it is sure of one which is feelingly sorry for his misery: and the joyful spends not his joy, either alone, or there where it may be envied: but may freely send it to such a well-grounded object, from whence hee shall bee sure to receive a sweet reflection of the same joy, and, as in a cleere mirrour of sincere good will, see a lively picture of his own gladnesse."-p. 347.

Dorus informs his friend, that the Princess Pamela has, at length, consented to reward the fidelity of her lover, to fly with him to Thessaly, of which he was the prince, and there become his bride; when it is agreed, Zelmane or Pyrocles shall follow as soon as he prevails upon Philoclea, who had now become acquainted with his real character, to accompany him. To facilitate their flight, Dametas and his family are despatched on fools' errands out of the way; and taking advantage of their absence, Dorus escapes with Pamela, and, at length, reaches a forest, where Pamela, fatigued with her journey, composes herself to rest. Here we must leave them for a while, little expecting the calamities which are ready to befall them.

In the mean time, Pyrocles, who, under the character of Zelmane, is hard bested between the doting love of Basilius, and the raging jealousy of Gynecia, in order to appease the latter, who threatens, if slighted, to betray his disguise, finds it necessary to pretend compliance with her wishes; and, accordingly, appoints to meet her at midnight in a cave in the forest. In the same place, he makes an assignation, also, with Basilius, and he, as well as Gynecia, are caught in the snare, and meet each other at the place of appointment, without discovering, till morning, the fraud that had been practised upon them. Gynecia, on her discovery of it, resolves to make the best use of her situation, and charges Basilius with his infidelity, which, she tells him, has thus obliged her to follow him to his haunts, and disappoint his purpose. In the midst of her reproaches, Basilius happens to meet with a cup brought by Gynecia, in which was contained a potion, which she had designed to administer to Zelmane; and, being thirsty, quaffs it off, which he has no sooner done than he falls down, to all appearance deprived of life.

Pyrocles, having thus eluded his tormentors, now bends his footsteps towards the apartment of the Princess Philoclea, whom he finds uttering complaints against the air of coldness and desertion, which he had been obliged to put on to deceive the jealousy of Gynecia. Of his fidelity, he soon re-assures Philoclea, but has the mortification to find her, from the anguish she had sustained, utterly incapable of taking advantage of the opportunity of escape which presented itself. At this crisis, Dametas returns from the quest about which Dorus had sent him, and finds the Princess Pamela escaped. Half mad with

surprise and fear, Dametas flies to the apartment of Philoclea to satisfy himself whether she has not, also, departed with her sister. Here he finds Zelmane, whom his dress discovers to be a man, reposing by the sleeping Philoclea, whom sorrow had composed to a transitory slumber. Aware of the importance of this discovery, and hoping, by making it known, to save himself from the punishment due to his neglect in suffering Pamela to escape, Dametas locks the door, and thus deprives Pyrocles of all means of egress from the chamber of the princess. Upon awaking, Pyrocles finds himself a prisoner; and, listening from the window, hears Dametas detailing to the crowd below his strange discovery. By the Arcadian laws, all violations of chastity were punished with death; and the mind of Pyrocles is penetrated with anguish at the danger in which he had involved the innocent Philoclea, to convict whom, his being found in her chamber and the evidence of Dametas would be grounds sufficient. To exculpate her and vindicate her reputation, his love prompts him to offer violence to himself, that thus his death might be supposed to have been occasioned by her resolute resistance in the defence of her chastity, and her character and person eventually be saved from disgrace. But from this her tears and entreaties dissuade him, and he desists from his attempt, yet not until he has wounded himself severely. It would not, perhaps, be easy, in the whole range of tragedy, to show any thing superior to the loftiness and magnanimity of the reasonings he adopts to induce her to allow him to be a sacrifice

for her.

In the mean time, Gynecia, who, upon seeing the king fall down, to all appearance, dead, had become the prey of anguish and remorse for her intended crime of infidelity, resolves, as some expiation of it, to accuse herself, though innocent, before the people as the murderer of the king; and abandons herself to lamentations. In this state, she is met by some shepherds, to whom she charges herself with the murder, and from them Philanax, the faithful servant of the king, becomes acquainted with the news. Impatient to punish the commission of so execrable a crime, he comes, with a guard, to take charge of her, and commit her to confinement till the hour of her trial should arrive. Being, also, informed, by Dametas, of his discovery, Philanax proceeds to the apartment of Philoclea, and finding Pyrocles still there, delivers him to a guard as companion in guilt with Gynecia; and as, besides his supposed seduction of Philoclea, an accomplice in the murder of Basilius. In vain, the gentle-minded Philoclea endeavours to vindicate her lover and herself to the hard-hearted Philanax, who, sternly and rigidly severe, forgets, in his desire to revenge his dead master, the duty and respect due to his living representatives. Another

prisoner is destined to be added to these; and he is, Musidorus, whom we left with Pamela, on his journey to the nearest seaport, designing to embark with her from thence to Thessaly. While they are on their way, they are met by "a rascal companie," a part of those rebels who came, in tumultuous array, to offer violence to Basilius, but were prevented and dispersed by the two princes. Having no hope of pardon, they had wandered for a long time in the woods, and, at length, by an unfortunate chance, lighted on Musidorus and Pamela, who were immediately recognized by the rabble, and suspected to be fugitives. Partly instigated by the desire of revenging themselves on Musidorus, and partly instigated by the hope of procuring pardon for their late offence, they resolve to capture the lovers, and carry them back to the king. By the stratagem of one of the gang, Musidorus is taken prisoner, and unwillingly obliged to retrace his footsteps to the royal habitation. Here he is delivered into the hands of Philanax, who, overjoyed to gain a fresh prey, whom he considers as not less deserving of punishment than Pyrocles and Gynecia, for attempting to carry away the heiress of the throne, commits Musidorus to the same confinement as his friend had before been consigned to, and already dooms them, in imagination, to tortures and to death. Philanax, though loyal and faithful to his dead master, is cruel and ambitious: perceiving that the two princes would be obstacles in his road to greatness, he determines to remove them out of his way, and breathes against them nothing but inextinguishable hate. His appears to be a character compounded of mixed and opposite qualities; yet, unfortunately for the prisoners, both the good and evil principles of his mind equally serve to spur him on to their destruction. In vain, the Princess Pamela vindicates her right of choice, and threatens him with her future vengeance, when possessed of the throne of Arcadia; he determines to prosecute the severity of his vengeance, and rather, if compelled, to put them to death privately and without trial, than suffer them to escape. All of the Arcadian noblemen are, however, not so relentless as Philanax: Kalander, the old host of Musidorus, uses all his endeavours to procure their liberation, and, winning over several others to his side, causes a diversion in favour of the prisoners, till, at last, both sides are almost prepared to second their opinions with force.

While this tumult is continuing, intelligence is brought of the arrival of Euarchus, King of Macedon, who had come for the purpose of visiting his old friend Basilius; and, on learning his unhappy fate, had sent to the Arcadian council, requesting them to allow him to remain and be present at the funeral of his friend. The reputation of Euarchus for wisdom and justice is so universally established, that he appears to Philanax to be the

person sent by the deities to preside as the judge of the criminals, and punish the murder of his friend. The partizans of the prisoners are not less desirous of having the Macedonian king as their judge, and it is determined, that Philanax shall use his entreaties with Euarchus to induce him to accept of that office. Euarchus, though unwillingly, as if he felt a sort of presentiment in his mind how painful a duty he was about to undertake, to satisfy their importunity, consents; and thus, by one of the dark and unsearchable workings of fate, he is destined to act as the judge and sentencer of his nephew and son. The length of time which had elapsed since he had parted with them, had rendered their persons unknown to him; and the names of Palladius and Diaphantus, which they agreed to assume at their trial, farther promoted the concealment: while they, ignorant of the name and not less of the person of their judge, were equally prevented from a recognition.

The trial now commences-Gynecia is first examined, and it appearing from her own confession, that she was the murderer of the king, she is sentenced to be conveyed to prison till the day of her husband's burial, and then to be buried alive in the same tomb with him. The turn of Pyrocles and Musidorus next comes on, and their appearance is thus described:

"Musidorus was in stature so much higher than Pyrocles, as commonly is gotten by one yeere's growth. His face, now beginning to have some tokens of a beard, was composed to a kinde of a manlike beauty. His colour was of a well-pleasing brownenesse, and the features of it such, as they carried both delight and majesty; his countenance severe, and promising a minde much given to thinking. Pyrocles of a pure complexion, and of such a chearefull favour, as might seeme either a woman's face in a boy, or an excellent boye's face in a woman. His look gentle and bashfull, which bred the more admiration, having shewed such notable proofes of courage. Lastly, though both had both, if there were any oddes, Musidorus was the more goodly, and Pyrocles the more lovely."-p. 459.

Their accuser is Philanax, who charges the former with aiding the murder of the king, and dishonouring the Lady Philoclea; and the latter with attempting to steal away her sister Pamela from her father and country, and rails against both in all the bitter terms of revengeful obduracy. They answer, by declaring the motives which led them to the king's retreat; and, recounting modestly their many benefits to him and his daughters, show how unlikely it was that they should be accessaries in his murder, or enemies to his person. During these pleadings and accusations, two letters from the princesses are brought to Philanax, written to the general assembly of the Arcadians, but which Philanax, whom nothing can satisfy but the death of the

princes, determines to suppress: that of Philoclea, embued with all the gentle humbleness of her nature; and that of Pamela, breathing forth all the high and noble spirit of her mind. After hearing, with much consideration, the accuser and the accused, and weighing all the evidence brought before him in the equal and unbiassed balance of reason, Euarchus pronounces the fate of the princes, and sentences Pyrocles to be put to death by being thrown out of a high tower, and Musidorus to be beheaded; which sentence he orders to be executed before sunset. According to his orders, Philanax is proceeding to execute the sentence, when, as the princes are leading forth to their fate, Kalodulus, the faithful servant of Musidorus, to whom the tidings of his master's trial had come, arrests them in their progress, and makes known to Euarchus his relationship to the prisoners he had condemned. On hearing this intelligence, all the spectators are excited to compassion, and even the hard heart of Philanax is mollified. The speech which Euarchus then makes is conceived with wonderful energy: never, perhaps, was there so sublime an exhibition of equity battling with affection, of the father struggling with the judge.

"But Euarchus staid a good while upon himselfe, like a valiant man that should receive a notable encounter, being vehemently stricken with the fatherly love of so excellent children, and studying, with his best reason, what his office required: at length, with such a kind of gravity as was neare to sorrow, he thus uttered his mind: I take witnesse of the immortall gods (said hee) O, Arcadians, that what this day I have said, hath beene out of my assured perswasion, what justice it selfe and your just lawes require. Though strangers then to me, I had no desire to hurt them; but leaving aside all considerations of the persons, I weighed the matter which you committed into my hands, with my most impartiall and farthest reach of reason. And thereout have condemned them to lose their lives, contaminated with so many foule breaches of hospitality, civility, and vertue. Now, contrary to all expectations, I find them to be my onely sonne and nephewe, such upon whom you see what gifts nature hath bestowed: such who have so to the wonder of the world heretofore behaved themselves, as might give just cause to the greatest hopes, that in an excellent youth may be conceived. Lastly, in few words, such in whom I placed all

let

my mortall joyes, and thought my selfe, now neare my grave, to recover a new life. But, alas, shall justice halt? Or shall shee winke in one's cause, which had lynce's eyes in another's? Or, rather, shall all private respects give place to that holy name? Be it so, be it so, my gray haires be layd in the dust with sorrow, let the small remnant of my life be to mee an inward and outward desolation, and to the world a gazing stocke of wretched misery; but never, never let sacred rightfulnesse fall: it is immortall, and immortally ought to bee preserved. If rightly I have judged, then rightly I have judged mine owne children; unless the name of a child should have force to