The Effects of Jealousy have ever been most fatal; and it is certainly
one of the most tormenting Passions that an human Soul can be capable
of, tho' it be created by the least Appearances of Reason: The Truth of
which this following Story will evince.
Sir _Henry Hardyman_ was a Gentleman of a very large Estate in
_Somersetshire_, of a very generous Temper, hospitable almost to
_Extravagancy_; a _plain down-right Dealer, wonderfully good-natur'd_,
but very _passionate_: Whose Lady dying, left him only a Son and a
Daughter; between whom there were about six Years Difference in their
Age. _Miles Hardyman_ (for so the Son was call'd) being the eldest; both
of naturally virtuous Inclinations, which were carefully improv'd by a
generous and pious Education. _Miles_ was a very tall, large, and
well-proportion'd Person at Two and Twenty; brave and active, and seem'd
to be born for War, tho' he had a Heart as tender and capable of
receiving the Impressions of Love as any of our Sex. He had been bred
for some Years at the University; where, among other Things, he learn'd
to fence; in which, however, he was mightily improv'd in a Twelvemonth's
Time that he stay'd here in Town. _Lucretia_, his Sister, was beautiful
enough, her Father designing to give ten thousand Pounds with her on
Marriage; but (which is above all) she was incomparably good-humour'd.
At his Return to his Father in the Country, young _Hardyman_ found Madam
_Diana Constance_, a most beautiful Lady, with his Sister, at that Time
about 16 Years old; somewhat tall of her Age, of happy and virtuous
Education, of an indifferent Fortune, not exceeding two thousand Pounds,
which was no Way answerable to the Expectations he had after his
Father's Death; but it was impossible he should not love her, she was so
prodigiously charming both in her inward and outward Excellencies;
especially since he had the Opportunity of conversing with her at his
Father's for above a Month. 'Tis true, he had seen her before, but it
was then five Years since. Love her he did then, and that most
passionately; nor was she insensible or ungrateful. But our young Lovers
had not Discretion enough to conceal the Symptoms of their Passion,
which too visibly and frequently sally'd out at their Eyes before the
old Gentleman; which made him prudently, as he thought, and timely
enough, offer his Daughter _Lucretia_ the Liberty of taking a small
Journey with _Diana_ to her House, which was not above 20 Miles thence,
where that young Lady's Aunt govern'd in her Absence; for _Diana_ had no
other Relation, so near as she was, living in _England_, her only
Brother _Lewis_ having been in _Italy_ and _France_ ever since her
Father dy'd, which was then near five Years past.
_Lucretia_, over-joy'd at her Father's pretended Kindness, propos'd it
to the young Lady, her Friend, who was very fond of the Proposal, hoping
that _Lucretia's_ Brother might bear 'em Company there for some little
Time; but old Sir _Henry_ had quite different Thoughts of the Matter.
The third Day, from the first Discourse of it, was assign'd for their
Departure. In the mean Time young _Hardyman_ knew not what to think of
the Divorce he was going to suffer; for he began to have some
Apprehensions that the old Knight was sensible, and displeas'd, that
they lov'd each other: Not but that the Family of the _Constances_ was
as ancient and honourable as that of _Hardymans_, and was once endow'd
with as plentiful an Estate, tho' now young _Lewis Constance_ had not
above 1200_l._ a Year. (O the unkind Distance that Money makes, even
between Friends!)
Old 'Squire _Constance_ was a very worthy Gentleman, and Sir _Henry_ had
a particular Friendship for him; but (perhaps) that dy'd with him, and
only a neighbourly Kindness, or something more than an ordinary Respect,
surviv'd to his Posterity. The Day came that was to carry 'em to the
young Lady _Constance's_, and her Lover was preparing to attend 'em,
when the old Gentleman ask'd him, What he meant by that Preparation? And
whether he design'd to leave him alone? Or if he could think 'twere
dutifully or decently done? To which the Son reply'd, That his Care of
his Sister, and his Respect to a young Lady, in a Manner a Stranger to
him, had misled his Thoughts from that Duty and Regard he ought to have
pay'd to his Father, which he hop'd and begg'd he would pardon, tho' he
design'd only just to have seen her safe there, and to have return'd at
Night. With this the old Gentleman seem'd pacify'd for the present; and
he bid him go take Leave of the Lady; which he did with a great deal of
Concern, telling her, that he should be most miserable 'till he had the
Happiness of seeing her again; however, he begg'd she would converse
with him by Letters, which might (happily) a little palliate his
Misfortune in her Absence: Adding, that he would be eternally hers, and
none but hers. To which she made as kind a Return as he could wish;
letting him know, that she desired to live no longer than she was
assur'd that she was belov'd by him. Then taking as solemn a Farewel of
her as if he had never been to see her more, after he had given his
Sister a parting Kiss or two, he led 'em down to his Father, who saw 'em
mounted, and attended by two of his Servants. After which he walked with
'em about a Mile from the House, where he and young _Hardyman_ left 'em
to persue their Journey.
In their Return to the House, said Sir _Henry_, I find, Son, I have
hitherto mistaken your Inclinations: I thought they had altogether
prompted you to great and manly Actions and Attempts; but, to my Sorrow,
I now find my Error. How, I beseech you, Sir? (ask'd the Son.) You are
guilty of a foolish lazy Passion, (reply'd the Father) you are in Love,
_Miles_; in Love with one who can no Way advance your Fortune, Family,
nor Fame. 'Tis true, she has Beauty, and o'my Conscience she is virtuous
too; but will Beauty and Virtue, with a small Portion of 2000_l._ answer
to the Estate of near 4000_l._ a Year, which you must inherit if you
survive me? Beauty and Virtue, Sir, (return'd young _Hardyman_) with the
Addition of good Humour and Education, is a Dowry that may merit a
Crown. Notion! Stuff! All Stuff (cry'd the old Knight) Money is Beauty,
Virtue, good Humour, Education, Reputation, and high Birth. Thank
Heaven, Sir, (said _Miles_) you don't live as if you believ'd your own
Doctrine; you part with your Money very freely in your House-keeping,
and I am happy to see it. 'Tis that I value it for; (reply'd the Father)
I would therefore have thee, my Son, add to what in all Likelihood will
be thine, so considerably, by Marriage, that thou mayst better deserve
the Character of Hospitable _Hardyman_ than thy Father Sir
_Henry_.--Come, _Miles_, (return'd he) thou shalt think no more on her.
I can't avoid it, Sir, (said t'other.) Well, well, think of her you may,
(said Sir _Henry_) but not as for a Wife; no, if you mean to continue in
your Father's Love, be not in Love with Madam _Diana_, nor with any of
her Nymphs, tho' never so fair or so chast--unless they have got Store
of Money, Store of Money, _Miles_. Come, come in, we'll take a Game at
_Chess_ before Dinner, if we can. I obey you, Sir, (return'd the Son)
but if I win, I shall have the Liberty to love the Lady, I hope. I made
no such Promise, (said the Knight) no, no Love without my Leave; but if
you give me _Checque-Mate_, you shall have my Bay Gelding, and I would
not take 50 Broad Pieces for him. I'll do my best, Sir, to deserve him,
(said the young Gentleman.) 'Tis a mettl'd and fiery Beast (said Sir
_Henry_.) They began their Game then, and had made about six Moves
apiece before Dinner, which was serv'd up near four Hours after they
sate down to play. It happen'd they had no Company din'd with 'em that
Day; so they made a hasty Meal, and fell again to their former Dispute,
which held 'em near six Hours longer; when, either the Knight's
Inadvertency, or the young Gentleman's Skill and Application, gave him
the Victory and Reward.
The next Day they hunted; the Day following, the House was fill'd with
Friends, and Strangers; who came with 'em; all which were certain of a
hearty Welcome e'er they return'd. Other Days other Company came in, as
Neighbours; and none of all that made their Visits, could be dismiss'd
under three or four Days at soonest.
Thus they past the Hours away for about six Weeks; in all which Time our
Lover could get but one Opportunity of writing to his adorable, and that
was by the Means of a Servant, who came with a Letter from his Sister
_Lucretia_ to Sir _Henry_, and another to him, that held one inclos'd to
him from the beautiful _Diana_; the Words, as perfectly as I can
remember 'em, were these, or to this Effect:
_My +Hardyman+,_
_Too Dear!--No,--too much lov'd!--That's impossible too. How have I
enjoy'd my self with your Letters since my Absence from you! In the
first, how movingly you lament the unkind Distances of Time and
Place that thus divorces you from me! In another, in what tender
and prevailing Words your Passion is express'd! In a Third, what
invincible Arguments are urg'd to prove the Presence of your Soul to
me in the Absence of your Body! A Fourth, how fill'd with just
Complaints of a rigorous Father! What Assurances does the Fifth
give me of your speedy Journey hither! And the Sixth, (for no less
methought I should have receiv'd from you) confirms what you last
said to me, +That you will ever be mine, and none but mine.
--O boundless Blessing!+ --These (my Life) are the Dreams, which,
for six several Nights, have mock'd the real Passion of_
_Your forgotten +Diana+._
He read it, smil'd, and kiss'd it, and then proceeded to examine his
Sisters, which held a great many Expressions of a tender Affection, and
withal gave him Notice, that there was a mighty Spark lately come from
Town into those Parts, that made his Court to the young Lady
_Constance_; desiring him therefore to be as sudden in his Visit, if he
intended any, as Possibility would permit. This startled and stung him:
Wherefore, taking the Opportunity of his Father's Retirement, to write
to the young Lady and his Sister; he dispatch'd a Letter to _Lucretia_,
wherein he thank'd her for her Intelligence and Caution, and promis'd to
be with her the next Night at farthest, if alive; and, at the same Time,
writ to this Purpose to _Diana_:
Thou only Blessing for which I wish to live,
_How delightfully do you punish my seeming Neglect! I acknowledge I
have not sent to you 'till now, but it was because it was utterly
impossible, my Father continually keeping so strict a Guard over me
himself, that not even +Mercury+ could evade or illude his
Vigilance. Alas! my Soul, he is now no Stranger to my Passion for
you, which he pretends, at least, is highly offensive to him, for
what Reasons I blush to think. But what signifies an Offence to him
of so generous a Nature as my Love! I am assured I was born for you,
or none other of your fair Sex, though attended with all the
Advantages of Birth and Fortune. I will therefore proceed in this
Affair, as if we were already united by the outward Ceremonies of
the Church, and forsake him and all the World for you, my better
Part! Be certain, therefore, that to-Morrow Night, e'er you sleep,
you shall see (my Life, my Soul, my All)_
Your most sincere, and
Most passionate Lover,
_Hardyman_.
This, with the Letter to his Sister, he convey'd into the Servant's Hand
that came from 'em, undiscover'd of his Father; who likewise dismiss'd
the Messenger with his grave Epistle, full of musty Morals, to the two
young gay Ladies. But he had an unlucky Thought, that he was overseen in
giving his Son the Opportunity of retiring from him, whilst he was
writing to his Daughter and t'other fair Creature, having a Jealousy
that young _Hardyman_ might have made Use of that very Article of Time
to the same End. This made him very uneasy and restless. On t'other
Side, the young Gentleman though he was extreamly satisfy'd with those
endearing Expressions of Love which he found in _Diana's_ Letter, yet he
was all on Fire with the Apprehension of a Rival, and the Desire to see
him, that he might dispute with him for the glorious Prize.
The next Day, at Four in the Afternoon, they went to Bowls about a Mile
off; where, after several Ends, the Knight and his Party lay all nearest
about the Jack for the Game, 'till young _Hardyman_ put in a bold Cast,
that beat all his Adversaries from the Block, and carry'd two of his
Seconds close to it, his own Bowl lying partly upon it, which made them
up. Ha! (cry'd a young Gentleman of his Side) bravely done, _Miles_,
thou hast carry'd the Day, and kiss'd the Mistress. I hope I shall
before 'tis dark yet, (return'd he.) Sir _Henry_ overhearing him, said,
(his Face all glowing red with Passion) How dare you, Sir, express your
self so freely in my Hearing? There, (persu'd he, and struck him a Blow
on the Ear) I first salute you thus: Do you know where you are, and who
I am? Yes, you are my Father, Sir, (reply'd young _Hardyman_, bowing.)
If you see her to Night, (said the passionate Father) resolve to see me
no more. By Heaven, and all my Hopes, no more I will, after this Minute,
(return'd the Son, being retreated some Distance from him, out of his
Hearing.) So taking his Leave of the Company, with the usual Ceremony,
he went directly Home, where immediately he order'd his Servant
_Goodlad_ to saddle their Horses, whilst he himself went up to his
Chamber, and took all the Rings and Jewels that his Mother had left him,
and the Money that he had then in his Possession, which altogether
amounted to near twelve hundred Pounds; and packing up some Linnen in
his Portmanteau, he quickly mounted with his Servant, and made his Way
towards the Lady _Constance's_.
'Twas near seven a Clock e'er they got within Sight of his Mistress's,
when our Lover perceiv'd a Gentleman and his Servant mounted at some
Distance on t'other Side of the House, as coming from _London_: This
unfortunately happen'd to be _Lewis Constance_, just return'd from his
Travels, whom young _Hardyman_ had never seen before, and therefore
could not know him at that Time: Observing therefore that they made to
the same Place for which he was design'd, he halted a little, taking
Covert under a large Elm-Tree, within a hundred Paces of the House,
where he had the unlucky Opportunity to see his Mistress and Sister come
out; whom _Lewis_ perceiving at the same Time, alighted, and ran eagerly
to embrace her, who receiv'd him with Arms expanded, crying, O my Dear,
dearest Brother; but that last Word was stifled with Kisses. Do I once
more hold thee in my Arms! O come in, and let me give my Joys a Loose!
I am surpriz'd, and rave with extream Hapiness! O! thou art all to me
that is valuable on Earth! (return'd he.) At these Words she, in a
Manner, hal'd him in. This Sight was certainly the greatest
Mortification to her Lover that ever Man surviv'd! He presently and
positively concluded it could be none but that Rival, of whom his Sister
had given him Advice in her Letter. What to do he could by no Means
determine; sometimes he was for going in, and affronting him before his
Mistress; a second Thought advis'd him to expect his coming out near
that Place; upon another Consideration he was going to send him a
Challenge, but by whom he knew not, for his Servant was as well known
there as himself. At last he resolv'd to ride farther out of the Road,
to see for some convenient Retreat that Night, where he might be
undiscover'd: Such a Place he found about two Miles thence, at a good
substantial Farmer's, who made him heartily welcome that Night, with the
best Beer he had in his Cellar, so that he slept much better than he
could have expected his Jealousy would have permitted: But the Morning
renew'd and redoubled his Torture: But this jolly Landlord, hugely
pleas'd with his good Company the Night past, visited him as he got out
of his Bed, which was near two Hours after he wak'd; in which Time he
had laid his Design how to proceed, in order to take Satisfaction of
this Rival. He suffer'd himself, therefore, to be manag'd by the good
Man of the House, who wou'd fain have made a Conquest of him; but he
found that the young Gentleman could bear as much in his Head as he
could on his Shoulders, which gave _Hardyman_ the Opportunity of keeping
a Stowage yet for a good Dinner: After which they fell to bumping it
about, 'till the Farmer fell asleep; when young _Hardyman_ retir'd into
his Chamber, where, after a Turn or two, he writ as follows to his
Mistress's Brother, whose Name he knew not; and therefore the Billet is
not superscrib'd.
_SIR,_
_You have done me an unpardonable Injury; and if you are a
Gentleman, as you seem, you will give me Satisfaction within this
Hour at the Place whither this Messenger shall lead you. Bring
nothing with you but your Sword and your Servant, as I with mine,
to take Care of him that falls.--'Till I see you, I am your
Servant, &c._
An Hour before Supper, his kind Host wak'd, and they eat heartily
together that Night, but did not drink so plentifully as they had since
their first Meeting; young _Hardyman_ telling him, that he was oblig'd
to be mounted at the fore-mention'd Morning, in order to persue his
Journey; and that, in the mean Time, he desir'd the Favour of him to let
one of his Servants carry a Letter from him, to one that was then at the
young Lady _Constance's_: To which t'other readily agreed. The young
Gentleman then made him a Present of a Tobacco-Box, with the Head of
King _Charles_ the First on the Lid, and his Arms on the Bottom in
Silver; which was very acceptable to him, for he was a great Loyalist,
tho' it was in the Height of _Oliver's Usurpation_. About four a-Clock
in the Morning, as our jealous Lover had order'd him, one of the
Servants came to him for the Letter; with which he receiv'd these
Instructions, that he should deliver that Note into the Gentleman's own
Hand, who came to the Lady _Constance's_ the Night before the last. That
he should shew that Gentleman to the Field where young _Hardyman_,
should deliver the Note to the Servant, which was just a Mile from
either House; or that he should bring an Answer to the Note from that
Gentleman. The Fellow was a good Scholar, tho' he could neither read nor
write. For he learn'd his Lesson perfectly well, and repeated it
punctually to _Lewis Constance_; who was strangely surpriz'd at what he
found in the Billet. He ask'd the Messenger if he knew his Name that
sent it; or if he were a Gentleman? Nay (Mass, quoth the Fellow)
I warrant he's a Gentleman; for he has given me nine good Shillings
here, for coming but hither to you; but for his Name, you may e'en name
it as well as I--He has got one to wait a top of him almost as fine as
himself, zure. The surpriz'd Traveller jump'd out of his Bed, slipt on
his Gown, and call'd up his Servant: Thence he went to his Sister's
Chamber, with whom _Lucretia_ lay: They both happen'd to be awake, and
talking, as he came to the Door, which his Sister permitted him to
unlock, and ask'd him the Reason of his so early Rising? Who reply'd,
That since he could not sleep, he would take the Air a little. But
first, Sister (continu'd he) I will refresh my self at your Lips: And
now, Madam, (added he to _Lucretia_) I would beg a Cordial from you. For
that (said his Sister) you shall be oblig'd to me this once; saying so,
she gently turn'd _Lucretia's_ Face towards him, and he had his Wish.
Ten to one, but he had rather continu'd with _Lucretia_, than have gone
to her Brother, had he known him; for he lov'd her truly and
passionately: But being a Man of true Courage and Honour, he took his
Leave of 'em, presently dress'd, and tripp'd away with the Messenger,
who made more than ordinary Haste, because of his Success, which was
rewarded with another piece of Money; and he danc'd Home to the Sound of
the Money in his Pocket.
No sooner was the Fellow out of Hearing, than _Lewis_, coming up to his
Adversary, shew'd him the Billet, and said, Sent you this to me, Sir?
I did, Sir, reply'd _Hardyman_: I never saw you 'till now, return'd
_Lewis_; how then could I injure you? 'Tis enough that I know it,
answer'd _Miles_. But to satisfy you, you shall know that I am sensible
that you pretend to a fair Lady, to whom I have an elder Title. In
short, you entrench on my Prerogative. I own no Subjection to you,
(return'd _Constance_) and my Title is as good as your Prerogative,
which I will maintain as I can hold this, (continu'd he, and drew his
Sword) Hah! Nobly done! (cry'd _Hardyman_ drawing) I could almost wish
thou wert my Friend: You speak generously, return'd _Lewis_, I find I
have to do with a Gentleman. Retire to a convenient Distance, said
_Hardyman_ to _Goodlad_. If you come near while we are disputing, my
Sword shall thank you for't; and you, Sir, retire! said _Constance_ to
his Servant. And if you will keep your Life, keep your Distance! O my
brave Enemy! (cry'd _Miles_) Give me thy Hand! Here they shook Hands,
and gave one another the Compliment of the Hat, and then (said
_Hardyman_) Come on, Sir! I am with you, Sir, (reply'd _Lewis_ standing
on his Guard) they were both equally knowing in the Use of their Swords;
so that they fought for some few Minutes without any Wound receiv'd on
either Side. But, at last, _Miles_ being taller and much stronger than
his Adversary, resolv'd to close with him; which he did, putting by a
Pass that _Lewis_ made at him with his left Hand, and at the same Time
he run him quite thro' the Body, threw him, and disarm'd him. Rise if
thou can'st! (cry'd _Hardyman_) thou art really brave. I will not put
thee to the Shame of asking thy Life. Alas! I cannot rise, (reply'd
_Lewis_, endeavouring to get up) so short a Life as mine were not worth
the Breath of a Coward.--Make Haste! Fly hence! For thou are lost if
thou stay'st. My Friends are many and great; they will murther thee by
Law. Fly! Fly in Time! Heaven forgive us both! Amen! (Cry'd _Miles_) I
hope thou may'st recover! 'Tis Pity so much Bravery and Honour should be
lost so early. Farewel.--And now Adieu to the fair and faithless
_Diana_! Ha! (Cry'd _Constance_) O bloody Mistake! But could speak no
more for Loss of Blood. _Hardyman_ heard not those last Words, being
spoken with a fainting Voice, but in Haste mounted, and rode with all
Speed for _London_, attended by _Goodlad_; whilst _Constance's_ Servant
came up to him, and having all along travell'd with him, had two or
three Times the Occasion of making Use of that Skill in Surgery which he
had learn'd Abroad in _France_ and _Italy_, which he now again practis'd
on his Master, with such Success, that in less than half an Hour, he put
his Master in a Capacity of leaning on him; and so walking Home with
him, tho' very gently and slowly. By the Way, _Lewis_ charg'd his
Servant not to say which Way _Hardyman_ took, unless he design'd to quit
his Service for ever. But pardon me, Sir! (return'd t'other) your Wound
is very dangerous, and I am not sure that it is not mortal: And if so,
give me Leave to say, I shall persue him over all _England_, for
Vengeance of your Death. 'Twas a Mistake on both Sides, I find; (said
_Lewis_) therefore think not of Revenge: I was as hot and as much to
blame as he. They were near an Hour getting to the House, after his
Blood was stopp'd. As he was led in, designing to be carry'd to his
Chamber, and to take his Bed as sick of an Ague, his Sister and
_Lucretia_ met him, and both swoon'd away at the Sight of him; but in a
little Time they were recover'd, as if to torment him with their Tears,
Sighs, and Lamentations. They ask'd him a thousand impertinent
Questions, which he defer'd to answer, 'till he was laid in Bed; when he
told his Sister, that the Gentleman who had thus treated him, bid her
Adieu, by the Epithet of Fair and Faithless. For Heaven's Sake, (cry'd
_Diana_) what Manner of Man was he? Very tall and well set, (reply'd her
Brother) of an austere Aspect, but a well-favour'd Face, and
prodigiously strong. Had he a Servant with him, Sir? (ask'd _Lucretia_)
Yes, Madam (answer'd her Lover) and describ'd her Servant. Ah! my
Prophetic Fears (cry'd she) It was my Brother, attended by _Goodlad_.
Your Brother! Dearest and Fairest of your Sex, (said _Lewis_) Heaven
send him safely out of _England_ then! Nay, be he who he may, I wish the
same; for he is truly brave. Alas, my dear, my cruel _Hardyman_! (cry'd
_Diana_) Your _Hardyman_, Sister! (said _Lewis_) Ah! would he had been
so! You might then have had Hopes of an affectionate Brother's Life;
which yet I will endeavour to preserve, that by the Enjoyment of your
dear and nearest Conversation, Madam, (persu'd he to _Lucretia_) I may
be prepar'd to endure the only greater Joys of Heaven. But O! My Words
prey on my Spirits. And all the World, like a huge Ship at Anchor, turn
round with the ebbing Tide.--I can no more. At these Words both the
Ladies shriek'd aloud, which made him sigh, and move his Hand as well as
he could toward the Door; his Attendant perceiv'd it, and told 'em he
sign'd to them to quit the Room; as indeed it was necessary they should,
that he might repose a while if possible, at least that he might not be
oblig'd to talk, nor look much about him. They obey'd the Necessity, but
with some Reluctancy, and went into their own Chamber, where they
sigh'd, wept, and lamented their Misfortunes for near two Hours
together: When all on a suddain, the Aunt, who had her Share of Sorrow
too in this ugly Business, came running up to 'em, to let 'em know that
old Sir _Harry Hardyman_ was below, and came to carry his Daughter Madam
_Lucretia_ Home with him. This both surpriz'd and troubled the young
Ladies, who were yet more disturb'd, when the Aunt told them, that he
enquir'd for his Son, and would not be convinc'd by any Argument
whatever; no, nor Protestation in her Capacity, that young _Hardyman_
was not in the House, nor that he had not been entertain'd there ever
since he left his Father--But come, Cousin and Madam, (said she to the
young Ladies) go down to him immediately, or I fear he'll come up to
you. _Lucretia_ knew she must, and t'other would not be there alone: So
down they came to the Old testy Gentleman. Your Servant, Lady, (said he
to _Diana_) _Lucretia_ then kneel'd for his Blessing. Very well, very
well, (cry'd he hastily) God bless you! Where's your Brother? Ha!
Where's your Brother? I know not, Sir, (she answer'd) I have not seen
him since I have been here. No, (said he) not since you have been in
this Parlour last, you mean. I mean, Sir, (she return'd) upon my Hopes
of yours and Heaven's Blessing, I have not seen him since I saw you,
Sir, within a Mile of our own House. Ha! _Lucretia_, Ha! (cry'd the old
Infidel) have a Care you pull not mine and Heaven's Curse on your Head!
Believe me, Sir, (said _Diana_) to my Knowledge, she has not. Why, Lady,
(ask'd the passionate Knight) are you so curious and fond of him your
self, that you will allow no Body else the Sight of him? Not so much as
his own Sister? I don't understand you, Sir, (she reply'd) for, by my
Hopes of Heaven, I have not seen him neither since that Day I left you.
Hey! pass and repass, (cry'd the old suspicious Father) _presto_, be
gone!--This is all Conjuration. 'Tis diabolical, dealing with the Devil!
In Lies, I mean, on one Side or other; for he told me to my Teeth, at
least, he said in my Hearing, on the Bowling-Green, but two Nights
since, that he hop'd to see your Ladyship (for I suppose you are his
Mistress) that Night e're 'twas dark: Upon which I gave him only a kind
and fatherly Memorandum of his Duty, and he immediately left the Company
and me, who have not set Eye on him, nor heard one Syllable of him
since.--Now, judge you, Lady, if I have not Reason to conclude that he
has been and is above still! No, (said the Aunt) you have no Reason to
conclude so, when they both have told you solemnly the contrary; and
when I can add, that I will take a formal Oath, if requir'd, that he has
not been in this House since my Cousin _Lewis_ went to travel, nor
before, to the best of my Memory; and I am confident, neither my Cousin
_Diana_, nor the Lady your Daughter, have seen him since they left him
with you, Sir--I wish, indeed, my dear Cousin _Lewis_ had not seen him
since. How! What's that you say, good Lady? (ask'd the Knight) Is Mr.
_Lewis Constance_ then in _England_? And do you think that he has seen
him so lately? for your Discourse seems to imply as much. Sir _Henry_,
(reply'd the Aunt) you are very big with Questions, but I will endeavour
to satisfy you in all of 'em.--My Cousin _Lewis Constance_ is in
_England_; nay, more, he is now in his Chamber a-Bed, and dangerously,
if not mortally, wounded, by 'Squire _Miles Hardyman_, your Son. Heaven
forbid, (cry'd the Father) sure 'tis impossible. All Things are so to
the Incredulous. Look you, Sir, (continu'd she, seeing _Lewis's_ Servant
come in) do you remember his _French_ Servant _Albert_, whom he took
some Months before he left _England_?--There he is. Humh! (said the old
Sceptic) I think verily 'tis the same. Ay, Sir, (said the Servant) I am
the same, at your Service. How does your Master? (ask'd Sir _Henry_)
Almost as bad as when the 'Squire your Son left him, (reply'd _Albert_)
only I have stopp'd the Bleeding, and he is now dozing a little; to say
the Truth, I have only Hopes of his Life because I wish it. When was
this done? (the Knight inquir'd) Not three Hours since, (return'd
t'other.) What was the Occasion? (said Sir _Henry_) An ugly Mistake on
both Sides; your Son, as I understand, not knowing my Master, took him
for his Rival, and bad him quit his Pretensions to the fair Lady, for
whom he had a Passion: My Master thought he meant the Lady _Lucretia_,
your Daughter, Sir, with whom I find he is passionately in
Love,--and--Very well--so--go on! (interrupted the Knight with a
Sigh)--and was resolv'd to dispute his Title with him; which he did; but
the 'Squire is as strong as the Horse he rides on!--And! 'tis a
desperate Wound!--Which Way is he gone, canst thou tell? (ask'd the
Father) Yes, I can; but I must not, 'tis as much as my Place is worth.
My Master would not have him taken for all the World; nay, I must needs
own he is a very brave Person. But you may let me know; (said the
Father) you may be confident I will not expose him to the Law: Besides,
if it please Heaven that your Master recovers, there will be no
Necessity of a Prosecution.--Prithee let me know! You'll pardon me, Sir,
(said _Lewis's_ trusty Servant) my Master, perhaps, may give you that
Satisfaction; and I'll give you Notice, Sir--when you may conveniently
discourse him.--Your humble Servant, Sir, (he added, bowing, and went
out.) The old Gentleman was strangely mortify'd at this News of his Son;
and his Absence perplex'd him more than any thing besides in the
Relation. He walk'd wildly up and down the Room, sighing, foaming, and
rolling his Eyes in a dreadful Manner; and at the Noise of any Horse on
the Road, out he would start as nimbly as if he were as youthful as his
Son, whom he sought in vain among those Passengers. Then returning, he
cry'd out to her, O _Lucretia_! Your Brother! Where's your Brother?--O
my Son! the Delight, Comfort, and Pride of my Old Age! Why dost thou fly
me? Then answering as for young _Hardyman_, (said he) you struck me
publickly before much Company, in the Face of my Companions.--Come,
(reply'd he for himself) 'Twas Passion, _Miles_, 'twas Passion; Youth is
guilty of many Errors, and shall not Age be allow'd their Infirmities?
_Miles_, thou know'st I love thee.--Love thee above Riches or long
Life.--O! Come to my Arms, dear Fugitive, and make Haste to preserve
his, who gave thee thy Life!--Thus he went raving about the Room, whilst
the sorrowful, compassionate Ladies express'd their Grief in Tears.
After this loving Fit was over with him, he would start out in a
contrary Madness, and threaten his Son with the greatest and the
heaviest Punishment he could imagine; insomuch, that the young Ladies,
who had Thoughts before of perswading _Lewis_ to inform Sir _Harry_
which Way his Son rode, were now afraid of proposing any such Thing to
him. Dinner was at last serv'd in, to which _Diana_ with much Difficulty
prevail'd with him to sit. Indeed, neither he, nor any there present,
had any great Appetite to eat; their Grief had more than satiated 'em.
About five a-Clock, _Albert_ signify'd to the Knight, that he might then
most conveniently speak with his Master; but he begg'd that he would not
disturb him beyond half a Quarter of an Hour: He went up therefore to
him, follow'd by the young Lady and the Aunt: _Lewis_ was the first that
spoke, who, putting his Hand a little out of the Bed, said with a Sigh,
Sir _Henry_, I hope you will pity a great Misfortune, and endeavour to
pardon me, who was the greatest Occasion of it; which has doubly
punish'd me in these Wounds, and in the Loss of that Gentleman's
Conversation, whose only Friendship I would have courted. Heaven pardon
you both the Injuries done to one another; (return'd the Knight)
I grieve to see you thus, and the more, when I remember my self that
'twas done by my Son's unlucky Hand. Would he were here.--So would not I
(said _Lewis_) 'till I am assur'd my Wound is not mortal, which I have
some Reasons to believe it is not. Let me beg one Favour of you, Sir,
(said Sir _Henry_) I beseech you do not deny me. It must be a very
difficult Matter that you, Sir, shall not command of me, (reply'd
_Constance_.) It can't be difficult to you to tell me, or to command
your Servant to let me know what Road my Son took. He may be at
_Bristol_ long e're this, (return'd _Lewis_.) That was the Road they
took (added the Servant.) I thank you, my worthy, my kind Friend! (said
the afflicted Father) I will study to deserve this Kindness of you. How
do you find your self now? that I may send him an Account by my Servant,
if he is to be found in that City? Pretty hearty, (return'd _Lewis_) if
the Wounds your adorable Daughter here has given me, do not prove more
fatal than my Friend's your Son's. She blush'd, and he persu'd, My
Servant has sent for the best Physician and Surgeon in all these Parts;
I expect them every Minute, and then I shall be rightly inform'd in the
State of my Body. I will defer my Messenger 'till then (said Sir
_Henry_.) I will leave that to your Discretion, Sir, (return'd
_Constance_.) As they were discoursing of 'em, in came the learned Sons
of Art: The Surgeon prob'd his Wound afresh, which he found very large,
but not mortal, his Loss of Blood being the most dangerous of all his
Circumstances. The Country-_AEsculapius_ approv'd of his first Intention,
and of his Application; so dressing it once himself, he left the Cure of
Health to the Physician, who prescrib'd some particular Remedy against
Fevers, and a Cordial or two; took his Fee without any Scruples, as the
Surgeon had done before, and then took both their Leaves. Sir _Henry_
was as joyful as _Lewis's_ Sister, or as his own Daughter _Lucretia_,
who lov'd him perfectly, to hear the Wound was not mortal; and
immediately dispatch'd a Man and Horse to _Bristol_, in Search of his
Son: The Messenger return'd in a short Time with this Account only, that
such a kind of a Gentleman and his Servant took Shipping the Day before,
as 'twas suppos'd, for _London_. This put the old Gentleman into a
perfect Frenzy. He ask'd the Fellow, Why the Devil he did not give his
Son the Letter he sent to him? Why he did not tell him, that his poor
old forsaken Father would receive him with all the Tenderness of an
indulgent Parent? And why he did not assure his Son, from him, that on
his Return, he should be bless'd with the Lady _Diana_? And a thousand
other extravagant Questions, which no body could reply to any better
than the Messenger, who told him, trembling; First, That he could not
deliver the Letter to his Son, because he could not find him: And
Secondly and Lastly, being an Answer in full to all his Demands, That he
could not, nor durst tell the young Gentleman any of those kind Things,
since he had no Order to do so; nor could he enter into his Worship's
Heart, to know his Thoughts: Which Return, tho' it was reasonable
enough, and might have been satisfactory to any other Man in better
Circumstances of Mind; so enrag'd Sir _Henry_, that he had certainly
kill'd the poor Slave, had not the Fellow sav'd his Life by jumping down
almost half the Stairs, and continuing his Flight, Sir _Henry_ still
persuing him, 'till he came to the Stables, where finding the Door open,
Sir _Henry_ ran in and saddl'd his Horse his own self, without staying
for any Attendant, or so much as taking his Leave of the Wounded
Gentleman, or Ladies, or giving Orders to his Daughter when she should
follow him Home, whither he was posting alone; but the Servant who came
out with him, accidentally seeing him as he rode out at the farthest
Gate, so timely persu'd him, that he overtook him about a Mile and half
off the House. Home they got then in less than three Hours Time, without
one Word or Syllable all the Way on either Side, unless now and then a
hearty Sigh or Groan from the afflicted Father, whose Passion was so
violent, and had so disorder'd him, that he was constrain'd immediately
to go to Bed, where he was seiz'd with a dangerous Fever, which was
attended with a strange _Delirium_, or rather with an absolute Madness,
of which the Lady _Lucretia_ had Advice that same Night, tho' very late.
This News so surpriz'd and afflicted her, as well for the Danger of her
Lover as of her Father, that it threw her into a Swoon; out of which,
when, with some Difficulty she was recover'd, with great Perplexity and
Anguish of Mind she took a sad Farewel of the Lady _Diana_, but durst
not be seen by her Brother on such an Occasion, as of taking Leave, lest
it should retard his Recovery: To her Father's then she was convey'd
with all convenient Expedition: The old Gentleman was so assiduously and
lawfully attended by his fair affectionate Daughter, that in less than
ten Days Time his Fever was much abated, and his _Delirium_ had quite
left him, and he knew every Body about him perfectly; only the Thoughts
of his Son, by Fits, would choak and discompose him: However, he was
very sensible of his Daughter's Piety in her Care of him, which was no
little Comfort to him: Nor, indeed, could he be otherwise than sensible
of it by her Looks, which were then pale and thin, by over-watching;
which occasion'd her Sickness, as it caus'd her Father's Health: For no
sooner could Sir _Henry_ walk about the Room, than she was forc'd to
keep her Bed; being afflicted with the same Distemper from which her
Father was yet but hardly freed: Her Fever was high, but the _Delirium_
was not so great: In which, yet, she should often discover her Passion
for _Lewis Constance_, her wounded Lover; lamenting the great Danger his
Life had been in, as if she had not receiv'd daily Letters of his
Amendment. Then again, she would complain of her Brother's Absence, but
more frequently of her Lover's; which her Father hearing, sent to invite
him to come to her, with his Sister, as soon as young _Constance_ was
able to undertake the Journey; which he did the very next Day; and he
and _Diana_ gave the languishing Lady a Visit in her Chamber, just in
the happy Time of an Interval, which, 'tis suppos'd, was the sole Cause
of her Recovery; for the Sight of her Lover and Friend was better than
the richest Cordial in her Distemper. In a very short Time she left her
Bed, when Sir _Henry_, to give her perfect Health, himself join'd the
two Lovers Hands; and not many Weeks after, when her Beauty and Strength
return'd in their wonted Vigour, he gave her 10000_l._ and his Blessing,
which was a double Portion, on their Wedding-Day, which he celebrated
with all the Cost and Mirth that his Estate and Sorrow would permit:
Sorrow for the Loss of his Son, I mean, which still hung upon him, and
still hover'd and croak'd over and about him, as Ravens, and other Birds
of Prey, about Camps and dying People. His Melancholy, in few Months,
increas'd to that Degree, that all Company and Conversation was odious
to him, but that of Bats, Owls, Night-Ravens, _&c._ Nay, even his
Daughter, his dear and only Child, as he imagin'd, was industriously
avoided by him. In short, it got so intire a Mastery of him, that he
would not nor did receive any Sustenance for many Days together; and at
last it confin'd him to his Bed; where he lay wilfully speechless for
two Days and Nights; his Son-in-Law, or his own Daughter, still
attending a-Nights by Turns; when on the third Night, his _Lucretia_
sitting close by him in Tears, he fetch'd a deep Sigh, which ended in a
pitious Groan, and call'd faintly, _Lucretia! Lucretia!_ The Lady being
then almost as melancholy as her Father, did not hear him 'till the
third Call; when falling on her Knees, and embracing his Hand, which he
held out to her, she return'd with Tears then gushing out, Yes, Sir, it
is I, your _Lucretia_, your dutiful, obedient, and affectionate
_Lucretia_, and most sorrowfully-afflicted Daughter. Bless her, Heaven!
(said the Father) I'm going now, (continu'd he weakly) O _Miles_! yet
come and take thy last Farewel of thy dear Father! Art thou for ever
gone from me? Wilt thou not come and take thy dying Father's Blessing?
Then I will send it after thee. Bless him! O Heaven! Bless him! Sweet
Heaven bless my Son! My _Miles_! Here he began to faulter in his Speech,
when the Lady gave a great Shriek, which wak'd and alarm'd her Husband,
who ran down to 'em in his Night-Gown, and, kneeling by the Bed-side
with his Lady, begg'd their departing Father's Blessing on them. The
Shriek had (it seems) recall'd the dying Gentleman's fleeting Spirits,
who moving his Hand as well as he could, with Eyes lifted up, as it
were, whisper'd, Heaven bless you both! Bless me! Bless my--O _Miles_!
Then dy'd. His Death (no Doubt) was attended with the Sighs, Tears, and
unfeign'd Lamentations of the Lady and her Husband; for, bating his
sudden Passion, he was certainly as good a Father, Friend, and
Neighbour, as _England_ could boast. His Funeral was celebrated then
with all the Ceremonies due to his Quality and Estate: And the young
happy Couple felt their dying Parent's Blessing in their mutual Love and
uninterrupted Tranquillity: Whilst (alas) it yet far'd otherwise with
their Brother; of whose Fortune it is fit I should now give you an
Account.
From _Bristol_ he arriv'd to _London_ with his Servant _Goodlad_; to
whom he propos'd, either that he should return to Sir _Henry_, or share
in his Fortunes Abroad: The faithful Servant told him, he would rather
be unhappy in his Service, than quit it for a large Estate. To which his
kind Master return'd, (embracing him) No more my Servant now, but my
Friend! No more _Goodlad_, but _Truelove_! And I am--_Lostall_! 'Tis a
very proper Name, suitable to my wretched Circumstances. So after some
farther Discourse on their Design, they sold their Horses, took
Shipping, and went for _Germany_, where then was the Seat of War.
_Miles's_ Person and Address soon recommended him to the chief Officers
in the Army; and his Friend _Truelove_ was very well accepted with 'em.
They both then mounted in the same Regiment and Company, as Volunteers;
and in the first Battel behav'd themselves like brave _English_-men;
especially _Miles_, whom now we must call Mr. _Lostall_, who signaliz'd
himself that Day so much, that his Captain and Lieutenant being kill'd,
he succeeded to the former in the Command of the Company, and _Truelove_
was made his Lieutenant. The next Field-Fight _Truelove_ was kill'd, and
_Lostall_ much wounded, after he had sufficiently reveng'd his Friend's
Death by the Slaughter of many of the Enemies. Here it was that his
Bravery was so particular, that he was courted by the Lieutenant-General
to accept of the Command of a Troop of Horse; which gave him fresh and
continu'd Occasions of manifesting his Courage and Conduct. All this
while he liv'd too generously for his Pay; so that in the three or four
Years Time, the War ceasing, he was oblig'd to make use of what Jewels
and Money he had left of his own, for his Pay was quite spent. But at
last his whole Fund being exhausted to about fifty or threescore Pounds,
he began to have Thoughts of returning to his native Country, _England_;
which in a few Weeks he did, and appear'd at the _Tower_ to some of his
Majesty's (King _Charles_ the Second's) Officers, in a very plain and
coarse, but clean and decent Habit: To one of these Officers he
address'd himself, and desir'd to mount his Guards under his Command,
and in his Company; who very readily receiv'd him into Pay. (The Royal
Family had not then been restor'd much above a Twelve-Month.) In this
Post, his Behaviour was such, that he was generally belov'd both by the
Officers and private Soldiers, most punctually and exactly doing his
Duty; and when he was off the Guard, he would employ himself in any
laborious Way whatsoever to get a little Money. And it happen'd, that
one Afternoon, as he was helping to clean the _Tower_ Ditch, (for he
refus'd not to do the meanest Office, in Hopes to expiate his Crime by
such voluntary Penances) a Gentleman, very richly dress'd, coming that
Way, saw him at Work; and taking particular Notice of him, thought he
should know that Face of his, though some of the Lines had been struck
out by a Scar or two: And regarding him more earnestly, he was at last
fully confirm'd, that he was the Man he thought him; which made him say
to the Soldier, Prithee, Friend, What art thou doing there? The unhappy
Gentleman return'd, in his Country Dialect, Why, Master, Cham helping to
clear the _Tower_ Ditch, zure, an't please you. 'Tis very hot, (said
t'other) Art thou not a dry? Could'st thou not drink? Ay, Master,
reply'd the Soldier, with all my Heart. Well, (said the Gentleman) I'll
give thee a Flaggon or two; Where is the best Drink? At yonder House,
Master, (answer'd the Soldier) where you see yon Soldier at the Door,
there be the best Drink and the best Measure, zure: Chil woit a top o
your Worship az Zoon as you be got thare. I'll take thy Word, said
t'other, and went directly to the Place; where he had hardly sate down,
and call'd for some Drink, e'er the Soldier came in, to whom the
Gentleman gave one Pot, and drank to him out of another. _Lostall_, that
was the Soldier, whipp'd off his Flaggon, and said, bowing, Well,
Master, God bless your Worship! Ich can but love and thank you, and was
going; but the Gentleman, who had farther Business with him, with some
Difficulty prevail'd on him to sit down, for a Minute or two, after the
Soldier had urg'd that he must mind his Business, for he had yet half a
Day's Work almost to complete, and he would not wrong any Body of a
Quarter of an Hour's Labour for all the World. Th'art a very honest
Fellow, I believe, said his Friend; but prithee what does thy whole
Day's Work come to? Eighteen-pence, reply'd _Lostall_: Look, there 'tis
for thee, said the Gentleman. Ay; but an't like your Worship, who must
make an End of my Day's Business? (the Soldier ask'd.) Get any Body else
to do it for thee, and I'll pay him. Can'st prevail with one of thy
Fellow-Soldiers to be so kind? Yes, Master, thank God, cham not so ill
belov'd nother. Here's honest _Frank_ will do so much vor me, Zure: Wilt
not, _Frank_? (withal my Heart, _Tom_, reply'd his Comrade.) Here,
Friend, (said _Lostall's_ new Acquaintance) here's Eighteen-pence for
thee too. I thank your Honour, return'd the Soldier, but should have but
Nine-pence. No Matter what thou should'st have, I'll give thee no less,
said the strange Gentleman. Heavens bless your Honour! (cry'd the
Soldier) and after he had swigg'd off a Pot of good Drink, took
_Lostall's_ Pick-ax and Spade, and went about his Business. Now (said
the Stranger) let us go and take a Glass of Wine, if there be any that
is good hereabouts, for I fancy thou'rt a mighty honest Fellow; and I
like thy Company mainly. Cham very much bound to behold you, Master,
(return'd _Lostall_) and chave a Fancy that you be and a
_West_-Country-Man, zure; (added he) you do a take zo like en; vor
_Mainly_ be our Country Word, zure. We'll talk more of that by and by,
said t'other: Mean while I'll discharge the House, and walk whither thou
wilt lead me. That shan't be var, zure; (return'd _Lostall_) vor the
_Gun_ upon the Hill there, has the best Report for Wine and Zeck Ale
hereabouts. There they arriv'd then in a little Time, got a Room to
themselves, and had better Wine than the Gentleman expected. After a
Glass or two a-piece, his unknown Friend ask'd _Lostall_ what
Country-Man he was? To whom the Soldier reply'd, That he was a
_Zomerzetshire_ Man, zure. Did'st thou never hear then of one Sir _Henry
Hardyman_? (the Stranger ask'd.) Hier of'n! (cry'd t'other) yes, zure;
chave a zeen 'en often. Ah! Zure my Mother and I have had many a
zwindging Pitcher of good Drink, and many a good Piece of Meat at his
House. Humh! (cry'd the Gentleman) It seems your Mother and you knew
him, then? Ay, zure, mainly well; ich mean, by zight, mainly well, by
zight. They had a great deal of farther Discourse, which lasted near two
Hours; in which Time the Gentleman had the Opportunity to be fully
assur'd, that this was _Miles Hardyman_, for whom he took him at first.
At that first Conference, _Miles_ told him his Name was honest _Tom
Lostall_; and that he had been a Souldier about five Years; having first
obtain'd the Dignity of a Serjeant, and afterward had the Honour to be a
Trooper, which was the greatest Post of Honour that he could boast of.
At last, his new Friend ask'd _Miles_, if he should see him there at
Three in the Afternoon the next Day? _Miles_ return'd, That he should be
at his Post upon Duty then; and that without Leave from his Lieutenant,
who then would command the Guards at the _Tower_, he could not stir a
Foot with him. His Friend return'd, That he would endeavour to get Leave
for him for an Hour or two: After which they drank off their Wine; the
Gentleman pay'd the Reckoning, and gave _Miles_ a Broad piece to drink
more Wine 'till he came, if he pleas'd, and then parted 'till the next
Day. When his Friend was gone, _Miles_ had the Opportunity of reflecting
on that Day's Adventure. He thought he had seen the Gentleman's Face,
and heard his Voice, but where, and upon what Occasion, he could not
imagine; but he was in Hopes, that on a second Interview, he might
recollect himself where it was he had seen him. 'Twas exactly Three
a-Clock the next Afternoon, when his Friend came in his own
Mourning-Coach, accompany'd by another, who look'd like a Gentleman,
though he wore no Sword. His Friend was attended by two of his own
Foot-men in black Liveries. _Miles_ was at his Post, when his Friend
ask'd where the Officer of the Guard was? The Soldier reply'd, That he
was at the _Gun_. The Gentleman went directly to the Lieutenant, and
desir'd the Liberty of an Hour or two for _Miles_, then _Tom Lostall_,
to take a Glass of Wine with him: The Lieutenant return'd, That he might
keep him a Week or two, if he pleas'd, and he would excuse him; for
(added he) there is not a more obedient nor better Soldier than _Tom_
was in the whole Regiment; and that he believ'd he was as brave as
obedient. The Gentleman reply'd, That he was very happy to hear so good
a Character of him; and having obtain'd Leave for his Friend, made his
Compliment, and return'd, to take _Miles_ along with him: When he came
to the trusty Centinel, he commanded the Boot to be let down, and
desir'd _Miles_ to come into the Coach, telling him, That the Officer
had given him Leave. Ah! Sir, (return'd _Miles_) altho' he has,
I cannot, nor will quit my Post, 'till I am reliev'd by a Corporal; on
which, without any more Words, the Gentleman once more went to the
Lieutenant, and told him what the Soldier's Answer was. The Officer
smil'd, and reply'd, That he had forgot to send a Corporal with him,
e'er he was got out o' Sight, and begg'd the Gentleman's Pardon that he
had given him a second Trouble. Then immediately calling for a Corporal,
he dispatch'd him with the Gentleman to relieve _Miles_, who then, with
some little Difficulty, was prevail'd on to step into the Coach, which
carry'd 'em into some Tavern or other in _Leadenhall-street_; where,
after a Bottle or two, his Friend told _Miles_, that the Gentleman who
came with him in the Coach, had some Business with him in another Room.
_Miles_ was surpriz'd at that, and look'd earnestly on his Friend's
Companion; and seeing he had no Sword, pull'd off his own, and walk'd
with him into the next Room; where he ask'd the Stranger, What Business
he had with him? To which the other reply'd, That he must take Measure
of him. How! (cry'd _Miles_) take Measure of me? That need not be; for I
can tell how tall I am. I am (continu'd he) six Foot and two Inches
high. I believe as much (said t'other.) But, Sir, I am a Taylor, and
must take Measure of you to make a Suit of Cloaths or two for you; or
half a Dozen, if you please. Pray, good Mr. Taylor (said _Miles_) don't
mock me; for tho' cham a poor Fellow, yet cham no Vool zure. I don't,
indeed, Sir, reply'd t'other. Why, who shall pay for 'em? Your Friend,
the Gentleman in the next Room: I'll take his Word for a thousand
Pounds, and more; and he has already promis'd to be my Pay-Master for as
many Suits as you shall bespeak, and of what Price you please. Ah! mary,
(cry'd _Miles_) he is a Right Worshipful Gentleman; and ich caunt but
love 'n and thank 'n. The Taylor then took Measure of him, and they
return'd to the Gentleman; who, after a Bottle or two a-piece, ask'd
_Miles_ when he should mount the Guard next? _Miles_ told him four Days
thence, and he should be posted in the same Place, and that his Captain
would then command the Guard, who was a very noble Captain, and a good
Officer. His Friend, who then had no farther Business with _Miles_ at
that Time, once more parted with him, 'till Three a-Clock the next
Saturday; when he return'd, and ask'd if the Captain were at the _Gun_,
or no? _Miles_ assur'd him he was. His Friend then went down directly to
the Tavern, where he found the Captain, the Lieutenant, and Ensign; upon
his Address the Captain most readily gave his Consent that _Miles_ might
stay with him a Month, if he would; and added many Things in Praise of
his trusty and dutiful Soldier. The Gentleman then farther entreated,
that he might have the Liberty to give him and the other Officers a
Supper that Night; and that they would permit their poor Soldier, _Tom
Lostall_, the Honour to eat with 'em there. To the first, the Captain
and the rest seem'd something averse; but to the last they all readily
agreed; and at length the Gentleman's Importunity prevail'd on 'em to
accept his Kindness, he urging that it was in Acknowledgment of all
those Favours they had plac'd on his Friend _Tom_. With his pleasing
Success he came to _Miles_, not forgetting then to take a Corporal with
him. At this second Invitation into the Coach, _Miles_ did not use much
Ceremony, but stepp'd in, and would have sate over against the
Gentleman, by the Gentleman-Taylor; but his Friend oblig'd him to sit on
the same Seat with him. They came then again to their old Tavern in
_Leadenhall-street_, and were shew'd into a large Room; where they had
not been above six Minutes, e'er the Gentleman's Servants, and another,
who belong'd to Monsieur Taylor, brought two or three large Bags; out of
one they took Shirts, half Shirts, Bands, and Stockings; out of another,
a Mourning-Suit; out of a third, a Mourning Cloak, Hat, and a large
Hatband, with black Cloth-Shoes; and one of the Gentleman's Servants
laid down a Mourning Sword and Belt on the Table: _Miles_ was amaz'd at
the Sight of all these Things, and kept his Eyes fix'd on 'em, 'till his
Friend cry'd, Come, _Tom_! Put on your Linnen first! Here! (continu'd he
to his Servant) Bid 'em light some Faggots here! For, tho' 'tis Summer,
the Linnen may want Airing, and there may be some ugly cold Vapours
about the Room, which a good Fire will draw away. _Miles_ was still in a
Maze! But the Fire being well kindled, the Gentleman himself took a
Shirt, and air'd it; commanding one of his Servants to help _Tom_ to
undress. _Miles_ was strangely out o' Countenance at this, and told his
Friend, that he was of Age and Ability to pull off his own Cloaths; that
he never us'd to have any _Valets de Chambre_; (as they call'd 'em) and
for his Part, he was asham'd, and sorry that so worshipful a Gentleman
should take the Trouble to warm a Shirt for him. Besides (added he)
chave Heat enough (zure) to warm my Shirt. In short, he put on his
Shirt, half Shirt, his Cloaths and all Appurtenances, as modishly as the
best _Valet de Chambre_ in _Paris_ could. When _Miles_ was dress'd, his
Friend told him, That he believ'd he look'd then more like himself than
ever he had done since his Return to _England_. Ah! Noble Sir! said
_Miles_. _Vine Feathers make vine Birds._ But pray, Sir, Why must I wear
Mourning? Because there is a particular Friend of mine dead, for whose
Loss I can never sufficiently mourn my self; and therefore I desire that
all whom I love should mourn with me for him, return'd the Gentleman;
not but that there are three other Suits in Hand for you at this Time.
_Miles_ began then to suspect something of his Father's Death, which had
like to have made him betray his Grief at his Eyes; which his Friend
perceiving, took him by the Hand, and said, Here, my dear Friend! To the
Memory of my departed Friend! You are so very like what he was,
considering your Difference in Years, that I can't choose but love you
next to my Wife and my own Sister. Ah! Sir! (said he, and lapping his
Handkerchief to his Eyes) How can I deserve this of you? I have told you
(reply'd t'other.) But--Come! Take your Glass, and about with it! He did
so; and they were indifferently pleasant, the Subject of Discourse being
chang'd, 'till about a quarter after Five; when the Gentleman call'd to
pay, and took Coach with _Miles_ only, for the _Gun-Tavern_; where he
order'd a very noble Supper to be got ready with all Expedition; mean
while they entertain'd one another, in a Room as distant from the
Officers as the House would permit: _Miles_ relating to his new Friend
all his Misfortunes Abroad, but still disguising the true Occasion of
his leaving _England_. Something more than an Hour after, one of the
Drawers came to let 'em know, that Supper was just going to be serv'd
up. They went then directly to the Officers, whom they found all
together, with two or three Gentlemen more of their Acquaintance: They
all saluted the Gentleman who had invited 'em first, and then
complimented _Miles_, whom they mistook for another Friend of the
Gentleman's that gave 'em the Invitation; not in the least imagining
that it was _Tom Lostall_. When they were all sat, the Captain ask'd,
Where is our trusty and well-beloved Friend Mr. _Thomas Lostall_? Most
honoured Captain! (reply'd _Miles_) I am here, most humbly at your
Honour's Service, and all my other noble Officers. Ha! _Tom_! (cry'd the
Lieutenant) I thought indeed when thou first cam'st in, that I should
have seen that hardy Face of thine before. Face, Hands, Body, and Heart
and all, are at your, all your Honours Service, as long as I live. We
doubt it not, dear _Tom_! (return'd his Officers, unanimously.) Come,
noble Gentlemen! (interrupted _Miles's_ Friend) Supper is here, let us
fall to: I doubt not that after Supper I shall surprise you farther.
They then fell to eating heartily; and after the Table was clear'd they
drank merrily: At last, after the King's, Queen's, Duke's, and all the
Royal Family's, and the Officers Healths, his Friend begg'd that he
might begin a Health to _Tom Lostall_; which was carry'd about very
heartily; every one had a good Word for him, one commending his Bravery,
another, his ready Obedience; and a third, his Knowledge in material
Discipline, _&c._ 'till at length it grew late, their Stomachs grew
heavy, and their Heads light; when the Gentleman, _Miles's_ Friend,
calling for a Bill, he found it amounted to seven Pounds ten Shillings,
odd Pence, which he whisper'd _Tom Lostall_ to pay; who was in a Manner
Thunder-struck at so strange a Sound; but, recollecting himself, he
return'd, That if his Friend pleas'd, he would leave his Cloak, and any
Thing else, 'till the House were farther satisfy'd: T'other said, He was
sure _Miles_ had Money enough about him to discharge two such Bills: To
which _Miles_ reply'd, That if he had any Money about him, 'twas none of
his own, and that 'twas certainly conjur'd into his Pockets. No Matter
how it came there (said t'other;) but you have above twenty Pounds about
you of your own Money: Pray feel. _Miles_ then felt, and pull'd out as
much Silver as he could grasp, and laid it down on the Table. Hang this
white Pelf; (cry'd his Friend) pay it in Gold, like your self, Come,
apply your Hand to another Pocket: He did so, and brought out as many
Broad-Pieces as Hand could hold. Now (continu'd his Friend) give the
Waiter eight of 'em, and let him take the Overplus for his Attendance.
_Miles_ readily obey'd, and they were _Very Welcome, Gentlemen_.
Now, honoured Captain, (said his Friend) and you, Gentlemen, his other
worthy Officers, be pleas'd to receive your Soldier, as Sir _Miles
Hardyman_, Bar., Son to the late Sir _Henry Hardyman_ of
_Somersetshire_, my dear and honoured Brother-in-Law: Who is
certainly--the most unhappy Wretch crawling on Earth! (interrupted
_Miles_) O just Heaven! (persu'd he) How have I been rack'd in my Soul
ever since the Impious Vow I made, that I never would see my dearest
Father more! This is neither a Time nor Place to vent your Sorrows, my
dearest Brother! (said his Friend, tenderly embracing him.) I have
something now more material than your Expressions of Grief can be here,
since your honoured Father has been dead these five Years almost:--Which
is to let you know, that you are now Master of four thousand Pounds a
Year; and if you will forgive me two Years Revenue, I will refund the
rest, and put you into immediate and quiet Possession; which I promise
before all this worthy and honourable Company. To which _Miles_
return'd, That he did not deserve to inherit one Foot of his Father's
Lands, tho' they were entail'd on him, since he had been so strangely
undutiful; and that he rather thought his Friend ought to enjoy it all
in Right of his Sister, who never offended his Father in the whole
Course of her Life:--But, I beseech you, Sir, (continu'd he to his
Friend) how long is it since I have been so happy in so good and
generous a Brother-in-Law? Some Months before Sir _Henry_ our Father
dy'd, who gave us his latest Blessing, except that which his last Breath
bequeath'd and sigh'd after you. O undutiful and ungrateful Villain that
I am, to so kind, and so indulgent, and so merciful a Father: (cry'd
_Miles_) But Heaven, I fear, has farther Punishments in Store for so
profligate a Wretch and so disobedient a Son.--But your Name, Sir, if
you please? (persu'd he to his Brother) I am _Lewis Constance_, whom
once you unhappily mistook for your Rival. Unhappily, indeed: (return'd
_Miles_) I thought I had seen you before. Ay, Sir, (return'd
_Constance_) but you could never think to have seen me again, when you
wounded and left me for dead, within a Mile of my House. O! thou art
brave, (cry'd his Brother, embracing him affectionately) 'tis too much
Happiness, for such a Reprobate to find so true a Friend and so just a
Brother. This, this does in some Measure compensate for the Loss of so
dear a Father.--Take, take all, my Brother! (persu'd he, kissing
_Lewis's_ Cheek) Take all thou hast receiv'd of what is call'd mine, and
share my whole Estate with me: But pardon me, I beseech you my most
honour'd Officers, and all you Gentlemen here present, (continu'd he to
the whole Company, who sate silent and gazing at one another, on the
Occasion of so unusual an Adventure) pardon the Effects of Grief and Joy
in a distracted Creature! O, Sir _Miles_, (cry'd his Captain) we grieve
for your Misfortune, and rejoice at your Happiness in so noble a Friend
and so just a Brother. _Miles_ then went on, and gave the Company a full
but short Account of the Occasion of all his Troubles, and of all his
Accidents he met with both Abroad and at Home, to the first Day that
_Constance_ saw him digging in the _Tower_-Ditch. About one that
Morning, which preceded that Afternoon (persu'd he) whereon I saw my
dear Brother here, then a Stranger to me, I dream'd I saw my Father at a
Distance, and heard him calling to me to quit my honourable Employment
in his Majesty's Service: This (my Thought) he repeated seven or nine
Times, I know not which; but I was so disturb'd at it, that I began to
wake, and with my Eyes but half open was preparing to rise; when I
fancy'd I felt a cold Hand take me by the Hand, and force me on my hard
Bolster again, with these Words, take thy Rest, _Miles_! This I confess
did somewhat surprize me; but I concluded, 'twas the Effect of my
Melancholy, which, indeed, has held me ever since I last left _England_:
I therefore resolutely started up, and jump'd out of Bed, designing to
leave you, and sit up with my Fellow-Soldiers on the Guard; but just
then I heard the Watchman cry, _Past one a Clock and a Star-light
Morning_; when, considering that I was to be at Work in the Ditch by
four a Clock, I went to Bed again, and slumber'd, doz'd, and dream'd,
'til Four; ever when I turn'd me, still hearing, as I foolishly
imagin'd, my Father crying to me, _Miles_! Sleep, my _Miles_! Go not to
that nasty Place, nor do such servile Offices! tho' thou dost, I'll have
thee out this Day, nay, I will pull thee out: And then I foolishly
imagin'd, that the same cold Hand pull'd me out of the Ditch; and being
in less than a Minute's Time perfectly awake, I found my self on my Feet
in the Middle of the Room; I soon put on my Cloaths then, and went to my
Labour. Were you thus disturb'd when you were Abroad? (the Captain
ask'd) O worse, Sir, (answer'd _Miles_) especially on a Tuesday Night,
a little after One, being the Twelth of _November_, New Style, I was
wak'd by a Voice, which (methought) cry'd, _Miles_, _Miles_, _Miles!_
Get hence, go Home, go to _England_! I was startled at it, but regarded
it only as proceeding from my going to Sleep with a full Stomach, and so
endeavour'd to sleep again, which I did, till a second Time it rouz'd
me, with _Miles_ twice repeated,--hazard not thy Life here in a foreign
Service! Home! to _England_! to _England_! to _England_! This disturb'd
me much more than at first; but, after I had lay'n awake near half an
Hour, and heard nothing of it all that Time, I assur'd my self 'twas
nothing but a Dream, and so once more address'd my self to Sleep, which
I enjoy'd without Interruption for above two Hours; when I was the third
Time alarm'd, and that with a louder Voice, which cry'd, as twice
before, _Miles!_ _Miles!_ _Miles!_ _Miles!_ Go Home! Go to _England_!
Hazard not thy Soul here! At which I started up, and with a faultering
Speech, and Eyes half sear'd together, I cry'd, In the Name of Heaven,
who calls? Thy Father, _Miles_: Go Home! Go Home! Go Home! (it said.)
O then I knew, I mean, I thought I knew it was my Father's Voice; and
turning to the Bed-Side, from whence the Sound proceeded, I saw, these
Eyes then open, these very Eyes, at least, my Soul saw my Father, my own
dear Father, lifting up his joined Hands, as if he begg'd me to return
to _England_. I saw him beg it of me.--O Heaven! The Father begs it of
the Son! O obstinate, rebellious, cruel, unnatural, barbarous, inhuman
Son! Why did not I go Home then! Why did I not from that Moment begin my
Journey to _England_? But I hope, e'er long, I shall begin a better.
Here his o'ercharg'd Heart found some little Relief at his Eyes, and
they confess'd his Mother: But he soon resum'd the Man, and then
_Constance_ said, Did you ne'er dream of your Sister, Sir? Yes, often,
Brother, (return'd _Miles_) but then most particularly, before e'er I
heard the first Call of the Voice; when (my Thought) I saw her in Tears
by my Bed Side, kneeling with a Gentleman, whom I thought I had once
seen; but knew him not then, tho', now I recal my Dream, the Face was
exactly yours. 'Twas I, indeed, Sir, (return'd _Lewis_) who bore her
Company, with Tears, at your Father's Bed-Side; and at twelve a Clock at
Night your Father dy'd. But come, Sir, (persu'd he) 'tis now near twelve
a Clock, and there is Company waits for you at Home, at my House here in
Town; I humbly beg the Captain's Leave, that I may rob 'em of so dutiful
a Soldier for a Week or two. Sir, (return'd the Captain) Sir _Miles_
knows how to command himself, and may command us when he pleases.
Captain, Lieutenant, and Ensign, (reply'd Sir _Miles_) I am, and ever
will continue, during Life, your most dutiful Soldier, and your most
obedient and humble Servant. Thus they parted.
As soon as _Constance_ was got within Doors, his Lady and Sir _Miles's_
Sister, who both did expect him that Night, came running into the Hall
to welcome him? his Sister embrac'd and kiss'd him twenty and twenty
Times again, dropping Tears of Joy and Grief, whilst his Mistress stood
a little Distance, weeping sincerely for Joy to see her Love return'd:
But long he did not suffer her in that Posture; for, breaking from his
Sister's tender Embraces, with a seasonable Compliment he ran to his
Mistress, and kneeling, kiss'd her Hand, when she was going to kneel to
him; which he perceiving, started up and took her in his Arms, and
there, it may be presum'd, they kiss'd and talk'd prettily; 'till her
Brother perswaded 'em to retire into the Parlour, where he propos'd to
'em that they should marry on the very next morning; and accordingly
they were, after _Lewis_ had deliver'd all Sir _Henry's_ Estate to Sir
_Miles_, and given him Bills on his Banker for the Payment of ten
thousand Pounds, being the Moiety of Sir _Miles's_ Revenue for five
Years. Before they went to Church, Sir _Miles_, who then had on a rich
bridal Suit, borrow'd his Brother's best Coach, and both he and _Lewis_
went and fetch'd the Captain, Lieutenant, and Ensign, to be Witnesses of
their Marriage. The Captain gave the Bride, and afterwards they feasted
and laugh'd heartily, 'till Twelve at Night, when the Bride was put to
Bed; and there was not a Officer of 'em all, who would not have been
glad to have gone to Bed to her; but Sir _Miles_ better supply'd their
Places.
NOTES: The Unhappy Mistake.
p. 477 _the Jack_. The small bowl placed as a mark for the players to
aim at. cf. _Cymbeline_ II, i: 'Was there ever man had such luck! when I
kissed the jack upon an up-cast to be hit away!'
p. 477 _the Block_. cf. Florio (1598). '_Buttino_, a maister or mistres
of boules or coites whereat the plaiers cast or playe; some call it the
blocke.'
p. 495 _vor Mainly be our Country Word, zure_. Wright, _English Dialect
Dictionary_, gives apposite quotations for 'mainly' from Gloucester,
Wilts and Devon. He also has two quotations, Somerset and West Somerset
for 'main' used adverbially. But 'mainly' is also quite common in that
county.
p. 495 _the Gun_. A well-known house of call. 2 June, 1668, Pepys
'stopped and drank at the Gun'.
p. 496 _a Broad piece_. This very common name was 'applied after the
introduction of the guinea in 1663 to the "Unite" or 20 shilling pieces
(Jacobus and Carolus) of the preceeding reigns, which were much broader
and thinner than the new milled coinage.'
_Printed by A. H. BULLEN, at the Shakespeare Head Press,
Stratford-upon-Avon._
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