A _Woman_ that would needs _Die_ for her _Husband_.
A Poor Woman was put out of her Wits in a manner for fear of losing her
_Husband_. The Good Man was Sick and Given Over, and Nothing would serve
the Turn, but Death must needs take Her instead of Him. She Call’d and
Pray’d, and Pray’d and Call’d, till at last, Death Presented himself in
a Horrible Shape at her Elbow. She very Civilly dropt him a Cursie; And
_Pray Sir_, says she, _Do not Mistake your self; for the Person you come
for lies in the Bed there_.
The MORAL.
_’Tis a Common Thing to Talk of Dying for a Friend; but when it comes to
the Push once, ’tis no more then Talk at last._