneſtly after Jamy; ‘'I am at the point of Death, ſaid ſhe, I want to talk with him about a Matter of the utmoſt Conſequence, both to me and him.'’ Search be⯑ing made after him in every Corner, at laſt word was brought, that he had been met on Horſe⯑back, riding as faſt as he cou'd from the Houſe. At this unexpected News, Leonere and the Earl being equally afflicted, the firſt fetch'd a deep Sigh, and deſired the Earl to draw nearer:

‘'You will doubtleſs be ſurprized, my Lord, ſaid ſhe to him, that not having the honour to know you, I ſhou'd chuſe you rather than any one of my own Family, the Executor of my laſt Will and Teſtament; but, it being my de⯑ſire to have it executed accordingly, without any regard to young Digby or his Mother; I promiſe myſelf from your Generoſity, that you will ſee Jamy put into the quiet Poſſeſſion of what I now bequeath to him, which is of my whole Eſtate, and every thing I am Miſtreſs of in the World: I don't queſtion but he will wonder at this Action, and perhaps I am in the wrong thus to reward his Ingratitude; but [42] my Heart is as full of Tenderneſs towards him, as his is full of Averſion to me. To be ſhort, my Lord, we are not at all times Maſters of the Sentiments of our Hearts; 'twas that made me deſire the ſame ſhare in his, as he had in mine, and notwithſtanding the inequality that is betwixt us, offer'd to marry him, if he thought fit, but his indifferency ſoon decided the Matter againſt my Requeſt. 'Tis therefore time to die, this is the only Satisfaction I can have without him.'’ At theſe Words, the Tears trickl'd down her Cheeks; and the Earl, who was not a little diſpos'd to melancholy, bore ſo conſiderable a ſhare in her Affliction, that ſhe ſoon perceiv'd it, and returning hearty Thanks, told him: ‘'I ſhou'd die with ſome Satisfaction, cou'd I have ſeen in Jamy ſomething reſemb⯑ling the ſame Sentiments you are pleas'd to ex⯑preſs: No body but himſelf would have de⯑nied me ſo reaſonable a Satisfaction; but were you acquainted with his Heart, you wou'd be ſurprized at his Cruelty.'’ ‘'Alas! Madam, ſaid the Earl to her, I know it too well. If he has proved the Cauſe of your Misfortunes, he has no leſs been the occaſion of mine. What do you ſay my Lord? reply'd Leonore, Do you take me right? I ſpoke of Jamy, that young Gentleman you ſaw in this Chamber. Yes, Leonore, anſwer'd he, I underſtand you very well, and that you may be ſenſible I did, know that the Perſon unto whom you have made your addreſſes, under the Name of Jamy, is a La⯑dy, whom you might ſtill ſee here at this mo⯑ment, had it not been for my coming hither; 'twas my fatal Preſence ſhe could not endure, 'tis that made her fly, we ſhall ſee her no more. However, keep my Secret as Religiouſly as I will keep yours.'’ Leonore full of Amazement [43] and Confuſion at what was told her, was not able to utter one Word; ſhe could ſcarce believe what the Earl ſaid, tho' at the ſame time ſhe wiſh'd it might be true, for ſhe began to be ſen⯑ſible that the Repoſe of her Life depended there⯑on, which made her ask him a thouſand Queſti⯑ons. At laſt ſhe ingaged him by repeated Oaths to confirm the Truth to her, which made her re⯑cal to mind ſeveral things ſhe had ſeen Jamy do, which were much more uſual among Women than Men, and which might eaſily have created a ſuſpicion in her, had ſhe not been blinded by Paſſion.

After having well weigh'd the preſent Circum⯑ſtances of her Life, Death began to appear to her in its moſt terrible ſhape; ſhe had flatter'd her ſelf, that her Generoſity to Jamy expreſs'd in her laſt Will and Teſtament, and the Declarati⯑on ſhe intended to make him of having taken ſome Poyſon, would produce more tender effects than all her Diſcourſes had been able to do, and move his heart to Love, or at leaſt to Compaſſi⯑on; but this Deſign being rendred abortive by his Abſence, and by what ſhe had heard from the Earl, ſhe told him, after ſome moments ſilence: The Confeſſion I have made to you is ſo very diſa⯑greeable to a Woman of my temper, that what⯑ever you will hear me ſay further, will be over⯑come by me without much difficulty. I tell you this, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, in reference to the condition you now ſee me in; what I have done was the effect of my Deſpair, I have poyſoned my ſelf. The Earl ſtood amazed at the ſtrangeneſs of the thing. Is it poſſible, Leonore, cry'd he, that you had cou⯑rage enough to make an attempt upon your own life? Oh! 'tis time to aſſiſt you, 'tis time to get proper Remedies to ſave you. I ſhould not be a⯑gainſt it, reply'd ſhe, if it could be done without [44] the knowledge of my Friends, who elſe will cer⯑tainly reproach me with it; and my Aunt will force me to marry her Son; 'Twas in ſome mea⯑ſure the Averſion I had to that match, which made me fix my Love upon Jamy. The Earl perceiving Leonore willing enough to live, provided her Vanity might be thus far ſatisfy'd, as to keep her deſign of making her ſelf away by Poyſon from her Friends, told her, he would himſelf bring her proper Antidotes; and if his affairs ſhould call him to London, the Earl Rivers was to do it in his ſtead; that he being his intimate Friend, he could promiſe in his behalf, that he would concern himſelf in ſo particular a man⯑ner in her welfare, that ſhe might without the leaſt fear put an intire confidence in him.

He left her with this aſſurance, making all the haſte he could to the Wood, to acquaint his Friend with what had happened; who in the mean while had paſs'd his time, under a thou⯑ſand Inquietudes, thinking that his Friend had forgot him; but 'tis impoſſible to expreſs his Affliction when he heard the Earl of Pembroke particularize to him what had paſs'd at Madam Digby's Houſe in reference to Leonore: 'Twas not alone the danger he underſtood ſhe was in, that troubled his mind, but alſo the dread of a beautiful Rival; but when he was told ſhe had taken Poyſon, he remain'd like one that was Thunder-ſtruck. So ſoon as he had recovered himſelf a little, he was for taking Poſt immedi⯑ately for London, to provide ſuch Remedies as ſhould be judged proper under her preſent Cir⯑cumſtances. But the Earl of Pembroke diſliking his Reſolution: ‘'If you go to London, ſaid he, and come back without paying your Reſpect to the King and Madam Gray, they will perhaps take it amiſs; and if you do, it will take you [45] up more time than can be allow'd of. Take my advice, ſtay you at Grafton, and let me go, let me follow my cruel Deſtiny. Alas! was there ever ſuch thing as this? I met my Lady Devonſhire by the oddeſt Chance in the world, Love ſeem'd as if ſhe intended to beſtow ſome of her favours upon me; but when I thought I might flatter my ſelf with hopes, ſhe proves as cruel to me as ever. Why then ſhould you make any further Attempt?'’ ſaid the Earl Rivers to him: ‘'Reaſon and Deſpair ought to have bin my Phyſicians, reply'd he, but hi⯑therto they have not bin able to compaſs the Cure.'’

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

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

All his thoughts were taken up with ſuch like Notions for ſeveral days, however this made him not neglect to ſend proper Medicines to Leonore, which produced this happy effect, that ſhe ſoon recovered of her Diſtemper. This done, he em⯑ploy'd all his diligence in finding out the Coun⯑teſs with all imaginable ſecrecy; and meeting with the Larl of Warwick, was very cautious in mentioning the leaſt thing to him of what had happened at Madam Digby's; and the extream [47] affliction he obſerved in the Earl, at the loſs of my Lady Devonſhire, was ſo far from moving him to compaſſion, that he told him, ſhe was certainly dead, as often as he ſaw him, [...] pur⯑poſe to encreaſe the vexation of his Rival. At laſt the Court becoming inſupportable to the Earl of Warwick, he deſired leave of the King to retire for ſome time to Sion-hill, a Seat of his about 8 or 9 Miles from London, in the way to Windſor, ſeated upon the Bank of the River Thames. The Earl of Pembroke's return to Lon⯑don, whom Madam Gray eſteem'd as much as ſhe hated the E. of Warwick, facilitated his Requeſt; for ſhe looking upon it as a Piece of Policy to remove her Enemy at a further di⯑ſtance, ſoon impetrated the King's Leave for his Departure, wherewith the Earl was exceedingly ſatisfy'd, ſeeing himſelf now at full liberty to abandon himſelf entirely to the higheſt degree of Grief that ever any mortal man was capable of. He left his Family at London, taking along with him only Berincour and ſome few others to at⯑tend him. Thus left to his thoughts, he had this ſad comfort to condole himſelf without being overheard, and to recall to his mind all the Cir⯑cumſtances of an Amorous Engagement, he pur⯑ſued without the leaſt hopes of Succeſs.

In this Extremity he reſolves to go to France, intending to ſtay ſome time at Calais, whereof he was Governour; for tho' one Vauelain a Gen⯑tleman of Gaſcony, in whom he put more than ordinary confidence, was his Deputy-Governour there, that Poſt was of ſuch vaſt conſequence, and ſo honourable, that nothing leſs than a Paſ⯑ſion like his for the Counteſs of Devonſhire could retain a Man in England. ‘'To what a con⯑dition am I reduced to, ſaid he to Berincour! I am for leaving the Court, Chelſey and Sion⯑hill, [48] I am for leaving the Kingdom, becauſe every thing revives in my heart the Remem⯑brance of the Counteſs. But, my Lord, re⯑ply'd the Gentleman, do you imagin that this ſo dear a Remembrance will not follow you, where ever you go? have you forgot thoſe me⯑lancholy days at Caerleon? There is a vaſt differ⯑ence, cry'd he, betwixt that time and this. I had reaſon to believe, that the Counteſs did not hate me, and I knew ſhe was ſafe in her own Family; but the Caſe is quite different now, ſhe has writ a ſlighting Letter to me, and has ſuffered her ſelf to be carry'd away by an⯑other: Good God! what a Contrivance was this for a Perſon of her Merits! What had I committed againſt her, and why would not ſhe rather beſtow this Favour upon me than ano⯑ther Lover? Does ſhe think 'tis poſſible he ſhould love her more violently than I did? and notwithſtanding this ſhe thought ſhe could not offer a more pleaſing Sacrifice to him, than to break off with me. But, added he, All theſe things are now remembred to no purpoſe, ſince I can't any ways doubt of her Death. This cruel Husband of hers has Sacrificed her to his Jealouſy, and I am too fully revenged: All my thoughts of her ſhall for the future be em⯑ployed in believing her not ſo much in the wrong in reſpect to my ſelf, as I did imagin; I will think her faithful, to regret her loſs for all the Remainder of my Life.'’

The Earl would often talk to Berincour after this manner; and when he did not, it was to in⯑dulge himſelf with leſs Interruption in his Re⯑membrance of my Lady Devonſhire; this being the only thing he thought a fit object of his care, for he was grown ſo regardleſs of his for⯑tune, that every thing that Madam Gray could [49] do to ſupplant him, was indifferent to him, On the other hand, the Earls of Pembroke and Rivers had the beſt opportunity in the World, of improving his Abſence to their advantage, had they been in a condition to do it. But the firſt ſeeing himſelf more intangled in Love than ever, thought of nothing elſe but how to find out my Lady Devonſhire without making the leaſt noiſe, for fear it might otherwiſe be attend⯑ed with ill Conſequences. As for the other, he dream'd of nothing but Leonore. The Antidote was taken without Repugnancy: This young Lady having changed her mind, was not for dy⯑ing ſince ſhe knew that Jamy was a Woman, ſhe was aſham'd of her frailty, and all her thoughts were now taken up in checking a Paſſion which had but too much tormented her: You may ima⯑gin that the Earl Rivers neglected nothing to diſpoſe her in his favour; and leſt his Aſſiduity ſhould afford Cauſe of ſuſpicion to Madam Dig⯑by, he inſinuated to her with much dexterity, that he could not intruſt any body but himſelf, with the true method and management of this Reme⯑dy, that therefore he ſhould be obliged to ſerve its Operation every day, and that for a conſider⯑able time. All the Family ſhew'd abundance of Reſpect and Gratitude to him, in conſideration of the Pains he took to preſerve Leonore's Life, as well as all her Acquaintance; ſo that there needed not much trouble for him to get a free Acceſs.

In the mean time Jamy's [...]ight made no ſmall noiſe amongſt them. One of Leonore's Atten⯑dants had over heard ſeveral things that were ſpoken betwixt her and the Earl of Pembroke, and this join'd to ſome other Circumſtances ſhe had taken notice of, made her believe that Jamy was no Man, but came there is Diſguiſe. She [50] could not conceal her thoughts from ſome of her Friends, and theſe tatling it to others, the thing was not only divulged by degrees, but alſo en⯑creaſed by certain additional Circumſtances. The Earl of Devonſhire, who had his Spies in every Place, was ſoon inform'd of what had happen⯑ed at Madam Digby's, and the news thereof ſoon reaching the King's Ear (tho related under dif⯑ferent Circumſtances) he and Madam Gray ask'd the Earl of Pembroke a thouſand Queſtions about it; which put him to no ſmall Confuſion, fearing leſt the Counteſs of Devonſhire ſhould ſuſpect him of having betray'd her Secret. Yes, cry'd he, 'tis my misfortune, ſhe will infallibly impute the Diſ⯑covery of this whole Adventure to my Indiſcreti⯑on; I ſay to me, who is the moſt faithful of all her friends, and who would rather die than to make her uneaſie upon any account whatever; notwithſtanding all this, I am certain ſhe will en⯑tertain quite another Opinion of me.

The Marqueſs of Montague, who was one of the moſt honourable and moſt amiable Perſons in England, had ſo tender a Friendſhip for the Earl of Warwick his Brother, that he never let ſlip the leaſt opportunity of obliging him: He no ſooner heard what was rumour'd abroad concern⯑ing the Counteſs of Devonſhire, but to Sion-hill he went, to tell him, that it was believed ſhe was ſtill living, knowing that he could not put any greater Obligation upon him than this. Com⯑ing thither, he was told by Berincour, that the Earl would ſee no body, that he was come thi⯑ther from London to avoid all manner of Con⯑verſation, that in caſe he ſhould give him admit⯑tance before the reſt of his Friends, they would be apt to take exception at it, and that therefore he deſired him to acquieſce in what he had told him: My Brother knows me, anſwered the Mar⯑queſs, [51] to be the beſt of his Friends, and I ſhould have reaſon to be much diſſatisfy'd if he ſhould uſe me not as ſuch upon this Occaſion; However tell him, that if he will not admit of a Viſit of the Marqueſs's of Montague, he may receive me as a Meſſenger who brings him ſome News concerning the Counteſs of Devonſhire.

At theſe words Berincour went to his Maſter's Apartment, unto whom he told what he had heard the Marqueſs ſay touching the Counteſs of Devonſhire. The very name of the Counteſs being alone ſufficient to charm the Earl, he run out ſtraightways to meet his Brother, and embracing him tenderly, conjured him, that if he had any News of the Counteſs, to let him know it im⯑mediately. But my dear Brother, added he, don't flatter me, let not your Deſire of allaying my Pain, ingage you to feed me up with falſe hopes. I am not ſo far aſſured of what I am to tell you, reply'd the Marqueſs, as to engage my word for it, but the Circumſtances are ſuch, as make the thing very probable. He then gave him a full ac⯑count of what was ſaid at Court in relation to it; whereat the Earl was extremely ſatisfy'd, be⯑ing glad to meet with ſome matter of Conſolati⯑on, tho 'twere only for a few moments. He told the Marqueſs he durſt ſcarce promiſe to himſelf ſo much happineſs, nevertheleſs he began to be much better compoſed in his mind: 'Twas this that made him detain the Marqueſs, (who in⯑tended to return immediately to London.) Stay, ſtay here, ſaid he to him, let us act in concert to deceive me, perſwade me that the Counteſs is yet alive. But alas! cry'd he, did ever I really be⯑lieve her to be dead, and was able to out-live her? I muſt own to you, Brother, ſhe has had ſomething of a foreſight of what you now confirm to me. The Marqueſs neglecting nothing which [52] he judged might ſtrengthen him in this opinion, they paſs'd that Evening in a very agreeable Con⯑verſation.

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

The Earl of Warwick then turning into a Walk upon the very brink of the River, ſeated himſelf under a Tree, where he could not be ea⯑ſily diſcovered. Here he was pondring with him⯑ſelf, whether he had beſt go to London in ſearch of the Counteſs, or to write to the Earl of Pem⯑broke, to be inform'd concerning what had hap⯑pened at Madam Digby's; but he was ſoon check'd in this reſolution, when he reflected, that the Earl had kept it as a Secret from him. I told you before, that they had ſeen one another, ſince his return from Grafton-houſe, when he was ſo far from mentioning any thing of the matter, that on the contrary he aſſured the Earl of War⯑wick, that my Lady Devonſhire was actually dead: This made him begin to conſider the Earl of Pembroke as a Creature of Madam Gray, and knowing that he had been in the Country with the Earl Rivers, this Lady's Brother, and his [53] Enemy, theſe Reflections could not but create in him a jealouſy againſt the Earl of Pembroke. He reſolved at laſt to ſend Berincour to Madam Digby's, to inform himſelf of all ſhe knew of that Affair, but feared that if my Lady Devon⯑ſhire was really concerned in this Adventure, this Curioſity of his might turn to her diſad⯑vantage.

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

The Earl being ſo near as to underſtand every word the Stranger ſpoke, had the Curioſity, as ſoon as the Water-man was at ſome diſtance from them, to know, who it was that wanted him; ſo ariſing from his place, I belong, ſaid he, to the Earl of Warwick, if you think fit to intruſt me with a Letter for him, I will infallibly bring you an Anſwer. I know you too well, reply'd the Gen⯑tleman, ſurprized to meet him in this place, to miſtake your Perſon; I am come here to have your Life, or to loſe mine. And then drawing his Sword, advanced to the Earl, No Quarter, No Quarter, cry'd he, defend your ſelf, or I will kill you. 'Tis eaſie to be ſuppoſed, that my Lord Warwick, who was one of the braveſt Men upon Earth, would not have have ſuffered himſelf to be thus urged by this unknown Perſon, had he [54] not ſoon known his voice: not doubting there⯑fore but that ſhe was the Counteſs, and that what the Marqueſs of Montague had told him was really true, he was overjoy'd to ſee himſelf aſſured by the perſon her ſelf of her Life; but on the other hand being vex'd to the heart to find her ſo far enraged at him, as that no leſs than his blood would ſatisfie her, he remain'd immoveable like a Statue. At laſt he reſolved, in⯑ſtead of retreating, to meet her: You deſire my Life, Divine Counteſs, ſaid he, ſtrike the ſtroke, this is perhaps the only minute I have been able to oblige you; and ſo was ruſhing upon her Sword (for it was actually ſhe.) But how ſoon is a perſon prepoſſeſs'd with a moſt tender eſteem diſarm'd by ſo entire a Submiſſion as this! The fair Lady was ſo ſurprized to be diſcovered, and ſo uncertain what to do, that ſhe was ſcarce able to hold her Sword, and had it not been for a Tree that ſupported her, ſhe had drop'd down upon the Ground, being ſeized with a moſt vio⯑lent trembling. She ſaw the Earl at her Feet, embracing her Knees, bathing his hands in his Tears, and his voice intercepted by a thouſand ſighs, could ſcarce expreſs the Sentiments of his heart. Riſe, riſe, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, I can't ſuf⯑fer to ſee you at my Feet. Oh! Madam, reply'd he, Either give me leave to die, or reſtore me to your favours. 'Tis ſo long a time, return'd ſhe, you have laboured to ferfeit them, that I know not by what misfortune it is, I ſhould not hate you more than I do. Have I laboured, ſaid the Earl, to remove my ſelf from your heart, alas! what way muſt a man take then to come nearer to it? Have not I ſerved you with the ſame Veneration as they do the Gods? No, no, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, you have made all the ill uſe you could of a Letter I ſent you by Berincour. How! cry'd he, Do you [55] mean thoſe two cruel lines you ſent to me during my Exilement, which alone afflicted me more than all my Diſgraces together?

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

But Madam, ſaid he to the Counteſs of De⯑vonſhire, what is it that could move you to come to kill me? What is it I have been guilty of? If [...] to adore you, I ſhall always be ſo, and why will you delay to put in execution a thing that will tend to your ſatisfaction? I will ingenuouſly confeſs to you, my Lord, reply'd the, had I been acquainted with your real Sentiments. I was too much concerned therein, to put ſuch a puniſhment upon you. But don't you remember that it was every body's opinion that it was you that made this Attempt, and that it was done with my con⯑ſent? How did I know, as the caſe ſtood, whether it was the effect of an exceſſive Paſſion, whereof we are not Maſters at all times; or rather of your malice to ruin my Reputation as well in my Fami⯑ly as in the World? 'Twas this opinion that made me reſolve to purchaſe my Juſtification at the expence of your Life; I fancied it would prove the trueſt reparation of my Honour, when the [56] World ſhould be made ſenſible what Deſpair had made me do upon that account, and I look'd upon it as the only means left me to recover my Repoſe. Well, well, Madam, ſaid he, don't delay any lon⯑ge, I am ready to ſacrifice my ſelf with pleaſure for your ſatisfaction; you will at leaſt be convin⯑ced what I was capable of doing for you. That de⯑ſign drop'd that very moment you were for ſupport⯑ing it, tho' I apply'd my ſelf to Fencing whilſt I was at Madam Digby's on purpoſe to make the ſurer work of it; but after all I was very ſenſi⯑ble that to put it in Execution I ſhould find it a harder task to vanquiſh my ſelf than you. Oh! Madam, did you not know your ſelf to be at all times the Miſtreſs of my Life? reply'd the Earl, what occaſion was there for a Sword or other Arms to take away my Life? If you are ſtill of opinion that it may conduce to your Glory, never ſpare an unfortunate Perſon whom you have made ſuffer ſo much. Oh! my Lord, reply'd ſhe, there is ſomething that protects you againſt all my anger! At leaſt don't inſult for the future over my fraity; If I muſt ſpeak it to my ſhame, I can aſſure you, it will afford you no matter of Triumph. What is it I have committed, added he, you ſhould deal ſo rigorouſly with me? Are you afraid, I ſhould he apt to flatter my ſelf too much? I don't very well know what I fear, ſaid ſhe, but it ſeems as if I ought to have a ſecret miſtruſt of my ſelf in re⯑gard to you.

The Earl not able to contain himſelf for Joy, was going to throw himſelf at the fair Coun⯑teſs's Feet, when the Waterman returning from Sion-hill, gave an account of his ſucceſs in his Errand. She bid him go and ſtay for her coming at ſome diſtance thence, What will you reſolve to do, Madam? ſaid the Earl to her, can you ima⯑gine I ſhould ſuffer you to expoſe your ſelf alone [57] to new dangers? Pray ſtay for a little time at Sion-hill; we will take care for every thing there; I will engage never to ſee you, but at ſuch hours as you ſhall think fit; and no body in the world ſhall know any thing of your being here. Alas! but I ſhall know it, my Lord, cry'd the Counteſs, and that is enough for me to refuſe it; Let me undergo what dangers I muſt, I can't re⯑ſolve to avoid them by expoſing my Reputation by ſuch an Action. How! will you be gone then, cruel perſon, cry'd the Earl, is it reſolved then that the deſire you have of avoiding me, muſt make you fall into the hands of a terrible Husband? I muſt hide my ſelf, reply'd ſhe, but there is no occaſion for you to be concern'd in taking care thereof; I will go to my Nurſe, and I will take the firſt Opportunity of going over into France-Oh! Madam, ſaid the Earl, you contrive your own Ruin. You may be ſatisfy'd the Earl of De⯑vonſhire is inform'd of all that paſs'd at Madam Digby's: He knows Jamy was ſent thither by your Nurſe, all the Circumſtances that attended this adventure leave no room to doubt but that it was you: If you are ſo nice in this point as not to be ſatisfy'd in my ſtay at Sion-hill, I will go to London, and am ready to depart at that very mi⯑nute you command it.

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

The Waterman being ſent away, the fair Coun⯑teſs in her Man's Apparel went along with the Earl towards Sion-hill. This being the firſt [58] time in all his Life he had a full opportunity of Diſcourſing her with ſome freedom, he was ſo far tranſported with joy, that he would frequent⯑ly ſtop her, and begin to rehearſe the ſame thing he had but juſt ſaid before. How happy did he think himſelf! what ſatisfaction did he not feel within his Breaſt! He feared not long ago that he was hated, he dreaded the Death of the Coun⯑teſs, but now all his Inquietudes were diſſipated at once, he had ſight of his Counteſs again, and found her not diſſatisfied at her not having kill'd him.

The Marqueſs of Mountague in the mean while was not a little diſturbed at this long ſtay of his Brother, and knowing both his Deſpair, and the multitude of his Enemies, feared ſome ill accident might have befaln him. The King's Favour had procured him abundance of them, but eſpecially the Earl of Devonſhire, his Family and Friends, bore him a moral hatred, looking upon him as the cauſe of their Misfortunes. The Chevalier de Hereford, whoſe unhappy Paſſi⯑on for the Counteſs encreaſed every day, conſi⯑dered the Earl of Warwick as his moſt cruel Enemy, and Madam Gray's Creatures ſhew'd no leſs Animoſity againſt him; ſo that the Mar⯑queſs of Mountague, no longer able to be at quiet under ſuch a terrible incertitude, went out and ſearch'd all thoſe ſolitary Places whither the Earl uſed to retire to utter his Complaints and Sighs. Making the beſt of his way he could towards the ſame Walk whither he had ſeen him go before he left him that, day he eſpy'd him walking along in Company of a Gen⯑tleman, who ſeeming ſurprized at the ſight of him, was going to turn another way, till the Earl told him: ‘'Fear nothing, I will be anſwer⯑able for my Brother, and you are I hope ſatis⯑fy'd, [59] I will take care not to impoſe upon you.'’ Then going forward to kneel and embrace him moſt tenderly: I can't, ſaid he, but make you a Partner in my Satisfaction; this Gentleman is come to bring me ſome News from the Counteſs of Devonſhire; if you love me, keep the Secret to your ſelf: and when we come to Sion-hill, let it be given out, he is come to pay you a Viſit, whereby to amuſe and diſappoint the inquiſitiveneſs of the Family. The Marqueſs was overjoy'd at the Confidence the Earl put in him; he ſaluted the Gentleman; but taking a narrow View of him, found him ſo beautiful, handſom and well made, that he was ſtruck with Admiration. The oftner he look'd at him, the more he was confirm'd in his Suſpicion that it was the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire, who came to ſhelter her ſelf at the Earl's Houſe. Many other Circumſtances, ſuch as her Voice, the ſweetneſs of her Eyes, her modeſt De⯑portment, and in ſhort her graceful Air, were all ſuch things as he thought cou'd not be centred in any other Perſon but her ſelf.

The Earl, the Marqueſs and the Lady ſupp'd together, or to ſpeak more truly, ſat down at Table, for they eat nothing; the Earl being quite tranſported with Joy, and the Marqueſs ſtrucken with Admiration, and taken up wholly in viewing the Counteſs. As for her part, tho' ſhe was well enough pleas'd with the Earl's Ju⯑ſtification, and her having found him again, ſhe was not without certain Reflections; which di⯑ſturbing her Mind, you might have read her Me⯑lancholy in her Face. The Earl, who narrowly obſerv'd her, ſoon gueſſing in ſome meaſure at her thoughts, as ſoon as he had an Opportu⯑nity of ſpeaking to her alone, conjur'd her to be at eaſe. What is it you fear, Madam? ſaid he, my Life, my Fortune, and all my Intereſts are [60] at your diſpoſal; I will die before I ſee the leaſt Diſgrace befal you. Oh! my Lord, cry'd ſhe, with Tears in her Eyes, The ſo generous Offers you make me can't ſatisfy my own Nicety. Can you ſuppoſe I can ſee my ſelf at Sion hill, diſguis'd in Man's Habit, alone, left and abandon'd by my Family, reproach'd by every body, without concei⯑ving an horrour againſt my ſelf? Don't tell me of my Innocence, and the Satisfaction I ought to take in knowing my ſelf not guilty of the leaſt thing that might make me bluſh; neither am I cer⯑tain, whether I may flatter my ſelf of continuing to be ſuch, ſince I know you; and as the Saying of Caeſar, in reſpect to his Wife, was always in my Thoughts, ſo I apply the ſame to my ſelf, being more nice of my Reputation than can well be ima⯑gin'd. What will become of me, thus toſs'd under theſe Circumſtances? If I ſtay here, am I not loſt for ever? If I go from hence, I muſt ex⯑poſe my ſelf to great Dangers: Judge then of my Inquietude. 'Tis I, Madam, reply'd the Earl, that will go from hence; I have already conſi⯑der'd of the Matter, and intend to leave my Bro⯑ther here. He is a ſenſible and diſcreet Perſon; I can entirely confide in him, whilſt I go to Lon⯑don, to hear how things go, whereof I will give you from time to time an exact Account, and re⯑ceive your further Commands. The Counteſs, who approv'd of his Departure, cou'd neverthe⯑leſs not forbear ſighing, when ſhe underſtood that he was to be gone the next day. She thank'd him for his Complaiſance; and told him, That nothing but ſuch an Accident as this, cou'd have engag'd her to ſee him quit his own Houſe; but that the Tranquillity of her Mind, in ſome mea⯑ſure, depended thereon.

The Counteſs being inclin'd to go to Bed, the Earl left the Room; and throwing himſelf af⯑terwards [61] upon a Bed, with his Brother the Mar⯑queſs of Montague, they ſpent the remainder of the Night in talking of the Counteſs. The Earl did not now in the leaſt regret all his paſs'd Suf⯑ferings; and tho' he foreſaw many Difficulties, and Obſtacles, he was likely to meet with in his way, every thing appear'd pleaſing to him, if he cou'd but pleaſe the Counteſs. You make me the Confident of your Love, ſaid the Marqueſs to him; and tho' this ought to make me proof againſt her Charms, I have Eyes, I am not without a Heart: I deſire you, my Lord, not to expoſe me to the greateſt Danger you cou'd think of. It wou'd be an odd Story, reply'd the Earl, that you who have always had an Indifferency for the Fair Sex, ſhou'd now begin with loving the ſame Perſon I love: No, no; I know you better than you do your ſelf: Don't be frightned with no⯑thing, but take care to preſerve me a Treaſure, that is dearer to me than my own Life.

The next Morning at Day-break, the Counteſs got out of Bed, and receiv'd the Earl and the Marqueſs in a moſt magnificent looſe Night-Gown; her Hairs hanging in Buckles upon her Shoulders, with a red Bonnet lin'd and edg'd with black Velvet on her Head. The Earl was ſo much delighted to ſee her in this Dreſs, that for a few Minutes he was not able to utter one word: Then kneeling at her Feet, I am agoing to Lon⯑don, Madam, (ſaid he) my Brother who knows the whole Secret, is to ſtay here, to keep you Company, to ſpeak of me ſometimes to you, and to ſend me frequent Tidings concerning you. You put the Marqueſs, ſaid ſhe, to a needleſs trouble; I deſire only ſome few Books, and a ſolitary Clo⯑ſet, where I may be at liberty to entertain my ſelf with my own Thoughts. The Marqueſs ſaid nothing, becauſe he began already to feel the [62] effects of ſome Sparks of that Fire, he intended to ſtifle within his Breaſt. But the Earl, who minded it not, deſir'd him to ſtay behind; and then told the Counteſs every thing that muſt be imagined to proceed from the moſt lively, ten⯑der and reſpectful Paſſion in the World: and as it was death to him to leave her, ſo he cou'd not forbear to conjure her to let him ſtay but one Day longer at Sion-hill. Were ſhe to have conſulted her own Heart only, his Requeſt wou'd ſcarce have met with a Refuſal; but ſhe being very uneaſy at her being there: Such is my Miſ⯑fortune, ſaid ſhe, that I muſt deny my ſelf every thing that may tend to my Satisfaction. You know, My Lord, this is a Maxim I have preſcrib'd to my ſelf long ago; perhaps another Perſon wou'd not inſiſt upon every punctilio; but ſuch is my hard Fate, that whatever I do, is taken in the wrong ſenſe. At theſe Words the Tears ſtood in her Eyes; which being perceiv'd by the Earl, furniſh'd him freſh matter of Grief. Alas! Ma⯑dam, (ſaid he) muſt I carry along with me the Idea of ſo melancholy a Sight? Muſt I ſee you cry, and is it I that is the occaſion of it? I, I ſay, who love you with ſo much Tenderneſs and Reſ⯑pect? Is it my Paſſion that cauſes you theſe Suf⯑ferings? The Counteſs return'd no Anſwer; but with her Eyes lifted up towards Heaven, re⯑main'd in a penſive poſture: at laſt, nodding to the Earl, Go, go, my Lord, ſaid ſhe to him, fly from me, I conjure you to do it; but never rob me of your Heart. He took leave immediate⯑ly, but with no leſs Violence to himſelf, than if he were to have taken a Voyage round the World. As his unexpected Return to Court ſupriz'd every-body, ſo the Tranquillity that appear'd in all his Actions, was a matter of ſuch a nature, as put Madam Gray and the Earl of Pembroke [63] upon the Rack, to know the Cauſe thereof; whilſt the King was highly ſatisfy'd to ſee his Favourite in the ſame pleaſant Humour wherein he ſo much delighted, and the Earl's Friends took no ſmall ſhare in this Appearance of his Sa⯑tisfaction.

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

The Marqueſs of Montague faithfully diſ⯑charg'd the Truſt; he attended the Counteſs with much aſſiduity, and neglected nothing that might divert her Spleen, being carefully ſeconded by the Earl himſelf, who came thither every other [64] Day; and wou'd have come oftner, had not ſome weighty Reaſon kept him back. He gave an ac⯑count to my Lady Devonſhire of every thing he heard; and ſometimes wou'd add ſome thing that might frighten and detain her where ſhe was; ſince the Earl's chief Felicity at this time was centred in her being at Sion hill. As for the Marqueſs of Montague, he found to his Coſt, that all the Reſolutions he had taken of continu⯑ing indifferent whilſt he remain'd with the Coun⯑teſs, prov'd too weak by far, to reſiſt the force of her Beauty and Merits. My Brother has no real cauſe of complaint againſt me, ſaid he to himſelf, I ſuffer without ſeeking for Eaſe: Alas! what had I done to him, to make me his Confident? What if I never was in love before, and muſt he therefore ſuppoſe me to be inſenſible, in regard to what is the moſt amiable thing in the World? He has prepar'd ſuch Torments for me, as muſt prove fatal to my Repoſe. Whilſt he was making theſe Reflections, the Earl of Warwick, as he was a go⯑ing to Sion hill, eſpy'd him ſitting at the foot of a rocky Hill, near the River ſide. Seeing him ſo pen⯑ſive, he cou'd not forbear to enquire the reaſon thereof: I am ready to confeſs the truth, reply'd the Marqueſs, 'tis becauſe I am in love with my Lady Devonſhire; her Eyes exert their Power no leſs over me than over you. I have hitherto kept a moſt profound ſilence, tho' I was a thouſand times in a mind to break it. I don't tell you this, to cauſe in you the leaſt ſymptom of Pain; I am not a Rival dangerous enough to you; but can't for⯑give my ſelf, I ſhould make ſo ill a uſe of your Con⯑fidence in me. You wou'd have me, my Lord, ſpeak to her only of you, and I can ſay ſcare any thing but for my ſelf: You wou'd have me ſerve you, and I am vex'd to the Soul, I muſt do you a Diſ⯑ſervice. After having made you this Declaration, [65] I deſire you wou'd let me return to London, whi⯑ther my Duty calls me, and where I ſhall commit nothing that may occaſion any Diſpleaſure in you.

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

They went both together to pay their Reſpects to her, and found her very melancholy, on ac⯑count of the inſurmountable Difficulties ſhe met with every day, which hinder'd her Departure; and the Earl did not neglect any opportunity of re⯑preſenting them more dangerous than they really were; and afterwards, to flatter her with hopes, ſometimes of the King's Protection, ſometimes of a Reconciliation betwixt her and the Counteſs of Angleſey her Mother. Nay, he told her he wou'd (if all fail'd) carry her into France; de⯑ſiring only ſhe wou'd have a little patience; ſo that by theſe Infinuations he inſenſibly detain'd her in a place, where he had frequently the Sa⯑tisfaction of being with her. As to the Marqueſs of Montague, he told her, that he finding himſelf not in a capacity to do her any Service here, he wou'd return to London to ſerve her more effe⯑ctually there. She return'd for Anſwer, She was [66] ſorry for his Departure from Sion-hill, that his witty and complaiſant Converſation had not a little allay'd the bitterneſs of her Diſcontent; and that ſhe wou'd not have conſented to his going from Sion-hill, but that ſhe hoped her ſtay there wou'd not be very long. He anſwer'd all her obli⯑ging Expreſſions only with a reſpectful Silence, more intelligible to the Earl than to her: who now judging it too hazardous to leave his Brother behind him with the Counteſs, they went toge⯑ther to London; this being the firſt time, after the Coming of the Counteſs thither, the Earl ſhew'd any Inclination of going to Town.

The Italian Picture-drawer, gain'd by the preſ⯑ſing Inſtances of the Marqueſs of Montague, had painted for him a Copy of my Lady Devonſhire's Picture, after the Original he had drawn at Sion-hill. An indifferent Satisfaction to a Perſon ſo much in Love as he was; but he conſider'd it as the only thing that might be permitted him, without being injurious to his Brother. As for the Painter, he found the Country ſo dull, that he cou'd not reſolve to ſtay there for any long time; but ſoon fell in Love with a young Wo⯑man, who was a great Artiſt in Enamelling. How⯑ever, he took effectual care to conceal every thing that paſs'd at Sion-hill. Notwithſtanding theſe Precautions, the Earl of Devonſhire, having got Intelligence how Matters ſtood there, engag'd the young Female Painter in his Intereſt. The Pro⯑ſpect ſhe had to make her Fortune at once, got the better of her Paſſion for the Italian Painter; be⯑ſides ſhe conſider'd, that by diſcovering the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire, ſhe ſhou'd not ſacrifice her Lo⯑ver; and if the worſt came to the worſt, ſhe did not much fear the Conſequences; She being re⯑ſolved, ſo ſoon as ſhe had got the Mony, to go into Italy, and to ſettle there. 'Twas upon theſe [67] Conſiderations that ſhe engag'd to uſe all her En⯑deavours to find out the Counteſs; and her Lo⯑ver being much more dextrous in his Hands than in his Head, ſhe told him ſhe wou'd not believe he had been ſo long at Sion-hill, that he had made this Story, only to ſerve for a Pretence to get a⯑broad from her, and to ſettle his Love in another place: and finding her Lover touch'd with theſe Reproa [...]hes, ſhe gave him to underſtand, That ſhe ſhould not ceaſe to be jealous till he had fully ju⯑ſtify'd himſelf. The poor Picture-drawer over⯑come by Paſſion, reveals his Maſter's Secret. The Earl of Warwick (ſaid he) has ſent me thither, to draw the Picture of a young Lady I know not, and whom he is ſo careful to conceal from my Know⯑ledge, that ſhe never appears but in Man's Ap⯑parel; I have painted her in an African Dreſs, I drew her in his preſence, for he would not ſtir from us all the while; but in ſpite of all his Pre⯑cautions, I have drawn a Copy of it for the Mar⯑queſs of Montague beſides, dreſs'd like a Woman, which I will ſhew you: for I muſt confeſs ſhe ap⯑pears more amiable in a Woman's Dreſs, than un⯑der her Diſguiſe. The young Woman charm'd with the Counteſs's Picture, conjur'd the Picture-drawer to lend it her, becauſe ſhe wou'd take a Copy of it in Enamel-work; and he, who knew nothing of her Deſign, was willing enough to let her have it: and thus the Earl of Devonſhire was let into a Myſtery, which they had taken ſo much care to conceal from him, but whereof he had entertain'd ſome time before a ſhrewd Suſpicion.

'Tis eaſy to be imagin'd he loſt not one mo⯑ment to take effectual Meaſures, to ſnatch his Wife out of the Earl of Warwick's hands; being ſeconded by the Chevalier de Hereford, both as his Friend and Kinſman, and a deſpis'd Lover: They got together all their Friends, and in ſpite [68] of all the Earl of Warwick's Grandeur, and be⯑ing the King's Favourite, reſolv'd to take ſuch a publick Satisfaction, as ſhould appear ſuitable to the Affront put upon them. What injurious Suſpi⯑cion did they not entertain againſt the Counteſs's Reputation! 'Tis true in all appearance they had ſufficient Reaſon for it, beſides that, in the utmoſt tranſport of their Fury, they cou'd have been ſorry to find her Innocent. Sion hill is a very fine Seat, without any manner of Defence, ad⯑apted only to Pleaſure, as having the Conveni⯑ency of beautiful Walks, good Hunting, and com⯑modious Fiſhing; ſo that they needed no vaſt Prepartions to carry away the Counteſs, eſpeci⯑ally at a time when ſhe thought her ſelf in abſo⯑lute Security; her coming thither being, as ſhe thought, kept ſecure. They were well inform'd that her Apartment look'd into a Terras-walk, and that they needed only to beat out a few Win⯑dows, to get into it with eaſe. They knew very well that the Earl of Warwick (whoſe Courage might have check'd their Deſign) was not to be there that Night: ſo they got into the Garden without the leaſt noiſe, and dividing themſelves into ſeveral ſmall Parties, upon a Signal given, all met about the Counteſs's Lodging Room, ſo that it was impoſſible ſhe ſhou'd eſcape their hands. The Buſineſs was ſoon over; for they having pitch'd upon that time of the Night when the whole Family was aſleep, they ſoon got into the Room; where finding ſome-body in Bed, put a Handkerchief into her Mouth, ſoon put her into a Horſe Litter; which being narrowly watch'd by the Earl of Devonſhire, and the Chevalier de Hereford, they rid on by the ſides of it; attended by their Friends, conducted it to a Country Seat of the Earl's, in the Road to Windſor, being no great diſtance from Sion-hill. No ſooner were [69] they come thither, and all the Doors order'd to be ſhut carefully, than the Earl of Devonſhire, who had been very ſilent all this while, began to break out into moſt dreadful Reproaches, whilſt the poor Captive was brought out of the Litter; but inſtead of ſeeing the Fair Counteſs come out all in Tears, enough as was ſuppos'd to move all the Beholders to Compaſſion, they found a young, but very ugly ill ſhap'd Lad, half dead with fear. Never was a more ſurprizing Metamorphoſis ſeen for many Ages; ſo they went abroad again to hunt out the poor Counteſs, and the Earl of De⯑vonſhire cou'd ſcarce forbear to ſhew his Reſent⯑ment againſt him, whom he had miſtaken for his Lady.

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

In the mean while, the Steward and the other Domeſticks belonging [...]g to the Earl of Warwick's Family at Sion Houſe no ſooner heard the noiſe on [70] the Terras, but they ran thither, and found every thing in great diſorder, the Windows broken, the Doors beaten to pieces, and all the rich Moveables of the Room deſtroy'd; and not able to gueſs at the meaning thereof, took Horſe immediately, to notify what had happened to the E. of Warwick. He was then aſleep, but ſo ſoon as he could be ſpoken with, they told him what had paſs'd laſt night at Sion hill. Alas! who is able to expreſs his Confuſion at this News! Such was his Di⯑ſtraction, that he miſtook the Lad inſtead of the Counteſs, not doubting in the leaſt it was ſhe; and without giving himſelf to ask any further Queſtions, ſent for the Marqueſs of Montague. When he ſaw him, he ran and embraced him, O! dear Brother, ſaid he, let us die, let us die; I could not keep that Treaſure wherewith Fortune had en⯑truſted me; and ſo related to him the whole mat⯑ter. The Marqueſs no leſs diſcompos'd than him⯑ſelf, was not in a condition to afford him the leaſt Conſolation, ſo they mutually condol'd this Loſs, and then reſolv'd to go ſtraitways to Sion hill. Never was a ſmall Journey attended with more grievous Symptoms of Melancholy. The Earl did nothing but contrive the moſt violent Reſo⯑lutions that cou'd be thought of, againſt the E. of Devonſhire; tho' to look upon the thing with an unbyaſs'd Eye, 'twas certain he had the leaſt oc⯑caſion of Complaint; but being the King's Favou⯑rite, 'twas grown into a Cuſtom with him to think he cou'd not be in the wrong. When they came in ſight of Sion-hill, this ſeem'd to revive and add new ſtrength to his Fury: See here, ſaid he, the faithleſs Houſe, which cou'd not keep for me what I lov'd ſo tenderly. I will ſet it on fire, I will not leave one Stone upon another; and I will proportion my Vengeance to my Deſpair. The Marqueſs told him. He would aſſiſt him with [71] the utmoſt Ardour; tho' one wou'd have thought it ſhou'd have been leſs terrible to him to ſee his Miſtreſs with her Husband, than with a Rival who adored her, and whoſe Merit was ſo much ſuperior to his.

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

My Lady Devonſhire being not as yet come to her ſelf again, the Earl threw water in her Face, calling her by her Name, holding her upright under her Arms, and giving her all the aſſiſtance that poſſibly he could; ſhe was no ſooner reco⯑vered [72] a little, but the firſt Object ſhe caſt her eyes upon was the Earl, whom ſhe believed to be drown'd. Oh! my Lord, ſaid ſhe, what a fright have you put me in! How glad I am to ſee you! But Madam, ſaid he, what unexpected good fortune brought you hither, when I thought you to be faln into the hands of the Earl of Devonſhire? And how did you make your eſcape? The Coun⯑teſs appear'd much ſurprized and diſcompoſed, at what might have happened in her Abſence. She related to the Earl by what Accident ſhe had been prevented from coming to Sion-hill that Night, ſo that the Earl now remembred it muſt be his Steward's Son, whom they had carry'd off in lieu of the Counteſs, he being uſed to ſleep conſtantly in the Lower Room, to take the bet⯑ter care of its precious Furniture. However, the Earl and the Counteſs were both convinced that their Secret had taken vent, that the Earl of De⯑vonſhire was every where in ſearch for her, and that ſhe was likely to meet but with a ſlender Entertainment at his hands.

MEMOIRS OF THE Earl of WARWICK:
PART III.

THE Earl of Warwick and the Counteſs of Devonſhire were conſidering betwixt them⯑ſelves what an Iſſue was likely to attend ſo vio⯑lent a Beginning; and he having taken a reſo⯑lution to carry her to his fine Seat at Chelſea; ‘'Nobody in the world ſhall know the leaſt thing of it, ſaid he to her: If you come there, re⯑ply'd ſhe, there needs no more to make it known. No, no, Madam, I put the greateſt hardſhips in the world upon my ſelf to ſecure you againſt your Enemies. I am too ſenſible of the pain the very apprehenſion of your be⯑ing ſeized occaſioned in me, not to take all poſſible precautions againſt ſuch a danger ano⯑ther time, which would infallibly coſt me my Life. Were you ſenſible of my Sufferings up⯑on that account, you would have all the rea⯑ſon in the world to be convinced that there [74] was never a Paſſion ſo perfect as mine.'’ She be⯑ing a Lady of uncommon Prudence, did not think fit to return a ſuitable Anſwer; on the contrary, being vex'd he had been an eye wit⯑neſs of her falling into a Swoon, ſhe imputed the cauſe thereof before him, rather to her ſurprize than her tenderneſs; for ſhe could have wiſh'd heartily to conceal from him her Inclinations, and how amiable he appear'd in her eyes. After ſome further Converſation they agreed to ſeparate; the Earl was ſet aſhore, but the Counteſs ſtay'd in the Boat to go to Chelſea by Water, which tho' not the ſhorteſt, yet was thought the ſafeſt way. The Earl taking his leave of her with as much tenderneſs as if it had been for all his Life-time, went on ſtraight to Sion-hill, where he met with his Brother, to their mutual ſatisfaction; being glad he had eſcaped a danger, which they expected would have pro⯑ved fatal to him. Being wet to the Skin, he changed his Clothes, and took a few hours re⯑poſe.

In the mean time the Marqueſs was got into the Earl's Cloſet, there to afford full liberty to his thoughts. ‘'How hard is my Fate! ſaid he, I am become a Rival to a Brother, who has been always very dear to me; I ſtill tremble at the fear I was in of loſing him; and after all this, 'tis he that proves the Cauſe of all the misfortunes of my Life.'’ The Earl hap⯑pening to come in, and finding him in this me⯑lancholy condition; told him, ‘'Don't complain alone, Dear Brother, I ſuffer as much as any man can do, becauſe I have not reſolution e⯑nough to reſign to you that ſlender ſhare of advantage I have above you in the fair Coun⯑teſs; but believe me, all my efforts are fruit⯑leſs. Oh! my Lord, reply'd the Earl, what [75] is it you tell me? Is it poſſible you ſhould have ſo much tenderneſs for me? The very intenti⯑on of breaking your Chains is an unpardonable Crime in you in reſpect to the Counteſs. If it is my Fate, to wear them as well as your ſelf, let not my misfortunes interrupt you Pleaſures. I am ſenſible I ſhall pay for it with my Life; but is it not reaſonable I ſhould do ſo, ſince I have been ſo imprudent as to ſtay with her, ima⯑gining I could be proof againſt falling in Love with her? I knew unto what a condition you had been reduced, and yet was ſo fool hardy as not to fear the ſame in my ſelf. You have not had ſufficient leiſure, anſwered the Earl, to reflect ſeriouſly upon the whole matter: It ſeem'd to me, as if her very firſt Glances did pierce your Heart; and if I took not immedi⯑ate notice of it, it was becauſe I believed no body could ſee her without being ſtruck with Admiration.'’ The Marqueſs told him with a deep ſigh: He durſt not ask whither ſhe was gone; becauſe notwithſtanding all his reſoluti⯑on to ſhun her, he ſhould certainly endeavour to ſee her. ‘'If this is the caſe, ſaid the Earl of Warwick, I will not intruſt you with the Se⯑cret. Alas! Brother, added he, is it poſſible, Love ſhould check the Career of our entire Friendſhip? What prejudice have you concei⯑ved againſt me, my Lord? reply'd the Mar⯑queſs: Am I not ſufficiently afflicted? don't add to my Pain.'’ So they run with open arms, and embracing one another moſt tenderly: ‘'Let us Love, let us Love, cry'd they; Let nothing in the world change our mutual tender⯑neſs.'’

It was not long before the Rumour of the Earl of Warwick being Drown'd was ſpread all over London; and the News thereof was, as it hap⯑pens [76] commonly in ſuch like caſes, related with ſuch Circumſtances as every one thought moſt ſuitable to his opinion; the King himſelf was deceived by ſo many appearances of Truth, that Madam Gray, with whom he happened to be at that time, had the Mortification of ſeeing him give all the Demonſtrations that poſſibly could be of an exceſſive Grief. He went inſtant⯑ly to Sion-hill, and underſtood upon the Road what had happened there; how the Earl of De⯑vonſhire thinking to find his Lady there, had beaten down the Doors and Windows, and car⯑ry'd off the Steward's Son.

The Earl of Warwick in his return to London, met the King upon the Road, who by this giving him ſuch ſenſible proofs of his Affection, he re⯑ceived them with all poſſible acknowledgment, tho' this was not the firſt time he had known the effects of this Monarch's Goodneſs. The King having told him a thouſand obliging things con⯑cerning the trouble he had been in upon his ac⯑count, made him come into his Coach, and ask'd him, Whether it were actually true that the Counteſs of Devonſhire had ſought for Refuge at Sion hill? The Earl was put to the greateſt Nonplus that could be. Had it been to the King only he was to impart the Secret of the Counteſs, he would not have heſitated long in the matter, eſpecally ſince the King d [...] ⯑red an ingenuous Confeſſion; but knowing that it would ſoon come to Madam Gray's Ears, he was too ſenſible it could not be put into the hands of a worſe perſon, who would improve it to do her miſchief. Upon this Conſideration he told the King ſmiling, That he begg'd he would put him⯑ſelf in his place; and then tell him, whether he wou'd reveal a Secret of a Lady, who had put her whole Confidence in him? That it was cer⯑tain [77] the Earl of Devonſhire had been deceived by ſome falſe Intelligence; but that if ſuch a thing ſhould happen, that the Counteſs ſhould have ſo much Confidence in him, as to come to his Houſe, he would rather die upon the ſpot, than diſcover it. The King found it would be in vain to ask any more Queſtions, but was not a little diſſatisfy'd that his Favourite, unto whom he bore ſo great an Affection, ſhould re⯑fuſe to lay open his heart to him.

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

The noiſe of what had happened at Sion-hill being already ſpead over the Town, and theſe two having not been ſeen together in one place for ſome time paſt, every one was more intent upon them than the Play, wherein they ſoon acted a conſiderable Part. For no ſooner was the firſt Act over, but the Earl of Devonſhire ad⯑vancing with a fierce Countenance towards the Earl of Warwick, ſtruck him with his Glove in the Face: 'Tis eaſie to gueſs whether the Earl, who was as fierce as he was brave, reſented ſuch an affront; He drew his Sword, as the Earl of Devonſhire had done before, and ſo they made the Stage ſerve them inſtead of a field of Battel, till thoſe that were there throwing themſelves betwixt them, patted them at laſt, in ſpite of [78] all their endeavours to decide the Quarrel upon the ſpot. They went away, but with ſuch furi⯑ous Looks, as ſufficiently ſhew'd they were re⯑ſolved to fulfil their Revenge; and the time and place of the Duel being mutually agreed on, they got out of the Court, for fear the King, to prevent the Combat, ſhould put them under Confinement. The King actually gave Orders to ſhut up all the Gates, and to go in ſearch for them in all places where probably they might be found; ſhewing himſelf extreamly uneaſie on account of this Quarrel, which was not likely to be ended without a fatal Cataſtrophe. Madam Gray, who knew the Earl of Devonſhire to be one of the braveſt Men in the World, and con⯑ſequently moſt proper to rid her of an Enemy, told the King he ought not to prevent their fighting together; that according to all outward appearance the Earl of Warwick was Inſtru⯑mental in concealing the Counteſs, a thing not eaſie to be digeſted by an Husband; that on the other hand, the Earl of Warwick having received ſo ſignal an Affront, could not avoid taking ſa⯑faction for it. ‘'I underſtand you, Madam, re⯑ply'd the King with much impatience, you are overjoy'd to ſee your own Quarrel revenged, and provided the Earl of Warwick have his Throat cut, you will eaſily be prevail'd upon to make his Funeral Oration. But I, who look upon this matter with quite another eye than you do, am ſenſible I muſt be a loſer let the Event be what it will: If the Earl of Warwick is kill'd I ſhall be inconſolable; if the Earl of Devonſhire comes to the worſt, I loſe a Man of Merit; ſo I am reſolved to compoſe the difference, let it coſt what it will.'’

In the mean time the two Earls had appointed the Place of their meeting at Barn-Elms, a moſt [79] delicious Walk upon the River Thames, about ſix Miles from London. Each brought his Second along with him; viz. the Earl of Warwick the Marqueſs of Montague, and the Earl of Devon⯑ſhire, the Chevalier de Hereford; Theſe two enga⯑ged one another not as Seconds uſually do, out of Complaiſance to their Friends, but a ſecret averſion, whereof they knew not the cauſe made them fight moſt furiouſly: In ſhort, they were Rivals, and ſo the Combat did not end till with the Death of the Chevalier de Hereford, and the Marqueſs being dangerouſly wounded fell for dead upon the Ground. The Earls of Warwick and Devonſhire fought like two Lions, till the laſt was run through and kill'd, and the firſt re⯑ceived a Wound in the Arm; this was the Con⯑cluſion of this fatal Combat.

The Earl of Warwick touch'd to the heart to ſee the Marqueſs Montague ſo dangerouſly wounded, and imagining that his Paſſion for the Counteſs, and the little hopes he had of being beloved had made him careleſs of his Life, began to blame himſelf for having choſen him his Se⯑cond. ‘'Alas! ſaid he, 'tis I that have drawn my Brother into a Quarrel, which I ought to have maintain'd alone. Was not I very unfortunate when I left him at Sion-hill with the Counteſs? I knew the force of her Charms was irreſiſti⯑ble; was it not an imprudent action in me to leave him in ſo dangerous a place? I muſt die, continued he, if he dies; and if he out lives it, I ought to reſign to him what he loves, be⯑ing more worthy of her than my ſelf.'’ All this while he did not neglect to give all poſſible aſ⯑ſiſtance to the Marqueſs, when he found abun⯑dance of Blood trickle down his Arm, from a Wound he had not perceived by reaſon of the heat of the Combat. But finding that there was [80] no long ſtaying for them in this place, he got in⯑to a Boat with his Brother upon the Thames, and ſo to London, where he kept him concealed, till he knew how this matter would be reliſh'd by the King; this done, he himſelf went alone pri⯑vately to Chelſea, where he entred his Houſe through a Back door of the Garden, whereof he had the Key.

Having loſt abundance of Blood, he look'd out for a place where to take a little reſt; and ma⯑king up towards an Arbor, which was not as yet covered with Green, becauſe it was early in the Spring, he eſpy'd a Woman there, and approach⯑ing gently, found her to be the Counteſs of De⯑vonſhire. The ſight of her caus'd ſuch an Emo⯑tion in him, as is eaſie to be gueſs'd at; for the Part he was to act was of ſuch a nature, that was to decide of ſo many things that he did not know how to ſpeak, nor how to keep ſilence! At laſt the ſame inclination that naturally enga⯑ges us to follow what we love, got the Aſcen⯑dant over all other Conſiderations, due to the Widow of the Earl of Devonſhire. He drew near with a fearful Look, and at once throwing him⯑ſelf at her feet, preſented his Sword to her: If you believe I deſerve your Anger, Madam, ſaid he, puniſh me; this is the ſame Sword which has revenged you upon the Earl of Devonſhire: He is no more among the Living. Will you pierce a Heart that adores you? Whilſt he was thus addreſſing himſelf to the Counteſs, ſhe ſtood amazed, not knowing to what all this tended, till ſhe under⯑ſtood that the Man who was the moſt dear to her in the World had kill'd her Husband. She ſet forth a moſt lamentable cry, and groan'd as if ſhe were giving up the Ghoſt; her eyes open, and her body without motion and ſpeech, as if ſhe had been turn'd into ſtone. The Earl who knew [81] too well the Agony of her Soul, durſt not ſay one word to her; but ſuch was the Emotion of his Spirits, as made the blood run afreſh from his Wound down his Arm upon the Ground: I am a going to die, Madam, ſaid he; if you would have it ſo, I will make no Complaints againſt my Deſti⯑ny. Yes, cruel Man, ſaid ſhe, I deſire to ſee the end of your Life, I owe it as a Sacrifice to the me⯑mory of the Earl of Devonſhire, you are his Mur⯑therer; alas! why did you not rather commit this Murther upon me! I would pardon you my Death, but 'tis not in my power to forgive you his. Every thing obliges me to hate you; I muſt declare an implacable war againſt you, and omit nothing to take revenge of you. One ſtroke more, ſaid he to her, you need not look out for any other Arms but your Averſion. You ſee unto what a con⯑dition I am reduced; I am only afraid my Blood will not run faſt enough to ſatisfie your an⯑ger, pray make uſe of my Sword, and don't re⯑fuſe me this melancholy ſatisfaction of dying by your hands. Oh! is it in my power? Barbarous Man, cry'd ſhe, as if you were ignorant of that fatal Aſcendent you have got over my heart! Alas! you are only too ſenſible of it; you inſult over me in that you dare come to preſent your ſelf before me, and ſtill more, when you deſire your Death at my hands. Let me lament at my own lei⯑ſure the exceſs of my misfortunes. This laſt Cata⯑ſtrophe has caſt me into an unconceivable Deſpair; for I ſee in your perſon the Enemy of my Husband, of my Children, and of my Family, and neverthe⯑leſs ſuffer you in my preſence, and don't find with⯑in my ſelf thoſe motions of that implacable hatred I ought to bear you. Puniſh me, Madam, I am at your feet ready to ſubmit to any thing, reply'd the Earl with a low and feeble voice, and then his ſtrength failing, he lay ſtretch'd out upon the [82] Ground, covered all over with Blood, Speech⯑leſs, and in a cold Sweat.

The ſurprize this Accident cauſed in the fair Counteſs, is ſcarce to be conceived: At that very inſtant, leaving her Revenge to the Law, and the King's diſpoſal; and looking upon it as a baſe Action to fight againſt a vanquiſh'd Enemy, all her care was bent upon his Relief. Berincour, who had got notice of his Maſter's arrival, and who was in ſearch after him, happened to come that way at that very juncture of time; and ſee⯑ing him in Company with the Counteſs, was going back out of Reſpect. She call'd him to her, and ſhewing the Earl, whoſe Head ſhe held with her Hands, ſaid, Come to our aſſiſtance, we are both a going to die. Berincour frighted to the heart to ſee his Maſter in ſuch a Condition, begg'd the Counteſs to aſſiſt him, and then bound up the Wound in his Arm ſo dextrouſly, that the Blood was ſtop'd immediately: He then went to fetch ſome Water, which he ſprinkled into his Face; and this, with certain Cordial Drops he gave him, immediately brought him to himſelf out of the Swoon, that had been occaſion'd by the loſs of Blood and Spirits, and the Emotion he felt at the Reproaches of the Counteſs of Devonſhire. Overjoy'd to ſee her ſo near him; Alas! Madam, ſaid he, Is it you? Am I worthy of your Pity? wou'd you have me live? or do you reſerve me with an intention to make me a more publick Example of your Re⯑venge? She anſwer'd not a word, but cry'd with⯑out intermiſſion. The Earl of Warwick went ſlowly to the Houſe, ſupported by Berincour: But the Counteſs remain'd in the Arbour, to a⯑bandon herſelf to her Grief, which being ſome⯑what check'd by the Earl's Preſence, when ſhe now ſaw herſelf alone, Good God! what melan⯑choly [83] Reflexions did not ſhe make upon the od⯑neſs of her Deſtiny! She was Miſtreſs of too great a ſhare of Senſe, not to foreſee the Conſe⯑quences of ſo tragical an Accident; how the blame of the Earl of Devonſhire's Death was to be laid at her Door, ſince at the ſame time ſhe lay concealed at the Earl o. Warwick's: What other interpretation can this admit of? ſaid ſhe, and who will be able to diſcern my Innocence, in⯑volved in ſo many dark Ridles? She conſidered herſelf like a Woman baniſh'd the World, a⯑bandon'd by her Relations and Friends. Where ſhould ſhe ſeek for Refuge now? How be able to appear at Court? How to live a Vagabond⯑life, and lie under a ſuſpicion of a Love Intrigue? Her Grief prevail'd ſo far over Spirits, that ſhe was ready to drop down dead, when Berin⯑cour coming very ſeaſonably to her Relief, con⯑jured her to give a Viſit to his Maſter in his Chamber: I will never ſee him more, ſaid ſhe all in Tears, he has robb'd me of my Reputation, he has diſturb'd the Repoſe of my Life, I am re⯑ſolved to leave this place, let the Event be what it will. Had it been upon another Occaſion, Berin⯑cour would have been much ſurprized at theſe Expreſſions; but knowing what juſt cauſe ſhe had to be thus afflicted, he did all that lay in his Power to give her ſome Conſolation: At the ſame time he made ſuch preſſing Inſtances to en⯑gage her to ſee the Earl, to conſult about their Affairs, repreſenting to her, that elſe he wou'd certainly come out to ſee her, that at laſt ſhe conſented to his Requrſt

Madam, ſaid the Earl to her, I am too cauti⯑ous in every thing relating to you, to ſuffer with Patience you ſhould he charged of having too much indulgence for me; I would willingly pleaſe you, 'tis the only Deſire and Buſineſs of my Life, [84] 'tis the only happineſs I know of; but rather than this Happineſs, the greateſt of all others to me, ſhould fall to my Lot at the expence of your Ho⯑nour, I ſhou'd have Reſolution enough to reſign it. Judge by this, whether I make ſerious Reflexions upon what courſe you ought to take upon this Oc⯑caſion: Nay, I dare go farther, and adviſe you to go immediately to throw yourſelf at the King's feet, and demand my Head for having fought your Husband and kill'd him, contrary to the Laws of the Land, and without his Majeſties Permiſſion. But conſidering that the Earl and Counteſs of Angleſey may not be ſo ſoon reconciled to you, and that your Husband's Executors out of Prejudice taken againſt you, may be backwards in ſupplying you with what is neceſſary to make your appear⯑ance at Court, I deſire you to accept of theſe Jewels, which being of a conſiderable value, will enable you to proſecute me to Death.

Are theſe the Arms you put into my Hands wherewith to fight you? O! the moſt generous Enemy that ever was, or ever will be, cry'd the Counteſs, How! wou'd you have me make uſe of your Obligations to Perſecute you, and to declare myſelf your Enemy, when you heap Favours upon me? Leave me, my Lord, to my own entire li⯑berty to hate you: The Road you cut out to come to my Heart, is too offenſive to me, I deſire no⯑thing of yours, becauſe I would not be charged with Ingratitude, when I muſt act againſt you. The Earl employ'd all his Rhetorick to perſuade her, but in vain; ſhe had a Soul too noble to burthen herſelf with ſuch an Obligation. After having ſaid many things more, or rather all what the nature of ſo odd an Adventure would admit of: How can I, added ſhe, ask the King to give me Satisfaction proportionable to the Evil you have done me, when I owe you already ſuch ſignal Obli⯑gations? [85] And after all, tho' the World is not ac⯑quainted with the true reaſon thereof, every body has taken ſuch a prejudice againſt me already, that they will believe the whole to be only a Droll. No matter for that, Madam, reply'd the Earl, it ought to be your Care to have nothing to reproach to yourſelf; let Time and Chance take care for the reſt. Is it poſſible, ſaid ſhe, you can imagine I ſhould for the future be your moſt cruel Enemy? And is it poſſible, Madam, ſaid he, you ſhould be ſo? I have always preſero'd ſuch pure and re⯑ſpectful Sentiments for you, I have had ſo ſlender a ſhare in that unfortunate Accident, which ren⯑ders you inconſolable: I received ſo groſs an Af⯑front from the Earl of Devonſhire before I ſo much as thought of Revenge, that if you will exa⯑mine my whole Conduct, you will agree with me, that I deſerve only Compaſſion.

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

Scarce was the Duel betwixt the Earls of De⯑vonſhire and Warwick over, but the diſmal News thereof came to the King's Ears, and the whole Court. Every body run to Barn-Elms, ſome out of Friendſhip, others out of Curioſity; but no⯑thing was to be ſeen there, the dead Bodies were removed, and the living gone. The King was extreamly uneaſie at this Accident, not knowing, as yet, the Event, or on which ſide the [86] Scale had turn'd; but was ſenſible it muſt needs fall very hard upon the Earl of Warwick and the Counteſs of Devonſhire, for whom he ſtill re⯑tain'd ſome favourable Inclinations, notwithſtand⯑ing his former Grudge, to ſee himſelf ſo indif⯑ferently treated by her.

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

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

The Counteſs of Devonſhire, upon her arrival in London, went to her Nurſes, the only place where ſhe could hope for a kind reception. What a ſtrange turn of Fortune? for the hand⯑ſomeſt Lady in the Kingdom, born to ſo great an Eſtate, and related to all the Great Men of the Court: What an odd Change, I ſay, for a Lady of her Age, who had ſacrifie'd her Inclination to her Vertue, and who had nothing that was mate⯑rial to reproach her ſelf with! 'Tis true, her Innocence was her only Comfort; and had ſhe been otherwiſe, her Guilt would have much in⯑creaſed her Misfortunes. She writ Letters to all her Family, ſhe ſpoke to the Earl's Executors to [87] act with her in concert, to proſecute the Earl of Warwick: But theſe were ſo far from doing ſo, that they treated her very harſhly; and told her, they would bring an Indictment againſt her, and that ſhe had beſt to look to herſelf, ſince ſhe would find it one of the hardeſt peices of work ſhe had ever met with in all her Life. A recep⯑tion ſo different from what ſhe had promiſed to herſelf, both ſurprized and afflicted her to the higheſt degree: She then endeavoured a Recon⯑ciliation with the Earl and Counteſs of Angleſey; and their Affection for their Daughter was not ſo far extinguiſh'd, but that it might have been re-kindled again, had the good effects thereof not been prevented by thoſe that did her a thou⯑ſand ill Offices with them.

All theſe Misfortunes were not able to ſubdue her Courage: She had taken a Reſolution (the moſt difficult of all) to demand Juſtice againſt the Earl of Warwick; and all the Obſtacles ſhe met in her way, was not comparable to that. She threw herſelf at the King's Feet, in her Widows Robes, and tho' her Eyes were drown⯑ed in Tears, they had not loſt their force. The King thought her now a thouſand times more handſome than when ſhe firſt made him her Conqueſt, and the Earl of Warwick appear'd a thouſand times more, guilty to him, to have known how to get ſo far the Aſcendant over ſo charming a Perſon, which had made him kill the Earl of Devonſhire. He promiſed the Counteſs to treat her Enemy according to the utmoſt rigour of the Law, being very much pleaſed to have an op⯑portunity of tormenting her in a way ſhe durſt not complain of; for whatever precaution ſhe took not to betray her Sentiments by her Looks, the young Monarch ſoon diſcovered her uneaſineſs: Thus they revenged themſelves upon one another, [88] the King by Threatning the Perſon beloved by the Counteſs, and ſhe in diſcovering her favour⯑able Inclinations for his Rival.

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

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

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

[90] This fair Widow as ſoon as ſhe underſtood the King's refuſal to let her go into a Nunnery, was contriving a place of Retirement, where ſhe might remain unknown to all the World: She ſtood in need of the Earl of Warwick's aſſiſtance, without which ſhe found it would be very difficult for her to compaſs her Deſigns. He cauſed to be purchaſed a Houſe, privately, which made but a ſlender appearance on the out ſide; but ſo mag⯑nificently adorn'd within, that the Palace of Pſyche, built by Love itſelf, could not be more pleaſant or more agreeable. The Counteſs was very willing to accept of this Retirement, pr [...]i⯑ded the Earl of Warwick wou'd not come there to ſee her; being perſuaded, that ſhe could not, without Guilt, continue a ſtrict Correſpondence with a Man who had kill'd her Husband: And the Earl fearing, leſt ſhe ſhou'd be diſcovered in her Lodgings, unleſs ſhe went thither with all poſſible ſpeed, promiſed to do every thing ſhe deſired. The Earl of Warwick ſent Berincour to attend her at her new Houſe, whilſt he ſtay'd at London with the Marqueſs of Montague. He had been in no ſmall danger from his Enemies, could the King have been prevail'd upon to leave him to their Mercy; but the Friendſhip he bore him put a ſtop to their Deſigns; ſo that tho' they without intermiſſion reiterated their Inſtan⯑ces for the King to leave him to the ordinary courſe of the Law, he always found means to put them off by ambiguous Anſwers; till they were convinced that all their Sollicitations were likely to be in vain. The Counteſs on the other hand, now began to flatter herſelf, that living in this place of Retirement, without the leaſt noiſe or luſtre, ſhe wou'd ſoon be forgot by all the World; when the Earl of Pembroke, now deep⯑er in Love with her than ever he had been be⯑fore, [91] found out her Houſe, and left no ſtone un⯑turn'd, to get admittance there: 'Tis true, this was no caſie task to be compaſs'd; but in Eng⯑land, as in moſt other Countries, there are few things which may not be purchaſed by Money.

The Earl found means to engage one of the Counteſs's Waiting women into his Intereſt; ſhe opened to him a little Back gate, by which he entred into a moſt curious Flower-garden, where her Miſtreſs uſed to walk every Night. He lay concealed betwixt a Hedge of Trees, when he ſaw her coming along negligently dreſs'd in Mourning, and more beautiful than the Mother of Love her ſelf: The ſight of her put him in⯑to an unſpeakable confuſion; for if he loved her beyond all the World, he reſpected her no leſs, and feared to diſoblige her, if he accoſted her. She will doubtleſs, ſays he, be offended at the liberty I take: All the imprecations I can make will not clear me from the ſuſpicion ſhe has conceived of my being one of the moſt intimate Friends of Madam Gray. Nay perhaps ſhe may fancy I am in Love with her; but ſhe will ſcarce think it worth her while to reflect thus far, the happy Earl of Warwick takes up all her thoughts, and ſhe little concerns her ſelf about me. The Coun⯑teſs had already taken ſeveral Turns in the Gar⯑den, before he durſt venture to come out from behind the Hedge, but at laſt he did, throwing himſelf immediately at her feet. She frightned to the heart, run away, and the Earl thinking ſhe knew him, and that what ſhe did was out of an averſion to him, reſolved to make her ſenſible of the Torments he ſuffered for her: No, Madam, ſaid he, keeping her back, No, I don't come here to deplore at your feet theſe unconceivable Evils you make me ſuffer, I come here to load you with [92] reproaches, as being the moſt cruel of all Women living. I come, I ſay, to complain of that unjuſt Preference you give to the Earl of Warwick, to the Man who has kill'd your Husband, to him, who is the Enemy of your Family; 'tis him you have choſen your Confident, your Protector, and the deareſt of your Friends, whilſt I lead a lingring unfortunate Life, which it is impoſſile for me to hold without pleaſing you, and which I intend to ſacrifice to you, if you don't think it worthy your care: There is ſo little reaſon in what you ſay, reply'd the Counteſs, moved at his Reproaches, that a Man muſt be very preſumptuous to come to a place where I will be ſeen by no body to upbraid me with my misfortunes; once for all, my Lord, I forbid you to come here any more.

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

How! is it you my Lord! cry'd the Earl of War⯑wick, is it poſſible your Curioſity ſhould lead you ſo far beyond its bounds, as to forget what is ow⯑ing to a perſon of that Quality and Merit as my Lady Devonſhire is? And you my Lord, your ſelf, reply'd the Earl fiercely, don't you ſet me a good Example? Have not I as much zeal and reſpect for her, as you? have I not an extream ambition to ſerve her? And, in a word, have I been acceſ⯑ſary to her misfortune? All this ſignifies nothing, anſwered the Earl of Warwick briskly, there is no compariſon betwixt your Paſſion and mine; but this is not a place fit to diſpute this matter in. The Earl of Warwick carrying his Arm ſtill in a Scarf, [93] Scarf, the Earl of Pembroke was ready to burſt [...] madneſs, becauſe he had for a conſiderable [...]me paſt been very deſirous to fight him, and whilſt they were diſcourſing together, the Coun⯑ [...]eſs took this opportunity of abſenting her ſelf, [...]eing vex'd to the Soul to ſee her ſelf diſcover⯑ [...]d in her Retirement; this being her chief Con⯑ſolation at that time to hope to remain conceal'd from all the world.

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

The Earl was little concern'd thereat, as on the other hand it proved ſome ſatisfaction to the Counteſs: I ſhall now, ſaid ſhe, be freed from the hazard of receiving his Viſits, which muſt have always been attended with a thouſand troubleſome Conſequences. A long Abſence is ſometimes requiſite to perform a Cure. But after ſome further refle⯑ctions, Dare I, added ſhe, flatter my ſelf with the enjoyment of any Tranquility? Have not I [94] found by experience, that ever ſince that fatal Day I firſt ſaw the Earl, it has not been in my pow⯑er to forget him? what attempts have I not carry'd on againſt my own heart? I can't upbraid my ſelf with having been too indulgent to him; Would it pleaſe Heaven, the world was as well convin⯑ced of the uprightneſs of my Sentiments as I am. Being fully reſolved to lead a reſerved life, the King's endeavours to ſee her proved all in vain; ſhe was not for furniſhing new matter of Diſcourſe upon her own account, and therefore rejected all his offers with as much reſolution as reſpect. The King laid the fault thereof upon the Earl of Warwick. How far ſhe is prepoſſeſs'd in his behalf, ſaid he, ſpeaking of her, and how he tries my patience to the utmoſt, to dare to love where I love! Theſe Reflections began by degrees to make him raſe out of his Memory the Remembrance of the Services and the Ac⯑knowledgments he ow'd to the Earl; he forgot it was he who had put the Crown on his head; or if he remembred it, it was to be ſorry he ow'd him ſuch an Obligation. 'Tis certain, that any man leſs in love, or leſs generous than the Earl of Warwick, would have been very cautious to incur a Fine of an hundred Marks of Gold; but he ſlighted it, and if he took any precaution at all when he went to the Counteſs, it was only not to expoſe her to the Diſcourſe of others.

His Impatience of ſeeing her carrying him above all other Conſiderations, he uſed no other diſ⯑guiſe than a Cloak, ſo alone he went very late at Night. Her ſurprize when ſhe ſaw him come into her Room, was ſuch that nothing can be compared to it; Do you conſider, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, what you do? you furniſh our common Ene⯑mies with Weapons to fight us, and how dearly will you pay for this uſeleſs Viſit you give me? Pro⯑vided [95] it is not diſpleaſing to you, reply'd he, I [...]ave conſidered of all the reſt; Madam, I don't [...]hink this ſatisfaction too dearly bought, tho' I [...]ay one hundred Marks of Gold for every time I have the honour of ſeeing you; and I ſhould never be much concerned about the Fine, if you would but give me leave to run the hazard of paying it oftner. There is but little reaſon for what you tell me, added ſhe, but, my Lord, you ought not only to have a regard to your own ſatisfaction in this Buſineſs, but alſo to my Reputation, which ought to be a thouſand times dearer to you: Reflect upon what the World will think of me, if you come to viſit me; I am ſtill the Widow of the Earl of De⯑vonſhire. Oh! Madam, you are ſtill the moſt cruel Woman to me in the world, replies the Earl. My Paſſion, my Conſtancy, my Reſpect, nothing is able to open my way to your heart, you always continue to be rigorous to me. The Counteſs re⯑turn'd no anſwer to theſe reproaches, but lifting up her eyes to Heaven, fetch'd a deep ſigh.

He ſtay'd as long as ſhe would give him leave; but the Viſit was ſoon diſcovered, for they had their Spies, who obſerved every body that went in and out at my Lady Devonſhire's; ſo the Earl being Convicted, was forced to pay the Fine, which he did with ſo noble a freedom, as tended more to the confuſion of his Enemies, than cauſed the leaſt diſſatisfaction to him. The King could not forbear to ſpeak to him about it: Is it poſſi⯑ble, ſaid he, you ſhould go about to be your own ruin; and that you ſhould not have Conduct enough to forbear Viſiting my Lady Devonſhire? Did your Majeſty but know how far my Extrava⯑gancy exceeds all bounds, you would not ſpeak to me thus: For, Sir, to confeſs the truth, hitherto I can ſay, I have not ſeen one minute which might flatter me, to be beloved, I come to her againſt [96] her Conſent, I ſubmit to all the harſh rebukes ſhe impoſes upon me, and to make up the matter they make me pay an hundred Marks of Gold. I can ſcarce believe you, ſaid the King Laughing, cer⯑tainly at that rate you are fit for a dark Room, with nothing but ſtraw in it.

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

This Averſion had its riſe from a moſt furious Jealouſie ſhe had conceived againſt her, becauſe they had always been Rivals in point of Beauty; and the Counteſs of Oxford, who was infinitely fond of her Husband, had taken a fancy that he ſighed for my Lady Devonſhire; perhaps ſhe was not in the wrong of it; but if he did, his Deſtiny was the ſame with all the reſt of thoſe that lo⯑ved her. Notwithſtanding all this, this Lady ha⯑ving conceived a hatred againſt her, took upon her to make a moſt deſperate noiſe about the Earl of Warwick's Extravagancies: He was heartily vex'd at it, but to no purpoſe; he left off viſiting her, but this ſerved only to exaſperate her the more, [97] which made her ſpread abroad abundance of Fa⯑ [...]lous Stories, which paſs'd for true ones. Ac⯑ [...]ording to he courſe of the World it is enough [...]at the Darts of a ſlanderous Tongue thrown [...]gainſt a handſome Lady, are back'd by a multi⯑ [...]de, to make them exert their full force, eſpe⯑ [...]ially if ſhe be under the Clouds, and her Beau⯑ [...]y and Charms attract more Envy than Compaſ⯑ [...]on.

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

This put him under an extraordinary perplexi⯑ty for ſeveral days, which the Marqueſs of Montague, (who was then with him) taking no⯑tice [98] of, ‘'I can't without ſome regret, ſaid he, enquire after your Secret, becauſe you will perhaps imagine my curioſity to proceed rather from my own than your Intereſt. But, my Lord, let your opinion be what it will upon that head, I can't forbear to take my ſhare in your Grief, and look upon it as if it were my own: Oh! Brother, you need not fear to be ſuſpect⯑ed by me, cry'd the Earl, My affairs are redu⯑ced to ſo lamentable a condition, ſcarce any body will go about to croſs me. The Counteſs of Devonſhire forbids me to ſee her, and I know not what to think of ſo rigorous a Sentence. The King loves her ſtill. How! cry'd he, ſhall the luſtre of his Crown deface the Merits of my Paſſion? Does ſhe know that if I would have conſulted my own advantage only, I might ſit in the ſame Throne, whereof I put him in Poſſeſſion? So generous an Action as this, is it not worthy of the higheſt Eſteem? I can ſcarce believe, ſaid the Marqueſs, ſhe ſhould prefer the King to you, and would it pleaſe Heaven her heart were prepoſſeſs'd by no other but him: But, my Lord,—I underſtand you Brother, ſaid the Earl, you love her ſtill, but the Conſide⯑ration you have for me, makes you not em⯑bark upon this fatal Ocean; you don't know as yet how terrible it will prove to you; but don't take my word for it, don't check your Paſſion longer upon my account; if it is my Deſtiny to meet with Rivals, you will be in⯑ſtrumental in helping me to vanquiſh them; and if Fate will not afford me the ſatisfaction of being beloved by her, make your ſelf to be beloved, it will afford me ſome ſort of Con⯑ſolation.'’

[99] The Marqueſs, tranſported with joy at what he told him, embraced him moſt tenderly; ‘'And how! My Lord, ſaid he, do you give your Conſent for me to ſerve your Divine Counteſs! What you juſt now ſpoke to me, does it pro⯑ceed from ſome ſudden motion, or is it owing to your more ſerious Conſiderations? Don't trouble your ſelf, reply'd the Earl, about the reaſon that made me ſay ſo, but make the beſt of it, if you can.'’ The Marqueſs of Monta⯑gue did not think fit to puſh the matter any fur⯑ther for that time, and he was ſo taken up already with the flattering Idea of pleaſing the Counteſs, or at leaſt of endeavouring it, or to die at her feet, if ſhe would not ſuffer him to live for her, that he could think of nothing elſe, than how to put his Deſign in execution. This proved no eaſie task, for ſhe had taken ſuch pre⯑cautions to avoid the Viſits of the King and of the Earls of Warwick and Pembroke, that her Houſe was as narrowly guarded as a Fort. Not⯑withſtanding all this, the Marqueſs got in; ſhe was ſurprized to hear his name, and heſitated for a while whether ſhe ſhould give him admittance, he being Brother to the Earl of Warwick, who had been his Second in the late Duel; but it was not in her power to rob her ſelf of the pleaſure of hearing ſome news or other from him; and as ſhe expected he brought her ſome, ſhe had not ſtrength enough to refuſe him. The Marqueſs accoſted her with ſuch ſymptoms of fear in his Face, as much ſurprized her: I am come, Madam, ſaid he, to juſtifie my Conduct; perhaps you have been told I knew before hand of their Quarrel, which occaſioned the Duel; doubtleſs I ſhould have been acquainted with it, had I been in London, but happening to go out of Town that very day when they quarrelled in the Play-houſe, I came to [100] London again at that very time, when my Brother had occaſion for me: He only deſired me to meet him at ſuch a place, which I did; but give you leave to gueſs what ſurprize I was in, when I ſaw there the Earl of Devonſhire, and the Che⯑valier de Hereford. This laſt attack'd the firſt, and I need not tell you the reſt, you being fully inform'd of it.

Alas! my Lord, ſaid ſhe, don't recal to my Mind ſuch dreadful Misfortunes; however, it affords me ſome Conſolation to ſee you take ſo much pains to juſtifie yourſelf: She fetch'd a deep ſigh, and the Marqueſs highly perplex'd, whether he had beſt to ſpeak or no, threw himſelf at her Feet, like one out of his Senſes: Never was a ſurprize comparable to hers; for ſhe immediate⯑ly diſcovered the Secret Symptoms of an amo⯑rous Heart, which hitherto had concealed its Fire. You ſee here, Madam, ſaid he, with a trembling voice, a moſt miſerable Victim offered to ſatisfie your Anger; and if to worſhip you, as we do the Sun that gives us Light, is the way to incur your Diſpleaſure, I am the moſt Guilty a⯑mong all your Adorers. 'Tis the Fate of your Family, cry'd the Counteſs, to diſgrace mine. What is it I have done to you, to cauſe me ſo much diſſa⯑tisfaction? Rather ſay, Madam, reply'd the Mar⯑queſs, What Crime have I committed, to be thus expoſed to your Indifferency? You don't ſo much as think me worthy your Anger. Oh! Madam, I am a thouſand times more unfortunate than I thought myſelf to be. Does the Earl of Warwick know (added ſhe) of your coming hither? Yes, he knew of it (reply'd the Marqueſs) he made his Com⯑plaints to me; and believed, queſtionleſs by woful Experience, that my Deſtiny would be no better than his. But, Madam, ſince decency permits you not to chuſe him for your Spouſe, the ſame [101] reaſon does not hold, I think, in reſpect to me; I [...] in a condition to protect you againſt the violent [...]ddreſſes of the King, and the Animoſity of your [...]nemies: I dare aſſure you, there are certain [...]amilies, that will not ſee themſelves tamely op⯑ [...]reſs'd; and my Brother will ſee my Happineſs with ſatisfaction. Is it poſſible what you tell me [...]ould be true, reply'd the Counteſs, interrupting him? If it be ſo, 'tis time to die. Good God! what is it I hear? ſaid the Marqueſs, I had flat⯑ter'd myſelf too much. Whilſt he remain'd over⯑whelm'd in a deep Study, the Counteſs full of melancholy Thoughts, fram'd a thouſand confu⯑ſed projects, which all tended towards her lea⯑ving England: But the King having taken effe⯑ctual care to ſtop her Paſſage in all the Sea-Ports, twas in vain to make an attempt of that Na⯑ture.

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

The King continued his Viſits to Madam Gray, with the utmoſt Application; and at the ſame time, left no ſtone unturn'd, to do the Earl of Warwick all the ill Offices he could with [...] [102] Lady Devonſhire: Beſides that, he was no leſs aſ⯑ſiduous to perſuade Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy that he loved none but her; ſuch variety of Gallantries, as it could not make him really happy, ſo it could not be pleaſing to his Miſtreſſes. Madam Gray being a Lady of the niceſt Vertue, had got an abſolute aſcendant over the King, which ſhe could not have maintain'd long, had ſhe not been one of the moſt cunning Women of her Age; ſhe began to be weary, to ſee herſelf put off from time to time, in her Marriage with the King; You know Sir, ſaid ſhe, upon what Con⯑dition you engaged me to change my Solitude for the Court; I don't think it reaſonable, that the deſire of keeping your Promiſe, ſhould engage you into a buſineſs of ill Conſequence; but it is alſo leſs reaſonable I ſhould continue any longer in a place where I may be juſtly ſuſpected of ſhewing ſome criminal Complaiſance; you have promiſed me every thing; I ask you for nothing, Sir, ex⯑cept your permiſſion to avoid you. Conſider a lit⯑tle the preſent ſtate of my Affairs, cry'd the King, I am ſcarce ſettled in the Throne, and which is ſtill in conteſt betwixt me and thoſe of Lancaſtor: They have ſtill a Party who will not fail to make uſe of the leaſt ſuſpicion of our Mar⯑riage, to create a jealouſie in the Engliſh Nati⯑on; and you will ſee the Earl of Warwick, whoſe Power is only too great, at the Head of them; you know the enmity he bears you: If therefore, you will but afford me a little time, I will endeavour to the utmoſt of my Power, to give you entire Sa⯑tisfaction. Your Majeſty deceives yourſelf, when you talk to me in this manner, Sir, added Ma⯑dam Gray, I am too well acquainted with this kind of Language, to be much miſtaken in it: I am not ignorant, Sir, of your Paſſion for the Counteſs of Devonſhire; I know your Sentiments [103] for Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy; I don't intend to be any longer an obſtacle in their way; I have a kind of Pride within me, which tells me, a divided Heart is not worthy of mine.

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

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

The Earl of Pembroke accepted this Commiſ⯑ſion with great Satisfaction, becauſe he was ab⯑ſolutely at Variance with the Earl of Warwick, who had loaded him with bloody Reproaches, calling him an ungrateful, faithleſs Man; and Pembrook not accuſtomed to take ſuch Language, had return'd him a ſuitable Anſwer; ſo that ſince [104] that time, they never ſaw one another, but in the King's Preſence. His Paſſion for the Coun⯑teſs was turn'd into a kind of Madneſs, and he felt all the rage of a moſt direful Jealouſie, and ſuch a Deſpair, as is almoſt inſeparable from an unfortunate Lover. It came into his Head to ad⯑viſe the King to ſend out of the way the Earl of Warwick; he propoſed it to his Majeſty accord⯑ingly, who highly approving his Conceit, they had nothing more to do, than to find out a fair Pretence.

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

The King pretended to pitch upon the laſt, and ſpoke to the Earl of Warwick about it; no otherwiſe than if he had really intended the Match; and the Earl, who always feared he might Marry Madam Gray, took this opportu⯑nity to repreſent to him all the Advantages he was likely to reap of this March. He told him, that Margaret of Anjou, whoſe Courage was as great as her Misfortunes, was continually ſolli⯑citing for Troops for Lewis XI. to conduct them [105] into England, and endeavour the Re-eſtabliſh⯑ment of Henry in the Throne; but that he ha⯑ving once marry'd that King's Wife's Siſter, ſhe could not expect any Succours there: And, in ſhort, omitted noching, he thought requiſite to convince the King of the neceſſity of purſuing that Deſign.

The King then told him, that this being a Nego⯑titation of ſuch Conſequence, he could not caſt his Eyes upon any body who was likely to acquit himſelf better of ſo great a Truſt than himſelf; and that therefore, he wiſh'd he would, with⯑out loſing Time in the preparing or ſtaying for his Equipage, go directly to the French Court.

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

‘'Go, go, my Lord, anſwered the Marqueſs full of Grief, you will meet with a good Re⯑ception; 'tis not you ſhe intends to avoid; 'tis the King, 'tis the Earl of Pembroke, 'tis my Lord of Oxford; and alas! 'tis myſelf. Pray Heav'ns it prove ſo! cry'd the Earl, but 'tis only too true, that my Deſtiny is the ſame; ſhe liſtens to her Duty before her Inclination, ſhe has baniſh'd me ſince I fought her Husband, and you may gueſs at it, by the Care ſhe has [106] taken to conceal herſelf, more from me than from you; however, Brother, tho' ſhe hates me, I recommend her to you, as that which is moſt dear to me in the World; you are of yourſelf ſuf⯑ficently diſpoſed to ſerve her, ſo that it is leſs needful to urge it to you; but I ſhall think my ſelf as much indebted to you, as if you did it with reluctancy. Alas! my Lord, reply'd the Marqueſs, how ſhall I be able to anſwer your Deſire? You are acquainted with my Paſſion, I have choſen you for my only Confident; and notwithſtanding this, I check my Paſſion ſo far as not to be jealous of your good Fortune. I will then ſerve her in your Name, as if it were for myſelf: What can you ask more, from the moſt unfortunate Man upon Earth?'’ He ſaid no more, nor did the Earl return any Anſwer; but taking the firſt opportunity of getting away un⯑perceiv'd by any, went to the Counteſs. She had chang'd both her Name and Habitation. The Earl, who was inform'd of every thing, took nobody along with him, for fear of being diſco⯑vered, and carry'd with him a Billet he had writ before, which he delivered to the Perſon that let him in, without deſiring to be admitted into the Houſe.

The Counteſs read the Billet with an extream Emotion: She was ſurprized at the Earl's De⯑parture, and under a great uncertainty what to reſolve upon: How was it poſſible ſhe ſhould let him go into France without ſeeing him! and how was it poſſible to ſee him without expo⯑ſing herſelf to the hazard of a thouſand Misfor⯑tunes! However, her Inclinations got the better of her Prudence, and ſhe admitted the Earl into her Cloſet. ‘'Is it poſſible, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, you ſhou'd find me out every where? Is it not high time you ſhou'd let me die in Tranquil⯑lity? [107] You know what Apprehenſions I live un⯑der from thoſe who hate me.'’ ‘'Don't reproach me with my Paſſion, Madam, reply'd the Earl, I have acted beyond my ſtrength, in checking my Inclinations to ſee you; but could you be ſo rigorous as to command me to go out of the Kingdom, without giving me leave to con⯑jure you to go along with me? I will find out a way to get you ſafely aboard; muſt I leave you at London, whilſt I am a going to Paris? And is it in my Power to follow you, my Lord? cry'd the Counteſs; Under what Colour can I take ſuch a Reſolution? Pray conſider my real Intereſt, and then tell me whether it is poſſible for me to do it?'’ ‘'Were the Danger you are likely to be expoſed to, leſs than it is, anſwer⯑ed the Earl, I ſhould perhaps not urge you ſo far as I do, to avoid it; but, Madam, take my word for it, the King's Thoughts are not ſo much taken up with Madam Gray, nor with Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, nor with his intended Marriage with the Princeſs of Savoy, but that he thinks of gaining your Heart: The difficulty he meets with in the Conqueſt thereof, ſerves only to enflame his Deſire, his Glory and Plea⯑ſure: To be ſhort, Madam, he is a King, he is amiable, handſome, and witty; what is it I have not to fear? Nothing at all, my Lord, I aſſure you, ſaid ſhe, Nothing at all; 'tis true, you are not a King, but it was your own fault you were not one: for the reſt, you yourſelf know that the King has not gain'd the leaſt advantage upon my Heart; would it pleaſe Heaven I could treat you with the ſame Indif⯑ferency as I do him. Then come into France, added the Earl, throwing himſelf at her Feet; Come, divine Counteſs! haſten to appear in a Court, where you may expect to meet with a [108] reception ſuitable to your Merits, let us remove from this: I am very ſenſible. that the King has conceived a ſecret Averſion againſt me, a conſiderable time ago, notwithſtanding all his precaution to conceal it from me; and if you cou'd once leave England, you ſhou'd ſoon ſee me leave it alſo.'’

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

‘'Who has preſcribed you ſuch ſevere Laws' (reply'd the Amorous Earl) and what is it that renders me ſo odious? don't flatter me with any particular Reſpect, I ſee the utmoſt ex⯑tent of my Diſgrace; for unleſs you did hate me, how could you take ſuch Reſolutions as you do? The Counteſs perſiſting in the ſame Sentiments, Don't imagine, added ſhe, that when I ſay, I won't go along with you into France, I don't intend to go thither; but I will take my own time to go privately, and I muſt tell you, I will do all I can to conceal it from you; I dread you more than any other Perſon, becauſe I have a high eſteem for you. The [109] Motive is highly obliging, but the Conſequence favours of Cruelty,'’ reply'd the Earl with ſome⯑thing of Anger in his Countenance, and having pauſed a while: ‘'Well, Madam, ſince I can expect nothing from you, don't refuſe my Brother, he adores you, he is a Perſon of Merit, do him Juſtice, make him your Husband; his Happineſs will be my Comfort, and your Ver⯑tue will ſufficiently ſecure him againſt the ſu⯑ſpicion he might conceive in regard to the King.'’

‘'Oh! my Lord, cry'd my Lady Devonſhire, I can't pardon you this great Error in point of Nicety: No, the Marqueſs of Montague ſhall never have my Hand, no, nor the greateſt Monarch of the Univerſe: That fatality which hinders me from joining yours with mine, ſhall not enforce me to accept of your Brother's; but once more, is it poſſible you ſhou'd be contented, I ſhould become your Siſter in Law?'’ Alas! Madam, reply'd the Earl, kiſſing her Hand againſt her Will, ‘'I know not what I would have; when you take away all hopes from me, I loſe my Reaſon, and fall into ſuch a degree of Deſpair, as wou'd move Compaſſion in any other Perſon but you. The Counteſs all in Tears, gave him ſome tender Looks; and both their Hearts were ſo far overcome with Grief, that they could not utter one Word for ſome time.'’ It was at laſt agreed betwixt them, ſhe ſhould re-aſſume her Diſguiſe, the better to conceal herſelf, and ſuffer herſelf to be con⯑ducted in a Man's Apparel, by the Marqueſs of Montague, to that beforementioned ſtupendious ſubterraneous Palace the Earl of Warwick had built on purpoſe for her. The Earl did take his leave, but with the utmoſt Grief; he ſaw very well, he might flatter himſelf to be beloved, tho' [109] he purchaſed this Happineſs at a very exceſſive rate.

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

Accordingly the ſame Night he conducted her with two Waiting women, diſguiſed all three in Mens habit, to this ſtupendious Vault, which for its beauty might challenge a preference to the moſt Magnificent Palace. The Counteſs was ſo much ſurprized thereat, that notwithſtanding the trouble ſhe was then under ſhe could not forhear to admire the Rarities of the Marbles and Wain⯑ſcotting, tho' all the precious Moveables were taken out before. There were ſeveral Cloſets or Retiring places, the Doors whereof were ſo artificially contrived, that no body but who was very well acquainted with it could open them. The Marqueſs ſhew'd the ſecret openings thereof to my Lady Devonſhire, and fearing leaſt ſhe ſhould forbid him to come to ſee her, if he con⯑tinued to entertain her with his Paſſion, he choſe [110] rather to do ſo much violence to himſelf as to ſpeak to her only with his Eyes. She had too great an Eſteem for him to ſhew her ſelf inſen⯑ſible to ſo rare and noble a Deportment, ſhe de⯑fired him to be aſſured of her Eſteem, and to viſit her now and then, to comfort her in her Misfortunes.

At the ſame time the Earl of Pembroke per⯑ſiſting in his Reſolution of giving the King an account of the Counteſs, had placed himſelf in Diſguiſe alſo, not far from the before ſaid Sub⯑terraneous place, when he ſaw the Marqueſs of Montague coming along with the Counteſs of Devonſhire, whom he knew notwithſtanding the darkneſs of the Night, and her Diſguiſe, having ſeen her in the ſame Habit at Madam Digby's; but had ſhe appear'd in another Dreſs, how was it poſſible for him to miſtake her? That fatal Ar⯑row which pierced his heart when he met her at Chelſea with the Counteſs of Oxford, I ſay that ſame Arrow remain'd ſtill in his heart, with this difference only, that now he felt himſelf torment⯑ed only with the moſt cruel Jealouſie that could be, that he lived without hopes, and that he act⯑ed like a Man who cared not what he did. He run ſtraight to the King, and told him where my Lady Devonſhire was lodged; and this Monarch ſeeing himſelf now freed from that reſpect he preſerved for the Earl of Warwick, thought of nothing elſe than how to ſurprize an unhappy perſon, deſtitute of all Protection, and oppreſs'd by her Enemies. For this purpoſe he pitch'd up⯑on a very dark Night, and took no body along with him, except the Earl of Pembroke, and the Chevalier de Herbert his Brother. Coming to the Entrance of the Vault, which they found not without much difficulty, they ſoon broke the Door. The noiſe thereof put the Counteſs and [112] her Two Waiting-women to the utmoſt Conſter⯑nation; and tho' they were all three ſhut up in one of theſe abſtruſe Cloſets, the Doors where⯑of were undiſcoverable, yet they might eaſily underſtand all what was ſaid, the Counteſs knowing both the King's and the Earl of Pem⯑broke's voice. Having narrowly ſearch'd all the Corners of the Place, they concluded ſhe was gone from thence to another. ‘'Why would I delay coming hither? cry'd the King; I had certainly met with her here; where muſt I look for her now? The Earl of Pembroke told him, He ſhould leave every thing to his care; Perhaps, ſaid he, ſhe is gone to try whether ſhe can get beyond Sea; and when ſhe finds ſhe cannot, ſhe will certainly come hither a⯑gain. But, reply'd the King, when ſhe finds the Doors broken, ſhe will not think her ſelf ſafe here, and will come to this place no more. All ſhall be repair'd before Day-break, conti⯑nued Pembroke, your Majeſty may confide in my care.'’

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

And ſeeing his ſtay would be uſeleſs in that place, he went away ſorely vex'd to ſee himſelf thus diſappointed in an attempt of this nature. The poor Counteſs was under no ſmall Diſtur⯑bance, what reſolution to take; ſhe found the King was gone, but heard the Earl of Pembroke's voice, who ſaid to one that was with him: So ſoon as Day appears, you muſt fetch ſome Work⯑men to have the Doors mended; for my part, I will ſtay here till I have placed all my Spies in [113] their proper Stations. The Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire ſeeing that if the Marqueſs of Montague ſhould come thither, ſhe ſhould be found out by the Earl's Spies; or that if he ſhould meet the Earl of Pembroke there, they would come to the utmoſt Extremities took a reſolution, proceed⯑ing partly from Deſpair, partly from her natural Courage; this was to ſally forth with her two Waiting-women with Swords drawn, and Piſtols in hand, to open their way if the Earl of Pem⯑broke ſhould offer to ſtop them. They no ſooner appear'd, but Pembroke and his Brother ſeeing their Swords gliſter, and not knowing who they were, advanced fiercely againſt the Counteſs; but ſhe being careleſs of her life, threw her ſelf ſo furiouſly upon the Earl, that ſhe put his Life in danger. She wounded him with her Sword, and was going to ſecond the blow, had ſhe not per⯑ceived that he began to retreat without offering to fight any longer. In effect, he then knew her, and his Paſſion triumphing over all his other Re⯑ſolutions, he would not fight nor ſtop her; and when the Chevalier Herbert drew near to revenge his Brother's Quarrel, he held him by the Arm: Thus the fair Counteſs opening her ſelf a paſſage through her Enemies, left her Subterraneous dwelling place, and went to another, where ſhe was aſſured of the Fidelity of her Friends.

'Twas next to an Impoſſibility the Earl of Pembroke ſhould be Wounded, and the thing not be ſoon known at Court. The King being in⯑form'd of all that paſs'd by the Chevalier Her⯑bert, was vex'd to the Soul, to have miſs'd of the Place where the Counteſs of Devonſhire lay concealed; and he could not forbear to be diſſa⯑tisfy'd with the Earl of Pembroke and his Bro⯑ther, becauſe they did detain him no longer. On the other hand, Madam Gray was diſturbed by a [114] thouſand ſuſpicious thoughts on the King's ac⯑count, which ſhe found very hard to be convin⯑ced of; tho' ſhe knew that the young Counteſs had ſtill a conſiderable place in his heart, yet when ſhe conſidered the Earl of Pembroke's Paſſi⯑on for her, this ſerved to check the motion ſhe had conceived of the King's being concern'd in this Nocturnal Adventure. There was not a word ſaid at Court of the King, no more than of the Counteſs of Devonſhire, the whole News run upon a Rencounter betwixt ſome Men, ſo that the matter ſeem'd plain enough to every body, but to her, who notwithſtanding all theſe probable Appearances, could not get it out of her thoughts but that this Adventure concern'd chiefly the King and the Counteſs. The Marqueſs of Montague was in a worſe condition than all the reſt, he came to ſee his dear Counteſs, but found her not. What an Agony was he in, when he ſaw a long tract of Blood, ſome of the Movea⯑bles and the Doors broken to pieces! He could think no otherwiſe than that ſhe had been carry'd away by force; he accuſed all the World with it, ſometimes the King or Pembroke, ſometimes the Counteſs's Enemies; his pain was unſpeaka⯑ble till he underſtood that the Earl of Pembroke had been Wounded. After all, this piece of News gave occaſion to more Reflections. He that had Wounded him, muſt needs be the ſame perſon that came thither to perſecute the Counteſs; and conſidering that he would be fool-hardy enough to venture upon ſuch an Attempt, were it only in regard of the Earl of Warwick, the more he thought of the matter, the more he was con⯑firm'd in his opinion, that the King was at the head of the Party; but what means was there to unfold this Riddle, it being uncertain whether my Lady Devonſhire was at liberty or not?

[115] The King needed to have acted with much more circumſpection than actually he did, in an Affair of ſo peculiar a nature, to keep it from the knowledge of Madam Gray, who had many Creatures of her own, who made their Court to her at the expence of King Edward. She would loſe no time to be further ſatisfy'd in the matter, but taking a Chair attended by a few only, went to the Place, where ſhe found the Doors broke open, and entring with much precipitation, found the Marqueſs of Montague there, ſtill buſied in ſearching every corner of the place. They were equally ſurprized to meet one another here, for the Averſion that was betwixt Madam Gray and the Earl of Warwick having engaged the Marqueſs to adhere to his Brother's Intereſt, he never came to viſit her. However the high Extracti⯑on of Jaqueline of Lunenburgh her Mother, and her Perſonal Vertues, as they challen⯑ged reſpect from every Body, ſo the Marqueſs fearing he might diſturb her, was going to with⯑draw, when ſhe deſired him to ſtay. ‘'You may ea⯑ſily gueſs, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, there were cer⯑tain ſtrong motives that brought me hither, 'tis poſſible you may, if you pleaſe, ſatisfie me at once in what I deſire to know. The whole queſtion I have to ask is, Whether the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire has been here? Yes, Madam, return'd the Marqueſs, 'tis moſt certain that ſhe was here. Oh! cry'd ſhe, I need doubt no more of what I ſuſpected before. The King is unfaithful.'’ She had ſcarce ſpoken theſe words, but happening to caſt her eyes upon the Look⯑ing-Glaſs where the King had written the fol⯑lowing Line, Had I found her, Warwick ſhould have ſeen her no more, ſhe knew the Character to be the King's. At the ſame time it fell into her thoughts, that the King had written theſe [116] words only to amuſe the Curious, and to make them believe his deſign had miſcarry'd; which ſerved only to perſwade her, that the Counteſs was in his power. I have ſeen enough, ſaid ſhe, to ſet my heart at reſt. I came, added ſhe, to Court with much reluctancy, and I ſhall leave it without pain. My Curioſity is ſatisfy'd, my Lord, I wiſh yours were ſo too. Having ſpoken theſe words, ſhe went out of this Subterraneous Vault, leav [...]ng the Marqueſs in the greateſt confuſion of thoughts that could be. For there being no room to doubt but that it was the King who had forced open the Doors, he ſaw no hopes how the Counteſs could eſcape his Violences. So that let him look upon the thing from what ſide he would, he found nothing but what furniſh'd him with ſuffi⯑cient matter of Affliction, even beyond what can be imagined. My Lady Devonſhire was not ſo lit⯑tle concern'd for his ſatisfaction, as to ſuffer him to remain under theſe dreadful Apprehenſions; but whom could ſhe truſt upon ſo nice a point? and not doubting but that ſhe was betray'd be⯑fore, ſhe dreaded the ſame Fate a ſecond time.

As for Madam Gray, ſhe having taken a reſo⯑lution not to diſpute the matter any further with the King, but to avoid ſeeing him, order'd her Chair to turn ſtraightways towards her Seat of Graſton, with a reſolution not to come near the Court, a place ſhe look'd upon now as too dangerous for the Enjoyment of her Repoſe. The King coming to her Lodging, was ſurprized to find her to be gone abroad; but his ſurprize was much greater when within a few hours after he was told, ſhe was met upon the Road, making all the haſte ſhe could from London. His Paſſion for the Counteſs of Devonſhire at that time was forced to give way to that for the fair Widow. He ſent for the Earl Rivers her Brother, 'You [117] may ſerve me better upon this occaſion than any other perſon, ſaid he to him, very obligingly, be⯑cauſe you being in love your ſelf, are beſt able to judge what inquietudes I labour under on account of the departure of Madam Gray; I know not any reaſon ſhe [...] thus to leave me. Go, Earl, go, find her out, bring her back, and reſt aſſured, that if you do me this good Office, I will give my Con⯑ſent to what I [...] refuſed you. Oh! Sir, cry'd the Earl Rivers, throwing himſelf at his feet, is it poſſible your Majeſty will give me permiſſion to marry my dear Leonore? I dare ſcarce flatter my ſelf ſo far; but, Sir, don't leſſen the honour I ſhall have of obeying you, by a Reward to it; I ſhall think my ſelf happy enough, if I can only Go immediately, continued the King, aſſure her of the entire poſſeſſion of my heart, and that I am extreamly ſenſible of the indifferency ſhe ſhews for me.

The Earl Rivers, tranſported with Joy at the King's promiſe in favour of his beloved Leo⯑nore, (who outlived the Poyſon ſhe had taken) mounted on Horſeback immediately, and coming near to a ſpacious Wood, he ſaw in an adjacent Valley a good number of Horſemen riding ſo hard, that tho' he follow'd them at full ſpeed, he could not poſſibly overtake them; but coming to Madam Gray's, was ſoon inform'd 'twas the King, who thought he ought not to entruſt any body but himſelf to perſwade his Mi⯑ſtreſs to return. And to ſpeak the truth, he was endued with all the qualifications requiſite to en⯑gage a heart. His Wit was not inferiour to his Perſon. He never ſpoke but what was attended with ſome peculiar Graces; and being both ex⯑ceeding fair and ſprightly, he far ſurpaſs'd all the reſt at Court, except it were the Earl of War⯑wick, who had ſome advantages above him. He [118] reproach'd Madam Gray, but with a thouſand tender Expreſſions: Can you imagine, ſaid he to her, I will break my word with you, after I have made ſuch a ſtep of ſending away the Earl of War⯑wick under no leſs pretence than to treat of a Marriage betwixt the Princeſs of Savoy and me? Frun the hazard of diſobliging King Lewis XI. who being daily ſollicited by Henry and Margaret of Anjou to aſſiſt them with ſome Troops in order to make War againſt me, will doubtleſs ſoon hear⯑ken to their Propoſals, after I have given him ſuch an eſſential Cauſe of Complaint as this will prove; Notwithſtanding all this, tho' I foreſee the Con⯑ſequences, nothing touches me but the ſatisfacti⯑on of ſeeing you in my Poſſeſſion, and at that very Jancture I am preparing for that happy day, you leave me, Madam, and that without any cauſe. I will not Sir, reply'd ſhe, juſtifie my Conduct either by Tears or a deep Melancholy; Your Ma⯑jeſty has made me hope for an Honour I thought ſo far above me, that I never would give my ſelf leave to deſire it, looking upon it as a thing im⯑poſſible: But at laſt, when I ſaw the Earl of War⯑wick ſent out of the way, I began to be more cre⯑dulous, and ſhould perhaps be in the ſame error ſtill, were I not certain that your Majeſty conti⯑nues to be in love with the Counteſs of Devonſhire 'Tis her you would ſnatch away from the Earl of Warwick, and not me, Sir, whom you intend to place on the Throne; I judged that upon ſo weighty an occaſion I could do nothing more becoming the re⯑ſpect I owe you, and that Vertue I always profeſs'd, than to retreat to my Solitude, and there to lead, if poſſible, an agreeable and eaſie Life, without either pleaſure or pain.

The King's Paſſion acquired new ſtrength by the ſeeming reluctancy of the fair Widow. She was a Lady of a great ſhare of Wit, Graceful⯑neſs [119] and Conduct; ſhe knew the weak ſide of Edward, and being reſolved to make her Lover her Spouſe, ſhe carry'd the Point ſo far, as to make him abjure the Counteſs of Devonſhire, Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, and all the reſt he ever had any Paſſion for. This done, he brought her back triumphantly to London, and publickly declared his intention of marrying her.

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

The King was no ſooner gone, but ſhe ſent word to Mrs. Elizabeth Lucy, to thwart the Match with all her Power, aſſuring her of her Protection. This young Lady being deſcended from an Illuſtrious Houſe, the King fell in Love with her, whilſt he was as yet Earl of March; [120] and as nothing could be more dreadful to her than the loſs of a Prince, who was ſo dear to her, ſhe went to the Biſhop of London to intreat him not to marry Edward, becauſe he had pro⯑miſed to marry her; and the Dutcheſs of York having notice thereof, declared that her Son could not in point of Conſcience marry Madam Groy. But the King diſſatisfy'd with Mrs. Lucy, challenged her to make good her words, and ſhe at laſt, either out of reſpect to the King, or becauſe it was really ſo, confeſs'd ſhe had loved that Prince without any proſpect of being his Queen But, added ſhe, as ſhe was throwing her ſelf at his feet, and bathing them with her Tears, If my paſſion for your Glory, Sir, did check me from wiſhing for any thing that might ſully its luſtre, at this time, now you are become ſo regardleſs of it your ſelf as to intend to marry Madam Gray, will you not permit me to ask you to be preferr'd to her? I am inferiour to her in nothing, ſhe is the Widow of a private Gentleman, upon whom her Heart had been beſtow d before, ſo that your Majeſty will have it at ſecond hand: but as to my own, I gave it you without any other conſi⯑deration, than becauſe I loved you: You are the only perſon who has been Maſter of all my tender⯑neſs; take pity, Sir, of a young Woman whom you are going to render the moſt unfortunate per⯑ſon in the World. I requeſt no more of you than not to ſuffer me to ſee my Rival upon the Throne; if you will place the Princeſs of Savoy there, I will ſubmit to my Deſtiny without murmur⯑ing.

The King heard her without interrupting her, and then fetching a deep ſigh; ‘'I am not of an ungrateful Temper, my dear Betty, ſaid he, I will preſerve an eſteem for you as long as I live, and will give you moſt ſolid Proofs of it; [121] but nothing in the world is able to alter the re⯑ſolution I have taken of eſpouſing Madam Gray.'’ ‘'Well, let us ſay no more of it then, cry'd Mrs. Lucy, you will never ſee me again, Sir, I bid you farewell for ever:'’ She had no ſooner ſaid theſe Words, but ſhe went away, and retired into a Nunnery, there to conceal herſelf under a Religious Habit. Juſt as ſhe was alight⯑ing out of her Chair, ſhe was not a little ſurpri⯑zed to ſee my Lord Stanley, who offer'd his Hand to her, he being juſt then coming back from viſiting his Siſter the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire; who purſuant to her Mother the Coun⯑teſs of Angleſey's Command, was gone into the ſame Nunnery. My Lord had no ſooner ſeen Mrs. Lucy's Livery, but he went out to meet her. ‘'Well, Madam, ſaid he, are you to be our Queen? no body in the World deſerves it bet⯑ter than yourſelf. Oh! my Lord, cry'd ſhe, I am quire inconſolable, the King is become ungrateful to me; I am reſolved to keep my⯑ſelf concealed from the World, for the remain⯑der of my Life, and come here to find a ſafe retreat.'’

‘'Before you enter into the Nunnery, ſaid he, I beg a moment or two to diſcourſe with you;'’ ſo going into a ſpacious Dining-room, where there was no other Company near them, ‘'The Paſſion I have for you, ſaid he, has render'd me hitherto the moſt unfortunate of all Men living. Knowing the King's Sentiments for you, and yours for him, I had nothing elſe to do, but to ſuffer, and ſay nothing, but loved you nevertheleſs. Madam, pray remember the Danger I expoſed my ſelf to, to preſerve your Life, when one day being a Hunting, a terri⯑ble Stag, after having made ſeveral Perſons Victims of his Fury, was making directly at [122] you: I ſhould ſcarce have given myſelf the trouble to ſave Edward's Miſtreſs, had it not been my own particular Concern. 'Twas in vain for me to conſider you were under ſtrict Engagements with him, and upon that ſcore to call all my Reaſon to my Aid; my Heart would always let you triumph over it, and without your Knowledge, I have often plead⯑ed in your behalf, againſt myſelf. At this time, now the Scene is quite altered, and that you are reſolved to bury yourſelf in this Houſe, on⯑ly out of Spite and Chagrin, methinks I may make you ſenſible of the Danger into which you are going to precipitate yourſelf; for to live at ones eaſe in a Retirement, we ought to have other Motives to bring us hither, than what proceeds from Spleen and Anger; as ſoon as theſe are over, you will regret the Loſs of the World, you will be tired, you will diſlike it, and you will grow Deſperate. I dare pro⯑poſe to you a much better Conveniency; let us unite, Madam, our Deſtinies by an undiſſol⯑vable Knot; I have a high eſteem for you.'’

Oh! My Lord, cry'd ſhe interrupting him, durſt I flatter myſelf with ſuch Hopes, you ſhou'd have my Hand, together with my entire Inclinati⯑ons; but I believe I had better paſs away the re⯑mainder of my Days in a Nunnery, than to run the hazard of being ſlighted. To be ſhort, my Lord gave her all the Promiſes, and confirm'd them by all the Oaths he could think of; and Mrs. Lucy reſolved rather to take his Word, than turn Nun; ſo ſhe return'd to London, and was marry'd to my Lord Stanley, againſt the conſent of the Earl of Angleſey, who nevertheleſs, ſoon after pardon'd his Son, and took them both into his Houſe; where Mrs. Lucy, by her modeſt De⯑portment, [123] ſoon blotted out the remembrance of [...] former Frailty for the King.

The Dutcheſs of York, who had flatter'd her⯑ [...]lf hitherto, that this young Miſtreſs might re⯑ [...]ve the King's Paſſion for her, and that in the [...]ean time the Earl of Warwick might have an [...]pportunity of obtaining a poſitive Anſwer from [...]e King of France, was highly afflicted to ſee his Project miſcarry; this made her willingly ſecond the Petition of the Lord Mayor of Lon⯑ [...]on, wherein he, attended by a great Number of Perſons of Quality, humbly repreſented to the King, the Inconveniencies that were likely to [...]ttend ſo unequal a Match, to the great Detri⯑mnent of his Glory: But Edward was offended [...]hereat, and told them, That an amiable and vir⯑ [...]uous Woman ought to be preferr'd to one of a higher Rank: However, this engaged him to write to the Earl of Charolois, Son of the Duke of Burgundy, to deſire him to ſend over into Eng⯑land ſome of the neareſt Relations of Madam Gray, in hopes that their appearance might im⯑print a Reſpect in the Engliſh for her Perſon, according to her Demerits. The Earl of Charo⯑lois overjoy'd to ſee his Marriage with the Prin⯑ceſs of Savoy come to nothing, which hitherto had made him not a little uneaſie, by reaſon of the Alliance to be contracted betwixt King Lewis XI. (a mortal Enemy to the Houſe of Bur⯑gundy) and Edward, did not fail to ſend James of Luxenburgh, Earl of S. Pol, and Uncle to the fair Widow, attended by a great Number of great Lords, and a hundred Knights, moſt mag⯑nificently equipp'd, to aſſiſt at the ſolemnity of the Nuptials. The Fame of their Names, and the richneſs and beauty of their Equipage, ſerved to ſtop the Mouths of all that had exclaim'd againſt the Match before; ſo that the King [124] eſpouſed Madam Gray in publick, under the joyful Acclamations of the People, who were much taken with the Sumptuous Preparations and Appearance of the Feaſt, contrived ſo on purpoſe, by the King's Orders. The Earl of St Pol, being upon his D [...]parture for his own Country, was preſented by the King with a Chain, valued at three Hundred Nobles, and each of the Knights of his Company with one of Fifty Nobles. He deſired him to aſ⯑ſure the Earl of Charolois of his entire Friendſhip, and as a token thereof, made him a Knight of the Garter, ſending the Collar to him by the ſaid Earl of S. Pol, and engaging his Word to ſend him ſome of his beſt Troops.

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

You have been pleas'd to flatter me, Sir, ſaid he, that your Majeſty would not oppoſe my Hap⯑pineſs; and I hope, that after the Honour you have done us, of placing my Siſter upon the Throne, I may, without being preſumptuous, deſire [...] favour at your Hands. Were it for your advan⯑tage, reply'd the King, I ſhould be overjoy'd [...]: But do you conſider, that by marrying Leonore you will neither improve your Eſtate nor [...]? What occaſion have I for it, Sir? return'd the Earl; having the Honour to be ally'd to you, it ſeems to me, I ought to look for nothing more than how to ſatisfie my Paſſion; and I know no greater Satisfaction in the world, than to have a Wife worthy of being beloved. But all this without a good Fortune, added the King, makes us often lead but an indifferent Life; for how often hap⯑pens it, that Love ceaſes? and then you will find an Eſtate much more convenient than Love. I [125] am too much in Love, Sir, ſaid the Earl, to ima⯑ [...]ne I ſhall ever repent of having eſpouſed Leo⯑ [...]re; on the contrary, in having her, I believe I [...]ill have every thing; and without her I ſhall not be ſenſible of any Enjoyments: Yes, Sir, I ſhall be always rich, if ſhe is my Wife, and always poor, if ſhe be not. Well then, ſaid the King, purſue the Motions of ſo tender a Paſſion, I ſhould be unjuſt to diſturb it, at the ſame time when I ſacrifice every thing to my own.

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

He now loſt no time to go to Madam Digby's, his Equipage being very Sumptuous, accor⯑ding to the Rank he bore at Court. Leonore, who had heard nothing as yet of the King's Marriage with Madam Gray, could not imagine from whence proceeded ſo great an Alteration; but her ſurprize was much greater, when he pre⯑ſented to her the Jewels and rich Apparel ſent her by the new Queen. He gave her an account of the whole Affair, and told her, he was come [126] to conjure her to abandon this melancholy Soli⯑tude, to juſtifie his Choice at London.

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

Whilſt theſe things were tranſacting at Lon⯑don (where the Marqueſs of Montague did not appear at any of theſe publick Feaſts) the Earl of Warwick, who had brought the Negotiation of the Marriage betwixt King Edward and Bona Princeſs of Savoy, to a good iſſue in France, had notice ſent him ſeveral times, by his Brothers, of what paſs'd at Court; but would give no Credit to it: For the King's Conduct in this Af⯑fair being ſo irregular, and he having a much better opinion of his Underſtanding, he choſe rather to call in queſtion the ſincerity of his Friends who ſent him the News, than the King's Conduct, till he was convinced of the Truth thereof by the King of France's own Mouth. This Prince being one of the greateſt Politicians in the World, conceal'd his Reſentment, and coldly told the Earl, There were certain Faults, by which thoſe that committed them were more effectually puniſh'd, than thoſe againſt whom [127] they were committed. Had the King, your Ma⯑ [...]er, added he, choſen another Princeſs before my [...]iſter in Law, I ſhould have ſhewn my Reſentment [...]pon ſuch an account; but now the whole Queſti⯑ [...] is concerning a private Gentlewoman who [...]ad been his Subject, who has nothing to give him, [...]ut to ſatisfie his Paſſion, I aſſure you, my Lord [...]mbaſſador, I am very well ſatisfy'd. Oh! Sir, [...]y'd the Earl, I beg of your Majeſty not to give [...]e the Title of an Ambaſſador, I will never [...]erve a King in that ſtation, who breaks his Word. He found, that if he ſhould go on, he [...]hould be apt to diſcover too far his Reſentment, [...]y he ſaid no more, for fear the King, who was [...]ne of the moſt refined Princes in the World, if [...]e ſhould dive into his real Sentiments, ſhould [...]mprove it to his own Advantage.

He was no ſooner come out of the Audience Chamber, but the Queen ſent word ſhe deſired to [...]peak with him: He found her in Company with the Princeſs of Savoy, both tranſported with Anger. Tell your Maſter, ſaid the Queen, [...]e ſhall ſend us the Picture of my Siſter; he is [...]nworthy both of the Original, and of the Copy. The Princeſs looking ſtedfaſtly upon the Ambaſ⯑ſador, You bear (ſaid ſhe) a ſhare in the Affront [...]ut upon me, as well as myſelf; perhaps I ſhould not have put the leaſt Confidence in what has been propoſed to me, had it come from any other but the Earl of Warwick; I ſhould have made due re⯑flection upon the fickle temper of the King of England, but my Lord 'twas your Name that made me put my confidence in the Propoſals made to us; then remember in what manner they treat us, and if you have any Power, make uſe of it to revenge our Wrong. Madam, reply'd the Earl, after this I dare promiſe you nothing; but time will convince [128] you whether I know how to reſent an Injury done to your Highneſs and myſelf.

His impatience to return to London was too great, and the part he had acted in Paris too diſ⯑agreeable to ſtay there any longer. He left that City, altogether taken up with the Thoughts of what had happened in England to Madam Gray: There being a mutual Averſion betwixt them, he could not promiſe himſelf for the future, ary conſiderable ſhare in the King's Favour, and the Honour he had done him, in putting him upon the Negotiation of a Marriage he intended not to perform, ſeem'd ſo cruel an Affront to him, that he thought no Revenge beyond his Reſent⯑ment. He being not, as yet, acquainted with what had happened to my Lady Devonſhire, he hoped to find her in her ſubtenaneous Lodgings; and if there was any thing that could allay his diſſatisfaction, it was the pleaſure he propo⯑ſed to himſelf of ſeeing again the only Perſon he lov'd beſt in the World. As he came nearer to London, he underſtood that the publick Re⯑joicings continu'd, that Anthony, Sirnamed the Baſtard, had paſs'd the Sea ſo ſtrongly guarded, that two Privateers, who pretended to take him, were taken, with a great Booty, and the reſt forced to ſheer off. This being one of the moſt brave, and gallant Knights of his Age. Charles Earl of Charolois, highly ſatisfy'd with thoſe Marks of his Friendſhip Edward had tranſmitted to him by the Earl of S. Pol, and judging if of the greateſt Conſequence to enter into a more ſtrict Correſpondence with this Monarch, to withdraw him from the League propoſed to him by King Lewis XI. againſt the Duke of Burgundy his Fa⯑ther, charged his Natural Brother with a Com⯑miſſion to ſound King Edward's Inclinations con⯑cerning a Marriage with Margaret of York his [129] Siſter. He could not have entruſted ſo weighty [...] Affair into better Hands; for upon his Arri⯑val, the Tournaments and other ſuch like Exer⯑ciſes were renew'd: The Lord Deſcalles, Brother- [...]-Law to the new Queen, was to engage him; a Day being appointed for that purpoſe.

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

He left Sion-hill, attended only by Berincour, both with the Vizors of their Helmets down; and as they were riding with an eaſie Pace to⯑wards London, ſaw a Knight croſs the Road, whoſe Armour being very like the Earl's, they had the Curioſity of taking particular notice of him, and caſting their Eyes upon his Borialer found theſe Words there: Never did Eyes be⯑hold ſo fair a Lady. This Inſcription ſeem'd too nearly to reflect upon the Counteſs of Devonſhire's Charms, for the Earl of Warwick to let him paſs by without oppoſition. Knight, ſaid he to the unknown, whoever you are, you give your Opi⯑nion with too much Preſumption for the Lady you think ſo handſom; and I can aſſure you, I know one that's beyond her. It ſeems to me as if you judged with more raſhneſs than I, reply'd the Knight; but I am ſo well ſatisfy'd in my aſſerti⯑on, [130] that I am ſure you will be of the ſame Opini⯑on, ſo ſoon as you have ſeen her Picture; if you can deny it after that, look here, ſaid he, point⯑ing to his Sword, this ſhall make you own it to be ſo. Thy Threats don't frighten me, reply'd the Earl with a Smile, let us ſee this Picture, and at the ſame time prepare for Fighting. The un⯑known, without returning an Anſwer, drew out a long Chain of Gold, on which was faſtned a magnificent Caſe, richly ſet with Diamonds, and in it the Picture of the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire. The Earl of Warwick's ſurprize at the ſight thereof, was beyond what can be imagined, he fetch'd a deep lamentable ſigh, and for ſome time remained like a Man bereaved of his Sen⯑ſes; but on a ſudden recovering himſelf, No, ſaid he, I don't diſpute the Beauty of this Lady to be ſurpaſſing all others; but I will maintain that you are unworthy of ſo precious a pledge of her Friendſhip. Having ſpoken theſe Words, he was going to take a Launce Berincour held in his Hand, whilſt the unknown affronted at theſe Words, was preparing to attack him: But Be⯑rincour, who obſerved every thing in cool Blood, happening to know the Caſe wherein was the Counteſſes Picture, becauſe he had been em⯑ploy'd in having it made, did not queſtion but that this Knight was the Marqueſs of Mon⯑tague.

Oh! my Lord, ſaid he to his Maſter, keeping the Launce back, 'tis my Lord, your Brother look upon him with attention, and you will know him as well as I do. The Earl of Warwick find⯑ing it was him, beckned him with his Hand▪ that before they began the Combat, he would ſpeak to him: And why Brother, ſaid he, ſhoul [...] we turn our Weapons againſt one another, which ought to be employ'd againſt our common Enemies▪ [131] and ſo he lifted up his Vizor. The Marqueſs almoſt diſtracted at what had happened, threw himſelf from his Horſe; and the Earl alighting likewiſe, went to meet him with open Arms. And are you here, my Lord, cry'd the Marqueſs, and would not let me know it? What have I done to you? Don't charge me with Indifferency, reply'd the Earl, you know how dearly I love you: But underſtanding that there are to be certain Courſes and Tournaments, wherein the Queens Knights are to make their appearance, I had a deſire to be there incognito, to maintain the Beauty of the Counteſs of Devonſhire ſurpaſſes hers; in hopes to draw the King into the Quarrel, to give him a proof of the ſtrength of my Arm. I thought it not fit to bring you in for a ſhare, becauſe I would not inter⯑rupt your Application to ſerve the Counteſs. The Marqueſs lifting up his Eyes to Heaven: Oh! my Lord, ſaid he, you know but one part of what occaſion of Complaint Edward has given us.

They ſeated themſelves under ſome Trees, where ſeeing themſelves at full liberty to enter⯑tain one another, the Marqueſs related to his Brother the carrying away by force, of the Coun⯑teſs, with all the Circumſtances relating to this unhappy Accident. You ſee, continued he, this black Armour, it relates to the Counteſs; I went with the ſame Deſign as you do, to break a La [...]nce with the King, and the worthleſs Pembroke, if his Wounds he received there are cured; truly I expected your coming with much impatience, in or⯑der to act in concert againſt our common Enemies, for our mutual Satisfaction. Whilſt the Marqueſs was talking, the Earl had a thouſand direful Projects in his Head, which gave him no liberty [...]o ſpeak; at laſt recovering himſelf, he began [...]o call Heaven and Earth to witneſs, that he would revenge himſelf in ſuch a manner as never [132] any Subject was known to have done before. Can he be thus ungrateful (cry'd he) unto whom he is bebolden for the Crown of England? I did not only put it upon his Head, but alſo have kept it ſteddy there: In return whereof, he puts two ſuch Bloody Affronts upon me, ſuch as he ought not to have put upon an Enemy. Let us go, Bro⯑ther, to the Tournament; if he appears in the Liſt, let's join our ſtrength to attack him; and provi⯑ded we die not unrevenged, never let us regret our Deſtiny.

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

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

The Earl Rivers, my Lord Haſtings Duke of Exeter, my Lord High Chamberlain, my Lord Deſcalles the Queens Brother in Law, John Earl of Oxford, John de Moubray, Duke of Norfolk and Humphrey Duke of Buckingham, had taken their Stations along the Barriers, expecting the coming of the Baſtard of Burgundy, with his young Nobility. But whilſt they ſtay'd for their [133] Company, the Earl of Warwick and his Brother ſent a Herauld to bid defiance to my Lord De⯑ſcalles and the Earl Rivers; offering they were ready to maintain, that the Queens Beauty, and all the Ladies at Court, was not comparable to that of the Lady they ſerv'd. So diſobliging a Defiance ſurprized the Herald no leſs than all the Knights I mention'd before; and the News there⯑of being ſoon brought to the King and Queen, they bluſh'd for ſpite, ſaying, ‘'They muſt be very impolite Perſons, who would affront ſo many Ladies:'’ However, the right of freedom being inviolable, eſpecially at ſuch like publick Feaſts, it was not judged proper to make uſe of any violent means againſt theſe Knights; be⯑ſides that, there appeared a certain Grandeur in all their Actions, as cauſed a Reſpect in all thoſe that beheld them. The Queen order'd the Earl Rivers to be call'd: ‘'Brother, ſaid ſhe⯑with a great deal of Modeſty, were I alone con⯑cern'd in this Defiance, I would not adviſe you to eſpouſe ſo bad a Cauſe; but your own Wife and ſo many other fair and charming Perſons having their ſhare in the Challenge, you ought to undertake it with Reſolution and Courage, as for the Conditions, I leave them to your own Diſcretion.'’ ‘'Madam, ſaid the King inter⯑rupting her, No body is better able to do it than myſelf; I will eſpouſe the Quarrel of that Beauty I adore; the Earl Rivers ſhall be my ſecond.'’ ‘'No, Sir, cry'd the Queen, en⯑deavouring to keep him back, I beg of you by all that is good, to remain only a Spectator, and let it fall out as it will, I ſhall be well ſa⯑tisfied with the Honour your Majeſty intended to do me.'’ The King had not patience enough to mind what ſhe ſaid, but taking his Armour⯑entred [134] the Liſt. So ſoon as he appear'd, the Barriers were opened, under the Sound of Trum⯑pets and other War-like Inſtruments, which re⯑ſounded from all Parts; and the King having not, as yet, mounted his Horſe, the Earl of Warwick and the Marqueſs of Montague alighted from their Horſes likewiſe, and drawing nearer, ‘'Knights ſaid the King, you come to my Court to maintain the Beauty of an unknown Lady, againſt that of the Queen and her Ladies. 'Tis poſſible, that either out of Complaiſance, or to do the Lady Juſtice, the point might be gran⯑ted you, if one could ſee her; but who is able to decide it?'’ 'You yourſelf, Sir, ſaid the Earl of Warwick, caſting ſuch [...]oks at him, as were more piercing than Lightning itſelf, I am apt to believe you have not forgot her; and then ſhew'd him the Counteſs of Devonſhire's Pi⯑cture. The King was ſo ſurprized and cha [...]d at the ſight thereof, that he remain'd doub [...] for ſome time, whether he ſhould continue to defend the Queens Beauty, or join with the Knights on the Counteſſes ſide: Sometimes he look'd upon the Picture, ſometimes upon [...] two unknown; and conſidering the whole, he could not but gueſs the Earl of Warwick to have a hand in the Game, ſo bold an Action as this could not be well attributed to any other Perſon but himſelf. ‘'I doubt, ſaid he, whether the La⯑dy whoſe Picture you ſhew, would own you for her Knights, if ſhe know what uſe you made of it; ſhe bears too much Reſpect to the Queen, and is too polite a Perſon, to inſult her and all other Ladies Beauty. I have ſaid no⯑thing in her Name Sir, reply'd the Earl fier [...]ly, but I come to ask whether you will declare a⯑gainſt her? I ſhould be very vnwilling to do ſo, were it upon any other Occaſion but this, [135] ſaid the King; but as the Caſe ſtands, I am re⯑ſolved I will, prepare for your Defence, we will break each of us three Launces, and he that gets the Honour of the Combat ſhall carry off the Picture of the vanquiſh'd Lady. This is not ſufficient for us, Sir, reply'd the Earl of Warwick; we muſt carry off more than one Pi⯑cture to the Lady whoſe Knights we are, and therefore humbly deſire your Majeſty, that all thoſe that appear in Arms there, at the Barri⯑ers, may enagage againſt us; if they are van⯑quiſh'd, they are to give us the Pictures of their Ladies; if we are, we will give them that of ours.'’ The King beckned them to draw near, being unwilling to anſwer for them be⯑fore he had ſpoke to them, but they were all ready to accept the offer. Every one had a Pi⯑cture about him, ſome of their Wives, ſome of their Miſtreſſes. The King was the firſt who put the Queens Picture upon a Triumphal Arch, erected in one of the Corners of the Barrier. The Earl Rivers alſo ſet up that of his, Leonore Digby, and all the reſt produced their Pictures in golden Caſes.

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

The Queen and all her Ladies could not ſee this ill Succeſs, but with the utmoſt Diſſatisfaction, and had it been in their Power to play an ill Game, they would perhaps not have been ſpa⯑ing [136] in it at this Juncture. To be ſhort, the Earl and his Brother gained all the honour of the Combat, but would not take the Queen's Picture, which by moſt was ſuppoſed to be done out of reſpect, without conſidering it might be out of an Averſion to her perſon. As for her own part, ſhe knew very well the reaſon of it; ſhe had diſcovered her particular Enemy in the per⯑ſon of the Kninht with the Black Armour, and the Device painted on his Shield ſerved her for an Interpreter of his Actions. The King and the Earl Rivers went out of the Liſt much vex'd at their ill Succeſs; tho' the reſt who engaged with the Earl of Warwick, and the Marqueſs of Montague, met with no better fortune.

They loſt every one his Picture, but the Vi⯑ctorious Knights would not take all the advan⯑tage they might have done, they return'd to the Knights their Pictures, without ſo much as o⯑pening the Caſes to look upon them, except thoſe belonging to the Duke of Exeter and the Earl of Oxford, their Brothers-in-law, whoſe Pi⯑ctures they carry'd away. In the mean time the Baſtard of Burgundy being advanced to the Bar⯑riers, had been a Spectator of the Dexterity of the two brave unknown to his great admiration; this made him ask permiſſion of the Princeſs of York to maintain her Beauty againſt them; but ſhe refuſed to conſent to it, finding by what ſhe had ſeen already that her Picture would meet with the ſame Fate as all the reſt had done. She told him with a great deal of modeſty, She was not ambitious, and deſired him to remember that he being her Knight, was to engage with my Lord Deſcalles. Theſe few words being recei⯑ved by the Burgundian with the utmoſt reſpect, he broke ſeveral Launces in honour of the Prin⯑ceſs, and his Knights ſhew'd their utmoſt Dex⯑terity [137] againſt the Engliſh; but nothing was per⯑ [...]rm'd on either ſide, that could come in compe⯑ [...]tion with the Atchievements of the Earl of Warwick.

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

The Earl of Warwick and his Brother went back to Sion hill, from whence they firſt diſ⯑patch'd Berincour to old Albine, to find out and talk with her in private: For as ſhe ſtill li⯑ved with the Counteſs of Angleſey, ſo he hoped by her means to hear ſome News of the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire. So ſoon as he was gone, the Earl and the Marqueſs opened the two Picture-Caſes they had carry'd off as Victors; great was their ſurprize when they found the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire's Picture in that of the Earl of Oxford's. I muſt needs own to you, ſaid the Earl, ſhewing the Picture to the Marqueſs of Montague, that I did not approve of my Si⯑ſters [138] Jealouſie againſt her Husband, but now find ſhe was not in the wrong. How is it poſſible, my Lady Devonſhire ſhould have ſo much regard to the Earl of Oxford, as to beſtow ſuch a Pledge upon him? How unfortunate am I? anſwered the Marqueſs of Montague, I will do her more ju⯑ſtice than you. Queſtionleſs the Earl of Oxford has got this Picture without her knowledge, in the ſame manner as I obtained mine, which was like⯑ly to have occaſioned a Duel betwixt us. Oh! Bro⯑ther, what comfort you give me! I muſt now con⯑feſs to you, that never any thing went more near me than the ſight of her Picture in your hands. I would not be inquiſitive, for fear of diſcompoſing you by my Curioſity; but I can't forbear to tell you, I have been very jealous upon that account. Alas! My Lord, what need you fear? reply'd the Marqueſs with a melancholy Air, don't you know you are beloved? He ſaid no more, but remain⯑ed very penſive. Do you look upon my preſent Condition, ſaid the Earl, as to be envy'd by any? don't you know what treatment I meet with? All my hopes are vaniſh'd, by my having fought and kill'd her Husband. Had he kill'd me, I had been much happier than I am now, for there is no tor⯑ment comparable to mine. The Marqueſs lifted up his Eyes towards Heaven, as if he would ſay, He had more cauſe of Complaint than he. After a few moments ſilence, the Earl ask'd the Mar⯑queſs's advice, How he had beſt to carry on mat⯑ters at Court? I adviſe you, ſaid he to him, to make your Appearance there, to remove all man⯑ner of ſuſpicion, which will enable you the better to take your own meaſures. I ſhall regulate my Conduct, reply'd my Lord Warwick, in a great meaſure according to what News I ſhall receive of your dear Counteſs, and therefore will ſtay [139] two days longer at Sion-hill before I go to Lon⯑don; which the Marqueſs approved of.

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

The Earl of Warwick gave the Billet to the Marqueſs to peruſe it, who told him, I muſt confeſs to you, my Lord, I was in a moſt terrible fear, ſince almoſt nothing leſs than a miracle could ſecure the Counteſs from the danger ſhe was in. Relate to us the Particulars, continued the Marqueſs, addreſſing himſelf to Berincour. My Lord, ſaid the Gentleman, I ſaw Albine, ſhe made at firſt a thouſand difficulties to ſpeak with any freedom concerning the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire; but knowing her Mercenary Temper, I [...] her, that I had a very fine Ring made for her on purpoſe in France, which I intended to preſent her with. This revived her former Confidence. Could I ſuppoſe, ſaid ſhe to him, you would marry me, and that this Ring was to be the Pledge of your Faith, I would accept it with pleaſure; but I am ſure you have been ſo taken up with your [140] Maſter's Buſineſs, that you have thought but little of me; and when I ſee my ſelf thus uſed, I have no more to ſay to you. I promiſed every thing ſhe would have me to do, continued Berincour, and underſtood that my Lady Devonſhire was in one of the moſt abſtruſe Cloſets in the Vault when the King and the Earl of Pembroke came thither. They put her into a moſt terrible fright whilſt they were ſearching for her, till the King being gone, and the Earl of Pembroke ſtaying behind, ſhe (mo⯑ved by Deſpair) unexpectedly ſallied out in her Man's habit, and with Sword and Piſtol in hand having opened her ſelf a paſſage, went to an old Friend of their Family. There reflecting upon the danger ſhe had ſo lately eſcaped, ſhe took a Reſo⯑lution of ſeeing her Brother, and by his means [...] endeavour to find a ſafe Refuge in her own Fa⯑mily.

My Lord Stanley dearly loved his Siſter, and had been much concern'd at her misfortune, and if the Earl and Counteſs of Angleſey ſhould conti⯑nue in their Anger againſt their Daughter, they muſt needs expect to ſee her expoſed to moſt ha⯑zardous Accidents. My Lord Stanley knew how to repreſent this Point to them in ſuch tender and preſſing terms, that at laſt they agreed to receive and protect her againſt all her Enemies, provided ſhe would for the future follow their advice, ne⯑ver ſee the Earl of Warwick again, and retire into a Religious Houſe, as long as they ſhould think convenient. My Lord Stanley was ſo deſirous to ſee his Siſter at reſt, that he accepted of all the Conditions impoſed upon her by the Coun⯑teſs of Angleſey. And the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire willing to comply with them, threw her ſelf at her Mother's feet, and regain'd that tender⯑neſs which ſhe had loſt by her misfortunes. She is, continued Albine, in an Abbey, where I can't let [141] you ſee her, but I will ſpeak to her to morrow con⯑cerning the Earl of Warwick. Accordingly ſhe brought me the Billet to my Lord, I juſt now de⯑livered to you, and told me, that my Lady Devon⯑ſhire conjures you not to take the leaſt ſtep in or⯑der to come near her; there being nothing in the World more oppoſite to her intention. Well then, cry'd the Earl, (interrupting Berincour) the Coun⯑teſs had at laſt the good fortune to eſcape the King's and his worthleſs Favourites hands. I be⯑begin to breath a little, for I muſt own to you, Brother, I was very ingenious in tormenting my ſelf. A ſecret Jealouſie I was not able to ma⯑ſter, did gnaw my heart, and caſt me into an Abyſs of Melancholy thoughts. My ſufferings are beyond yours, my Lord, reply'd the Marqueſs, for I was ſo dextrous in fancying ſomething ſo cruel in this Adventure, as rendred me quite inconſola⯑able. The Earl return'd no anſwer to his Brother, but after a few minutes Silence it was agreed betwixt them that they would go to Court the next day.

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

'Twas done, Sir, ſaid ſhe to him, in defyance to you, and to expoſe your Choice, when they ſet up the Beauty of the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire againſt me. The King moſt tenderly lo⯑ved the Queen, and was not well pleaſed with the Earl of Warwick's having got ſo much the better of him at the Tournament: ſo that inſtead of endeavouring a favourable Reception, to make [142] him forget the affront he had put upon him, in preferring Iſabella Woodville to the Princeſs of Savoy, that the furniſh'd freſh matter of Com⯑plaint to the Earl, who now took a reſolution to revenge himſelf by the utter deſtruction of the ſame Monrach he had placed on the Throne. The better to encompaſs this deſign, he entred into a ſtrict Friendſhip with the Duke of Cla⯑rence, one of the King's Brothers, who marry'd one of his Daughters, who was very young, but the richeſt Heireſs in England. The Marriage was conſummated at Calais, whilſt the Archbi⯑ſhop of York and the Marqueſs of Montague did their utmoſt efforts to ſtrengthen their Party in England.

The Earl of Warwick after his return from Calais raiſed a good Army, directing his March ſtraight to London, with a deſign to Depoſe Edward, and place Henry on the Throne again. Edward was not a little ſurprized at this unex⯑pected News; for tho' he was one of the b [...] ⯑veſt Princes in the World, he was apt to indulge himſelf too much in the enjoyment of his Plea⯑ſures; truſting to his good Fortune, which hi⯑therto had made him Triumph over all his Ene⯑mies. But now finding the danger at hand, he ordered the Earl of Pembroke to draw together with all poſſible ſpeed, what Troops he could, and to march againſt the rebels. The Earl was very well pleaſed with this Commiſſion, for he could not forgive the Earl of Warwick, to have a bet⯑ter ſhare in the Counteſs of Devonſhire's heart than himſelf; he made Richard Herbert his Bro⯑ther General under him; and when the Earl of Warwick underſtood he was to fight againſt them, this ſerv'd only to augment his Hatred and Emulation; a thouſand brave Actions paſs'd betwixt them, (recorded in Hiſtory) till at laſt [143] a Battel was fought near Bambridge, wherein the Earl of Warwick's Forces were upon the point of turning their backs, when John Clapam, an old brave Souldier and faithful Servant to that Family, putting himſelf at the head of 500 or 600 Northampton Men, carrying a white Bear, (being the Earl's Arms) in their Banners, return⯑ing to the Charge with a loud Huzza, crying, Long live Warwick, put the King's Army into ſuch a Conſternation, that they betook themſelves to flight. The Earl of Pembroke and his Brother, unwilling to ſurvive this Diſgrace fought it out to the laſt Man, and were both taken Pri⯑ſoners by the Victorious Enemy. The ſame mis⯑fortune attended the Earl Rivers. The Counteſs Rivers, who had an infinite deal both of tender⯑neſs and and acknowledgment for him, could not be at eaſe all the time of his abſence, dread⯑ing the various Chances of War; but when ſhe heard he was taken Priſoner, ſhe was upon the point of running diſtracted. King Edward had uſed his Priſoners ſo rigorouſly, and the Execu⯑tion of Henry Duke of Somerſet was as yet in ſo freſh a remembrance, that ſhe did not queſtion but that her Husband would be ſacrificed to what they call Reaſon of State, and to the Perſonal Averſion betwixt the Queen and the Earl; ſhe could think of no better expedient to ſhelter her ſelf againſt this impending Storm, than to have recourſe to the Authority of the Counteſs of Devonſhire. She went to her in the Nunnery where ſhe then was: ‘'Alas! Madam, ſaid ſhe to her, you ſee here before you the unfortu⯑nate Leonore, who is come to implore your Compaſſion in behalf of the Earl Rivers. He is in the hands of the Earl of Warwick, and 'tis fear'd he will accept of no Ranſome for his Priſoners. Judge what a condition I am [144] in, I conjure you to uſe your Interceſſion for the preſervation of a perſon who is guilty of no other Crime than of having ſerved his King, and being the Queen's Brother. Secure his Life againſt that dreadful ſtroke that threatens it; and in asking you his, I ask you my own Life. Madam, won't you make uſe of your Intereſt? Have you forgot, that had it not been for me, Jamy had been ſacrificed to the jealouſie of that ill favoured Digby? I am ſen⯑ſible, Madam, reply'd the Counteſs, how much I am indebted to you, and embracing her ten⯑derly, you need not, ſaid ſhe, urge ſuch mo⯑tives of Gratitude, to engage me to do all that is in my power; Let us not loſe one moment, Madam, for in ſuch like caſes every minute is precious.'’ She then writ a Letter to the Earl of Warwick, the moſt engaging ſhe ever ſent to him, and giving it to the Counteſs of Rivers, adviſed her not to loſe one moment.

The Counteſs ſent the ſwifteſt Courier ſhe could find out, but by the higheſt of misfortune he arrived at that very moment when the Earl's Head was juſt lopp'd off. My Lady Devonſhire's Requeſt having the force of an irreſiſtible Com⯑mand with the Earl of Warwick, he run ſtraight to the Tent where this Illuſtrious Priſoner was kept under a Guard: ‘'You are obliged for eve⯑ry thing, my Lord, to the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire, ſaid the Earl, as he was juſt upon en⯑tring the Tent, ſhe orders me to give you your Liberty, enjoy the good Fortune ſhe has be⯑ſtow'd upon you.'’ The Earl not appearing, and thoſe that heard him ſpeak fearing they had been too haſty in his Execution, no body durſt ſay one word, but they judged by their ſilence that it was too late. He was grieved to the heart, this being the only favour the Counteſs of Devon⯑ſhire [145] ever ask'd him, and which was in his pow⯑er to grant; lifting up his eyes towards Heaven, ‘'How unfortunate am I, cry'd he! All the un⯑happy Accidents centre in me. O Barbarous Laws of an irreconcilable War, which makes us forget the very Notions of Humanity! what exceſs don't you conſtrain me to commit?'’ His heart being full of affliction, he writ a Letter to the Counteſs of Devonſhire in his juſtification, in not having been able to obey her Com⯑mands.

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

[146] The Earl of Pembroke and his Brother Richard Herbert, both the Earl of Warwick's Priſoners, being alſo condemned by him to loſe their Heads, the Earl of Pembroke deſired to ſpeak with him; ‘''Tis not, ſaid he to him, to ask you my life I wanted to ſee you, I ſhould be vex'd to owe you ſo great an Obligation, and thereby to diminiſh in the leaſt the hatred I bear you; but, my Lord, what is it my Brother had done? Has he been the cauſe of our being Rivals? His Youth, his Courage, his Birth, every thing intercedes with you in his behalf. Am not I a Victim ſufficient to allay your revenge? I ſhall have no⯑thing to reproach to you, as you will not have any thing to reproach to me, and thus far we ſhall be even with one another. The condition you are reduced to, my Lord, reply'd the Earl of Warwick, would ſoon engage me to forget your treacherous dealings with me, were my own particular Intereſt concern'd only, but I can't pardon you without acting contrary to the Laws of this War. Had I faln into your hands, you would certainly have treated me as I am going now to treat you. Yes, my Lord, reply'd the Earl of Pembroke fiercely, I ſhould have taken all poſſible care to rid my hands of you: But pray examine without par⯑tiality, your caſe and mine; you were always my Rival, you were always beloved, whereas I always met with an ill treatment; alas! what ſufferings have I not undergone upon that ac⯑count? You are the only cauſe of them where⯑as you can have no other reaſon on your ſide, than the eagerneſs you have of ſacrificing an unfortunate perſon, who cheriſh'd the ſame thing that you did, but in taking away my Life you do me a kindneſs againſt your own will. 'Tis ſo long ago ſince it is become odious to [147] me, that I deſire nothing elſe than death; and I deſire you to order them to diſpatch with all ſpeed. But the caſe is quite different with my Brother: Alas! what has he committed againſt you? He ſerved his King his Benefactor, with⯑out knowing any thing of our Perſonal Quarrel, and my Sentiments for the Counteſs: Would not you have fought under the ſame Banners, had not you a particular cauſe of complaint a⯑gainſt Edward? And did not you place him on the ſame Throne, from whence you now in⯑tend to pull him again? My Lord, ſaid the Earl of Warwick, interrupting him, upon this occaſion my private Animoſity has not the leaſt ſhare in what I am going about to do, but 'tis reaſon of State that forbids me to grant your Requeſt; I muſt be forced to leave you, for I find it impoſſible to reſiſt any longer your Intreaties.'’ So away he went, fearing leſt compaſſion ſhould ſo far prevail upon him as to prevent him from Sacrificing to the Counteſs of Devonſhire, a per⯑ſon who endeavoured her Ruin.

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

King Edward highly ſenſible of his late Diſ⯑grace, gathered the ſcattered remnants of his Troops, unto which he join'd ſome new Levies; but notwithſtanding this, finding himſelf too weak to cope with his Enemy, he propoſed an Accommodation, and living in hopes of a good iſſue, little care was taken in his Camp to keep the Souldiers to their Duty. The Earl advertiſed thereof, took the advantage of a dark Night, [148] kill'd all he found in Arms, and ſeeing himſelf ſoon Maſter of the Camp, advanced directly to the King's Tent, and found him faſt aſleep. I give you leave to gueſs at this Monarch's Sur⯑prize, when by the Light of the Flambeaux he ſaw the Earl of Warwick compleatly arm'd with his Sword drawn, who threw open his Curtains, with a bold Countenance, and with Eyes ſpark⯑ling with fire and anger. The King ſoon percei⯑ving it was too late to make any Reſiſtance: ‘'You are Victorious, ſaid he to him, with a firm and ſteady look, I am your Priſoner; but hope, my Lord, you will make no ill uſe of your good Fortune. I know what Reſpect I owe you, Sir, reply'd the Earl modeſtly; would to God your Majeſty had alſo known what you ow'd to ſuch a Servant as I was. Earl, my misfortunes are too grievous, ſaid the King; don't upbraid me; you have no real cauſe of Complaint againſt me, unleſs it be on account of my Marriage; and I think no Man in the Univerſe ought to be a better Judge of the Power of a Love paſſion than your ſelf. But to convince you what a good opinion I ſtill have of you, I conjure you that if the Queen happens to fall into your hands, you will treat her according to her Rank and Virtue. Sir, re⯑ply'd the Earl, the high Station unto which your Majeſty has exalted her, and her Sex, are ſuch ſtrict Engagements to me, as ſhe ſhall ne⯑ver want my Reſpect.'’ Edward fetch'd a deep ſigh, ſaid not a word more, and with a profound melancholy in his face follow'd his Conqueror, who confined him in the Caſtle of Warwick; but upon further conſideration, not thinking him ſufficiently ſecured there, he deſired the Archbi⯑ſhop of York to receive and keep him in the Ca⯑ſtle [149] of Medelan, and ſo he made all the haſte he could to London.

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

‘'My Lord, ſaid the Counteſs, I need not con⯑ſider long of the Anſwer I am to give you con⯑cerning the offer you make me. 'Tis not the Luſtre of a Crown that cou'd entice me, I never thought you would have been in a con⯑dition to give it; but, to do all the Juſtice I can to your Merit, my Lord, I will not en⯑large any farther upon that Subject, for fear of diſcovering to you the utmoſt extent of my [150] Misfortunes, when I am forced by my Duty, and out of Decency, to refuſe a Spouſe who would be the only Happineſs of my Life. Oh! Madam, cry'd the Earl, fetching a deep Sigh, don't ſweeten by ſuch obliging Expreſſi⯑ons, the bitterneſs of your cruel refuſal; you would find out Reaſons enough to perſuade you to give me your Hand, were not mine odious to you; and ſo you will rather refuſe the Kingdom I offer, than reign along with me. After all this, Madam, I have nothing elſe to do, but to think of dying; I will be as for⯑ward in courting all opportunities to loſe my Life, as I would have been careful to avoid them, had your Sentiments proved more fa⯑vourable to me.'’ ‘'Go on, my Lord, make ſure Work to overwhelm me with Reproaches, reply'd the Counteſs, call my Words in queſti⯑on, doubt, ſince you force me to tell it, doubt of the Poſſeſſion of my Heart, doubt whether I love you beyond any thing living.'’ ‘'Alas! anſwered the Earl, interrupting her, how ſhall I be convinced of it? you have ſo much good⯑neſs as not to diſpatch me at once, you re⯑ſerve me for a languiſhing Martyrdom; but I am not able to reſiſt long the Torments of your Refuſal, I ſhall certainly pay for them with my Life.'’ Their whole Converſation run upon Prayers and Reproaches, aſſurances of Friendſhip and Juſtifications. At laſt they parted, equally over-charg'd with Grief; the Counteſs being ſeiz'd with the moſt violent Inquietude that could be, for her dear Earl; the Part he was to act was of ſuch vaſt Conſequence, as was likely to expoſe him to ſo many Dangers, that the fair Lady could not but be greatly allarm'd thereat.

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

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

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

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

The Earl of Warwick expected with much im⯑patience, the return of Berincour. The Coun⯑teſſes Letter was ſo poſitive, that finding no Hopes to flatter himſelf that ſhe would come to Calais, he found his Safety to depend on his [153] diſpatch of going thither without her. So he [...]eft the Coaſt of England, condoling the Coun⯑teſs of Devonſhire's Condition, and ſometimes reproaching her want of Reſolution. Soon after he came in ſight of the Harbour of Calais, where inſtead of being admitted into the Place, he had occaſion to make trial of thoſe ill chances of Fortune which are the ordinary attendants of unfortunate Perſons. He had made one Vauclere, a Gentleman of Gaſcony, Governour of the Place in his Abſence. This Man underſtanding the Diſgrace of his Benefactor, was ſo far from open⯑ing the Gates to him, that he play'd his Cannon upon the Ships of the Earl of Warwick, which he had infallibly ſunk, had they not immediate⯑ly made off to Sea.

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

Having ſpent ſome time to refreſh themſelves, and the Dutcheſs of Clarence finding herſelf ſtrong enough to undertake (in Company with her Father, her Husband and Siſter) a Journey to [254] Amboiſe, where King Lewis XI. then kept his Court: they met with ſo favourable a Recepti⯑on from that Monarch, that they had all the rea⯑ſon in the World to hope for his Protection; for the King did not in the leaſt doubt but that the Earl being ſenſible of the Affront put upon him in the Negotiation of the Match of the Princeſs of Savoy, as well as upon that illuſtri⯑ous Lady, had upon that ſcore revolted from England; and the Earl ſoon had intelligence, that Charles Duke of Burgundy had been ſo bold as to threaten King Lewis with a bloody War, if he ſupported them: But that Prince thinking his Honour concerned in this Quarrel, reſolved to eſpouſe it publickly.

Margaret of Anjou, Spouſe to that unfortu⯑nate King who was kept Priſoner by King Ed⯑ward, led a melancholy Life in France, this being the only place from whence ſhe hoped to retain ſome ſuccours to recover the Throne: She was not unacquainted with the Earl of Warwick's Deſign to ſerve her Spouſe; ſo that to ſhew her acknowledgement, ſhe came in Perſon to viſit and return him Thanks. The Dutcheſs of Cla⯑rence being ſtill much out of order, by reaſon of the Fatigues of her late Journey, the Queen would alſo pay her a Viſit, accompany'd by her Son. This young Prince's Stature was already much beyond his Age, and his Beauty and noble Air, were infallible Signs of his high Birth. The Queen and the Dutcheſs of Clarence ſhed abundance of Tears, ſo that the remembrance of their Misfortunes for a conſiderable time would not permit them to think or to talk of any thing elſe: But ſo ſoon as the Queen was a little at leiſure, and caſt her Eyes upon Ann Nevil, Daughter to the Earl of Warwick, and younger Siſter to the Dutcheſs, ſhe ſtood amazed at her [155] moſt raviſhing Beauty; and the Prince of Wales [...] Son felt the effects thereof as ſoon as he [...]w her; and tho' he was otherwiſe Maſter of [...] refin'd and pleaſing Wit, yet he could do no⯑ [...]ing at this time but confine himſelf to a bare [...]dmiration, without being able to entertain her, [...] he could have wiſh'd to do.

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

The hopes of their ſpeedy return into England at the Head of a good Army, afforded a ſecret ſatisfaction as well to the Queen as to the Earl: The better to cement their Union, they viſited one another every Day, and made private Feaſts, in which the Prince of Wales made all his Appli⯑cation to my Lady Anne, whom he often rega⯑led with Flowers and Garlands, with an Air ſuf⯑ficently diſcovering his Fear and Confuſion; and as ſhe receiv'd them not without ſome Emo⯑tion, ſo they talk'd but little when they were together, but were both uneaſie when aſunder. The Prince of Wales haſt flattered himſelf, that my Lady Anne would go along with the Queen his Mother, who intended to go into England; but underſtanding the Earl of Warwick did not think it convenient they ſhould leave the French Court, he was ready to die with Grief: The firſt Motions of a Paſſion are ſtronger and more reſpectful than all the reſt. He would tremble when he ſat down by her; and how deſirous ſoever he was to ſpeak to her, he durſt not ven⯑ture [156] at it: His Inquietudes, and the continual Scruples that afflicted his Mind, produced ſuch a change in him, that he was ſcarce to be known: The Queen of England was frightned thereat, and the whole Court took notice of it.

The Dutcheſs of Clarence frequently keeping her Chamber, my Lady Anne was commonly with her; ſo that when the Queen came to ſee and talk with her, the Prince of Wales at laſt took the boldneſs to entertain his Lady. Madam, ſaid he one Day to her, notwithſtanding my being reduced to a languiſhing Condition, I am ſprightly enough not to neglect any thing that relates to you; I have been very careful to ſend to Madam (the Dutcheſs of Orleans) for your Caſe. That is to ſay, reply'd my Lady, that her Lottery is drawn; I muſt own, I ſhould be exceeding glad to have a Prize, becauſe I ſhould look upon it as a good Omen to our Affairs. There are in this Lottery ſo many different Prizes, ſaid the Prince, that perhaps that which falls to our Lot may not be pleaſing to you. Nay, 'tis true, ſaid ſhe with a low Voice, that if there be any extraordinary Jewel to be had, Madam will endeavour it ſhall fall to the Count of Beanjeut's ſhare. And have you taken notice, continued the Prince, that ſhe [...] ſome particular Sentiments for him? Truly, ſaid ſhe, one need not be a Witch to gueſs at her Sentiments in that regard; beſides that, I hear my Father talking ſo often with my Siſter upon that Point, that I dare not challenge the honour of this Diſcovery. But, Signieur, added ſhe, ſatisfie my Curioſity, and let me open the Caſe. So fair a Hand as yours, ſaid he, can't miſs of crawing a good Prize-Ticket. And ſo he preſen⯑ted to her a neat Caſe, or Box, on the top where⯑of was Engraven the God of Silence. Gueſs (ſaid my Lady Anne to him ſmiling) what means this [157] Hieroglyphe? It means, that if we get nothing, we [...]ll ſay nothing; for in this World there is no⯑ [...]hing like hiding ones own Diſgrace. But I Ma⯑dam (cry'd he) ſhould explain it after a quite dif⯑ferent manner; this God of Silence ſignifies, that People who are Contented, ſhould not divulge nor boaſt of their good Fortune. Then you will never talk of yours (ſaid ſhe). No, (continu'd he) Madam, I will never ſpeak of it, no, if I do, it ſhall be to nobody but to you. In the mean while my Lady opening the Box, and pulling out a ſmall Ticket, or Billet: Ah! Prince (cry'd ſhe with a joyful Air) I have got ſomething; and then read theſe following Words: The Prince of Wales's Heart for my Lady Anne.

She was conſidering of what had happened, when the Prince laying hold of this opportunity, Chance has determin'd my Lot, Madam, (ſaid he) and give me leave to improve this happy juncture to make to you a Confeſſion full of Reſpect and Sincerity, which will perhaps meet with Diſdain at your Hands, tho' at the ſame time it makes you ſenſible of the force of your Char [...]s, and of my Paſſion. Why, Signieur, ſhould you imagine I ſhould hear you with ſo much indifferency? Alas! Ma⯑dam, I am very willing to do myſelf Juſtice, (con⯑tinu'd he) I am an unfortunate Prince, without a Crown and without a Kingdom; you deſerve one▪ and I am not in a Condition to offer it to you; but I have a tender and faithful Heart, that adores you. He ſaid no more, not daring to look my Lady in the Face; but as ſhe had never ſeen any thing in her Life ſhe thought more amiable than that young Prince, ſhe told him, with much Modeſty and a graceful Air, Can you imagine, Signieur, I ſhould not remember that you are the Son of a great King, and that ſuch another Re⯑volution as has took you from the Throne, may [158] place you there again, with more luſtre than ever? 'Tis true, Madam, added the Prince, what you ſay is not altogether impoſſible: but, Madam, ſuppoſing I ſhou'd always continue unfortunate, wou'd you not permit me to adore you? My Lady bluſh'd, and told him with a ſmile, ſhe uſed not to anſwer ſuch unneceſſary Queſtions.

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

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

The King told him he would think of it; and upon farther conſideration, judging it for their common Intereſt, to unite the Houſes of Lanca⯑ſter and Warwick, and by this means to make the young Prince Brother-in Law to the Duke of Clarence, he propoſed the match to the Queen of England; who approving of it, the Nuptials were celebrated with much Magnificence, and to [159] the moſt ſenſible Joy and Satisfaction of the new⯑ [...]arried Gouple.

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

The Earl of Warwick was continually ſollici⯑ted to come over into England, where as they told him every thing was ready, they only want⯑ing his Preſence. He fail'd not to give an ac⯑count thereof to the King of France, and the Queen of England; and the Troops which King Lewis intended as Auxiliaries to Queen Marga⯑ret not being as yet ready to embark, it was a⯑greed the Earl ſhould go into England firſt to encourage his Party by his Preſence.

There was one obſtacle in the way, viz. a ſtrong Squadron of Ships of the Duke of Bur⯑gundy's, which were Cruizing on the Engliſh Coaſt, to prevent the Tranſportation of any Troops out of France thither. The Enterprize was hazardous, and the Earl of Warwick had all the reaſon to dread the falling into the hands of the Duke of Burgundy his mortal Enemy. He was ſenſible of the danger, but not ſo far as to think it ſufficient not to venture at it; the ſole con⯑ſideration [160] of coming once more near to his Counteſs being ſufficient to make him haſten his Departure. Providence ſeem'd to take peculiar care of him at that Juncture; the Fleet of the Duke of Burgundy being diſperſed by a Tem⯑peſt juſt when the Earl was got aboard his Ship, he arrived ſafely with all that attended him, without any oppoſition at Dartmouth. He fail'd not to give notice of his Arrival to all his Friends, and publiſh'd a Proclamation, requiring every Man able to bear Arms from Sixteen to Sixty years, ſhould come to join him, to aid him in the Reeſtabliſhment of Henry, who had been unjuſtly Dethroned by the Duke of York, ſo that he ſoon gat himſelf at the head of an Army of Sixty thouſand Men. Upon this unexpected News Edward was awakened out of his Lethar⯑gy, wherein Love and Pleaſure had involved him: His Courage was ſuch as to be able to un⯑dergo a much ſeverer ſhock of Fortune than this. He drew together his Troops; but thoſe being but few in number, he thought it moſt expedi⯑ent to Encamp near the Sea-ſide, the better to take precaution againſt all Events.

This foreſight ſtood him in no ſmall ſtead, for at the ſollicitation of the Marqueſs of Montague (in whom he confided, and who made but an ill uſe of his Truſt upon this occaſion) being deſerted by his little Army, he was forced to think of ſa⯑ving himſelf by Sea. He was then at the Caſtle of Lynn, and hearing them cry every where, Long live Henry, he ordred them to defend the Bridge, till ſuch time he and the Duke of Glou⯑ceſter his Brother could get aboard a Ship, to ſeek for Refuge among their Neighbours. He ſteer'd his Courſe for Flanders, very ill provi⯑ded and attended, wanting even Neceſſaries for ſuſtenance; having carry'd nothing along with [161] him but his Arms wherewith to defend himſelf, or to die like a Man of Courage. What a ſtrange Revolution! ſaid he to the Duke of Glouceſter; we are here ſwimming upon the Sea, without Mo⯑ney, without Friends, and without knowing where to ſeek for Refuge; who would ever put his Con⯑fidence in Fortune? All my hopes is in the Duke of Clarence. Why, Sir, ſaid the Duke of Glou⯑ceſter, is my Brother ſo happy as to be reconciled to you? Has your Majeſty forgiven him his I rea⯑ſon? 'Tis a Secret I dare to intruſt you with, reply'd the King: I have ſent back into France one of the Dutcheſs of Clarence's Women, a perſon of ſo much Senſe and Conduct, that I have left it to her management to negotiate with her Maſter concerning what I have propoſed to him. She has made him ſenſible that nothing can be more dero⯑gatory to the Grandeur of our Houſe, than to be ſerviceable to that of Lancaſter; that his true Intereſt, and that of the Earl of Warwick are quite oppoſite, and that if he will repent heartily, I am ready to pardon him. He has actually done ſo, added Edward; but it is not time yet to de⯑clare himſelf. However, 'tis this that flatters my thoughts, my ſoul fluctuating betwixt hopes and fear, promiſes it ſelf a poſſibility of a hap⯑py return. I am fully perſwaded as well as your Majeſty, ſaid the Duke of Glouceſter, we ſhall ſtill ſee another favourable Revolution, which will recover you that Throne you have loſt.

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

So ſoon as the Marqueſs of Montague was come into his Brother's Camp, they ſhut them⯑ſelves up together, and every body judged no otherwiſe than that this was done in order to take the beſt meaſures they could to improve and [162] purſue ſo happy a beginning. But they were much out in their gueſs. The two Brothers, after ha⯑ving embraced one another, talk'd of nothing but the Counteſs of Devonſhire. The Earl ask'd what News he had of her, with the utmoſt im⯑patience; and the Marqueſs told him, that the King having diſcovered the Place of her Retire⯑ment, went thither and conjured her to let him ſpeak with her, and that for fear of exaſperating him, and dreading ſome ill uſuage if ſhe did not, ſhe had at laſt reſolved to ſee him. ‘'Oh! Brother, what is it you tell me, cry'd the Earl? He is a Prince worthy to be beloved; how I dread this Converſation! I muſt confeſs, re⯑ply'd the Marqueſs, I was as much concern'd at it as you are, and would have given my Life to have been able to interrupt it; but the King was no ſooner come away, but he call'd and told me, I can't forbear to eſteem the Coun⯑teſs, tho' ſhe treats me with ſo much haughti⯑neſs and indifferency. She has ſo great a ſhare of Vertue, that tho' I loſe all hopes of being beloved by her, I can't ceaſe to love. This re⯑lation, ſaid the Marqueſs, proved a comfort to me, to ſuch a degree as you may imagine. I deſired the King to baniſh from his heart a perſon who return'd him nothing but Ingrati⯑tude; and finding he intended to ſee her again, I writ her a Letter, telling her, That if my advice were not ſuſpected by her, I thought ſhe would not do amiſs to retire at ſome grea⯑ter diſtance from London, to avoid further in⯑conveniences. She thank'd me for my care, and immediately after went away with my Lord Stanley and his Lady to Nittingham. How cry'd the Earl, is ſhe ſo near us? Go, go, let us find her out, I can't live without ſeeing her.'’

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

‘'Perſwade my Lady Devonſhire, ſaid the Earl, that if ſhe refuſes my Offer with the ſame ob⯑ſtinacy as ſhe did the laſt time I ſaw her, I ſhall in loſing all hopes of poſſeſſing her, be⯑come [164] quite careleſs of my Life, and only ſtrives to put an end to it by a ſudden death.'’ Berincour overtook the Counteſs at ſome miles diſtance from London, where ſhe ſtaid for a little time; when ſhe faw him, ſhe changed colour, being ſenſible of all the motions that are commonly felt when one expects ſome immediate News from what ones loves.

‘'My Lord is once more Victorious, ſaid ſhe, drawing nearer to the Gentleman, and you may eaſily imagine, I am more rejoyc'd thereat than any other perſon living. It is your own fault, Madam, reply'd Berincour, if you will not convince him of that truth; for hitherto you have given him occaſion to doubt of it.'’ The Counteſs anſwered only with a deep figh, and taking the Letter he preſented to her, ſhe read it over and over, and at laſt repeated the ſame things to Berincour, ſhe had told his Maſter be⯑fore. ‘'I have much more Tenderneſs than Ambition, added ſhe, I am ſenſible of the in⯑finite Deſerts of the Earl of Warwick; I have reaſon to believe he loves me; I preſerve a moſt ſincere acknowledgment for him; I am certain alſo I ſhall never be happy without ei⯑ther his Perſon or his Tenderneſs; but after this frank confeſſion, what can he ask more of me? Is not he the Man who fought my Hus⯑band? is it not he that kill'd him? How is it in my Power to marry him? and if I could give my conſent to it, I am certain I ſhould forfeit his Eſteem.'’ All what Berincour was able to alledge to inſpire other Sentiments into her, proving fruitleſs, he ſaw himſelf obliged to leave her extreamly diſſatisfy'd at this ill Succeſs. She writ to the Earl to thank him for the Honour he did her, and to tell him how much afflicted ſhe was, becauſe her preſent Circumſtances would [165] not permit her to accept of his Offer. So Berin⯑cour left her under a greater affliction than ever ſhe had been ſenſible of before in all her life time.

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

In the mean while the unfortunate Queen Iſa⯑bella, who had not been able to follow King Edward in his flight, underſtanding the News of this ſtrange Revolution, and of the Earl of War⯑wick's approach to London, ſhe ſought for Refuge [166] in the Church of Weſtminſter, againſt her Victo⯑rious but mortal Enemy, where ſhe was deliver⯑ed of the Eldeſt Son ſhe bore to King Edward; who as he bore his Father's Name, ſo he was no loſs unfortunate in his Reign. The Earl under⯑ſtanding what a condition ſhe was reduced to, ſent Berincour to her, to let her know with his utmoſt Reſpect, that ſhe needed fear nothing in a place where he had ſome Authority. But the Queen return'd no anſwer, but by Sobs, Sighs and Tears. Berincour told the Earl, the Queen was in a moſt miſerable condition, and ſtood in need of every thing. He, moved with Compaſſi⯑on, ſent him back immediately to offer her a con⯑ſiderable Sum of Money in a very rich Box: Whatever my Right may be to this Mony, ſaid ſhe, 'tis enough it comes from the Earl of Warwick, for me to refuſe it. The moſt lamentable ſtate I am reduced to, can't make me be ſo forgetful as not to remember him to be our moſt mortal Ene⯑my; Return him his Preſent, he is uſed to be li⯑beral with what is none of his own; witneſs the Crown of Edward he is going to put upon Henry's Head. Madam, ſaid Berincour, may I be ſo bold as to repreſent to your Majeſty, that at all [...] one muſt not [...]en to ones reſentment? [...] accept of my Maſter's Preſent, it may perhaps prove a means to reconcile him to your Intereſt. No, ſaid ſhe, I hope for nothing from a revo [...]ed Subject. In the condition the Royal Family is now reduced to, we can hope for no aſſiſtance but only from Heaven. Thus this Magnanimous Princeſs would not accept of the Earl's Preſent, and re⯑main'd in Weſtminſter Church to ſhelter her ſelf againſt the Violences ſhe dreaded from the Houſe of Lancaſter. So ſoon as the Earl had in the King's Name given the Neceſſary Orders [167] according to the preſent exigency of Affairs, and had diſpatch'd ſeveral Expreſſes to Lewis the Eleventh, and Queen Margaret, to inform them of his good Succeſs, he now began to inform himſelf exactly concerning what Courſe Edward had ſteer'd after his Departure out of England: He was inform'd that he being purſued in the open Sea by Eight Privateers, whom he was not able to engage, was in the utmoſt danger of be⯑ing taken by them, had not a fair Wind ſprung up, and carry'd him to Alemar in the Province of Holland. The Signior Grutze, Governour of the place, was, as good fortune would have it for King Edward, juſt then preſent there, who upon the firſt notice of his Arrival, went aboard himſelf, offering him every thing that was in his Power. My condition is deplorable, ſaid Edward to him, but you receive me with ſo much kindneſs as will make me almoſt inſenſible of my misfor⯑tune. Then turning him to the Maſter of the Ship who had brought him over, he preſented him with his Coat lined with Martin Sables: I give you but a ſlender Reward, ſaid he, but 'tis all I have left. The Captain kiſſing his hand upon his knees, I am too well rewarded, Sir, reply'd he, in having the honour of being ſerviceable to your Majeſty.

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

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

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

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

Soon after was fought the famous Battle of Barnet; the great Actions perform'd there by Edward, by the Earl, and Marqueſs, ſurpaſs'd thoſe of all the reſt: But at laſt Fortune decla⯑red [170] for the King; the Earl's Troops at firſt for⯑ced thoſe of Edward to give way, but theſe re⯑turning to the Charge, put the Earl's Army to flight: Ten thouſand Men were ſlain in the Field of Battle; the Earl of Warwick and the Marqueſs of Montague did all they could to ral⯑ly their Forces, but in vain; and King Edward being in every place where his Preſence was neceſ⯑ſary, animated his Troops by his Example and Words; and eſpying the Earl, ran towards him with his Sword drawn, to decide their perſonal Quarrel upon this Occaſion. But whilſt they were engaging, a whole Troop of Edward's Sol⯑diers fell upon the Earl and mortally wou [...]ded him; the Marqueſs of Montague endeavouri [...]g to reſcue his Brother, underwent the ſame fate. Thus fell theſe two great Men, who were al⯑ways formidable to their Enemies. The Earl of Warwick had obtain'd the Sirname of the Achil⯑les of England, being the darling of the People, and the Terrour of his Enemies; they were uni⯑verſally lamented, King Edward being the only Gainer in this Univerſal Loſs.

Scarce was the Noiſe of this Victory ſpread over the Kingdom, but King Henry's Party left deſtitute of all hopes, Edward had now no more Enemies to encounter but Queen Margaret and the Prince of Wales, lately landed in England with a good body of French; and looking upon the Victory he had obtain'd againſt the Earl of Warwick, as a happy preſage of his future Succeſs againſt the Queen, he engaged them near Tewksbury: This moſt couragious Princeſs fighting at the head of her Troops, like an Amazon, ſaw the Prince of Wales drop dead near her, having receiv'd many Wounds; ſhe threw herſelf upon his Body, en⯑deavouring to ſecure him againſt a vaſt number of Swords directed againſt his Body, but in vain, [171] her only Son was gone; which ſhe perceiving, fought like a deſperate Woman, who was wil⯑ling to loſe her Life upon the ſpot: However, ſhe was taken Priſoner, and the Duke of Somer⯑ſet, of the Royal Blood of the Houſe of Lanca⯑ſter, along with her; the laſt had his Head cut off the next Day by King Edward. Thus Eng⯑land, ſtain'd with the Blood of its Princes, ſa⯑crificed its Subjects to the Fury of an Inteſtine War.

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

The Counteſs of Devonſhire led ſo retired a Life, ever ſince the laſt refuſal of eſpouſing the Earl of Warwick, and this refuſal went ſo near her Heart, that ſhe would not be ſeen, even by thoſe of her own Family; ſhe had bought a lit⯑tle Houſe in one of the moſt ſolitary places of London, which ſhe took ſome delight in fitting up; ſhe cauſed all her Adventures to be drawn in a Cloſet, where the Earl's Picture was drawn in a thouſand Places: She diverted herſelf with Books, Birds, a fine Flower-Garden, and had three Women among her Attendance, who ſung and play'd moſt charmingly upon ſeveral Muſi⯑cal [172] Inſtruments. This Solitude ſhe judged might ſerve inſtead of a Nunnery, for ſhe received no Viſits, and was always employ'd in ſending forth her Prayers and Vows to Heaven, to bleſs the Army of the Earl of Warwick. The Danger ſhe knew he muſt after be expoſed to, would not ſuffer her to live in Tranquillity; for ſometimes ſhe fancied ſhe ſaw him in the midſt of an Army rais'd in haſte, who might eaſily quit his Party, and go over to King Edward: and after all, ſuppoſing no ſuch thing might happen, ſhe dreaded the Event of a deciſive Battle, or ſome other fatal Accident.

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

‘'I am ſenſible of every thing I owe to the Earl, his Idea is always in my Mind, (reply'd the Counteſs) I pray inceſſantly for his Preſervati⯑on, were it even at the expence of my Life; and his Glory, whereby he gains an immortal Crown, ſometimes gives me ſome Notions of Vanity, which is not altogether free from Self-Intereſt; but, Berincour, how dearly do I pay for theſe pleaſing Minutes! for ſoon after I am over-whelm'd with a world of melancholy Thoughts, which make me dread ſome ill [173] Fate, for what I ſo dearly love. A happy In⯑differency is worthy of the Envy of all the World.'’ Her Eyes being fill'd with Tears, ‘'You ſee, continu'd ſhe, you ſee me cry, and I am not able to ſtop my Tears; I am diſturb'd all Night with terrible Dreams: O good God! cry'd ſhe, Would it be poſſible for me to out⯑live my Illuſtrious Friend? Go, return to him, make him ſenſible of my Frailties, recommend to him from me, to be careful of a Life where⯑on depends the Preſervation of my own: Let him come back, let him come back.'’

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

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

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

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

The Extraction of the Counteſs was ſuch, and her Beauty ſo extraordinary, and ſo much cele⯑brated, [175] that there were few People in England that did not hear and lament her Deſtiny. My Lord Stanley, her Brother, who loved her ten⯑derly, being almoſt inconſolable, deſired the King ſhe might be buried in the ſame Tomb with the Earl of Warwick.

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