CHAPTER IX.

Of Ser Pantaleone reading a Letter that was not intended for him to see.

M

ADAMA," he began, "I have been thus long without writing to your Excellency, more from Want of Subject than of Inclination," (a false Excuse, always, fince when we incline to talk to our Friends we can always find Plenty to say to them; but this was written in great Bitterness, as well as all that followed.) "I fend your Excellency a Sonnet, as I think I recollect having promised to fend you all my new Compofitions. It has little Refemblance, indeed, to those beautiful ones which I believe you are daily in the Habit of receiving," (he means from Guarini, of whom he is desperately

jealous,)" and, indeed, it is as poor in Wit and Art, as I myself am in good Fortune. In my present State of Mind, it is impoffible for me to do better, and I fend it, as, whether good or bad, it will effect what I defire. Do not think, however, that I have at Prefent fuch a Dearth of Thoughts as to have any Room in my Heart for Love," (of Course not!) "it expreffes not my own Feelings, or it might not have been fo bad, but was compofed at the Request of a poor Lover,” (poor Taffo! one of your fhallow Feints!) "who, having for fome Time past quarrelled with his Mistress, can hold out no longer, but is forced to capitulate and fue for Mercy."

And then a Sonnet, the very Soul of paffionate Entreaty and Self-upbraiding, far too real in its Grief to have been written for another Man.

Of Course I was not going to be base enough to injure my Friend, or to withhold his Letter from the Party for whom it was defigned. No, no! his Secret was as fafe with me as in his own Bosom; and, though she had perhaps

L

got his Letter for me instead of her own, that should not interfere with my immediately putting her in Poffeffion of what she was likely enough to prize but too dearly, even at fome Risk to myself.

The Matter required delicate handling; I had broken the Seal quite innocently, had perufed the Contents not fo innocently, but ftill fhe would never know whether I had read them or not, fince, even if I had not done fo, fhe might not have believed me. I refealed the Letter with a Head of Virgil, a Keepfake of my Father's that I had never had Occafion to ufe before-it was not, therefore, known for mine, and might well, from its Subject, pafs for a Seal of Taffo's, or for one that he had borrowed at Cafteldurante.

I placed the Letter, privately, where I knew Madama Leonora would fee it, close befide a Pofy of Lilies of the Valley which her Page had laid beside her Gloves, and left Things to take their Chance,

In Spite of my Difaffection for petty Intrigues, I was beginning to find that they who

live in Courts can fcarce keep clear of them. Hardly had I left the Madama's Chamber, when Angelo met me, with Anxiety on his Countenance, and told me the Duke required me immediately. My Heart palpitated like that of a Culprit, just because I was Consciencestricken; and on entering the Duke's Closet, my Alarm was not allayed by feeing him standing with his drawn Sword in his Hand, in a threatening and terrific Pofture, while Maddalo, trembling like a Leaf, was kneeling at his Feet.

This Maddalo was as thoroughly bad a Boy as I ever knew about Court, where at the best the Training is not very improving. He was about fixteen, but looked two or three Years younger, being dwarfish in Stature, slim and fupple as an Eel, of olivander Complexion, narrow Brows, black, impenetrable Eyes, and thin Lips; and whereas he might lay fome Claim to i Penfieri ftretti, he could make none whatever to il Volto fciolto, having an Expreffion as fly, fubtle, and malign as his Character. This Lad, not worth his Macca

roni, was the Peft of the Palace, always for Malice even if he got Nothing by it, and it was regretted by all but those who made him. a ferviceable Tool that the Duke and Madama Lucrezia had always been partial to him, whether aware of his Baseness or not I cannot aver. This I may fay, that I always confidered he had had Something to do with the Removal of our firft Duchefs, because I found that Impreffion to exift when I firft was of the Household, though that was after her . . . . Demise.

The Duke, in a low, quiet Tone, which he always used when dangerous, faid,

"Come, Ser Pantaleone, here is News. We have found the Spy in the Closet."

"Indeed?" cried I, my Heart leaping to my Lips.

"I found him there myself, Sir; and how often he has been there already, what he heard while there, and how he discovered the Spring, he is about to relate to us immediately."

"Or his Life is not worth an Anchovy," faid I, involuntarily uttering what I believed