Being come to the House, they carried him to his Bed, and having sent
for Surgeons Aurelian rewarded and dismissed the Guard. He stay’d the
dressing of Claudio’s Wounds, which were many, though they hop’d none
Mortal: and leaving him to his Rest, went to give Hippolito an Account
of what had happened, whom he found with a Table before him, leaning
upon both his Elbows, his Face covered with his Hands, and so
motionless, that Aurelian concluded he was asleep; seeing several
Papers lie before him, half written and blotted out again, he thought
to steal softly to the Table, and discover what he had been employed
about. Just as he reach’d forth his Hand to take up one of the Papers,
Hippolito started up so on the suddain, as surpriz’d Aurelian and made
him leap back; Hippolito, on the other hand, not supposing that any
Body had been near him, was so disordered with the Appearance of a Man
at his Elbow, (whom his Amazement did not permit him to distinguish)
that he leap’d hastily to his Sword, and in turning him about,
overthrew the Stand and Candles. Here were they both left in the Dark,
Hippolito groping about with his Sword, and thrusting at every Chair
that he felt oppose him. Aurelian was scarce come to himself, when
thinking to step back toward the Door that he might inform his Friend
of his Mistake, without exposing himself to his blind Fury; Hippolito
heard him stir, and made a full thrust with such Violence, that the
Hilt of the Sword meeting with Aurelian’s Breast beat him down, and
Hippolito a top of him, as a Servant alarm’d with the noise, came into
the Chamber with a Light. The Fellow trembled, and thought they were
both Dead, till Hippolito raising himself, to see whom he had got under
him, swoon’d away upon the discovery of his Friend. But such was the
extraordinary Care of Providence in directing the Sword, that it only
past under his Arm, giving no Wound to Aurelian, but a little Bruise
between his Shoulder and Breast with the Hilt. He got up, scarce
recovered of his Fright, and by the help of the Servant; laid Hippolito
upon the Bed; who when he was come to himself could hardly be
perswaded, that his Friend was before him and alive, till he shew’d him
his Breast, where was nothing of a Wound. Hippolito begg’d his Pardon a
Thousand Times, and curs’d himself as often, who was so near to
committing the most Execrable Act of Amicide.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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