Note to p. 27: _vide_ _The Younger Brother_, I, ii (Vol. IV), Motteux'
Song: 'Thence to the Rose where he takes his three Flasks,' and the note
on that passage.
_Younger Brother_ text:
Then jogs to the _Play-house_, and chats with the Masks,
And thence to the _Rose_, where he takes his three Flasks.
_Younger Brother_ note:
_the Rose._ This celebrated house stood in Russell Street, Covent
Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable references
to it. The greater portion of the 'Rose' was demolished in 1776,
when a new front was being built to the theatre.
Note to p. 34: For this old bridal custom see _ante_, Vol. III (p. 223),
_The Lucky Chance_, II, ii: 'we'll toss the Stocking'; and the note on
that passage.
_Lucky Chance_ text:
Come, Gentlemen, one Bottle, and then--we'll toss the Stocking.
_Lucky Chance_ note:
_we'll toss the Stocking_. This merry old matrimonial custom in use
at the bedding of the happy pair is often alluded to. cf. Pepys,
8 February, 1663: 'Another story was how Lady Castlemaine, a few days
since, had Mrs. Stewart to an entertainment, and at night begun a
frolique that they two must be married; and married they were, with
ring and all other ceremonies of church service, and ribbands, and a
sack posset in bed and flinging the stocking; but in the close it is
said my Lady Castlemaine, who was the bridegroom, rose, and the King
come and take her place.'
* * * * *
* * * *
THE _UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY_: A True History.
I cannot omit giving the World an account, of the uncommon Villany of a
Gentleman of a good Family in _England_ practis'd upon his Sister, which
was attested to me by one who liv'd in the Family, and from whom I had
the whole Truth of the Story. I shall conceal the unhappy Gentleman's
own, under the borrow'd Names of Sir _William Wilding_, who succeeded
his Father Sir _Edward_, in an Estate of near 4000_l._ a Year,
inheriting all that belong'd to him, except his Virtues. 'Tis true, he
was oblig'd to pay his only Sister a Portion of 6000_l._ which he might
very easily have done out of his Patrimony in a little Time, the Estate
being not in the least incumbred. But the Death of his good Father gave
a loose to the Extravagancy of his Inclinations, which till then was
hardly observable. The first Discovery he made of his Humour, was in the
extraordinary rich Equipage he prepar'd for his Journey to _London_,
which was much greater than his fair and plentiful Fortune cou'd
maintain, nor were his Expences any way inferior to the Figure he made
here in Town; insomuch, that in less than a Twelve-Month, he was forc'd
to return to his Seat in the Country, to Mortgage a part of his Estate
of a Thousand Pounds a Year, to satisfy the Debts he had already
contracted in his profuse Treats, Gaming and Women, which in a few Weeks
he effected, to the great Affliction of his Sister _Philadelphia_, a
young Lady of excellent Beauty, Education, and Virtue; who, fore-seeing
the utter Ruin of the Estate, if not timely prevented, daily begg'd of
him, with Prayers and Tears, that might have mov'd a _Scythian_ or wild
_Arab_, or indeed any thing but him, to pay her her Portion. To which,
however, he seemingly consented, and promis'd to take her to Town with
him, and there give her all the Satisfaction she cou'd expect: And
having dipp'd some paltry Acres of Land, deeper than ever Heaven dipp'd
'em in Rain, he was as good as his Word, and brought her to Town with
him, where he told her he would place her with an ancient Lady, with
whom he had contracted a Friendship at his first coming to _London_;
adding, that she was a Lady of incomparable Morals, and of a matchless
Life and Conversation. _Philadelphia_ took him in the best Sense, and
was very desirous to be planted in the same House with her, hoping she
might grow to as great a Perfection in such excellent Qualifications, as
she imagined 'em. About four Days therefore after they had been in Town,
she sollicits her Brother to wait on that Lady with her: He reply'd,
that it is absolutely Necessary and Convenient that I should first
acquaint her with my Design, and beg that she will be pleas'd to take
you into her Care, and this shall be my chief Business to Day:
Accordingly, that very Hour he went to the Lady _Beldams_, his reverend
and honourable Acquaintance, whom he prepar'd for the Reception of his
Sister, who he told her was a Cast-Mistress of his, and desir'd her
Assistance to prevent the Trouble and Charge, which she knew such Cattle
would bring upon young Gentlemen of plentiful Estates. To morrow Morning
about Eleven, I'll leave her with your Ladyship, who, I doubt not, will
give her a wholesome Lesson or two before Night, and your Reward is
certain. My Son, (return'd she) I know the Greatness of your Spirit, the
Heat of your Temper has both warm'd and inflam'd me! I joy to see you in
Town again--Ah! That I could but recal one twenty Years for your
Sake!--Well--no matter.--I won't forget your Instructions, nor my Duty
to Morrow: In the mean time, I'll drink your Health in a Bottle of
_Sherry_ or two, O! Cry your Mercy, good my Lady _Beldam_, (said the
young Debauchee) I had like to have forfeited my Title to your Care, in
not remembring to leave you an Obligation. There are three Guinea's,
which, I hope, will plead for me till to Morrow.--So--Your Ladyship's
Servant humbly kisses your Hand. Your Honours most Obedient Servant,
most gratefully Acknowledges your Favours.--Your humble Servant, Good
Sir _William_, added she, seeing him leave her in haste.
Never were three Persons better pleas'd for a Time than this unnatural
Man, his sweet innocent Sister, and the Lady _Beldam_; upon his return
to _Philadelphia_, who could not rest that Night, for thinking on the
Happiness she was going to enjoy in the Conversation of so virtuous a
Lady as her Brother's Acquaintance, to whom she was in Hopes that she
might discover her dearest Thoughts, and complain of Sir _William's_
Extravagance and Unkindness, without running the Hazzard of being
betray'd; and at the same Time, reasonably expect from so pious a Lady
all the Assistance within her Capacity. On the other side, her Brother
hugg'd himself in the Prospect he had of getting rid of his own Sister,
and the Payment of 6000_l._ for the Sum of forty or fifty Guineas, by
the Help and Discretion of this sage Matron; who, for her part, by this
Time, had reckon'd up, and promis'd to herself an Advantage of at least
three hundred Pounds, one way or other by this bargain.
About Ten the next Morning, Sir _William_ took Coach with his Sister,
for the old Lady's Enchanted Castle, taking only one Trunk of hers with
them for the present, promising her to send her other Things to her the
next Day. The young Lady was very joyfully and respectfully received by
her Brother's venerable Acquaintance, who was mightily charm'd with her
Youth and Beauty. A Bottle of the Best was then strait brought in, and
not long after a very splendid Entertainment for Breakfast: The
Furniture was all very modish and rich, and the Attendance was suitable.
Nor was the Lady _Beldam's_ Conversation less obliging and modest, than
Sir _William's_ Discourse had given _Philadelphia_ occasion to expect.
After they had eaten and drank what they thought Convenient, the
reverend old Lady led 'em out of the Parlour to shew 'em the House,
every Room of which they found answerably furnish'd to that whence they
came. At last she led 'em into a very pleasant Chamber, richly hung, and
curiously adorn'd with the Pictures of several beautiful young Ladies,
wherein there was a Bed which might have been worthy the Reception of a
Dutchess: This, Madam, (said she) is your Apartment, with the
Anti-chamber, and little Withdrawing-Room. Alas, Madam! (returned the
dear innocent unthinking Lady) you set too great a Value on your
Servant; but I rather think your Ladyship designs me this Honour for the
sake of Sir _William_, who has had the Happiness of your Acquaintance
for some Months: Something for Sir _William_, (returned the venerable
Lady _Beldam_) but much more for your Ladyship's own, as you will have
Occasion to find hereafter. I shall Study to deserve your Favours and
Friendship, Madam, reply'd _Philadelphia_: I hope you will, Madam, said
the barbarous Man. But my Business now calls me hence; to Morrow at
Dinner I will return to you, and Order the rest of your Things to be
brought with me. In the mean while (pursu'd the Traytor, kissing his
Sister, as he thought and hop'd the last time) be as chearful as you
can, my Dear! and expect all you can wish from me. A thousand Thanks, my
dearest Brother, return'd she, with Tears in her Eyes: And Madam, (said
he to his old mischievous Confederate, giving her a very rich Purse
which held 50 Guineas) be pleas'd to accept this Trifle, as an humble
Acknowledgment of the great Favour you do this Lady, and the Care of
her, which you promise; and I'm sure she cannot want. --So, once more,
(added he) my Dear! and, Madam! I am your humble Servant _Jusqu'
a Revoir_, and went out bowing. Heavens bless my dear Brother! (cry'd
_Philadelphia_) your Honour's most Faithful and obedient Servant, said
the venerable _Beldam_.
No sooner was the treacherous Brother gone, than the old Lady taking
_Philadelphia_ by the Hand, led her into the Parlour; where she began to
her to this Effect: _If I mistake not, Madam, you were pleas'd to call
Sir +William+ Brother once or twice of late in Conversation: Pray be
pleas'd to satisfy my Curiosity so far as to inform me in the Truth of
this Matter? Is it really so or not?_ _Philadelphia_ reply'd, blushing,
your Ladyship strangely surprizes me with this Question: For, I thought
it had been past your Doubt that it is so. Did not he let you know so
much himself? I humbly beg your Pardon, Madam, (returned the true
Offspring of old Mother _Eve_) that I have so visibly disturb'd you by
my Curiosity: But, indeed, Madam, Sir _William_ did not say your
Ladyship was his Sister, when he gave me the Charge of you, as of the
nearest and dearest Friend he had in the World. Now our Father and
Mother are dead, (said the sweet Innocent) who never had more Children
than us two, who can be a nearer or dearer Friend unto me, than my
Brother Sir _William_, or than I his Sister to him? None? Certainly,
you'll excuse me, Madam, (answer'd t'other) a Wife or Mistress may.
A Wife indeed, (return'd the beautiful Innocent) has the Pre-eminence,
and perhaps, a Mistress too, if honourably lov'd and sought for in
Marriage: But, (she continu'd) I can assure your Ladyship that he has
not a Wife, nor did I ever hear he had a Mistress yet. Love in Youth
(said old Venerable) is very fearful of Discovery. I have known, Madam,
a great many fine young Gentlemen and Ladies, who have conceal'd their
violent Passions and greater Affection, under the Notion and Appellation
of Brother and Sister. And your Ladyship imagines, Sir _William_ and I
do so? reply'd _Philadelphia_, by way of Question. 'Twere no imprudence,
if you did, Madam, return'd old Lady _Beldam_, with all the Subtlety she
had learn'd from the Serpent. Alas! Madam, (reply'd she) there is
nothing like Secrecy in Love: 'Tis the very Life and Soul of it! I have
been young myself, and have known it by Experience. But, all this,
Madam, (interrupted _Philadelphia_, something nettl'd at her Discourse)
all this can't convince me, that I am not the true and only Sister both
by Father and Mother of Sir _William Wilding_; however, he wou'd impose
upon your Ladyship, for what Ends, indeed, I know not, unless
(unhappily, which Heaven forbid!) he designs to gain your Ladyship's
Assistance in defeating me of the Portion left me by my Father: But,
(she continued with Tears) I have too great an Assurance of your Virtue,
to Fear that you will consent to so wicked a Practise. You may be
confident, Madam, (said t'other) I never will. And, supposing that he
were capable of perpetrating so base an Act of himself, yet if your
Ladyship will be guided and directed by me, I will shew you the Means of
living Happy and Great, without your Portion, or your Brother's Help; so
much I am charm'd with your Beauty and Innocence.
But, pray, Madam, (pursu'd she) what is your Portion? And what makes you
doubt your Brother's Kindness? _Philadelphia_ then told her, how much
her Brother was to pay her, and gave her an Account of his
Extravagancies, as far as she knew 'em; to which t'other was no
Stranger; and (doubtless) cou'd have put a Period to her Sorrows with
her Life, had she given her as perfect a Relation of his riotous and
vicious Practices, as she was capable of: But she had farther Business
with her Life, and, in short, bid her be of good Comfort, and lay all
her Care on her, and then she cou'd not miss of continual Happiness. The
sweet Lady took all her Promises for sterling, and kissing her Impious
Hand, humbly return'd her Thanks. Not long after they went to Dinner;
and in the Afternoon, three or four young Ladies came to visit the Right
Reverend the Lady _Beldam_; who told her new Guest, that these were all
her Relations, and no less than her own Sister's Children. The Discourse
among 'em was general and very modest, which lasted for some Hours: For,
our Sex seldom wants matter of Tattle. But, whether their Tongues were
then miraculously wearied, or that they were tir'd with one continued
Scene of Place, I won't pretend to determine: But they left the Parlour
for the Garden, where after about half an Hour's Walk, there was a very
fine Desert of Sweetmeats and Fruits brought into one of the Arbours.
_Cherbetts_, _Ros Solis_, rich and small Wines, with Tea, Chocolate,
_&c._ compleated the old Lady's Treat; the Pleasure of which was much
heighten'd by the Voices of two of her Ladyship's Sham-Nieces, who sung
very charmingly. The Dear, sweet Creature, thought she had happily got
into the Company of Angels: But (alas!) they were Angels that had fallen
more than once. She heard talk of Nunneries, and having never been out
of her own Country till within four or five Days, she had certainly
concluded she had been in one of those Religious-Houses now, had she but
heard a Bell ring, and seen 'em kneel to Prayers, and make use of their
Beads, as she had been told those happy people do. However it was, she
was extremely pleas'd with the Place and Company. So nearly do's Hell
counterfeit Heaven sometimes. At last, said one of the white Devils,
wou'd my dear _Tommy_ were here! O Sister! (cry'd another) you won't be
long without your wish: For my Husband and he went out together, and
both promis'd to be here after the Play. Is my Brother Sir _Francis_
with him there? (ask'd the first) yes, (answer'd the third) Sir _Thomas_
and Sir _Francis_ took Coach from St. _James's_, about two Hours since:
We shall be excellent Company when they come, (said a fourth); I hope
they'll bring the Fiddlers with 'em, added the first: Don't you love
Musick, Madam? (ask'd the old Lady _Beldam_) Sometimes, Madam, (reply'd
_Philadelphia_) but now I am out o'tune myself. A little harmless Mirth
will chear your drooping Spirits, my dear, (return'd t'other, taking her
by the Hand) come! These are all my Relations, as I told you, Madam; and
so consequently are their Husbands. Are these Ladies all marry'd, Madam?
_Philadelphia_ ask'd. All, all, my dear Soul! (reply'd the insinuating
Mother of Iniquity;) and thou shalt have a Husband too, e're long. Alas,
Madam! (return'd the fair Innocent) I have no Merit, nor Money: Besides,
I never yet could Love so well as to make Choice of one Man before
another.
How long have you liv'd then, Madam? (ask'd the Lady _Beldam_) too long
by almost sixteen Years, (reply'd _Philadelphia_) had Heaven seen good.
This Conversation lasted till Word was brought that Sir _Francis_ and
Sir _Thomas_, with Two other Gentlemen were just lighted at the Gate:
Which so discompos'd the fair Innocent, that trembling, she begg'd leave
to retire to her Chamber. To which, after some Perswasion to the
contrary, the venerable _Beldam_ waited on her. For, these were none of
the Sparks to whom _Philadelphia_ was design'd to be Sacrific'd. In her
Retirement, the Beautiful dear Creature had the Satisfaction of venting
her Grief in Tears, and addressing herself to Heaven, on which only she
trusted, notwithstanding all the fair Promises of her reverend Hostess;
she had not been retir'd above an Hour, e're a She-attendant waited on
her, to know if she wanted any thing, and what she wou'd please to have
for her Supper; if she wou'd not give her Lady the Honour of her Company
below? To which she return'd, that she wou'd not Sup, and that she
wanted nothing but Rest, which she wou'd presently seek in Bed. This
Answer brought up the Officious old Lady herself; who, by all Means
wou'd needs see her undress'd, for other Reasons more than a bare
Compliment; which she perform'd with a great deal of Ceremony, and a
Diligence that seem'd more than double. For she had then the Opportunity
of observing the Delicacy of her Skin, the fine turn of her Limbs, and
the richness of her Night-dress, part of the Furniture of her Trunk. As
soon as she had cover'd herself, she kiss'd and wish'd her a good
Repose. The dear Soul, as Innocent and White as her Linen, return'd her
Thanks, and address'd herself to Sleep; out of which she was waken'd by
a loud Consort of Musick, in less than two Hours time, which continu'd
till long after Midnight. This occasion'd strange and doubtful Thoughts
in her, tho' she was altogether so unskill'd in these Mysteries, that
she cou'd not guess the right Meaning. She apprehended, that (possibly)
her Brother had a Mistress, from the Lady _Beldam's_ Discourse, and that
this was their Place of Assignation: Suspecting too, that either Sir
_Francis_, or Sir _Thomas_, of whom she had heard not long before, was
Sir _William_, her Brother. The Musick and all the Noise in the House
ceas'd about four a Clock in the Morning; when she again fell into a
Sleep, that took away the Sense of her Sorrows, and Doubts 'till Nine;
when she was again visited from her Lady, by the same She-attendant, to
know how she had rested, and if she wou'd Please to Command her any
Service. _Philadelphia_ reply'd, That she had rested very well most Part
of the Morning, and that she wanted nothing, but to know how her Lady
had Slept, and whether she were in Health, unless it were the Sight of
her Brother. The Servant return'd with this Answer to her Lady, while
_Philadelphia_ made shift to rise, and begin to Dress without an
Assistant; but she had hardly put on anything more than her Night-gown,
e're the Lady _Beldam_ herself came in her _Dishabille_, to assure her
of her Brother's Company with 'em at Dinner, exactly at One a Clock; and
finding _Philadelphia_ doing the Office of a Waiting-woman to herself,
call'd up the same Servant, and in a great Heat (in which however she
took Care to make Use of none of her familiar develish Dialect) ask'd
the Reason that she durst leave the Lady when she was Rising. The Wench
trembling, reply'd, That indeed the Lady did not let her know that she
had any Thoughts of Rising. Well then (said her seeming offended Lady)
stir not from her now, I charge you, 'till she shall think fit to
dismiss you, and Command your Absence. Dear Madam, Good Morrow to you,
(said she to _Philadelphia_) I'll make haste and Dress too. Good Morrow
to your Ladyship (return'd the design'd Victim) when she was _Habille_,
she desir'd the Servant to withdraw; after which she betook herself to
her Devotion; at the end of which the Lady _Beldam_ return'd, attended
by a Servant, who brought some Bread and Wine for her Breakfast; which
might then be seasonable enough to _Philadelphia_; who cou'd not forbear
discovering the Apprehensions she had of her Brother's Unkindness, still
entertaining her _Reverence_, with the Fear she had of his
Disappointment that Day at Dinner; which t'other oppos'd with all the
seeming Reasons her Art cou'd suggest, 'till the Clock had struck
Twelve; when a Servant came to tell the Lady _Beldam_, that one Sir
_William Wilding_ wou'd certainly wait on her precisely at One, and
desir'd that he might Dine in the young Lady's Apartment, to avoid being
seen by any Visitants that might come; and besides, that he had invited
a Gentleman, his particular Friend, to Dinner with him there. This
Message being deliver'd aloud by the Servant, was no little Satisfaction
to the poor desponding young Lady, who discours'd very chearfully of
indifferent Matters, 'till the Clock gave 'em Notice that the Hour was
come; within three Minutes after which, Word was brought to the Lady
_Beldam_, that a Gentleman below enquir'd for Sir _William Wilding_,
whom she immediately went down to receive, and led up to _Philadelphia_.
Madam, (cry'd the great Mistress of her Art) this is the Gentleman whom
Sir _William_ has invited to Dinner with us; and I am very Happy to see
him, for he is my worthy Friend, and of a long Acquaintance. Trust me,
Madam, he is a Man of Honour, and has a very large Estate: I doubt not
(added she) that you will find his Merits in his Conversation. Here
_Gracelove_, for that was the Gentleman's Name, saluted _Philadelphia_,
and acquitted himself like a Person of good Sense and Education, in his
first Address to her; which she return'd with all the Modesty and
ingenuous Simplicity that was still proper to her. At last she ask'd him
how long he thought it wou'd be e're Sir _William_ came? To which he
reply'd, that Sir _William_ told him, unless he were there exactly at
half an Hour after One, they shou'd not stay Dinner for him; that he had
not parted with him much above a Quarter of an Hour, when he left him
engag'd with particular Company, about some weighty Business: But
however, that, if he shou'd be so unhappy as to lose their Conversation
at Dinner, he wou'd not fail to wait on 'em by Four at farthest. The
young Lady seem'd a little uneasie at this; but the Gentleman appearing
so very Modest, and speaking it with such an assur'd Gravity, took away
all Thoughts of Suspicion. To say Truth, _Gracelove_ was a very honest,
modest, worthy and handsome Person; and had the Command, at present, of
a many Thousand Pounds, he was by Profession a _Turkey_ Merchant: He had
Travell'd much, for his Age, not having then reach'd Thirty, and had
seen most of the Courts in _Christendom_: He was a Man of a sweet
Temper, of just Principles, and of inviolable Friendship, where he
promis'd; which was no where, but where 'twas merited. The Minute came
then at length, but without any Sir _William_; so Dinner was serv'd up
in the Room next to _Philadelphia's_ Bed-chamber. What they had was Nice
and Seasonable; and they were all Three as Pleasant as cou'd be
expected, without Sir _William_; to whose Health the Glass went round
once or twice. Dinner over, and the Table clear'd, the old Lady _Beldam_
entreated Mr. _Gracelove_ to entertain the young Lady with a Discourse
of his Travels, and of the most remarkable Passages and Encounters of
'em, which he perform'd with a Modesty and Gravity peculiar to himself;
and in some part of his Discourse mov'd the innocent Passions of the
beauteous and compassionate _Philadelphia_; who was as attentive as she
us'd to be in Church at Divine Service. When the old Lady perceiv'd that
he had made an end, or at least, that he desir'd to proceed no farther,
she took Occasion to leave 'em together, in haste; pretending, that she
had forgotten to give Orders to one of her Servants, about a Business of
Moment, and that she wou'd return to 'em in a very little Time. The
Gentleman, you may believe, was very well pleas'd with her Retreat,
since he had a Discourse to make to _Philadelphia_ of a quite contrary
Nature to the Preceding, which requir'd Privacy: But how grateful her
Absence was to _Philadelphia_, we may judge by the Sequel. Madam, (said
_Gracelove_) how do you like the Town? Have you yet seen any Man here
whom you cou'd Love? Alas, Sir! (she reply'd) I have not seen the Town,
only in a Coach, as I pass'd along, nor ever was in any House, except
this and another, where my Brother lodg'd: And to your other Question I
must Answer, that I Love all Men. That's generous, indeed, Madam!
(cry'd he) there is then some hope that I am one of the Number. No
doubt, Sir, (she return'd) that I Love you as well as any, except Sir
_William_. Is he the happy Man then, Madam? (said _Gracelove_.) If to be
loved best by me, may make any Man happy, doubtless it must be he, for
he is my own Brother. I fancy, Madam, (return'd he) that you may make me
as dear a Relation to you, as Sir _William_. How is that possible, Sir?
she ask'd. Thus, Madam, (replied he, drawing closer to her) by our
nearer Approaches to one another. O, Heaven defend me! (cried she aloud)
what do you mean? Take away your Hand; you uncivil Man! Help! Madam! my
Lady! O, (said _Gracelove_) she's gone purposely out of hearing. Am I
betray'd then? She cried. Betray'd! as if your pretty innocent Ladyship
did not know where you were lodged. Ah, Lady, (said he) this Faint will
never do. Come, Child, (pursued he) here are an hundred Guineas for you;
and I promise you Yearly as much, and Two Hundred with every Child that
I shall get on thy sweet Body: Faith I love thee, thou pretty Creature.
Come! let's be better acquainted! you know my Meaning. Hell does, no
doubt of (she return'd!) O Monster a Man! I hate the Sight of you. With
that she flung from him, and ran into the Bed-chamber, where she thought
to have locked herself in; but the Key was conveyed into his Pocket.
Thither, therefore, he pursued her, crying, Ah, Madam, this is the
proper Field for our Dispute. Perceiving her Error, and animated by
Despair, she rushed between him and the Door, into the outward Room
again, he still following, and dodging her from Chair to Chair, she
still Shrieking. At last (cried he) a Parley, Madam, with you. Let me
ask you one Question, and will you Answer me directly and truly to it?
Indeed, I will, (said she) if it be Civil. Don't you know then, that you
are in a naughty House, and that old _Beldam_ is a rank Procuress, to
whom I am to give Two hundred Guineas for your Maidenhead? O Heaven
(cried she, kneeling with Tears gushing out from her dear Eyes) thou
Asserter and Guardian of Innocence! protect me from the impious
Practices intended against me! Then looking steadfastly on him, Sir,
(pursued she) I can but Difficultly guess what you mean: But I find,
that unless you prove what at first you seemed to me, I would say, an
honest worthy Gentleman, I shall be in danger of eternal Ruin. You, Sir,
are the only Person that may yet Preserve me. Therefore I beseech you,
Sir, hear my Story, with the Injuries and Afflictions that so dreadfully
torment me; of which, I am sure, none of those _Barbarians_, of which
you had Occasion to speak but now, would have been guilty! O hear, and
help me! for Heaven's Sake, hear and help me! I will, poor Creature,
(return'd he) methinks I now begin to see my Crime and thy Innocence in
thy Words and Looks. Here she recounted to him all the Accidents of her
Life, since her Father's Decease, to that very Day, e're _Gracelove_
came to Dinner. And now (cry'd she, sobbing and weeping) how dare I
trust this naughty Brother again? Can I be safe with him, think you,
Sir? O! no; thou dear sweet Creature! by no Means. O infernal Monsters,
Brother and Bawd! If you distrust that I am yet his Sister, here, Sir,
take this Key, (said she) and open that Trunk within, where you will
find Letters from him to me in his own Hand; and from my own dear dead
Father too, Sir _Edward_, that gracious, that good Man! He shew'd us
both the Paths of Virtue: which I have not yet forsaken. Pray satisfy
me, Sir, and see the Truth! For your Satisfaction I will, Madam,
(said he) but I am now fully convinc'd that you have greater Beauties
within, than those I admire without. Saying this, he open'd the Trunk,
where he read a Line or two from her Father, and as many from her
Brother, which having again laid down, return'd to her, with this
Advice: I see, Madam, (said he) that you have Money there, and several
Things of Value, which I desire you to secure about you this Moment; for
I mean to deliver you out of this cursed Place, if you dare put any
Confidence in a Stranger, after your own Brother has acted the Part of
so great a Villain; if you dare trust a Stranger too, Madam, who had
himself a Design upon you; Heaven forgive me for it! but by all Things
sacred, I find my Error: I pity you, and I fear I shall love you. Do you
fear that, Sir? (said she) Why I love you dearly now, because I see you
are going to be good again; that is, you are going to be yourself again.
I hope, nay, I resolve I will, tho' it cost me my Life (said he.) Can
you submit, Madam, to attend on a young Lady of my Acquaintance here in
Town, 'till I can provide better for you? O I can be any Thing;
a Chamber-Maid, a Cook-Maid, a Scullion, what you shall think fit, tho'
never so mean, that is not naughty. Well, Madam, (said he) compose your
self then, and seem a little pleasant when I bring up that old Factoress
of Hell. I will endeavour it, Sir, she return'd; and he went down to the
Devil's chief Agent, to whom he said, that the poor Thing was at first
very uneasy, but that now she had consented to go along with him for an
Hour or two to some other Place, doubting your Secrecy; for she would
not have her Brother know it, as she calls him, for a thousand Worlds,
and more Money. Well, my Son, (reply'd old _Beldam_) you may take her
with you: But you remember your Bargain. O fie, Mother! (cry'd he) did
you ever know me false to you? No, no, you smock'd-fac'd Wag, (said she)
but be sure you bring her again to Night, for fear Sir _William_ should
come. Never doubt it! Come up with me, (cry'd he) you'll see a strange
Alteration, I believe. To _Philadelphia_ they came then, whom they found
walking about the Room, and looking something more pleasantly than she
had ever done since she came thither. After she had taken her Money, and
other Things of Value, so, Madam, (said _Beldam_) how does your Ladiship
now? I find, the Sight of a young handsome Gentleman has work'd Wonders
with you in a little Time: I understand you are going to take a Walk
with my worthy Friend here, and 'tis well done: I dare trust you with
him, but with no other Man living, except Sir _William_. Madam,
(return'd the fair afflicted Lady) I am strangely oblig'd to you for
your Care of me, and am sure I shall never be able to return your
Obligations as I ought, and as I could wish. You won't stay late, Mr.
_Gracelove_? (said the Mother of Mischief.) No, no, (reply'd he) I will
only shew the Lady a Play, and return to Supper. What is play'd to
Night? (ask'd the old One) _The Cheats, +Mother+, the Cheats._ (answer'd
_Gracelove_.) Ha, (said _Beldam_, laughing) a very pretty Comedy,
indeed! Ay, if well play'd, return'd he. At these Words, they went down,
where a Coach was call'd; which carry'd 'em to Counsellor _Fairlaw's_
House, in _Great Lincolns-Inn-Fields_, whom they found accidentally at
Home; but his Lady and Daughter were just gone to Chapel, being then
turn'd of Five. _Gracelove_ began his Apology to the good old
Counsellor, who was his Relation, for bringing a strange Lady thither,
with a Design to place her in his Family: But Sir, continu'd he, if you
knew her sorrowful Story, you would be as ambitious of entertaining her,
as I am earnest to entreat it of you. A very beautiful Lady 'tis,
(return'd the Counsellor) and very modest, I believe. That I can witness
(reply'd t'other.) Alas, Sir! (said the fair Unfortunate) I have nothing
but my Modesty and honest Education to recommend me to your Regard. I am
wrong'd and forsaken by my nearest Relation; then she wept
extravagantly: That Gentleman can give you an Account of my Misfortunes,
if he pleases, with greater Ease and less Trouble than my self. Not with
less Trouble, believe me, Madam; (return'd _Gracelove_) and then began
to inform _Fairlaw_ in every Point of her unhappy Circumstances. The
good old Gentleman heard 'em with Amazement and Horror; but told her,
however, that she need not despond, for he would take Care to right her
against her Brother; and, that in the mean Time she should be as welcome
to him as any of his nearest Kindred, except his Wife and Daughter.
_Philadelphia_ would have knelt to thank him; but he told her, that
humble Posture was due to none but Heaven, and the King sometimes. In a
little While after, the Lady _Fairlaw_ and her Daughter came Home, who
were surpriz'd at the Sight of a Stranger, but more at her Beauty, and
most of all at her Story, which the good old Gentleman himself could not
forbear relating to 'em: Which ended, the Mother and Daughter both
kindly and tenderly embrac'd her, promising her all the Assistance
within their Power, and bid her a thousand Welcomes. _Gracelove_ stay'd
there 'till after Supper, and left her extremely satisfy'd with her new
Station. 'Twas here she fix'd then; and her Deportment was so obliging,
that they would not part with her for any Consideration. About three
Days after her coming from that lewd Woman's House, _Gracelove_ took a
Constable and some other Assistants, and went to _Beldam's_ to demand
the Trunk, and what was in it, which at first her Reverence deny'd to
return, 'till Mr. Constable produc'd the Emblem of his Authority, upon
which it was deliver'd, without so much as re-minding _Gracelove_ of his
Bargain; who then pretended he would search the House for Sir _William
Wilding_; but her graceless Reverence swore most devoutly that he had
never been there, and that she had neither seen nor heard from him since
the Day he left _Philadelphia_ with her. With these Things, and this
Account he return'd to Counsellor _Fairlaw's_, who desir'd _Gracelove_,
if possible, to find out Sir _William_, and employ'd several others on
the same Account. In less than a Month's Time _Gracelove_ had the good
Fortune to find him at his Lodgings in _Soho-Square_, where he
discours'd him about his Sister's Portion, and desir'd Sir _William_ to
take some speedy Care for the Payment of it; otherwise she had Friends
that would oblige him to it, tho' never so contrary to his Intentions.
_Wilding_ ask'd where she was? t'other enquir'd where he left her? Sir
_William_ reply'd, that he had plac'd her with an old grave Gentlewoman
of his Acquaintance, and that he thought she was there still. No, Sir,
(return'd _Gracelove_) I have deliver'd her out of the Jaws of Perdition
and Hell. Come, Sir _William_, (answer'd he) 'twas impiously done, to
leave your beautiful, young, and virtuous Sister, to the Management of
that pernicious Woman. I found her at old _Beldam's_, who would have
prostituted her to me for two hundred Guineas; but her heavenly Virtues
might have secur'd and guarded her from more violent Attempts than mine.
Blush, if you can, Sir! and repent of this! It will become you. If not,
Sir, you will hear farther from your Servant, added he, and left him
staring after him. This Discourse was a great Mortification to the
Knight, whose Conscience, harden'd as it was, felt yet some Pain by it.
He found he was not like to continue safe or at Ease there, where he
immediately retreated into a Place of Sanctuary, call'd the _Savoy_,
whither his whole Equipage was remov'd as soon as possible, he having
left Order with his Servants, to report that he went out of Town that
very Afternoon for his own Country. _Gracelove_ in the mean Time
return'd to the Counsellor's, with a great deal of Joy, for having
discover'd Sir _William_ at his Lodgings, which was likewise no little
Satisfaction to _Fairlaw_, his Lady and Daughter; _Philadelphia_ only
was disturb'd when she heard the good old Gentleman threaten to lay her
Brother fast enough: But, alas! he was too cunning for 'em; for in a
whole Twelvemonth after, all which Time they made Enquiry, and narrowly
search'd for him, they could not see him, nor any one that could give an
Account of him, for he had chang'd his true Name and Title, for that of
'Squire _Sportman_. The farther Pursuit of him then seem'd fruitless to
'em, and they were forc'd to be contented with their Wishes to find him.
_Gracelove_ by this Time had entertain'd the sincerest Affections and
noblest Passion that Man can be capable of, for _Philadelphia_; of which
he had made her sensible, who had at that Time comply'd with his
honourable Demands, had she not entreated him to expect a kind Turn of
Providence, which might, (happily) e're long, put her in Possession of
her Right; without which, she told him, she could not consent to marry
him, who had so plentiful a Fortune, and she nothing but her Person and
Innocence. How, Madam! (cry'd he) have you no Love in Store for me! Yes,
Sir, (return'd she) as much as you can wish I have in Store for you, and
so I beg it may be kept 'till a better Opportunity. Well, Madam,
(said he) I must leave you for some Months, perhaps for a whole Year;
I have receiv'd Letters of Advice that urge the Necessity of my going to
_Turkey_; I have not a Week's Time to endeavour so dreaded a Separation
as I must suffer; therefore, thou beautiful, thou dear, thou virtuous
Creature, let me begin now! Here, thou tenderest Part of my Soul!
(continu'd he, giving her a rich Diamond Ring) wear this 'till my
Return! I hope the Sight of it may sometimes re-call the dying Memory of
_Gracelove_ to your better-busy'd Thoughts. Ah, _Gracelove_! (said she)
nothing can so well, nothing I am sure can better employ my Thoughts,
than thy dear self: Heaven only excepted. They enlarg'd a great deal
more on this Subject at that Time; but the Night before his Departure
was entirely spent in Sighs, Vows, and Tears, on both Sides. In the
Morning, after he had again entreated his Cousin's, and the Lady's, and
her Daughter's Care and Kindness to _Philadelphia_, the remaining and
best Part of his Soul, with one hearty Kiss, accompany'd with Tears, he
took a long Farewel of his dear Mistress, who pursu'd him with her Eyes,
'till they could give her no farther Intelligence of him; and they
help'd her Kindness to him, and eas'd her Grief for his Absence in
weeping for above a Week together, when in private. He never omitted
writing to her and his Cousin by every Opportunity, for near nine
Months, as he touch'd at any Port; but afterwards they could not hear
from him for above half a Year; when, by Accident, the Counsellor met a
Gentleman of _Gracelove's_ Acquaintance at a Coffee-House, who gave him
an Account, that the Ship and he were both cast away, near five Months
since; that most if not all of the Ship's Company perish'd; of which,
'twas fear'd, _Gracelove_ was one, having never since been heard of.
That his Loss in that Ship amounted to above twelve thousand Pounds:
With this dreadful and amazing News the good old Gentleman returns Home,
afflicts his poor sorrowful Lady and Daughter, and almost kills unhappy
_Philadelphia_; who the next Day, by mere Chance, and from a Stranger,
who came on Business to the Counsellor, heard, that one Sir _William
Wilding_, an extravagant, mad, young Spark of such a County, who lately
went by the borrow'd Name and Title of 'Squire _Sportman_, had mortgag'd
all his Estate, which was near four thousand a Year, and carry'd the
Money over with him into _France_ on Saturday last. This, added to the
former News, put so great a Check on her Spirits, that she immediately
dropp'd down in a Swoon; whence she only recover'd, to fall into what
was of a much more dangerous Consequence, a violent Feaver, which held
her for near six Weeks, e're she could get Strength enough to go down
Stairs: In all which Time, Madam _Fairlaw_ and _Eugenia_, her Daughter,
attended her as carefully and constantly, as if they had been her own
Mother and Sister: The good old Counsellor still commending and
encouraging their Care. The Roses and Lillies at last took their Places
again; but the Clouds of her Sorrow were still but too visible. Two
Years more past, without one Word of Advice from _Gracelove_ or any
Account of him from any one else; insomuch, that they all concluded he
was certainly dead: And, 'twas true, indeed, that his Ship and he were
cast away, much about that Time that the Gentleman gave _Fairlaw_ a
Relation: That 'twas certain he had lost above 12000_l._ and had like
to have lost his Life; but being very expert in Swimming, he got to
Shoar upon the Coast of _Barbary_, the Wreck happening not to be above
three Leagues thence; he was in almost as bad a Condition as if he had
been drown'd, for here he was made a Prisoner to one of the Natives; in
which miserable Circumstance he lanquish'd for above six Years, for Want
of a Ransom; which he had often endeavour'd to raise by Letters, that he
sent hither to his Friends (in _England_;) amongst which Counsellor
_Fairlaw_ was one of his most particular and assur'd. But however
Providence or Accident, if you please, order'd it, not a Line came to
the Hands of any of his Friends; so that had not Heaven had yet a future
Blessing in Store for him, he had certainly have better perish'd in the
Sea, than to have fall'n into the Power of a People less merciful than
Seas, Winds, or hungry wild Beasts in Pursuit of their Prey. But this
could not be learn'd (it seems) from any Man but himself, upon his
Return, after his Redemption.
Two Years more pass'd on; towards the latter of which the old Lady
_Fairlaw_ took her Bed, desperately sick, insomuch that she was given
over by all her Physicians; she continu'd in great Misery for near two
Months; in all which Time _Philadelphia_ was constantly with her all the
Day, or all the Night; much about that Time she dy'd; and, dying, told
her Husband, that she had observ'd he had a particular Esteem or
Kindness for _Philadelphia_; which was now a great Satisfaction to her;
since she was assur'd, that if he marry'd her, she would prove an
excellent Nurse to him, and prolong his Life by some Years. As for
_Eugenia_, (added she) you need not be concern'd; I'm sure she will
consent to any Thing that you shall propose, having already so
plentifully provided for her. The good old Gentleman answer'd, that he
would fulfil her Will as far as lay in his Power: And not long after,
she departed this Life. Her Burial was very handsome and honourable.
Half a Year was now expir'd since her Interment, when the old Counsellor
began to plead his own Cause to young _Philadelphia_, reminding her that
now the Death of _Gracelove_ was out of Question; and that therefore she
was as much at her Liberty to make her own Choice of an Husband as he
was of a Wife; not forgetting, at the same Time, to let her know, that
his Widow, (whoever had the good Fortune to be so) would be worth above
thirty thousand Pounds in ready Money, besides a thousand a Year. But,
above all, he urg'd his dying Lady's last Advice to him, that he would
marry her; and hop'd she would see the Will of the Dead satisfy'd. The
young Lady being broken in Sorrows, and having mortify'd all her
Appetites to the Enjoyments of this World, and not knowing where to meet
with so fair an Overture, tho' at first, in Modesty, she seem'd to
refuse it as too great an Honour, yet yielded to less than a Quarter of
an Hour's Courtship. And the next Sunday marry'd they were, with the
Consent, and to the perfect Satisfaction of, his Daughter, Madam
_Eugenia_; who lov'd _Philadelphia_ sincerely. They kept their
Wedding very nobly for a Month, at their own House in _Great
Lincolns-Inn-Fields_; but the Memory of the old Lady was still so fresh
with the young Lady _Fairlaw_, that she prevail'd with him to remove to
another, more convenient as she fancy'd, in _Covent-Garden_. They had
dwelt there not much more than four Months, e're the good old Gentleman
fell sick and dy'd. Whether it were the Change of an old House for a
new, or an old Wife for a young, is yet uncertain, tho' his Physicians
said, and are still of Opinion, that, doubtless, it was the last. 'Tis
past all Doubt, that she did really mourn for and lament his Death; for
she lov'd him perfectly, and pay'd him all the dutiful respect of a
virtuous Wife, while she liv'd within that State with him; which he
rewarded as I have said before. His Funeral was very sumptuous and
honourable indeed! and as soon as it was over, _Eugenia_ desir'd her
young beautiful Mother-in-Law to retreat a little with her into the
Country, to a pleasant House she had, not twenty Miles distant from
Town; urging, That she could by no Means enjoy her self under that Roof,
where her dear Father dy'd. The obliging Step-mother, who might more
properly have been call'd her Sister, being exactly of the same Age with
her, readily comply'd, and she pass'd away all that Summer with
_Eugenia_, at their Country-Seat, and most Part of the Winter too; for
_Eugenia_ could by no Means be prevail'd on to lie one Night in her
Mother's House; 'twas with some Reluctancy that she consented to dine
there sometimes. At length the whole Year of _Philadelphia's_ Widowhood
was expir'd; during which, you can't but imagine that she was solicited
and address'd to by as many Lovers, or pretended Lovers, as our dear
King _Charles_, whom God grant long to reign, was lately by the
Presbyterians, Independants, Anabaptists, and all those canting whiggish
Brethren! But she had never lik'd any Man so well as to make him her
Husband, by Inclination, unless it was _Gracelove_, devour'd by the
greedy Inhabitants of the Sea.
Whilst her Fortune began to mend thus, her Brother's grew worse; but
that was indeed the Effect of his Extravagancy: In less than two Years
Time, he had spent eight thousand Pounds in _France_, whence he return'd
to _England_, and pursuing his old profuse Manner of Living, contracted
above 100_l._ Debts here, in less than four Months Time; which not being
able to satisfy, he was arrested, and thrown into a Goal, whence he
remov'd himself into the _King's Bench_, on that very Day that old
_Fairlaw_ dy'd. There, at first, for about a Month, he was entertain'd
like a Gentleman; but finding no Money coming, nor having a Prospect of
any, the Marshal and his Instruments turn'd him to the Common Side,
where he learnt the Art of Peg-making, a Mystery to which he had been a
Stranger all his Life long 'till then. 'Twas then he wish'd he might see
his Sister, hoping that she was in a Condition to relieve him; which he
was apt to believe, from the Discourse he had with _Gracelove_ some
Years past. Often he wish'd to see her, but in vain; however, the next
_Easter_ after the old Counsellor's Death, _Philadelphia_, according to
his Custom, sent her Steward to relieve all the poor Prisoners about
Town; among the rest he visited those in the common Side of the _King's
Bench_, where he heard 'em call Sir _William Wilding_ to partake of his
Lady's Charity. The poor Prodigal was then feeding on the Relief of the
Basket, not being yet able to get his Bread at his new Trade: To him the
Steward gave a Crown, whereas the other had but Half a Crown apiece.
Then he enquir'd of some of the unhappy Gentlemen, Sir _William's_
Fellow-Collegians, of what Country Sir _William_ was? How long he had
been there? And how much his Debts were? All of which he receiv'd a
satisfactory Account. Upon his Return to his Lady, he repeated the
dismal News of her Brother's Misfortunes to her; who immediately
dispatch'd him back again to the Prison, with Orders to give him twenty
Shillings more at present, and to get him remov'd to the Master's Side,
into a convenient Chamber, for the Rent of which the Steward engag'd to
pay; and promis'd him, as she had commanded, twenty Shillings a Week, as
long as he stay'd there, on Condition that he would give the Names of
all his Creditors, and of all those to whom he had engag'd any Part of
his Estate; which the poor Gentleman did most readily and faithfully:
After which, the Steward enquir'd for a Taylor, who came and took
Measure of _Philadelphia's_ unkind Brother, and was order'd to provide
him Linnen, a Hat, Shoes, Stockings, and all such Necessaries, not so
much as omitting a Sword: With all which he acquainted his Lady at his
Return; who was very much griev'd at her Brother's unhappy
Circumstances, and at the same Time extremely well pleas'd to find her
self in a Condition to relieve him. The Steward went constantly once a
Week to pay him his Money; and Sir _William_ was continually very
curious to know to whom he was oblig'd for so many and great Favours;
But he was answer'd, That they came from a Lady who desir'd to have her
Name conceal'd. In less than a Year, _Philadelphia_ had paid 25000_l._
and taken off the Mortgages on 2500_l._ _per Annum_ of her Brother's
Estate; and coming to Town from _Eugenia's_ Country-House one Day, to
make the last Payment of two thousand Pounds, looking out of her Coach
on the Road, near _Dartford_, she saw a Traveller on Foot, who seem'd to
be tir'd with his Journey, whose Face, she thought, she had formerly
known: This Thought invited her to look on him so long, that she, at
last, perswaded her self it was _Gracelove_, or his Ghost: For, to say
Truth, he was very pale and thin, his Complexion swarthy, and his
Cloaths (perhaps) as rotten as if he had been bury'd in 'em. However,
unpleasant as it was, she could not forbear gazing after this miserable
Spectacle; and the more she beheld it, the more she was confirmed it was
_Gracelove_, or something that had usurp'd his Figure. In short, she
could not rest 'till she call'd to one of her Servants, who rode by the
Coach, whom she strictly charg'd to go to that poor Traveller, and mount
him on his Horse, 'till they came to _Dartford_; where she order'd him
to take him to the same Inn where she baited, and refresh him with any
Thing that he would eat or drink; and after that, to hire a Horse for
him, to come to Town with them: That then he should be brought Home to
her own House, and be carefully look'd after, 'till farther Orders from
her. All which was most duly and punctually perform'd.
The next Morning early she sent for the Steward, whom she order'd to
take the Stranger to a Sale-shop, and fit him with a Suit of good
Cloaths, to buy him Shirts, and other Linnen, and all Necessaries, as he
had provided for her Brother; and gave him Charge to use him as her
particular Friend, during his Stay there, bidding him, withal, learn his
Name and Circumstances, if possible, and to supply him with Money for
his Pocket Expences: All which he most faithfully and discreetly
perform'd, and brought his Lady an Account of his Sufferings by Sea, and
Slavery among the _Turks_, as I have before related; adding, that his
Name was _Gracelove_. This was the greatest Happiness, certainly, that
ever yet the dear beautiful Creature was sensible of. On t'other Side,
_Gracelove_ could not but admire and praise his good Fortune, that had
so miraculously and bountifully reliev'd him; and one Day having some
private Discourse with the Steward, he could not forbear expressing the
Sense he had of it; declaring, That he could not have expected such kind
Treatment from any Body breathing, but from his Cousin, Counsellor
_Fairlaw_, his Lady, or another young Lady, whom he plac'd and left with
his Cousins. Counsellor _Fairlaw_! (cry'd the Steward) why, Sir, my Lady
is the old Counsellor's Widow; she is very beautiful and young too. What
was her Name, Sir, before she marry'd the Counsellor? (ask'd
_Gracelove_) That I know not, (reply'd t'other) for the old Steward dy'd
presently after the old Lady, which is not a Year and a Half since; in
whose Place I succeed; and I have never been so curious or inquisitive,
as to pry into former Passages of the Family. Do you know, Sir, (said
_Gracelove_) whereabouts in Town they liv'd before? Yes, Sir,
(return'd the Steward, who was taught how to answer) in _Great
Lincolns-Inn-Fields_, I think, Alas! (cry'd _Gracelove_) 'twas the same
Gentleman to whom I design'd to apply my self when I came to _England_.
You need not despair now, Sir, (said t'other) I dare say my Lady will
supply your Wants. O wonderful Goodness of a Stranger! (cry'd
_Gracelove_) uncommon and rare amongst Relations and Friends! How have
I, or how can I ever merit this? Upon the End of their Conference, the
Steward went to _Philadelphia_, and repeated it almost _verbatim_ to
her; who order'd _Gracelove_ should be taken Measure of by the best
Taylor in _Covent-Garden_; that he should have three of the most modish
rich Suits made, that might become a private Gentleman of a Thousand
Pounds a Year, and Hats, Perukes, Linnen, Swords, and all Things
suitable to 'em, all to be got ready in less than a Month; in which
Time, she took all the Opportunity she could either find or make to see
him, and not to be seen by him: She oblig'd her Steward to invite him to
a Play, whither she follow'd 'em, and sate next to _Gracelove_, and
talk'd with him; but all the while masq'd. In this Month's Time she was
daily pester'd with the Visits of her Addressors; several there were of
'em; but the chief were only a Lord of a very small Estate, tho' of a
pretty great Age; a young blustering Knight, who had a Place of 500_l._
a Year at Court; and a County Gentleman, of a very plentiful Estate,
a Widower, and of a middle Age. These three only of her Lovers she
invited to Dinner, on the first Day of the next Month: In the mean while
she sent a rich Suit, and Equipage proportionable, to her Brother, with
an Invitation to dine with her on the same Day. Then she writ to
_Eugenia_ to come and stay in Town, if not in the same House with her,
for two or three Days before; which her affectionate Daughter obey'd; to
whom _Philadelphia_ related all her Brother's past Extravagancies and
what she had done for him in redeeming most Part of his Estate; begging
of her, that if she could fancy his Person, she would take him into her
Mercy and marry him. Being assur'd, that such a virtuous Wife as she
would prove, must necessarily reclaim him, if yet he were not perfectly
convinc'd of his Follies; which, she doubted not, his late long
Sufferings had done. _Eugenia_ return'd, That she would wholly be
directed and advis'd by her in all Things; and that certainly she could
not but like the Brother, since she lov'd the Sister so perfectly and
truly.
The Day came, and just at Twelve, _Gracelove_, meeting the Steward on
the Stairs coming from his Lady, _Gracelove_ then told him, that he
believ'd he might take the Opportunity of that Afternoon to go over to
_Putney_, and take a Game or two at Bowls. The Steward return'd, Very
well, Sir, I shall let my Lady know it, if she enquires for you.
_Philadelphia_, who overheard what they said, call'd the Steward in
Haste, and bid him call _Gracelove_ back, and tell him, she expected his
Company at her Table to Day, and that she desir'd he would appear like
himself. The Steward soon overtook him at the Door, just going out as
_Eugenia_ came in, who look'd back on _Gracelove_: The poor Gentleman
was strangely surpriz'd at the Sight of her, as she was at his; but the
Steward's Message did more amaze and confound him. He went directly to
his Chamber, to dress himself in one of those rich Suits lately made for
him; but, the Distraction he was in, made him mistake his Coat for his
Wastcoat, and put the Coat on first; but, recalling his straggling
Thoughts, he made Shift to get ready time enough to make his Appearance
without a second Summons. _Philadelphia_ was as pleasant at Dinner, as
ever she had been all her Life; she look'd very obligingly on all the
Sparks, and drank to every one of 'em particularly, beginning to the
Lord--and ending to the Stranger, who durst hardly lift up his Eyes a
second Time to her's, to confirm him that he knew her. Her Brother was
so confounded, that he bow'd and continu'd his Head down 'till she had
done drinking, not daring to encounter her Eyes, that would then have
reproach'd him with his Villany to her.
After Dinner the Cloth was taken away; She began thus to her Lovers: My
Lord! Sir _Thomas_! and Mr. _Fat-acres_! I doubt not, that it will be of
some Satisfaction to you, to know whom I have made Choice for my next
Husband; which now I am resolv'd no longer to defer.
The Person to whom I shall next drink, must be the Man who shall ever
command me and my Fortune, were it ten times greater than it is; which I
wish only for his Sake, since he deserves much more.--Here, (said she to
one that waited) put Wine into two Glasses: Then she took the Diamond
Ring from her Finger, and put it into one of 'em. My dear _Gracelove_,
(cry'd she) I drank to thee; and send thee back thy own Ring, with
_Philadelphia's_ Heart. He startl'd, blush'd, and looked wildly; whilst
all the Company stared on him. Nay, pledge me, (persu'd she) and return
me the Ring: for it shall make us both one the next Morning. He bow'd,
kiss'd, and return'd it, after he had taken off his Wine. The defeated
Lovers knew not how to resent it? The Lord and Knight were for going,
but the Country Gentleman oppos'd it, and told 'em, 'twas the greatest
Argument of Folly, to be disturb'd at the Caprice of a Woman's Humour.
They sate down again therefore, and she invited 'em to her Wedding on
the Morrow.
And now, Brother, (said she) I have not quite forgotten you, tho' you
have not been pleas'd to take Notice of me: I have a Dish in Reserve for
you, which will be more grateful to your Fancy than all you have tasted
to Day. Here! (cry'd she to the Steward) Mr. _Rightman_, do you serve up
that Dish your self. _Rightman_ then set a cover'd Dish on the Table.
What! more Tricks yet? (cry'd my Lord and Sir _Thomas_) Come, Sir
_William_! (said his Sister) uncover it! he did so; and cry'd out,
O matchless Goodness of a virtuous Sister! here are the Mortgages of the
best Part of my Estate! O! what a Villain! what a Monster have I been!
no more, dear Brother; (said she, with Tears in her Eyes) I have yet a
greater Happiness in Store for you: This Lady, this beautiful virtuous
Lady, with twenty thousand Pounds, will make you happy in her Love.
Saying this, she join'd their Hands; Sir _William_ eagerly kiss'd
_Eugenia's_, who blush'd, and said, Thus, Madam, I hope to shew how much
I love and honour you. My Cousin _Eugenia_! (cry'd _Gracelove_!) The
same, my dear lost dead Cousin _Gracelove_! (reply'd she) O! (said he in
a Transport) my present Joys are greater than all my past Miseries! my
Mistress and my Friend are found, and still are mine. Nay, (faith, said
my Lord) this is pleasant enough to me, tho' I have been defeated of the
Enjoyment of the Lady. The whole Company in general went away very well
that Night, who return'd the next Morning, and saw the two happy Pair
firmly united.
_FINIS._
NOTES: The Unfortunate Happy Lady.
p. 43 _Ros Solis._ A potent and well-liked tipple.
We abandon all ale
And beer that is stale
Rosa-solis and damnable hum,
But we will rack
In the praise of sack
'Gainst Omne quod exit in um.
--_Witts Recreation_ (1654).
_The Accomplished Female Instructor_ gives the following recipe: 'Rossa
Solis; Take of clean spirits, not too strong, two quarts and a quart of
spring-water; let them seethe gently over a soft fire till about a pint
is evaporated; then put in four spoonfuls of orange-flower-water, and as
much of very good cinnamon-water; crush 3 eggs in pieces, and throw them
in shell and all; stir it well, and when it boiles up a little take it
off.' This drink was so great a favourite with Louis XIV that a
particular sort was named Rossolis du Roi.
p. 51 _The Cheats, Mother, the Cheats._ John Wilson's excellent comedy,
_The Cheats_, which was written and produced in 1662, attained great
popularity. It ran into four editions ('imprimatur, 5 November, 1663');
4to, 1664; 1671; 1684; 1693. Caustically satirizing the Puritans, it
became a stock piece, and was acted as late as May, 1721, when Griffin,
Harper, Diggs, and Mrs. Gifford sustained the parts which had been
created by Lacy, Mohun, Hart, and Mrs. Corey.
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