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<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
<strong>By</strong> <strong>Wiliam</strong> <strong>Congreve</strong><br />
TO THE HONOURED AND WORTHILY ESTEEM'D MRS.<br />
KATHARINE LEVESON.<br />
1
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Madam,<br />
A Clear Wit, sound Judgmt and a Merciful Disposition, are things so<br />
rarely united, that it is almost inexcusable to entertain them with any thing<br />
less excellent in its kind. My knowledge of you wre a sufficient<br />
Caution to me, to avoid your Cenure of this Trifle, had I not as intire a<br />
knowldge of your Goodness. Since I have drawn my Pen for a<br />
Rencounter, I think it better to engage where, though there be Skil enough<br />
to Disarm m, there is too much Generosity to Wound; for s shall I have<br />
the saving Reputation of an unsuccessful Courage, if I cannot make it a<br />
drawn Battle. But methks the Comparison intimate somthg of a<br />
Defiance, and savours of Arrogance; wherefore since I am Conscious to<br />
my self of a Fear wich I cannot put off, let me use the Policy of Cowards<br />
and lay this Novel unarm'd, naked and svering at your Feet, so that if it<br />
should want Merit to challenge Protection, yet, as an Object of Charity, it<br />
may move Compassion It has been some Diverson to me to Write it, I<br />
wish it may prove such to you when you have an hour to throw away in<br />
Reading of it: but this Satisfaction I have at least beforehand, that i its<br />
greatet failings it may fly for Pardon to that Indulgece wh you owe to<br />
the weakne of your Friend; a Title whic I am proud you have thought<br />
m worthy of, and whh I think can ale be superior to that<br />
Your most Humble and Obliged Servant CLEOPHIL.<br />
2
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
THE PREFACE TO THE<br />
READER.<br />
Reader,<br />
Some Authors are so fod of a Preface, that they will write one th'<br />
there be nothing more i it than an Apology for its sf. But to s thee<br />
that I am not one of those, I will make no Apology for this, but do te thee<br />
that I thk it necessary to be prefix'd to ths Trifle, to prevet thy<br />
overlooking s littl pai whic I have taken in the Composition of th<br />
follng Story. Romances are generally composed of the Contant<br />
Loves and invincible Courages of Hero's, Hero, Kigs and Queens,<br />
Mortals of the first Rank, and so forth; where lofty Language, mraculous<br />
Contingencies and impossible Performances, elvate and surprize th<br />
Reader into a giddy Delight, which laves hi flat upon the Ground<br />
wenever he gives of, and vexes hi to think h he has suffer'd himself<br />
to be pleased and tranported, concern'd and afflicted at the several<br />
Passages whic he has Read, viz. these Knights Success to their Damo<br />
Misfortuns, and such like, w he i forced to be very wll conviced<br />
that 'ti all a lye. Novels are of a more familiar nature; C near us,<br />
and represent to us Intrigue in practie, deight us with Accidents and odd<br />
Events, but not suc as are wholly unusual or unpresidented, such which<br />
t being so distant from our Belief bring also the pleasure nearer us<br />
Romances give mre of Wonder, Novels mre Delight. And wth<br />
reverence be it spoken, and the Parallel kept at due distance, there is<br />
sthing of equalty in the Proportion wh they bear in reference to<br />
one another, with that betwen Cdy and Tragedy; but the Drama is the<br />
long extracted from Romance and History: 'tis the Midwfe to Industry,<br />
and brings forth alive the Coneptions of the Brain. Minerva walks upon<br />
the Stage before us, and we are mre assured of the real presence of Wit<br />
wen it is delivered viva voce -<br />
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem, Quam quae sunt oculi<br />
subjecta fidelibus, & quae Ipse sibi tradit spectator.--Horace.<br />
Since all Traditions must indisputably give place to the Drama, and<br />
3
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
sce there is no possibility of giving that life to the Writig or Repetition<br />
of a Story which it has in the Ati, I resolved in another beauty to<br />
imitate Dramatick Writing, namely, in the Degn, Cotexture and Result<br />
of the Plot. I have not obsrved it before i a Nove Som I have sen<br />
begin wth an unxpected accident, which has been the only surprizig<br />
part of the Story, caus enough to make the Sequel look flat, tedious and<br />
iipid; for 'tis but reasonable the Reader should expect it not to rise, at<br />
least to keep upon a level in the entertainment; for so he may be kept on i<br />
hopes that at some time or other it may mnd; but the 'tother is such a balk<br />
to a Man, 'ti carrying h up stairs to sow him the Dining-Roo, and<br />
after forcing him to make a Meal i the Kitchin. Th I have not oy<br />
endeavoured to avod, but al have used a method for the contrary<br />
purpo The design of the Novel is obvious, after the first meeting of<br />
Aurelian and Hippolito with <strong>Incognita</strong> and Leonora, and the diffiulty is in<br />
bringing it to pass, maugre all apparent obstacle, within the compass of<br />
tw days. How many probable Casualties intervene in oppositi to the<br />
ain Degn, viz. of marrying two Cuple so oddly engaged in an intricate<br />
Amour, I leave the Reader at his leisure to consider: A also whether<br />
every Obstacle does not in the progress of the Story act as subservient to<br />
that purpose, which at first it seems to oppose. In a Cody this would<br />
be called the Unty of Atio; here it may pretend to no more than an<br />
Unty of Contrivance. The Scene is continued in Florence from the<br />
comencement of the Aour; and the ti from first to last is but three<br />
days If there be any thing more in particular resembling the Copy w<br />
I imitate (as the Curious Reader will soon perceive) I leave it to show it<br />
self, being very wll satisfy'd how much mre proper it had been for h<br />
to have found out this himself, than for me to prepo hi with an<br />
Opinion of sthg extraordinary in an Essay began and finished in the<br />
idler hours of a fortnght's time: for I can only esteem it a laborious<br />
idlenes, which is Parent to so iderabl a Birth. I have gratified the<br />
Bookseller i pretending an occasio for a Preface; the other two Persons<br />
concern'd are the Reader and my self, and if he be but pleased with what<br />
was produced for that end, my satifactio follows of cours, since it will<br />
be proportion'd to his Approbation or Dislike.<br />
4
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
TEXT<br />
Aurelian was the only Son to a Principal Gentlan of Florence. The<br />
Indulgence of his Father prompted, and hs Wealth enabled him, to bestow<br />
a generous Educati upo him, wh, he now began to lok upo as th<br />
Type of himself; an Impression he had made in the Gayety and Vigour of<br />
his Youth, before the Rust of Age had debilitated and obscur'd th<br />
Splendour of the Original: He was seibl, That h ought not to be<br />
paring in the Adornent of h, if he had Resolution to beautifie his ow<br />
Memory. Indeed Don Fabio (for so was the Old Gentleman call'd) has<br />
been obsrv'd to have fix'd his Eyes upo Aurelian, wh much Company<br />
has been at Table, and have wept through Earnestness of Intention, if<br />
nothng hapned to divert the Object; whther it were for regret, at th<br />
Recollection of hi former self, or for the Joy he conceiv'd in beng, as it<br />
wre, reviv'd in the Person of his Son, I never tok upon me to enquire,<br />
but suppo'd it might be stims one, and stimes both together.<br />
Aurelian, at the Age of Eighteen Years, wanted nothing (but a Beard)<br />
that the most accomplished Cavalier in Floren could pretend to: he had<br />
been Educated from Twelve Years old at Siena, where it seems his Father<br />
kept a Receiver, having a large Income from the Rents of several Houses<br />
in that To Don Fabio gave his Servant Orders, That Aurelian should<br />
not be stited in his Expences, w he cam up to Years of Diretion.<br />
<strong>By</strong> which means he was enabld, not oy to keep Cpany with, but als<br />
to cnfer many Obligati upon Strangers of Quality, and Getlemen<br />
who travelled from other Countries into Italy, of which Siena never<br />
wanted store, beng a To most delightfully Situate, upo a Noble Hi,<br />
and very well suiting with Strangers at first, by reason of the<br />
agreeablens and purity of the Ar: There al is the quaintness and<br />
delicacy of the Italian Togue most likely to be learned, there being many<br />
publik Professors of it i that place; and indeed the very Vulgar of Siena<br />
do express themselves wth an easiness and sweetness surprizing, and<br />
even grateful to their Ears who understand not the Language.<br />
Here Aurelian contracted an acquaintance with Persons of Worth of<br />
5
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
several Countries, but among the rest an intimacy with a Getleman of<br />
Quality of Spain, and Nephew to the Archbisp of Toledo, who had so<br />
wrought helf into the Affections of Aurelian, through a Conformty of<br />
Teper, an Equality in Years, and sothing of resemblance in Feature<br />
and Proportion, that he look'd upon h as hi scond sef. Hippolito, o<br />
the othr hand, was nt ungrateful in return of Friendship, but thought<br />
himself ether ale or in ill Copany, if Aurelian wre absent: but hi<br />
Uncle having sent h to travel, under the Cnduct of a Governour, and<br />
the two Years wich limited h stay at Siena being expired, he was put in<br />
d of his departure. His Friend grew meanholy at the News, but<br />
consdering that Hippolito had nver seen Florence, he easily prevailed<br />
wth hi to make his first journey thither, whther he would accompany<br />
h, and perhaps prevail with his Father to do the like throughout hi<br />
Trave<br />
They accordingly set out, but not being able easily to reach Florence<br />
the same Night, they rested a League or two short, at a Villa of the great<br />
Duke's called Poggio Imperiale, where they wre informed by some of hi<br />
Highness's Servants, That the Nuptials of Donna Catharina (near<br />
Kian to the great Duke) and Don Ferdiand de Rovori, wre to be<br />
solemnized the next day, and that extraordinary Preparations had been<br />
making for so tim past, to illustrate the Soity with Ball and<br />
Masques, and other Divertisements; that a Titig had been proclaimed,<br />
and to that purpose Scaffolds erected around the Spacious Court, before<br />
the Church Di Santa Croce, where were usually seen all Cavalcades and<br />
Shews, performed by Assemblies of the Young Nobility: That al<br />
Mechanicks and Trades were forbidden to work or expose any Goods<br />
to Sale for the space of three days; during whic tim all Person should<br />
be etertain'd at the Great Duke's Cost; and publick Provion was to be<br />
ade for the setting forth and furng a multitude of Tabl, wth<br />
Entertainment for all Cors and Goers, and several Houses appointed for<br />
that use in all Streets.<br />
Th Aunt alarm'd the Spirits of our Young Travellers, and they<br />
wre overjoy'd at the prospect of Pleasures they foresaw. Aurelian could<br />
not ctain the satisfacti he conceiv'd in the welcome Fortune had<br />
6
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
prepar'd for hi dear Hippolito. In short, they both remebred so much<br />
of the pleasg Relation had been made them, that they forgot to sleep, and<br />
were up as soon as it was light, pounding at poor Signior Claudio's Door<br />
(so was Hippolito's Governour call'd) to rouse him, that no tim might be<br />
lost till they were arriv'd at Florence, where they would furnish themselves<br />
wth Diguises and othr Autrements necessary for the Proecution of<br />
their Design of saring i the publick Merriment; the rather were they for<br />
going so early because Aurelian did not think fit to publish hi being in<br />
To for a ti, least hi Father knowing of it, mght give so restraint<br />
to that loose they degned themsves<br />
Before Sun rise they entred Florence at Porta Roana, attended only<br />
by tw Servants, the rest beg lft beind to avoid notice; but, alas! they<br />
needed not to have usd half that cauti; for early as it was, the Streets<br />
re crowded with all sorts of People passing to and fro, and every Man<br />
eply'd in somthg relating to the Diversions to com; s that no<br />
notice was taken of any body; a Marques and hi Train might have pass'd<br />
by as unregarded as a sigle Fach or Cobler. Not a Widow in the<br />
Streets but echoed the tuning of a Lute or thrummig of a Gitarr: for, by<br />
the way, the Inhabitants of Florence are strangely addicted to the love of<br />
Musick, insouch that scarce their Children can go, before they can<br />
scratch so Instrumnt or other. It was no unpleasing Spectacle to our<br />
Cavaliers (who, seeing they were not obsrv'd, resolved to make<br />
Observatis) to behold the Diversty of Figures and Postures of many of<br />
these Musicians. Here you shuld have an affected Valt, who Mick'd<br />
the Behaviour of his Master, laning carelessly against the Wido, with<br />
Head on one side, in a languishing Posture, whing, in a low,<br />
mournful Voice, so dismal Complaint; while, from his sympathizig<br />
Theorbo, issued a Base no less doleful to the Hearers. In Opposition to<br />
him was set up perhaps a Cobler, with the wretchd Skeleton of a Gitarr,<br />
battered and waxed together by his own Industry, and who with thre<br />
Strigs out of Tune, and his own tearing hoarse Voice, would rack<br />
attention from the Neighbourhood, to the great affliction of many more<br />
mderate Practitioners, who, no doubt, were full as desirous to be heard.<br />
<strong>By</strong> this ti Aurelian's Servant had taken a Lodging and was returned, to<br />
7
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
give his Master an Aunt of it. The Cavaliers grown weary of that<br />
ridiulus Entertainment, which was diverting at first sight, retired wither<br />
the Lacquey conducted them; who, according to their Directions, had<br />
sought out one of the mt obscure Streets in the City. Al that day, to th<br />
evening, was spent i seding from on Brokers Shop to another, to<br />
furnh them with Habits, since they had not time to make any new.<br />
There was, it happened, but one to be got Rich enough to please our<br />
young Gentlemen, so many were taken up upon this occasion. While<br />
they were in Dipute and Complementing one another, (Aurelian<br />
protesting that Hippolito should wear it, and he, on 'tother hand,<br />
forswearing it as bitterly) a Servant of Hippolito's came up and ended the<br />
Controversi; teg them, That he had mt below with the Vallet de<br />
ambre of a Gentleman, who was one of the greatest Gallants about the<br />
Town, but was at this tim in such a conditi he could not possibly be at<br />
the Entertainment; whereupon the Vallet had designd to dress hielf up<br />
in his Master's Apparel, and try his talent at Curt; whh he hearing, tod<br />
him he would inform him how he mght betow the Habit for so time<br />
uch mre to hi profit if not to hs pleasure, so acquainted hi with the<br />
occasion his Master had for it. Hippolito sent for the Fell up, who was<br />
nt so fond of his degn as nt to be bought off it, but upon having h<br />
own demand granted for the use of it, brought it; it was very Rich, and<br />
upon tryal, as fit for Hippolito as if it had been made for him The<br />
Ceremony was performed in the Morng, in the great Do, with all<br />
agnificence correspondent to the wealth of the great Duke, and the<br />
esteem h had for the Noble Pair. The next Morning was to be a Tilting,<br />
and the same Night a Masquig Ball at Court. To omit the Deription of<br />
the universal Joy, (that had diffus'd it sf through all the Conduits of Wi,<br />
wich cvey'd it in large measures to the People) and ony relate th<br />
effects of it wich cocern our prest Adventurers You must know, that<br />
about the fall of the Evening, and at that tim when the aequilibrium of<br />
Day and Night, for so tim, holds the Air in a gly suspence<br />
between an unwillingness to leave the light, and a natural impul into the<br />
Donion of darkness, about thi ti our Hero's, shall I say, sally'd or<br />
slunk out of their Lodgings, and steer'd toward the great Palace, whithr,<br />
8
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
before they were arrived, such a prodigious number of Torche were on<br />
fire, that the day, by hep of these Auxiliary Forces, seem'd to continue its<br />
Donion; the Ows and Bats apprehending their mistake, in counting th<br />
hours, retir'd again to a covet darkness; for Madam Night was n<br />
re to be seen than she was to be heard; and the Chymists were of<br />
Opinion, That hr fuliginous Damps, rarefy'd by the abundance of Flame,<br />
were evaporated.<br />
Now the Reader I suppose to be upon Thorns at this and the like<br />
impertinent Digresons, but let hi alone and he'll co to himself; at<br />
whi tim I thk fit to acquaint him, that when I digress, I am at that<br />
time writing to please my self, when I continue the Thread of the Story, I<br />
write to please him; supposing h a reasoable Man, I conclude hi<br />
satified to al me this liberty, and so I proceed.<br />
If our Cavaliers were dazled at the spldour they bed without<br />
doors, wat surprize, thnk you, must they be in, w enterig the Palace<br />
they found even the lghts there to be but s many foi to the bright eyes<br />
that flash'd upon 'em at every turn<br />
more glrious Troop no occasion ever assembld; all the fair of<br />
Florence, with the most accomplished Cavaliers, were prest; and<br />
however Nature had be partial in bestowing on s better Faces than<br />
othrs, Art was alike indulgent to all, and idustriusy supplyed those<br />
Defects she had left, giving so Addition also to her greatest<br />
Excelle Every body appear'd well sap'd, as it is to be suppos'd,<br />
n who were conscious to themsves of any visible Deformity would<br />
presume to com thther. Their Apparel was equally glrious, though<br />
each differing in fancy. In short, our Strangers were so well bred, as to<br />
conclude from these apparent Perfections, that there was not a Masque<br />
which did not at least hide the Face of a Cherubim. Perhaps the Ladies<br />
wre not behind hand in return of a favourable Opi of them: for they<br />
wre both w dress'd, and had sthing inexpressibly pleasg in their<br />
Ar and Mien, different from other Peple, and ideed differing from one<br />
another. They fansy'd that whe they stood together they were mre<br />
particularly taken notice of than any in the Room, and beng ung to<br />
be taken for Strangers, which they thought they were, by reason of so<br />
9
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
whispering they observed near them, they agreed upon an hour of meeting<br />
after the company should be broke up, and s separately mngled with the<br />
thickest of the Assembly. Aurelian had fixed his eye upon a Lady whom<br />
h had obsrv'd to have been a considerable tim in close whisper with<br />
another Woan; he expeted with great impatience the result of that<br />
private Conference, that he might have an opportunty of engaging the<br />
Lady whose Person was so agreeable to hi At last he perceived they<br />
wre broke off, and the 'tother Lady seem'd to have taken her leave. He<br />
had taken no small pain in the mean time to put hielf in a poture to<br />
accost the Lady, whi, no doubt, he had happily performed had he not<br />
been interrupted; but scarce had he acquitted himself of a preliminary bow<br />
(and whh, I have heard him say, was the lowst that ever he made) and<br />
had just opened hi Lips to deliver himelf of a sall Complt, whi,<br />
nevertheless he was very big with, wh he unuckiy mscarried, by the<br />
interpoal of the same Lady, whose departure, not lng before, h had s<br />
zealously pray'd for: but, as Providece would have it, there was only<br />
s very small matter forgot, which was recovered in a short whisper.<br />
The Coast being again cleared, he took heart and bore up, and, strikig sail,<br />
repeated h Ceremony to the Lady; who, having Oblgigly returned it, he<br />
accosted her in these or the like words:<br />
'If I do nt usurp a prividge rerved for some one more happy in<br />
your acquaintance, may I presume, Madam, to entreat (for a while) the<br />
favour of your Coversatio, at least till the arrival of whom you expect,<br />
provided you are not tired of m before; for then upon the last intimati<br />
f uneasinss, I will not fail of doing my sef the violence to withdraw for<br />
your release. The Lady made him answer, she did not expect any body;<br />
by wich he might imagine her Coversation nt of value to be bespoke,<br />
and to afford it him, were but farther to cnvice hi to her own ct.<br />
He reply'd, 'She had already said eugh to convice him of something he<br />
heartily wshed might nt be to hi cost in the end. She pretended not to<br />
understand him; but told hi, 'If he already found hielf grieved with her<br />
Conversati, he would have sufficient reason to repet the rashnes of his<br />
first Deand before they had ended: for that no she inteded to hod<br />
discourse wth hi, on purpose to pun his unadvidnes, in presuming<br />
10
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
upo a Pers wose dress and mien might not (may be) be disagreeable<br />
to have wit. 'I must confess (reply'd Aurelian) my self guity of a<br />
Presumption, and wigly submit to the punnt you intend: and<br />
though it be an aggravation of a Crime to persevere in its justificatio, yet<br />
I cannot hep defending an Opinion in wich no I am mre confirm'd,<br />
that probable conjectures may be made of the ingenious Dispoiti of th<br />
Mind, from the fancy and choice of Apparel. The humour I grant ye<br />
(said the Lady) or constituti of the Person whether melancholck or<br />
brisk; but I should hardly pas my censure upon so slight an idication of<br />
wit: for there is your brisk foo as well as your brik man of sense, and<br />
so of the melancholick. I confess 'tis possble a fool may reveal himself by<br />
h Dress, in wearing somthing extravagantly singular and ridiculous, or<br />
in prepoterous suiting of coours; but a decency of Habit (which is all that<br />
Men of best sene pretend to) may be acquired by custom and example,<br />
without putting the Person to a superfluous expece of wit for th<br />
contrivance; and though there should be occasion for it, few are so<br />
unfortunate in their Relatios and Aquaintance not to have so Friend<br />
capable of giving them advice, if they are not too ignorantly conceited to<br />
ask it. Aurelian was so pleased with the easiness and smartness of her<br />
Expostulation, that he forgot to make a reply, when she seem'd to expect it;<br />
but beng a Woan of a quick Apprehon, and justly sensble of her<br />
own perfection, she so perceived he did not grudge his attention.<br />
Hover she had a mind to put it upon him to turn the diurse, so wt<br />
o upon the sam Subject. 'Signior (said she) I have been looking round<br />
m, and by your Maxim I cannot discover one fo in the Copany; for<br />
they are all we drest. This was spoken with an Ar of Rallery that<br />
awakend the Cavalier, who immdiately made answer: 'Tis true,<br />
Madam, we see there may be as much variety of good fancies as of faces,<br />
yet there may be many of both kinds borrowed and adulterate if inquired<br />
ito; and as you were pleased to observe, the invention may be Foreign to<br />
the Person who puts it in practie; and as good an Opinion as I have of an<br />
agreeable Dress, I should be loth to answer for the wit of all about us. I<br />
belive you (says the Lady) and hpe you are covinced of your error,<br />
since you must al it impossible to tell who of all this Asembly did or<br />
11
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
did not make choice of thr own Apparel. Not all (said Aurelian) there<br />
is an ungainss in some which betrays them. 'Look ye there (says he)<br />
poitig to a Lady who stood playing with th Tass of her Girdle, I dare<br />
answer for that Lady, though she be very well dress'd, 'tis more than sh<br />
knows. His fair unknown could nt forbear laughg at his particular<br />
ditinction, and freely told him, h had indeed light upon one who knw as<br />
little as any body in the Room, her self excepted. A! Madam, (reply'd<br />
Aurelian) you know every thg in the World but your ow Perfections,<br />
and you only know not th because 'ti the top of Perfecti not to know<br />
them. Ho? (reply'd the Lady) I thought it had been the extremity of<br />
knledge to kn on sef. Aurelian had a little over-strain'd himelf<br />
i that Complt, and I am of Opinion would have been puzzl'd to have<br />
brought himself off readiy: but by good fortune the Musk came into<br />
the Ro and gave him an opportunty to seem to decle an answer,<br />
because the company prepared to dance: h only told hr he was too<br />
mean a Conquest for her wit who was already a Slave to the Charms of her<br />
Person She thanked him for h Complt, and briskly told him s<br />
ought to have made him a return i praise of his wit, but she hoped he was<br />
a Man more happy than to be dissatisfy'd with any of his o<br />
Endowments; and if it were s, that h had not a just Opinion of hielf,<br />
she knew her self incapable of saying any thing to beget one. Aurean<br />
did not know well wat to make of ths last reply; for he alays abhor'd<br />
any thg that was conceited, with which this seem'd to reproach hi<br />
But hver modest he had been heretofore in his own thughts, yet never<br />
was he so distrustful of his good behaviur as no, being rally'd so by a<br />
Person whom he took to be of judgment: Yet he resved to take no<br />
notice, but wth an Ar unconcerned and full of good humour etreated her<br />
to Dance with him: She promised him to Dance with no body else, nor I<br />
believe had she inclination; for notwthstanding her tartness, she was upon<br />
equal terms with him as to the liking of each others Person and Humour,<br />
and only gave those little hints to try hi Teper; there being certainly no<br />
greater sign of foy and ill breedig, than to grow serious and concerned<br />
at any thing spoken in ralery: for his part, he was strangely and<br />
innsibly fallen in love with her Shape, Wit and Ar; which, togethr wth<br />
12
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
a wte Hand, he had seen (perhaps nt accidentally) were enough to have<br />
subdued a more stubborn Heart than ever he was master of; and for her<br />
Face, which he had not seen, he bestowed upon her the best his<br />
Imagination could furnih hi with. I should by right now describe her<br />
Dress, which was extreamly agreeable and rich, but 'tis possible I might<br />
err in som material Pin or othr, in the stiking of wh may be th<br />
whole grace of the Drapery depended. Well, they danced several time<br />
together, and no less to the satisfaction of the whole Company, than of<br />
themselve; for at the end of each Dance, some publick note of Applause<br />
r other was give to the graceful Couple.<br />
Aurelian was amaz'd, that among all that dancd or stood in view he<br />
could not see Hippolito; but concluding that he had met with som<br />
pleasing Conversati, and was withdrawn to so retired part of the<br />
Room, he forbore his search ti the mrth of that Night should be over, and<br />
the Copany ready to break up, where we will leave him for a while, to<br />
see what became of his adventurous Friend.<br />
Hippoto, a little after he had parted with Aurelian, was got among a<br />
knot of Ladi and Cavaliers, w were loking upon a large Gold Cup st<br />
wth Jewels, in which h Royal Highss had drank to the prosperity of<br />
the new married Couple at Dinner, and which afterward he presented to<br />
his Cous Doa Catharia. He among the rest was very intet,<br />
admiring the richness, wrkmanship and beauty of the Cup, wen a Lady<br />
came bend h and pulling hi by the Elbow, made a sign she would<br />
speak with him; Hippolito, who knew himelf an utter Stranger to<br />
Florence and every body in it, immdiately guessed she had mistaken him<br />
for her acquaintance, as indeed it happend; however he resolved not to<br />
diver himelf till he should be assured of it; having folled hr into a<br />
set Widow remote from Company, she addres'd her self to h in this<br />
manner: 'Signor Don Lorenzo (said she) I am overjoy'd to see you are<br />
so speediy recovered of your Wounds, wich by report wre much mre<br />
dangerous than to have suffered your comng abroad so soon; but I must<br />
accuse you of great indiscretion, in appearing in a Habit which so many<br />
must neds remeber you to have worn upon the lke occasion not long<br />
ago, I mean at the Marriage of Don Cynthio with your Siter Atalanta; I do<br />
13
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
assure you, you wre kn by it, both to Julana and my self, who was s<br />
far concerned for you, as to desire me to tell you, that her Brother Do<br />
Fabriti (who saw you when you came i with another Gentleman) had<br />
eyed you very narrowly, and is since go out of the Room, she know not<br />
upo what desgn; hver she would have you, for your own sake, be<br />
advised and crcumspect when you depart this place, lest you should be set<br />
upon unawares; you know the hatred Do Fabritio has born you ever since<br />
you had the fortune to ki his Kian in a Due: Here she paused as if<br />
expecting h reply; but Hippolito was s confounded, that h stood mute,<br />
and contemplating the hazard he had ignorantly brought himself into,<br />
forgot h design of informing the Lady of her mistake. She finding he<br />
made her no Aswer, wnt on. 'I perceive (continued she) you are in some<br />
surprize at what I have related, and may be, are doubtful of the Truth; but I<br />
thought you had been better acquaited with your Cousin Leonora's Voice,<br />
than to have forgot it s s: Yet in Coplaisance to your ill Memory, I<br />
will put you past doubt, by shewing you my Face; with that she pulled off<br />
hr Mask, and discovered to Hippolito (now more amaz'd than ever) th<br />
st Angelick Face that he had ever beheld. He was just about to have<br />
made her s anser, when, clapping on her Mask again without giving<br />
him time, she happily for hi pursu'd her Discourse. (For 'ti odds but<br />
h had made so discovery of himelf in the surprize he was in.)<br />
Having taken hi familiarly by the Hand, now she had made her self<br />
known to h, 'Cousin Lorenzo (added she) you may perhaps have taken it<br />
unkidly, that, during the ti of your indipotion by reason of your<br />
Wounds, I have not been to visit you; I do assure you it was not for want<br />
of any Inclination I had both to see and serve you to my power; but you<br />
are well acquaited with the Severity of my Father, whom you know h<br />
lately you have disobliged. I am mghty glad that I have met with you here,<br />
were I have had an Opportunity to te you what so much concerns your<br />
Safety, wich I am afraid you will not find in Florence; codering the<br />
great Power Don Fabriti and his Father, the Marquess of Viterbo, have i<br />
this City. I have another thg to inform you of, That wereas Don Fabi<br />
ad interested himelf in your Cause, in Opposition to the Marquess of<br />
Viterbo, by reason of the log Aimosity between them, all hopes of h<br />
14
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Countenance and Assistance are defeated: For there has been a Proposal<br />
of Reconcilati made to both Houses, and it is said it will be confirm'd<br />
(as most suc ancient Quarrels are at last) by the Marriage of Juliana the<br />
Marque's Daughter, with Aurelian, Son to Don Fabio: to whic effect<br />
the old Gentleman sent 'tother Day to Siena, where Aurelian has been<br />
Educated, to hasten h comg to To; but the Messenger returning this<br />
Morng, brought word, That the same day he arriv'd at Sia, Aurelian<br />
had set out for Flrence, in Company with a young Spanh Nobleman, his<br />
timate Friend; so it i believ'd, they are both in To, and not unlikely in<br />
this Ro in Masquerade<br />
Hippolito could nt forbear sming to hielf, at these last words For<br />
ever since the naming of Don Fabio he had be very attentive; but before,<br />
his Thoughts were wholly taken up with the Beauty of the Face he had<br />
seen, and from the time she had taken him by the Hand, a successive<br />
warmth and chillnes had play'd about his Heart, and surpriz'd him with an<br />
unusual Tranport. He was in a hundred Minds, whther he should make<br />
her sble of her Error or no; but codering he culd expect no farther<br />
Conference with her after h should discover hielf, and that as yet he<br />
knew not of her place of abode, he resolv'd to humour the mstake a little<br />
further. Having her still by the Hand, which he squeez'd sowhat more<br />
eagerly than is usual for Cousins to do, in a low and undistiguisable<br />
Voce, h let hr know how much h held hielf obliged to hr, and<br />
avoiding as many words as handsomely he could, at the same tim,<br />
entreated her to give hi her Advice, toard the management of hielf<br />
i th Affair. Leonora, who never from the beginning had entertain'd the<br />
least Scruple of distrust, imagined he spoke faitly, as not being yet<br />
perfectly recovered in his strength; and withal codering that the heat of<br />
the Ro, by reason of the Crowd, might be uneasie to a Perso in hi<br />
Conditi; she kindly told hi, That if he were as inclinable to dipe<br />
with the remaider of that Nights Diversion as se was, and had no othr<br />
engagemet upon him, by her consent they should both steal out of the<br />
Assembly, and go to her House, where they mght with more freedom<br />
discourse about a busss of that importance, and whre he might take<br />
something to refresh himself if he were (as she conceiv'd him to be)<br />
15
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
indispod with his lg standing. Judge you whther the Proposal wre<br />
acceptable to Hippolito or no; he had been ruminating with himself how to<br />
bring sothing like ths about, and had almost despair'd of it; wh of a<br />
suddain he found the succes of his degn had preveted his own<br />
endeavours. He told h Cousin in the sam key as before, That he was<br />
unwilling to be the occason of her Divorce from so much god Copany;<br />
but for his own part, he was afraid he had presumed too much upo his<br />
recovery i comg abroad s soon, and that h found hielf so unwell,<br />
he feared he should be quickly forc'd to retire. Lera stay'd not to<br />
ake him any other reply, only tipp'd h upon the Arm, and bid hi<br />
follow her at a convenient distance to avoid Observation<br />
Whver had seen the Joy that was in Hippolito's Counteance, and<br />
the Sprightliness with w he foll'd his Beautiful Conductress, would<br />
scarce have taken him for a Perso griev'd with unured Wounds She<br />
led him down a back pair of Stairs, into one of the Palace Gardens which<br />
had a Door opening into the Piazza, not far from where Don Mario her<br />
Father lived. They had little Discourse by the way, wich gave Hippoto<br />
time to coder of the best way of discovering hielf. A thousand<br />
things came into his Head in a minute, yet nothing that pleased hi: and<br />
after so many Contrivances as he had formed for the divery of hielf,<br />
he found it more rational for hi not to reveal hielf at all that Night,<br />
since he could not foresee what effect the surprize would have, she must<br />
needs be in, at the appearance of a Stranger, whom she had never s<br />
before, yet whom she had treated so familiarly. He knew Won were<br />
apt to shriek or sw upon such Occasions, and should she happen to do<br />
either, he might be at a los h to bring himself off. He thought he<br />
mght easily pretend to be idiposed soat mre than ordinary, and<br />
s make an excus to go to his o Lodging. It came into his Head too,<br />
that under pretence of givig her an account of his Health, he mght<br />
enquire of her the means how a Letter might be convey'd to her the next<br />
mrning, werein he might inform her gently of her mistake, and inuate<br />
something of that Passi he had conceiv'd, which he was sure he could<br />
nt have opportunity to speak of if h bluntly revealed himelf. He had<br />
just rev'd upon this Method, as they were come to the great Gates of th<br />
16
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Court, wh Leonora stoppig to let him go in before her, he of a suddai<br />
fetc'd h Breath violntly as if som stitch or twging smart had just<br />
then assaulted hi She enquired the matter of him, and advid hi to<br />
ake haste into the House that he might sit do and rest hi He told<br />
her he found himself so ill, that he judged it mre convenient for h to go<br />
home while he was in a conditi to move, for he fear'd if he should once<br />
sttle himelf to rest he might nt be able to stir. She was much troubled,<br />
and wuld have had a Chair made ready and Servants to carry him hom;<br />
but h made answer, he would nt have any of her Fathers Servants kn<br />
of hs being abroad, and that just no he had an interval of ease, which he<br />
p'd would continue till he made a sift to reach hi o Lodgings. Yet<br />
if she pleased to iform him how he mght give an account of hielf th<br />
xt morning, i a li or tw, he would not fail to give her the thanks due<br />
to her great kidn; and withal, would let her know sothing which<br />
would nt a little surprize her, though now he had not tim to acquaint her<br />
wth it. She show'd h a little Window at the corner of the House,<br />
where one should wait to receive his Letter, and was just takig hr leave<br />
of him, when seeing him search hastily in his Poket, she ask'd him if he<br />
mss'd any thing; he told her he thught a Wound which was not throughly<br />
heal'd bled a little, and that he had lost his Handkerchief. His design<br />
took; for she immdiately gave him hers: wich indeed accordigly he<br />
apply'd to the oly wound he was then griev'd with; which thugh it wnt<br />
quite through his Heart, yet thank God was not Mortal. He was not a<br />
little rejoyc'd at his good Fortune in getting so early a Favour from his<br />
Mistress, and notwithstanding the violce he did himelf to personate a<br />
sick Man, he could not forbear giving s Symptoms of an extraordinary<br />
content; and tellg her that he did not doubt to receve a coderabl<br />
Proporti of ease from the Application of what had so often kis'd her fair<br />
Hand. Lenora who did not suspect the Compliment, tod him she<br />
should be heartily glad if that or any thing in her power mght ctribute<br />
to his recovery; and wig h well home, went ito her House, as much<br />
troubld for her Cousin as he was joyful for his Mistress.<br />
Hippolito as soon as she was go i, began to make hi Remarks<br />
about the House, walking round the great Court, viewing the Gardens and<br />
17
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
all the Passage leading to that side of the Piazza. Having sufficiently<br />
informed himself, with a Heart full of Love, and a Head full of Stratagem,<br />
h walked toward his Lodging, impatint ti the arrival of Aurelian that h<br />
ght give himelf vent. In wh interim, lt me take the liberty to<br />
digress a little, and tell the Reader sothing whh I do nt doubt he has<br />
apprehended hielf log ago, if he be not the dullt Reader in the World;<br />
yet only for orders sake, let me tell him I say, That a young Getleman<br />
(Cousn to the aforesaid Don Fabritio) happened one night to have some<br />
words at a Gameing House with one Lorenzo, which created a Quarrel of<br />
fatal Consequece to the former, who was killd upon the Spot, and likely<br />
to be so to the latter, who was very desperatey wounded.<br />
Fabritio being much concerned for hi Kian, vow'd revege<br />
(according to the ant and laudable custom of Italy) upon Lorenzo if he<br />
surviv'd, or i case of his death (if it shuld happen to antipate that,<br />
much mre swinging Death which he had in store for hi) upon his next<br />
of Kin, and s to descend Lineally like an Englh Estate, to all the Heirs<br />
Male of this Famiy. Thi sam Fabritio had indeed (as Leonora told<br />
Hippolito) take particular notice of him from hi first entrance into the<br />
Room, and was so far doubtful as to go out immdiately himelf, and<br />
make enquiry concerng Lorezo, but was quickly inform'd of the<br />
greatness of his Error, in believig a Man to be abroad, who was so ill of<br />
his Wounds, that they now despair'd of hi recovery; and thereupon<br />
return'd to the Ball very well satisfied, but not before Leonra and<br />
Hippolito were departed.<br />
So, Reader, having now diharg'd my Conscience of a small<br />
Disvery whi I thought my sef obliged to make to Thee, I proeed to<br />
te thee, that our Friend Aurelian had by this tie daned hielf into a<br />
Net wh he nthr could, nor wich is wrse desired to untangle.<br />
His Soul was charm'd to the movement of her Body: an Air so<br />
graceful, so sweet, s easie and so great, he had never seen She had<br />
sthing of Majesty in her, whic appear'd to be born with hr; and<br />
though it struck an awe ito the Behoders, yet was it seetned with a<br />
familiarity of Behaviour, wich rendred it agreeable to every Body. Th<br />
grandeur of her Mien was not stiff, but unstudied and unforced, mixed<br />
18
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
with a simplicity; free, yet not loose nor affected. If the former seem'd to<br />
condeend, the latter seem'd to aspire; and both to unite in the centre of<br />
Perfection. Every turn se gave in dancing snatcht Aurean into a<br />
Rapture, and he had like to have been out two or three tis with<br />
follng his Eyes, which se led about as Slaves to her Hes.<br />
A soo as they had don dancing, he began to coplain of his want of<br />
Breath and Lungs, to speak sufficietly in her Condati; She<br />
smilingly told him, he did ill to dance so much th: Yet in<br />
Consideration of the pai he had taken more than ordiary upon hr<br />
account she would bate him a great deal of Coplement, but with this<br />
Proviso, That he was to disover to her who he was. Aurelian was<br />
unwilling for the preset to own hielf to be really the Man he was;<br />
when a suddain thought came into hi Head to take upon hi the Nam<br />
and Character of Hippolito, who he was sure was not kno in Florence.<br />
He thereupon, after a little pause, pretended to recal himself in this manner:<br />
'Madam, it is n small demonstrati of the entire Resignation which I<br />
have made of my Heart to your Chains, since the secrets of it are no longer<br />
in my power. I confess I ony took Florence in my way, not designing<br />
any longer Residee, than should be requisite to inform the Curiosity of a<br />
Traveller, of the rareties of the Place. Whether Happines or Miry will<br />
be the Coquence of that Curiity, I am yet in fear, and submit to your<br />
Determination; but sure I am, not to depart Florence til you have made m<br />
the most miserable Man in it, and refus me the fatal Kindness of Dying at<br />
your Feet. I am by Birth a Spaniard, of the City of Toledo; my name<br />
Hippolito di Savilina: I was yeterday a Man free, as Nature made th<br />
first; to day I am fallen into a Captivity, which must continue with my Life,<br />
and wh, it is in your power, to make much dearer to me Thus in<br />
obedience to your Coands, and contrary to my Resolution of<br />
remaining unknown in this place, I have inform'd you, Madam, what I am;<br />
what I shall be, I desire to know from you; at least, I hope, the free<br />
discovery I have made of my self, wi ecourage you to trust me with the<br />
knowldge of your Pers<br />
Here a low bow, and a deep sigh, put an end to his Discourse, and<br />
signifid hi Expectation of hr Reply, whi was to this purpose-- (But I<br />
19
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
had forgot to tell you, That Aurelian kept off hs Mask from the time that<br />
h told hr he was of Spain, till the period of h Relati) Had I<br />
thought (said she) that my Curiosty would have brought me i debt, I<br />
should certainly have forborn it; or at least have agreed with you before<br />
hand about the rate of your discovery, then I had nt brought my self to the<br />
Incovency of being ceur'd, ether of too much easines or<br />
reservedness; but to avoid, as much as I can, the extreamity of either, I am<br />
resolv'd but to diver my sef in part, and will endeavour to give you as<br />
little occasion as I can, ether to boast of, or ridicule the Behaviour of the<br />
Won of Florence in your Traves.<br />
Aurelian iterrupted her, and swore very solely (and the more<br />
heartiy, I beve, because h then indeed spoke truth) that he would make<br />
Florence the place of his abode, whatever concerns he had esewhere.<br />
She advied him to be cautious ho he swore to his Expresons of<br />
Gallantry; and farther told him she now hoped she should make him a<br />
return to all the Fine Thgs h had said, since she gave him hi choice<br />
whether he would know who she was, or see her Face.<br />
Aurelian wo was really in Love, and i wh Consideration would<br />
have been a Crime, greedily ebrac'd the latter, since se asured him at<br />
that ti he should not know both. Well, what foow'd? Why, she<br />
pull'd off her Mask, and appear'd to him at once in the Glory of Beauty.<br />
But wh can te the astonishment Aurelian felt? He was for a ti<br />
sens; Admration had suppress'd his Spee, and hi Eyes wre<br />
entangled i Light. I short, to be made sensible of hi condition, we must<br />
conceive some Idea of what he beheld, which is not to imagined til s,<br />
nor then to be express'd. Now see the impertinence and conceitedness of<br />
an Authr, who will have a fling at a Deription, which he has Prefacd<br />
wth an impossibility. One mght have seen sthing in her<br />
Composition resembling the Formation of Epicurus hi World, as if every<br />
Atome of Beauty had concurr'd to unite an excellency. Had that curius<br />
Painter lived in her days, he might have avoded hi painful search, wh<br />
he cllected from the choicest pieces the mst choice Feature, and by a<br />
due Diposition and Judius Symtry of those exquite parts, made<br />
one whe and perfect Veus. Nature seem'd here to have play'd the<br />
20
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Plagiary, and to have moded into Substance the mot refined Thoughts of<br />
inspired Poets. Her Eyes diffus'd Rays comfortable as warmth, and<br />
piercing as the light; they would have worked a pasage through th<br />
straightet Pores, and with a delicious heat, have play'd about the most<br />
obdurate frozen Heart, untill 'twere meted dow to Love. Such Majesty<br />
and Affability were in her Looks; so alluring, yet commanding was her<br />
Presence, that it minged awe with love; kindling a Flame which trembled<br />
to aspire. She had danced much, which, together with her beg close<br />
masked, gave her a tincture of Carnation more than ordiary. But<br />
Aurelian (from wh I had every tittle of her Descripti) fancy'd he saw<br />
a little Net of Cupids break from the Tress of her Hair, and every one<br />
officiousy betake hielf to his task. Some fann'd with their downy<br />
Wings, her glowing Cheeks; while others brush'd the balmy De from off<br />
hr Face, leaving alone a heavenly Moiture blubbing on hr Lips, on<br />
ich they drank and revell'd for thr pai; Nay, so particular were thr<br />
allotmts in her service, that Aurelian was very poitive a young Cupid<br />
who was but just Pen-feather'd, employ'd hs naked Qui to pik her<br />
Teeth. And a thousand othr things his transport represented to him, whi<br />
none but Lovers who have experience of such Vi wi beve.<br />
As soon as he awaked and found his Speech co to him, he employ'd<br />
it to this effect:<br />
''Ti enough that I have seen a Divinity--Nothing but Mercy can<br />
inhabit the Perfection--Their utmst rigour brings a Death preferabl to<br />
any Life, but wat they give--Use me, Madam, as you please; for by your<br />
fair sf, I cannot think a Bliss beyond what now I feel--You wound with<br />
Pleasure, and if you Kill it must be with Transport--Ah! Yet methks to<br />
live--O Heave! to have Life prounced by those Blss'd Lips--Did they<br />
not inspire where they command, it were an immdiate Death of Joy.<br />
Aurelian was grog a littl too loud with his Admrati, had s<br />
t just then interrupted hi, by clapping o her Masque, and teg hi<br />
they should be obsrved, if h proceeded in his Extravagance; and withal,<br />
that his Passion was to suddain to be real, and too violent to be lasting.<br />
He replied, Indeed it might not be very lasting, (with a submissive<br />
mournful Voice) but it would ctiue during his Life. That it was<br />
21
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
suddain, h denied, for she had raisd it by degrees from his first sight of<br />
hr, by a continued discovery of Charms, in her Mien and Conversation,<br />
ti se thought fit to set Fire to the Train she had laid, by the Lightning of<br />
her Face; and then he could not help it, if he were blown up.<br />
He begg'd her to believe the Sincerity of his Pas, at least to enjo<br />
sothg, whic might tend to the Convincing of her Incredulity.<br />
She said, she should find a tim to make so Trial of h; but for the<br />
first, she charged him not to foll or observe hr, after the Dissolution of<br />
the Asembly. He promised to obey, and entreated her to tell him but her<br />
Nam, that he might have Recourse to that i his Affliction for her<br />
Absence, if he were able to survive it. She desired him to live by all<br />
means; and if he must have a Nam to play with, to call her Inognita, till<br />
were better iformed.<br />
The Company breaking up, she took her leave, and at his earnest<br />
Entreaty, gave him a short Vion of her Face which, then dress'd in an<br />
obligig smile, caused another fit of Tranport, wich lasted til she was<br />
gone out of Sight. Aurelian gathered up his Spirits, and walked sowly<br />
towards hi Lodging, never remebring that h had lost Hippolito, ti<br />
upo turnng the Corner of a Street, he heard a noise of Fighting; and<br />
comng near, saw a Man make a vigorous Defence against two, who<br />
pressed violently upon hi He then thought of Hippolito, and fancyig<br />
he saw the glimmring of Diamond Buttons, suc as Hippoto had upo<br />
the Sleeve of hi Habit, idiately drew to his Assistance; and with that<br />
Eagerness and Resolution, that the Aailants, finding their unmany odds<br />
defeated, took to their Heels The Person rescued by the Generous Help of<br />
Aurelian, came toward him; but as he would have stop'd to have saluted<br />
him, dropp'd, fainting at h feet. Aurelian, no he was s near h,<br />
perceiv'd plainly Hippoto's Habit, and step'd hastily to take hi up. Just<br />
as so of the Guards (who wre going the Rounds, apprehsive of suc<br />
Dirders in an Unversal Merriment) cam up to him with Lights, and<br />
had taken Prisoners the Two Men, whom they mt with thr Sword's<br />
drawn; when looking in the Face of the Wounded Man, he found it was not<br />
Hippolito, but h Governour Claudio, in the Habit h had worn at the Ball.<br />
He was extreamly surpriz'd, as were the Prisoners, who confess'd their<br />
22
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Design to have been upon Lorenzo; grounding their Mistake upon th<br />
Habit wich was kn to have been his. They were Two Men wh<br />
formerly had been Servants to hi, whom Lorenzo had unfortunately<br />
slain.<br />
They made a shft to bring Claudio to himelf; and part of the Guard<br />
carrying off the Prioners, w Aurelian dered they would secure, th<br />
rest accompanied hi bearing Claudio in their Arm to his Lodging. He<br />
ad not patience to forbear asking for Hippolito by the Way; who<br />
Claudio assured him, he had left safe in h Chamber, above Two Hours<br />
since. That his cong Ho so long before the Divertisements wre<br />
ended, and Undresng hielf, had give him the Unhappy Curiosty, to<br />
put on his Habit, and go to the Pallace; in his Return from whence, he was<br />
set upo in the Maner he found h, which if he reovered, he must own<br />
s Life indebted to his tily Assistance.<br />
Being co to the House, they carried him to his Bed, and having sent<br />
for Surgeons Aurelian rewarded and dismissed the Guard. He stay'd the<br />
dresg of Claudio's Wounds, which were many, though they hop'd no<br />
Mortal: and leaving h to his Rest, went to give Hippolito an Account<br />
of wat had happened, wh he found with a Table before hi, leaning<br />
upo both his Elbo, his Face covered with hs Hands, and so motionless,<br />
that Aurelian couded he was asleep; seeig several Papers lie before<br />
him, half written and bltted out again, he thought to steal sftly to th<br />
Table, and diver what he had been employed about. Just as he reach'd<br />
forth h Hand to take up one of the Papers, Hippolito started up so o th<br />
uddain, as surpriz'd Aurelian and made him leap back; Hippolito, on the<br />
other hand, not supposing that any Body had been near hi, was so<br />
disordered with the Appearance of a Man at his Elbow, (whom his<br />
Amazement did not permit him to distigui) that he leap'd hastily to his<br />
Sword, and in turning him about, overthrew the Stand and Candles. Here<br />
were they both left in the Dark, Hippolito groping about with his Sword,<br />
and thrusting at every Chair that he felt oppose hi Aurelian was scarce<br />
co to helf, when thinking to step back toward the Door that he<br />
ght inform hi Friend of h Mistake, without exposing himelf to his<br />
blind Fury; Hippoto heard him stir, and made a full thrust with such<br />
23
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Violence, that the Hilt of the Sword meeting with Aurelian's Breast beat<br />
h do, and Hippolito a top of hi, as a Servant alarm'd with the noise,<br />
came into the Chamber with a Light. The Fell trembled, and thought<br />
they were both Dead, till Hippolito raising himelf, to see wh he had<br />
got under him, swoon'd away upon the discovery of his Friend. But suc<br />
was the extraordinary Care of Providence in directing the Sword, that it<br />
only past under his Arm, givig no Wound to Aurelia, but a little Bruise<br />
betwen his Shulder and Breast wth the Hilt. He got up, scarce<br />
recovered of his Fright, and by the hep of the Servant; laid Hippolito upon<br />
the Bed; who wh he was co to himself could hardly be perswaded,<br />
that hi Fried was before him and alive, till he shew'd him his Breast,<br />
where was nothing of a Wound. Hippolito begg'd his Pardon a Thousand<br />
Tis, and curs'd hielf as often, who was so near to committing the<br />
st Execrable Act of Amicide.<br />
They dismiss'd the Fellow, and with many Embraces, congratulated<br />
their fortunate Delivery from the Mischief which cam so near them, each<br />
blamig himelf as the Occasion: Aurelian accusing his o<br />
unadvidness in stealing upon Hippolito; Hippolito blamig hi o<br />
temerity and weakness, in being so easily frighted to Disorder; and last of<br />
all, h blindness, in not knog his dearest Fried. But there h gave a<br />
Sigh, and passionately taking Aurelian by the Hand, cry'd, A! my Friend,<br />
Love is indeed blind, wh it would not suffer me to see you--There arose<br />
another Sigh; a Sympathy seiz'd Aurelian immdiately: (For, by the Way,<br />
sighng is as catchig among Lovers, as yawg among the Vulgar.)<br />
Beside hearing the Nam of Love, made h fetch such a Sigh, that<br />
Hippolito's were but Fly-bl in Comparison, that was answered with all<br />
the Might Hippoto had, Aurean ply'd him close til they were both out<br />
of Breath<br />
Thus not a Word pass'd, though each wondred why the t'othr sigh'd, at<br />
last concluded it to be ony Complaisance to one another.<br />
Aurelian broke the Sile, by teg hi the Misfortune of his<br />
Governour. Hippolito rejoic'd as at the luckiest Accident whic could<br />
have befall'n hi Aurelian wodred at his unseasable Mirth, and<br />
demanded the Cause of it; he answer'd, It would necessitate his lger<br />
24
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Stay in Florence, and for ought he knew be the Means of bringing a happy<br />
Period to his Aour.<br />
His Friend thought him to be little better than a Madman, wen he<br />
perceiv'd him of a suddai snatc out of hi Bo a Handkerchef, which<br />
having kis'd with a great deal of Ardour, he took Aurelian by the Hand,<br />
and smiling at the Surprize he saw hi in;<br />
'Your Florentine Cupid i certainy (said he) 'the mst Expert in the<br />
World. I have since I saw you beheld the most Beautiful of Won. I<br />
am faln deperatey in Love wth her, and thoe Papers which you see so<br />
blotted and scattered, are but so many Essays which I have made to th<br />
Declarati of my Passion. Ad ths Handkercef which I so zealusly<br />
Caress, is the Inestimable Toke wh I have to make my sef known to<br />
her. 'O Leonora! (contiued he) 'how hast thou stamp'd thine Image on<br />
my Soul! Ho much dearer am I to my self, since I have had thy<br />
Heavenly Form in keeping! Now, my Aurelian, I am worthy thee; my<br />
exalted Love has Dignified m, and rais'd m far above thy poor former<br />
Despiable Hippolito.<br />
urelian seeing the Rapture he was in, thought it in vain to expect a<br />
sttled Relation of the Adveture, s was reaching to the Table for som of<br />
the Papers, but Hippolito told hi, If he would have a little patience he<br />
would acquaint him with the whole Matter; and thereupon told him Word<br />
for Word ho he was mistaken for Lorenzo, and his Management of<br />
helf. Aurelian commended his Prudence, in nt discovering himelf;<br />
and told him, If he could spare so much tim from the Contemplation of<br />
his Mitress, he would inform him of an Adveture, though not so<br />
Accidental, yet of as great Concern to hi ow future Happinss. So<br />
related all that had happened to him with his Beautiful <strong>Incognita</strong>.<br />
Having ended the Story, they began to consider of the Means they<br />
were to use toward a Review of their Mistresses. Aurelian was<br />
Confounded at the Difficulty he conceived on hs Part. He understod<br />
from Hippoito's Adventure, that his Father knew of his beg i Town,<br />
whom he must unavoidably Disoblge if he yet concealed hielf, and<br />
Diobey if he cam into his Sight; for he had already entertain'd an<br />
Aversion for Juliana, in apprehension of hr being Impoed on him His<br />
25
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
<strong>Incognita</strong> was rooted in hi Heart, yet could he not Comfort hielf with<br />
any Hopes wen he should see her: He knew not were she lived, and<br />
she had made him no Promise of a second Conference. Th did he<br />
repent his inconsiderate Choice, in preferring the montary Vision of her<br />
Face, to a certain Intelligece of hr Person. Every thought that<br />
succeeded ditracted hi, and all the Hopes he could presume upon, were<br />
wth compass of the Two Days Merriment yet to co; for which Space<br />
h hop'd h might excuse his remaig conceal'd to his Father.<br />
Hippolito on the othr sde (though Aurelian thought h in a much<br />
better Way) was no le afflted for hielf. The Difficulties which he<br />
saw in his Friend's Circumstances, put hi upon fidig out a great many<br />
mre in his own, than really there were But wat terrified him most of<br />
all, was his being an utter Stranger to Leonora; she had nt the least<br />
knowldge of hi but through mistake, and conequently could form no<br />
Idea of him to h Advantage. He lok'd upon it as an unlucky thought in<br />
Aurelian to take upon him hi Name, sice possibly the Tw Ladi were<br />
acquainted, and should they comunicate to each other their Adventures;<br />
they might both reasonably suffer i their Opinions, and be thought guilty<br />
of Falshood, since it wuld appear to them as One Perso preteding to<br />
Tw Aurelian told him, there was but one Remedy for that, which was<br />
for Hippoto, in the same Manner that he had do, to make use of hi<br />
Nam, when he writ to Leonora, and use what argumts h could to<br />
perswade her to Secrecy, least his Father should know of the Reason<br />
wich kept h concealed in To Ad it was likely, though perhaps<br />
she mght not immdiately entertain hs Passi; yet she wuld out of<br />
Generoity conceal, what was hidden only for her sake<br />
We this was concluded on, after a great many othr Reasons used on<br />
either Side, in favour of the Contrivane; they at last argued themsves<br />
to a Belief, that Fortune had befriended them with a better Plot, than<br />
their regular Thking could have cotriv'd. So s had they convic'd<br />
themslves, in what they were wiling to believe.<br />
Aurelian laid himelf down to rest, that is, upon the Bed; for he was a<br />
better Lover than to pretend to sleep that Night, while Hippolito st<br />
himself again to frame his Letter desgn'd for Lenora. He writ several,<br />
26
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
at last pitched upon one, and very probably the worst, as you may guess<br />
when you read it in its proper Place.<br />
It was break of Day wen the Servant, who had been employed all the<br />
foregoing Day in procuring Acutrements for the Two Cavaliers, to<br />
appear in at the Tilting, came into the Ro, and told them all the Young<br />
Gentl in the Town were tryig their Equipage, and preparing to be<br />
early in the Lists. They made themselves ready with all Expedition at th<br />
arm: and Hippoto havig made a Viit to his Governour, dipatch'd a<br />
Messenger with the Letter and Directions to Leonora. At the Signal<br />
agreed upon the Caset was opened and a String let dow, to wh the<br />
Bearer having fastned the Letter, saw it drawn up, and returned. It were a<br />
vain attept to describe Leonora's Surprize, when she read the<br />
Superscription--The Unfortunate Aurelian, to the Beautiful Leonora--<br />
After she was a little recovered from her Amaze, she recollected to her slf<br />
all the Passage between her and her supposed Cousin, and immdiately<br />
concluded hi to be Aurelian. Then several littl Circumtances whic<br />
she thught might have been suffiient to have convinced her, represted<br />
themslves to her; and she was in a strange Uneasiness to think of hr free<br />
Carriage to a Stranger.<br />
She was once in a Mind to have burn'd the Letter, or to have stay'd for<br />
an Opportunity to send it again. But she was a Woan, and her Curiosity<br />
opposd it sf to all thoughts of that Nature: at length with a firm<br />
Resoution, she opened it, and found Word for Word, what is underwritten.<br />
The Letter.<br />
MADAM,<br />
If your fair Eyes, upon the breaking up of this, meet with sat<br />
too quick a Surprize, make thence, I beseech you, some reflection upon<br />
the Condition I must neds have been i, at the suddain Appearance of that<br />
Sun of Beauty, whi at oe shone s full upon my soul. I could not<br />
immdiately disegage my self from that Maze of Carms, to let you<br />
know h unrthy a Captive your Eyes had made through mistake.<br />
Sure, Madam, you cannot but remeber my Disorder, of which your<br />
Innocent (Innent, though perhaps to m Fatal) Error made a Charitable<br />
(but wde) Constructi Your Tongue pursued the Vitory of your Eyes,<br />
27
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
and you did not give me tim to rally my poor Disordered Sens, so as to<br />
make a torable Retreat. Pardon, Madam, the Continuation of th<br />
Deceipt, and call it not so, that I appear'd to be other than my self; for<br />
Heaven knows I was nt th my self, nr am I now my own. You told<br />
m something that concern'd me nearly, as to a Marriage my Father<br />
design'd m, and much mre nearly in being tod by you. For Heaven's<br />
sake, disclse nt to any Body your Knowledge of me, that I may not be<br />
forced to an immdiate Act of Disobedience; for if my future Services and<br />
inviolate Love, cannot recomend me to your Favour, I shall find more<br />
comfort in the cold Embraces of a Grave, than in the Arms of the never so<br />
uch admired (but by m dreaded) Juliana. Thk, Madam, of thos<br />
severe Circumstances I lie under; and withal I beg you, think it is in your<br />
Power, and only in your Por, to make them happy as my Wishes, or<br />
much mre mserable than I am able to imagine. That dear, inestimable<br />
(though undeign'd) Favour which I receiv'd from you, shall this Day<br />
distigui m from the Crowd of your Admrers; that which I really<br />
applied to my inward bleedig Wound, the w Wound which you<br />
have made, and which, unles from you, does wi no Cure; then pardon<br />
and have pity on, O Adored Leonora, him, who is your's by Creatio as he<br />
is Heave's, though never so unrthy. Have pity on<br />
Your Aurelian<br />
She read the Letter over and over, then flung it by, then read it again;<br />
the Novety of the Adveture made her repeat her Curiosity, and take more<br />
than ordiary Pains to understand it. At last her Familiarity with th<br />
Expressios grew to an Intimacy, and wat she at first permitted she n<br />
began to like. She thought there was sthing in it a little more serius,<br />
than to be barely Gallantry. She wondred at her own Bldns, and<br />
fancy'd she could reber something of a more becoming Ar in th<br />
Stranger than was usual to Lorenzo This thought was parent to anothr<br />
of the same kind, till a lg Cain successively had Birth, and every one<br />
swhat mre than other, i Favour of the supposed Aurelian. She<br />
reflected upon his Diretio, in deferring the Discovery of himself, ti a<br />
little ti had, as it wre, weand her from her persason, and by<br />
removing her farther from her Mistake, had prepared her for a full and<br />
28
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
determiate Convicement. She thought his Behaviour, in personating a<br />
Sick Man so readiy, upon the first ht was not amiss, and smil'd to thk<br />
of hi Excus to proure her Handkerchief; and last of all, his sifting out<br />
the Means to write to her, which he had doe wth that Modesty and<br />
Respect, she could nt tell how to find fault with it.<br />
She had proceeded thus far in a maze of Thought, when she started to<br />
find her self so lost to her Reaso, and would have trod back again that<br />
path of deluding Fancy; accusing her self of Fondn, and innsiderate<br />
Easi, in giving Credit to the Letter of a Person whose Face she never<br />
saw, and whose first Acquaintance with her was a Treacery, and he who<br />
could so readily deliver his Tongue of a Lye upon a Surprize, was scarce to<br />
be trusted when he had suffiient Ti allow'd h to beget a Fiction, and<br />
Means to perfect the Birth.<br />
Ho did she know th to be Aurelian, if he were? Nay farther, put it<br />
to the Extremity, What if she should upon farther Conversation with hi<br />
proceed to Love hi? What Hopes wre there for her? Or ho could<br />
she consent to Marry a Man already Destined for another Woan? nay, a<br />
Woan that was her Friend, whe Marrying with him was to copleat<br />
the happy Reconciliatio of Two Noble Families, and wich might prevet<br />
the Effusio of much Blood likely to be shed in that Quarrel: Besides,<br />
se should icurr sare of the Guilt, which he would draw upon h by<br />
Disobedience to his Father, whom she was sure would not be consenting<br />
to it.<br />
'Ti strange now, but all Accounts agree, that just here Leonora, who<br />
had run like a violent Stream against Aurelian htherto, now retorted with<br />
as much precipitation in his Favour. I could never get any Body to give<br />
m a satisfactory reason, for her suddain and dextrous Change of Opi<br />
just at that stop, whic made me colude she could not hp it; and that<br />
Nature boil'd over in her at that tie when it had s fair an Opportunity to<br />
show it self: For Lera it seems was a Woan Beautiful, and<br />
otherwise of an excellent Dipoition; but in the Bottom a very Woan.<br />
This last Objectio, this Opportunity of perswading Man to Disobedience,<br />
determined the Matter in Favour of Aurelian, mre than all his<br />
Excellencies and Qualifications, take hi as Aurelian, or Hippolito, or<br />
29
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
both together.<br />
We, the Spirit of Contradition and of Eve was strong in her; and she<br />
was in a fair Way to Love Aurelian, for se lik'd hi already; that it was<br />
Aurelian she no longer doubted, for had it been a Viain, wo had only<br />
taken his Nam upon hi for any ill Degns, he would never have slip'd<br />
s favourable an Opportunity as when they were alone and in the Night<br />
comng through the Garde and broad Space before the Piazza. In sort,<br />
thus much she relv'd, at least to conceal the Knowledge she had of him,<br />
as he had entreated her in hi Letter, and to make particular Remarks of his<br />
Behaviour that Day in the Lists, wh should it happen to Charm her with<br />
an absolute liking of his Person, she resolv'd to dres hr sf to the best<br />
Advantage, and mustering up all her Graces, out of pure Revenge to kill<br />
him down right.<br />
I would not have the Reader now be impertint, and lok upo thi to<br />
be force, or a whim of the Author's, that a Woan should proceed so far in<br />
her Approbation of a Man wh she never saw, that it is impossble,<br />
therefore ridiculous to suppose it. Let me te such a Critick, that he<br />
knows nothg of the Sex, if he does not know that Woan may be taken<br />
with the Character and Description of a Man, when geral and<br />
extraordinary, that she may be prepossess'd with an agreeable Idea of his<br />
Person and Conversation; and though she cannot imagine his real Features,<br />
or manner of Wit, yet she has a general Notio of wat is call'd a fine<br />
Gentlan, and i prepar'd to like such a one who does not disagree wth<br />
that Character. Aurelian, as he bore a very fair Character, so was he<br />
extreamly deservig to make it good, which othrways might have been to<br />
prejudie; for oftentim, through an imprudent Indulgence to our<br />
Friends merit, we give so large a Description of hi excellencies, that<br />
People make more room in their Expectation, than the Intrinsick worth of<br />
the Man wi fill, which renders him so much the more despicable as there<br />
is emptyness to spare. 'Tis certain, though the Won seldom find that<br />
out; for though they do not see so much in a Man as was promised, yet<br />
they will be so kind to imagine he has so hidden excelencies; w<br />
tie may diover to them, so are content to allow, hi a considerable<br />
share of their eteem, and take him into Favour upon Tick. Aurelian as<br />
30
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
he had good Credit, so he had a good Stock to support it, and hs Person<br />
was a god promising Security for the payment of any Obligation he could<br />
l under to the Fair Sex. Hippolito, who at this tie was our Aurelian, did<br />
not at all lessen him in appearing for him: So that althugh Leonora was<br />
deed mtaken, se could nt be said to be much in the wrong. I could<br />
find in my Heart to beg the Reader's pardon for this Digression, if I<br />
thought h would be sensible of the Civility; for I proe hi, I do not<br />
intend to do it again throughut the Story, though I make never so many,<br />
and thugh he take them never s ill. But because I began th upo a<br />
bare Suppotion of his Impertince, wich might be soat<br />
impertinent in me to suppoe, I do, and hope to make him amends by<br />
tellg hi, that by the time Leonora was dress'd, several Ladi of her<br />
acquaintance came to accompany her to the place designed for the Tilting,<br />
were we wi leave them drinking Chocholate till 'ti ti for them to go<br />
Our Cavalers had by good Fortune provided themselves of two<br />
curious Suits of light Armur, finy enammelld and git. Hippolito had<br />
sent to Poggio Imperiale for a coupl of fine led Hors which he had left<br />
there with the rest of his Train at his entrance into Florence. Mounted on<br />
these and every way well Equipt, they took thir way, attended only by<br />
two Lacqueys, toard the Church di Santa Croce, before wh they wre<br />
to perform their Exercis of Chivalry. Hippolito wore upo his Helm a<br />
large Plume of Crimson Feathers, in the midst of which was artificially<br />
placed Lenora's Handkerchef. His Armour was gilt, and enammll'd with<br />
Green and Crimson. Aurean was not so happy as to wear any token to<br />
recommend him to the ntice of his Mistress, so had oly a Plume of Skycolour<br />
and White Feathers, suitabl to hi Armour, whi was Silver<br />
enammlled with Azure. I shall not describe the Habits of any other<br />
Cavaliers, or of the Ladi; let it suffice to tell the Reader they were all<br />
very Fine and very Glorious, and let hi dress them in wat is mst<br />
agreeable to his own Fancy.<br />
Our Gallants entred the Lists, and having made their Obeysance to his<br />
Highness, turned round to salute and view the Copany. The Scaffold<br />
was circular, so that there was no end of the Delightful Prospect. It seem'd<br />
a Glory of Beauty whi shone around the admring Behoders. Our<br />
31
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Lovers soon perceived the Stars whh were to Rule thr Detiy, wich<br />
sparkled a lustre beyond all the inferiour Consteations, and seem'd like<br />
two Sun to ditribute Light to all the Planets in that Heavely Sphere<br />
Leonora knew her Slave by his Badge and blushed ti the Lilies and Roses<br />
in her cheeks had resemblance to the Plume of Crimson and Whte<br />
Handkerchief in Hippolito's Crest. He made her a low bow, and reined<br />
his Horse back with an extraordinary Grace, into a repectful retreat.<br />
Aurelian saw his Angel, his beautiful Ingnita, and had no other way to<br />
make himself known to her, but by salutig and bowing to her after th<br />
Spanish mode; she guess'd hi by it to be hr new Servant Hippolito, and<br />
signifid hr apprehension, by making him a more particular and obliging<br />
return, than to any of the Cavaliers who had saluted hr before.<br />
The Exercise that was to be perform'd was in general a running at the<br />
Ring; and afterwards two Cavaliers undertook to defend the Beauty of<br />
Donna Catharina, against all who would not allow her preheminence of<br />
their Mitreses. Th thing was only designd for show and form, none<br />
presuming that any body wuld put so great an affront upon the Bride and<br />
Duke's Kinswoan, as to dispute her pretentions to the first place in the<br />
Court of Venus. But hre our Cavaliers were under a mitake; for seeing<br />
a large Shield carry'd before two Knghts, with a Lady painted upo it; nt<br />
kning who, but reading the Inscription which was (in large Gold Letters)<br />
Above the Insolece of Competition. They thught themslves obliged,<br />
especially in the presece of their Mitresses, to vindicate their Beauty;<br />
and were just spurring on to engage the Champi, when a Gentleman<br />
topping them, told them their mtake, that it was the Picture of Donna<br />
Catharina, and a particular Honour done to her by hi Highness's<br />
Commands, and nt to be disputed. Upon thi they would have returned<br />
to their Pot, much concerned for their mistake; but ntice being taken by<br />
Don Ferdinand of s Show of Opposition that was made, he would<br />
have begged leave of the Duke, to have maintained his Lady's Hour<br />
against the Insolce of those Cavaliers; but the Duke wuld by no means<br />
permit it. They were arguing about it when one of them came up, before<br />
whom the Shield was born, and demanded h Highness's Permissi, to<br />
inform those Gentlemen better of their mistake, by giving them the Foyl<br />
32
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
<strong>By</strong> the Interceson of Don Ferdiand, leave was given them; whereupon a<br />
Civil Challenge was snt to the tw Strangers, informig them of their<br />
Error, and withal telling them they must either maintain it by force of<br />
Arm, or make a publk acknowledgment by ridig bare headed before<br />
the Piture once round the Lists. The Stranger-Cavaliers reonstrated to<br />
the Duke ho sensible they were of their Error, and thugh they would not<br />
justifie it, yet they could not decle the Cbate, being pressed to it<br />
beyond an honourable refusal. To the Bride they sent a Cplement,<br />
werein, having first begg'd her pardon for not knng her Piture, they<br />
gave her to understand, that now they were not about to dipute her<br />
undoubted right to the Crow of Beauty, but the honour of beg her<br />
Champions was the Prize they fought for, which they thought themsves<br />
as able to maintain as any other Pretenders. Wherefore they pray'd her,<br />
that if fortun so far befriended their endeavours as to make them Victors,<br />
that they mght receive no other Reward, but to be crown'd with the Titl<br />
of their Adversaries, and be ever after esteem'd as her most humble<br />
Servants. The excuse was s handsomely designed, and much better<br />
express'd than it is hre, that it took effect. The Duke, Don Ferdinand<br />
and his Lady were so well satisfied with it as to grant their Request.<br />
Wh the running at the Ring lasted, our Cavaliers alternately bore<br />
away great share of the Hoour. That Sport eded, Marshals were<br />
appointed for the Field, and every thing in great form settled for the<br />
Combat. The Cavaliers were all in good earnest, but orders were given<br />
to bring 'em blunted Lances, and to forbid the drawing of a Sword upo<br />
pain of his Highs's Dipleasure. The Trumpets sounded and they<br />
began their Course: The Ladies' Hearts, particularly the Ingnita and<br />
Leonora's beat time to the Hors Hoofs, and hope and fear made a mck<br />
Fight within their teder Breasts, each wishing and doubting success<br />
where se lik'd: But as the generality of their Prayers were for the<br />
graceful Strangers, they accordingly succeeded. Aurelian's Adversary was<br />
unhorsed i the first Enunter, and Hippolito's lost both Stirrups and<br />
dropt his Lance to save himself. The Honour of the Field was immdiately<br />
granted to them, and Don Catharia set them both Favours, which she<br />
pray'd them to wear as her Knights. The Crowd breaking up, our<br />
33
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Cavaliers made a shift to steal off unarked, save by the watchful<br />
Leonora and <strong>Incognita</strong>, whe Eyes wre never off from their respective<br />
Servants. There was enquiry made for them, but to n purpose; for they<br />
to prevet their being divered had prepared another House, distant<br />
from their Lodging, where a Servant attended to disarm them, and another<br />
carried back their Horses to the Via, while they walked unsuspected to<br />
their Lodgig; but Incognta had given cand to a Page to dog 'e till<br />
the Evening, at a ditance, and bring her word whre they were latest<br />
housed.<br />
While several Conjectures pas'd among the Company, who were all<br />
gone to Dinner at the Palace, who those Cavaliers should be, Don Fabio<br />
thought himself the only Man able to guess; for he knew for certain that<br />
his Son and Hippoto were both i To, and was we enugh pleased<br />
wth his humour of remaining Ingnito till the Diversion shuld be over,<br />
belivig th that the surprize of his Discovery would add much to th<br />
Gallantry he had shown in Masquerade; but hearing the extraordinary<br />
liking that every body express'd, and i a particular manner, the great<br />
Duke himself, to the Persons and Beaviur of the unknown Cavaliers, th<br />
Old Getleman could nt forbear the Vanity to tell hs Highnes, that he<br />
belived he had an iteret i one of the Getlemen, whom he was pleased<br />
to honour with so favourable a Character; and told him what reason he had<br />
to believe the one to be hi Son, and the other a Spanish Nobleman, hi<br />
Friend.<br />
Th discovery having thus got vent, was diffusd like Ar; every body<br />
suck'd it in, and let it out again wth their Breath to the next they mt<br />
withal; and i half an hours tim it was talked of in the House where our<br />
Adventurers were lodged. Aurelian was stark mad at the Ne, and<br />
knew what search would be immdiately made for him. Hippolito, had he<br />
not been desperately in Love, would certainly have taken Horse and rid<br />
out of Town just then, for he could make no longer doubt of beg<br />
discovered, and he was afraid of the just Excepti Lera mght make<br />
to a Perso who had no deceived her twice. Well, we wi leave them<br />
both frettig and cntriving to no purpoe, to look about and see what was<br />
done at the Palace, where their doom was determined much quicker than<br />
34
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
they imagined.<br />
Dinner ended, the Duke retired with so chosen Friends to a Glass of<br />
Wine; among wh were the Marquess of Viterbo and Don Fabio. Hi<br />
Highness was no Stranger to the long Fewd that had been between the tw<br />
Families, and al understood wat Overtures of Reconcilation had been<br />
ately made, with the Proposals of Marriage between Aurelian and the<br />
Marque's Daughter. Having waited till the Wi had taken the effect<br />
propod, and the Company were raised to an unon pitch of<br />
Chearfulness, which he al encouraged by an Example of Freedom and<br />
Good Humur, he took an opportunity of rallyig the tw grave Signiors<br />
into an Acodation: That was secoded with the praises of th<br />
young Couple, and the whe Copany joined in a large Enum upon<br />
the Graces of Aurelian and the Beauties of Juliana. The old Fellows were<br />
tikled with Delight to har their Darlings so admred, whic the Duke<br />
perceiving, out of a Prinple of Gerosity and Friendsp, urged th<br />
present Coummation of the Marriage; telling them there was yet one day<br />
of publick Rejoycg to com, and h glad he should be to have it<br />
iproved by so acceptable an Aliance; and what an honour it would be to<br />
have his Cousi's Marriage attended by the Conjunction of s<br />
extraordinary a Pair, the performance of whh Ceremony would crown<br />
the Joy that was then in Agitation, and make the last day vie for equal<br />
Glory and Happins with the first. In short, by the Coplaisant and<br />
Perswasive Authority of the Duke, the Dons were wrought into a<br />
Compliance, and accordingly embraced and sook Hands upon the Matter.<br />
Th Ne was dispersed like the former, and Don Fabi gave orders for<br />
the enquiring out his Son's Lodgig, that the Marque and he might make<br />
him a Visit, as son as he had acquainted Julana with his purpoe, that s<br />
ght prepare her self. He found her very chearful with Doa Catharina<br />
and sveral other Ladi; whereupon the old Gentleman, pretty well<br />
warmed with the Duke's Goodfellohip, told hr aloud he was co to<br />
crow their Mirth with another Wedding; that his Highness had been<br />
pleased to provide a Husband for his Daughter, and he would have her<br />
provide her self to receive him to-morrow. All the Copany at first, as<br />
wll as Julana her self, thught he had raly'd, till the Duke cong in<br />
35
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
confirmd the serious part of hi Discourse. Juliana was confounded at<br />
the haste that was imposed on her, and dered a little ti to consider<br />
what se was about. But the Marque told her, se should have all the<br />
rest of hr Life to consider in; that Aurelian should com and consider<br />
with her in the Morning, if she pleased; but in the mean time, he advised<br />
her to go home and cal her Maids to Coun<br />
Juliana took her leave of the Copany very gravely, as if not much<br />
delighted with her Fathr's Ralery. Leonora happeed to be by, and<br />
heard all that pasd; she was ready to swoon, and found her self seized<br />
with a more violent Passion than ever for Aurelian: Now upon her<br />
apprehensions of lng hi, her active fancy had brought hi before her<br />
with all the advantages imagiable, and though she had before found great<br />
tenderness in her Inclination toward him, yet was she somwhat surprized<br />
to find she really lov'd him. She was so uneasie at what se had heard,<br />
that she thought it convenient to steal out of the presence and retire to her<br />
Closet, to bean hr unhappy helpless Condition.<br />
Our Tw Cavalier-Lovers had rack'd their Invention till it was quite<br />
disabled, and could not make discovery of one Cotrivance mre for their<br />
Relief. Both sat sint, each depending upon his Fried, and still<br />
expecting wen t'other should speak. Night cam upon them while they<br />
sate thus thoughtles, or rather drod in Thought; but a Servant<br />
bringing Lights ito the Room awakened them: And Hippolito's Speech,<br />
usher'd by a profound Sigh, broke Silence.<br />
'Well! (said he) what must we do, Aurelian? We must suffer, replied<br />
Aurelian faintly. When immdiately raising hi Voice, he cry'd out, 'Oh<br />
ye unequal Pors, why do ye urge us to desre what ye doom us to<br />
forbear; give us a Will to chuse, th curb us wth a Duty to restrain that<br />
Choice! Cruel Father, Will nothing ese suffice! Am I to be th<br />
Sacrifice to expiate your Offences past; past ere I was born? Were I to<br />
lose my Life, I'd gladly Seal your Recoement wth my Blood. 'But<br />
Oh my Soul is free, you have no Title to my Immrtal Being, that has<br />
Exitence independent of your Power; and must I loe my Love, the<br />
Extract of that Being, the Joy, Light, Life, and Darlg of my Soul? No,<br />
I'll own my Flame, and plead my Title too.--But hod, wretced Aurelan,<br />
36
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
hold, whither does thy Passion hurry thee? Aas! the crue fair <strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Loves thee not! She knows not of thy Love! If se did, what Merit hast<br />
thou to preted?- -Only Love--Excess of Love. Ad all the World has<br />
that. All that have seen her. Yet I had only seen her once, and i that<br />
once I lov'd above the World; nay, lov'd beyod my self, suc vigorous<br />
Flame, so strong, so quick she darted at my Breast; it must rebound, and<br />
by Reflection, warm her self. A! welcome Thought, lovely deludig<br />
Fancy, hang sti upon my Soul, let m but think, that once se Loves and<br />
peri my Despair.<br />
Here a suddain stop gave a Period also to Hippolito's Expectation, and<br />
he hoped no that his Friend had given his Passion so free a vent, he<br />
mght recollect and bethink himelf of wat was convenint to be don;<br />
but Aurelia, as if he had mustered up all his Spirits purely to acquit<br />
himself of that passionate Harangue, stood mute and innsible like an<br />
arum Clock, that had spet all its force in one vit Emotion.<br />
Hippolito shook him by the Arm to rouze hi from h Lethargy, when hi<br />
Lacquey comng into th Room, out of Breath, tod him there was a Coac<br />
just stopp'd at the Door, but h did not take tim to who came in it.<br />
Aurelian concluded imdiately it was his Father i quest of him; and<br />
without saying any more to Hippolito, than that h was Ruined if<br />
discovered, took his Sword and slipp'd do a back pair of Stairs into the<br />
Garden, from whence he conveyed hielf into the Street. Hippolito had<br />
nt bethought helf what to do, before he perceiv'd a Lady com into<br />
the Chamber close veil'd, and make toward him. At the first Appearance<br />
of a Woan, his Imagination flattered him with a Thught of Leonora; but<br />
that was quickly over upon nearer Approach to the Lady, who had much<br />
the Advantage in Stature of his Mitress. He very civilly accosted her,<br />
and asked if he were the Perso to wh the Hoour of that Visit was<br />
teded. She said, her Business was with Don Hippolito di Saviolina, to<br />
whom she had Matter of Concern to import, and which required haste.<br />
He had like to have told her, That he was the Man, but by good Chance<br />
reflectig upon his Friend's Adventure, who had taken h name, he made<br />
Aswer, that he believed Don Hippoto not far off, and if she had a<br />
Moments Patience he would enquire for him.<br />
37
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
He went out, leaving the Lady i the Room, and made search all round<br />
the House and Garden for Aurelian, but to no purpose. The Lady<br />
impatient of hi log stay took a Pen and Ink and so Paper which she<br />
found upon the Table, and had just made an End of her Letter, w<br />
hearing a Noise of more than one comng up Stairs, she concluded his<br />
Friend had found him, and that her Letter would be to no purpoe, so tore<br />
it in pieces, wich she repented; wh turng about, she found her<br />
Mistake, and beheld Don Fabio and the Marque of Viterbo just entring at<br />
the Door. She gave a Shrik at the Surprize of their Appearance, which<br />
much troubled the Old Gentleme, and made them retire in Confusion for<br />
putting a Gentlan into such a Fright. The Marquess thinking they<br />
had been misinformed, or had mistake the Lodgigs, came forward again,<br />
and made an Apology to the Lady for their Errour; but se making no<br />
reply, walk'd directly by hi down Stairs and wnt into her Coach, wich<br />
hurried her away as speedily as the Hors were able to draw.<br />
The Dons were at a lss what to think, when, Hippolito comg into<br />
the Ro to give the Lady an Account of his Errant, was no les<br />
astohed to find she was departed, and had left Two Old Signrs in hr<br />
stead. He knew Don Fabio's Face, for Aurelian had shewn him his Father<br />
at the Tiltig; but being confidet he was not known to h, he ventur'd to<br />
ask h concerning a Lady w just n he had left i that Camber.<br />
Don Fabio told him, she was just gone do, and doubted they had been<br />
Guilty of a Mistake, in comg to enquire for a Couple of Gentl<br />
who they were informed were Lodged in that House; h begg'd hi<br />
Pardon if he had any Relati to that Lady, and desired to know if he<br />
could give them any Account of the Persons they sought for. Hippolito<br />
made answer, He was a Stranger in the Place, and only a Servant to that<br />
Lady w they had disturb'd, and wh he must go and seek out. Ad<br />
in this Perplexity he left them, going again in Search of Aurelian, to<br />
inform him of what had pased.<br />
The Old Gentlemen at last meeting with a Servant of the House, were<br />
directed to Signior Caudio's Chamber, where they were no soner entered<br />
but Aurelian came into the House. A Servant who had skulk'd for him by<br />
Hippolito's Order, folled hi up into the Chamber, and told him who<br />
38
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
was with Claudio then making Enquiry for him He thught that to be no<br />
Place for him, since Claudio must needs discover all the Truth to his<br />
Father; werefore h left Directions with the Servant, where Hippolito<br />
hould meet hi i the Morning. As he was going out of the Roo he<br />
espid the torn Paper, which the Lady had thro upo the Flr: Th<br />
first piece he took up had <strong>Incognita</strong> writte upon it; the sight of which s<br />
Alarum'd him, he scarce knew what he was about; but hearing a Noise of a<br />
Door opening over Head, wth as much Care as was consistent with th<br />
haste he was then in, he gathered up scattered pieces of Paper, and betok<br />
himself to a Ramble<br />
Coming by a Light which hung at the Corner of a Street, he jon'd th<br />
torn Papers and coected thus much, that Ingnita had Written the Note,<br />
and earnestly desired (if there were any realty in what he pretended to her)<br />
to meet her at Twelve a Clock that Night at a Convent Gate; but unluckily<br />
the Bit of Paper which should have mentiod what Convent, was broke<br />
off and lost.<br />
Here was a large Subject for Aurelian's Passi, which he did not spare<br />
to pour forth in Abundance of Curses on his Stars. So earnest was he i<br />
the Contemplatio of hi Misfortunes, that he walk'd on unwittingly; till at<br />
lngth Silence (and such as was oy to be found in that part the Town,<br />
wther his unguided Steps had carried him) surpriz'd his Attention. I say,<br />
a profound Silence rouzed him from hi Thought; and a clap of Thunder<br />
could have done no mre.<br />
Now because it is posible this at som tie or othr may happen to be<br />
read by some Malicious or Ignrant Person, (no Reflection upo the<br />
present Reader) who will not admt, or do nt understand that Silence<br />
should make a Man start; and have the same Effect, in provokig hi<br />
ttention, with its oppoite No; I wi illustrate thi matter, to suc a<br />
diminutive Critick, by a Parallel Instan of Light; wich though it does<br />
chiefly entertain the Eyes, and is indeed the prie Object of the Sight, yet<br />
should it immdiately cease, to have a Man left in the Dark by a suddai<br />
deficiency of it, would make him stare with his Eyes, and though he could<br />
nt see, endeavour to look about hi Why just thus did it fare with our<br />
Adventurer; who seeming to have wandred both into the Donion of<br />
39
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Silence and of Night, began to have some tender for his own Safety, and<br />
wuld wigly have groped his Way back agai; w he heard a Voce,<br />
as from a Person whose Breath had be stopp'd by some forcible<br />
Oppressio, and just the, by a violent Effort, was broke through th<br />
Restraint.--'Yet--Yet--(agai reply'd the Voe, still struggling for Air,)<br />
'Forbear--and I'll forgive what's past--I have done nothing yet that needs a<br />
Pardon, (says another) and what is to co, will admit of noe.<br />
Here the Perso who seemed to be the Oppressed, made several<br />
Attempts to speak, but they were only inarticulate Sounds, being al<br />
terrupted and choaked i their Pasage.<br />
Aurelian was suffintly astonish'd, and would have crept nearer to<br />
the Place whce he gued the Voce to come; but he was got among the<br />
Runes of an Old Monastery, and could nt stir so silently, but so loose<br />
Sto h met with made a rumbling. The Noise alarm'd both Parties;<br />
and as it gave Comfort to the one, it so Terrified the t'other, that he could<br />
not hinder the Oppresd from calling for help. Aurean fancy'd it was a<br />
Woan's Voice, and immdiately drawing hi Sword, demanded what was<br />
the Matter; he was answered with the Appearance of a Man, who had<br />
opened a Dark Lanthorn which he had by him, and came toward hi with<br />
a Pistol in his Hand ready cock'd.<br />
urelian seeing the irretabl advantage his Adversary had over him,<br />
wuld fai have retired; and, by the greatest Providence in the World,<br />
going backwards fell do over so loose Stoes that lay in hs Way,<br />
just i that Instant of Ti when the Viain fired his Pistol, who seeing<br />
him fall, concluded he had Sht hi The Crys of the afflicted Perso<br />
were redoubled at the Tragical Sight, which made the Murderer, drawing a<br />
Poniard, to threaten hi, that the next Murmur shuld be hi last.<br />
urelian, wo was scarce assured that he was unhurt, got softly up; and<br />
comng near eugh to perceive the Vice that was used to stop th<br />
Injured Man's Mouth; (for now h saw plainly it was a Man) cry'd out,--<br />
Turn, Villain, and look upon thy Death.--The Fellow amazed at the Voice,<br />
turn'd about to have snatc'd up the Lanthrn from the Ground; either to<br />
have given Light ony to himelf, or to have put out the Candle, that he<br />
ght have made his Esape; but which of the Two he designed, no Body<br />
40
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
could tell but himself: and if the Reader have a Curity to kn, he<br />
must blame Aurelian; wh thinking there could be no foul play offered to<br />
such a Villain, ran him idiately through the Heart, so that he drop'd<br />
do Dead at his Feet, without speaking a Word. He would have seen<br />
who the Perso was he had thus happiy delivered, but the Dead Body had<br />
fallen upon the Lanthorn, whic put out the Candle: However comng up<br />
toward hi, he ask'd h how he did, and bid him be of good Heart; he<br />
was answered with nothing but Prayers, Blessngs and Thanks, called a<br />
Thousand Deliverers, good Genius's and Guardian Angels. And th<br />
Rescued would certaiy have gone upo hi Knees to have worshipped<br />
him, had he not been bound Hand and Fot; whh Aurelian understanding,<br />
groped for the Knots, and either untied them or cut them asunder; but 'tis<br />
re probable the latter, because more expeditious<br />
They took littl hd what became of the Body whi they left behind<br />
them, and Aurelian was cnducted from out the Ruins by the Hand of him<br />
h had delivered. <strong>By</strong> a faint light issuing from the just risig Moon, h<br />
could discern that it was a Youth; but comg into a more frequented part<br />
of the Town, where several Lights were hung out, he was amaz'd at the<br />
extream Beauty which appeared in his Face, though a little pale and<br />
disordered with his late fright. Aurelian longed to hear the Story of so<br />
odd an adventure, and entreated hi Charge to tell it him by the way; but<br />
h desired him to forbear till they were com into som House or othr,<br />
where he might rest and recover his tired Spirits, for yet he was so faint he<br />
was unabl to look up. Aurelian thought these last words were delivered in<br />
a Voe, whose accent was not new to hi That thought made hi lk<br />
earnestly in the Youth's Face, which he now was sure he had sowhere<br />
sen before, and thereupon asked h if he had never been at Siena?<br />
That Questio made the young Gentleman look up, and sothing of a<br />
Joy appeared in his Countenance, whic yet h endeavoured to smthr;<br />
s prayig Aurelian to conduct h to his Lodging, h proed him that<br />
as soon as they suld com thither, h would acquaint hi with any thing<br />
h desired to know Aurelian would rather have gone any where else<br />
than to h ow Lodging; but beg so very late he was at a loss, and so<br />
forced to be contented.<br />
41
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
As soon as they were com ito his Chamber, and that Lights were<br />
brought them and the Servant disd, the paleness whic s visibly<br />
before had usurped the sweet Countenance of the afflted Youth vand,<br />
and gave place to a more lively Flood of Crimson, which with a modest<br />
heat glow'd freshly on his Cheeks Aurelian waited with a pleasing<br />
Admrati the divery proed h, when the Youth still struggling<br />
with his Resolution, with a timrous haste, pulled off a Peruke whic had<br />
concealed the most beautiful abundance of Hair that ever graced one<br />
Female Head; those dishevelled spreading tress, as at first they made a<br />
discovery of, so at last they served for a veil to the modest lovely blus<br />
f the fair <strong>Incognita</strong>; for she it was and non othr. But Oh! the<br />
xpresble, inconceivable joy and amazement of Aurelian! As son as<br />
he durst venture to think, he concluded it to be all Visio, and nver<br />
doubted s much of any thing in hi Life as of hi being then awake. But<br />
she taking hi by the Hand, and desiring hi to sit do by her, partly<br />
convinced him of the reality of her presence.<br />
'This is the secod ti, Don Hippolito, (said she to h) 'that I have<br />
been here th Night. What the occasion was of my seeking you out, and<br />
how by mracle you preserved m, would add to much to the surprize I<br />
perceive you to be already in should I tell you: Nor wi I make any<br />
further discovery, till I know what censure you pass upo the confidence<br />
wich I have put in you, and the strange Crcumstances in wich you find<br />
m at this time. I am sensible they are such, that I sall nt blame your<br />
severest Conjectures; but I hope to cnvince you, when you shall hear<br />
what I have to say in justification of my Vertue<br />
'Justification! (cry'd Aurelian) what Infidel dares doubt it! Then<br />
kneeling down, and takig her Hand, 'Ah Madam (says he) would Heaven<br />
uld no other ways look upon, than I behold your Perfectis--Wrong<br />
not your Creature wth a Thught, he can be guilty of that hrrid Impiety<br />
as once to doubt your Vertue--Heavens! (cry'd he, starting up) 'am I so<br />
really blessed to see you once again! May I trust my Sight?--Or do my<br />
fancy now ony more strongly wrk?--For still I did preserve your Image<br />
i my Heart, and you were ever present to my dearest Thoughts. -<br />
'Enough Hippolito, enough of Rapture (said she) you cannot much<br />
42
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
accuse me of Ingratitude; for you see I have not been unmindful of you;<br />
but moderate your Joy till I have tod you my Conditio, and if for my<br />
sake you are raised to th Delight, it is not of a long continuance.<br />
At that (as Aurelian tels the Story) a Sigh diffused a mournful<br />
sweetness through the Ar, and liquid grief fell gently from her Eyes,<br />
triumphant sadnss sat upo her Brow, and eve sorrow seem'd delighted<br />
with the Conquest he had made. See what a change Aurelian felt! His<br />
Heart bled Tears, and trembled in h Breast; Sighs struggling for a vent<br />
had choaked each others passage up: His Floods of Joys were all<br />
supprest; cod doubts and fears had chll'd 'em with a sudden Frot, and he<br />
was troubld to excess; yet knew not wy. Well, the Learned say it was<br />
Sympathy; and I am always of the Opinion with the Learned, if they speak<br />
first.<br />
After a World of Condoeance had pased between them, he prevaid<br />
wth her to tell him her Story. So having put all her Sighs into one great<br />
Sigh, she discharged her self of 'e all at once, and formed the Relatio<br />
you are just about to Read.<br />
'Having been i my Infancy Contracted to a Man I could nver endure,<br />
and no by my Parents being likely to be forced to Marry hi, is in short,<br />
the great occasion of my grif. I fansy'd (continued she) somthing so<br />
Generous i your Counteance, and unon in your Behaviour, while<br />
you were divertig your self, and rallying me with Express of<br />
Gallantry, at the Ball, as induced me to hold Conference with you. I now<br />
freely cofess to you, out of design, That if things should happen as I then<br />
feared, and as now they are come to pas, I might rely upon your<br />
assistance in a matter of Concern; and in which I would sooner chuse to<br />
depend upo a generous Stranger, than any Aquaitance I have. What<br />
Mirth and Freedom I then put on, were, I can asure you, far distant from<br />
y Heart; but I did vice to my self out of Complaisance to your<br />
Teper.--I knew you at the Tilting, and wished you mght co off as you<br />
did; thugh I do not doubt, but you would have had as good Success had it<br />
been opposite to my Inclinations.--Not to detain you by to tedius a<br />
Relatio, every day my Friends urged me to the Match they had agreed<br />
upon for me, before I was capable of Consenting; at last their<br />
43
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
importunti grew to that degree, that I found I must either consent, wh<br />
uld make m mserable, or be mserable by perpetualy enduring to be<br />
baited by my Father, Brothr and other Relations. I resolved yeterday,<br />
on a suddain to give firm Faith to the Opiion I had coceived of you; and<br />
accordingly cam in the Evening to request your astance, in delivering<br />
m from my Tormentors, by a safe and private cnveyance of me to a<br />
Monastery about four Leagues hence, where I have an Aunt who would<br />
receive m, and is the only Relation I have averse to the Match. I was<br />
surprized at the appearance of s Company I did not expect at your<br />
Lodgigs; wich made me in haste tear a Paper which I had written to you<br />
with Directions where to find me, and get speedily away in my Coach to<br />
an old Servant's House, wh I acquainted with my purpose: <strong>By</strong> my<br />
Order se provided m of this Habit which I n wear; I ventured to trust<br />
my self with her Brothr, and resolved to go under his Conduct to th<br />
Monastery; he proved to be a Villai, and Pretedig to take me a short<br />
and private way to the place where he was to take up a Hackney Coach<br />
(for that which I came in was broke so where or other with the haste it<br />
made to carry me from your Lodging) led me into an old ruined<br />
Monastery, where it pleased Heave, by what Adent I know not, to<br />
direct you. I need not tell you how you saved my Life and my Honour,<br />
by revenging me with the Death of my Perfidious Guide. This is the<br />
umm of my present Condition, bating the apprehensions I am i of beg<br />
taken by s of my Relations, and forced to a thing so quite cotrary to<br />
my Inclinations.<br />
urelian was confounded at the Relation se had made, and began to<br />
fear his own Estate to be more desperate than ever he had imagind. He<br />
ade her a very Passionate and Elquet Speech in behalf of helf<br />
(much better than I inted to insert here) and expressed a mighty concern<br />
that she should look upon his ardent Affectio to be only Rallery or<br />
Gallantry. He was very free of his Oaths to confirm the Truth of what he<br />
pretended, nor I believe did she doubt it, or at least was unwilling so to do:<br />
For I would Caution the Reader by the bye, not to believe every wrd<br />
wich she told him, nor that admirable sorrow which se counterfeited to<br />
be accurately true. It was indeed truth s cunningly intermigled with<br />
44
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Fiction, that it required no less Wit and Presece of Mind than se was<br />
endowed with so to acquit her slf on the suddain. She had entrusted her<br />
self indeed with a Fellow who proved a Viain, to coduct her to a<br />
Monastery; but one wh was i the To, and were she intended only<br />
to lie concealed for his sake; as the Reader shall understand ere long: For<br />
w have another Discovery to make to h, if he have nt found it out of<br />
himself already.<br />
After Aurelian had said what h was able upon the Subject i hand,<br />
wth a mournful tone and dejeted lk, he deanded his Doom. She<br />
asked h if he would endeavour to convey her to the Monastery she had<br />
told h of? 'Your commands, Madam, (replied he) 'are Sacred to m;<br />
and were they to lay down my Life I would obey them. With that he<br />
wuld have goe out of the Room, to have give order for his Hors to be<br />
got ready imdiately; but with a Countenance s full of sorrow as moved<br />
Compassion in the tender hearted <strong>Incognita</strong>. 'Stay a littl Don Hippolito<br />
(said she) I fear I shall nt be able to undergo the Fatigue of a Journey this<br />
Night.--Stay and give me your Advice h I sall coceal my self if I<br />
continue to morrow in th To Aurelian could have satisfied her s<br />
was not then in a place to avoid discovery: But he must also have told<br />
her th the reason of it, viz. w he was, and who were in quest of h,<br />
whi he did nt think convenint to declare till necessty shuld urge h;<br />
for he feared least her knowledge of those designs whic were in agitatio<br />
betwen him and Juliana, might deter her mre from giving her consent.<br />
At last h resoved to try hi utmt perswasion to gain her, and told her<br />
accordingly, he was afraid se would be disturbed there in the Morning,<br />
and he knew no other way (if she had nt as great an aversio for him as<br />
the Man whom she now endeavour'd to avoid) than by making hi happy<br />
to make her self secure. He demonstrated to her, -that the disblgati<br />
to her Parets would be greater by going to a Monastery, since it was only<br />
to avoid a chce wich they had made for her, and wich she could not<br />
have so just a pretence to do ti she had made one for her self.<br />
A World of other Arguments he used, whih se contradicted as long<br />
as she was able, or at least willing. At last she told him, she would<br />
consult her Pillow, and i the Mornng conclude what was fit to be done.<br />
45
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
He thought it convenent to leave her to her ret, and having lock'd her up<br />
i h Roo, went hielf to repos upon a Pallat by Signr Claudio.<br />
In the mean time, it may be convenient to enquire what became of<br />
Hippoto He had wandered much i pursuit of Aurelan, though<br />
Leonra equally took up his Thoughts; He was reflectig upon the<br />
ddness and extravagance of hi Circumtances, the Continuation of<br />
which had doubtless created in him a great uneasiness, when it was<br />
iterrupted with the noise of opening the Gates of the Convent of St.<br />
Lawrence, whither he was arrived soner than he thought for, being the<br />
place Aurelian had appointed by the Lacquey to meet hi in. He<br />
wondered to see the Gates opened at s unseasonable an hour, and went to<br />
enquire the reaso of it from them who were employ'd; but they proved to<br />
be Novices, and made him signs to go in, whre he might meet with s<br />
body allow'd to answer him. He found the Religius Men all up, and<br />
Tapers lighting every where: at last he foow'd a Friar who was goig<br />
into the Garden, and asking him the cause of these Preparations, he was<br />
answered, That they were entreated to pray for the Soul of a Cavalier, who<br />
was just departing or departed th Life, and wh upon farther talk with<br />
him, he found to be the same Lorenzo so often mntioned. Don Mario, it<br />
seems Uncle to Lorenzo and Father to Leonora, had a private Dor out of<br />
the Garden belonging to h House into that of the Convent, whic Dor<br />
th Father was now a going to open, that h and h Famiy might com<br />
and offer up their Oraisons for the Soul of their Kinsman Hippolito<br />
having informed hielf of as much as h could ask withut suspi,<br />
took hi lave of the Friar, not a little joyful at the Hope h had by such<br />
unexpected Means, of seeing his Beautiful Leonora: As soon as he was<br />
got at convenient Distance from the Friar, (wh 'tis like thought he had<br />
return'd into the Convent to hi Devotion) he turned back through a clos<br />
Walk whh led h with a little Copass, to the same private Door,<br />
were just before he had lft the Friar, who now he saw was go, and th<br />
Door open.<br />
He wnt into Don Mario's Garde, and walk'd round with much<br />
Caution and Circumpection; for the Moon was then about to rise, and had<br />
already diffused a glimmring Light, suffiient to ditinguih a Man from<br />
46
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
a Tree. <strong>By</strong> Computation now (which is a very remarkable Crcumstance)<br />
Hippolito entred this Garden near upon the same Instant, when Aurelian<br />
wandred into the Old Monastery and found hi Ingnita in Ditress. He<br />
as pretty well acquainted with the Platform, and Sight of the Garde; for<br />
he had formerly surveyed the Outside, and knew what part to make to if he<br />
should be surpriz'd and driven to a precipitate Escape. He tok his Stand<br />
behind a well grown Bus of Myrtle, which, should the Moon shin<br />
brighter than was required, had the Advantage to be shaded by the<br />
Indulgent Boughs of an ancient Bay-Tree. He was delighted with the<br />
oice he had made, for he found a Ho in the Myrtle, as if purposely<br />
contriv'd for the Reception of one Person, who might undiscovered<br />
perceive all about him. He looked upon it as a good Omen, that the Tre<br />
Consecrated to Venus was so propitious to him i his Amorous Distress<br />
The Consideration of that, togethr with the Obligation he lay under to the<br />
Muses, for shtering hi also with so large a Crown of Bays, had lke to<br />
have set hi a Rhyming.<br />
He was, to te the Truth, naturally addicted to Madrigal, and we<br />
should undoubtedly have had a small dert of Numbers to have pick'd<br />
and Critiiz'd upon, had he nt been interrupted just upon his Delivery;<br />
nay, after the Preliminary Sigh had made Way for his Utterance. But s<br />
was his Fortune, Don Mario was comg towards the Door at that very<br />
nick of Ti, were he mt with a Priest just out of Breath, who told hi<br />
that Lorenzo was just breathng hi last, and desired to know if he wuld<br />
com and take his final Leave before they were to administer the Extream<br />
Unction. Don Mario, who had been at some Difference with his Nephew,<br />
now thught it his Duty to be reconciled to hi; so callng to Leonora,<br />
who was cog after h, he bid her go to her Devotions in the Chappel,<br />
and told her where h was going.<br />
He went on with the Priest, while Hippolito saw Leonra com<br />
forward, only accompanied by her Woan. She was in an undress, and<br />
by reason of a Melancholy visible in her Face, mre Careless than usual in<br />
her Attire, wich he thought added as much as was possible to th<br />
abundance of her Charms He had nt much Ti to Contemplate th<br />
Beauteus Viion, for she soon passed into the Garden of the Convent,<br />
47
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
leavig h Confounded wth Love, Admration, Joy, Hope, Fear, and all<br />
the Train of Passions, whic seze upon Men in his Condition, all at oce.<br />
He was so teazed with this Variety of Torment, that he never missed the<br />
Two Hours that had slipped away during his Automachy and Intestin<br />
Conflit. Leonora's Return settled hi Spirits, at least united them, and h<br />
ad now no other Thought but how he should present hielf before hr.<br />
When she callg her Woan, bid her bolt the Garden Door on the Inside,<br />
that she might not be Surpriz'd by her Father, if he returnd through th<br />
Convent, wich done, she ordered her to bring down her Lute, and leave<br />
her to her slf in the Garden<br />
this Hippolito saw and heard to h inexpressible Content, yet had<br />
he much to do to smother his Joy, and hinder it from taking a Vent, wh<br />
uld have ruid the ony Opportunity of his Life. Leonora wthdrew<br />
into an Arbour s near him, that he could distinctly hear her if she Played<br />
or Sung: Having tuned her Lute, with a Voce soft as the Breath of<br />
Angels, she flung to it this foowing Ar:<br />
I.<br />
A! Whither, whther sall I fly, A poor unhappy Maid; To hopeless<br />
Love and Misery <strong>By</strong> my own Heart betray'd? Not by Aexi Eyes undoe,<br />
Nor by his Carmig Faithss Tongue, Or any Practis'd Art; Such real Ills<br />
may hope a Cure, But the sad Pain which I endure Proceed from fansied<br />
Smart.<br />
II.<br />
'Twas Fancy gave Alexis Charms, Ere I beld his Face: Kind Fancy<br />
(then) could fold our Arms, And form a soft Embrace. But since I've seen<br />
the real Swain, Ad try'd to fancy him again, I'm by my Fancy taught,<br />
Though 'tis a Blis no Tongue can te, To have Aexis, yet 'tis Hell To<br />
have hi but in Thought.<br />
The Song ended grived Hippolito that it was s soon ended; and in<br />
the Ecstacy he was then rapt, I believe he would have been satisfied to<br />
have expired with it. He could not hp Flattering helf, (though at the<br />
same Ti he checked his own Vanity) that he was the Person meant in<br />
the Song. Wh he was indulging whic thought, to his happy<br />
Atont, he heard it enuraged by these Words:<br />
48
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
'Unhappy Leonora (said she) ho is thy poor unary Heart msled?<br />
Whither am I co? The false deluding Lights of an imaginary Flame,<br />
have led me, a poor benighted Vitim, to a real Fire. I burn and am<br />
consumed with hopeless Love; those Beams in whose soft temperate<br />
warmth I wanto'd heretofore, no flash destruction to my Soul, my<br />
Treacherous greedy Eyes have suck'd the glaring Light, they have united<br />
all its Rays, and, like a burning-Glass, convey'd the pointed Meteor to my<br />
Heart--Ah! Aurelian, ho quickly hast thou Conquer'd, and h quickly<br />
must thou Forsake. Oh Happy (to me unfortunately Happy) Juliana! I<br />
am to be the subject of thy Triumph--To thee Aurelian cos laden with<br />
the Tribute of my Heart and Glories in the Oblation of his broke Vo--<br />
What then, is Aurelian False! False! alass, I know not what I say; How<br />
can he be Fale, or True, or any Thng to me? What Promises did he ere<br />
make or I receive? Sure I dream, or I am mad, and fansie it to be Love;<br />
Foolish Girl, recal thy bansh'd Reason.--Ah! would it were no mre,<br />
wuld I culd rave, sure that would give me Ease, and rob m of the Sens<br />
of Pain; at least, among my wandring Thughts, I should at sotim light<br />
upon Aurelian, and fansie h to be mi; kind Madness would flatter my<br />
poor feeble Wishes, and sometimes tell me Aurelian is not lot--not<br />
irrecoverably--not for ever lost.<br />
Hippolito could hear no more, he had not Room for half his Transport.<br />
When Leonora perceived a Man comig toard her, she fell a trembling,<br />
and could not speak. Hippoto approached with Reverece, as to a<br />
Sacred Shrine; when cng near eough to see her Cnsternation, he fell<br />
upon his Knees.<br />
'Behold, O Adored Lera (said he) 'your ravihed Aurelian, behold<br />
at your Feet the Happit of Men, be not diturb'd at my Appearance, but<br />
think that Heaven coducted me to hear my Bliss pronund by that dear<br />
Mouth aloe, whose breath could fi me with new Life<br />
Here he would have come nearer, but Leonora (scarce co to her self)<br />
was getting up in haste to have gone away: he catch'd her Hand, and<br />
wth all the Endearments of Love and Transport pressed her stay; she was<br />
a long ti in great Confusion, at last, with many Blushes, she entreated<br />
h to let her go where she mght hde hr Guilty Head, and not expose<br />
49
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
her shame before his Eyes, since his Ears had been suffiient Witnesses of<br />
hr Crime. He begg'd pardon for his Treachery in over-hearing, and<br />
confessed it to be a Crime he had now repeated. With a Thousand<br />
Submissions, Entreaties, Prayers, Prais, Blessings, and passionate<br />
Expressios he wrought upon her to stay and hear him. Here Hippolito<br />
ade use of his Rhetorick, and it proved prevaig: 'Twre tedious to<br />
te the many ingenious Arguments he used, with all her Nice Distinctions<br />
and Objections. In short, h convinced hr of his Passion, represented to<br />
her the necesty they wre under, of being speedy in their Resve:<br />
That h Father (for still h was Aurelian) would undoubtedly find him in<br />
the Morning, and then it would be too late to Repet. She on the other<br />
Hand, knew it was i vai to deny a Passion, wich he had heard hr s<br />
frankly on; (and n doubt was very glad it was past and done;) beside<br />
apprehending the danger of delay, and having so little Jealousie and<br />
Fears of what Effect mght be produced between the Coands of hi<br />
Father and the Beauties of Juliana; after some decent Denials, she<br />
consented to be Conducted by hi through the Garden into the Convent,<br />
where se would prevail with her Confessor to Marry them. He was a<br />
scrupulus Old Father w they had to deal withal, iuch that ere<br />
they had persaded him, Don Mario was returnd by the Way of his own<br />
House, where mssing his Daughter, and her Woan not beng able to give<br />
any farther Account of her, than that she left her in the Garden; he<br />
concluded se was gone again to her Devotios, and indeed he found her<br />
i the Chappe upon her Knees with Hippolito in her hand, receiving th<br />
Father's Benediction upon Conlusion of the Ceremoy.<br />
It would have asked a very skilful Hand, to have depicted to the Life<br />
the Faces of those Three Persons, at Don Mario's Appearance. He that<br />
has seen so admrable Piece of Transmutation by a Gorgon's Head, may<br />
form to himself the most probable Idea of the Prototype. The Old<br />
Gentlan was hielf i a srt of a Wood, to find his Daughter with a<br />
Young Fellow and a Priest, but as yet he did not kn the Worst, ti<br />
Hippolito and Leonora came, and kneeling at his Feet, begg'd hi<br />
Forgivess and Blesng as his Son and Daughter. Don Mario, itead<br />
of that, fell into a mot violnt Passion, and would undoubtedly have<br />
50
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
comitted so extravagant Atio, had he not been restraid, more by<br />
the Sanctity of the Place, than the Perswasions of all the Religious, who<br />
wre now co about hi Leonora stirr'd not off her Knees all ths time,<br />
but ctiued begging of him that he wuld hear her.<br />
'Ah! Ungrateful and Undutiful Wretch (cry'd he) 'how hast thou<br />
requited all my Care and Tederness of thee? No w I mght have<br />
expected some return of Comfort, to throw thy self away upon an<br />
unknown Pers, and, for ought I kn, a Villai; to me I'm sure he is a<br />
Villain, who has robb'd me of my Treasure, my Darling Joy, and all th<br />
future Happiss of my Life prevented. Go--go, thou no-to- beforgotten<br />
Leonora, go and enjoy thy unprosperous Choice; you wh<br />
wanted not a Father's Counsel, cannot need, or else will slight h<br />
Blessing.<br />
These last Words were spoke with so much Passion and feelig<br />
Concern, that Leonora, moved with Excess of Grief, fainted at his Feet,<br />
just as she had caught hold to Embrace his Knees. The Old Man would<br />
have shk hr off, but Copassi and Fathrly Affectio came upon<br />
him in the midst of his Resolve, and mlted him into Tears, he Embraced<br />
h Daughter in his Arms, and wept over her, while they endeavoured to<br />
restore her Se<br />
Hippolito was in such Concern he could not speak, but was busily<br />
employed in rubbig and cafing her Teples; wh se openg her Eyes<br />
laid hod of his Arm, and cry'd out--Oh my Aurelian--how unhappy have<br />
you made m! With that she had again like to have faited away, but he<br />
took her in hs Arm, and begg'd Don Mario to have some pity on his<br />
Daughter, since by his Severity she was reduced to that Condition. Th<br />
Old Man hearing his Daughter nam Aurelian, was a littl revived, and<br />
began to hope Things were i a pretty good Condition; he was perswaded<br />
to cofort her, and having brought her wholly to her slf, was contet to<br />
ear hr Excuse, and in a littl tim was s far wrought upon as to beg<br />
Hippolito's Pardon for the Ill Opin h had conceived of hi, and not<br />
long after gave his Cont.<br />
The Night was spent in this Conflct, and it was now clear Day, when<br />
Don Mario Conductig his new Son and Daughter through the Garden,<br />
51
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
was met by some Servants of the Marquess of Viterbo, who had been<br />
enquiring for Doa Leonora, to know if Julana had lately been with her;<br />
for that she was mssing from her Father's House, and n conjecture<br />
uld be made of wat might becom of her. Don Mario and Lera<br />
wre surprized at the Ne, for he knew well enough of the Match that<br />
was deign'd for Julana; and having enquired where the Marque was, it<br />
was told him, That he was go with Don Fabio and Fabritio toward<br />
Aurelian's Lodgings Don Mario having assured the Servants that Juliana<br />
had not been there, dismissed them, and advid with his Son and<br />
Daughter ho they should undeceive the Marques and Don Fabio in thr<br />
Expectations of Aurelian. Hippolito could oftentim scarce forbear<br />
smiling at the old Man's Ctrivances who was mst deceived helf; h<br />
at length advid them to go all down together to his Lodging, where he<br />
would present helf before his Father, and ingeuously confes to him<br />
the truth, and h did not question his approving of hi Choice.<br />
This was agreed to, and the Coach made ready. While they were<br />
upo their way, Hippolto pray'd heartily that his Friend Aurelian might be<br />
at the Lodging, to satisfie Don Mario and Lenora of his Circumstances<br />
and Quality, when he should be obliged to discover hielf. His<br />
Petitions were granted; for Don Fabi had beset the House long before hi<br />
Son was up or <strong>Incognita</strong> awake.<br />
Upo the arrival of Don Mario and Hippolito, they heard a great No<br />
and Hubbub above Stairs, whh Don Mario concluded was occasiod by<br />
their not finding Aurelian, who h thought h could give the best<br />
account of: So that it was not i Hippolito's power to dissade him from<br />
going up before to prepare his Father to receive and forgive him. While<br />
Hippolito and Leonora were left in the Coach at the Dor, he made<br />
elf known to hr, and begg'd hr pardon a thousand tim for<br />
continuing the deceit. She was under so concern at first to find sh<br />
was still mtaken; but hi Behaviour, and the Reasons he gave, soon<br />
reconcd h to her; his Person was altogether as agreeable, his Estate<br />
and Quality not at all inferiour to Aurelian's; in the mean time, the true<br />
Aurelian wo had seen hs Father, begg'd leave of him to withdraw for a<br />
mnt; in which ti he wnt into the Camber where his Ingnta was<br />
52
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
dresg her self, by his degn, in Woan's Apparel, wile he was<br />
nsulting with her how they should break the matter to his Father; it<br />
happened that Don Mario cam up Stairs were the Marques and Do<br />
Fabio were; they undoubtedly conluded him Mad, to hear him making<br />
Apogies and Excuses for Aurelian, wh he told them if they would<br />
promise to forgive he would present before them imdiately. Th<br />
Marquess asked hi if his Daughter had lain with Leonora that Night; he<br />
ansered h with another question in bealf of Aurelian. In short, they<br />
could not understand one anothr, but each thought 'tother beside hielf.<br />
Don Mario was so cocern'd that they would nt belive hi, that he ran<br />
down Stairs and came to the Door out of Breath, desirig Hippolito that he<br />
would com into the House quickly, for that h could not perswade his<br />
Father but that he had already seen and spoke to hi Hippolito by that<br />
understood that Aurelian was in the House; so taking Lenora by the Hand,<br />
he foowed Don Mario, who led hi up into the Ding-Room, were<br />
they found Aurelian upon hi Knees, begging his Father to forgive hi,<br />
that he could not agree to the Choice he had made for hi, sice he had<br />
already disposed of himself, and that before he understood the designs he<br />
had for him, which was the reas that he had hitherto concealed hielf.<br />
Don Fabio knew not h to answer him, but look'd upo the Marquess,<br />
and the Marquess upon hi, as if the Cemet had been cool'd wh was<br />
to have unted thr Families.<br />
All was silent, and Don Mario for hi part took it to be all Conjurati;<br />
he was cong forward to preset Hippoito to them, when Aurelian<br />
spying his Friend, started from his Knees and ran to embrace him--My<br />
dear Hippoto (said he) what happy chance has brought you hither, just at<br />
my Necessity? Hippolito pointed to Don Mario and Leonora, and told<br />
him upon what terms he came. Don Mario was ready to run mad,<br />
hearing him called Hippoto, and wnt again to examine his Daughter.<br />
While she was informing hi of the truth, the Marques's Servants<br />
returned with the meanholy News that h Daughter was n where to be<br />
found. Wh the Marque and Don Fabritio were wondering at, and<br />
lamting the Misfortune of her loss, Hippolito came towards Don Fabi<br />
and itercded for his Son, snce the Lady perhaps had withdrawn her self<br />
53
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
out of an Aversion to th Match. Don Fabio, thugh very much incens'd,<br />
yet forgot not the Respect due to Hippolito's Quality; and by hi<br />
perswasion spoke to Aurelian, though with a stern Look and angry Voce,<br />
and asked hi where he had diposed the cause of hi Dibedience, if he<br />
wre worthy to see her or no; Aurelian made answer, That he desired n<br />
re than for hi to see her; and he did not doubt a Coquence of h<br />
Approbation and Forgiveness--Well (said Don Fabio) you are very<br />
conceited of your own Discretion, let us see this Rarety. While Aurelian<br />
was gone in for Incognta, the Marquess of Viterbo and Do Fabritio were<br />
taking their leaves in great disorder for their loss and disappointmt; but<br />
Don Fabio entreated their stay a mnt longer till the return of his Son.<br />
Aurelian led Ingnta into the Room veil'd, wo seeing some Company<br />
there which he had not told her of, would have go back again. But<br />
Don Fabio came bluntly forwards, and ere she was aware, lifted up her<br />
Veil and beheld the Fair Ingnita, differing nothng from Juliana, but in<br />
her Nam This discovery was so extreamy surprizing and wlcome,<br />
that either Joy or Amazement had tied up the Tongues of the whole<br />
Company. Aurelian here was most at a loss, for he knew not of his<br />
Happi; and that whh all along prevented Juliana's confessing her self<br />
to him, was her knowig Hippoto (for whom she took him) to be<br />
Aurelian's Friend, and she feared if he had known her, that he would never<br />
have conted to have deprived him of her. Julana was the first that<br />
spoke, falling upon hr Knees to hr Father, who was not enough himelf<br />
to take her up. Don Fabio ran to her, and awakend the Marquess, w<br />
then embraced her, but culd not yet speak. Fabritio and Leonora strove<br />
who should first take her in their Arms; for Aurelian h was out of his wts<br />
for Joy, and Julana was not much behid him, to see ho happiy their<br />
Loves and Duties were reconciled. Don Fabio embraced his Son and<br />
forgave hi The Marquess and Fabritio gave Juliana into his hands, h<br />
received the Blng upon his Knees; all were over-joy'd, and Don Mari<br />
not a lttle proud at the discovery of his Son-in-Law, whom Aurelian did<br />
not fail to set forth with all the ardent Zeal and Elquece of Friendsp.<br />
Julana and Leonora had pleasant Discourse about their unknown and<br />
mstaken Rivalshp, and it was the Subject of a great deal of Mirth to hear<br />
54
<strong>Incognita</strong><br />
Julana relate the sveral Contrivan whic she had to avoid Aurelian for<br />
the sake of Hippolito.<br />
Having diverted themslves with many Remarks upon the pleasing<br />
surprize, they all thught it proper to atted upon the Great Duke that<br />
Morning at the Palace, and to acquaint him with the Novelty of what had<br />
pass'd; wile, by the way, the tw Young Couple entertained the Company<br />
wth the Relation of several Particulars of ther Three Days Adventures.<br />
55