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Updated: June 14, 2025
Never since Julia did possess my heart; what news, my dearest Messenger of Love? what may I hope? Enter Julia. Jul. All that the kindest Mistress can bestow, If Carlos loves, and still will keep his Vows. Car. Julia, my Life, my Soul, what happy Stars Conspir'd to give me this dear lucky minute? Jul.
Annibal Bentivolii, grand Father of this Annibal who now lives, that was Prince in Bolonia, being slaine by the Canneschi that conspir'd against him, none of his race being left, but this John, who was then in swadling clouts; presently the people rose upon this murder, and slew all the Canneschi which proceeded from the popular affection, which the family of the Bentivolii held then in Bolonia: which was so great, that being there remain'd not any, now Anniball was dead, that was able to manage the State; and having notice that in Florence there was one borne of the Bentivolii, who till then was taken for a Smiths sonne: the citizens of Bolonia went to Florence for him, and gave the government of their City to him, which was rul'd by him, untill John was of fit yeares to governe.
Eumolpus reply'd, that could not be effected, for not only the difficulty of guiding so great a ship to a port, but a suspicion he wou'd necessarily have, that his friend cou'd not be so suddenly very ill, conspir'd against it: Then next perhaps, Lycas wou'd have a curiosity to visit his sick passenger: "Can you propose to escape by a means that will discover ye to him ye'd avoid?
Not a star appear'd to direct us in our way, nor would the dead of the night give us hopes of meeting a stranger that could; with these, the wine we had drank, and our ignorance of the place, even in the day time, conspir'd to mis-direct us.
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