Incognita; Or, Love and Duty Reconcil'd

by William Congreve

The Letter.

MADAM,

If your fair Eyes, upon the breaking up of this, meet with somewhat too quick a Surprize, make thence, I beseech you, some reflection upon the Condition I must needs have been in, at the suddain Appearance of that Sun of Beauty, which at once shone so full upon my soul. I could not immediately disengage my self from that Maze of Charms, to let you know how unworthy a Captive your Eyes had made through mistake. Sure, Madam, you cannot but remember my Disorder, of which your Innocent (Innocent, though perhaps to me Fatal) Error made a Charitable (but wide) Construction. Your Tongue pursued the Victory of your Eyes, and you did not give me time to rally my poor Disordered Senses, so as to make a tolerable Retreat. Pardon, Madam, the Continuation of the Deceipt, and call it not so, that I appear’d to be other than my self; for Heaven knows I was not then my self, nor am I now my own. You told me something that concern’d me nearly, as to a Marriage my Father design’d me, and much more nearly in being told by you. For Heaven’s sake, disclose not to any Body your Knowledge of me, that I may not be forced to an immediate Act of Disobedience; for if my future Services and inviolate Love, cannot recommend me to your Favour, I shall find more comfort in the cold Embraces of a Grave, than in the Arms of the never so much admired (but by me dreaded) Juliana. Think, Madam, of those severe Circumstances I lie under; and withal I beg you, think it is in your Power, and only in your Power, to make them happy as my Wishes, or much more miserable than I am able to imagine. That dear, inestimable (though undesign’d) Favour which I receiv’d from you, shall this Day distinguish me from the Crowd of your Admirers; that which I really applied to my inward bleeding Wound, the welcom Wound which you have made, and which, unless from you, does wish no Cure; then pardon and have pity on, O Adored Leonora, him, who is your’s by Creation as he is Heaven’s, though never so unworthy. Have pity on

Your
Aurelian.

She read the Letter over and over, then flung it by, then read it again; the Novelty of the Adventure made her repeat her Curiosity, and take more than ordinary Pains to understand it. At last her Familiarity with the Expressions grew to an Intimacy, and what she at first permitted she now began to like. She thought there was something in it a little more serious, than to be barely Gallantry. She wondred at her own Blindness, and fancy’d she could remember something of a more becoming Air in the Stranger than was usual to Lorenzo. This thought was parent to another of the same kind, till a long Chain successively had Birth, and every one somewhat more than other, in Favour of the supposed Aurelian. She reflected upon his Discretion, in deferring the Discovery of himself, till a little time had, as it were, weaned her from her perswasion, and by removing her farther from her Mistake, had prepared her for a full and determinate Convincement. She thought his Behaviour, in personating a Sick Man so readily, upon the first hint was not amiss, and smil’d to think of his Excuse to procure her Handkerchief; and last of all, his sifting out the Means to write to her, which he had done with that Modesty and Respect, she could not tell how to find fault with it.

She had proceeded thus far in a maze of Thought, when she started to find her self so lost to her Reason, and would have trod back again that path of deluding Fancy; accusing her self of Fondness, and inconsiderate Easiness, in giving Credit to the Letter of a Person whose Face she never saw, and whose first Acquaintance with her was a Treachery, and he who could so readily deliver his Tongue of a Lye upon a Surprize, was scarce to be trusted when he had sufficient Time allow’d him to beget a Fiction, and Means to perfect the Birth.

How did she know this to be Aurelian, if he were? Nay farther, put it to the Extremity, What if she should upon farther Conversation with him proceed to Love him? What Hopes were there for her? Or how could she consent to Marry a Man already Destined for another Woman? nay, a Woman that was her Friend, whose Marrying with him was to compleat the happy Reconciliation of Two Noble Families, and which might prevent the Effusion of much Blood likely to be shed in that Quarrel: Besides, she should incurr share of the Guilt, which he would draw upon him by Disobedience to his Father, whom she was sure would not be consenting to it.

’Tis strange now, but all Accounts agree, that just here Leonora, who had run like a violent Stream against Aurelian hitherto, now retorted with as much precipitation in his Favour. I could never get any Body to give me a satisfactory reason, for her suddain and dextrous Change of Opinion just at that stop, which made me conclude she could not help it; and that Nature boil’d over in her at that time when it had so fair an Opportunity to show it self: For Leonora it seems was a Woman Beautiful, and otherwise of an excellent Disposition; but in the Bottom a very Woman. This last Objection, this Opportunity of perswading Man to Disobedience, determined the Matter in Favour of Aurelian, more than all his Excellencies and Qualifications, take him as Aurelian, or Hippolito, or both together.

Well, the Spirit of Contradiction and of Eve was strong in her; and she was in a fair Way to Love Aurelian, for she lik’d him already; that it was Aurelian she no longer doubted, for had it been a Villain, who had only taken his Name upon him for any ill Designs, he would never have slip’d so favourable an Opportunity as when they were alone and in the Night coming through the Garden and broad Space before the Piazza. In short, thus much she resolv’d, at least to conceal the Knowledge she had of him, as he had entreated her in his Letter, and to make particular Remarks of his Behaviour that Day in the Lists, which should it happen to Charm her with an absolute liking of his Person, she resolv’d to dress her self to the best Advantage, and mustering up all her Graces, out of pure Revenge to kill him down right.

I would not have the Reader now be impertinent, and look upon this to be force, or a whim of the Author’s, that a Woman should proceed so far in her Approbation of a Man whom she never saw, that it is impossible, therefore ridiculous to suppose it. Let me tell such a Critick, that he knows nothing of the Sex, if he does not know that Woman may be taken with the Character and Description of a Man, when general and extraordinary, that she may be prepossess’d with an agreeable Idea of his Person and Conversation; and though she cannot imagine his real Features, or manner of Wit, yet she has a general Notion of what is call’d a fine Gentleman, and is prepar’d to like such a one who does not disagree with that Character. Aurelian, as he bore a very fair Character, so was he extreamly deserving to make it good, which otherways might have been to his prejudice; for oftentimes, through an imprudent Indulgence to our Friends merit, we give so large a Description of his excellencies, that People make more room in their Expectation, than the Intrinsick worth of the Man will fill, which renders him so much the more despicable as there is emptyness to spare. ’Tis certain, though the Women seldom find that out; for though they do not see so much in a Man as was promised, yet they will be so kind to imagine he has some hidden excellencies; which time may discover to them, so are content to allow, him a considerable share of their esteem, and take him into Favour upon Tick. Aurelian as he had good Credit, so he had a good Stock to support it, and his Person was a good promising Security for the payment of any Obligation he could lie under to the Fair Sex. Hippolito, who at this time was our Aurelian, did not at all lessen him in appearing for him: So that although Leonora was indeed mistaken, she could not be said to be much in the wrong. I could find in my Heart to beg the Reader’s pardon for this Digression, if I thought he would be sensible of the Civility; for I promise him, I do not intend to do it again throughout the Story, though I make never so many, and though he take them never so ill. But because I began this upon a bare Supposition of his Impertinence, which might be somewhat impertinent in me to suppose, I do, and hope to make him amends by telling him, that by the time Leonora was dress’d, several Ladies of her acquaintance came to accompany her to the place designed for the Tilting, where we will leave them drinking Chocholate till ’tis time for them to go.

Our Cavaliers had by good Fortune provided themselves of two curious Suits of light Armour, finely enammelled and gilt. Hippolito had sent to Poggio Imperiale for a couple of fine led Horses which he had left there with the rest of his Train at his entrance into Florence. Mounted on these and every way well Equipt, they took their way, attended only by two Lacqueys, toward the Church di Santa Croce, before which they were to perform their Exercises of Chivalry. Hippolito wore upon his Helm a large Plume of Crimson Feathers, in the midst of which was artificially placed Leonora’s Handkerchief. His Armour was gilt, and enammell’d with Green and Crimson. Aurelian was not so happy as to wear any token to recommend him to the notice of his Mistress, so had only a Plume of Sky-colour and White Feathers, suitable to his Armour, which was Silver enammelled with Azure. I shall not describe the Habits of any other Cavaliers, or of the Ladies; let it suffice to tell the Reader they were all very Fine and very Glorious, and let him dress them in what is most agreeable to his own Fancy.

Our Gallants entred the Lists, and having made their Obeysance to his Highness, turned round to salute and view the Company. The Scaffold was circular, so that there was no end of the Delightful Prospect. It seem’d a Glory of Beauty which shone around the admiring Beholders. Our Lovers soon perceived the Stars which were to Rule their Destiny, which sparkled a lustre beyond all the inferiour Constellations, and seem’d like two Suns to distribute Light to all the Planets in that Heavenly Sphere. Leonora knew her Slave by his Badge and blushed till the Lilies and Roses in her cheeks had resemblance to the Plume of Crimson and White Handkerchief in Hippolito’s Crest. He made her a low bow, and reined his Horse back with an extraordinary Grace, into a respectful retreat. Aurelian saw his Angel, his beautiful Incognita, and had no other way to make himself known to her, but by saluting and bowing to her after the Spanish mode; she guess’d him by it to be her new Servant Hippolito, and signified her apprehension, by making him a more particular and obliging return, than to any of the Cavaliers who had saluted her before.

The Exercise that was to be perform’d was in general a running at the Ring; and afterwards two Cavaliers undertook to defend the Beauty of Donna Catharina, against all who would not allow her preheminence of their Mistresses. This thing was only designed for show and form, none presuming that any body would put so great an affront upon the Bride and Duke’s Kinswoman, as to dispute her pretentions to the first place in the Court of Venus. But here our Cavaliers were under a mistake; for seeing a large Shield carry’d before two Knights, with a Lady painted upon it; not knowing who, but reading the Inscription which was (in large Gold Letters) Above the Insolence of Competition. They thought themselves obliged, especially in the presence of their Mistresses, to vindicate their Beauty; and were just spurring on to engage the Champions, when a Gentleman stopping them, told them their mistake, that it was the Picture of Donna Catharina, and a particular Honour done to her by his Highness’s Commands, and not to be disputed. Upon this they would have returned to their Post, much concerned for their mistake; but notice being taken by Don Ferdinand of some Show of Opposition that was made, he would have begged leave of the Duke, to have maintained his Lady’s Honour against the Insolence of those Cavaliers; but the Duke would by no means permit it. They were arguing about it when one of them came up, before whom the Shield was born, and demanded his Highness’s Permission, to inform those Gentlemen better of their mistake, by giving them the Foyl. By the Intercession of Don Ferdinand, leave was given them; whereupon a Civil Challenge was sent to the two Strangers, informing them of their Error, and withal telling them they must either maintain it by force of Arms, or make a publick acknowledgment by riding bare headed before the Picture once round the Lists. The Stranger-Cavaliers remonstrated to the Duke how sensible they were of their Error, and though they would not justifie it, yet they could not decline the Combate, being pressed to it beyond an honourable refusal. To the Bride they sent a Complement, wherein, having first begg’d her pardon for not knowing her Picture, they gave her to understand, that now they were not about to dispute her undoubted right to the Crown of Beauty, but the honour of being her Champions was the Prize they fought for, which they thought themselves as able to maintain as any other Pretenders. Wherefore they pray’d her, that if fortune so far befriended their endeavours as to make them Victors, that they might receive no other Reward, but to be crown’d with the Titles of their Adversaries, and be ever after esteem’d as her most humble Servants. The excuse was so handsomely designed, and much better express’d than it is here, that it took effect. The Duke, Don Ferdinand and his Lady were so well satisfied with it as to grant their Request.

While the running at the Ring lasted, our Cavaliers alternately bore away great share of the Honour. That Sport ended, Marshals were appointed for the Field, and every thing in great form settled for the Combat. The Cavaliers were all in good earnest, but orders were given to bring ’em blunted Lances, and to forbid the drawing of a Sword upon pain of his Highness’s Displeasure. The Trumpets sounded and they began their Course: The Ladies’ Hearts, particularly the Incognita and Leonora’s beat time to the Horses Hoofs, and hope and fear made a mock Fight within their tender Breasts, each wishing and doubting success where she lik’d: But as the generality of their Prayers were for the graceful Strangers, they accordingly succeeded. Aurelian’s Adversary was unhorsed in the first Encounter, and Hippolito’s lost both Stirrups and dropt his Lance to save himself. The Honour of the Field was immediately granted to them, and Don Catharina sent them both Favours, which she pray’d them to wear as her Knights. The Crowd breaking up, our Cavaliers made a shift to steal off unmarked, save by the watchful Leonora and Incognita, whose Eyes were never off from their respective Servants. There was enquiry made for them, but to no purpose; for they to prevent their being discovered had prepared another House, distant from their Lodging, where a Servant attended to disarm them, and another carried back their Horses to the Villa, while they walked unsuspected to their Lodging; but Incognita had given command to a Page to dog ’em till the Evening, at a distance, and bring her word where they were latest housed.

While several Conjectures pass’d among the Company, who were all gone to Dinner at the Palace, who those Cavaliers should be, Don Fabio thought himself the only Man able to guess; for he knew for certain that his Son and Hippolito were both in Town, and was well enough pleased with his humour of remaining Incognito till the Diversions should be over, believing then that the surprize of his Discovery would add much to the Gallantry he had shown in Masquerade; but hearing the extraordinary liking that every body express’d, and in a particular manner, the great Duke himself, to the Persons and Behaviour of the unknown Cavaliers, the Old Gentleman could not forbear the Vanity to tell his Highness, that he believed he had an interest in one of the Gentlemen, whom he was pleased to honour with so favourable a Character; and told him what reason he had to believe the one to be his Son, and the other a Spanish Nobleman, his Friend.

This discovery having thus got vent, was diffused like Air; every body suck’d it in, and let it out again with their Breath to the next they met withal; and in half an hours time it was talked of in the House where our Adventurers were lodged. Aurelian was stark mad at the News, and knew what search would be immediately made for him. Hippolito, had he not been desperately in Love, would certainly have taken Horse and rid out of Town just then, for he could make no longer doubt of being discovered, and he was afraid of the just Exceptions Leonora might make to a Person who had now deceived her twice. Well, we will leave them both fretting and contriving to no purpose, to look about and see what was done at the Palace, where their doom was determined much quicker than they imagined.

Dinner ended, the Duke retired with some chosen Friends to a Glass of Wine; among whom were the Marquess of Viterbo and Don Fabio. His Highness was no Stranger to the long Fewd that had been between the two Families, and also understood what Overtures of Reconciliation had been lately made, with the Proposals of Marriage between Aurelian and the Marquess’s Daughter. Having waited till the Wine had taken the effect proposed, and the Company were raised to an uncommon pitch of Chearfulness, which he also encouraged by an Example of Freedom and Good Humour, he took an opportunity of rallying the two grave Signiors into an Accommodation: That was seconded with the praises of the young Couple, and the whole Company joined in a large Encomium upon the Graces of Aurelian and the Beauties of Juliana. The old Fellows were tickled with Delight to hear their Darlings so admired, which the Duke perceiving, out of a Principle of Generosity and Friendship, urged the present Consummation of the Marriage; telling them there was yet one day of publick Rejoycing to come, and how glad he should be to have it improved by so acceptable an Alliance; and what an honour it would be to have his Cousin’s Marriage attended by the Conjunction of so extraordinary a Pair, the performance of which Ceremony would crown the Joy that was then in Agitation, and make the last day vie for equal Glory and Happiness with the first. In short, by the Complaisant and Perswasive Authority of the Duke, the Dons were wrought into a Compliance, and accordingly embraced and shook Hands upon the Matter. This News was dispersed like the former, and Don Fabio gave orders for the enquiring out his Son’s Lodging, that the Marquess and he might make him a Visit, as soon as he had acquainted Juliana with his purpose, that she might prepare her self. He found her very chearful with Donna Catharina and several other Ladies; whereupon the old Gentleman, pretty well warmed with the Duke’s Goodfellowship, told her aloud he was come to crown their Mirth with another Wedding; that his Highness had been pleased to provide a Husband for his Daughter, and he would have her provide her self to receive him to-morrow. All the Company at first, as well as Juliana her self, thought he had rally’d, till the Duke coming in confirmed the serious part of his Discourse. Juliana was confounded at the haste that was imposed on her, and desired a little time to consider what she was about. But the Marquess told her, she should have all the rest of her Life to consider in; that Aurelian should come and consider with her in the Morning, if she pleased; but in the mean time, he advised her to go home and call her Maids to Counsel.

Juliana took her leave of the Company very gravely, as if not much delighted with her Father’s Rallery. Leonora happened to be by, and heard all that passed; she was ready to swoon, and found her self seized with a more violent Passion than ever for Aurelian: Now upon her apprehensions of losing him, her active fancy had brought him before her with all the advantages imaginable, and though she had before found great tenderness in her Inclination toward him, yet was she somewhat surprized to find she really lov’d him. She was so uneasie at what she had heard, that she thought it convenient to steal out of the presence and retire to her Closet, to bemoan her unhappy helpless Condition.

Our Two Cavalier-Lovers had rack’d their Invention till it was quite disabled, and could not make discovery of one Contrivance more for their Relief. Both sat silent, each depending upon his Friend, and still expecting when t’other should speak. Night came upon them while they sate thus thoughtless, or rather drowned in Thought; but a Servant bringing Lights into the Room awakened them: And Hippolito’s Speech, usher’d by a profound Sigh, broke Silence.

‘Well! (said he) what must we do, Aurelian? We must suffer, replied Aurelian faintly. When immediately raising his Voice, he cry’d out, ‘Oh ye unequal Powers, why do ye urge us to desire what ye doom us to forbear; give us a Will to chuse, then curb us with a Duty to restrain that Choice! Cruel Father, Will nothing else suffice! Am I to be the Sacrifice to expiate your Offences past; past ere I was born? Were I to lose my Life, I’d gladly Seal your Reconcilement with my Blood. ‘But Oh my Soul is free, you have no Title to my Immortal Being, that has Existence independent of your Power; and must I lose my Love, the Extract of that Being, the Joy, Light, Life, and Darling of my Soul? No, I’ll own my Flame, and plead my Title too.—But hold, wretched Aurelian, hold, whither does thy Passion hurry thee? Alas! the cruel fair Incognita Loves thee not! She knows not of thy Love! If she did, what Merit hast thou to pretend?—Only Love.—Excess of Love. And all the World has that. All that have seen her. Yet I had only seen her once, and in that once I lov’d above the World; nay, lov’d beyond my self, such vigorous Flame, so strong, so quick she darted at my Breast; it must rebound, and by Reflection, warm her self. Ah! welcome Thought, lovely deluding Fancy, hang still upon my Soul, let me but think, that once she Loves and perish my Despair.

Here a suddain stop gave a Period also to Hippolito’s Expectation, and he hoped now that his Friend had given his Passion so free a vent, he might recollect and bethink himself of what was convenient to be done; but Aurelia, as if he had mustered up all his Spirits purely to acquit himself of that passionate Harangue, stood mute and insensible like an Alarum Clock, that had spent all its force in one violent Emotion. Hippolito shook him by the Arm to rouze him from his Lethargy, when his Lacquey coming into the Room, out of Breath, told him there was a Coach just stopp’d at the Door, but he did not take time to who came in it. Aurelian concluded immediately it was his Father in quest of him; and without saying any more to Hippolito, than that he was Ruined if discovered, took his Sword and slipp’d down a back pair of Stairs into the Garden, from whence he conveyed himself into the Street. Hippolito had not bethought himself what to do, before he perceiv’d a Lady come into the Chamber close veil’d, and make toward him. At the first Appearance of a Woman, his Imagination flattered him with a Thought of Leonora; but that was quickly over upon nearer Approach to the Lady, who had much the Advantage in Stature of his Mistress. He very civilly accosted her, and asked if he were the Person to whom the Honour of that Visit was intended. She said, her Business was with Don Hippolito di Saviolina, to whom she had Matter of Concern to import, and which required haste. He had like to have told her, That he was the Man, but by good Chance reflecting upon his Friend’s Adventure, who had taken his name, he made Answer, that he believed Don Hippolito not far off, and if she had a Moments Patience he would enquire for him.

He went out, leaving the Lady in the Room, and made search all round the House and Garden for Aurelian, but to no purpose. The Lady impatient of his long stay took a Pen and Ink and some Paper which she found upon the Table, and had just made an End of her Letter, when hearing a Noise of more than one coming up Stairs, she concluded his Friend had found him, and that her Letter would be to no purpose, so tore it in pieces, which she repented; when turning about, she found her Mistake, and beheld Don Fabio and the Marquess of Viterbo just entring at the Door. She gave a Shriek at the Surprize of their Appearance, which much troubled the Old Gentlemen, and made them retire in Confusion for putting a Gentlewoman into such a Fright. The Marquess thinking they had been misinformed, or had mistaken the Lodgings, came forward again, and made an Apology to the Lady for their Errour; but she making no reply, walk’d directly by him down Stairs and went into her Coach, which hurried her away as speedily as the Horses were able to draw.

The Dons were at a loss what to think, when, Hippolito coming into the Room to give the Lady an Account of his Errant, was no less astonished to find she was departed, and had left Two Old Signiors in her stead. He knew Don Fabio’s Face, for Aurelian had shewn him his Father at the Tilting; but being confident he was not known to him, he ventur’d to ask him concerning a Lady whom just now he had left in that Chamber. Don Fabio told him, she was just gone down, and doubted they had been Guilty of a Mistake, in coming to enquire for a Couple of Gentlemen whom they were informed were Lodged in that House; he begg’d his Pardon if he had any Relation to that Lady, and desired to know if he could give them any Account of the Persons they sought for. Hippolito made answer, He was a Stranger in the Place, and only a Servant to that Lady whom they had disturb’d, and whom he must go and seek out. And in this Perplexity he left them, going again in Search of Aurelian, to inform him of what had passed.

The Old Gentlemen at last meeting with a Servant of the House, were directed to Signior Claudio’s Chamber, where they were no sooner entered but Aurelian came into the House. A Servant who had skulk’d for him by Hippolito’s Order, followed him up into the Chamber, and told him who was with Claudio then making Enquiry for him. He thought that to be no Place for him, since Claudio must needs discover all the Truth to his Father; wherefore he left Directions with the Servant, where Hippolito should meet him in the Morning. As he was going out of the Room he espied the torn Paper, which the Lady had thrown upon the Floor: The first piece he took up had Incognita written upon it; the sight of which so Alarum’d him, he scarce knew what he was about; but hearing a Noise of a Door opening over Head, with as much Care as was consistent with the haste he was then in, he gathered up scattered pieces of Paper, and betook himself to a Ramble.

Coming by a Light which hung at the Corner of a Street, he join’d the torn Papers and collected thus much, that Incognita had Written the Note, and earnestly desired (if there were any reality in what he pretended to her) to meet her at Twelve a Clock that Night at a Convent Gate; but unluckily the Bit of Paper which should have mentioned what Convent, was broken off and lost.

Here was a large Subject for Aurelian’s Passion, which he did not spare to pour forth in Abundance of Curses on his Stars. So earnest was he in the Contemplation of his Misfortunes, that he walk’d on unwittingly; till at length Silence (and such as was only to be found in that part the Town, whither his unguided Steps had carried him) surpriz’d his Attention. I say, a profound Silence rouzed him from his Thought; and a clap of Thunder could have done no more.

Now because it is possible this at some time or other may happen to be read by some Malicious or Ignorant Person, (no Reflection upon the present Reader) who will not admit, or does not understand that Silence should make a Man start; and have the same Effect, in provoking his Attention, with its opposite Noise; I will illustrate this matter, to such a diminutive Critick, by a Parallel Instance of Light; which though it does chiefly entertain the Eyes, and is indeed the prime Object of the Sight, yet should it immediately cease, to have a Man left in the Dark by a suddain deficiency of it, would make him stare with his Eyes, and though he could not see, endeavour to look about him. Why just thus did it fare with our Adventurer; who seeming to have wandred both into the Dominions of Silence and of Night, began to have some tender for his own Safety, and would willingly have groped his Way back again; when he heard a Voice, as from a Person whose Breath had been stopp’d by some forcible Oppression, and just then, by a violent Effort, was broke through the Restraint.—‘Yet—Yet—(again reply’d the Voice, still struggling for Air,) ‘Forbear—and I’ll forgive what’s past—I have done nothing yet that needs a Pardon, (says another) and what is to come, will admit of none.

Here the Person who seemed to be the Oppressed, made several Attempts to speak, but they were only inarticulate Sounds, being all interrupted and choaked in their Passage.

Aurelian was sufficiently astonish’d, and would have crept nearer to the Place whence he guessed the Voice to come; but he was got among the Runes of an Old Monastery, and could not stir so silently, but some loose Stones he met with made a rumbling. The Noise alarm’d both Parties; and as it gave Comfort to the one, it so Terrified the t’other, that he could not hinder the Oppressed from calling for help. Aurelian fancy’d it was a Woman’s Voice, and immediately drawing his Sword, demanded what was the Matter; he was answered with the Appearance of a Man, who had opened a Dark Lanthorn which he had by him, and came toward him with a Pistol in his Hand ready cock’d.

Aurelian seeing the irresistable advantage his Adversary had over him, would fain have retired; and, by the greatest Providence in the World, going backwards fell down over some loose Stones that lay in his Way, just in that Instant of Time when the Villain fired his Pistol, who seeing him fall, concluded he had Shot him. The Crys of the afflicted Person were redoubled at the Tragical Sight, which made the Murderer, drawing a Poniard, to threaten him, that the next Murmur should be his last. Aurelian, who was scarce assured that he was unhurt, got softly up; and coming near enough to perceive the Violence that was used to stop the Injured Man’s Mouth; (for now he saw plainly it was a Man) cry’d out,—Turn, Villain, and look upon thy Death.—The Fellow amazed at the Voice, turn’d about to have snatch’d up the Lanthorn from the Ground; either to have given Light only to himself, or to have put out the Candle, that he might have made his Escape; but which of the Two he designed, no Body could tell but himself: and if the Reader have a Curiosity to know, he must blame Aurelian; who thinking there could be no foul play offered to such a Villain, ran him immediately through the Heart, so that he drop’d down Dead at his Feet, without speaking a Word. He would have seen who the Person was he had thus happily delivered, but the Dead Body had fallen upon the Lanthorn, which put out the Candle: However coming up toward him, he ask’d him how he did, and bid him be of good Heart; he was answered with nothing but Prayers, Blessings and Thanks, called a Thousand Deliverers, good Genius’s and Guardian Angels. And the Rescued would certainly have gone upon his Knees to have worshipped him, had he not been bound Hand and Foot; which Aurelian understanding, groped for the Knots, and either untied them or cut them asunder; but ’tis more probable the latter, because more expeditious.

They took little heed what became of the Body which they left behind them, and Aurelian was conducted from out the Ruins by the Hand of him he had delivered. By a faint light issuing from the just rising Moon, he could discern that it was a Youth; but coming into a more frequented part of the Town, where several Lights were hung out, he was amaz’d at the extream Beauty which appeared in his Face, though a little pale and disordered with his late fright. Aurelian longed to hear the Story of so odd an adventure, and entreated his Charge to tell it him by the way; but he desired him to forbear till they were come into some House or other, where he might rest and recover his tired Spirits, for yet he was so faint he was unable to look up. Aurelian thought these last words were delivered in a Voice, whose accent was not new to him. That thought made him look earnestly in the Youth’s Face, which he now was sure he had somewhere seen before, and thereupon asked him if he had never been at Siena? That Question made the young Gentleman look up, and something of a Joy appeared in his Countenance, which yet he endeavoured to smother; so praying Aurelian to conduct him to his Lodging, he promised him that as soon as they should come thither, he would acquaint him with any thing he desired to know. Aurelian would rather have gone any where else than to his own Lodging; but being so very late he was at a loss, and so forced to be contented.

As soon as they were come into his Chamber, and that Lights were brought them and the Servant dismissed, the paleness which so visibly before had usurped the sweet Countenance of the afflicted Youth vanished, and gave place to a more lively Flood of Crimson, which with a modest heat glow’d freshly on his Cheeks. Aurelian waited with a pleasing Admiration the discovery promised him, when the Youth still struggling with his Resolution, with a timorous haste, pulled off a Peruke which had concealed the most beautiful abundance of Hair that ever graced one Female Head; those dishevelled spreading tresses, as at first they made a discovery of, so at last they served for a veil to the modest lovely blushes of the fair Incognita; for she it was and none other. But Oh! the inexpressible, inconceivable joy and amazement of Aurelian! As soon as he durst venture to think, he concluded it to be all Vision, and never doubted so much of any thing in his Life as of his being then awake. But she taking him by the Hand, and desiring him to sit down by her, partly convinced him of the reality of her presence.

‘This is the second time, Don Hippolito, (said she to him) ‘that I have been here this Night. What the occasion was of my seeking you out, and how by miracle you preserved me, would add too much to the surprize I perceive you to be already in should I tell you: Nor will I make any further discovery, till I know what censure you pass upon the confidence which I have put in you, and the strange Circumstances in which you find me at this time. I am sensible they are such, that I shall not blame your severest Conjectures; but I hope to convince you, when you shall hear what I have to say in justification of my Vertue.

‘Justification! (cry’d Aurelian) what Infidel dares doubt it! Then kneeling down, and taking her Hand, ‘Ah Madam (says he) would Heaven would no other ways look upon, than I behold your Perfections—Wrong not your Creature with a Thought, he can be guilty of that horrid Impiety as once to doubt your Vertue—Heavens! (cry’d he, starting up) ‘am I so really blessed to see you once again! May I trust my Sight?—Or does my fancy now only more strongly work?—For still I did preserve your Image in my Heart, and you were ever present to my dearest Thoughts.—

‘Enough Hippolito, enough of Rapture (said she) you cannot much accuse me of Ingratitude; for you see I have not been unmindful of you; but moderate your Joy till I have told you my Condition, and if for my sake you are raised to this Delight, it is not of a long continuance.

At that (as Aurelian tells the Story) a Sigh diffused a mournful sweetness through the Air, and liquid grief fell gently from her Eyes, triumphant sadness sat upon her Brow, and even sorrow seem’d delighted with the Conquest he had made. See what a change Aurelian felt! His Heart bled Tears, and trembled in his Breast; Sighs struggling for a vent had choaked each others passage up: His Floods of Joys were all supprest; cold doubts and fears had chill’d ’em with a sudden Frost, and he was troubled to excess; yet knew not why. Well, the Learned say it was Sympathy; and I am always of the Opinion with the Learned, if they speak first.

After a World of Condoleance had passed between them, he prevailed with her to tell him her Story. So having put all her Sighs into one great Sigh, she discharged her self of ’em all at once, and formed the Relation you are just about to Read.

‘Having been in my Infancy Contracted to a Man I could never endure, and now by my Parents being likely to be forced to Marry him, is in short, the great occasion of my grief. I fansy’d (continued she) something so Generous in your Countenance, and uncommon in your Behaviour, while you were diverting your self, and rallying me with Expressions of Gallantry, at the Ball, as induced me to hold Conference with you. I now freely confess to you, out of design, That if things should happen as I then feared, and as now they are come to pass, I might rely upon your assistance in a matter of Concern; and in which I would sooner chuse to depend upon a generous Stranger, than any Acquaintance I have. What Mirth and Freedom I then put on, were, I can assure you, far distant from my Heart; but I did violence to my self out of Complaisance to your Temper.—I knew you at the Tilting, and wished you might come off as you did; though I do not doubt, but you would have had as good Success had it been opposite to my Inclinations.—Not to detain you by too tedious a Relation, every day my Friends urged me to the Match they had agreed upon for me, before I was capable of Consenting; at last their importunities grew to that degree, that I found I must either consent, which would make me miserable, or be miserable by perpetually enduring to be baited by my Father, Brother and other Relations. I resolved yesterday, on a suddain to give firm Faith to the Opinion I had conceived of you; and accordingly came in the Evening to request your assistance, in delivering me from my Tormentors, by a safe and private conveyance of me to a Monastery about four Leagues hence, where I have an Aunt who would receive me, and is the only Relation I have averse to the Match. I was surprized at the appearance of some Company I did not expect at your Lodgings; which made me in haste tear a Paper which I had written to you with Directions where to find me, and get speedily away in my Coach to an old Servant’s House, whom I acquainted with my purpose: By my Order she provided me of this Habit which I now wear; I ventured to trust my self with her Brother, and resolved to go under his Conduct to the Monastery; he proved to be a Villain, and Pretending to take me a short and private way to the place where he was to take up a Hackney Coach (for that which I came in was broke some where or other with the haste it made to carry me from your Lodging) led me into an old ruined Monastery, where it pleased Heaven, by what Accident I know not, to direct you. I need not tell you how you saved my Life and my Honour, by revenging me with the Death of my Perfidious Guide. This is the summ of my present Condition, bating the apprehensions I am in of being taken by some of my Relations, and forced to a thing so quite contrary to my Inclinations.

Aurelian was confounded at the Relation she had made, and began to fear his own Estate to be more desperate than ever he had imagined. He made her a very Passionate and Eloquent Speech in behalf of himself (much better than I intend to insert here) and expressed a mighty concern that she should look upon his ardent Affection to be only Rallery or Gallantry. He was very free of his Oaths to confirm the Truth of what he pretended, nor I believe did she doubt it, or at least was unwilling so to do: For I would Caution the Reader by the bye, not to believe every word which she told him, nor that admirable sorrow which she counterfeited to be accurately true. It was indeed truth so cunningly intermingled with Fiction, that it required no less Wit and Presence of Mind than she was endowed with so to acquit her self on the suddain. She had entrusted her self indeed with a Fellow who proved a Villain, to conduct her to a Monastery; but one which was in the Town, and where she intended only to lie concealed for his sake; as the Reader shall understand ere long: For we have another Discovery to make to him, if he have not found it out of himself already.

After Aurelian had said what he was able upon the Subject in hand, with a mournful tone and dejected look, he demanded his Doom. She asked him if he would endeavour to convey her to the Monastery she had told him of? ‘Your commands, Madam, (replied he) ‘are Sacred to me; and were they to lay down my Life I would obey them. With that he would have gone out of the Room, to have given order for his Horses to be got ready immediately; but with a Countenance so full of sorrow as moved Compassion in the tender hearted Incognita. ‘Stay a little Don Hippolito (said she) I fear I shall not be able to undergo the Fatigue of a Journey this Night.—Stay and give me your Advice how I shall conceal my self if I continue to morrow in this Town. Aurelian could have satisfied her she was not then in a place to avoid discovery: But he must also have told her then the reason of it, viz. whom he was, and who were in quest of him, which he did not think convenient to declare till necessity should urge him; for he feared least her knowledge of those designs which were in agitation between him and Juliana, might deter her more from giving her consent. At last he resolved to try his utmost perswasions to gain her, and told her accordingly, he was afraid she would be disturbed there in the Morning, and he knew no other way (if she had not as great an aversion for him as the Man whom she now endeavour’d to avoid) than by making him happy to make her self secure. He demonstrated to her,—that the disobligation to her Parents would be greater by going to a Monastery, since it was only to avoid a choice which they had made for her, and which she could not have so just a pretence to do till she had made one for her self.

A World of other Arguments he used, which she contradicted as long as she was able, or at least willing. At last she told him, she would consult her Pillow, and in the Morning conclude what was fit to be done. He thought it convenient to leave her to her rest, and having lock’d her up in his Room, went himself to repose upon a Pallat by Signior Claudio.

In the mean time, it may be convenient to enquire what became of Hippolito. He had wandered much in pursuit of Aurelian, though Leonora equally took up his Thoughts; He was reflecting upon the oddness and extravagance of his Circumstances, the Continuation of which had doubtless created in him a great uneasiness, when it was interrupted with the noise of opening the Gates of the Convent of St. Lawrence, whither he was arrived sooner than he thought for, being the place Aurelian had appointed by the Lacquey to meet him in. He wondered to see the Gates opened at so unseasonable an hour, and went to enquire the reason of it from them who were employ’d; but they proved to be Novices, and made him signs to go in, where he might meet with some body allow’d to answer him. He found the Religious Men all up, and Tapers lighting every where: at last he follow’d a Friar who was going into the Garden, and asking him the cause of these Preparations, he was answered, That they were entreated to pray for the Soul of a Cavalier, who was just departing or departed this Life, and whom upon farther talk with him, he found to be the same Lorenzo so often mentioned. Don Mario, it seems Uncle to Lorenzo and Father to Leonora, had a private Door out of the Garden belonging to his House into that of the Convent, which Door this Father was now a going to open, that he and his Family might come and offer up their Oraisons for the Soul of their Kinsman. Hippolito having informed himself of as much as he could ask without suspicion, took his leave of the Friar, not a little joyful at the Hopes he had by such unexpected Means, of seeing his Beautiful Leonora: As soon as he was got at convenient Distance from the Friar, (who ’tis like thought he had return’d into the Convent to his Devotion) he turned back through a close Walk which led him with a little Compass, to the same private Door, where just before he had left the Friar, who now he saw was gone, and the Door open.

He went into Don Mario’s Garden, and walk’d round with much Caution and Circumspection; for the Moon was then about to rise, and had already diffused a glimmering Light, sufficient to distinguish a Man from a Tree. By Computation now (which is a very remarkable Circumstance) Hippolito entred this Garden near upon the same Instant, when Aurelian wandred into the Old Monastery and found his Incognita in Distress. He was pretty well acquainted with the Platform, and Sight of the Garden; for he had formerly surveyed the Outside, and knew what part to make to if he should be surpriz’d and driven to a precipitate Escape. He took his Stand behind a well grown Bush of Myrtle, which, should the Moon shine brighter than was required, had the Advantage to be shaded by the Indulgent Boughs of an ancient Bay-Tree. He was delighted with the Choice he had made, for he found a Hollow in the Myrtle, as if purposely contriv’d for the Reception of one Person, who might undiscovered perceive all about him. He looked upon it as a good Omen, that the Tree Consecrated to Venus was so propitious to him in his Amorous Distress. The Consideration of that, together with the Obligation he lay under to the Muses, for sheltering him also with so large a Crown of Bays, had like to have set him a Rhyming.

He was, to tell the Truth, naturally addicted to Madrigal, and we should undoubtedly have had a small desert of Numbers to have pick’d and Criticiz’d upon, had he not been interrupted just upon his Delivery; nay, after the Preliminary Sigh had made Way for his Utterance. But so was his Fortune, Don Mario was coming towards the Door at that very nick of Time, where he met with a Priest just out of Breath, who told him that Lorenzo was just breathing his last, and desired to know if he would come and take his final Leave before they were to administer the Extream Unction. Don Mario, who had been at some Difference with his Nephew, now thought it his Duty to be reconciled to him; so calling to Leonora, who was coming after him, he bid her go to her Devotions in the Chappel, and told her where he was going.

He went on with the Priest, while Hippolito saw Leonora come forward, only accompanied by her Woman. She was in an undress, and by reason of a Melancholy visible in her Face, more Careless than usual in her Attire, which he thought added as much as was possible to the abundance of her Charms. He had not much Time to Contemplate this Beauteous Vision, for she soon passed into the Garden of the Convent, leaving him Confounded with Love, Admiration, Joy, Hope, Fear, and all the Train of Passions, which seize upon Men in his Condition, all at once. He was so teazed with this Variety of Torment, that he never missed the Two Hours that had slipped away during his Automachy and Intestine Conflict. Leonora’s Return settled his Spirits, at least united them, and he had now no other Thought but how he should present himself before her. When she calling her Woman, bid her bolt the Garden Door on the Inside, that she might not be Surpriz’d by her Father, if he returned through the Convent, which done, she ordered her to bring down her Lute, and leave her to her self in the Garden.

All this Hippolito saw and heard to his inexpressible Content, yet had he much to do to smother his Joy, and hinder it from taking a Vent, which would have ruined the only Opportunity of his Life. Leonora withdrew into an Arbour so near him, that he could distinctly hear her if she Played or Sung: Having tuned her Lute, with a Voice soft as the Breath of Angels, she flung to it this following Air:

I.

Ah! Whither, whither shall I fly,
A poor unhappy Maid;
To hopeless Love and Misery
By my own Heart betray’d?
Not by Alexis Eyes undone,
Nor by his Charming Faithless Tongue,
Or any Practis’d Art;
Such real Ills may hope a Cure,
But the sad Pains which I endure
Proceed from fansied Smart.

II.

’Twas Fancy gave Alexis Charms,
Ere I beheld his Face:
Kind Fancy (then) could fold our Arms,
And form a soft Embrace.
But since I’ve seen the real Swain,
And try’d to fancy him again,
I’m by my Fancy taught,
Though ’tis a Bliss no Tongue can tell,
To have Alexis, yet ’tis Hell
To have him but in Thought.

The Song ended grieved Hippolito that it was so soon ended; and in the Ecstacy he was then rapt, I believe he would have been satisfied to have expired with it. He could not help Flattering himself, (though at the same Time he checked his own Vanity) that he was the Person meant in the Song. While he was indulging which thought, to his happy Astonishment, he heard it encouraged by these Words:

‘Unhappy Leonora (said she) how is thy poor unwary Heart misled? Whither am I come? The false deluding Lights of an imaginary Flame, have led me, a poor benighted Victim, to a real Fire. I burn and am consumed with hopeless Love; those Beams in whose soft temperate warmth I wanton’d heretofore, now flash destruction to my Soul, my Treacherous greedy Eyes have suck’d the glaring Light, they have united all its Rays, and, like a burning-Glass, convey’d the pointed Meteor to my Heart—Ah! Aurelian, how quickly hast thou Conquer’d, and how quickly must thou Forsake. Oh Happy (to me unfortunately Happy) Juliana! I am to be the subject of thy Triumph—To thee Aurelian comes laden with the Tribute of my Heart and Glories in the Oblation of his broken Vows.—What then, is Aurelian False! False! alass, I know not what I say; How can he be False, or True, or any Thing to me? What Promises did he ere make or I receive? Sure I dream, or I am mad, and fansie it to be Love; Foolish Girl, recal thy banish’d Reason.—Ah! would it were no more, would I could rave, sure that would give me Ease, and rob me of the Sense of Pain; at least, among my wandring Thoughts, I should at sometime light upon Aurelian, and fansie him to be mine; kind Madness would flatter my poor feeble Wishes, and sometimes tell me Aurelian is not lost—not irrecoverably—not for ever lost.

Hippolito could hear no more, he had not Room for half his Transport. When Leonora perceived a Man coming toward her, she fell a trembling, and could not speak. Hippolito approached with Reverence, as to a Sacred Shrine; when coming near enough to see her Consternation, he fell upon his Knees.

‘Behold, O Adored Leonora (said he) ‘your ravished Aurelian, behold at your Feet the Happiest of Men, be not disturb’d at my Appearance, but think that Heaven conducted me to hear my Bliss pronounced by that dear Mouth alone, whose breath could fill me with new Life.

Here he would have come nearer, but Leonora (scarce come to her self) was getting up in haste to have gone away: he catch’d her Hand, and with all the Endearments of Love and Transport pressed her stay; she was a long time in great Confusion, at last, with many Blushes, she entreated him to let her go where she might hide her Guilty Head, and not expose her shame before his Eyes, since his Ears had been sufficient Witnesses of her Crime. He begg’d pardon for his Treachery in over-hearing, and confessed it to be a Crime he had now repeated. With a Thousand Submissions, Entreaties, Prayers, Praises, Blessings, and passionate Expressions he wrought upon her to stay and hear him. Here Hippolito made use of his Rhetorick, and it proved prevailing: ’Twere tedious to tell the many ingenious Arguments he used, with all her Nice Distinctions and Objections. In short, he convinced her of his Passion, represented to her the necessity they were under, of being speedy in their Resolves: That his Father (for still he was Aurelian) would undoubtedly find him in the Morning, and then it would be too late to Repent. She on the other Hand, knew it was in vain to deny a Passion, which he had heard her so frankly own; (and no doubt was very glad it was past and done;) besides apprehending the danger of delay, and having some little Jealousies and Fears of what Effect might be produced between the Commands of his Father and the Beauties of Juliana; after some decent Denials, she consented to be Conducted by him through the Garden into the Convent, where she would prevail with her Confessor to Marry them. He was a scrupulous Old Father whom they had to deal withal, insomuch that ere they had perswaded him, Don Mario was returned by the Way of his own House, where missing his Daughter, and her Woman not being able to give any farther Account of her, than that she left her in the Garden; he concluded she was gone again to her Devotions, and indeed he found her in the Chappel upon her Knees with Hippolito in her hand, receiving the Father’s Benediction upon Conclusion of the Ceremony.

It would have asked a very skilful Hand, to have depicted to the Life the Faces of those Three Persons, at Don Mario’s Appearance. He that has seen some admirable Piece of Transmutation by a Gorgon’s Head, may form to himself the most probable Idea of the Prototype. The Old Gentleman was himself in a sort of a Wood, to find his Daughter with a Young Fellow and a Priest, but as yet he did not know the Worst, till Hippolito and Leonora came, and kneeling at his Feet, begg’d his Forgiveness and Blessing as his Son and Daughter. Don Mario, instead of that, fell into a most violent Passion, and would undoubtedly have committed some extravagant Action, had he not been restrained, more by the Sanctity of the Place, than the Perswasions of all the Religious, who were now come about him. Leonora stirr’d not off her Knees all this time, but continued begging of him that he would hear her.

‘Ah! Ungrateful and Undutiful Wretch (cry’d he) ‘how hast thou requited all my Care and Tenderness of thee? Now when I might have expected some return of Comfort, to throw thy self away upon an unknown Person, and, for ought I know, a Villain; to me I’m sure he is a Villain, who has robb’d me of my Treasure, my Darling Joy, and all the future Happiness of my Life prevented. Go—go, thou now-to-be-forgotten Leonora, go and enjoy thy unprosperous Choice; you who wanted not a Father’s Counsel, cannot need, or else will slight his Blessing.

These last Words were spoken with so much Passion and feeling Concern, that Leonora, moved with Excess of Grief, fainted at his Feet, just as she had caught hold to Embrace his Knees. The Old Man would have shook her off, but Compassion and Fatherly Affection came upon him in the midst of his Resolve, and melted him into Tears, he Embraced his Daughter in his Arms, and wept over her, while they endeavoured to restore her Senses.

Hippolito was in such Concern he could not speak, but was busily employed in rubbing and chafing her Temples; when she opening her Eyes laid hold of his Arm, and cry’d out—Oh my Aurelian—how unhappy have you made me! With that she had again like to have fainted away, but he took her in his Arms, and begg’d Don Mario to have some pity on his Daughter, since by his Severity she was reduced to that Condition. The Old Man hearing his Daughter name Aurelian, was a little revived, and began to hope Things were in a pretty good Condition; he was perswaded to comfort her, and having brought her wholly to her self, was content to hear her Excuse, and in a little time was so far wrought upon as to beg Hippolito’s Pardon for the Ill Opinion he had conceived of him, and not long after gave his Consent.

The Night was spent in this Conflict, and it was now clear Day, when Don Mario Conducting his new Son and Daughter through the Garden, was met by some Servants of the Marquess of Viterbo, who had been enquiring for Donna Leonora, to know if Juliana had lately been with her; for that she was missing from her Father’s House, and no conjectures could be made of what might become of her. Don Mario and Leonora were surprized at the News, for he knew well enough of the Match that was design’d for Juliana; and having enquired where the Marquess was, it was told him, That he was gone with Don Fabio and Fabritio toward Aurelian’s Lodgings. Don Mario having assured the Servants that Juliana had not been there, dismissed them, and advised with his Son and Daughter how they should undeceive the Marquess and Don Fabio in their Expectations of Aurelian. Hippolito could oftentimes scarce forbear smiling at the old Man’s Contrivances who was most deceived himself; he at length advised them to go all down together to his Lodging, where he would present himself before his Father, and ingenuously confess to him the truth, and he did not question his approving of his Choice.

This was agreed to, and the Coach made ready. While they were upon their way, Hippolito pray’d heartily that his Friend Aurelian might be at the Lodging, to satisfie Don Mario and Leonora of his Circumstances and Quality, when he should be obliged to discover himself. His Petitions were granted; for Don Fabio had beset the House long before his Son was up or Incognita awake.

Upon the arrival of Don Mario and Hippolito, they heard a great Noise and Hubbub above Stairs, which Don Mario concluded was occasioned by their not finding Aurelian, whom he thought he could give the best account of: So that it was not in Hippolito’s power to disswade him from going up before to prepare his Father to receive and forgive him. While Hippolito and Leonora were left in the Coach at the Door, he made himself known to her, and begg’d her pardon a thousand times for continuing the deceit. She was under some concern at first to find she was still mistaken; but his Behaviour, and the Reasons he gave, soon reconciled him to her; his Person was altogether as agreeable, his Estate and Quality not at all inferiour to Aurelian’s; in the mean time, the true Aurelian who had seen his Father, begg’d leave of him to withdraw for a moment; in which time he went into the Chamber where his Incognita was dressing her self, by his design, in Woman’s Apparel, while he was consulting with her how they should break the matter to his Father; it happened that Don Mario came up Stairs where the Marquess and Don Fabio were; they undoubtedly concluded him Mad, to hear him making Apologies and Excuses for Aurelian, whom he told them if they would promise to forgive he would present before them immediately. The Marquess asked him if his Daughter had lain with Leonora that Night; he answered him with another question in behalf of Aurelian. In short, they could not understand one another, but each thought ’tother beside himself. Don Mario was so concern’d that they would not believe him, that he ran down Stairs and came to the Door out of Breath, desiring Hippolito that he would come into the House quickly, for that he could not perswade his Father but that he had already seen and spoke to him. Hippolito by that understood that Aurelian was in the House; so taking Leonora by the Hand, he followed Don Mario, who led him up into the Dining-Room, where they found Aurelian upon his Knees, begging his Father to forgive him, that he could not agree to the Choice he had made for him, since he had already disposed of himself, and that before he understood the designs he had for him, which was the reason that he had hitherto concealed himself. Don Fabio knew not how to answer him, but look’d upon the Marquess, and the Marquess upon him, as if the Cement had been cool’d which was to have united their Families.

All was silent, and Don Mario for his part took it to be all Conjuration; he was coming forward to present Hippolito to them, when Aurelian spying his Friend, started from his Knees and ran to embrace him—My dear Hippolito (said he) what happy chance has brought you hither, just at my Necessity? Hippolito pointed to Don Mario and Leonora, and told him upon what terms he came. Don Mario was ready to run mad, hearing him called Hippolito, and went again to examine his Daughter. While she was informing him of the truth, the Marquess’s Servants returned with the melancholy News that his Daughter was no where to be found. While the Marquess and Don Fabritio were wondering at, and lamenting the Misfortune of her loss, Hippolito came towards Don Fabio and interceded for his Son, since the Lady perhaps had withdrawn her self out of an Aversion to the Match. Don Fabio, though very much incens’d, yet forgot not the Respect due to Hippolito’s Quality; and by his perswasion spoke to Aurelian, though with a stern Look and angry Voice, and asked him where he had disposed the cause of his Disobedience, if he were worthy to see her or no; Aurelian made answer, That he desired no more than for him to see her; and he did not doubt a Consequence of his Approbation and Forgiveness—Well (said Don Fabio) you are very conceited of your own Discretion, let us see this Rarety. While Aurelian was gone in for Incognita, the Marquess of Viterbo and Don Fabritio were taking their leaves in great disorder for their loss and disappointment; but Don Fabio entreated their stay a moment longer till the return of his Son. Aurelian led Incognita into the Room veil’d, who seeing some Company there which he had not told her of, would have gone back again. But Don Fabio came bluntly forwards, and ere she was aware, lifted up her Veil and beheld the Fair Incognita, differing nothing from Juliana, but in her Name. This discovery was so extreamly surprizing and welcome, that either Joy or Amazement had tied up the Tongues of the whole Company. Aurelian here was most at a loss, for he knew not of his Happiness; and that which all along prevented Juliana’s confessing her self to him, was her knowing Hippolito (for whom she took him) to be Aurelian’s Friend, and she feared if he had known her, that he would never have consented to have deprived him of her. Juliana was the first that spoke, falling upon her Knees to her Father, who was not enough himself to take her up. Don Fabio ran to her, and awakened the Marquess, who then embraced her, but could not yet speak. Fabritio and Leonora strove who should first take her in their Arms; for Aurelian he was out of his wits for Joy, and Juliana was not much behind him, to see how happily their Loves and Duties were reconciled. Don Fabio embraced his Son and forgave him. The Marquess and Fabritio gave Juliana into his hands, he received the Blessing upon his Knees; all were over-joy’d, and Don Mario not a little proud at the discovery of his Son-in-Law, whom Aurelian did not fail to set forth with all the ardent Zeal and Eloquence of Friendship. Juliana and Leonora had pleasant Discourse about their unknown and mistaken Rivalship, and it was the Subject of a great deal of Mirth to hear Juliana relate the several Contrivances which she had to avoid Aurelian for the sake of Hippolito.

Having diverted themselves with many Remarks upon the pleasing surprize, they all thought it proper to attend upon the Great Duke that Morning at the Palace, and to acquaint him with the Novelty of what had pass’d; while, by the way, the two Young Couple entertained the Company with the Relation of several Particulars of their Three Days Adventures.