Chapter II: Part 2

After their little Repast, _Friendly_ call'd the _Would-be-Monarch_ aside, and told him, that he would have him go to the Play that Night, which was _The London-Cuckolds_; promising to meet him there in less than half an Hour after his Departure: telling him withal, that he would surprize him with a much better Entertainment than the Stage afforded. _Majesty_ took the Hint, imagining, and that rightly, that the Knight had some Intrigue in his Head, for the Promotion of the Commonwealth of Cuckoldom: In order therefore to his Advice, he took his leave about a quarter of an Hour after.

When he was gone, Sir _Philip_ thus bespoke his pretended Niece: Madam, I hope your Majesty will not refuse me the Honour of waiting on you to a Place where you will meet with better Entertainment than your Majesty can expect from the best Comedy in Christendom. _Val_, (continued he) you must go with us, to secure me against the Jealousy of my Wife. That, indeed (return'd his Lady) is very material; and you are mightily concern'd not to give me Occasion, I must own. You see I am now, (replied he:) But--come! on with Hoods and Scarf! (pursued he, to _Lucy_.) Then addressing himself again to his Lady; Madam, (said he) we'll wait on you. In less Time than I could have drank a Bottle to my Share, the Coach was got ready, and on they drove to the Play-House. By the way, said _Friendly_ to _Val._--Your Honour, noble Peer, must be set down at _Long's_; for only _Lucy_ and I must be seen to his Majesty of _Bantam_: And now, I doubt not, you understand what you must trust to.--To be robb'd of her Majesty's Company, I warrant (return'd the other) for these long three Hours. Why (cry'd _Lucy_) you don't mean, I hope, to leave me with his Majesty of _Bantam_? 'Tis for thy Good, Child! 'Tis for thy Good (return'd _Friendly_.) To the _Rose_ they got then; where _Goodland_ alighted, and expected Sir _Philip_; who led _Lucy_ into the King's Box, to his new Majesty; where, after the first Scene, he left them together. The over-joy'd fantastick Monarch would fain have said some fine obliging Things to the Knight, as he was going out; but _Friendly's_ Haste prevented 'em, who went directly to _Valentine_, took one Glass, call'd a Reckoning, mounted his Chariot, and away Home they came: where I believe he was welcome to his Lady; for I never heard any thing to the contrary.

In the mean Time, his Majesty had not the Patience to stay out half the Play, at which he was saluted by above twenty Gentlemen and Ladies by his new and mighty Title: but out he led Miss Majesty ere the third Act was half done; pretending, that it was so damn'd a bawdy Play, that he knew her Modesty had been already but too much offended at it; so into his Coach he got her. When they were seated, she told him she would go to no Place with him, but to the Lodgings her Mother had taken for her, when she first came to Town, and which still she kept. Your Mother, Madam, (cry'd he) why, is Sir _Philip's_ Sister living then? His Brother's Widow is, Sir, (she reply'd.) Is she there? (he ask'd.) No, Sir, (she return'd;) she is in the Country. Oh, then we will go thither to chuse. The Coach-man was then order'd to drive to _Jermain-Street_; where, when he came in to the Lodgings, he found 'em very rich and modishly furnish'd. He presently call'd one of his Slaves, and whisper'd him to get three or four pretty Dishes for Supper; and then getting a Pen, Ink and Paper, writ a Note to _C----d_ the Goldsmith with _Temple-Bar_, for five hundred guineas; which _Watchful_ brought him, in less than an Hour's time, when they were just in the Height of Supper; _Lucy_ having invited her Landlady, for the better Colour of the Matter. His _Bantamite_ Majesty took the Gold from his Slave, and threw it by him in the Window, that _Lucy_ might take Notice of it; (which you may assure yourself she did, and after Supper wink'd on the goodly Matron of the House to retire, which she immediately obey'd.) Then his Majesty began his Court very earnestly and hotly, throwing the naked Guineas into her Lap: which she seemed to refuse with much Disdain; but upon his repeated Promises, confirm'd by unheard of Oaths and Imprecations, that he would give her Sister three thousand Guineas to her Portion, she began by Degrees to mollify, and let the Gold lie quietly in her Lap: And the next Night, after he had drawn Notes on two or three of his Bankers, for the Payment of three thousand Guineas to Sir _Philip_, or Order, and received his own Bond, made for what he had lost at Play, from _Friendly_, she made no great Difficulty to admit his Majesty to her Bed. Where I think fit to leave 'em for the present; for (perhaps) they had some private Business.

The next Morning before the Titular King was (I won't say up, or stirring, but) out of Bed, young _Goodland_ and _Philibella_ were privately marry'd; the Bills being all accepted and paid in two Days Time. As soon as ever the fantastick Monarch could find in his Heart to divorce himself from the dear and charming Embraces of his beautiful Bedfellow, he came flying to Sir _Philip_, with all the Haste that Imagination big with Pleasure could inspire him with, to discharge it self to a suppos'd Friend. The Knight told him, that he was really much troubled to find that his Niece had yielded so soon and easily to him; however, he wish'd him Joy: To which the other return'd, that he could never want it, whilst he had the Command of so much Beauty, and that without the ungrateful Obligations of Matrimony, which certainly are the most nauseous, hateful, pernicious and destructive of Love imaginable. Think you so, Sir? (ask'd the Knight;) we shall hear what a Friend of mine will say on such an Occasion, to-morrow about this Time: but I beseech your Majesty to conceal your Sentiments of it to him, lest you make him as uneasy as you seem to be in that Circumstance. Be assur'd I will, (return'd the other:) But when shall I see the sweet, the dear, the blooming, the charming _Philibella_? She will be with us at Dinner. Where's her Majesty? (ask'd Sir _Philip_) Had you enquir'd before, she had been here; for, look, she comes! _Friendly_ seems to regard her with a Kind of Displeasure, and whisper'd Majesty, that he should express no particular Symptoms of Familiarity with _Lucy_ in his House, at any Time, especially when _Goodland_ was there, as then he was above with his Lady and _Philibella_, who came down presently after to Dinner.

About Four o'Clock, as his Majesty had intrigu'd with her, _Lucy_ took a Hackney-Coach, and went to her Lodgings; whither about an Hour after, he follow'd her, Next Morning, at nine, he came to _Friendly's_, who carry'd him up to see his new-married Friends--But (O Damnation to Thoughts!) what Torments did he feel, when he saw young _Goodland_ and _Philibella_ in bed together; the last of which return'd him humble and hearty Thanks for her Portion and Husband, as the first did for his Wife. He shook his Head at Sir _Philip_, and without speaking one Word, left 'em, and hurry'd to _Lucy_, to lament the ill Treatment he had met with from _Friendly_. They coo'd and bill'd as long as he was able; she (sweet Hypocrite) seeming to bemoan his Misfortunes; which he took so kindly, that when he left her, which was about three in the Afternoon, he caus'd a Scrivener to draw up an Instrument, wherein he settled a hundred Pounds a Year on _Lucy_ for her Life, and gave her a hundred Guineas more against her Lying-in: (For she told him, and indeed 'twas true, that she was with child, and knew her self to be so from a very good Reason--) And indeed she was so--by the _Friendly_ Knight. When he return'd to her, he threw the obliging Instrument into her Lap; (it seems he had a particular Kindness for that Place--) then call'd for Wine, and something to eat; for he had not drank a Pint to his Share all the Day, (tho' he had ply'd it at the Chocolate-House.--) The Landlady, who was invited to sup with 'em, bid 'em good-night, about eleven; when they went to bed, and partly slept till about six; when they were entertain'd by some Gentleman of their Acquaintance, who play'd and sung very finely, by way of _Epithalamium_, these Words and more:

_Joy to great +Bantam!+
Live long, love and wanton!
And thy Royal Consort!
For both are of one Sort, +&c.+_

The rest I have forgot. He took some Offence at the Words; but more at the Visit that Sir _Philip_, and _Goodland_, made him, about an Hour after, who found him in Bed with his Royal Consort; and after having wish'd 'em Joy, and thrown their Majesties own Shoes and Stockings at their Head, retir'd. This gave Monarch in Fancy so great a Caution that he took his Royal Consort into the Country, (but above forty Miles off the Place where his own Lady was) where, in less than eight Months, she was deliver'd of a Princely Babe, who was Christen'd by the Heathenish Name of _Hayoumorecake Bantam_, while her Majesty lay in like a pretty Queen.

NOTES: The King of Bantam.

p. 17 _last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683_. The new plays acted at the Theatre Royal in 1682 were: Southerne's _The Loyal Brother; or, The Persian Prince_; Tate's _Ingratitude of a Commonwealth; or, The Fall of Caius Marius Coriolanus_; Settle's _The Heir of Morocco, with the Death of Gayland_; Banks' _The Unhappy Favourite; or, the Earl of Essex_; D'Urfey's _The Injur'd Princess; or, The Fatal Wager_. There were also an unusual number of revivals of the older plays at this house. At Dorset Garden the following were produced: Otway's _Venice Preserved; or, A Plot Discovered_; Mrs. Behn's _The City Heiress; or, Sir Timothy Treatall_; D'Urfey's _The Royalist_; Mrs. Behn's _The False Count; or, A New Way to Play an Old Game_; Banks' _Virtue Betray'd; or, Anna Bullen_; Mrs. Behn's _The Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause_; Ravenscroft's _The London Cuckolds_; and _Romulus and Hersilia; or, The Sabine War_, an anonymous tragedy. There were also notable revivals of Randolph's _The Jealous Lovers_, and Fletcher's _The Maid in the Mill_. The two Companies amalgamated in the autumn, opening at the Theatre Royal, 16 November, for which occasion a special Prologue and Epilogue were written by Dryden. 4 December, Dryden and Lee's famous tragedy, _The Duke of Guise_, had a triumphant first night. It will be remembered that Mrs. Behn is writing of incidents which took place on 6 January, 1683, Twelfth Night, so 'the last new plays' must refer to the productions of 1682. Of course, fresh songs, and probably musical entertainments, would be inserted at the different revivals of the older plays which were so frequent during that year.

p. 20 _Statira, . . . Roxana._ In allusion to the two rival princesses for Alexander's love as they appear in Nat Lee's famous tragedy, _The Rival Queens; or, Alexander the Great_, produced at Drury Lane, 1677. It held the stage over a century and a half, longest of his plays, and is indeed an excellent piece. Originally, Hart played Alexander; Mrs. Marshall, the glowing Roxana; and Mrs. Boutell, Statira. Genest chronicles a performance at Drury Lane, 23 June, 1823, with Kean as Alexander; Mrs. W. West, Statira; Mrs. Glover, Roxana.

p. 24 _forty the Lurch_. 'Lurch' is a very common old term (now rare) 'used in various games to denote a certain concluding state of the game in which one player is enormously ahead of the other; often a "maiden set" or love-game'--_N.E.D._ cf. Urquhart's _Rabelais_ (1653), II, xii: 'By two of my table-men in the corner point I have gained the lurch.' Gouldman's _Latin Dictionary_ (1674), gives: 'A lurch; _duplex palma, facilis victoria_.'

p. 26 _to Locket's, where they din'd_. This fashionable Ordinary stood on the site of Drummond's Bank, Charing Cross. It was named from Adam Locket, the landlord, who died in 1688. In 1702, however, we find an Edward Locket, probably a son, as proprietor. The reputation of the house was on the wane during the latter years of Anne, and in the reign of George I its vogue entirely ceased. There are very frequent references. In _The Country Wife_ (1675), Horner tells Pinchwife: 'Thou art as shy of my kindness as a Lombard-street alderman of a courtier's civility at Locket's' (IV, iii). In Shadwell's _The Scowerers_ (1691), old Tope, replying to a health, cries: 'I'll answer you in a couple of Brimmers of Claret at Locket's at Dinner' (I, i). In Vanbrugh's _The Relapse_ (1696), Lord Foppington, when asked if he dines at home, surmises: ''tis passible I may dine with some of aur House at Lacket's,' which shows that it was then the very rendezvous of fashion and quality.

p. 27 _A King and no King._ Langbaine testifies to the popularity of Beaumont and Fletcher's play both before and after the Restoration. Pepys saw it 14 March, 1661, and again, 26 September the same year. The 1676 quarto 'as it is now acted at the Theatre Royal by his Majestie's Servants' gives a full cast with Hart as Arbaces; Kynaston, Tigranes; Mohun, Mardonius; Lacy, Bessus; Mrs. Betty Cox, Panthea; Mrs. Marshall, Spaconia. In the earlier production Nell Gwynne had acted Panthea. The two Companies amalgamated in 1682, opening 16 November. Hart 'never Acted more' after this date. Mrs. Marshall had retired in 1677; and in 1683 Betterton was playing Arbaces with quite a new allotment of the other roles.

p. 27 _The Rose._ There are repeated references to this celebrated tavern which stood in Russell Street, Covent Garden. _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.

p. 29 _The London-Cuckolds._ Ravenscroft's rollicking comedy, which had been produced with great success at the Duke's House in 1682 (4to, 1682), long kept the boards with undiminished favour, being very frequently given each season. Genest has the following true and pertinent remark: 'If it be the province of Comedy not to retail morality to a yawning pit but to make the audience laugh and to keep them in good humour this play must be allowed to be one of the best Comedies in the English language.' 29 October (the old Lord Mayor's Day), 1751, Garrick substituted _Eastward Hoe_ at Drury Lane for the annual performance of _The London Cuckolds_, a change not approved by the audience, who promptly damned their new fare. Ravenscroft's comedy was given that evening at Covent Garden, and on 9 November, the following year. It was also performed there in 1753. 9 November, 1754, George II ordered _The Provoked Husband_. It has often been stated (e.g. by Professor A. W. Ward--'Ravenscroft'--_Dictionary of National Biography_) that this royal command gave _The London Cuckolds_ its final _conge_, but such was neither the intent nor the case. The play is billed at Covent Garden, 10 November, 1755; in 1757; and 9 November, 1758. Shuter excelled as Dashwell. A two act version was played at Covent Garden, 10 April, 1782, and repeated on the 12th. This was for the benefit of Quick, who acted Doodle.

p. 30 _Your Honour . . . must be set down at Long's._ Long's was a famous Ordinary in the Haymarket. It was here that in 1678 Lord Pembroke killed Mr. Coney with his fist. He was tried by his Peers and acquitted. There was at the same period a second tavern in Covent Garden kept by Ben Long, Long's brother. In Dryden's _Mr. Limberham_ (1678), Brainsick cries: 'I have won a wager to be spent luxuriously at Long's.' In Etheredge's _The Man of Mode_ (1676), the following conversation occurs:--

_Bellair._ Where do you dine?
_Dorimant._ At Long's or Locket's.
_Medley._ At Long's let it be.

p. 30 _the King's Box_. The seats in the boxes of the Restoration Theatre were let out severally to separate persons, and although the King had, of course, his own private box when he saw a play, yet when he was not present even the royal box was apportioned to individuals as the rest. There are many allusions to this which prove, moreover, that the front row of the King's box was the most conspicuous and highly coveted position in the house. In Etheredge's _The Man of Mode_ (1676), Dorimant, hearing of a young gentlewoman lately come to town and being taken with his own handsome face, wagers that she must be 'some awkward, ill-fashioned, country toad, who, not having above four dozen of black hairs on her head, has adorned her baldness with a large white fruz, that she may look sparkishly in the forefront of the King's box at an old play.' In Tom Brown's _Letters from the Dead to the Living_[1] we have one from Julian, 'late Secretary to the Muses,' to Will. Pierre of Lincoln's Inn Fields Playhouse, wherein, recalling how in his lampoons whilst he lived characters about town were shown in no very enviable light, he particularizes that 'the antiquated Coquet was told of her age and ugliness, tho' her vanity plac'd her in the first row in the King's box at the playhouse.'

p. 31 _Jermain-Street._ Jermyn Street runs parallel with Piccadilly from the Haymarket to St. James. It was built _circa_ 1667, and derives its name from Henry Jermyn, Earl of St. Albans. Shadwell spells it Germin Street, and it was in a house here that old Snarl was wont to receive amorous castigation at the hands of Mrs. Figgup.--_The Virtuoso_ (1676), III, ii. It was a fashionable quarter. From 1675 to 1681 the Duke of Marlborough, then Colonel Churchill, lived here. La Belle Stuart, Duchess of Richmond, had a house near Eagle Passage, 1681-3, and was succeeded therein by the Countess of Northumberland. Next door dwelt Henry Saville, Rochester's friend, 1681-3. Three doors from the Duchess again was living in 1683 Simon Verelest, the painter. In 1684 Sir William Soames followed him. In after years also there have been a large number of famous residents connected with this favourite street.

p. 34 _after having . . . thrown their Majesties own Shoes and Stockings_. 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.

[Footnote 1: This actual letter was written by Boyer, together
with the reply which is dated 5 November, 1701. Julian was a
well-known journalistic scribbler and ribald ballader of the time.
William Peer [Pierre], a young actor of little account, is only
cast for such walk-on roles as Jasper, a valet, in Shadwell's _The
Scowerers_ (1691); the Parson in D'Urfey's _Love for Money_
(1696).]

Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The King of Bantam_

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.