well worthy, both for their rarity and comedy, to be related entirely by themselves in a novel. _Octavio_ saw every day with abundance of pleasure the little revenges of love, on those women’s hearts who had made before little conquests over him, and strove by all the gay presents he made a young _Fillmond_ (for so they called _Sylvia_,) to make him appear unresistible to the ladies; and while _Sylvia_ gave them new wounds, _Octavio_ failed not to receive them too among the crowd, till at last he became a confirmed slave, to the lovely unknown; and that which was yet more strange, she captivated the men no less than the women, who often gave her _serenades_ under her window, with songs fitted to the courtship of a boy, all which added to their diversion: but fortune had smiled long enough, and now grew weary of obliging, she was resolved to undeceive both sexes, and let them see the errors of their love; for _Sylvia_ fell into a fever so violent, that _Philander_ no longer hoped for her recovery, insomuch that she was obliged to own her sex, and take women servants out of decency. This made the first discovery of who and what they were, and for which every body languished under a secret grief. But _Octavio_, who now was not only confirmed she was a woman, but that she was neither wife to _Philander_, nor could in almost all possibility ever be so; that she was his mistress, gave him hope that she might one day as well be conquered by him; and he found her youth, her beauty, and her quality, merited all his pains of lavish courtship. And now there remains no more than the fear of her dying to oblige him immediately to a discovery of his passion, too violent now by his new hope to be longer concealed, but decency forbids he should now pursue the dear design; he waited and made vows for her recovery; visited her, and found _Philander_ the most deplorable object that despair and love could render him, who lay eternally weeping on her bed, and no counsel or persuasion could remove him thence; but if by chance they made him sensible it was for her repose, he would depart to ease his mind by new torments, he would rave and tear his delicate hair, sigh and weep upon _Octavio_’. bosom, and a thousand times begin to unfold the story, already known to the generous rival; despair, and hopes of pity from him, made him utter all: and one day, when by the advice of the physician he was forced to quit the chamber to give her rest, he carried _Octavio_ to his own, and told him from the beginning, all the story of his love with the charming _Sylvia_, and with it all the story of his fate: _Octavio_ sighing (though glad of the opportunity) told him his affairs were already but too well known, and that he feared his safety from that discovery, since the States had obliged themselves to harbour no declared enemy to the _French_ King. At this news our young unfortunate shewed a resentment that was so moving,