CHAP. I. Wherein is discoursed the new and pleasant Adventure that hapned to the Curate and the Barber, in Sierra Morena. M OST happy and fortunate were those times wherein the thrice audacious and bold Knight, Don-Quixote of the Mancha, was bestowed on the World; by whose most Honourable resolution to ruine and renew in it the already worne out, and well-nigh diseased Exercise of Armes wee joy in this our so niggard and scant an age of all Pastimes, not only the sweetnesse of his true Historie, but also of the other Tales and digressions contained therein, which are in some respects lesse pleasing, artificiall and true then the very History it self: The which prosecuting the carded, spun, and self-twined thread of the relation sayes, that as the Curate began to bethink himself upon some answer that might both comfort and animate Cardenio, hee was hindred by a voyce which came to his hearing, said very dolefully the words ensuing. O God! is it possible that I have yet found out the place which may serve for a hidden Sup • lchre • to the load of this loathsome bodie that I unwillingly bear so long? Yes it may bee, if the solitarinesse of these Rocks doe not illude me an • unfortunate that I am. How much more gratefull companions will these Craggs and Thickets prove to my designes, by affording me leisure to communicate my mis-haps to Heaven with Plaints, then that if any mortall man living, since there is none upon earth from whom may be expected counsell in doubts, ease in complaints, or in harmes remedie? The Curate and his companions heard and understood all the words cleerly: and for as much as they conjectured (as indeed it was) that those Plaints were delivered very neer unto them, they did all arise to search out the Plaintiff; and having gone some twenty steps thence, they beheld a young Youth behinde a Rock, sitting under an Ash-Tree, and attyred like a Country Swain, whom by reason his face was inclined, as hee sate washing of his feet in the clear stream that glided that way, they could not perfectly dis cern; and therefore approached towards him with so great silence, as they were not dis cryed by him, who only attended to the washing of his feet, which were to white, as they properly resembled two pieces of cleer Crystall, that grew among the other stones of the stream: The whitenesse and beauty of the feet amazed them, being not made as they well conjectured, to tread clodds, or measure the steps of lazie Oxen, and holding the Plough, as the youths apparell would perswade them; and therefore the Curate, who went before the rest, seeing they were not yet espyed, made signes to the other two that they should divert a little out of the way, or hide themselves behinde some broken cliffts that were neer the place, which they did all of them, nothing what the Youth did with very great attention. Hee wore a little brown Capouch, gyrt very neer to his body with a white Towell, also a pair of Breeches and Gamashoes of the same coloured cloth, and on his head a clay-coloured Cap: his Gamashoes were lifted up half the legg, which verily seemed to bee white Alablaster. Finally having washed his feet, taking out a linnen Kerchif from under his Cap, hee dryed them therewithall, and at the taking out of the Kerchif hee held up his face, and then those which stood gazing on him had leizure to discern an unmatchable beauty, so surpassing great, as Cardenio rounding the Curate in the eare, said, This bodie, since it is not Luscinda, can bee no humane creature, but a divine. The Youth took off his Cap at last, and shaking his head to the one and other part, did dis • evell and discover such beautifull hairs, as those of Phoebus might justly emulate them; and thereby they knew the supposed Swain to bee a delicate woman, yea, and the fairest that ever the first two had seen in their lives, or Cardenio himself, the lovely Luscinda excepted; for, as hee after affirmed, no feature save Luscinda's could contend with hers. The long and golden hairs did not only cover her shoulders, but did also hide her round about in such sort, as (her feet exceped) no other part of her body appeared, they were so neer and long. At this time her hands served her for a Combe, which as her feet seemed pieces of Crystall in the water, so did they appear among her hair • like pieces of driven Snow. All which circumstances did possesse the three which stood gazing at her with great admiration and desire to know what shee was; and therefore resolved to shew themselves; and with the noyse which they made when they arose the beautifull Mayden held up her head, and remove ing her hair • from before her eyes with both hands, she espyed those that had made it, and presently arising full of fear and trouble, shee laid hand on a p • cket that 〈◊〉 by her, which seemed to bee of apparell, and thought to 〈◊〉 away without ••• ying to pul • on her shooes, or to gather up her hair: But scarce had shee gone • span delicate and tender feet, unable to abide the rough incounter of the stones made her to fall to the earth; which the three perceiving, they came out to her, and the curate ar riving first of all, said to her, Ladie, whatsoever you be stay and fear nothing; for we which you behold here come only with intention to doe you service, and therefore you need not pretend so impertinent a flight, which neither your feet can indure, nor would wee permit. The poor Gyrl remained so amazed and confounded, as shee answered not a word: wherefore the Curate and the rest drawing neerer, they took her by the hand, and then hee prosecuted his Speech saying, What your habit concealed from us, Ladie, your hairs have bewrayed, being manifest arguments that the causes were of no small moment which have thus bemasked your singular beauty, under so unworthy array, and condu cted you to this all-abandoned Desart, wherein it was a wonderfull chance to have m •• , you, if not to remedie your harmes, yet at least to give you some comfort, seeing no evill can afflict and ve • e one so much, and plunge him in so deep extream • (whilest it deprives not the life) that will wholly abhor from listening to the advice that is offered with a good and sincere intention; so that fair Lady, or Lord, or what else you shall please to bee tea • med, shake off your affrightment, and rehearse unto us your good or ill fortune; for you shall finde in us joyntly, or in every one part, companions to help you to deplore your disasters. Whilest the Curate made this Speech, the disguised woman stood as one half asleep, now beholding the one, now the other, without once moving her lip or saying a word; just like a rusticall Clown, when rare and unseen things to him before, are unexpectedly presented to his view. But the Curate insisting and using other perswasive reasons, addrest to that effect, won her at last to make a breach on her tedions silence, and with a profound sigh blow open her corral gates, saying somwhat to this effect: Since the solitarinesse of these Rocks hath not beene potent to conceale mee, nor the disheveling of my disordered haires, licensed my tongue to belie my sexe, it were in vaine for mee to feigne that a new, which if you beleeved it, would bee more for courtesies sake then any other respect. Which presupposed, I say good Sirs, that I doe gratifie you highly, for the liberall of fers you have made me, which are such as have bound me to satisfie your demand as neer as I may; although I feare the relation which I must make to you of my mishaps, will breed sorrow, at once, with compassion in you, by reason you shall not bee able to finde any salve that may cure, comfort or begui • e them: yet notwithstanding, to the end my reputation may not hover longer suspended in your opinions, seeing you know mee to bee a woman, and view mee young, alone, and thus attyred, being things all of them able, eyther joyned or parted, to overthrow the best credit; I must bee enfor ced to unfold what I could otherwise most willingly conceale. All this, shee that ap peared so comely, spoke without stop or staggering, with so ready delivery, and so sweete a voice, as her discretion admired them no lesse then her beauty. And renewing againe their complements and intreaties to her, to accomplish speedily her promise, she setting all coynesse apart, drawing on her shoes very modestly, and winding up her hayre, late her downe on a stone, and the other three about her, where shee used no little violence to smother certaine rebellious teares that strove to breake forth without her permission, and then with a reposed and cleare voice she began the History of her life in this manner. In this Province of Audaluzia there is a certaine towne from whence a Duke derives his denomination, which makes him one of those in Spayne are called Grandees: Hee hath two sonnes, the elder is Heire of his States, and likewise, as may bee presumed, of his virtues, the younger is Heire I know not of what, if hee bee not of V • llido [one that murdered Sancho King of Castil • , as hee was easing himselfe as the siege of Cam • ra.] his treacheries of 〈◊〉 frauds. My parents are this noblemans vassals, of humble and low calling, but so rich, as if the goods of nature had equalled those of their fortunes: then should they have had nothing else to desire, nor I feared to see my selfe in the mis fortunes wherein I now am plunged. For perhaps my mis-haps proceede from that of theirs, in not being nobly discended. True it is, that they are not so base, as they should therefore shame their calling, nor so high as may check my conceit, which per swades mee that my disasters preceede from their lownesse. In conclusion, They are but Farmers and plaine People but without any touch or spot of bad blood, and as wee usually say, Olde rustie Christians, yet so rustie and ancient, as yet their riches and ma gnificent port, gained them, by little and little, the title of Gentilltie; yea and of worship also; although the Treasure and Nobility, whereof they made most price and account, was to have had mee for their daughter; and therefore, as well by reason that they had none other He •• then my selfe, as also because as affectionate Parents, they held mee most deere; I was one of the most made of and cherished daughters that ever father brought 〈◊〉 I was the mirrour wherein they beheld themselves, the staffe of their old age, and the subject to which they addrest all their desires. From which because they were most virtuous, mine did not stray an inch, and even in the same man ner that I was Ladie of their mindes, so was I also of their goods. By mee were Ser vants admitted or dismissed; the notice and account of what was sowed or reaped, past thorow my hands, of the Oyle-mills, the Wine-presses, the number of great and little Cattell, the Bee-hives: In fine, of all that which so rich a Farmer as my father was, had 〈◊〉 could have, I kept the account, and was the Steward thereof and Mistrisse, with such care of my side, and pleasure of theirs, as I cannot possibly indeere it enough. The times of leisure that I had in the day, after I had given what was necessary to the head Ser vants, and other labourers, I did entertaine in those exercises which were both commen dable and requisite for Maydens, to wit, in Sowing, making of Bone lace, and many times handling the Distasse: and if sometimes I left those exercises to recreate my mind a little, I would then take some godly booke in hand, or play on the Harpe; for expe rience had taught mee that Musick ordereth disordered mindes, and doth lighten the passions that afflict the Spirit. This was the life which I led in my fathers house, the recounting whereof so particu larly, hath not beene done for ostentation, nor to give you to understand that I am rich, but to the end you may note how much, without mine owne fault, have I fall'n from that happy state I have said, unto the unhappy plight into which I am now redu ced. The Historie therefore is this, that passing my life in so many occupations, and that with such recollection as might bee compared to a religious life, unseen as I thought by any other person then those of our house; for when I went to Masse, it was common ly so early, and so accompanied by my Mother and other Mayd-servants, and I my selfe so cover'd and watchfull, as mine eyes did scarce see the earth whereon I trod: and yet notwithstanding those of love, or as I may better terme them, of idlenesse, to which Lynxes eyes may not bee compared, did represent mee to Don Ferdinandoes affection and care, for this is the name of the Dukes younger sonne, of whom I spake before. Scarce had shee named Don Ferdinando, when Cardenio changed colour, and began to sweate, with such alteration of Bodie and Countenance, as the Curate and Barber which beheld it, feared that the accident of frenzie did assault him, which was wont (as they had heard) to possesse him at times. But Cardenio did nothing else then sweat, and stood still beholding now and then the country gyrle, imagining straight what she was, who without taking notice of his alteration, followed on her discourse in this manner: And scarce had • hee seene mee, when (as hee himselfe after confest) hee abode greatly surprized by my love, as his actions did after give evident demonst • ation. But to conclude, soone the relation of those misfortunes which have no conclusion, I will over-slip in silence the diligences and practices of Don Ferdinando, used to de clare unto me his affection: he suborned all the folk of the house. He bestowed gifts and favours on my parents: every day was a holy-day, and a day of sports in the streets where I dwelled; At night no man could sleep for Musick; The Letters were innumerable that came to my hands, without knowing who brought them, farsed too full of amorous conceits and offers, and containing more promises and protestations then characters: All which not only could not molifie my minde, but rather hardened it as much if hee were my mortall enemie, and therefore did construe all the indeavours hee used to gain my good will to bee practised to a contrary end; which I did not as accounting Don Fernando ungentle, or that I estemed him too importan •• ; for I took a kinde of delight to see my self so highly esteemed and beloved so Noble a Gentleman; nor was I any thing offended to see his papers written in my praise; for, if I bee not deceived in this poynt, be women ever so foul, wee love to hear men call us beautifull. But mine honesty was that which opposed it self unto all these things, and the continuall admonishions of my Parents, which had by this plainly perceived Don Fernando's pretence, as one that cared not all the World should know • t: They would often say unto me, that they had deposited their honours and reputation in my virtue alone and discretion, and bade me consider the inequality that was between Don Fernando and me, and that I might collect by it how his thoug •• (did he ever so much affirm the contrary) were more addrest to compasse his pleasure • the • my profit: And that if I feared any inconveniencie might befall, to the end they might crosse it, and cause him to abandon his so unjust a pursuit, they would match me where I most liked either to the best of that Town or any other Town adjoyning, saying, they might easily compasse it, both by reason of their great wealth and my good report. I fortified my resolution and integrity with these certain promises and the known truth which they told me; and therefore would never answer to Don Fernando any word that might ever so farr off argue the least hope of condiscending to his desires: All which ca • tion • of mine which I think he deemed to be disdains, did inflame more his lascivious appetite (for this is the name wherewithall I intitle his affection towards me) which had it been such as it ought, you had not known it now, for then the cause of revealing it had not befaln me. Finally, Don Fernando understanding how my parents meant to marrie me, to the end they might make void his hope of ever possessing me: or at least set more guards to preserve mine honour, and this news or surmize was an occasion that he did what you shall presently hear. For one night as I sate in my Chamber, only attended by a young Mayden that served me, I having shut the doors very safe, for fear left through any negligence my honesty might incur any danger, without knowing or imagining how it might happen • notwithstanding all my dilligences used and preventions, and amid'st the solitude of this silence and recollection he stood before me in my Chamber: At his presence I was so troubled, as I lost both sight and speech; and by reason thereof could not crie, nor I think he would not, though I had attempted it, permit me: For he presently ranne over to me, and taking me between his armes (for, as I have said, I was so amazed, as I had no power to defend my self) he spake such things to me, as I know not how it is possible that so many lies should have ability to fain things resembling in shew so much the truth; and the Traytor caused tears, to give credit to his words; and sighs, to give countenance to his intention. I, poor soul, being alone amid'st my friends and weakly practised in such affairs, began, I know not how, to account his leasings for verities, but not in such sort as his tears or sighs might any wise move me to any compassion that were not commenda ble. And so the first trouble and amazement of minde being past, I began again to re cover my defective Spirits, and then said to him with more courage then I thought I should have had; if, as I am my Lord, between your armes, I were between the paws of a fierce Lyon, and that I were made certain of my Libertie, on condition to doe or say any thing prejudiciall to mine honour, it would prove as impossible for me to ac cept it, as for that which once hath been to leave off his essence and being: Wherefore even as you have in-gyrt my middle with your armes, so likewise have I tyed fast my minde with virtuous and forcible desires that are wholy different from yours, as you shall perceive, if seeking to force me, you presume to passe further with your inordinate designe: I am your Vassall, but not your Slave; nor hath the nobility of your blood power, nor ought it to harden, to dishonour, stain, or hold in little account the humi litie of mine; and I doe esteem my self, though a Countrey-Wench and Farmers Daughter, as much as you can your self, though a Noble-man and a Lord; With me your violence shall not prevail, your riches gain any grace, your words have power to deceive, or your fighs and tears bee able to move; yet if I shall finde any of these pro perties mentioned in him whom my Parent shall please to be •• ow on me for my Spouse, I will presently subject my will to his, nor shall it ever varie from his minde a jot; So that if I might remain with honour, although I rested void of delights, yet would I willingly bestow on you that which you presently labour so much to obtain; all which I doe say, to divert your straying thought from ever thinking that any one may obtain of me ought, who is not my lawfull Spouse. If the let only consists therein, most beau tifull Dorotea (for so I am called) answered the disloyall Lord; behold, I give thee here my hand to bee thine alone; and let the Heavens, from which nothing is con cealed, and this Image of our Lady, which thou hast here present, be witnesses of this truth. When Cardenio heard her say that she was called Dorotea hee fell again into his for mer suspicion, and in the end confirmed his first opinion to be true; but would not interrupt her speech, being desirous to know the successe, which hee knew wholly al most before, and therefore said only, Lady, is it possible that you are named Dorotea? I have heard report of another of that name, which perhaps hath runne the like course of your misfortunes; but I request you to continue your Relation, for a time may come wherein I may recount unto you things of the same kinde, which will breede no small admiration. Dorotea noted Cardenioes words, and his uncouth and disastrous at tyre, and then intreated him very instantly, if hee knew any thing of her affaires, hee would acquaint her therewithall, For if fortune had left her any good, it was only the courage which shee had to beare patiently any disaster that might befall her, being cer taine in her opinion, that no new one could arive, which might increase a whit those she had already. Ladie, I would not let slip the occasion (quoth Cardenio) to tell you what I thinke, if that which I imagine were true: and yet there is no commoditie l • ft to doe it, nor can it availe you much to know it: Let it bee what it list, said Dorotea, but that which after befell of my relation was this: That Don Fernando tooke an Image that was in my Chamber for witnesse of our Contract, and added withall most forcible words and unusuall oathes, promising unto mee to become my husband: Although I warned him before hee had ended his speech, to see well • what hee did, and to weigh the wrath of his father, when hee should see him married to one so base, and his Vassall, and that therefore hee should take heede that my beauty (such as it was) should not blinde him, seeing hee should not finde therein a sufficient excuse for his errour, and that if hee meant to doe mee any good, I conjured him by the love that hee bore unto mee, to li cense my fortunes to roule in their owne spheere, according as my qualitie reached: For such unequall matches doe never please long, nor persevere with that delight where withall they begun. All the reasons here rehearsed I said unto him, and many more which now are falne out of minde, but yet proved of no efficacy to weane him from his obstinate purpose; even like unto one that goeth to buy, with intention never to pay for what hee takes, and therefore never considers the price, worth, or defect of the stuffe hee takes co cre dit. I at this season made a briefe discourse, and said thus to my selfe, I may doe this, for I am not the first which by Matrimony hath ascended from a low degree to a high e state: not shall Don Fernando bee the first whom beautie or blind affection (for that is the most certaine) hath induced to make choice of a Consort equall to his Greatness. Then since herein I create no new world, nor custome, what error can bee committed by embracing the honour wherewithall fortune crownes mee: Although it so befell, that his affection to mee endured no longer then till he accomplisht his will: for be fore God, I certes shall still remaine his wife. And if I should disdainfully give him the repulse, I see him now in such termes, as perhaps forgetting the dutie of a Nobleman, hee may use violence, and then shall I remaine for ever dishonoured, and also without excuse of the imputations of the ignorant, which knew not how much without any fault I have faln into this inevitable danger. For, what reasons may bee sufficiently for cible to perswade my father and other, that this Nobleman did enter into my Chamber without my consent? All these demands and Answeres did I in an instant revolve in mine imagination, and found my selfe chiefly forced (how I cannot tell) to assent to his Petition, by the witnesses hee invoked, the teares hee shed, and finally by his sweete disposition and comely feature, which accompanied with so many arguments of unfai ned affection, were able to conquer and enthrall any other heart, though it were as free and wary as mine own. Then called I for my waiting-maid, that shee might on earth accompany the coelestiall witnesses. And then Don Fernando turned again to reiterate and confirme his oathes, and added to his former, other new Saints as witnesses, and wished a thousand succeeding male dictions to light on him, if hee did not accomplish his promise to mee. His eyes againe waxed moist, his sighes increased, and himselfe inwreathed mee more streightly between his armes, from which hee had never once loosed mee: and with this, and my May dens departure, I left to bee a Mayden, and hee began to bee a Traytor and a disloyall man. The day that succeeded to the night of my mishaps came not (I think) so soon as Don Fernando desired it; for after a man hath satisfied that which the appetite covets, the greatest delight it can take after, is to apart it selfe from the place where the desire was accomplished. I say this because Don Fernando did hasten his departure from mee, by my maids industrie, who was the very same that had brought him into my Chamber, hee was got in the street before dawning. And at his departure from mee hee said (al though) not with so great shew of affection and vehemency as hee had used at his com ing) that I might bee secure of his faith, and that his oathes were firme and most true; and for a more confirmation of his word, hee tooke a rich Ring off his finger and put it on mine. In fine hee departed, and I remayned behinde, I cannot well say whether joy full or sad; but this much I know, that I rested confused and pensive, and almost be side my self for the late mischance; yet either I had not the heart, or else I forgot to chide my Maid for her treacherie committed by shutting up Don Fernando in my Cham ber; for as yet I could not determine, whether that which had befaln me, was a good or an evill. I said to Don Fernando at his departure, that he might see me other nights when hee pleased, by the same means he had come that night, seeing I was his own, and would rest so, untill it pleased him to let the world know that I was his wife. But hee never returned again, but the next night following could I see him after, for the space of a moneth either in the street or Church, so as I did but spend time in vain to expect him; although I understood that he was still in Town and rode every other day a hunting, an Exercise to which he was much addicted. Those dayes were, I know, unfortunate and accursed to me, and those hours sor rowfull; for in them I began to doubt, nay rather wholly to discredit Don Fernando's faith; and my maid did then hear loudly the checks I gave unto her for her presumption, ever untill then dissembled: And I was moreover constrained to watch and keep guard on my tears and countenance, lest I should give occasion to my Parents to demand of me the cause of my discontents, and thereby ingage me to use ambages or untruths to cover them. But all this ended in an instant, one moment ariving whereon all these respects stumbled, all honourable discourses ended, patience was lost, and my most hidden secrets issued in publique; which was when there was spread a certain rumour throughout the Town within a few dayes after, that Don Fernando had married in a Cit ty neer adjoyning a Damzell of surpassing beauty, and of very Noble birth, although not so rich as could deserve, by her preferment or dowrie, so worthie a husband: it was also said that shee was named Luscinda, with many other things that hapned at their Spousals worthy of admiration. Cardenio hearing Luscinda named did nothing else but lift up his shoulders, bite his lip, bend his brows, and after a little while shed from his eyes two floods of tears. But yet for all that Dorotea did not interrupt the file of her History, saying, This dolefull news came to my hearing, and my heart, instead of freezing thereat, was so inflamed with choler and rage, as I had well-nigh run out to the streets, and with out-cries published the Deceit and Treason that was done to me; but my furie was presently asswaged by the resolution which I made to doe what I put in execution the very same night, and then I put on this habit which you see, being given unto me by one of those that among us Country-folk are called Swains, who was my fathers servant; to whom I disclosed all my misfortunes, and requested him to accom panie me to the Citie where I understood my enemie sojourned, He, after he had re prehended my boldnesse, perceiving me to have an inflexible resolution, made offer to attend on me, as he said, unto the end of the world: And presently after I trussed up in a pillow-bear a womans attire, some Money and Jewels, to prevent necessities that might befall; and in the silence of night, without acquainting my treacherous maid with my purpose, I issued out of my house, accompanied by my servant and many imagi nations: and in that manner set on towards the Citie, and though I went on foot, was yet born away flying by my desires, to come, if not time enough to hinder that which was past, yet at least to demand of Don Fernando that he would tell me with what con science or soul he had done it. I arrived where I wished within two dayes and a half; and at the entry of the City I demanded where Luscinda her father dwelled? and he of whom I first demanded the question answered me more then I desired to hear; hee shewed me the house, and recounted to me all that befell at the daughters marriage, being a thing so publique and known in the City, as men made meetings of purpose to discourse thereof. Hee said to me, that the very night wherein Don Fernando was espoused to Luscinda, after she had given her consent to be his wife, she was instantly assailed by a terrible accident that struck her into a Trance; and her Spouse approaching to unclapse her bosome that shee might take the aire, found a paper folded in it, written with Luscinda's own hand, wherein she said and declared, that shee could not be Don Fernando's wife, be cause she was already Cardenio's, who was, as the man told me, a very principall Gentle man man of the same Citie; and that if shee had given her consent to Don Fernando, it was only done, because shee would not disobey her Parents; in conclusion hee told mee, that the paper made also mention, how shee had a resolution to kill her selfe presently after the marriage, and did also lay downe therein the motives shee had to doe it; all which, as they say, was confirmed by a Ponyard that was found hidden about her, in her apparell. Which Don Fernando perceiving, presuming that Luscinda did flout him, and hold him in little account, hee set upon her ere shee was come to her selfe, and attemp ted to kill her with the very same Ponyard; and had done it, if her father and other friends which were present, had not opposed themselves and hindred his determination. Moreover, they reported that presently after Don Fernando absented himselfe from the Citie, and that Luscinda turned not out of her agonie untill the next day, and then re counted to her parents how shee was verily Spouse to that Cardenio of whom wee spake even now. I learned besides, that Cardenio, as it is rumor'd, was present at the mar riage, and that as soone as hee saw her married, being a thing hee would never have cre dited, departed out of the Citty in a desperate moode, but first left behinde him a letter, wherein hee shewed at large the wrong Luscinda had done to him, and that hee himself meant to goe to some place where people should never after hear of him. All this was notorious, and publiquely bruited thorowout the Citty, and every one spoke thereof, but most of all having very soone after understood that Luscinda was mis sing from her Parents house and the Citie, for shee could not bee found in neyther of both, for which her parents were almost beside themselves, not knowing what meanes to use to finde her. These news reduced my hopes againe to their ranks, and I esteemed it better to finde Don Fernando unmarried then married, persuming that yet the gates of my remedy were not wholly shut, I giving my selfe to understand that heaven had peradventure set that impediment on the second marriage, to make him understand what hee ought to the first; and to remember how hee was a Christian, and that hee was more oblieged to his Soule then to humane respects. I revolved all these things in my minde, and comfort lesse did yet comfort my selfe, by fayning large, yet languishing, hopes, to sustain that life which I now doe so much abhor. And whilest I stayed thus in the Citie, ignorant what I might doe, seeing I found not Don Fernando, I heard a Cryer goe about pub liquely, promising great rewards to any one that could finde mee out, giving signes of the very age and apparell I wore: And I likewise heard it was bruited abroad, that the Youth which came with mee, had caried mee away from my fathers house. A thing that touched my soule very neerely, to view my credit so greatly wrak't, seeing that it was not sufficient to have lost it by my coming away, without the addition of him with whom I departed, being a subject so base and unworthy of my loftier thoughts. Ha ving heard this crie, I departed out of the Citie with my servant; who even then began to give tokens that he faultred in the fidelity hee had promised to me; and both of us together entred the very same night into the most hidden parts of this Mountain, fearing lest we might be found. But as it is commonly said, That one evill calls on another, and that the end of one disaster is the beginning of a greater, so proved it with me; for my good servant, untill then faithfull and trustie, rather incited by his own Villainy then my Beauty, thought to have taken the benefit of the oportunity which these inhabi table places offered, and sollicited me of Love, with little shame and lesse fear of God, or respect of my self: And now seeing that I answered his impudencies with severe and reprehensive words, leaving the intreaties aside wherewithall he thought first to have compast his will, he began to use his force: But just Heaven, which seldome or never neglects the just mans assistance, did so favour my proceedings, as with my weak forces and very little labour I threw him down a •• eep Rock, and there I left him, I know not whether alive or dead: And presently I entred in among these Mountains, with more swiftnesse then my fear and wearinesse required, having therein no other project or designe then to hide my self in them, and 〈◊〉 my father and others, which by his intreaty and means sought for me every where. Some moneths are past since my first comming here, where I found a Heard-man, who carried me to a Village seated in the midest of these Rocks, wherein hee dwelled, and entertained me, whom I have served as a Sheepheard ever since, procuring as much as lay in me, to abide stil in the field, to cover these hairs which have now so unexpectedly betraid me: Yet all my care and industry aviled not, seeing my Master came at last to the notice that I was no man, but a woman, which was an occasion that the like evill thought sprung in him, as before in my servant: And as fortune gives not alwais re medie for the difficulties which occur, I found neither Rock nor downfall to cool and cure my Masters infirmitie, as I had done for my man; and therefore I accounted it a lesse inconvenience to depart thence, and hide my self again among these Desarts, then to adventure the tryall of my strength or reason with him: Therefore, as I say, I turned to imbosk my self, and search out some place, where, without any encumbrance, I might intreat Heaven with my sighs and tears, to have compassion on my mis-hap, and lend me industry and favour, either to issue fortunately out of it, or else to die amid'st these solitudes, not leaving any memory of a wretch, who hath ministred matter, although not through her own default, that men may speak and murmur of her, both in her own and in other Countries.